As a child, Caelan loved to hear Gramps tell stories of his past. He also had a quote for every situation, nuggets of wisdom he had accumulated over the decades.

One of his

“Careful with what you tell people. Wrong words at the wrong ears is worse than fixing the broken engine of a moving car.”

“Yes, sir!”

Caelan would only grasp the true meaning of those words much later in life to his bitter regret.

-----

The world spun in dizzying circles, vision flickering. Fire pulsed from the hole in his stomach, each beat spreading deeper. With a shallow breath, Caelan kept repeating the events of the night in his mind.

Should have listened to Leopold…

Poison, in all likeness. Didn't matter which type, he could feel his body failing. He felt like laughing if he had the energy to do so.

Thinking back on his life, Caelan felt a dullness in his chest. Only the failures came to mind, in quick succession. My brothers and sisters, butchered. Gramps in the hospital for the last time. And Sam, a weak smile as I held her hand before the end.

She looked scared, but did her best not to show. No tears came out of his eyes that day, had to be strong for her.

He turned his head and squinted for one final look at the knife. It had no handle—two leaf blades meant for throwing, not stabbing. Made for throwing, rather than stabbing. He held onto it, its edge slicing his palm. It helped spread the poison further, but at that point, it wouldn't matter.

I survive over a hundred anomaly encounters, but a knife finishes the job. What a way for a “super-soldier” to die…

Eyes closed, he let darkness embrace him. A distant voice echoed as if from a distant shore. Whoever it belonged to, he couldn’t care less.

I’ll see you soon, Sam… Gramps…

-----

Hours earlier, the young man made his way back to Nashoba’s home.

“No luck again?” His friend held a mug of coffee as Caelan opened the door, a heavy bag dropped on the ground.

Body heavy by sleepiness, Caelan collapsed on a chair.  “Other than a couple of weird rodents, no one went inside the junkyard.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. “You heard of any stranger asking about the junkyard?”

Nashoba chuckled, his mug froze on the way to his mouth. “I think you spread those rumors a bit too well. Lots of folks turn up to see who the 'mysterious topsider" in the flesh. He took a sip from the scorching drink. "You appearing and acting like a rich dick only poured Ignis in the fire.”

Caelan smirked, thinking of how Leopold acted in the game. Smug. Untouchable. A perfect role to play. “Had a good teacher.”

The zoakri kept his intense stare at him for a few moments. “So, I still…”

Without opening his eyes, Caelan interrupted him. “No.”

He looked as though he had eaten a lemon. "Come on, you said this guy is mighty dangerous. You seriously gonna be stubborn on this? After all the help I gave?”

“That’s different.” One long breath later, Caelan continued. “I don’t want you nowhere near him because it’s dangerous.”

Arms crossed in an attempt to look more serious from Nashoba. "I can take care of myself."

“Not against him.” Images of the plane’s crew flashed before Caelan’s eyes. “Doc and Aunt Ye would kill me if anything happened to you. Not to mention, you swore you wouldn’t touch the subject anymore. Nor try and come help me, remember?”

"My exact words were 'I won't go with you fight this mysterious figure', aye." A finger tapped at his forearm. "Still think it's a bad idea to be there alone."

“Noted,” Caelan said while yawning. “Give me six hours to recharge. No use standing guard half-dead.”

-----

Feeling restored, Caelan stretched as he entered the kitchen. A note waited at the table, explaining that Nashoba had gone to help neighbors.

Fridge empty. Stomach growling. The weight of the coin in his pocket carried him toward the market, drawn by remembered smells. And today is market day too.

He spent the whole time figuring out what he would get. Nothing too heavy, in case he needed to fight later, but had to be filling. Could also go to Doc’s home for a taste of Aunt Ye’s cooking. But after weeks of thinking of mouth-watering scents, he had to try it.

I mean, could be my last chance, for all I know.

Once again, colorful stalls littered the streets as far as the eye could see. All manner of produce and utensils on display, to supply any need you might have. Caelan chuckled when he noticed some stalls looked like carbon copies of those he saw at the Shadow Market. A man’s got to eat, I suppose.

One vendor caught his eye, waving his arms around with wild energy. Promising the tastiest skewers they’d ever have. Dozens of people already in line convinced Caelan to check it out.

While the man promoted, a younger girl, still in her teens, prepared the meat. To Caelan, it felt as if the fragrance of paprika, lemon, and cheese jabbed him in the nose. Minced meat got shaped into cylinders with a mix of spices. Before being put into charcoal to roast. Ten seconds of holding back drool were enough for him to join the others in the line.

From the corner of vision, he noticed a hooded figure approached, straight at him. Wrong posture. Too confident for a street merchant. Heart racing, Caelan gripped the hatchet beneath his shirt, ready to strike.

“Well, mission accomplished.” A quick motion pulled back the hood. Caelan’s heart stopped.

Relief hit him like a wave. The hand on his weapon loosened. “Lucien! What in the…”

In the same way as Caelan, Lucien disguised himself as a zoakri. Full package, with fake scales and a chameleon tail swinging behind him. It would have impressed Nashoba on how well it all fit together.

The executor placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a long story, but the boss asked us to look into the missing pet. Know anything about it?”

He got a nod in return. “Might know a thing or two, yes.”

Lucien sighed and slumped, tension leaving his frame. “That’s great. Was getting tired of looking. How about we go see the boss and you can tell her about it?”

Caelan used some moments to think about it. "Sorry, but I already have something planned tonight."

“Oh?”

“Remember that annoying pest that keeps showing up?” Jaw tightened, Lucien nodded. “Well, I laid a trap for it and have been waiting for it to spring.”

“I see.” Hand on his chin, the young spy thought on it for a bit. “Would you like some help with dealing with that? I can call a few of my friends, make sure we get the bastard.”

Warmth spread across Caelan’s chest. “That would be great! Is Sarah with you?”

A subtle balance of the head came from him. “No, she’s busy somewhere else. But with four of us and you, it should be more than enough.”

“Agreed. Glad to know we can finally exterminate that pest.”

A smirk spread on the executor’s face. It didn’t spread to his eyes, which remained calculating. “Oh, couldn’t agree more.”

-----

Once Caelan finished checking his gear, he put it all in his bag. Prep work is done. If he shows up tonight, I get my answers or end him.

At the kitchen table, Rosa hummed—one hand sketching, the other fiddling with the glowing crystal pendant Nashoba had gifted her. “You sure you’ll be fine until Nashoba comes back?”

She gave him a thumbs up and a determined face. Nashoba had brought her from the clinic so Doc and Aunt Ye could have “alone time”. But the second he came back an old couple appeared asking for help. “Won’t be gone more than an hour, tops. Keep watching the daughter, would you darling?”

Looking at the watch under his wrist, Caelan saw Lucien and his team would arrive soon. When they separated earlier, he gave him the location of the house, where they would meet to stand watch at the junkyard. The executor even said they would help spread the rumors.

A knock on the door alerted him of their arrival. "Alright, be a good girl, and don't open the door to strangers. If anything happens, go find Nashoba, deal?"

One more thumbs-up from Rosa.

The door opened, he saw Lucien standing at the entrance, semblance shrouded by his hood. "You ready to solve our pest problem?"

“More than you think.”

A twinge of doubt flickered through Caelan’s gut—but not fast enough.

With the agility of a cat, the executor pulled a rod from his sleeve. It touched Caelan’s chest and it felt as if every muscle in his body contracted at once. Pain exploded through him. His muscles seized, and the floor slammed into him like a sledgehammer. Every instinct screamed to move—but his body refused.

“Lucien?” Caelan croaked, pain lacing every syllable. “Why—”

The executor crouched beside him, voice soft. “Orders are orders.”

Darkness swallowed him before he could scream. He tried to scream for Rosa to run, only for his blood to freeze when he heard sounds of struggle inside. Oh no… He tried to draw his weapon. Mind screamed the order to the body. His hands didn’t listen.

Then, everything went dark.