Clover ducked through the bustling streets of the market, weaving past vendors shouting prices, children running in circles, and tourists who clearly had no idea what chaos was about to unfold. In his hand was a small bottle of whiskey his "gift" for Ryker. He tapped it thoughtfully.
Perfect. Dose the old man just enough to make him nap while I explore his secret stash… and maybe finally figure out what he's hiding from me.
He grinned to himself, shoulders swaying as he imagined Ryker snoring through an entire afternoon while Clover investigated undisturbed. Then his grin faltered. Clara.
God, she's going to hate this… I have to look cool and heartless, but inside… Ugh.
He shook his head, trying to focus on more pressing matters like not getting caught. Unseen by him, three dark-suited agents were subtly threading through the crowd, scanning for someone. Their black suits, faint insignias glinting on collars, whispered of a shadowy network something Clover couldn't yet name, but which would later be called ORION.
Clover stepped into a narrow alleyway, spinning around a crate of pineapples like a circus performer. "One… two… three…" He counted to himself like he was defusing a bomb. "And… escape!" He leapt over a low fence, bottle still clutched triumphantly.
The agents blinked. One muttered, "Wait, did he just…" The other shrugged, pretending to be distracted by a suspiciously loud chicken. Clover crouched behind a fish stall, peering at a block of salmon as if it were a mountain hiding him.
Good. Perfect cover. He won't see me here… right?
He tiptoed behind the stall, but a toddler barreled into him, shrieking about missing ice cream. Clover grabbed the nearest item a baguette and held it like a sword. "Stand back, intruder! I am… a hero!" He gave the kid a solemn nod. The child ran off screaming, leaving Clover to laugh quietly.
Okay, okay… need a plan. They can't know what I'm really after. Let's see… Ryker… nap… secrets… Nyx… probably a lynx somewhere guarding the forbidden areas…
He glanced around, imagining the lynx perched silently in the shadows. "Nyx, you big furball… you're going to try to stop me, aren't you?" he whispered, spinning the bottle in his hand.
The agents closed in, slowly, subtly. Clover's eyes narrowed. "Hmm… they're persistent. Good for me. This just makes it fun."
He darted past a fruit cart again, knocking a melon onto one of the agents' feet. "Oh, sorry! Didn't see that there!" Clover said with exaggerated politeness. The agent yelped and hopped backward, slipping on a stray tomato.
Yes. Chaos. Good. Excellent.
Clover vaulted over a stack of crates, landing in a dramatic crouch. "Timing is everything!" He muttered, spinning the bottle in one hand while using the other to fling a handful of loose beans at his pursuers. Beans flew everywhere—one agent slipped dramatically, sprawling into a barrel of onions, while another collided with a signpost.
I swear… they're clumsy. Clover ducked behind a hot dog stand, inhaling the spicy aroma. "Mmm… maybe I'll grab a sausage later. Focus, Clover. Hero stuff… stealth… gifts… Nyx…"
He imagined Clara's face, teary from saying goodbye, and clenched his jaw. She doesn't deserve me running off like this. But it's necessary… she'll understand someday… maybe.
Clover peeked around a corner, seeing the agents regroup. "Ah… strategy time." He crouched, whispering like a tactician. "Step one: confusion. Step two: distraction. Step three: sprint like a maniac."
He tossed a handful of coins into a street musician's hat, causing a minor commotion, then darted down a side street, leaping over laundry lines, narrowly avoiding a falling basket of oranges, and sliding down a small ramp into a fountain with a graceful, heroic splash.
Yes… heroic indeed.
By the time Clover emerged, the agents had lost sight of him, slipping and sliding across the wet cobblestones. He dusted off his hands, checking the bottle. Still intact. He smirked.
Phase one complete. Now… Ryker's house. Hopefully the old man enjoys a nap.
He paused, taking a breath. The market noise faded behind him, replaced by the quiet thrill of adventure. Somewhere, in the distance, he imagined Nyx's golden eyes glinting in the shadows, silently judging him.
Nyx… this isn't over. But I'm ready for you.
Clover turned the corner, blending into the crowd once more, hands tucked into his pockets, humming a little tune. He might have been pretending to be carefree, heartless even, but inside… his thoughts lingered on Clara, on Akira's warning, and on the shard in his pocket.
They have no idea what's coming. Neither do I… but let's make this fun.
Clover ducked behind a fruit stand, juggling the bottle in one hand like it was a priceless relic and checking over his shoulder every two seconds. The crowded market was alive with shouting vendors, clanging pots, and the occasional squawk of a chicken. Perfect cover or so he thought.
"Okay… note to self," he muttered, slipping between people. "Buy alcohol for Ryker. Dose him. Sneak in. Explore house. Don't die. Easy." He paused, imagining Clara's disappointed face. She's gonna hate me leaving… no, she's going to cry. I'll just… smile and whistle. He tried to whistle. It came out as a strangled squeak.
Just as he rounded a corner, three agents in dark suits and sunglasses materialized like they'd been hiding behind every stall.
"Stop right there, boy!" one shouted, nearly knocking over a pile of pineapples.
Clover froze mid-step, the alcohol bottle swinging precariously. "Uh… hello, gentlemen? Can we negotiate?" he asked, holding the bottle up like a white flag.
The agents didn't laugh. They didn't even blink.
Clover backed up, tripped over a crate of tomatoes, and fell flat on his face. "I meant to do that," he mumbled, wiping tomato juice off his cheek. "It's tactical tomatoes confuse enemies."
The agents advanced, and Clover's mind raced. Nyx… that Nyx! If only you were here. Wait, what would Nyx do?
Before he could come up with a plan, a blur of black shot through the crowd. In a heartbeat, all three agents were flat on the ground, sprawled in ridiculous positions, one still clutching a squashed pineapple. Clover blinked, utterly confused.
A girl in black stepped over them, tossing a single glance at Clover. Her movements were fluid, almost teasing in their precision. She didn't say a word she just turned, disappeared into the market crowd, leaving Clover staring at the chaos.
"You… you saved me?" Clover whispered, his hand shaking as he held up the bottle like a victory trophy. "Who… what… was that?" He looked down at the agents, who were groaning and rubbing their heads, tomatoes and pineapples everywhere.
"Okay," Clover muttered to himself, brushing off his clothes. "Plan A: buy alcohol. Check. Plan B: survive market ambush. Check. Plan C: figure out who just moonwalked through my life like a ninja angel… incomplete."
He sighed, glancing at the bottle. Ryker's going to love this. Or hate it. Wait… Clara's going to hate me even more. He chuckled nervously, holding the bottle tightly as he melted back into the crowd.
The shard in his pocket pulsed faintly, almost like it was amused.
The three men staggered back, groaning, their pride bruised far worse than their bodies. Victor LaSalle's sharp voice cut through the chaos like a whip.
"Who sent you? Tell me!"
They exchanged nervous glances. "I… we don't know… sir. It was someone… someone we've never seen before."
A shadow moved between them and LaSalle a figure cloaked in black, swift and silent. The girl's presence radiated authority and danger, and even in the dim light, the sharpness in her stance left no doubt: she was not to be trifled with.
"Next time you touch him," she hissed, voice low and lethal, "you'll regret it."
Before anyone could react, she vanished into the crowded streets, leaving only the faint echo of her warning behind. LaSalle's glare burned into the air, the three men trembling, and Clover… completely unaware that someone powerful had just stepped in to save him.
The shard in his pocket pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging the unseen hand that had intervened.
Somewhere in the distance, the faint insignia on the agents' collars glinted in the sunlight an unseen reminder that ORION has eyes everywhere, even when Clover doesn't yet know the name.