Alert Level: Immediate — CTI Tier II. Entity exiting the Central Region Directorate, moving east. Appearance: Young female, approx. 23, 5'4", mouse-brown hair and eyes. Capture: Failed — Gamma operative burnout. ETA Hǎi'àn Directorate: 11 hours. Recommendation: Alpha + Lambda operative deployment.
The silver sun hung low, its light spilling across the cafeteria in muted streaks. I picked at my food, noting the quiet hum of conversation. Everyone seemed slightly taut, edges softened only by habit. There was a weight in the room—like the air itself had heard news we hadn't yet.
Victoria sat across from me, calm as always, her fingers resting lightly on the rim of her bowl. "Who are they intending to investigate the new case I submitted?" Her voice was precise, deliberate, cutting through the soft clatter of dishes.
Tatsu muttered, poking at his food with a fork. "What case?"
Victoria didn't answer. Etsuko leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing at her plate. "Victoria was on the telephone earlier… and got a rather disturbing report," she said carefully.
"It—" she paused, chewing thoughtfully.
"A mass murder incident," Amihan said sharply, eyes fixed on Victoria.
"A ritual killing," Min added, taking a slow sip of her tea.
I felt a faint chill crawl along my spine. Watching Victoria, seeing how composed she remained even in the face of something horrifying, I realized—this was why the salary, the benefits, the stress—they were worth it. The magnitude of her work, and ours, suddenly made sense.
"So, who are they sending in Alpha's place?" Min asked, stirring her tea. "Alpha is on rehabilitation for two weeks, correct? From the forest assignment?"
"Yes," Etsuko murmured, twirling her chopsticks absently. "Though the operative we escorted last time—the one outside the region—I couldn't see their face, but their blade… a Nodashi. The saya was remarkable."
I traced the memory in my mind. "I see."
Victoria took another deliberate sip of soup. Her eyes flicked toward us, assessing, holding attention without demanding it. "Who…" she began, then paused, as if reading the room. "Never mind," she said finally, returning to her meal.
The silver sun dipped lower, long ribbons of light stretched across buildings as we made our way back to the dormitory.
I murmured quietly, half to myself, "Brown hair, brown eyes… hey, isn't this—"
And then she was gone.
My stomach clenched. I blinked, scanning the space, trying to convince myself it was a trick of the light.
"Where's Victoria?" I asked, my voice tight. Panic was rising, though I tried to steady it.
"She is—" Amihan began, then froze, eyes darting across the tables and out the windows.
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.
"Let's report," Tatsu said sharply, moving toward the exit. The rest of us followed, feet crunching on the stone floor, hearts beating hard, senses alert.
Outside, the city was indifferent. The street smelled faintly of dust and evening air, the horizon dragging the last silver rays down, unbothered by human panic.
I scanned the sidewalks, the alleys, noting every shadow, every twitch of movement. Nothing. Only the city, indifferent and complete.
Something had moved here. Something beyond our comprehension. And it left only absence.
The silver sun vanished entirely, and the street held its silence as though nothing had happened at all.
We moved down the street in silence, the weight of Victoria's absence pressing on us. My boots scuffed lightly against the cobblestones, and I noticed the way the shadows leaned long and thin from the lamplights—too perfect, too deliberate.
Min's hand kept brushing her tea-stained sleeve, a small tic of nerves I had seen before. Tatsu muttered to Amihan under his breath, words too soft for me to catch, but the tension in their posture said enough. Etsuko walked ahead, glancing back occasionally, eyes sharp, hair catching the last light of the silver sun.
I kept my gaze forward, but my mind raced. Where had she gone? She hadn't stumbled or been dragged—no signs. The street was undisturbed, silent except for our footsteps and the faint scrape of a cart wheel somewhere in the distance.
"What about the call?" I asked finally, trying to break the silence, even if the question was more to steady my own pulse than to get an answer.
Amihan shook her head. "The report… it came from Central. Nothing in it hinted at a capture scenario. Nothing should have happened here."
I nodded, though my stomach twisted. That was exactly what made it worse. Nothing should happen, and yet it had.
Min murmured, more to herself than anyone else, "Could she… have gone ahead?"
"By herself?" Tatsu scoffed, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. "She's not the type to leave without letting someone know. Not for a simple assignment."
I noticed Etsuko's hand tightening around the strap of her satchel. Her calmness was an act; I could feel the tension coiling just under her skin. That told me more than any words could.
The street ended at a small plaza. Lanterns flickered in the wind, casting dancing shadows across the stone, and I caught movement just at the corner of my eye—a subtle shift in light, like something had stepped behind the wall and melted into it. My pulse quickened.
"Do you see that?" I whispered, pointing subtly.
Min leaned in, but shook her head. Tatsu squinted. Amihan frowned, adjusting her glasses. Etsuko's lips pressed thin. None of them confirmed it, yet all of them felt the weight.
"Whatever it is… it didn't leave a trace," I muttered. My hands were clenching, unclenching, a silent rhythm to keep my mind from leaping to worst-case scenarios.
The city around us went on. A carriage rattled past. A dog barked faintly in the distance. And yet, the absence of Victoria—the way the evening had folded itself neatly around her disappearance—was undeniable.
I swallowed hard. This is the kind of thing the alerts warn us about, I thought. CTI Tier IV. Immediate. Entity movement. Everything in me screamed that what we had witnessed was only a ripple of something larger.
"Let's get back to the dorm," I said finally, voice steady though my chest still throbbed. "Report from there. We can't—" I paused, weighing my words carefully, "—we can't make assumptions."
We moved again, slower this time. Every alleyway, every glint off the windows caught my eye. I cataloged them all, tiny details that might tell us something later. The rest of the group was quieter now, each lost in their own swirl of thoughts, tension radiating outward.
And through it all, I kept a single, stubborn thought in my mind: Victoria didn't just vanish. Something had taken her—or something had made her leave.
The silver sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon. The sky was dark, but the city still breathed. Our feet carried us forward. Every shadow, every whisper of wind, felt alive.
And I knew, without needing confirmation, that nothing would be the same by morning.