"So," started Max before pausing briefly to sip his lemonade, "Where's your dad at?"

Sturm didn't have an answer. His father had left in a hurry, apparently called at the last minute to intervene in a foreign conflict. Though that was the extent of what Leopold had shared with his son, certain details could be inferred. Firstly, it was unlikely that any party would call on the Hurricane's assistance unless a dire threat was involved. Second, the cryptic nature of the assignment hinted that, whatever the mission was, it had to be sensitive.

"Well..." Sturm replied slowly and with uncertainty, "I don't really know. He's on a special assignment... somewhere else."

Eyes lit up, Max exclaimed, "Special assignment, huh?! Like... taking out a bad guy?!"

Sturm shrugged. "Maybe. I really have no idea."

Suddenly, a flock of seagulls rushed past the seating area and lifted off into the sky and across the river, leaving the odd feather dancing in the breeze. Max looked up and watched as they continued on and out of sight behind the rooftops.

"Man..." said Max, "Wouldn't it be nice to just go wherever you want and have nobody give a damn? I mean, those guys are so far from shore and nobody looks at them twice, right?"

Eyebrow raised, Sturm crossed his arms. "I see what you're saying but... nobody really likes seagulls, Max."

Max chuckled. "That's true, I guess. But did you ever stop to wonder why people don't like seagulls?"

Sturm cocked his head, unsure of where Max was going with this.

"Really, think about it! What did they do to get such a bad reputation?" Max continued.

"I guess... they steal people's food?" Sturm answered.

Wagging his finger, Max retorted, "Yeah, yeah... but how do people know that?"

Sturm blinked in confusion. The answer seemed obvious enough. "I'd have to assume a seagull probably stole their food once."

"Uh huh..." replied Max, "So one seagull steals their food and now they assume they're all thieves, right?"

It was clear to Sturm that, whatever his newfound ally was trying to say, he believed it to be quite profound. Still, the irony of Max, who had been caught thieving, using such an example wasn't lost on him. Perhaps the core notion was still of some value, despite this.

"I get what you're saying."

With a wide grin, Max leaned over the round countertop and shook Sturm's shoulder. "See, I knew you weren't that bad! And hey, even if most people don't really like seagulls, it doesn't mean they hate them, right?"

Sturm paused in thought. That last question almost sounded like a plea. Was Max looking to be reassured? Indeed, most people didn't go out of their way to hate the seagulls. However, if just a rare few hated them enough, the indifference of the majority could be just as dangerous for the birds. Sturm considered explaining this but, out of consideration for Max's high spirits, opted against it.

"I guess not..." he quietly answered.

The slightest hint of unease in Max's expression dissipated with Sturm's answer. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and tossed the remaining piece of his pretzel into his open mouth.

"You know, Sturm..." Max started through a mouthful, "I like ya buddy, I really do... but you've gotta learn to lighten up!"

"What do you mean?" Sturm replied as he raised an eyebrow once more, unsure if he should take offense.

With a loud gulp, Max swallowed his last bite of food and gave a wide grin. "Come on, you're so uptight! Everything is all business, all the time. Enjoy the moment, buddy!"

They were enrolled in a military academy for super soldiers, not summer camp. As such, Sturm was always careful to present himself in a way that represented an Iron Knight candidate properly. Max, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a care in the world. While Sturm's mind was caught between curiosity about his father's mission and the ever-present threat of a vicious serial killer, Max somehow found the time to spare a thought for seagulls.

The absurdity of such contrast brought the faintest smile across the boy's lips.

"Aha!" exclaimed Max, "There it is! The great Hurricane's son has a soul, after all!"

Shaking his head, Sturm allowed his smile to grow. "You're something else." he sighed, "We're a few hundred meters away from a crime scene and you're acting like it's a party."

"Wow, way to kill the mood..." said Max, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"I'm serious," added Sturm, "You're not nervous at all?"

Max patted the table with an open palm. "Less nervous, more anxious to kill the guy."

Glancing down at the cold, half-eaten sausage, Sturm's just shifted uneasily. "Do you think it's that fire-breather you came across?"

"Not sure," answered Max, "Could be. Guess we won't know until he's out of the picture. If we take that Communist loser down and the killing stops, then it was him, right?"

"Maybe," said Sturm.

"But anyway," Max continued confidently, "I'm not worried! You and me against those guys? No problem. I mean, I could have beaten all their asses on my own! Adding the Hurricane's kid? Total overkill! Magnolia and Geraldo can hang back and relax."

"Gustavo," Sturm quickly corrected his ally, "And you'd have better luck flying off with those seagulls than convincing Magnolia to keep out of a fight."

Max wrapped his forearm around his opposite shoulder and stretched with an audible crack. "Yeah, so what's her deal, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sturm.

"You know..." Max pressed on, "Like, why's she so... mean?"

Shaking his head slightly, Sturm answered "I'm not sure. All I know is that she's a noble and thinks a bit too highly of herself. She plays the violin and spends an awful lot of time writing in her diary."

Max nodded slowly. "I see... so what's her power? It's got to do with the violin, right?"

"Not so loud!" snapped Sturm, "We're never supposed to talk about things like that in public."

Rolling his eyes, Max leaned back in his chair. "Oh, come on. Everybody finds out what Iron Knights' powers are, eventually! There isn't a soul on Earth who doesn't know about your dad's Destroyer Cyclone!"

He had a point. The most well-known exceptionals had equally well-known abilities. Magnolia had brought the same protest against Scharf when the latter originally passed the mandate onto the team. Regardless, the captain was clear. There was to be no careless talk of any candidate's ability not explicitly known to the general public.

"That's true..." said Sturm, "but we don't want to give anyone the jump on us. Especially considering that we're sitting in a hot zone right now. That exceptional you took on had allies. That means you can never be too sure who's listening."

Letting out a defeated grown, Max slumped in his chair. "Aw, whatever..."

"Just ask her yourself when we get back," added Sturm.

Max scoffed. "She's scary, man! No way! My back is still sore from her stomping me yesterday."

"You'll get used to her," Sturm chuckled through a slight grin.

After getting up and clearing his plate into the nearby garbage can, Sturm walked over to the railing that overlooked the Spree. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and let the orange-tinged sunset glow faintly through his eyelids.

"Damn..." said Max, walking up beside him, "We came out for lunch and it's already time for supper."

Sturm glanced over to Max out of the corner of one open eye. "If you're hungry again, you should order something to take back."

"Nah... that's okay," Max sighed, gazing off at the orange sky.

For a moment, Sturm found himself wondering what the sky looked like wherever his father was. Perhaps he could see the same sunset. Maybe a sunrise of comparable beauty. Or, different still, could his father be looking up at a shimmering starry night?

"I wonder if she saw this before she died."

Max's words wrenched Sturm firmly back to reality. A harsh wind came rushing forth and a faint air of dread permeated the otherwise beautiful scene.

"What did you say?" asked Sturm.

Max stood, leaning over the railing with an uncharacteristically blank expression. "The captain said that Ida girl was a psychic... that she could see the future. Do you think she saw this sunset?"

Pausing, Sturm pondered the notion. Beyond the initial question of how someone with future sight could have been taken by surprise and killed, Sturm hadn't given much thought to the logistics of such an ability. Could it be that Ida Weber was treated to the same spectacular view in her final moments? Or, perhaps more likely, was she unable to see past the events of her own demise? Strangely, Sturm found himself able to draw some slight comfort from the former possibility, however improbable it might have been.

"Hey, Sturm..." Max spoke up once more.

The swordsman turned his head to face his teammate and noticed Max's clenched, trembling fists. "What is it?"

Through a stiff jaw, Max growled, "Just in case she was able to see us right now... I want her to know. We're going to kill that bastard, and no one else is going to die."

Somewhat taken back by Max's sudden show of resolve, Sturm's mouth fell slightly agape. Collecting himself, he nodded approvingly before returning his gaze to the sunset. With the realization that Ida was likely meant as the fourth member of their team flowing back to him, Sturm followed Max's example.

"That's right... Your team, the Third Hunter Team, will make things right."