04:47 PM | N.P.U. Headquarters, Metro City
The headquarters parking garage smelled of motor oil and yesterday's rain, familiar scents that Adrian had long since stopped noticing, though they clung to everything like Metro City itself despised to let go. He killed the engine but sat there for a moment, hands still gripping the wheel, staring at the concrete wall ahead without really seeing it.
The weight of what they'd just secured, Yuki's trembling testimony, the encrypted files documenting planned mass murder, the horrifying timeline counting down to catastrophe, pressed down on him like physical weight.
Two to three weeks. That's all they had before Nexo distributed a serum with a 99.7% fatality rate to police departments across the country.
"We should move," Aveline said quietly from the passenger seat, her voice carrying that particular flatness that meant she was simply stating observable fact.
"Yeah," Adrian agreed, finally opening his door. The sound echoed through empty garage space. "Elias needs to see this. Immediately."
They walked toward the elevators in silence, their footsteps creating an odd rhythm, Adrian's heavier, weighted with exhaustion, Aveline's lighter, almost eerily quiet. She moved through the world, he thought not for the first time, like someone who'd learned to occupy as little space as possible. Or maybe someone who simply didn't register physical presence the same way everyone else did.
The elevator hummed as they rose. Adrian caught his reflection in the polished steel doors, tired eyes, jaw tight with tension, the faint shadow of stubble he hadn't had time to shave. He looked, honestly, exactly like someone who'd spent the afternoon listening to confessions about corporate-sponsored murder.
"You're catastrophizing," Aveline observed, watching him with those analytical green eyes.
"I'm thinking."
"Semantically distinct processes. You're projecting negative future outcomes without sufficient probability data. Typical stress response pattern."
Adrian almost laughed, the sound came out more like a sigh. "Do you ever just... worry? Like a normal person?"
Aveline considered this with visible deliberation, head tilting slightly in that bird-like way she had. "I process probability matrices. Worry implies emotional investment in outcomes beyond my control it's inefficient use of cognitive resources."
"Must be nice."
"It's neither nice nor unpleasant. It simply is."
The elevator doors opened onto the administrative floor, harsh fluorescent lighting, the distant sound of phones ringing, the particular smell of government buildings everywhere: old coffee, printer toner, and bureaucratic exhaustion.
05:03 PM | Commander Elias's Office
Elias's office door stood open, which was unusual enough to make Adrian pause. The man believed in closed doors, privacy, containment, the illusion of control in a job that offered precious little. But today the door gaped wide, and through it Adrian could see Elias standing by his window, phone pressed to his ear, voice tight with the particular frustration of someone arguing with politicians who lived in worlds where horror stayed theoretical.
"—don't care about jurisdictional protocols, Senator. We have documented evidence of planned mass distribution of a lethal bioweapon to law enforcement agencies. If you won't authorize emergency intervention, I'll go directly to—"
He noticed Adrian and Aveline in the doorway, gestured them in with sharp urgency while continuing his conversation.
"Yes. I understand perfectly. I'll await your decision." The way he said decision made it sound like something you'd scrape off your shoe. "Good evening, Senator."
He ended the call with more force than strictly necessary, tossing the phone onto his desk where it landed among scattered reports and empty coffee cups, the landscape of a man who'd been living in this office for days, maybe weeks.
"Politicians," Elias muttered, voice bitter as old coffee grounds. "More concerned with optics and campaign contributions than body counts."
Adrian closed the door behind them with a soft click, feeling something heavy settle in his chest. He'd hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Yuki's testimony would be the key that unlocked federal intervention. But hope had an unfortunate habit of colliding with reality.
"We have Yuki Tanaka's full testimony," Adrian said, sliding the encrypted drive across Elias's desk. It left a small trail through dust, such a tiny thing, to contain so much horror. "Executive names, distribution timeline, purchase orders. Everything Marcus died trying to expose."
That got Elias's attention. He turned fully from the window, exhaustion visible in the lines around his eyes, but hope flickering there too, desperate, fragile hope.
"She actually agreed? Testified on record?"
"After some convincing," Adrian said, thinking of Yuki's tear-streaked face, her hands shaking as she'd spoken into the camera. "And Aveline's particularly... direct approach to threat assessment."
"I provided accurate probability analysis," Aveline clarified, as if accuracy somehow softened the blow of telling someone they were already marked for death. "She found it motivating."
"She found it terrifying," Adrian corrected, though honestly, maybe terror and motivation weren't so different when you really needed someone to act.
"Functionally equivalent in this context," Aveline replied with that particular brand of logic that made Adrian want to laugh or scream, he could never quite decide which.
Elias almost smiled, a dark, tired thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let me guess. You told her she was already a target whether she cooperated or not?"
"Statistically likely to become a target," Aveline amended with clinical precision. "Not currently confirmed deceased."
"Christ," Elias breathed, but he was already plugging the drive into his secure terminal, fingers moving with practiced urgency.
Files populated the screen, documents, spreadsheets, internal communications that would end careers and lives if they ever saw daylight. His eyes scanned rapidly, and Adrian watched his expression darken with each passing second, watched hope curdle into something grimmer.
"Confirmed human test subjects... distribution contracts... police department purchase orders..." Elias's voice went flat, the way voices did when horror became too large to process emotionally. He looked up, face pale beneath harsh fluorescent light. "This is worse than we thought. They're not just targeting Metro City. This goes national."
Adrian felt his stomach drop, that particular sensation of freefall with no ground in sight. "How many departments?"
"Twenty-three major metropolitan areas. Over two hundred smaller municipalities." Elias paused, and Adrian watched him do the mental math, watched the calculations turn his face gray. "If even half follow through on these orders, we're looking at tens of thousands of potential casualties. Maybe more."
The room fell silent, not peaceful silence, but the heavy, suffocating kind that pressed down on lungs and made breathing feel like work. Adrian became aware of small sounds: the hum of Elias's computer, the distant ringing of phones outside, his own heartbeat loud in his ears.
"We need federal intervention," Adrian said finally, voice rough. "Emergency authorization. Multi-agency task force. Now."
Elias nodded, already reaching for his phone again, already preparing for another battle with bureaucrats who'd never seen what Adrian had seen. "I'll call the Tribunal directly. Skip the normal channels. This level of threat supersedes protocol."
"How long?" Aveline asked, ever practical.
"If they move fast? Forty-eight hours for initial clearance, maybe seventy-two for full operational authority." He paused, meeting Adrian's eyes with the weight of shared understanding. "Meanwhile, Yuki Tanaka is exposed. Nexo will trace her connection to Marcus eventually. They're thorough like that."
"We're moving her tonight," Adrian said, the decision already made somewhere between the parking garage and this moment. "My safe house. Rotating protection until federal witness protocols activate."
Elias frowned, the particular frown of a commander who wanted to argue but couldn't quite find the grounds. "That's not standard procedure. Protocol says—"
"She trusted me," Adrian interrupted, hearing his own voice go hard with something he couldn't quite name. Protectiveness, maybe. Or stubbornness. Or the particular kind of conviction that came from watching too many good people die because protocols moved too slowly. "She agreed to testify because I asked her to. Because I looked her in the eye and promised we'd stop them. I'm not handing her off to strangers who don't know her name, who don't care about her beyond paperwork."
Elias studied him for a long moment, the kind of look that saw past professional masks to the person underneath. Then he nodded slowly, something like understanding or maybe resignation settling into his expression.
"Fine. Document everything. Every movement, every conversation. If this goes sideways, I need plausible deniability."
"Understood."
"And Cole?" Elias's voice softened, just slightly. "Don't get too attached. Witnesses disappear sometimes, even under our protection. It's just the nature of—"
"I know," Adrian cut him off. Because he did know. Had known since Marcus died on that clean white floor. But knowing didn't change anything. Couldn't change anything.
Some things you did because they were right, not because they were safe.
07:00 PM | Yuki Tanaka's Apartment (Return)
The hallway felt different now, charged with urgency, every shadow suddenly suspicious, every distant sound potentially threatening. Adrian's hand rested on his holster as they approached Apartment 412, muscle memory taking over. He knocked twice, coded rhythm they'd established during the interview, a small security measure that probably wouldn't matter but might buy them seconds if things went wrong.
The door opened immediately. Yuki stood there in fresh clothes, jeans, fitted sweater, practical sneakers instead of the leggings and oversized sweater she'd worn earlier. Her small duffel bag sat packed at her feet, ready to go. She'd been prepared, maybe sitting there by the door waiting for them.
"Ready?" Adrian asked gently, trying to make his voice sound normal, unthreatening, like this was just a casual trip and not the beginning of her disappearance from her own life.
She nodded, but fear showed clear in her eyes, that particular kind of terror that came from understanding, really understanding, that nothing would ever be the same again.
"Where are we going?"
"Safe house. North Metro. Isolated, secure. You'll be safe there."
"For how long?"
"Until federal witness protection activates. Maybe forty-eight hours, maybe longer. Depends on how fast the bureaucrats move."
Yuki swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. "Okay."
Aveline stepped past them both, scanning the apartment one final time with that predatory awareness she had. She checked windows, closet, bathroom, anywhere someone might hide, anywhere a threat might materialize from.
"Apartment is clear. No surveillance detected. Recommend immediate departure."
"Let's move," Adrian said, shouldering Yuki's bag. Light, she'd packed smart, only essentials.
They descended via stairs, safer than the elevator where you could get trapped between floors. Aveline took point, weapon drawn but held low, professional and controlled. Adrian positioned himself between Yuki and potential threats, body instinctively angling to provide cover.
The parking garage felt cavernous in its emptiness, every footstep echoing too loud, every car a potential hiding place. Adrian's nerves sang with tension until they reached his vehicle, sleek black sedan, reinforced frame, tinted windows that would keep Yuki invisible from outside.
07:12 PM | The Drive
They loaded Yuki's bag into the trunk, light, practical, the bare essentials of a life being put on hold. Adrian opened the rear door for her, but she paused, eyes going wide as she took in the car properly for the first time.
"This is your car?"
Adrian felt a slight smile tug at his lips despite everything. "NPU pays well. Sometimes."
"It's... wow." She slid into the back seat, running her hand over the leather with something like reverence.
Aveline settled into the front passenger seat with her usual efficiency, already scanning their surroundings through tinted windows before Adrian even started the engine.
"Lamborghini Vision GT," Aveline said without looking back, her voice carrying that encyclopedia-reciting quality. "5.2-liter V10 engine. Top speed: 202 miles per hour. Zero to sixty in 2.9 seconds. Functionally excessive for urban transport but statistically impressive."
Yuki laughed, the sound surprising in its genuine warmth, cutting through tension like sunlight through storm clouds. "Do you always talk like a user manual?"
Aveline turned slightly, genuine confusion visible in her expression. "Is that criticism?"
"No, just... observation."
Adrian pulled out into evening traffic, taking them toward the industrial district route. In the rearview mirror, he watched something unexpected happen.
Aveline studied Yuki for a long moment, head tilting in that analytical way she had. Then something shifted, not emotion exactly, but interest. Like she'd noticed something worth examining more closely.
"You packed efficiently," Aveline observed, voice carrying a note that might have been, in someone else, approval. "Prioritized essentials over sentiment. That's... competent."
Yuki looked surprised, maybe even pleased. "Thanks?"
"Most civilians over-pack. Emotional attachment to non-functional items creates unnecessary burden. You didn't."
"I've moved a lot," Yuki said, warming slightly to the conversation. "You learn what actually matters pretty fast."
"Adaptability," Aveline nodded once. "Useful trait."
Adrian glanced in the rearview mirror, genuinely confused. Is she... being nice?
The conversation continued as they drove through streets that gradually emptied into industrial wasteland, and Adrian found himself increasingly baffled by what he was witnessing. Aveline, Aveline, was actually engaging with Yuki like a relatively normal human being.
"So... C.R.I.M.E Division," Yuki ventured. "What's that like?"
"Efficient. Minimal bureaucracy. Results-oriented structure."
"Do you like it?"
Aveline considered this with visible deliberation. "I'm... optimal within that structure. 'Like' is irrelevant to functional performance."
"You don't care if you enjoy your job?"
"Enjoyment is secondary to function. I perform well. That's sufficient."
Yuki went quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I guess that makes sense. I wish I could be like that sometimes."
"Why?"
"I overthink everything. Emotions get in the way. You seem... unbothered by all that."
Aveline looked back at her then, and for just a moment something almost gentle crossed her face. "It's not a choice. It's how I'm structured. You... feel things. That's not a flaw."
She said it like observing a biological fact, clinical and detached. But somehow it landed differently. Somehow it sounded almost kind.
"Thanks," Yuki said quietly. "I think."
Silence settled for a moment, comfortable, strange silence.
Then Aveline surprised him again. "Your yoga mat. Do you practice daily?"
Yuki's eyes widened. "You noticed that?"
"Of course. Rolled tight, strapped to bag exterior. Deliberate prioritization suggests routine practice."
"When I can. It helps me center, you know? Calms the anxiety."
"Physical discipline," Aveline said with something that might have been respect. "Respectable."
Yuki smiled, actually smiled. "You should try it sometime."
"Perhaps."
Adrian couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, what is happening back there?"
"What do you mean?" Yuki asked innocently.
He glanced at Aveline in the passenger seat. "You're being... nice. You don't do nice."
"Incorrect assessment," Aveline replied with that clinical precision. "I'm being efficient. Yuki is a cooperative asset. Positive reinforcement improves compliance rates by thirty-seven percent in witness cooperation studies."
Yuki burst out laughing. "Wow. That's the least romantic compliment I've ever gotten."
"Romance wasn't the objective," Aveline said, genuinely confused.
"I know. That's what makes it funny."
Adrian gave up, shaking his head. "I'm surrounded by insanity."
Aveline tilted her head. "You reference insanity frequently. Is that a psychological coping mechanism?"
"Oh my God," Adrian groaned. "You sound like Wednesday Addams."
"I don't understand the reference."
"Of course you don't."
Warehouses loomed on either side now, skeletal structures with broken windows like empty eye sockets, walls scarred with graffiti declaring territory or simply existence. Not the scenic route tourists took through Metro City, but safer for their purposes.
"This doesn't look safe," Yuki said quietly from the back, her voice small in the darkness.
"It's not," Aveline replied without turning, her eyes constantly scanning. "That's why it's optimal. Nexo operatives expect logical routes, main highways, well-lit streets, predictable patterns. This is deliberately suboptimal, therefore tactically superior. They won't anticipate irrationality."
"That... actually makes sense."
"I know."
"Can I ask you something?" Yuki's voice went quieter, more serious.
"Affirmative."
"Do you ever get scared? Like, on missions?"
Aveline genuinely considered the question, treating it with the same analytical attention she brought to everything. "No. Fear is a physiological response to perceived danger. My threat assessment systems function without emotional interference."
"So you just... don't feel it?"
"Correct."
"That must be... freeing," Yuki said, something almost like admiration in her voice.
Aveline looked at her fully then, green eyes meeting brown. "It's neither freeing nor constraining. It simply... is."
A pause, weighted with something unspoken.
"You're not afraid of me," Aveline observed. "Why?"
Yuki met her gaze steadily. "Should I be?"
"Most people are."
"You've been... kind. In your way. You got me out of my apartment. Protected me. That matters."
Aveline processed this, something shifting behind her eyes, calculation, maybe, or satisfaction. Some small piece of data filed away as significant.
"Acknowledged," she said finally.
08:11 PM | Safe House Approach
The road narrowed from asphalt to gravel, city lights fading behind dense tree coverage that swallowed them like entering another world entirely. Isolation felt palpable here, protective, but also vulnerable, cut off from help if things went wrong.
Yuki sat up slightly, looking out at darkness broken only by their headlights cutting through tree shadows. "We're really in the middle of nowhere."
"By design," Aveline confirmed, still scanning for threats even here. "Nearest neighbor: 2.3 miles. Response time for emergency services: eighteen minutes. Gives us tactical advantage for defensive positioning. Multiple sight lines, limited approach vectors."
"Or makes us sitting ducks," Yuki muttered.
"Then we use emergency extraction protocols. Three egress routes mapped. Vehicle stashed 200 meters north. Panic trigger connects directly to C.R.I.M.E. rapid response. Eight-minute arrival time."
"You've really thought this through."
"I don't think. I calculate. There's a difference."