The wind had picked up a little by the time we stepped out of Motley’s. The sun hung like a faded bulb in the sky, warm, but not comforting. Still, there was something pleasant about the way the air smelled: woodsmoke, dried earth, and the faint buzz of civilization trying to remember itself.
I turned to Elliot as we hit the street. "Could you check the schedule and get tickets for the next train east? As soon as possible."
He nodded. "Sure. Same station?"
"Yeah. We’re not far." I passed him a few bills from my coat pocket, enough for four tickets and pretty much anything else he could possibly want.
"Alright, I’ll be back soon," he said, and walked off at a brisk pace, the leather strap of his satchel bouncing against his hip.
Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Anthony. "So. How did you get here, exactly? Some agency bird? Hidden transport rail? Grappling hook from space?"
He smirked. "Public plane. Connecting flight through two dusty towns, a layover with a broken vending machine, and a chatty grandmother who tried to sell me soap."
I stared. "You... flew commercial."
"Sure did. Wore a fake mustache too. Didn’t even need it, probably, but you know. Style points."
I blinked. "So I can’t even use the same method you did."
"Not unless you want a twelve-hour delay, zero discretion, and a seat next to the pilot’s nephew who’s really into taxidermy."
"Charming," I muttered.
We waited quietly by the rusted bus stop near the edge of the town center, just in case Elliot came back early. Anthony occupied himself with a nearby paper map nailed to a bulletin board. I watched the wind toss bits of trash across the road.
About fifteen minutes later, Elliot jogged up the hill, slightly out of breath.
"Evening," he said. "Earliest train gets here around 7:20pm. Apparently there’s only two a day."
I exhaled. "Of course there are."
"Got the tickets, though. One for each of us."
"Thanks," I said, clapping his shoulder briefly. "That gives us some time, at least."
Anthony stretched. "I vote food. My stomach’s staging a coup."
I gave him a sidelong glance. "You just got here."
"Yeah, and I haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday. Gas station jerky doesn’t count."
I looked between him and Elliot, then finally at Anika, who stood with her head tilted slightly toward our voices.
"Let’s find a place," I said. "Something quick."
It was one of those time-worn places with vinyl seats, cracked laminate tables, and a wall clock that ticked half a second behind reality. The waitress looked vaguely surprised to see customers at all, and even more surprised to see me, Mr. Jester, but she gave us menus and left a pitcher of water without asking.
I slid into a booth. Anthony sat beside me, Elliot took the other side, Anika sat beside him blindfold still secured tight.
We ordered simple: sandwiches, coffee, soup for Anika. Nothing fancy.
"So," Anthony said around a bite of roast beef, "do you guys have a name? You know, like a squad nickname? Operation: Lost Boys?"
Elliot grinned. "We’re still workshopping."
"I vote for ’Lunchables’," Anthony continued. "Because we’re portable and ready for chaos."
"You’re not helping," I muttered.
He took a long sip of his coffee. "Hey, in my defense boss, I just got here. Haven’t really had the opportunity of making myself useful."
Anika spoke softly. "It’s strange."
"That Anthony is somehow capable," she said. "I sure wouldn’t have expected something like that."
Elliot glanced at her. "I mean he’s eccentric so that has to count for something."
She gave the faintest nod. "Yeah...I suppose it does."
It only got louder after that. From Anthony claiming that he is an A-Rank spy after all to Elliot bosting that Anika might be better at lying than him. It was cheerful in a way.
After paying the bill and leaving a tip that might’ve counted as charity, we wandered through town with no real destination.
Eventually, we found ourselves in a park.
If you could call it that.
It was mostly overgrown trees, a few sagging benches, and a cracked path that looped around a dry fountain. A couple walked their dog in the distance. An old man fed pigeons with pieces of what looked like dried biscuit.
It was quiet. Unnaturally so.
I slowed near a crooked tree, letting the wind push through my coat. Elliot was reading a sign by the old fountain. Anika stood beside him, holding his hand as to not get lost. Anthony stretched his arms overhead.
A voice. Low. Muttering.
"Reynard Vale... Masked Syndicate..."
The man was standing near the edge of the walking path, head tilted, one hand twitching at his side. His eyes were too wide. Too empty.
"Masked...Syndicate."
The others turned as well.
Elliot took a step forward. "Do you know him?"
But the man didn’t respond.
Straight at me. It was fast and unnatural. Ignoring everyone else entirely.
He slammed into Anika as he passed, knocking her sideways. Her hand left Elliot’s, and her blindfold slipped, twisting halfway up her face.
The man’s arm raised, what looked like rock in his fist, aimed for my head.
Anthony moved before I could.
He intercepted him with a brutal shove, knocking the attacker onto the concrete hard enough to make a sound like dry bark snapping.
The man writhed for a second... then stilled.
I rushed to Anika, who was on one knee, trembling slightly. Her blindfold had fallen completely now. She blinked up at me, dazed... and then her pupils dilated.
"...Reynard... Vale..."
It wasn’t her voice. Not fully.
I heard another mutter from the bench.
A young woman. Staring blankly in our direction. Whispering my name.
Then another from behind the tree line. A teen. A man walking his dog. A woman pushing a stroller.
How many had been activated?
How many had been placed here?
How and why are there so many Cain Protocol Subjects?
Anthony stood by the fallen man, breathing hard. "Boss," he said slowly, voice grim. "This isn’t normal."
"No," I whispered. "It’s not."
I looked back at Anika.
Her body trembled. Her lips moved. She muttered again.
And in that moment, I understood the depth of what had been done.
This wasn’t just infiltration.
The Protocol had spread further than I thought. Were subjects being released into the public?
Anthony drew his sidearm slowly, glancing at the others beginning to stir.
Elliot was at Anika’s side now, trying to keep her steady.
I took a step back, looking at the trees. At the shadows.