The air in the bar hung thick with the smell of stale rum and woodsmoke. Rain lashed against the grimy windows, a steady, mournful rhythm that did little to drown out the crackle of the radio receiver behind the bar.
A man in a dark, heavy coat and a wide-brimmed fedora sat hunched over a small table in the corner, holding a single glass of dark rum. He wasn't looking at anyone, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid as it swirled in the glass.
"Heard the news?"
the barkeep asked, wiping down a mug with a damp cloth. The man didn't look up, just took a slow sip. The barkeep, a burly man with lazy eyes, continued, undeterred.
"The Baron's warehouse blew sky-high over in the suburbs. Blew it right to hell, they say. Like a giant… a giant firework."
The man in the fedora put his glass down, the sound a soft clink against the polished wood.
"A firework, eh?"
His voice was low.
"Seems a bit more destructive than that."
"The report on the transmitter said the tremors of the explosion was felt in many parts of Reed,"
the barkeep said, shaking his head.
"Reed was never a safe place,"
the man said simply. He took another sip, then drained the glass, the last drops of rum disappearing down his throat. He reached into his coat and pulled out a fifty-orn bill, laying it flat on the table. It was more than enough for the drink.
"Keep the change,"
he mumbled, pushing himself up from the table.
"Cheers,"
the barkeep said, picking up the bill.
"Hope you come back soon."
The man didn't answer. He just pulled the fedora lower over his eyes, turned, and walked out into the rain.
The street was chaos. People were running, their faces a mix of fear and panic. They were all heading away from the Suburbs, their desperate movements a stark contrast to the small groups of figures moving in the opposite direction.
The man watched as a trio of young thugs, their clothes tattered and their faces grimed with dirt, scuttled past him, a crowbar clutched in one of their hands. They were heading towards the site of the explosion. Probably hoping to scavenge some of the abandoned automobiles. The man sighed. He knew that even in chaos, some people would always see an opportunity.
A soft, metallic chime echoed from his waistcoat. He reached inside and pulled out a small, brass-cased receiver. He brought it to his ear.
"Who is this?"
he asked, his voice low and cautious.
"Theodore,"
a voice, sharp and imperious, replied.
"It's Calvin."
Theodore stopped walking. He stared at the brass receiver.
"Is this about the explosion?"
"Afraid so."
The Baron's voice was clipped, cold.
"Come to Reed Manor. We have things to discuss."
"I'm a bit busy at the moment, Baron."
"I don't want to be kept waiting, Theodore,"
Calvin's voice cut through the air, sharper this time. The line went dead.
Theodore let out a long, weary sigh, tucking the receiver back into his coat. He looked down the street at the chaos of the city. He shook his head and started to make his way toward the Manor.
Inside the grand study of Reed Manor, Baron Calvin stood before a large fireplace, its flames casting a warm glow across the faces of the children gathered before him. They stood in a semicircle, silent and attentive. Charolette stood to his right, her posture as rigid and perfect as always.
"You all know why you've been called here,"
the Baron said, his voice low. They all gave a small nod. He smiled, a thin, humourless curl of his lips.
"Good. There has been an… unfortunate incident. An explosion. You will be investigating to determine its cause."
He gestured to Charolette.
"She will provide the full briefing and prepare you for the operation."
Charolette stepped forward, her movements fluid and silent. She gestured to a stack of eight black suitcases in the corner of the study. Each had a different white symbol on its side.
"Each suitcase contains a uniform,"
she said, her voice clear and precise.
"They also double as battlesuits, capable of protecting you from most attacks."
The six children stared at the suitcases, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and trepidation. The twins, however, were already moving.
Eta strode forward and picked up the suitcase with the η symbol on it. Theta also followed and took the one with the θ symbol. They barely glanced at the cases, as if they had done this a hundred times before.
"Which one is ours?"
Briar asked, her voice quiet.
"Your name is on each corresponding suitcase,"
Charolette said. She bent down and picked up the top one which had the α symbol.
"This one… Briar Hayes. Codename: Alpha."
She handed it to Briar, who clutched it to her chest.
Charolette picked up the next one which had the ε symbol.
"Beatrice Fontaine. Codename: Epsilon."
Beatrice took it with a shaky hand, her large eyes wide and filled with a anxiety.
The next suitcase which had the γ symbol was given to Rhys.
"Rhys Fisher. Codename: Gamma."
Rhys took his with a confident nod, a slight smile on his face.
The next one had the β symbol on it.
"Felix Vance. Codename: Beta."
The next had the Ω symbol.
"Corbin Finch. Codename: Omega."
Corbin's eyes, usually so calculating and cold, held a flicker of curiosity as he took his suitcase.
The last suitcase which had the Δ symbol was given to Emmett
"And the last… Emmett Thorne. Codename: Delta."
Emmett took the suitcase and simply held it, his expression unreadable.
"What's with the codenames?"
Felix asked, breaking the silence.
"It's a more efficient way to communicate during operations,"
the Baron replied, his hands clasped behind his back.
"It allows for communication without revealing your names."
"What would happen if our real names were exposed?"
Corbin asked, his voice a low, measured tone.
The Baron's smile vanished.
"That,"
he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper,
"should never happen. If it does… it will not end well for that person."
A tense silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating. The fire crackled, the only sound for a moment.
"Any more questions regarding the investigation?"
the Baron asked, his voice returning to its normal volume.
Rhys raised his hand.
"Are we supposed to wear the uniforms at all times during the operation?"
"The twins will direct you on when to use them,"
the Baron answered.
"How do you expect us to investigate, Baron?"
Corbin asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"We're just children."
The Baron smiled again, that same humourless smile.
"I have called in someone to work with you. A consultant of sorts. He will be here soon."
Just as he finished speaking, a soft knock came at the study door. A household staff member in a neat, black uniform entered.
"Baron, there is someone waiting for you at the front door."
"It must be him,"
the Baron said, a hint of anticipation in his voice.
"Send him in."
The staff member nodded and left. After a few moments, the study door opened once more and a man stepped inside, shaking the last of the rain from his fedora. It was the same man from the bar, Theodore.
The Baron's smile widened.
"Children,"
he said, gesturing to the man.
"This is Theodore."