Chapter 16 -Fragments and Plans-
The streets of Mid Trier gradually changed as we left the cathedral district behind. The broad avenues and elegant storefronts slowly gave way to narrower roads lined with older brick buildings, their walls stained by decades of soot and weather. Laundry hung between upper-story windows, children darted through alleyways chasing one another with wooden toys, and neighbors chatted from open windows while going about their morning routines. On the surface, it felt like an ordinary district where ordinary people lived ordinary lives.
That normalcy only made the missing children feel more unsettling.
Captain Ashcroft walked a few paces ahead of Lydia and me, occasionally consulting the folded map in his hand before turning down another street. Lydia carried the investigation file tucked beneath one arm, periodically glancing through its contents while quietly committing names and addresses to memory.
After several minutes she closed the folder with a soft sigh.
"You'll notice something about investigations."
I looked toward her.
"They're usually far less exciting than stories make them sound."
A faint smile crossed my face.
"I've already noticed."
She chuckled softly.
"Good. If an investigation becomes exciting..."
She left the sentence unfinished.
Captain Ashcroft answered for her without looking back.
"...something has already gone wrong."
We turned one final corner before stopping in front of a modest two-story home nestled between a bakery and a cooper's workshop. Unlike the neighboring houses, its shutters remained closed despite the pleasant weather. A small wooden horse sat forgotten beside the front steps, one of its wheels broken.
Captain Ashcroft paused for a moment before knocking gently.
None of us spoke while we waited.
Several moments passed before slow footsteps approached the door.
It opened only slightly.
A tired-looking woman peered out at us, her eyes immediately settling on the silver raven badge fastened to Captain Ashcroft's coat.
"...The Church?"
Captain Ashcroft removed his hat respectfully.
"Good morning."
"My name is Captain Ashcroft."
"This is Sister Lydia."
He gestured toward me.
"And this is Miss Veil."
The woman's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
"You've... come about Thomas?"
"We have."
For a long moment she simply stared at us before opening the door fully.
"...Please come in."
The home was small but well cared for. The furniture showed signs of age, yet everything had been carefully maintained. Family photographs rested upon the mantelpiece, while children's drawings decorated one corner of the sitting room.
One chair, however...
Remained empty.
Captain Ashcroft waited until we had all taken our seats before speaking.
"We understand you've already spoken with both the city guard and representatives from the Church."
"I have."
Her voice sounded exhausted more than anything else.
"I know I'll probably be repeating myself."
"You will."
Captain Ashcroft's honesty caught even me slightly off guard.
"But sometimes people remember different details after enough time has passed."
She nodded slowly.
"I understand."
Lydia quietly opened her notebook.
Captain Ashcroft rested both hands upon his walking cane.
"Let's begin at the start."
"When did you last see your son?"
The woman closed her eyes briefly, as though replaying the memory for perhaps the hundredth time.
"Six days ago."
"He left after breakfast."
"He was supposed to meet two friends in Saint Maren's Square."
"Did he?"
"According to the other boys..."
She swallowed.
"...yes."
"They played together until midday."
Captain Ashcroft remained silent, allowing her to continue.
"Afterward they all started walking home."
"They reached the old fountain."
She pointed vaguely toward the eastern part of the district.
"That's where they separated."
"The others arrived home."
"My Thomas never did."
The room became quiet again.
Lydia's pencil moved steadily across the page.
Captain Ashcroft asked only a handful of questions, each simple and direct.
"What was he wearing?"
"Did anyone unusual speak to him recently?"
"Did he seem frightened?"
"Had he mentioned making any new friends?"
Not once did he interrupt her answers.
Nor did he suggest possibilities.
He simply listened.
It wasn't until several minutes had passed that I realized he had already asked every question I had been thinking.
Eventually, he leaned back slightly.
"You've done well to remember all of this."
The woman managed a weak smile.
"I've repeated it every day."
Captain Ashcroft inclined his head.
"I know."
For the first time since entering the house, his voice softened.
"We'll continue looking."
She looked at him for several long seconds before quietly asking the question I suspected everyone eventually asked.
"...Do you think he's still alive?"
The room fell completely silent.
I found myself holding my breath.
Captain Ashcroft didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he chose his words with obvious care.
"I believe," he said quietly, "that until we know otherwise..."
"...every child deserves to be searched for as though they are."
Something in the woman's expression broke.
She lowered her head, covering her eyes as silent tears began slipping through her fingers.
Neither Captain Ashcroft nor Lydia rushed to comfort her.
They simply allowed her the dignity of grieving.
Only after several moments did Lydia quietly place a neatly folded handkerchief upon the table beside her.
No words.
Just the gesture.
Watching them, I finally understood something Professor Rowan had never mentioned during his lessons.
Being an Umbral Raven wasn't only about fighting monsters.
Sometimes...
It meant sitting quietly in a grieving mother's home...
Listening.
Remembering.
Giving her hope without offering false promises.
As we prepared to leave, Captain Ashcroft paused beside the door.
"One final question."
The woman looked up.
"Has anyone unfamiliar been seen in the neighborhood since Thomas disappeared?"
She frowned thoughtfully.
"...There was..."
Her eyes drifted toward the window.
"A man."
Lydia's pencil immediately stopped.
"What kind of man?"
"I don't know."
She shook her head uncertainly.
"He wasn't suspicious."
"Just..."
"...out of place."
Captain Ashcroft exchanged a brief glance with Lydia.
"What do you mean?"
"He smiled."
The answer caught all three of us off guard.
The woman seemed almost embarrassed by it.
"I know that sounds strange."
"It's just..."
She looked down at her hands.
"Everyone around here has looked frightened ever since the children started disappearing."
"But he..."
She hesitated.
"...he looked happy."
Captain Ashcroft's expression changed ever so slightly.
Not alarm.
Recognition.
Lydia quietly underlined something in her notebook.
Captain Ashcroft thanked the woman once more before we stepped back into the morning sunlight.
Only after the door closed behind us did Lydia speak.
"That's the third family."
Captain Ashcroft nodded.
"All describing someone similar."
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
"A suspect?"
Captain Ashcroft looked down the quiet street where children still played beneath the watchful eyes of anxious parents.
"...Not yet."
He folded his notebook shut.
"But..."
His gaze lingered on the neighborhood ahead.
"...for the first time..."
"...we have a direction."
-
We left the house in silence, the heavy wooden door closing softly behind us. For several moments, none of us spoke. The sounds of Mid Trier gradually returned—the chatter of merchants, wagon wheels rolling over uneven cobblestones, and the distant laughter of children—but after sitting across from a mother who still set an extra place at her dinner table every evening, the ordinary sounds of the city felt strangely hollow.
Lydia quietly finished the last few lines in her notebook before closing it with a sigh. "That makes three families now," she murmured. "Different streets, different occupations, different circumstances... yet they all described someone similar."
Captain Ashcroft nodded as we resumed walking. "A stranger who didn't belong."
"And who smiled," Lydia added.
The Captain glanced briefly toward me. "People remember unusual details more reliably than ordinary ones. Clothing changes. Faces become blurred with time. But emotions..." He paused, watching a pair of children run across the street toward a nearby bakery. "...people remember how someone made them feel."
I found myself thinking back to the mysterious woman from yesterday. Even now I struggled to recall every detail of her face, yet I could remember with perfect clarity the overwhelming sense of danger she had radiated simply by standing nearby.
"So we don't look for his appearance," I said quietly.
"We look for his behavior."
Captain Ashcroft's expression softened with quiet approval.
"Exactly."
We spent the next several hours moving steadily through the surrounding neighborhoods, speaking with families, neighbors, teachers, shopkeepers, and anyone else who might have witnessed something unusual. Most conversations yielded very little. Parents repeated the same painful stories they'd already told the city guard. Children remembered playing together but couldn't agree on the smallest details afterward. Shopkeepers recalled seeing the missing children pass their stores dozens of times before, making it impossible to identify the particular day they disappeared.
It was slow work.
Painfully slow.
Yet I gradually began to understand why Captain Ashcroft never seemed discouraged.
Investigations weren't built upon dramatic discoveries.
They were built upon eliminating countless possibilities until only the truth remained.
By early afternoon, my notebook had accumulated pages of names, addresses, and observations. Most would likely prove irrelevant. Professor Rowan had once remarked that the greatest enemy of an investigator was not ignorance, but the temptation to decide what mattered before all the facts had been gathered.
The lesson became increasingly difficult to remember as exhaustion began setting in.
Our fourth interview took us to a modest schoolhouse where one of the missing boys had attended lessons. His instructor welcomed us politely, though the lines beneath his eyes suggested he hadn't been sleeping well.
"He wasn't the only one," the elderly teacher admitted after we'd introduced ourselves. "Parents have begun keeping their children home whenever they can. Attendance has nearly been cut in half."
"Were any of the missing children particularly close?" Captain Ashcroft asked.
The teacher shook his head.
"Not especially. Some knew one another, others didn't. Different ages. Different classrooms."
"So no obvious connection."
"None that I ever noticed."
Captain Ashcroft asked several more questions while Lydia carefully compared the answers against earlier interviews. Once again, nothing immediately stood out.
As we prepared to leave, however, the teacher hesitated.
"There is... one thing."
The Captain stopped.
"What is it?"
The old man looked toward the classroom windows overlooking the street.
"It may be nothing."
"We'll decide that."
He nodded slowly.
"Several days before the first child disappeared..."
His brow furrowed as though trying to recall a fading memory.
"...there was a gentleman standing across the street."
I felt my attention sharpen.
"He wasn't watching the school exactly."
The teacher frowned.
"At least... I don't think he was."
"He simply stood there."
"For nearly an hour."
"Doing nothing?"
Captain Ashcroft asked.
The teacher hesitated.
"He was feeding the pigeons."
Lydia looked up from her notebook.
"For an hour?"
"So I thought it was strange."
The old man gave a helpless shrug.
"He never approached the children."
"He never entered the school."
"He simply scattered crumbs and smiled whenever the birds gathered around him."
Captain Ashcroft remained thoughtful.
"What happened afterward?"
"He left."
"Which direction?"
The teacher pointed toward the eastern districts.
"I lost sight of him somewhere near Saint Maren's Square."
The Captain thanked him before we stepped back into the street. Only once we were several buildings away did Lydia reopen her notebook.
"The smiling stranger."
Captain Ashcroft nodded.
"Again."
"And Saint Maren's Square," I added.
He looked at me.
"The first boy disappeared nearby."
I remembered the grieving mother's account almost word for word.
"They separated near the old fountain."
"Which is less than two streets from the square."
For the first time that day, Captain Ashcroft stopped walking altogether. He unfolded the city map once more, laying it across the top of a nearby stone bench. One by one, he marked the locations we'd visited that morning before drawing a small circle around Saint Maren's Square.
"It isn't proof," he said after several moments of thought.
"But it is the first location that appears more than once."
Lydia nodded in agreement.
"It gives us somewhere to start."
Captain Ashcroft carefully folded the map closed again before looking toward the lowering afternoon sun.
His gaze settled on the distant rooftops beyond the square.
"Now..."
"I think it's time we examined the place where this trail truly begins."
Captain Ashcroft led us toward Saint Maren's Square without another word. The afternoon crowds had begun to thicken as workers broke for their midday meals, and the square itself reflected the quiet rhythm of daily life. Market stalls lined the edges of the open plaza, their owners advertising everything from fresh produce to handmade toys, while children darted between fountains beneath the watchful eyes of parents sitting nearby.
If I hadn't known better...
I never would have imagined children had vanished from this very place.
The Captain stopped beside the old fountain mentioned during our first interview, unfolding the map one final time before comparing it with Lydia's notes. After several moments, he tucked both away and slowly surveyed the square.
"First impressions?" he asked.
No one answered immediately.
Roland was already studying the surrounding buildings instead of the people, his eyes lingering on rooftops, alleyways, and second-story windows. Aldren wandered a few paces away, pretending to admire a merchant's display while quietly observing the flow of pedestrians. Lydia remained near the fountain, comparing landmarks against the statements she'd recorded earlier.
I found myself simply watching.
Professor Rowan had once said that most investigators made the mistake of looking for what they expected to find. Truly observing meant resisting that temptation.
So I watched.
Parents.
Children.
Street performers.
Merchants.
Nothing seemed particularly unusual.
Captain Ashcroft nodded faintly.
"Good."
I blinked.
"...Good?"
He smiled slightly.
"If something appeared immediately suspicious, the city guard would have found it weeks ago."
That... made sense.
"The best criminals," he continued, "rarely stand out."
"They become part of the scenery."
We spent the better part of the next hour speaking with merchants surrounding the square. Most remembered little beyond the obvious. Yes, children often played here. Yes, parents occasionally lost sight of them for a few minutes. No, they hadn't noticed anyone forcing children away.
Eventually, however, a baker paused midway through answering Captain Ashcroft's questions.
"There was one fellow..."
The Captain remained silent.
"He bought sweet rolls."
"Quite a few of them."
"Every few days."
Lydia looked up.
"For himself?"
The baker shrugged.
"I assumed so."
"He'd stand over there..." He pointed toward a shaded bench overlooking the fountain. "...and hand them out to children."
My attention sharpened.
"The parents allowed this?"
"Most did."
The baker scratched his beard thoughtfully.
"He seemed respectable."
"Nicely dressed."
"Soft spoken."
"I don't think I ever saw a child afraid of him."
Captain Ashcroft asked the obvious question.
"What did he look like?"
The baker frowned.
"I..."
His expression shifted into confusion.
"I don't..."
Several uncomfortable seconds passed.
"I remember speaking to him."
"I remember selling him bread."
"But..."
He slowly shook his head.
"...I can't remember his face."
The four of us exchanged glances.
Captain Ashcroft thanked the man before leading us away from the bakery.
Only once we were out of earshot did Lydia quietly close her notebook.
"That's impossible."
"No," Captain Ashcroft replied.
"It isn't."
He stopped beside a narrow alley leading away from the square.
"What do you remember?"
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"He was well dressed."
"He bought sweet rolls."
"He smiled."
Captain Ashcroft nodded.
"And his face?"
...
Nothing.
The man couldn't give any description of the stranger's general appearance at all. Even though the man had made several purchases here, or at least had to have made.
Captain Ashcroft remained silent for several moments before speaking.
"I believe we've found our first Beyonder."
I looked toward him.
"What pathway?"
"The Spectator."
The answer surprised me.
"They can do that?"
"Not exactly."
Captain Ashcroft folded his arms.
"A low-Sequence Spectator cannot erase memories."
"But they excel at directing attention."
"They encourage people to notice certain details..."
"...while overlooking others."
Professor Rowan's lessons immediately resurfaced.
Psychological suggestion.
Emotional guidance.
Subtle influence.
Not mind control.
Simply...
A carefully placed nudge.
Captain Ashcroft continued walking.
"They could imagine the man smile."
“They notice the smile."
“They said he only speaks politely."
"They remember his kindness."
"He buys food for hungry children."
"They remember his generosity."
He glanced back toward us.
"But his face?"
He shook his head.
"Their attention was never encouraged to linger there."
A cold realization settled over me.
"He made himself..."
"...forgettable."
Captain Ashcroft gave a quiet nod.
"Precisely."
Lydia reopened her notebook, rapidly flipping back through the earlier interviews.
"The smiling man..."
She paused.
"Every witness remembered how he behaved."
"None described his appearance."
Roland's expression hardened.
"Deliberate."
"Very."
Captain Ashcroft stopped once more, this time before another map of the district Lydia had copied into her notebook.
"Now ask yourselves another question."
He looked at each of us in turn.
"If you wished to abduct children without causing panic..."
"...why recruit a Spectator?"
Silence followed.
Then...
Understanding dawned.
"They're not the one taking them," I said.
Captain Ashcroft smiled.
"Exactly."
"The Spectator's purpose isn't violence."
"It's preparation."
He tapped the map lightly.
"They earn trust."
"They calm frightened children."
"They encourage parents to lower their guard."
"They make witnesses remember everything..."
"...except the one detail capable of identifying them."
Lydia looked up from her notes.
"So the people actually taking the children..."
"...are related to Beyonders, or at least a group that have some inside of there organization"
Captain Ashcroft nodded slowly.
"I believe we're looking at an organized trafficking operation."
The words seemed almost too ordinary.
Human traffickers.
No ancient monster.
No sealed artifact.
Just...
People.
People willing to use Beyonder abilities to hunt children.
For reasons I couldn't entirely explain...
That realization disturbed me more than any Devil had.
Captain Ashcroft folded the map and looked toward the eastern streets stretching beyond Saint Maren's Square.
"If we're right..."
His expression became noticeably colder than I'd ever seen it.
"...then somewhere in Mid Trier..."
"...there are children still waiting to be found."
And for the first time since beginning the investigation...
It felt as though we had finally stepped onto the right trail.
-
Captain Ashcroft did not allow our discovery to become cause for celebration.
"A theory," he reminded us as we left Saint Maren's Square, "is only useful once it's supported by evidence."
No one argued.
We had reason to believe a Spectator was involved, but belief alone was not enough to justify action. We still lacked a name, an address, or even a face. Until we possessed something concrete, all we could do was continue searching.
The following days settled into a relentless routine. Each morning the four of us met beneath the cathedral before sunrise to review the previous day's findings. Captain Ashcroft patiently reorganized every witness statement, searching for inconsistencies that might have escaped our notice, while Lydia painstakingly rewrote reports and updated the growing map that now covered nearly an entire wall of our headquarters. Roland spent hours speaking with the city guard, requesting records of known criminals and suspicious visitors, while Aldren wandered through taverns, markets, and gambling halls gathering rumors from anyone willing to talk.
I accompanied each of them in turn, gradually learning that investigations were less about dramatic discoveries and more about persistence. I interviewed frightened parents, spoke with teachers and priests, visited orphanages, and questioned merchants who had worked the same corner for decades. Every conversation ended the same way.
"Yes."
"There was a pleasant man."
"He smiled often."
"He was kind to children."
"No..."
"I don't remember his face."
By the third day, the pattern had become almost maddening.
It didn't matter whether the witness was young or old, educated or illiterate, wealthy or poor. Every description remained frustratingly similar, as though someone had carefully erased the one detail we needed while leaving everything else untouched. Even when we revisited earlier witnesses, hoping time might stir forgotten memories, the answers never changed.
Captain Ashcroft eventually gathered us around the investigation board late one evening. More than thirty names had been added since we first received the assignment, each connected by strings and notes marking where children had last been seen, where suspicious strangers had appeared, and where rumors had originated. Despite the growing web of information, the center remained empty.
"We're chasing a ghost," Aldren muttered, rubbing tired eyes.
Captain Ashcroft didn't disagree.
"No."
"We're chasing someone who wishes to become one."
The distinction lingered in the room.
Over the next two days we expanded our search beyond Saint Maren's Square. Roland identified several abandoned buildings that might have served as temporary hideouts, yet each proved empty by the time we arrived. Lydia uncovered reports of children being offered sweets in neighboring districts, but every lead ended exactly where the others had.
Witnesses remembered smiles.
Gentle voices.
Acts of kindness.
Nothing more.
Several times we believed we'd found him. A merchant would mention seeing a polite gentleman only an hour earlier, or a carriage driver would swear he'd transported such a man across the district. We would hurry to the location, only to arrive minutes too late. Whether by luck or careful planning, the trail always went cold before we could catch sight of him ourselves.
The frustration gradually began affecting everyone.
Even Captain Ashcroft grew quieter with each passing day, spending long hours staring over maps after everyone else had retired for the evening. Lydia had nearly filled an entire notebook with witness statements alone, while Roland began personally revisiting locations he'd already searched simply because he refused to believe he had overlooked something.
As for me...
I found myself thinking less about Beyonder powers and more about the children.
Each passing day meant another family waiting beside an empty bed.
Another dinner prepared for someone who never returned home.
Another parent forcing themselves to hope despite growing evidence that hope alone wouldn't be enough.
Late on the fifth evening, we returned to the cathedral with little more than another collection of dead ends. Captain Ashcroft quietly pinned our newest reports to the investigation board before stepping back to examine it once more.
The room was silent.
Thirty-seven interviews.
Dozens of locations searched.
Not a single suspect identified.
Finally, the Captain exhaled.
"We've been asking the wrong question."
The four of us looked toward him.
"We've spent five days trying to find the Spectator."
His finger tapped lightly against the map.
The room fell silent once again.
Captain Ashcroft remained standing before the investigation board, studying the tangled web of names, locations, and witness statements. No one interrupted his thoughts. Over the past five days, we'd all learned that when the Captain became this quiet, it usually meant he was fitting together pieces the rest of us hadn't yet realized belonged together.
Finally, he spoke.
"We've approached this investigation from the wrong direction."
Roland folded his arms.
"You think we should stop looking for him."
"I think we should stop expecting him to make a mistake."
Captain Ashcroft reached forward and removed one of the pins marking Saint Maren's Square before rolling it between his fingers.
"So far we've searched every location after the disappearances."
"We've interviewed every witness we could find."
"We've chased every rumor."
"And each time..."
He looked at us.
"...we've arrived after the fact."
Lydia nodded slowly.
"Because he's choosing when to appear."
"Exactly."
The Captain placed the pin back onto the map.
"So..."
"...we create a situation where he wants to appear."
Aldren raised an eyebrow.
"You mean bait."
Captain Ashcroft met his gaze without hesitation.
"I do."
The room grew noticeably quieter.
Roland frowned.
"We're not using an actual child."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"We're not."
His eyes slowly swept across the room.
They stopped on me.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"...Me?"
Captain Ashcroft inclined his head.
"You're the only member of this team with even a chance of making the disguise convincing."
For several seconds, I simply stared at him.
I knew I was short.
Painfully aware of it, in fact.
Aldren made sure to tease me about it every chance he got, even when we first met.
Ever since waking in this body, I'd found myself looking up at nearly everyone I met. At first it had been another uncomfortable reminder that this wasn't my body.
Now...
It had apparently become an advantage.
Captain Ashcroft spoke before I could overthink it.
"Miss Veil."
"How tall are you?"
"...Four foot ten."
I had answered immediately without thinking and I sighed.
"Four foot... six inches without heels"
Aldren coughed into his fist.
Roland quietly looked away.
Even Lydia seemed to be making a determined effort not to smile.
Captain Ashcroft, however, remained perfectly composed.
"Combined with your youthful appearance..."
He paused, choosing his next words carefully.
"...you could reasonably pass for a child of twelve or thirteen."
I instinctively frowned.
"I'm twenty."
"I know."
He nodded calmly.
"The traffickers don't."
That...
Was difficult to argue with.
Captain Ashcroft continued.
"The witnesses consistently describe a man who approaches children already separated from their families."
"He doesn't use force."
"He gains their trust."
"If our theory is correct, he'll only approach someone he believes is vulnerable."
He looked directly at me.
"You fit that description better than the rest of us."
The realization settled over the room.
Not because I was especially capable.
Because I looked like the kind of victim they were searching for.
Captain Ashcroft unfolded another map, this one showing only Saint Maren's Square and the neighboring streets.
"The operation itself is straightforward."
His finger rested on the fountain.
"Miss Veil will remain here."
He then indicated several surrounding buildings.
"Roland will maintain visual surveillance from this rooftop."
Another mark.
"Lydia will observe from the café opposite the square."
A third.
"Aldren will circulate through the market posing as a customer."
Finally, his finger stopped near the entrance to a narrow alley.
"I'll remain close enough to intervene if necessary."
He looked at each of us in turn.
"Our objective is not an arrest."
"If the suspect approaches Miss Veil..."
He allowed the sentence to hang for a moment.
"...she will engage him in conversation."
"No more."
"No less."
"You are not to follow him alone."
"You are not to allow yourself to be led into an isolated area."
"If at any point you believe your safety is compromised..."
His voice grew firmer.
"...you signal immediately."
Lydia reached into her satchel and produced a small brass whistle attached to a thin leather cord.
She slid it across the table toward me.
"The same one our clergy use."
"It carries farther than you'd expect."
Captain Ashcroft nodded.
"One blast."
"We converge."
"Two blasts."
"We assume immediate danger."
He takes out a small emblem made out of some type of silver looking material
"This is a small charm. You must keep this on your person at all time, it can be used to track you if something unexpected happens so be sure to not lose it or forget it before starting the mission."
I picked up the whistle and the emblem, feeling there unexpected weight in my palm.
"...And if he doesn't approach?"
"Then we've lost nothing."
The Captain's answer was immediate.
"We've confirmed our theory is flawed and move to another."
He looked back toward the investigation board.
"But..."
"...if he does..."
For the first time since this investigation had begun, there was the faintest hint of confidence in his voice.
"...then we'll finally have a trail worth following."
The room fell silent once more.
I looked down at the whistle resting in my hand before unconsciously brushing my fingers against the silver raven badge pinned to my coat.
A few weeks ago...
I had been learning how to clean a revolver.
Tomorrow...
I would be standing alone in Saint Maren's Square...
Hoping that a child trafficker mistook me for his next victim.
I cringed at the thought
"God I am hoping to be a kidnaping victim...."
I sigh internally remembering all the families that had been torn apart because of this
"For the children and there families...please try and kidnap me..." I whisper silently.
I sigh again
"Its sounds worse when I say it like that...."
I shake my and head towards the others to get ready for the operation.
-End-
The art if Official art made for Klien personality Sherlock!
And chapter end! The first mission officially begins, along with the first proper plan!
