Sometimes, when the things happen in the world that might cause us harm, we can feel it, deep in our bones. When a coming storm makes your head begin to pound, or a sudden heart attack sends you feelings of dread. When Taloch woke that morning to the quiet whirs of Dren’s CPAP and the heavy pattering of rain he could feel something. Something deep in his chest ached. Like a wounded animal holed up in its den. Dren rose from his bed, careful not to wake his husband. Icy dread spread up his spine as he tied his robe and began to walk down the hall. Thunder crashed outside as he paused by Bit’s door. Somehow, without even opening the door, he knew. He knew what he’d find inside. His hand shakily turned the doorknob, and Taloch swore quietly. 

The bed was empty, his crystals were gone. Taloch took a steadying breath as he walked to the closet. The only thing missing was Bit’s backpack. Taloch swore again before rushing out of the room. His hooves clacked loudly as he ran to his office to review last night’s footage. Half way through logging in, Dren stumbled into the room still in his boxers. 

“W’as wrong?” He mumbled tiredly. Taloch barely managed to get the words out before Dren was wide awake, cursing up a storm in orcish, and calling the crew. Taloch turned his attention to the cameras, watching intently. The security system showed Bit leaving his room long after they’d assumed he’d gone to sleep. He’d crept into their room, stayed for a moment, and left it crying. Then, the hybrid stopped by the kitchen to stock up on some of the granola bars he’d asked for. Taloch followed Bit’s progress down the elevator and out into the streets. As Taloch began to jack in and begin his city wide surveillance scans, a crash of thunder shook the building.

“Fuck!” Taloch roared as the power flickered out. He resisted the overwhelming urge to throw his computer in frustration. He turned to look outside, only to be met with a wall of water. Only then did he realize the severity of the storm. This was no mere Night City shower. This was a hurricane, plain and simple. He heard a faint crash and muffled curse as Dren navigated the dark and reentered the study. 

“Whole city’s locked down,” he spat, “Even medivac is staying out of the air.” Talcoh took several deep breaths to calm himself as Dren searched around the room. “Seen my jacket anywhere?” he asked. 

“Bit was wearing it when he left.” Taloch responded tensely. Dren sighed and nodded.

“Least he’s wearing something in this weather. Did he take any food? Money?” Dren asked as he pulled on a ratty poncho. Taloch paused as he connected to his and Dren’s accounts before shaking his head. 

“Stubbourn little Bit, took some energy bars but no creds.” Taloch replied. He rose to stand, grabbing a flashlight as he did to illuminate the hall. Even with the wide windows throughout the loft, the rain seemed to block out any possible light from the sun. Taloch thanked his foresight to choose a home in a reinforced building. Dren followed closely after him. The pair dressed quickly, grabbing supplies for anything they might meet on the streets. “Who’s looking?” Taloch asked as he checked his ammo casings. 

“Skips, Cram, and Wriggle’re hittin’ the streets. Dads are printing flyers, and Nyx is trying to get into CCTV, but a lot of the grid is down right now.” Dren relayed as he packed several other ponchos into a bag. “Rest of the crew are holed up in the shelter and the coup kitchen. Lotta folks had nowhere to go when this thing hit.” Taloch nodded, making a mental note to give the crew a round of raises. They turned to one another, and instantly Taloch felt the weight of what was happening. It seemed Dren felt it too as they collapsed into each other. Holding on to one another for dear life. 

Over the next few weeks, they did nothing but look. After a few days the hurricane finally died down, and more of their crew were able to take to the streets. When Nyx, the crew’s netrunner, managed to pull up a black market bounty for Bit, posted by the Tyger Claws. To say that the Crew began to panic was an understatement. Though very few of Taloch and Dren’s gang had come into contact with Bit, all of them had been subjected to the endless stories. Both Taloch and Dren had a habit of talking about their house guest to anyone who would listen. Cram and Skips, Dren’s brothers, knew for a fact that they'd have another brother in law sooner than later. They and Skips’ boyfriend Wriggle spent every day patrolling the streets of the city. 

Nip and Tuck made it a point to hand out fliers made by Dren’s fathers to every single person who stepped foot in the clinic. The one person who threw one away after leaving was swiftly found by Nip, and instilled with the fear of a magic using clinic owner. It had been nearly a month when they finally landed on a lead. Nyx reported a leak in their contacts. Taloch really couldn’t bring himself to be surprised as he and Dren marched into Dr. Ruzvine’s office. Their faces were grim as Dren slammed his fist into the Dr’s computer, sending it flying into the wall. Ruzvine yelled in alarm, scrambling to stand behind his chair. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Ruzvine demanded, clearly rattled. Taloch said nothing as he moved to sit in one of the chairs facing the good Dr’s desk. The only sounds in the room were the quiet whir of Taloch’s mechanical horns and the enraged breathing of the orc standing beside him. Taloch brushed nonexistent dust from his shoulder as he levelled Ruzvine with a blank expression. 

“Good morning Dr. Ruzvine,” He said, his deep voice cutting into the silence like the sudden crack of a glacier. “I believe we have some business to attend to.” Before the doctor could move, Taloch was behind him, his hand coming down on Ruzvine’s shoulder. An executioner's axe would have given him more comfort in that moment. 

“I don’t know what you maniacs are talking about, get out!” Dr. Ruzvine feebly argued. His voice died with a sharp shriek. Talcoh slammed the man’s front into his desk. Blood poured from his nose from the impact leaving a red puddle on the wood. The minotaur took a handful of the doctor’s hair and forced him to look at Dren. Dren, calm as the surface of a lake, casually lifted a tablet and began to read.

“To whom it may concern, I believe I have found something you’ll be interested in. A hybrid with some unique abilities. It’s normally guarded but I saw it swiping some concessions yesterday during the storm. Call me to discuss it further. Yours, Dr. Ruzvine.” Dren’s piercing gaze traveled to the doctor’s sniveling face. “So, you think hybrids are property to bargain with?” The Orc asked with a sickening smile. Ruzvine attempted to plead and explain through ragged sobs, but neither man was having it. 

Dren casually lifted a glass ornament from the desk, and with a flex of his hand the solid ball shattered as if made of sand. He opened his palm to reveal no damage from the ragged shards that fell from it. Taloch snarled at the doctor’s back with a ferocity that Dren had only heard a few times before. Reserved for the rare traffickers and molesters that were unwise enough to set up base in their territory. 

“Now, let’s not bog this conversation down with lies.” Dren said pleasantly. “For example, we were sent this by some concerned parties, but unfortunately a netrunner on your side corrupted part of the files.” Dren pointed to the top of the message, where the text was destroyed by artifacting. “But our own net runners looked into you, and found a substantial payment was deposited into your account by an anonymous party a few days ago.” Dren sat the tablet aside, resting his head on his arms. His face inches from Ruzvine’s, the doctor could see the barely contained rage behind the orc’s eyes. The vibrant shades of brown and gold blazed like a fire. “So, we know you sold him out.” Dren said. “So, what you’re going to do is tell us who, and where you last saw him.”

“If I don’t?” Ruzvine choked out, struggling weakly against Taloch’s bulk. The minotaur leaned further over him, pressing his weight into the doctor. His firm grip on Ruzvine’s hair tightened, slowly and achingly pulling strands from the doctor’s scalp. His head forced back and his ribs creaking under the pressure, Ruzvine tried to scream but found the breath being squeezed out of him. Coming out as something closer to a strangled gagging sound. 

“I stop being gentle.” Taloch snarled. From there, the good doctor was very forthcoming with information. Rambling frantically on every place he’d spotted Bit, and information on the pair of Tyger Claws he’d sold the information to. He’d also been kind enough to grant them access to various emails and deals he’d made in the past with the same small group of Tygers. Years of selling out hybrids under the table and using skilled net runners to keep his name obscured. Nearly two hours after they’d arrived, Taloch and Dren were leaving the building with piles of data. Quick calls to their teams had the entire clean up crew scouring the places that Bit had been spotted. As well as Tyger Claw territory after brief explanations to their leaders. 

With full permission to take action against the perpetrators, though Taloch suspected this was just a bid to shift blame from themselves, the Clean Up Crew mobilized. Taloch busied himself with compiling data to anonymously send to the NCPD on the good doctor’s dealings. Meanwhile, Dren oversaw the search parties. Soon enough, Bit’s nest was discovered. Empty but seemingly visited recently. Then the alert came in. Bit had been found, but he was not alone.