The Manehattan Anomaly

The six of us braced as the wagon began to climb uphill. We were getting close to the scene. The other officers started double-checking their gear and I, too, did the same.

Laminate body-armor and helmets, and mobile wallplates. Shoulder- and leg-mounted cast-rifles. Radio transceivers. We’d all been trained on their use, drilled in urban combat and raid scenarios, and, as far as I knew, we were up against little more than a depressed working pony with a pea-shooter. But…

The Heights was usually the safest part of the north end of Manehattan. Ours was probably the first armored wagon to be seen up here in decades. I wondered, was a grenadier incident here, in that building, just random violence? Or was it something more?

“Jeez,” Rookie groaned, breaking the grim silence, “You’d think we were worried or something.”

The remark earned him a slap from Bullet and some chuckles from everyone else. When the wagon stopped, and the operator pounded on the cabin wall three times, we opened the doors and filed out in orderly fashion. I gave each of my officers a pat on the shoulder as they passed, and I exited last.

We were approaching the scene, a 6-storey condominium tower on Springleaf Avenue. Not mine, but I knew ponies who lived here. There was already a cluster of officers and first responders from different divisions: earth pony police officers from the Manehattan Police Department; pegasi paramedics from the Redheart Hospital; unicorn specialists from the Royal Military Engineers. With the six of us, that made a crowd of roughly thirty ponies. A lieutenant from the north-end precinct beckoned us over, under the front roof of the building, to a folding table with a small map laid over it. I noticed as we approached that it was a floorplan; the lieutenant was marking it with a red pen.

First, he told us the radio frequency we’d be using for the mission, which we dialed into our transceivers. Then he gave us a recap on the available intel and the state of things at the scene.

It was a more detailed version of what we’d heard on the way over: A suspected lone grenadier was holed up in one of the units on the third floor. There had been at least one confirmed gunshot, though resident reports were conflicted on how many, where, and when. There was also an unidentified female hostage or victim, who had been the first to contact us, and she mentioned a room three-oh-five or three-oh-nine before her call ended. Based on the floor plan, that would mean our search was focused on the southern side of the third floor.

But nothing was ruled out yet. The actual situation was ours to learn. And in spite of my training, my discipline, the pride I held for my level head, I let my mind wander, and thought of my daughter.

It seemed like I had spoken with her only moments ago. On the phone, she told me she was going to look after Daffodil’s kids for the day, and suggested I visit them when I was done with my shift. I was looking forward to it, and it seemed I couldn’t get there soon enough.

Now that I was here, I wished I was anywhere but.

Crimson must have noticed something was off, and subtly nudged me - gave me a knowing, reassuring look. He was my second-in-command, and my closest friend in the unit. He didn’t know, exactly, but he knew enough. And we both knew that I couldn’t let this affect the rest of the team. Whatever the state of things, there were dozens of other ponies in this building depending on us.

I took a deep breath, refocused, and thought as a leader would. Besides, Sunny Dew was a smart filly - I really had no reason to worry.

The scene outside of the building was roughly under control. Officers were posted out here, in front of the building, as well as at the freight entrance and on the roof, to make sure nopony could enter or leave without being noticed.

The lieutenant was convinced only one gunshot had been fired, but was still concerned further violence had taken place. That made it too risky to send in standard officers, who may not have been trained in close-quarters combat, and, since the perpetrator had not attempted to communicate with us or other officials, this could not be considered a typical hostage scenario.

That was why we were here.

The lieutenant would supervise our operations and coordinate support, but he deferred tactical command to me. I considered the available resources. My own team was a known quantity: Myself, Crimson, Bullet, Snipe, Quiet, and Rookie. The regular officers and paramedics would be useful to follow our team and move in to help any involved civilians, or arrest any suspects, but that was standard operations. I had hoped for some teleportation abilities in the Engineers, but we weren’t so lucky.

However, somepony did catch my attention: the unicorn Fine Fettle, better known as Bedrock, conferring with the lieutenant. That changed things considerably.

“Looks like you’re out of a job,” I said to Snipe. A half-joke.

She just shrugged, and replied, “We’ll see.”

It didn’t take long to agree on a rough plan, and put it into action. My squad and most of the other divisions entered the tower’s lobby, and we double-checked that it was still clear. Meanwhile, Bedrock, the lieutenant, and a couple of other officers stayed at the command post, while the pegasi on the roof flew up to a safe distance.

Everypony sounded off over the radio, and the lieutenant gave the go-ahead, so I gave the command: “Seal it.”

There was a deep whump, followed by the noise of dozens of windows rattling in their frames. Some of us flinched from the abrupt change in air pressure; so did others because of the visual change. The light entering from outside dimmed, lost its heat. Through the vestibule windows, I could see a thick line extending across the brick walkway outside, a few steps away from the wall, and, though some potted flowers were bright and vivid within it, there was not a trace of colour beyond it.

This was Bedrock’s special ability. The term of art for it was ‘inviolable’. Not a thing would be entering or leaving the building while it was in place. It gave us a time limit, because we would eventually run out of air within the barrier, but Crimson had done the math and assured us that wasn’t a pressing concern. Two hours, more or less.

“CAT team, report all good?” the lieutenant’s voice asked. More static than I’d have hoped, but it was understandable.

“All good, sir,” I responded. “Proceeding with floor one. Over.”

I gestured for my team to spread out, and we made our way around the building in a counter-clockwise sweep. Bullet and Rookie were the first to move. Bullet’s flight pattern was hard to follow by eye, but Rookie kept a decent clip behind her, and they stopped at the first corner. Crimson moved with me, his horn glowing, checking the rooms as we passed them. Snipe and Quiet followed us, keeping eyes ahead and behind.

“Occupied,” Crimson noted, as we passed unit 104, and then again at 102. I relayed it, and a pair of officers moved to the doors. They would make contact with the occupants, gather information, and assure them of their safety. Hopefully, nopony would be moving around at an unfortunate time.

The first floor cleared, we moved into the central stairwell. My squad exited at the second floor to repeat our clearing maneuver, while the remaining dozen or so officers would position themselves at various floor levels to guard all entrances to the stairwell. With the building sealed, it was our only way up and down.

Midway through a round of the second floor, in front of unit 205, Crimson stopped walking, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Problem?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “Not sure. Just getting a feeling from up there.”

“Three-oh-five?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d guess. Hard to say from here though.”

I nodded, and we walked on, continuing to clear the floor. Crimson was a scryer, by education, but his specialty was life-sensing - an invaluable skill in our line of work. Beyond that, I trusted his judgement. We would be careful around 305.

But 302 concerned me more. When we reached it, on our sweep of the third floor, I asked Crimson and Quiet over. Quiet told me there were no weapons, and moved on to check the rest of the north wing. Crimson remained for a moment, put a hoof on my shoulder, and said, “They’re not here.”

“I know,” I said. But I wasn’t sure why I said that. I didn’t know.

Quiet looked between us, furrowing his brow, but thankfully did not raise whatever question was on his mind.

“Could they have left before it happened?” Crimson asked, or suggested.

I nodded. It was a possibility. Sunny Dew was independent, knew the area, and had the trust of Daffodil. She could have taken the kids somewhere. Hell, they might right now be on their way back, getting stopped at the building perimeter - confused, but safe.

It was a nice thought. “We should move on,” I said -

• at the same moment that Bullet whistled, clear but quiet, and gestured down to the south wing. “Found something.”

I reluctantly turned away from the door and trotted down the hall, Crimson and Quiet at my sides, following Bullet’s direction.

Around the corner, she pointed her hoof to the carpet floor in front of unit 307, and traced an invisible path down the hall and through the door marked 305. I squinted, and noticed a faint dark trail along this path, marked by the occasional distinct drop. Then the smell of the air made it clear, just as Bullet whispered, “Blood.”

“Shit,” Rookie added. He received some glares, and shut his mouth.

I spoke the obvious question, “Does it come from three-oh-seven?”

Bullet answered, “Don’t know. Will have to approach.”

Crimson, his horn and eyes glowing, mumbled, “Three-oh-seven is empty, er, unoccupied. Three-oh-five…” He snapped out of it, and grimaced, rubbing his forehead. “Something’s wrong in there.”

We all turned to him. “What do you mean wrong?”

He looked nervous, and had difficulty finding his words. “It… I don’t know. It’s just wrong.”

We took a moment to process this. It was concerning that Crimson couldn’t give us details, and suggested some strange magic at work. All the same, there was this clarifying relief that flowed over me, even before I fully understood the reasoning: a trail of blood meant a brutal murder, or a ritual sacrifice; strange magic meant a cult, or a demon, or an experiment gone wrong. Nothing my Sunny Dew would have been involved in. A knot in my heart came untied, and I breathed a quiet sigh.

I opened the radio channel to the lieutenant. “CAT to control, we’ve located some points of interest. Units three-oh-five and three-oh-seven. How copy?”

There was a slight delay before the lieutenant replied, “I copy. Three-zero-five, three-zero-seven. Points of interest. Over.” He spoke as if he had something in his mouth - I recalled that he held a marker in his teeth when he was highlighting entry points on the floorplan for us.

“Solid,” I responded. “We think unit three-oh-five is danger. Possible magic.” I looked at Crimson, who nodded in agreement.

From behind me, Quiet added, “Unknown magic.”

“Unknown magic, sir,” I clarified. “I think quarantine will be advisable, over.”

There was a very long delay.

“Say again, CAT? Unknown magic?”

“Unknown magic,” I repeated. “Over.”

“Copy that,” the lieutenant replied. Then there was some inaudible chatter - he had neglected to close the channel as he discussed things with whoever else was down there with him. Finally he came back on, and said, “Quarantine on three-zero-five is a go, CAT team. Clear the other point of interest as you see fit, and confirm when in position. Over.”

I turned the words over in my head, making sure they were committed to memory, before I said, “Copy that, over,” and closed the channel. I then turned to the rest of my team - they had been listening, but they waited for my word.

I spoke as I walked towards the unit, and the others followed. “We’re clearing three-oh-seven. It’s unoccupied. Weapons?”

“Lots, actually.” Quiet said. “Feels like… brass and wood, gunpowder, engravings.”

“Relics,” Snipe concluded.

“Not necessarily,” the unicorn objected quietly, “but… more or less, yes. Nothing modern.”

“Traps?” I asked.

“None.”

Then there was no need for a breaching operation. I set Rookie to picking the lock. Quiet could have done it faster, and the door barely existed as far as Snipe was concerned, but it was good to give the colt something to do beyond just scouting - he needed the experience, he’d get bored otherwise, and he talked more when he was bored.

Inside, the apartment was full of stuff. Newspapers packed nearly to the ceiling in one corner, next to a glass cabinet overflowing with porcelain figures, encroached upon by various cloths hung over the head of a chair. With spaces carved out in the kitchen and dining area, it came across as only half-lived-in, in the way so many hoarders’ homes were, though this would be a mild example. Fine line between hoard and collection, I supposed - I was just worried about hidden dangers.

Bullet and Rookie navigated along the ceiling, around corners and the tops of doorways, while Crimson and I followed the trail, which led to the bedroom. Crimson was distracted, still staring towards the left side of the unit - towards 305. I told him to stay focused, and he regained some composure.

Inside the bedroom, the trail ended in a dark pool of blood behind an unkempt bed. Near the pool was a clump of brain matter, fragments of bone, and large, patterned feathers. There was a conspicuous hole in the wall, above the headboard, and above that were two empty hooks, holding empty space. Bloody hoofprints tracked all over the floor.

Crimson and I stopped at the threshold, taking it all in. A griffon had been killed here, and its body had been dragged to the next unit. To what end? Why leave such an obvious trail?

“I don’t like this,” Crimson said, quietly.

“Yeah,” I agreed. Then I turned, heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

We arranged ourselves in front of 305. Snipe took point, keeping one of her wall-plates pressed against the door. Quiet and I were behind her, and Crimson behind us, with Bullet and Rookie at our flanks, as usual.

I spoke into the radio, “Stand by for quarantine on three-oh-five.”

The lieutenant’s voice crackled, “Standing by, over.”

I ordered the team to sound off. Every pony replied with a quiet ‘green’ or ‘ready’, except for Crimson. I looked back at him, and he looked past me. It was dangerous to express indecision at this stage. We were going in, and I needed him on-task.

He seemed to understand my frustration, at least, and spoke before me: “I’m committed. I’m ready.”

I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Good.” I turned to my transceiver and told the lieutenant, “CAT team is ready. Seal it in ten seconds.” Then I said, “Breach in five,” to the team.

A click from the radio was the lieutenant’s acknowledgement.

“Four.”

Everypony tensed.

“Three.”

Quiet’s horn glowed. Snipe pushed her wall-plate away, allowing it to tumble down the hall, and faced away from the door.

“Two.”

The chroma around Quiet burst, thickening the air.

I lifted a hoof, and said, “One,” but there was only dead silence.

Snipe lifted her back legs and kicked. Her hooves impacted the metal door on one side, directly over the lock housing, and on the other side, where the hinge would connect on the interior. The door buckled and flew inward. Parts of the surrounding wall blasted out at various angles as the hinge and deadbolt were ripped free, and debris riddled the interior of the unit. None of it made the slightest sound.

Bullet and Rookie were already inside. Snipe took a moment to recover before turning and bounding inside, and Quiet, Crimson and I followed close behind.

I was extremely aware of the threshold between the hallway and the unit’s interior. If I stopped there, I’d be cut in half.

The first thing I noticed inside was that the interior of this unit was already a disaster - walls and floorboards torn up; insulation, debris, and garbage littered the area; cupboards raided and dumped out.

The second thing I noticed was that the blood trail we were following continued through the central room and under the bedroom door. I couldn’t make note of it, as we were still affected by the sound-dampening spell, but that wouldn’t last long. Still, I was proud of our cohesiveness as a unit. We had naturally spread out to cover all corners and blind spots in the limited time we had, and flashlights had painted every surface, giving me a good mental picture of the room. Only a few heartbeats had passed since we entered.

I made a final head count, just to be entirely sure that everypony was through the door, and it seemed we were safe to proceed. I took my hoof off the radio toggle and exhaled deeply.

Soon, ten seconds had passed. This time it was not a whump, but a crack, like the report of a cannon, and the room was plunged into darkness. Through the windows and the open doorway behind us was a colourless wall of black that seemed to soak up any light shone onto it. This was Bedrock’s second barrier, sealing the unit. At this level of separation from the wider world not even light or radio waves could penetrate. Until it dropped, we were on our own.

“Two minutes,” I hissed, to remind everypony, and to test if I could make sound again. The twitching of ears around the room gave me my answer. “See the trail?”

“Here,” Bullet whispered, already following it to the bedroom. Once the rest of the squad reported all-clear, we assembled again on the door.

Rookie twitched and held his nose, whispering, “Smells like shit…”

“Shit and blood,” Snipe replied, sounding like she was smiling. “That’s death for you.”

I looked to Crimson to ask if he could see any more of what was going on in there, but his horn and eyes were glowing again, so I waited a moment while he finished. When he returned to normal, he seemed shaken, and said simply, “One.”

“What?”

He blinked a few times, and shook his head. “There’s one pony alive in there.”

“And the griffin?”

“It’s - I don’t know. The bodies are hard to distinguish.”

I stammered, “Hold on, that doesn’t-” but I stopped when I realized we didn’t have enough time to turn this into a discussion or an argument. I resolved to ask, “How many bodies?”

Crimson thought for a few moments on that. “More than five.”

Rookie muttered, “Oh, Celestia…” and, this time, we agreed with him.

“We’re going in,” I told everypony, hoping to get us all focused again. “Eliminate threats. Clear the unit. Detain the suspect. Leave worrying about the bodies to the detectives.”

With nods and affirmatives all around, we assembled to breach the bedroom door. Snipe knocked the door in, again, though as it was a hollow-core interior door she only needed one leg, placed under the doorknob. It swung open with a bang, and we headed in much the same way.

I called out, “Police! Nopony move!” the instant I was through, before I knew what we were going into. I hoped I’d have time to identify the suspect and issue a more specific command before things got difficult. However, the situation in the bedroom was clarifying as we covered it in light.

The room was, overall, destroyed. The walls, floor, and ceiling had been torn up in many places. A rope or a set of cables hung from an exposed joist in the far corner, and beneath it, behind the relatively undisturbed bed, was an amorphous, multi-coloured pile, buzzing with insects.

I blinked. Those were the bodies.

It was much easier to say we should ignore them than it was to actually ignore them.

“Stay sharp,” I told my team, and tried to apply the advice myself by considering the situation. We knew somepony was alive in here, but the lack of movement or response to our entry made them difficult to locate. I wanted to avoid a close-quarters fight, if possible, but if there was one, I intended to be prepared. “Quiet, Snipe, on me,” I called out. “Crimson, give us a location. Fliers spread out.”

Some ‘aye’s followed, and my orders were carried out - or were being carried out, as Bullet and Rookie didn’t need to be told to get up to the ceiling and get a better view of things. Crimson, meanwhile, pointed us towards the far corner, amongst the bodies. “She’s right there,” he said, “pretending to be unconscious.”

Now that was the work I expected from Crimson. As we went round the bed, I repeated my callout, “Stay where you are! Don’t move! This is the police. You don’t have to make this any-”

A burst of colour, illuminated by my flashlight, interrupted me. As I focused on it, somepony else pointed their own flashlight at it for a moment, and it became almost blinding in the dark room. The burst resolved to a pony - a filly - with a yellow-orange coat and a yellow mane. She was separated from the main group of bodies, laying chin-down on the floor with her hooves crossed over her head.

A noise escaped me as I ran over and sat down at her side. I brushed a hoof down her mane, from the top of her head to where it flowed over her shoulder. Her ponytail had come loose, was matted and sticky; her whole coat was a mess. I would have to give her a bath later.

“Shhh,” I whispered to her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Sergeant, who is that?” somepony in the distance asked.

I nuzzled into her, muttering, “Sunny. You’re okay. You can come with us. You’re safe now.”

“Sergeant…”

“My Sunshine, please…”

“Sergeant!” Crimson screamed into my ears, making me jump. “I-I’m sorry, it’s not her!”

I looked at him. There were tears in his eyes, and he and the rest of the team looked at me with a mix of horror and confusion.

They were missing something, here. I gently shook my daughter to rouse her, and demanded of them, “What do you mean it’s not her? She’s-”

Sunny Dew’s hooves fell limply away from her head as I moved her, and I saw one eye: wide open, bloodshot, dark. The spark had gone out of her. I turned her over a little more and saw a ragged cut across her neck, one under her shoulder, more and more on her chest and barrel, tearing her undercoat up into ribbons. The other eye was deflated, cut open and leaking. Dark blood covered her mouth and nose, ran down her neck, and pooled on the floor under her. I was sitting in it. It was still warm.

I felt sick. My daughter needed help.

I looked up. Crimson, Quiet, and Snipe were around me. I couldn’t tell where Bullet was, but Rookie had landed on top of a wardrobe. Every one of them was watching in the eerie silence. I wanted to say something to them, to scream at them, but I couldn’t.

Then there was a rustling noise nearby. A shape rose from the floor amidst the bodies. There was feathers, fur, and metal. The griffon’s body slumped over, and a pony remained, a living pony, pointing something at me. A wave of terror passed through my skull when I realized it was a rifle, and I lifted my hooves to shield my face.

Snipe jumped in front of me, unfolding another wall-plate, but the rifle turned. I looked where it pointed. Crimson. I was tackled to the floor, losing sight of him, then-

Bang.

Chaos erupted: “Agh!” “Put the gun down!” “Hold fire!” “What was that?” “I’m hit!” “Put the gun down! Now!” “Who’s hit?” “Sergeant!” “What do we do?” “Guns down!” “What?”

“Quiet!” I shouted into the din, not making much difference. Snipe was on top of me, and the lights were all over the place - I couldn’t see what was happening. “Be quiet, damn you! And get off of me. Everypony listen to me!”

That seemed to calm them down. Snipe stood, and I pushed her away, standing to get a view of the scene.

Quiet stood closest to where the suspect had emerged, and his horn was glowing. A magical shield pressed a cream-coloured mare flat against the floor. Bullet stood next to him, gun at the ready.

“Sir,” Quiet said, “She’s restrained. And her gun is antique, single-shot. There’s no need for this.” He shot Bullet and Snipe a look. Bullet stood her ground, while Snipe seemed to snarl in response, around the trigger-bit.

“She shot Crimson,” Bullet said, calmly, and gestured to my side. I looked over and saw Crimson on the ground, with Rookie peeling away his chestplate.

“Fuck,” I breathed. My breath shook. My whole body shook. “He okay?”

Crimson coughed as he looked to me, pushing Rookie aside. “Yeah. Laminate caught it. Broke ribs for sure, but I’ll live. Aah…” He leaned back down with a grimace. “I’m sorry, about…” He trailed off, giving a pained look.

That was good. I reminded myself that that was good, that none of my team was dead, that we’d caught the pony responsible for all this. But I wondered what would happen now. We would do our jobs, take a killer to jail, and go home, and then, what? What then? What would I tell my wife, my daughter?

I looked down at the lifeless body. It was misshapen, bending in wrong ways as I held it, and when it fell out of my hooves, it hit the floor like a wet sack of flour. This was not my daughter. My daughter did not exist anymore.

Around the room, these filthy corpses, these cops, it was all hollow now. I felt my lips and the frogs of my hooves tingling. A nausea came over me, then faded.

I didn’t breathe. I didn’t need to. I was hardly in this room anymore, hardly in this city. I didn’t feel anything.

Except…

I looked at the captured pony, under Quiet’s spell. A friend of the family, a mare I had trusted, a carer of Sunny Dew on occasion. The killer of my daughter. Daffodil.

The gun on my shoulder crackled to life as I took the trigger-bit in my mouth. “Hey, wait-” somepony shouted, but I was already biting.

I’d studied and practiced with this weapon; the process was clear to me. A bolt of magical energy materialized at the muzzle of the cast-rifle, coinciding with a chemical explosion at the breech, and a small, vitreous slug flew down the barrel, directing the bolt towards its target. Quiet’s shield would have stopped the slug alone. It shattered instead, and the residual energy threw Daffodil across the room. She hit the far wall, and sprawled upside down against it.

“Sir, what the fuck!?” Rookie shouted. “She was already captured!”

“Shut up,” I said, calmly, and began marching towards Daffodil. “Just shut up. I trusted you. Do you understand?”

“Sergeant, you’re not making sense,” Quiet said as I passed him.

Crimson struggled to speak, but I heard him say, “I’ve never heard him scream like that.”

Scream?

“But I didn’t…”

I looked back at them. They were all staring at me. I had to turn away, focus on the one thing that mattered, that made sense, but Daffodil also stared at me in a way that confused me. She was wheezing, covered in blood, appeared stuck in this unnatural position, but her expression was perfectly neutral. Almost content.

“Why did you kill them,” I said. It didn’t quite come out as a question.

She didn’t react at all.

I repeated, desperate for an answer, “Why did you kill them, Daffodil?”

Another moment passed with no response. She just stared up at me. She hadn’t even blinked.

Quiet suggested behind me, “Sergeant, we should just wait until the barrier lifts.”

I reared up and slammed my front hooves into the floor right in front of her face, and demanded, “Why, damn you!? Why her!?”

She just smiled, at first - I had half a mind to kick her teeth in - but then she moved a foreleg away from the wall and let it slump onto the floor, pointing away from her. “Look there,” she whispered. “Your answer.”

It pained me, but I looked. She pointed towards the pile of bodies by the wall, but in front of it was a hole in the floorboards emanating a faint, flickering light. It was nothing compared to the light of our flashlights, but noticeable in the pitch black. “What is that, a flame?” I asked absently.

Daffodil said nothing.

Rookie wondered, “Did you say flame? There’s a fire in here?”

Snipe quickly said, “Not a problem. Time’s almost up.”

“Agreed,” Quiet said.

“Why should I care?” I asked her. “Why shouldn’t I just-”

Something about Daffodil’s face interrupted me. She was looking through me. Her breathing was ragged. Blood trickled down her neck to her chin.

No point.

I left Daffodil to Quiet, and approached the hole. None of the others could see it from where they were standing, except for Quiet, and he was focusing on Daffodil. I trusted he would restrain her again if she started moving, and I moved closer, hoping to aim my light down the hole to see what was in there.

That wasn’t necessary: something climbed out of the hole before I could get a good look into it. It seemed at first like a length of barbed wire knotted at one end, but then the knot loosened, unfolded, and began to emit its own red light, brightening even against the glare of my flashlight.

It was then that I realized it wasn’t a knot, but a bulb, which had bloomed into a glowing flower.

Then something changed.

I saw myself, and the room, through a new set of eyes. There were threats all around me, but, at the same time, opportunities.

I looked at Quiet, observing part of me. He would be easy to convince. All he needed was a glance in the right direction, and then - opportunity. I looked at Bullet and Snipe. They were a risk, but their guards were down. The same for Rookie.

But Crimson… I’d failed to eliminate him, so he remained the biggest threat of them all. I called to mind all that I knew of him, now: his abilities, his experience, his weaknesses. I could leverage all of this against him. But he was already suspicious of me. The outcome was far from certain.

The barrier would lift in a matter of moments. The continuation of my existence would have to be ensured in the intervening time.

And after that…

There was so much work to do.