A/N: Back from the dead. I was stuck on it for a while but figured something out. Mind you, it's a bit lengthy but I guess it's to make up for the time it took to write it? -nervous laugh-

Again, reviews are much appreciated. And i do apologize for any missed typos.

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“Exchanging phone numbers already I see.” Is the first thing Cat had asked me when I got back to our room. It took me all of my will power to brush her off and get her to leave the subject matter alone. She does so with a cryptic warning that I’m all too aware of. Getting close to anyone romantically during a case is dangerous to not only you, but also your colleagues and the innocent person getting involved. Even being friends is pushing it.

 

No…I won’t let this get out of hand…I’m not stupid and besides, this isn’t the first time someone’s tried to get close to me that I’ll probably never see again…I just have to be a bit gentler this time.

 

“Boo!”

 

I jump out of my seat and nearly smack the person on the head with a swinging fist.

 

“Woah! You nearly killed me there!”

 

I huff and turn with a heated glare at the perpetrator. “I didn’t have to if you didn’t startle me like that Lee Taemin.”

 

He just grins at me and sticks out his tongue. “Then that’s no fun.”

 

I shake my head, trying to suppress a growing smile as I sat back down. We were waiting around on stage in preparation for Mnet’s Gayo Daejun performance later tonight. The technicians had something they needed to work on (something about the lights) so rehearsals were halted for a few minutes. I feel him sit beside me and I turn to look at him. Red plaid shirt, black slacks, sneakers and now a brunette.

 

I stare at him, poker faced and he stares back, blinking exaggeratedly before noticing how I didn’t blink at all. He looks nicer as a brunette…

 

“….What? Is there something on my face?”

 

“Brunette suits you: makes you look more handsome.” I say at last as if talking about the weather. On cue, his cheeks turn pink. Right after, he laughs in hopes of trying to cover it up (back of his hand covering his mouth as usual). Cute…

 

“Ah what’s up with you? Don’t say something like that so casually…” He complains.

 

I shrug. “Blonde hair makes you look cute…younger even. But I think darker hair makes you look more mature.”

 

Clearly, he’s speechless: cheeks turning redder by the minute and eyes looking anywhere but at me. I should really stop making him uncomfortable (does that make me a terrible flirt?)

As if his prayers were answered, the stage director calls for all the dancers for Eunhyuk’s and Donghae’s ‘Oppa Oppa’ performance to take their place. Taemin stutters out an excuse and scurries off while I take to moving elsewhere so as to not be in the way.

 

I move to the side offstage to watch. Moseying up beside me is Jonghyun who gives a nudge. I look at him, my eyes asking what he wants.

 

“So…” He starts off, smirking. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing much…You know, just the usual I guess.”

 

“So…nothing exciting?”

 

“Nope.”

 

He pouts and I give him a pointed look. I know what he’s asking for and I have to say that I’m sorry to disappoint him.

 

“Jonghyun,” I start. “If it’s about what I think it is then nothing is happening and I don’t think anything ever will.”

 

“How do you know I’m talking about what you think I’m thinking? And how do you know nothing will ever happen if you’re talking about what I’m thinking about?”

 

I heave a sigh: not one of these things. The music blaring from the speakers is enough to cover our conversation from eavesdroppers but it also put a strain to each other’s words. Luckily it seems we can both read lips.

 

“Jonghyun, you and I both know that there are numerous factors that will never allow it to work and quite frankly, I’m just satisfied with the thought that someone out there loves me.”

The second oldest frowns, probably knowing I was right but still stubborn to give up. Really, I didn’t think he’d be that persistent in playing matchmaker. I can see he wants to say something else but the music pauses so he refrains himself. I vaguely here the director call for something and Jonghyun rushes out but not before giving a firm pat on my shoulder.

 

If only things were different…

 

-

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We got ourselves a hit, our Korean base intelligents says they’ve got an agent of King’s working in the area. Probably just an underdog or something but we can still get information out of him.”

 

“Great: where’d they find him?”

 

“Hanging around this fancy bar: The Steel Rose, I’ll tell you the address when the time comes. It’s almost like a hangout place for him and a small group. Usually they’ll be there around midnight in the VIP section.”

 

“So it’s a date then.” I smirk.

 

Cat chuckles. “You bet.”

 

My smirk disappears as my mind snatches a memory. “Damn it, I totally forgot I had another job. Mnet’s Gayo Daejun performance is going on tonight. My employer expects me to be working double time during then, but I’ll make it on over there as soon as I’m finished.’
 

Cat kisses her teeth and lets out a sigh. “Kay, but when you get there, go through the back alley entrance. Derek will be working as a bartender so he’ll let you in and you’ll find cover taking his place while he goes and waits around tables. I’ll be outside in our trusty tank keeping a watch and if we need to make a quick getaway.”

 

“Sounds fun. I’ll see you then.”

 

I exit the washroom and head back to the busy hallways of the backstage waiting areas. We basically stayed at Mnet all day for rehearsals and prepping for the show. Now as the time draws nearer, everyone’s bustling to get idols in their hair, make-up, cloth-

 

“Hana-ssi!”

 

I whip my gaze up to see Eun Jung, poking her head out from SHINee’s dressing room.

 

“C’mon hurry up! We still got a lot of work to do!” She scowls as I approach her.

 

“Sorry, I’ll get right to it.” I said but as I enter the room, the boys seemed like they were ready to go. Wow, so much to do…

 

“They look fine to me…” I mutter.

 

“I meant other things, Hana.”

 

Other things included sorting out outfits to get them ready for a quick change, cleaning stations, making final checks so that everything goes according to plans (I can’t help but think). I look over to the boys: they seem to be lost doing their own thing (Key fussing over his hair, Jonghyun doing vocal warm-ups, Onew looking like he’s catching up on a few z’s on the couch, Minho listening to his Ipod, and Taemin going over his dance steps mentally). Finally, we get the signal to stand-by and the boys come to life. Eun Jung stands by the door, ushering them out and she signals for me to follow too.

 

They get their mics checked and hooked and already I can hear the mass of fans screaming and cheering. Once they’re clear to go, they wait for the signal to enter centre stage. Before doing so, they all gather in a huddle and do their group cheer. I couldn’t help but smile even though I barely understood what they said.

 

“Fighting!” Eun Jung says encouragingly and they grin in response, Minho raising a double fist to the air.

 

Taemin catches my eyes and I smile at him encouragingly. “You’ll do fine.”

 

He smiles back, eyes twinkling with contained excitement but also nervousness. “You work hard too.” He teases and I only roll my eyes back in reply. Someone shouts for them and it’s show time.

 

“Fighting.” I say, smiling as they all head out. Onew, Jonghyun, and Minho grin back (with Jonghyun giving an additional woop), Taemin bows as he follows his hyungs while Key…yeah the usual. I don’t let it bother me though. I’m not here to make friends. I head back to the waiting room and take the time to watch the monitor.

 

Watching Taemin dancing, I realize just how much talent the kid has for it. I mean, it’s pretty clear, but to see it for yourself and feel the amount of impact is just…wow like a ton of bricks. Now I wished I didn’t give up contemporary dancing…

 

I hear the roar of the crowd cheering and screaming even as I weave my way back to the waiting room area. Eun Jung said that as soon as Taemin is done with this number, he’d have to rush back to switch clothes for his ‘Oppa Oppa’ performance. So I should’ve expected Eun Jung to start throwing clothes at me to prepare for the members to change into as she rushes about getting her tools and effects ready to fix their hair or makeup (or maybe both).

 

I place the clothes on hangers according to the members and place them at the back of the room where there’s a separate space for changing. Just as I finish that task, the door bursts open and Jonghyun comes dashing in at the speed of light (all the while shouting for everyone to hurry). He tosses off his coat in my direction (which I catch) and rushes to the back. The rest of the members do the same and soon I’m engulfed in a whirlwind of sweaty…smelly…clothes…Wonderful…

 

I immediately toss whatever that’s in my arms onto the couch they have; I swear I was almost smothered by fabric. The boys rush out: first Minho whom Eun Jung tends to first (but seems like he didn’t need much touching up), then Jonghyun (who was the same as Minho), next Taemin and finally, Key and Onew.

 

As fast as they had come, they were off onstage again and I can only sigh with relief only to realize that Key, Minho, and Taemin needed to change outfits again (I barely manage to catch a flash of them wearing their ‘Oppa Oppa’ gear).

 

By the end of the whole event, everyone’s in a good mood despite being so tired from performing and running around. I on the other hand, am ready to sleep but of course I couldn’t as my job for the day has yet to be completed. So while everyone changed out of his or her stage outfits, I gather my things and prepared to leave. I approach Eun Jung to inform her of my leave and she smiles, nods her head and pats me on the back saying how hard working I was. I smile back and turn to leave when another voice stops me.

 

“Hana!”

 

I turn and almost let out a sigh. “Ne, Taemin? Do you need something?”

 

“I was just wondering…” He stops; blinking a bit and lets his eyes fall downward. “If you’re free to go to the after party to celebrate. Everyone is going to be there. So I thought it’d be nice if…you can come too…you know…”

 

He’s half mumbling half speaking again but I got his message. This time I really did let out a sigh and as gently as I could, I told him my inevitable answer. “Taemin…I really would love to come…”

 

His eyes brighten as he looks at me and I see the corner of his lips begin to tug upwards. Oh God, better stop it before it gets worse. “But I’m really sorry I…have somewhere important to be right now…” I cringe a bit, as if bracing myself for that heart-wrenching crush of hope that will happen.

 

Ah I guess there’s no avoiding it. I can clearly see his hope just breaking into a million pieces, but he chooses to stand strong and masks it with a disappointed smile. “Oh…that’s too bad then…It would’ve been really nice if you could come…”

 

A frown tugs on my lips. He’s guilt tripping me and it’s working: God I feel so bad…“I know…I really wish I could and if things were different I would’ve. I’m sorry…”

 

“No no it’s okay! It’s not your fault.” He smiles reassuringly. He must’ve noticed. “Maybe next time.”

 

Next time…will there be? I give him a saddened smile. “Yeah… next time.”

 

Ah, got to get rid of this atmosphere…”Don’t have too much fun without me then. And keep your hyungs in line in case they get a little out of hand with alcohol.” I joke. He laughs a bit but nods his head.

 

“Ne I will. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then too.”

 

“Ne, bye Taemin.”

 

He waves and I turn to leave through the door but I stop.

 

“Taemin!” I call out, turning around. He turns back around too, looking as if he had just decided to turn and leave before I called out to him. I push the thought away, seeing as I have his full attention now and he’s blinking back at me in such a curiously cute manner.

 

I smile at him and almost bashfully duck my head down but I force myself to put up a confident facade. “You were pretty cool out there tonight.”

 

His eyes widen in surprise and for a minute it’s as if he didn’t process my words. Then he suddenly breaks out into the biggest grin I’ve seen in those rare moments. He’s ecstatic but he tries to contain himself by giving me a nod in acknowledgment before turning around and bounding off to his hyungs. I watch as he goes, still smiling stupidly at how he suddenly transformed into a five year old who had just been told they were going to a toy store to pick out anything they want.

 

I force the smile away though. I have a job to take care of. The night air is cool when I step out. As I hail for a taxi, I place on my earpiece again.

 

“Cobra.”

 

“Yo, you out?”

 

“Yeah, I’m on my way by taxi. What’s the address of the place?”

 

A cab pulls up on the curb beside me and I get in.

 

“652 Myeongdong in Jung-gu. It’s a bit hidden from view but if you look for a steel rose insignia then you’ll know.”

 

I recite the address to the cab driver and I was off. It didn’t take long for me to reach the place Cat told me. Paying for my fare, I turn to face the numerous lit up buildings in the area, trying to spot the insignia. I couldn’t see it, or maybe I’m blind, so adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I begin to walk. I spot Cat’s van discreetly parked just down the street across from me; I had to be close…

 

It took me two minutes to finally spot it; the sign is hidden almost directly behind two huge signs for two nightclubs that flank on both side and it wasn’t the biggest logo to begin with. Only if you frequented this private club would you know its existent…or if someone told you about. Otherwise, I’m sure anyone could walk right by it.

 

I approach it, avoiding the cluster of people lined up to get into the clubs surrounding the one I want to get in, the bass of the music barely muffled by the walls it’s contained in. As Cat said, there’s a sliver of an alleyway, marked only by a lone wall lamp attached to the wall, which separated the obnoxious, music-pounding club to the quieter one. I enter it, the corner of my eyes catching the sheen of steel reflected by the lights. As I approach the only light source, I spot the door on my left.

 

I approach it and give it two knocks. The metal surface echoes the noise and I wait almost impatiently. I didn’t know whether it’s anxiety or I’m just suddenly in an impatient mood. A loud creak disrupts my thoughts and my eyes dart to the answerer. I’m caught by surprise to see that it’s Derek, all dressed up in a bartender-like uniform (similar to the one I packed). Nevertheless, I’m relieved that it’s him who answered. He ushers me in with a curt nod, opening the door wide enough for me to squeeze in. The area I enter is even dimmer than outside; it must be the back of the bar or something. I can faintly make out crates of wine, bottles, and boxes containing who knows what.

 

“Get change, and go through that door. It’ll take you to the bar. Our target is in a VIP section secluded from the rest of the occupants. You have your ear piece right?” Derek murmurs quickly to me.

 

“Yeah I do.”

 

“I’ll talk to you then.”

 

He briskly leaves through the swinging door he pointed out to me. I scurry off to hide behind a stack of crates to change, pulling off my casual clothes in exchange for the white dress shirt, black vest, black pants and black closed-to heels. I tie my raven hair up in a messy bun and finally, pull out my pistol and extra clip and strap it to my ankles, which I successfully hide under the hem of my pants.

 

“Find it alright? I saw you getting here.”

 

“Yup, just fine. Getting ready to be in deep cover soon…”

 

“Okay, Derek will give you the low-down of the situation. The premise as of now is pretty much secured so if things get messy, I got you covered.”

 

I stuff my clothes in my bag and place it on the ground. I step out and make my way to the swinging door, pushing it open and entering the area behind the bar counter. The room is filled with the sounds of people talking, jazz music and cigar smoke to the point it’s suffocating. I see Derek serving the very few people that were in this club. It’s a small club, meant only for very few exclusive people. The colours that dominate are a deep red, royal blue, and some splotches of black and dark violet or indigo. Most of the area is filled with elaborate seating areas: velvet couches place to either the far left or right side of the room, creating a natural aisle, carpeted aisle in the middle: the bar being up against the wall on the left side of room. With each section is a low glass table and some stands holding vases of red roses; in total, there are five areas. A large crystal chandelier hung in the centre of the room: its lights dimmed down. Other sources of lights are ornate crystal wall lamps (also dimly lit). For decorations, various art deco paintings line the walls: all evenly spaced apart. The club is classy…. and very rich feeling (no doubt these people are loaded with money).

 

Scanning the rest of the club, my eyes begin to slightly water from the smoke but I manage to spot what must be the VIP section. A fairly large group of men are sitting in a semi-circular booth at the very top of a small platform area. There are only two levels holding two of these sitting areas on each. Of course, separating the VIP section from the rest Is a velvet rope line that stretches across the room starting from the first step leading up to the first platform.

 

What made it so easy to distinguish our target is the fact that they were the only ones occupying the VIP section. My surveying cuts short when Derek approaches me, placing the serving tray filled with empty glasses on the counter and asking me to get more brandy. I comply and as I come back from grabbing a bottle, Derek begins to speak quietly to me: his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve spotted our hit.”

 

“Hm.” I grunt, taking out clean glasses to replace to the dirty ones.

 

“He’s the one in the middle surrounded by big buff guys.”

 

I look up and only had to crane my neck a bit to spot him just slightly hidden behind the shoulder of one of his six lackeys.

 

“He’s too much of a pretty face to be involved with something so shady.” I mumble and Derek lets out a soft chuckle.

 

“The irony huh?”

 

Indeed. I would classify him as the typical lady-killer: tall, lean build, strong jawline, straight nose, deep set of dark eyes, almost has that brazen look but gentlemanly at the same time…He just screams ‘James Bond’, but what we have here was no secret agent.

 

“So how’re we doing this?” I ask as I pour the brandy into the glasses.

 

“Cobra says she’s got it covered. She’ll give us a signal and that’s when we’ll start this party.” Without elaborating any further, Derek takes the tray from me and goes off to serve the people again. I huff to myself; for some reason I got a bad feeling about this.

 

I have no choice though; I’ll just have to wait and see what Cat has up her sleeves. For now, I try to keep myself occupied so as to not seem on edge or suspicious. It proved to be a bit of a struggle because I hate being out of the loop on things. I need to know what this magical signal is so I can prepare myself. I turn to face the counter behind me and switch the tap on to wash the rag I’m holding. Just when I had made up my mind to give an earful to Cat about this ‘signal’, Cat’s voice rings through my earpiece and I almost jump out of my skin.

 

“Okay, operation fire drill is about to start.”

 

“Operation what?” Is this what I think it is…?

 

“Don’t question me. Now in 3…2...1….Releasing the hounds.”

 

On cue the fire alarm suddenly came on (figures…), the incessant ringing almost making me go deaf as everyone, once recovering from their initial shock, rushes towards what I assume is the front entrance. I however, remain where I am behind the bar and no surprise, our target and his men stand their ground as well. Derek strides backwards towards the direction of the front entrance as the last of the occupants disappear through it, eyes trained on the man still seated calmly in his VIP booth. The ringing suddenly ceases and we’re left alone in a tensed silence: each person watching the other like a hawk.

 

My hands are on my side, ready to reach down for my concealed pistol and I see that Derek’s arm is poised almost ready to reach into his vest for his gun.

 

“Well, I didn’t know the Secret Intelligence Service Agency has their agents doing part-time jobs at a bar…” the man says smoothly, lifting his glass to take a sip of his expensive brandy. I catch his gaze shifting from Derek to me and they linger longer than I liked them to.

 

“Nor allow minors to join…”

 

I feel myself twitch just slightly at the word ‘minor’: cheeky bastard, I’ll show you who’s the minor.

 

“Cut the crap: if you know who we are then you know why we’re here.” Derek says sharply though he maintains such a calm façade.

 

“No doubt made a bounty out of me.” He replies back deadpanned.

 

“Now, we can either do this the hard way or the easy way…” Derek warns. My eyes focus on our target; he sighs but gives a subtle incline of his head. I see a shift in movement amongst the masses of black suits and it doesn’t take me a second to realize what it is.

 

“DEREK GET DOWN!” I yell, ducking down behind the bar myself before the popping sounds of gunfire fill the air. I pull out my pistol and edge myself to the end of the bar to get a better view of the action going on. The glasses on the shelf behind the bar begin to explode from the bullets and rain down on me: I raise an arm to shield myself from the shards.

 

“They never go quietly.” I hear Derek say bitterly into my earpiece despite the noise. I could only scoff and fire at the space under a nearby loveseat, effectively getting the guy by the foot. He collapses in a cursing mess and I fire more rounds to confirm the kill before retreating back to the safety behind the bar counter. I creep up near the edge, before popping my head up, gun aimed and ready to fire.

 

I spot a guy taking cover behind another seat and he’s right in line of my sight. I shoot, hitting him squarely in the head. I quickly catch another guy by the shoulder before someone decided to pay attention to me and start firing in my direction from across the room. I duck back down in time as the bullets chip away the surface of the countertop.

 

“Derek! Can you get a visual on the hit?” I shout in hopes he would hear me.

 

“Can’t right now: I’ve got too much bullets flying at me!” I hear him yell back over gunfire. I pop back over the edge and fire at a black mass in the corner on the opposite side of the room. The guy is well protected behind his shield of seats. I duck again, ejecting my empty magazine before pulling out the loaded one and inserting it. Just as I my pistol back, a flurry of black cloth catches the corner of my eyes. I turn my head in time to see the heels of very polished black shoes.

 

“I think our target passed me to get to the back exit! I’m going after him!” I shout but I’m up and running through the swinging doors I came through earlier before I get Derek’s approval. I’m sure he can handle himself. I jerk back as gunshots nick the crates of a box. I retaliate by returning my own fire as I continue the chase. I jump over a crate barrier and see the man slamming the back door open into the alleyway. Sprinting after him, I fling myself out the doorway and aim my gun at his retreating figure. I shoot and I see him fall with a satisfying thud just a few meters away from reaching the main streets.

 

Finally, I thought catching my breath. I jog up to his crumpled and writhing figure; he lets out a groan and I see clearly that I manage to lodge a bullet in his upper left thigh. Taking him by the back of the shirt, I haul him back into the darkness of the alley until we’re under the orange tinged light of the lamp. I drop him unceremoniously against the wall; he leans back against it heavily as he stares up at me, short of breath.

 

“One last chance: where’s Marcus King?” I demand lowly, any emotion gone from my face as I train my gun on his head. He runs a hand through his mussed hair and gives a chuckle.

 

“For secret intelligents, you guys sure are dense.”

 

My eyes narrow into a glare, and I kneel down to his level, pressing the barrel of the gun against his left temple. I grab the scruff of his collar roughly and press my fist into his throat.

 

“I’m sick and tired of this alluding bull. Tell me where he is and I might just give you the chance to spend your life behind bars in peace.”

 

He lets out a choked laugh. “You might as well shoot me now. I’d rather be dead.”

 

My hand snaps as I give him a good whack on the jaw with the of the gun before repositioning it back to its original place. My captive lets out a low groan before spitting out the blood in his mouth.

 

“Why do you people make things so much harder than it should be?” I rhetorically ask. He scoffs a bit, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. My dark eyes meet his and I suddenly find myself locked in his gaze. I steel my gaze, mouth tightening into a thin line and I feel my patience growing thin. Just when I’m about to give his pretty face a new colour, he opens his mouth to speak.

 

“Marcus King is dead.”

 

Now that’s something I wasn’t prepared for. For a second I didn’t process his words.

 

“Liar.” Is all I manage to get out.

 

He scoffs. “Whether you believe me or not…He’s been dead for a week now. No one saw it coming so I don’t blame you.”

 

I find my grip loosen on him loosen a bit. He notices it too and continues speaking. “Once he assumed control, anyone who didn’t pledge allegiance to him was killed. Not like he doesn’t kill off his men whenever he wants already.”

 

At this point, I let go of his collar and slowly rise, still keeping my gun pointed at him. In situations like these, you can never tell if the person you’re supposed to kill for information is telling the truth or not. It’s hard: shoot him and lose out on possible leads or don’t shoot him but get false leads and a chance for him to attack. I weigh my options…trying to see if by chance I do kill him, that I would be able to extract information regardless whether he tells me the truth or not. The grip on my hand tightens.

 

“Assuming you are telling the truth…” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Why are you telling me this…?”

 

His mouth forms into a lop-sided grin, giving him a boyish look. “I don’t take orders from anyone other than King. Originally I wanted the satisfaction of exploiting him to guys like you, but given the circumstances now…it doesn’t matter who does it as long as the job is done.”

 

So him and his lackeys would be hard-core King followers…Rouges? If that’s the case, they were gonna be dead men anyways….

 

“Give me a name…maybe then I’ll believe you.” I say.

 

“The only name we got from higher ups is Cheol Yong.”

 

Iron dragon…?

 

“What about corporations?” I dish out: I might as well.

 

He chuckles. “You mean like big companies? Yeah, we’ve got some guys working low profiles for us in them: sending us money and information alike. It’s either they wanna get in on the profit we’ll make or we’re just using those big boys as pawns. Money’s gotta come from somewhere right?”

 

Figures…As I had thought, this kind of cover is almost full proof because no one would suspect it. And to add, some companies aren’t even fully involved in this scheme and they’re just getting scammed right under their noses.

 

I’m drawing myself into the depths of my mind, searching if that alias…or name rings a bell anywhere. So far: nothing. I repeat it over and over in my head…

Something moves out of the corner of my eyes, along with the faint sound of rustling cloth and suddenly I jerk back to the present. It happened too quickly: I remember the very brief image of an arm reaching into the jacket flash before my eyes. Consequently, the hours of training at the agency kicks in: it’s only after did I feel the slight dampness of my hand holding the gun did my mind register that my finger developed a mind of its own in a nanosecond.

 

I blink; my captive stares back at me with empty eyes as I slowly lower my gun. …

 

I ease out a breath to release my nerves and I bend down to his level again. I stare at him, his face pristine save for the splash of his blood along his jawline. My eyes travel to his right arm lying slack across waist now, reaching for something that’s obscured within his blazer jacket. I deftly ignore the blooming red where his heart is as I extend my arm to reach for where his hand was heading.

 

My hand flips open his blazer, and I expected a hidden firearm. Instead, I find something barely tugged out from its hiding place within the material: a pocket-sized notebook. I take it out; the worn black leather of the book smooth against my hand. Flipping open the first page, I catch the name scribbled at the very bottom corner of the page: Eric.

 

“I never really did get your name…” I say, though it’s rather to myself than to Eric. I straighten myself up, pocketing the notebook (figuring to investigate it further once I’ve regrouped with Derek and Cat).

 

I turn to leave but I stop myself, turning back to Eric’s corpse: he still stares blankly into space.

 

“Sorry Eric.”