They didn't even see me coming.

I crept around the marble pillar, arms splayed so they would wrap around the cool surface. The San Francisco fog was so dense that the security guards, clad in their crisp, navy attire, try as they might to act stoic, couldn't see a damn thing in the mist. 

I flexed my fingerless gloves. My black nails were flawless. Had to keep them unchipped for a break-in, investigation, and possibly a good old-fashioned brawl. 

The tip was vague. The CEO of a French Private Military Corp went missing, most likely kidnapped, around this pier, and so had other high-status, wealthy individuals. The Pacific Gala, some fancy gathering for wealthy elites, run by the city management to score brownie points from foreign investors, was tonight, and my broke ass definitely couldn't afford tickets. I had to bust my way in.

But Aurum Levi, Ace Detective, was on the case. That CEO'd be back in Paris in no time.

Quiet as a mouse, I lunged for the guard closest to the entrance, coiling my arms taut around his neck. He gasped and spluttered, face turning maroon until he collapsed. I grabbed his collar and dragged him into the nearby bush.

Careful not to ruffle any leaves, I extracted the brass key from his pocket and slid through the front entrance of the Aquarium, my sweatshirt grazing the wood as the tiny crack I slid through opened just wide enough not to make a creak. 

I had to give the city credit: the San Francisco Aquarium was a nice one. The blue and gray striped, boxy building was massive, taking up almost five entire piers, and was completely and utterly filled with the deep-sea life of the North American coast. Sea otters, Whale watching, a variety of sharks, and, of course, the great Pacific octopus were just a fraction of the exhibits, neatly cordoned off into their own sections, divisible only by hallways stacked with plaques upon plaques of sea life information. The whole building was dimly lit, rainbow lights moving sensually, like waves in the cracks and crevices they were slotted into. The ambience was top-notch. A perfect place for introspective thinking. Or a nap.

I was getting distracted. Eyes on the prize. I scanned the room. No guards in sight. I knew the front was light on security. Were they all on break? What could've happened to them? 

A gala in December, on the pier where elites were going missing. I knew the case was a serious one, but I was in no way prepared for the silence. I kept instinctively bringing my hands to my face, expecting a fight at any moment. 

I peered at myself through a tank. My roguish grin was dazzling as ever, unhindered by my fuckass crooked teeth and the gold braces adorning them. I was like, 25 now. My mom should've gotten me them when I was in high school. I brushed my bangs out of my eyes. My mop of hair, a little wet from the mist, was still spiky. My earrings shimmered as my cerulean eyes peered at them through a screen of mildly confused yellow angelfish. 

I dusted off my baggy jeans and tapped my sneakers together. Couldn't be caught out without the Jordans on. I had a cheap, teal blue zip-up jacket on, and a stupid white shirt I had got years ago, with a faded design of a skull with a fedora emblazoned on it. Not my best look, but it had to do.

With my outfit still intact, I began a silent sprint down the hall to the left. The trick was to tread lightly, soles just grazing the ground to avoid noise. Right, left, right, left.

Did I have any idea where I was going? No. Was I sure to find a clue somewhere? Most definitely. 

I peered at the sign above my head.

CEPHALOPOD ZONE.

The octopi. They were supposed to be smart, yeah? Maybe they could tell me something, lead me in the right direction.

My ear perked up. Something was there, by the central tank. A skittering, light tapping noise.

I froze, ducking behind a cheap plastic chair. 

The sounds continued. But they changed in pitch. A tapping on the glass? A... munching sound?

I peered over the edge of the seat

In front of the main tank stood a little girl. She couldn't be older than 10.

She wore a baggy, dark pink sweatshirt, the sleeves up to the last digit on her fingers. She wore brown, cargo shorts, and a bunch of Tom and Jerry band-aids adorned her knees. A clumsy one, probably tripped over her own feet. Much like me as a kid. 

Her big eyes, strangely enough, were the same dark pink as her sweatshirt. They had to be contacts. A spray of freckles shot across her nose and cheeks, her baby face framed with brown bangs and two neat, symmetrical French braids ending at the base of her neck.

I adjusted my stance, my thighs beginning to cramp. Suddenly, my knee hit a floorboard, and it caved slightly with an agonizing squeak. 

The girl's head shot around, eyes fixed on my chair. I was busted. 

"Hello."

"Um. Hi."

She wagged a finger at me accusingly.

"You're not supposed to be in here."

I shrugged.

"Neither are you. Are those shrimp chips?"

The girl looked guiltily down at her hands. It WAS munching that I had heard. A big bag of shrimp chips, emblazoned with a Korean supermarket logo, crinkled in her grip. 

I swiveled around to the tank. A giant, red great Pacific octopus floated in the middle, almost motionless. Its eye was half-lidded, almost scaly crimson skin was illuminated dimly by the tank lights. The suckers on one of its tentacles gripped the edge of the tank, and the girl's hand grazed the thin glass that separated them.

Suddenly, it snapped up a chip floating in the water. I flinched at the sudden movement. 

"The big guy's your friend, huh?"

"Yeah. His name's Calamari."

"You named him after a fried squid dish?"

The girl looked down and blushed sheepishly.

"I don't know."

I put my hands on my hips.

"What are ya doin' here? I'm pretty sure the place is supposed to be locked down for a gala."

The girl's mouth quivered, her face radiating uncertainty. 

"You can tell me. I'm not supposed to be here either. I got no one to spill to."

She dropped the bag of chips and plopped down in a chair across from me, little legs crossed. 

"I live in an orphanage downtown. We went here once on a school field trip. This guy took an interest in me, and we've been friends ever since. I sneak out after I finish my homework to see him. The lady running the orphanage doesn't care where we go."

Peculiar kid. 

"What's your name?"

"Clover. I dunno my last name. Some of the kids have one, some don't."

"Fine by me."

As always, my demeanor was cool as a cucumber. But alarm bells were going off in my head. This place couldn't be safe with an ongoing kidnapping case leading here. I had to get her out. 

Suddenly, her face went dark. Her eyes glistened with a blinding pink glow, and to my shock and amazement, crimson sparks ran down her body, sizzling the fabric of her sweatshirt as the lines of electricity dissipated. 

"DUCK!"

A gunshot rang out. I hit the floor, a bullet whizzing over my head. A near miss. The nearest of misses.

A masked man, kitted out in full tactical gear, a sniper rifle, pistols, an assault rifle, knives, heat goggles, the whole shebang, surged forward.

I snapped a high kick up at his hands, knocking the gun from his grasp, sending it clattering across the floor. 

Whoosh. A right hook. I slipped inward, hitting him with a palm strike to the throat. He gagged, stumbling back. 

The girl's skin sparked once more. 

“His other hand! Watch out!”

Like clockwork, just a couple of seconds later, he reached for a grenade on his belt. Grunting, I grabbed his wrist and pushed him to the floor. With the sharp crack of my elbow against his nose, he was out cold. 

I whipped around in amazement. 

“You knew. Your skin did that thing. You could see his movements. You saw the future.”

The girl stood frozen, her secret revealed. She tried to speak, but her words were caught in her throat. 

She was terrified. Why wouldn't she be?

“My name's Aurum. Aurum Levi. I'm a detective. I'll keep you safe.”