The sun fell slowly that evening, like honey slipping from a tilted spoon, casting long golden fingers across the dusty streets of the town.
The light caught in the shallow puddles left behind by the afternoon rain, turning mud into bronze and the cracked sidewalks into cobbled trails of molten amber.
Shadows stretched, narrow and sharp, like knives drawn from ancient scabbards.
The air carried a stillness, thick with promise and premises.
And then, as if signaled by the fading light, the town began to transform.
Shutters were pulled open, lanterns strung across alleyways like suspended fireflies.
Burlap bunting fluttered between aged balconies, and wooden barrels were rolled out to serve as makeshift tables.
Everything had the aesthetic of a wornout Western painting raw wood, rope lanterns, brass fixings, and the smell of old earth and whiskey.
Yellow lights flickered to life, glowing from gas-fed lamps shaped like old mining torches.
Children ran barefoot with candy sticks, the echoes of their laughter mixing with the soft, lonesome notes of a harmonica player stationed at the corner of the square.
This was no ordinary town.
It knew how to put on a mask.
Just like the people who lived in it.
.....
Inside the salon, Rein and Claire were cleaning up the last of the day's hair, sweeping the loose curls of their earlier visitor into a pan. Rein moved with precision, her expression unreadable. Claire leaned on the counter, looking out through the front glass pane, her brows furrowed not in worry, but calculation.
The door chime rang softly.
Not like a customer.
More like a storm breaching the calm.
He stepped back in, the same man from before now without the cool polish he wore during his cut.
The soldier's storm green eyes were colder now. His jaw tighter.
The polite stranger was gone.
What remained was something feral beneath the skin.
He didn't wait for pleasantries.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even look at Rein.
His eyes locked on Claire.
"Thought I felt something strange earlier," he muttered, low and sharp as a blade being unsheathed. "And now I know it's you."
Rein and the salon owner instinctively moved between them instinctively.
"Sir..."
He shoved both of them aside. Not hard enough to throw her across the room, but with the sort of practiced force meant to assert dominance without making a mess.
Claire stumbled back behind the counter, her eyes wide, hands trembling but not with fear.
He lunged across the counter, grabbed Claire by the wrist. "Show me," he hissed. "What are you?"
But before he could yank her forward
A sound, sharp and ugly, split the air.
And then the man was gone,ripped backward with a violent "thud" into the mirror-lined wall.
It was Scott.
Not the version of Scott who sat lazily outside cafés or lounged behind the wheel of unmarked vans.
This was Scott in motion—raw, methodical, merciless.
"Get your filthy hands off the girls," he growled.
The man tried to fight back, elbow shooting out to catch Scott's ribs but he never made it.
Scott's palm slammed into his wrist, twisting it backward with a crunch of tendons.
The man roared in pain but Scott was already behind him, arm hooked around his throat in a brutal chokehold.
The salon fell into chaos luckily, the town was in so much chattering that the noise didn't seem to be heard from within.
Rein moved to Claire and the owner, shielding her with her telekinesis ability which created a barrier around them as bottles crashed to the ground. The soldier struggled violently, kicking over a chair, knocking a side table clean across the floor.
But Scott didn't let go.
His eyes were dead calm with a hint of mockery, his grip unshakable.
"Always the clever ones who think they can sniff out the magic," Scott muttered near the man's ear. "And always the dumb ones who think they can steal the peace from one's own home."
The soldier's eyes fluttered as air thinned in his lungs, vision clouding.
Then..
"BAM" The back door burst open, kicked wide.
Scott dragged the man through it, his body limp but still alive.
The alley behind the salon was narrow, lit only by the flickering bulbs strung along the buildings. Rats scattered. The night wind carried the faintest tang of oil and blood.
The van's back doors were already open.
A boy from the van lean, silent, efficient stepped aside to let Scott pass.
Scott tossed the man inside like a bundle of meat. The thud was final.
Then, as casually as tying off a bag of trash, Scott slammed the doors shut, bolted them, and gave two sharp raps on the side. The driver nodded and eased the van into the darkness, no lights, no sound, disappearing into the veins of the town like blood into muscle.
Scott stood in the alley for a moment, his knuckles bloodied.
He lit a cigarette with a single flick of his silver lighter and took a long drag.
Then he walked to the front where an old bike in which he originally came in was park and drove away.
In the salon, Rein was dabbing a warm cloth on Claire's wrist while Claire stared at the place where the man had stood shoulders tight, face pale while the owner was busy cleaning up her already destroyed interior space of the salon, barely having any mirrors or chairs intact.
Crook walked in, his face dawned with a frown . He didn't say a word.
Rein looked up. "Handled?"
Crook gave a tight nod. "It will all be taken care of soon."
Claire finally spoke.
"His watch beeped just before he went for me. It reacted to my whisper."
Rein and Crook exchanged a look.
Crook exhaled his whole body trembled with anger. "They're testing frequencies now."
"Means someone told them we were here," Rein added quietly.
Crook grunted. "We'll need to move up the schedule."
Claire looked up. "What about the festival?"
Rein stood, pulled her gloves tighter.
"The festival can go on." Her voice was cold now. Focused. "if we were to make any move it would make it confirm their suspicions better to continue with this cover."
Claire swallowed hard.
Outside, the music from the square began to rise, soft fiddles and the low beat of drums.
But in the town's hidden corners where truth slept with knives under its pillow war drums were beginning to stir. The gentlemen soon opened their eyes.