The man who lived at this run down apartment building was named Robert, according to the records in the Dark Kingdom. Robert Alberson. He had turned thirty this year and the picture of him as Captain Aspertine showed a handsome enough man, a bit on the bulky side, with thick, blonde hair. Green eyes. They had gone well with his olive uniform.

Cin eyed the picture in her hand as she paced down the sidewalk, keeping it close so she didn’t inadvertently flash a random passerby. It would be her luck that it would happen to be him in glamour, or someone who knew where he had gone, and the prey would see the snare before he walked into it. Days of careful watch over his old apartment would be for nothing and that would be another dead end to mark off her list of missing officers.

The captain tucked the picture into the pocket of her leather jacket as she turned the corner of the building, heading down the alley way beside it as though she had every right and purpose to being there. Confidence could get you into a lot of places you didn’t have a right or reason to be, just because you acted like you belonged. People questioned a confident person less than one being furtive. Or so she tended to think. The practice had held up well in the past, anyway.

“Shale.” The normal-seeming woman called, eyes forward rather than casting about for the man she’d assigned to this place. It had been up to him to find a good place to stake out the building and actually do so. There was only so much time Cin could devote to it, with the handicap of limited time not putting out a signature. Help had been necessary, even critical, to giving this operation even a shot of turning up something that might possibly lead them to a defector. It was familiar work, in a way, from her days as a bond enforcement agent. Maybe it was familiar to Shale too, who hunted the wild beasts. This was just another kind of hunting, with a different kind of beast.

The apartments grew more quiet as the night wore on - fewer meanderers returned home for their nightly rituals, and those of later hours stumbled through with markedly less coordination. In the darkness, identifying anyone looking similar to the description offered to him proved impossible; the warnings about glamour dispelled any interest he had in ferreting out people of similar body type and appearance. Instead, Shale set his gaze on a window facing out the south corner of the building, where the AWOL officer’s family lived.

And why be so covert about it. Shale relaxed against the thick branch at his back, and drew up legs to provide a better table for taking notes. Why not seize the families of those who desert our ranks, or who might have dropped beneath our radar. Why not corrupt them into the Negaverse as agents to pay out the promised activities from the absent officer. Have they not considered this, or is playing stakeout a more effective game? Perhaps they find it more cost-effective to sit lieutenants in trees to watch small apartments, hoping that some disappeared officer might slip up and visit old family. Old family that he only has half a chance to remember.

This entire plan feels so arbitrary. So indirect.

The call of his name drew him from stewing thoughts, and his impassive gaze searched through bushels of leaves to find the culprit. Alone in the alley, a tall woman sporting black hair and a striking figure stood near the dumpsters. Beyond her, red tape cordoned off a no-parking zone. Further, denotations banning civilians from entry hinted at the maintenance and storage areas. For a long time after, Shale offered no greeting.

Instead he watched her, studied her body language, and mulled over the authority behind the single call of his name. Cinnabar, undoubtedly - she already made her appearance clear when discussing the details of the operation. He had not, however, imagined her to look quite like this in her human days. Did she miss it, then? He figured she would curry many favors if she showed interest for it. And from those stemmed much power depending on those she invested her attentions in.

Finally Shale slipped from the tree without difficulty, landing on the grasses of the neighboring courtyard. He approached her slowly. His typical ripped secondhand jeans and a green tank offered him some blend when it came to perusing the streets, and the ventilation from holes and sleeveless top meant he wouldn’t cook in the summer nights.

“Cinnabar,” he returned as he closed the distance to conversational.

The wait for the lieutenant to appear stretched and though she stood impassively, hands in her pockets and hips cocked, inside she felt every second tick by with growing agitation. If he wasn’t here, then it was stupid to have asked him for his help in the first place. It wasn’t like this was any sort of official operation though…. she couldn’t punish him for being lax about it.

The thump of boots as someone left the safety of the back lot tree drew her attention and calm settled at last, recognizing the man who approached her with his dark, wild hair. Eyes narrowed, she gave him a once over before she glanced back at the apartment building he’d been watching.

“Anything of note?” She asked as she turned back. Had she told him enough, taught him enough of the rudimentaries of this work, to make this worthwhile? Would he know what to look for, what to make note of, and what not to? It was frustrating, being forced to work with other people to negate her own lack. You could never be sure if they’d follow through, or do what you needed them to… or abruptly decide they didn’t want to help you anymore and flake off entirely. It was even more frustrating when added to the vague nature of this particular prey. Normal people could be recognized by picture. They had connections, families, jobs, things you could trace them by… sometimes they were better at hiding than others, but short of going completely off the grid, everyone left a trail to be found.
“The name on the apartment indicated his wife still lives here with their two kids. Did anyone not on the list show up to visit or anything?” Finding the names of his friends and co-workers hadn’t been hard… he’d gone missing abruptly and the police were still running a pointless search. Everyone was happy to talk about the missing Robert and gossip about what might have happened to him. He had a sister in L.A., they’d said, but his parents had died a few years ago. He’d been friendly, but more focused on his family than going out with co-workers for happy hour.

Boring, mundane life… but family was a powerful draw for some people. Cinnabar had never seen the appeal.

”It’s been mostly quiet. Most of the comings and goings to the complex are unrelated to the family, as expected.” He opened the memo pad in hand and slipped a mag light from his back pocket. After twisting it on, Umber gripped the light between teeth and talked around the sharp metallic taste.

“11:03 - Lights come on. Occupant walks from kitchen to elsewhere.
12:15 - Lights are cut.
12:58 - FedEx truck arrives in front of apartment complex.
1:23 - FedEx driver visits apartment.

“Interestingly, FedEx ceases their deliveries to residences at around 8PM. Secondarily they always park along side streets or unloading zones depending on allocated space. They have no reason to park in civilian parking areas for delivery. This driver breaks both accepted rules.” He closed the notebook and checked the wristwatch he carried in pocket. It had not yet struck two when Cinnabar arrived.

“The driver left about five minutes afterward. He chatted with the female before departing. I can’t lip read, but the body language suggested friendliness or familiarity.” I wonder if that man was the captain of note. I wasn’t given much information on prior professions for this man - it could well be that he was a part of shipping and receiving industries before he elected to drop out of the Negaverse. Otherwise, he may have ties to other individuals willing to pass messages or supplies by company truck. I don’t know. Strict surveillance only allows for so much interference. “When I watched him return to his truck, he walked with an unusual sense of urgency.”

Shale pocketed the memo book afterward and turned out the mag light. “If we can get into the building, there should be a sign-in sheet for anyone dropping off packages or visiting the occupants. Pseudonyms are a high probability but we might be able to obtain the name of this FedEx driver and crosscheck him to our databases. What say you, Captain?”

She made a soft noise of assent as he listed off what he’d seen and what he suspected. He was diligent, she would give him that. Her earlier worry had been unfounded… of those she had worked with thus far, Umber was thorough and serious, it seemed. More than most of the others, even.

Cin ran her teeth over her lip as she listened, scraping the plump flesh before releasing it. The observation about the delivery man was a good one. Anyone acting suspiciously was worth checking out. The net she cast was too broad… but she couldn’t afford to cast small ones. There was no promises that any of these leads would turn up anything at all, so the more trails they could pursue, in her mind, the better. More chances to catch something that would lead somewhere.

“Good job, Shale.” She said as she offered him a warm, if absent minded smile, reaching to clap a hand on his shoulder once. Most of her attention was still on the building and her own plans. “Checking the sign in is a good idea, and possibly chatting up the office girl. Office girls like to gossip… if he’s new, they’d know about it. If she’s been cheating on her missing husband with him, you can be sure they’ll know that too and we can mark him off the list.”

Finally, she turned from her view to give him another look over, searching for darkness under the eyes or a stiffness to the way he held himself.

“How are you holding up? Do you need a break for a night? I know this isn’t the most glamourous or action-packed part of this job… but I appreciate what you’ve been doing. I can’t do it myself, unfortunately.”

”’Chatting up’ anyone seems like a task better left to an infiltration officer.” He hardly qualified as a talkative type; the number of friends he made felt more akin to sheer luck than any interpersonal skill. “I’m certain you can find some lieutenants willing to data-mine some of the secretaries.” Between his memorable appearance and lack of interest in having a chat with a potentially lonely secretary, Shale felt disinclined to offer himself up for the task.

The clap on the shoulder hadn’t bothered him, but it drew his attention to her. “Do you expect anything will come of this? From what I know of the purification process, anonymity proves essential to maintaining survival. Do you think any of these ex-agents are interested in chancing their lives to visit their past families? Even so, that’s assuming that these agents have disappeared due to purification. Some number of them might be deaths, or a purified officer might not even remember their family. What you’re angling for here leans heavily on luck.” Improbability never spelled impossibility, but he wondered how many resources she intended to expend on a longshot.

Exhaustion wore plainly on Shale’s features - sunken skin beneath his eyes was one of the first signs pointing toward a need for rest. His body language appeared less guarded, with shoulders slightly slumped. He blinked more frequently. “I could use a break.”

“This Robert Alberson’s fate isn’t going to change drastically if I stop for the night.” The individuals in the apartment offered no outward signs of paranoia. The pair stood in close to darkness regardless; anyone gazing out would need to parse out their forms in the heavy shade of the alley. “Have you had leads from your other officers? Anything meriting a followup?”

The captain grinned crookedly as she stretched her arms out infront of her, linking her fingers to bend them backwards and stretch their tendons out.

“Oh, I never meant for you to do it.” She chuckled, giving him a glance from the corner of her eye. “I meant I would.”

It could be fun, flirting with the office girl. She hadn’t had the opportunity to do it in a while and it was sorely missed. Even if it wasn’t the carefree sort of flirting, having a definite purpose to it, it would still be a nostalgic reminder of what life had been like before. Some of her amusement faded, though, when the questions started up and her demeanor shifted to something far more serious and focused.

“I don’t know for sure.” She said simply as she dropped her hands and then folded them over her chest, turning to face him. “You are correct, some of the agents on this list could be dead, or deserting their posts. They could have forgotten their civilian lives entirely as purification burned away those memories. They could even be too smart to come back and risk their lives, and their family’s lives. I’m aware this is a long shot that depends more on catching a break than actual sleuthing work. But think about it, Umber…”

Cinnabar spread her hands. “I showed you the list. You’ve seen how many names are on it. In all the time I’ve been an officer, I have never heard of someone being brought back after they’ve left, or even punished, save for one. Our ranks have been thinning, and with seeming impunity. They think they can flee and no one will do anything about it. They think they’re safe, once they’re on the other side, because no one has been caught afterwards. So think about what sort of a message we’ll be sending if we manage to pull this off. If we show them that they’re not safe, that we can still reach out and take hold of them even after they’ve left…”

The half youma shifted as she ran her hands back through her hair, her face alight with passion. Once, she would have never dared to attempt this… or even cared to. Why put out so much effort for so little, for an organization that had told her they would kill her if she didn’t join them. Things were different now… they’d given her so much more than she had thought she would gain, despite how well she had managed to ******** up her life. In spite of it.

“This is exactly what I did when I was human, before I joined the Negaverse. People fled, trying to escape justice, and I hunted them down and brought them back. I want to bring those skills here, now. I want to show that the General-Queen didn’t misplace her faith in me…” She said, her passion peaking before she realized what she was doing. Cin’s face shuttered as she pulled it back, watching him warily now, in case he had seen some of how very much it meant to her to prove her own worth. She never told people that… it was none of their business. It made her look weaker than she really was, needy, and that was not the image she wanted to project.

“The luck aspect is why I’m not pinning all of this on any one name, Umber. I been investigating most of the names on this list in some capacity, casting a wide net to see what I can snag. I already have a list of people who’ve simply stopped showing up for their duties, which eliminates them as defectors. That list will be going to the General Queens for punishment. Others left nothing whatsoever behind, and those have been marked as dead ends. Others, like this one, have a far better chance of turning up leads to follow. The stakes on what they’ve left behind are so much greater when there are people involved, loved ones. That either makes them more likely to slip up, or more dedicated not to, but it gives us our best chances.” She gave the lieutenant a once over again and her face eased, a smaller smile returning.

“But you’re right. I don’t think one night will break us. You can head home, I’ll take over, or find someone to, or something. Maybe after I go inside and talk to the office girl.” She shrugged, rolling her shoulders loosely. “No one else has turned up anything yet, but I’m patient and motivated. I’ll find something.”

”I understand where you’re coming from,” Shale offered as he rubbed his eyes. No amount of friction seemed to banish the weariness. “And those skills have their merits. For targets of note, those skills are extraordinary - but to me, this isn’t a practical application.” He covered his mouth to salvage some politeness while a yawn clawed its way out.

“Apologies; it’s much later than I’m used to.” In an effort to wake himself, he rolled and popped shoulders while he shifted his stance. The Negaverse demands much of its recruits. Half-youma, lieutenants, generals… How many hours have we paid out that were intended for expenditure on sleep. How many of us learn to function on five, four, three hours and expect that our brains will function properly. Especially if we fill our ranks with teenagers - how are we going to justify the developmental damage incurred by depriving these ones of essential hours? I suppose it’s not my place to say.

“For this list, we don’t need a bounty hunt. None of these people on here… Have any track record of value, so far as I know. If any of them have performed feats that the Negaverse recognizes as heroic, then there’s precedent for dragging them back. But for the rest? Maybe you can make an example of a couple. We used to dig shallow holes and pike the skulls into the ground upside-down so only the jaws came up over the surface. We called it toe cutting for the times that we’d disguise the dead and anyone shuffling along met teeth. You could probably do something recognized, like nail the starseed to the house of the deserter.

“But beyond one or two examples, your skills are wasted here. You will find more success in wholesale slaughtering your opposition than trying to parse out the turncoats. Process and slaughter - like a meatgrinder.”

He yawned once more. “I ramble when tired.” Half-lidded eyes lingered on her for a long moment before he directed his attention toward the apartment again. The lights went out; the remaining occupants must’ve gone to bed. A glance backward confirmed that the FedEx delivery driver still lingered. Had he other illicit deliveries to make at this hour? Was he running packages for those who had purified and felt the need to care for the ones they left behind?

Finally his gaze came back to Cinnabar. She looked different here, whether due to the waning sodium lights across from the alley or by finally becoming impassioned by her choices. Either way, it wore well on her.

A slow smile spread across Cinnabar’s face and it was predatory, full of fangs turned blocky by glamour.

“I like how your people think.” She chuckled, the sound rough. Imagine taking some of these missing officers, stringing them up and leaving them for an example... it would be a strong message. “These first are the proof, both of my own skills and the reach of the Negaverse. This is just the first door to open. Losing our officers to the other side is a slow bleeding wound, weakening us. We need to cauterize it and stem the flow. There will be times for the wholesale slaughter, and when it is, I’ll stand with the others against our enemy. But for now, I’m laying the foundation for something that will reach farther, I hope. Things that will make better use of my skills in a more focused hunt and have a greater impact that one or two petty officers.”

She glanced back at him, catching him looking at her consideringly. She flashed him her smile again and there was more than a little invitation in it. Xe was lucky, having him for a subordinate. He was steady, dependable and thoughtful. He would go far, she would bet. It was a shame he didn’t seem interested in more than professionalism.

“Go home, Umber. You’ve done a good job tonight and your thoughts on this have been noted. I’ll keep them in mind. I’m determined to follow this through, though. As far as I can take it.” Reaching out, she ran her fingers down the outside of his bicep as she turned to go, letting them trail off his elbow at the end. Tucking her hands into her coat pockets, Cinnabar headed for the apartment building, glancing up and down the street before she trotted across it and bounced over the curb on the other side. Hips swaying, she made from the front door and tugged it open.

”Undoubtedly.” He offered no argument against a handful of officers, deserted or turncoat, receiving a caustic fate. If she continued requiring his services during these hunts, then he would provide as he could readily. Ultimately he was interested in what she might do if she found the men and women who became turncoats. What would be her method of dealing with these people? Execution outright? Torture? Distribution of body parts over a wide radius with tattoos over skin that indicated Negaverse involvement? Crystallization at different points in the city? The act of sending a message held great power, but the message itself determined the course of this endeavor. She needed to choose wisely.

“Part of that ‘cauterization’ is fear, yes. But you would have a Treblinka on your hands, Cinnabar.” He looked to her, almost gently. “There is merit in understanding the people who work for you, and in positive motivation. If you can find someone to attempt the healing on the inside while you worked with the outside, then you would have a powerful working mechanism to stymie traitorous acts.” Shale closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them again; the world was blurred.

The touch to bicep drew enough attention to wake him a little. He felt the digit meander to the end of his elbow before the woman began her departure. “It’’s Shale,” he added after her. But you probably already knew that if you’re looking up old soldiers.

Finally he himself started in an opposite direction; the path home wound through the town, but the movement would keep him awake. When he got home, would he find it difficult to sleep?

Did he ever?

For a moment, Shale thought he should.