The sound of a man talking over the phone could be heard coming from a military grade operation room.

"...More Angel of Death sightings have been reported." Maxwell kept his voice level. "I'm calling to verify your whereabouts."

"Well, see, here's the thing—I'm actually out of town right now." The voice crackled through the speaker with a casual edge that didn't quite fit. "Couldn't have been me. You want proof? Call up Miriam Dealer. She'll back me up."

Maxwell caught the operator's eye. The man nodded. Maxwell nodded back.

"Is there anything else you need from me, or...?"

Maxwell leaned toward the phone. "That's all for now. I'll be in touch." His voice dropped, sharpened. "And don't even think about ignoring my calls—unless you'd prefer a subpoena and having the actual police track you down instead of me."

The threat hung in the air, crystal clear.

"Alright then! Love you! Bah-bye!"

The line went dead.

Maxwell stared at the phone. Vera and the operator stared at Maxwell.

Vera edged closer, cautious. "Not how I pictured him sounding. Honestly."

Maxwell set the phone down with deliberate care. "That wasn't him." He moved past her toward the operator.

Vera's eyes went wide. "Then it must have been—"

"One of them. Yes." Maxwell stopped behind the operator, watching the screen over his shoulder. "Most likely the one called Red."

Something flickered behind Vera's hollow expression. Wonder, maybe. Or fear wearing wonder's face. "Hearing about them is one thing. Actually talking to one..." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "It's like speaking to something not quite human."

"Be that as it may." Maxwell's tone hardened to steel. "Those 'things' are behind inexplicable murders. And in this nation, on my watch, nobody gets away with murder." He leaned beside the operator. "What have you got?"

The operator's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Just a few more moments, sir. The satellites are cross-referencing for maximum accuracy."

Vera peered over Maxwell's shoulder, then straightened when he did. Professional habit, maybe. Or just nerves.

"Done!" The operator pointed at a glowing marker on the digital map. "Location marked, sir."

Maxwell stepped aside, gesturing Vera forward. "Your turn, Detective. What do you make of it?"

She moved to the screen, eyes scanning everything around the marker—not the location itself. "This is an approximation. The actual call location could be anywhere in this radius." Her thumbnail found her teeth. "And they're probably moving anyway."

"Heading where, exactly?" Maxwell prompted.

Her finger traced the map. "Here. MountShade." She tapped a smaller marker.

"What makes you think that? Why there, specifically?"

"Three options." Vera's detective brain kicked into gear despite her anxiety. "Destination, stop, or they're just passing by. It's the nearest civilization to them, after all." She craned her neck to look up at him—the height difference obvious. "Probability that MountShade matters to us? Relatively high."

"And if it's not their destination?"

She turned back to the screen. Her thumb went back between her teeth. Thinking. "Then... they're heading... north."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed. "Why north? Could be any direction."

She shook her head, certainty creeping into her voice. "Consider their origin. Novaria, right?"

Maxwell nodded, following her logic.

She traced her finger from Novaria in the south to MountShade. "If they had business anywhere but north, they'd already be there." Simple. Elegant. Her finger traced a path upward from MountShade. "So if MountShade isn't the destination, they're going further north."

Maxwell turned. "Then we have our heading."

The absolute certainty in his voice made hers crumble. "W-Wait!" She hurried after him. "You're sure? Maybe we should double-check this. Just because of my deduction doesn't mean—"

He spun fast enough that she stumbled into him. He steadied her, then stepped back. "Listen, Holt." His frown softened just slightly. "We don't have another lead. Your deduction is the best option we have." He held her gaze. "Have some confidence. You're doing excellent work."

"Al-Alright." Her voice cracked, came out higher than she meant.

Maxwell nodded, then turned again like a man who knew exactly what came next.

Vera didn't. "Wait! How do we even get there?"

He stopped. Turned slowly. "Still have favors to call in. Old army contacts." His eyes went distant for a moment. "Already made arrangements. I'll get us a Flying Scorpion." He paused. "Probably an older model, though."

He looked back at her. "Pack your things. I'll call tomorrow with the meeting location. Kirren and Sienna will already be there." He nodded to the operator. "You have my thanks. Good day."

He pulled on his coat and left.

Vera stood frozen, processing. Then reality caught up.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"But scorpions don't fly!" Her desperate shout echoed in the empty room.

Morning broke over MountShade with perfect flying weather—not too clear, not too cloudy. A small private plane sliced through the lower clouds, everything below reduced to dots. None of the passengers could see the strange camp far beneath them, or the man sitting on a log, or his friend who happened to glance up at the passing aircraft.

Inside the plane, Ivan sprawled in one of the fancy seats, surrounded by research papers and snack wrappers. He muttered to himself while reading, occasionally blurting out "Ohhh!" or "Wow!" like someone watching an exciting movie.

Milo sat by the window. Ritto occupied the seat directly beside her—close enough that his metal limbs kept bumping her flesh ones. Clay sat across from them. The plane had plenty of empty seats, but apparently the biodroids preferred invading personal spaces today. Milo seemed more annoyed by Ivan's constant commentary than the metal elbowing her ribs. Every "Ohhh!" made her eyes narrow.

Clay suddenly straightened. "I must express my admiration, Miss Milo!"

Her eyes drifted toward him. "Mm?"

"I'll admit I harbored doubts about recruiting Ivan initially." Clay's enthusiasm built with each word.

"Hey!" Ivan called from his seat, looking up from his papers.

"But in retrospect, the choice is brilliant! A chess master AND degrees in theoretical physics! Perfect qualifications for analyzing someone like Angelo!"

Ritto's normal eye closed as he nodded. "Mm. Two's right."

Milo blinked. That was the longest sentence she'd heard from Ritto.

"You're giving me too much credit." Milo waved dismissively. "At least he can make sense of that components of pure bullshit the old man dumped on me."

Clay shook his head firmly. "Credit where it's due, Miss Milo."

Milo sighed. "Look. I didn't know about the physics degrees, alright? He was the only genius I could realistically recruit."

Clay's jaw trembled. "Then his qualifications were—"

Milo shrugged. "Happy accident."

"I cannot believe this." Clay breathed.

"Mm." Ritto rumbled. What he meant was anyone's guess.

The pilot emerged from the cockpit. "Alright folks, course locked for SolThanor. Should be there in a few hours."

"Appreciated, Wave." Clay nodded as the pilot found a seat.

"All for the cause, my man." Wave settled in, then squinted at Clay. "You are a human, right?"

Clay nodded, gesturing at himself. "Indeed. While artificial in origin, we remain fundamentally human. Our creator developed artificial wombs and meticulously reconstructed DNA from his own genetic material to produce perfect human specimens—"

"Ah, so that's why you're all gingers." Milo clapped once. "Mystery solved."

"That's hardly the relevant detail—"

"Don't care. Moving on."

"You've never even met Dr. T!" Clay protested.

Milo shook her head. "Ever heard of deduction? I'm an investigator. Helloooo, It's literally my job."

Wave snorted. "You're a funny bunch. No doubt about that."

"And what about you? What's your story?" Ivan approached the group, papers tucked under his arm.

"Me?" Wave leaned back. "Wife got saved by one of the actually decent Enlightened folks."

Ivan looked confused. "But then..." He gestured at everyone present, the implications unclear.

"Hold on. Not done yet." Wave raised a hand. His features darkened, old memories surfacing like corpses from deep water. "Then the others came. Because of their damned Reset Clause!" The last words came out as a growl, visible anger building.

"They killed the member who saved her and his wife," Milo translated, catching Ivan's confused expression.

"I wish that's all they did!" Wave's aggression ramped up enough that even Milo and Clay raised eyebrows. "The ES member who saved my wife? He wasn't going down without a fight. To protect my wife he..." His fists clenched. "They ended up leveling half the town! 'Casualties,' they said! 'Minimizing collateral damage,' they said!"

He breathed hard until the anger settled into bitterness. "They sneeze and half a town disappears. Monsters."

Milo whistled low.

Ivan stared at him with visible pity. "I'm so sorry. That's—"

"Don't." Wave cut him off. "Don't worry about me. We're all doing our part. Fighting the good fight. Doing what our governments are too cowardly to attempt."

"You really think they can win?" Milo's voice carried a rare edge of genuine curiosity. "The AES against the Enlightened Society?"

Wave pressed his forehead against his cupped hands. Shook his head. Looked up to meet Milo's eyes. "I don't know." The honesty was brutal. "What I do know? They're the only ones willing to try. For that cause, I'd give my life."

Milo scratched her head in frustration. "Tch."

"Something wrong?" Clay asked. Even Ritto seemed interested, his red eye turning toward her.

"Nothing." Milo shook her head. "Just remembering something the old man told me before we left."

Milo and Lector walked through the concrete shadows of an old underground parking lot, footsteps echoing off pillars. Silence stretched until Milo broke it.

"You know she's using you, right?"

Lector glanced at her without turning his head. "Meaning?"

"Your recruitment story. She did to you what you did to me. Only I didn't fall for it." Milo kept her pace steady.

"Yet here you are. Cooperating." Lector pointed out.

Milo snorted. "Yeah. Because you promised to help me if I helped you. A transaction. Nothing more." She turned to face him. "My mother actually mattered to me. Those bastards took her. I want them six feet under, and you're my best shot at making it happen."

Lector said nothing. They kept walking.

"It's probably the same for you." Milo continued. "Only you're loyal to her to a fault. But she's clearly using you."

"Precisely as you say. Excellent deduction, as expected." Lector's voice came soft. A knowing smile crept across his face.

Milo blinked. "And you're fine with that?"

Lector's smile turned warm and sad simultaneously. "Lady Vienna gave me purpose when I had none. Hope when I thought it was lost." His eyes burned with resolve. "So to answer your question, Miss Marinez—I serve my lady dutifully despite knowing she uses me for her personal gains."

"You're all the same," Milo told Wave.

He sat with arms crossed, absorbing her words with grave seriousness. Ivan looked anxious, like Wave might just reconsider everything. But when he unfolded his arms, this is what he said:

"You're right. Deep down, we're all like her right hand. As long as justice gets served, we don't mind being tools—even if she has other goals." His voice stayed steady. "That doesn't matter. Not to me."

The air in the plane grew heavier. The silence stretching.

Milo looked unamused. Frustration made her break the silence first. "How the hell haven't they invented smoking rooms on planes yet?"

Ivan tried lightening the mood. "Uh, can we talk about our destination maybe?"

"What about it?" Milo's tone stayed flat.

"Why SolThanor specifically?" He asked cautiously.

Milo sighed. "My contact said they're probably heading somewhere starting with 'Sol.' That's literally the only option in Luminia."

"But... there are places in Infernia and Geovale that start with Sol!" Uncertainty crept into his voice.

"Then let's hope they're in Luminia." Milo deadpanned. "We hit SolThanor and work south. Any further north and we fall off the map."

"And what? We just hope we find them?" Ivan's disbelief was unmistakable.

"Pretty much." Milo leaned back, hands behind her head.

"Unbelievable." Ivan shook his head.

Clay jumped in quickly. "Don't worry. Ritto's eye has powerful magnification and multiple scanners. If we get within a few miles of them, he'll spot them."

Milo whistled, then slapped Ritto's back. "Not bad, robot."

Ritto glanced at her, then away. "Mm."

The rest of the flight passed comfortably. Their mission was clear. Their goals motivated them forward into this strange, uncertain operation.

The gears were turning. Milo heading north. Maxwell approaching from the south. Angelo, Red, and Blue caught in the middle.

But there was one other cog in this great machine of destiny. Old but still hidden.

- Somewhere Unknown -

A man emerged from a cave, boot steps echoing against stone walls. He paused at the entrance, taking in the mountainous landscape before him. His hand touched his shoulder gently. As his arm lowered, his fist clenched at his side, full of determination.

"Your end is near, Angel of Death." His voice carried across empty air. "Enjoy these moments camping with your friends while you can. They will be your last."

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