"Fuck! Answer your phone, Oline!"
Arion's fist slammed into the wall, the impact sharp enough to sting his knuckles.
"Arion!"
He turned, fear, anger, and denial stamped across his face.
"We have patrols moving through every route to your mother's house," Treya said firmly. "Drones have eyes on the skies. Believe me—we're doing everything in our power to find her."
She watched him as the words landed. His disbelief curdled into something worse, something hollowed and sinking, despair creeping up his spine in slow, suffocating inches.
"N-no… th-this can't be happening."
Before she could console him, another voice came.
A rough, tired and stressful voice, one that split his composure further.
"Where is she?! My Oline—where is she?!"
Arion's head snapped toward the door. His body followed a half-step behind, hesitation locking his feet in place as if crossing that distance might shatter something he couldn't put back together.
Then her radio came to life.
"Station to Treya"—CHZZ
"This is a 10-29"—CHZZ
Treya was already moving. She turned sharply, thumb depressing the radio's side button.
"Yeah, Ruez, go ahead." —CHZZ
"We have a potential match on suspect, requesting backup to confirm"—CHZZ
"Send co-ords to my Forcer," Treya replied instantly. "My squad will be there in five. Over and out."—CHZZ
She released the button and clipped the radio back into place.
Then she turned to Arion and placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Arion," she said softly, the edge gone from her voice. "I know we've had our history… but I still care about you and your mother. I'm here if you need me."
Old feelings tugged at her chest—familiar, unwelcome, and unresolved.
She inhaled slowly, grounding herself.
"Now go be with your mum," she said. "She needs her son."
Treya pulled the door wide open.
"We've got a 10-29," she called. "Move. Forcer."
Her squad filed out one by one, boots echoing as they passed Arion, who remained frozen in place, still trying to process the words he'd heard.
Treya paused at the threshold. She glanced back at him, lingered for a moment too long—then turned and left.
…
Arion stood there, hands trembling.
He drew a shaky breath and stepped inside.
"Mum, are you—"
The words caught in his throat.
She sat hunched on the hospital bed, shoulders collapsed inward, her gaze fixed on nothing. Empty. Still. As if life itself had gone quiet behind her eyes.
Only when she sensed she wasn't alone did she look up.
"Arion?"
Her face was drawn and raw, eyes red and swollen—she'd been crying for a long time.
"They called you?"
"Yeah," he said, voice low. "Treya told me."
"They're going to find her, Mum."
He sat beside her and pulled her close, her weight lighter than it should've been.
"Everything's going to be okay," he murmured. "I taught her how to defend herself."
His hand rubbed slow circles into her shoulder.
"She's strong," he said. "Like you."
She didn't respond right away—staring past him, lost in her own thoughts.
"D-did they call your father?" she asked quietly. "He should've finished work by now…"
Something inside Arion gave way.
"N-no, Mum," he said gently. "He's not around anymore. Remember?"
Silence settled heavy in the room.
"Oh—right." Her voice wavered. "I-I'm sorry, Arion. I've just been so busy lately and—and…"
Her words dissolved, exhaustion finally claiming her as she slipped into uneasy sleep.
Arion sat there, her head resting against his shoulder.
His teeth clenched.
It's happening more often…
…
Sometime past, he gently put his Mother back onto the bed, ensuring that a night at the hospital would be the best in her current condition.
Arion looked at her for a few moments, his Mother's soft breathing gave him at least some relief. Even if it wouldn't last long.
He turned and made his way out, silently shutting the door behind him.
"Sorry, Mum," he whispered to the empty corridor. "I'm gonna have to break our promise."
Silence settled in as only his footsteps were heard walking down the corridor.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
Arion stood beneath the flickering sign of a worn-out bar in the city's red-light district.
Jerry's Pitstop.
Normally it would've been loud—rowdy laughter, broken music, bad decisions spilling into the street.
Now it barely stood with a whisper.
Council declarations had crushed this neighbourhood flat.
Rain soaked into his coat, droplets still running off the leather as he stood beneath the awning. His car sat abandoned in an alley further down the road. Hood pulled up, face hidden.
He wasn't surprised when the door didn't budge.
He knocked. Hard.
Muffled voices inside. A pause. Locks clicked.
A narrow gap opened.
"Can you read mate? We aren't open anymore!"
Arion stared for a moment before lifting his gaze.
"Jerry," he said. "It's me."
"…Do I know you?"
Arion pulled his hood back.
"Arion."
The door opened wider.
"Arion?" Jerry blinked. "Wait—Arion? I haven't seen you in years!"
"Mmh," Arion said. "I need information. Like old times. Preferably indoors."
"Oh—yeah, yeah." Jerry waved him in. "Come on."
He stepped aside and opened the door.
When he entered he saw two other people, one was a taller burly man, middle-aged, rough around the edges. The other was a woman, wearing a revealing dress, cigarette glowing between her fingers, glass dangling loose in her hand.
Jerry followed Arion's stare.
"Don't mind them," he said quickly. "Just guests."
The woman smiled lazily and waved.
"So," Jerry said, rubbing his hands. "What d'you need?"
"Ford," Arion said. "Where is he?"
The air shifted.
"Uh…"
An awkward pause came.
The other two guests stopped chatting and paid attention to their conversation.
"Ford? You gotta be more specific mate, I'm not sure—"
"You know exactly who I mean," Arion cut in. "You've got connections. You can drop the act."
Jerry swallowed.
"Look, mate," he said carefully. "You've been gone a long time. Things don't work like they used to."
Arion stepped closer.
"Fuck your rules," he said quietly. "Tell me where he is. Now."
He glared at him, rage was building up inside.
"I don't have time. Oh wait, a payment is it? How about you keep your nice smile and straight white teeth, that's a good bargain, Mate?"
Jerry tried to smile.
"Arion, I owe you a few, I do. But you can't come in ere' demanding this and that mate. I'll look past the threat this time—"
Arion's patience cracked.
THUMP!—CRCKK.
A fist smashed into his jaw.
Jerry staggered back, clutching his face.
Mhhf! Mys' jaw—yous bruk' it!"
"Where. Is. Ford."
"Don't keep wasting my time. Oxygen is wasted on your every breath."
He loomed over him, the shadow of his body swallowing Jerry where he lay.
Movement caught the edge of his vision—
One moment he saw strong hands grip his leather coat, fingers digging into leather.
And the next moment his vision spiraled, smashing into the pool table, flipping over to the other side. Wood rattled and glass clinked from the impact.
The air was knocked out of him—a sharp grunt escaped as he regained his composure.
"Jerry, you 'right?"
"Kenny! Don jush stan there, get im!"
Arion grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself up, a slight groan left him.
His eyes locked onto a pool cue resting against the table's edge.
Perfect.
Kenny came storming around the pool table charging toward where Arion stood—arms already swinging, aiming right for his face.
Arion moved.
The cue snapped up into his hands as the swing came down. He redirected it with smooth precision, the wood acting as an anchor, stealing momentum and bleeding it away along a forced arc. The impact slid past him instead of through him, the attacker's weight betraying him.
Arion countered instantly.
The thicker side of the cue whipped across his head, hitting Kenny straight across the face.
A pommel strike followed—short, brutal—snapping straight into the bridge of the nose.
Crack.
The bone fractured against wood.
Kenny reeled back in pain but quickly followed with a right hook.
He quickly switched grips, flipping the cue so the tip side was the point of striking.
A thrust drove the cue forward into the bicep, right into the meat of the muscle. The impact was surgical. Fibres tore. The arm went slack mid-motion, strength draining out of it like water from a ruptured vein.
Before the man could even register the pain, Arion pivoted.
The final swing came horizontal and merciless.
The cue shattered across the man's skull, wood exploding into splinters as the body dropped hard to the floor, unmoving.
Silence rushed in.
Tonk.
What remained of the broken cue fell to the ground.
Arion turned back to Jerry.
Jerry's stained teeth were exposed, plastered with blood.
Surprisingly, he was smiling.
CRACK.
White exploded in Arion's eyes.
The world spun.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——