I’m going home soon. 

When Jisoo first secluded herself from the reality of her sins, she had never put any thought into what came next. All she had ever desired was to run and put as much distance between herself and the truth. Now she was almost ready to return, and despite her initial reservations felt at peace with herself. She hurt the people who were once family to her. That could never be changed or forgiven. There was no point in dwelling on what she did to Byung-ho any further. The only thing that stood in her way, or rather, the only person who stood in her way was unfortunately still at large. 

Thomas Evans was a surprisingly crafty individual. Thus far he had evaded detection from her family’s agents, which included an active manhunt by the local authorities as demanded by Grace. After her rather humiliating defeat at his hands early on Christmas Day, he had seemingly vanished. None of his relatives under surveillance seemed out of the ordinary. Likewise, none of the suspected contacts he would have such as old high school friends or brothers in arms within the military they had investigated turned up any results.

When fishing, the rod doesn’t matter. You could spend millions on the best gear, hooks and lines… but it won’t mean anything if the bait isn’t good enough. Jisoo recalled the advice of a distant cousin. 

Jisoo observed the tiny, worthless creature that cowered beneath her gaze. She had almost forgotten that Grace had taken it upon herself to make a new pet out of Thomas’s old flesh light. Claire Weaver was but a shadow of her former self. No longer a woman of authority in law enforcement, but rather a bone-thin and battered husk of a human that flinched at even the slightest move from either herself or Grace who stood alongside her. 

Nonetheless, Grace seemed rather proud of her subordinate’s work. “What do you think?” She asked with a devilish smile. 

“I think there’s a chance she betrays you.” Jisoo replied disdainfully, in Mandarin to keep their conversation hidden from Claire who said nothing as her godlike mistresses boomed from up above. “Or, she will be too incompetent. Both are equally likely.”

“Perhaps. Although it is certainly our best option right now.” Grace replied with a shrug. “Unless you have a better idea?” She asked.

Tsk! How did it even come to this in the first place? Relying on a worthless bitch to lure out a thorn in our side. Jisoo thought angrily and clenched her fists tightly. It’s all because I was too weak before. 

Jisoo sighed and rubbed her temple. “Unfortunately I do not. But still, I would feel better if we had more time to re-educate her. Your bodyguard broke her spirit, not her mind. There is still the chance she will lay a trap for us.” She mused and glanced at Xiangling, who stood in the corner of the room silently and watched the two women appraise her pet.

Truthfully her work was impressive, especially for someone not properly trained in subjugation or indoctrination techniques like herself or Grace. However, without more time there was no way to really know just how much of the old Claire Weaver still lingered in the emaciated shell of a person. 

There was a small part of Jisoo that felt pity for Claire, all things considered. Of all the individuals who had been a part of this grand mess, she was the only one who had been roped in. Had Thomas not gone to her for help, she would have been able to live a long life and enjoyed a successful career. If she so wished she could have moved on from law enforcement and into politics, or pursue a career as an attorney or detective. Some day she could have even settled down and had a family, and watched her grandkids play in her spacious backyard. 

Instead she was here. Bruised. Starved. Twisted and morphed to resemble a downtrodden thing that obeyed orders and licked the grime from her master’s sole in a desperate attempt to cling to life. 

However, it was clear to Jisoo that Claire was the same ilk as monsters like Sylvia Collins or Alice Evans. As a member of the police force, she swore an oath to serve the people and protect their best interests. If she could not even refer to a quiet, unassuming man who happened to be a speck with a pronoun, then surely she scoffed at her obligations to protect specks from harm as well. Therefore the pain she endured was simply a consequence of her failures to protect those most in need.

Specks existence was torture. She knew that much first hand. Because of killers like Alice and Sylvia, and their wretched enablers who did nothing to stop them like Claire and Mikayla. 

Ultimately, her grim fate was Thomas’s responsibility. He was the one who roped her into this mess in the first place. If not for him, Claire never would have suffered like this. No doubt Grace had made implicit suggestions to Claire that her anger should be pointed at her ex-boyfriend rather than herself or Xiangling. Whether or not she had come to that realization yet was unknown. At present the only thing they could be sure of was that this was unfortunately their best and only option to locate Thomas Evans in a timely manner. 

“Very well. I will trust your judgement on this one.” Jisoo eventually said in defeat and crossed her arms. “And I suppose since it is your plan… you should choose what to do with Evans when we confront him.”

“Oh? You don’t want a rematch with the man who managed to beat you while you were off your game?” 

“The only man who interests me right now is Eren. Thomas is simply a roadblock, I don’t care about him or what happens so long as he is dealt with.” Jisoo responded. Once there was a time when she would have ripped her honor back away from the man who humiliated her, but now she realized how pointless it was. The knowledge alone that she could beat Thomas if they fought again was enough for her. 

Claire cowered beneath the harsh glare of her masters, who carried on a conversation with one another with voices like the ominous roll of thunder. She had opted out of foreign languages in high school and never took Mandarin classes, and understood nothing of what was said. 

All she knew was that she had been presented a rare opportunity by her mistress. A chance to return to her service, and go far, far away from the terrible embrace of Xiangling who took delight in her pain. She could return to the warmth provided by her preferred master’s feet beneath the covers without fear she would be trodden on for even the slightest transgression or misstep. And above all else, she knew that Grace would actually feed her regularly. Never in her life had she been so hungry before. Her stomach was an empty pit, and she could count the meals she had eaten in the last week on one hand.

But that would change soon. Grace had forgiven her for being a bad pet, and even treated her to a sliver of cake earlier that day… and promised her an entire slice if she simply obeyed her instructions.

Whatever they were, Claire would do them. Not just for the food, but to demonstrate to her mistress that she could be a good pet and never needed to be sent away to be punished by Xiangling anymore. 

Finally the two giants appeared to finish their conversation, and their attention turned towards her. Instantly Claire went rigid and she bowed her head reverently. 

She felt an immense pressure around her midsection from a gigantic pair of fingers which clamped down on either side of her torso. Her legs dangled uselessly and she was brought up to the plush, soft lips of her heart achingly beautiful master who smiled warmly. Grace rearranged Claire so that she laid back in her palm, as if cradled in a cozy bed.

Her lips turnt up at the corners to smile. “Oh you poor little thing.” Grace cooed and extended her index finger to stroke Claire’s back affectionately. “Xiangling put you through the ringer, did she? That awful woman.” 

“I-I’ll be good… I promise!” Claire pleaded, her voice shaky despite the rare tenderness she was now afforded. She glanced at Xiangling, who still stood silently in the corner of the room like a sentinel. Claire shivered. “Please don’t send me back to her…”

“Hmm… but if I whisk you away, then who would keep Xiangling company?”

“I-I…”

“We will need to find someone to take your place at her side, so you may grovel at mine.” Grace surmised and scratched her chin. “Any suggestions darling?” She pondered.

Claire paused and thought about the question. Who could take her place as Xiangling’s pet? Whoever it was, they were a person who deserved pain and misery. Someone who needed to be punished, worse than she had been punished for her failures as a pet. 

You know who. A vindictive voice in the back of Claire’s head hissed. That bastard who got us into the mess in the first place. He deserves to suffer for dragging us into this. 

The man who was ultimately at fault for everything. Who had stolen her life away and then vanished while she suffered and toiled. The same man who broke her heart all those years ago when she thought they could be together forever, so he could gallivant across the world and pretend to be a hero. 

A hero who not once had tried to rescue her. Instead he slinked away and left her to the wolves. 

“Thomas.” Claire blurted. “Thomas should be my replacement.”

Before she attended Carnegie, Maddie had toyed with the idea of a career as a baker. What stopped her was ultimately outside influence from her parents who would have balked at the idea, and her own decision to pursue artificial intelligence which paid considerably better. Besides, she liked to experiment too much to ever master an exact science like baking. 

Nonetheless the heavenly aroma of freshly baked cookies or brownies eased the intense migraine that had dogged her for the past two weeks since…well, she would rather not think about it anymore. 

Of all the visitors her grandfather’s nursing home received, she was easily the staff’s favorite as well as a few of the residents. She always brought something for everybody, and remembered people’s preferences. And more importantly their restrictions or diets so the staff wouldn’t need to worry.

Once Maddie had handed out a few platters of homemade cupcakes, she located her grandfather’s ward.

It was a cozy room, and quite spacious. Although Franklin typically did not move around much on account of his age which made it too much of a hassle. Instead he preferred to watch the boats in the channel through the window or watch shows on a flat screen provided by the home. 

The old, withered man blinked as he heard his only granddaughter enter the room. A smile touched his face as he noticed what she had in her hands.

“Happy Birthday, grandpa.” Maddie said softly and set a chocolate cupcake with vanilla buttermilk frosting and a single lit candle upon his lap. “Make a wish.” She insisted and took a seat next to him.

Franklin chuckled. “I wish that you won’t tell anybody that it’s my birthday… so I don’t have to listen to that awful song.” 

“Oh so you don’t want me to sing?” 

“Maddie you are a brilliant woman, but god almighty you weren’t blessed with a singer’s voice.” Franklin teased and laughed. Maddie laughed as well but her face quickly flashed with concern as the elderly man began to sputter and cough. 

Swiftly he covered his mouth with a nearby blanket to avoid spraying her or the cupcake with flecks of saliva as he heaved, for several seconds his face turned red until mercifully the episode calmed down. 

“Are you alright?” She asked and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was difficult to believe this was the same man who carried her on his shoulders effortlessly when she was a young girl and could run at the same time. Time had stolen more from him than she could imagine.

Franklin set the blanket to one side and nodded. “Ah don’t worry about it. I spent a bit too much time outside in the cold yesterday is all.” He frowned. “Although I could ask you the same thing.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyes. You look exhausted.” He murmured and carefully picked up his birthday cupcake and blew out the candle. 

Is it that obvious? Maddie thought regretfully. Hmph. Somehow he can always tell when something is wrong with me. 

She crossed her legs and rubbed her temple. Her shoulder slouched a bit, now exposed there was no reason to pretend like she was in a completely jolly mood all things considered. Nor was there a reason to keep the truth from her grandfather.

Franklin listened to her tale and ate his cupcake. He had just finished and reached for a napkin to wipe the frosting from his lips right as she concluded with how she now had several investors begin to abandon her project after they announced another delay.

He set the cupcake wrapper aside and considered what she had told him. “Why did you fire that young man?” He asked curiously with his hands on his lap. “He seemed like a model employee.”

“Eren? Well… he’s a speck, grandpa.” 

Franklin arched his brow and clasped his fingers together. “I’ve never known you to be a bigot, Maddie. To hate someone because of how they were born…” He murmured in disapproval. 

Maddie bit her lip and looked away. She could handle a glare from her parents, but her grandfather had always held a special place in her heart. His disappointment struck a different chord within her. 

Still, she had her reasons. “I… I don’t hate Eren because he’s a speck.” Maddie eventually muttered. “I don’t hate anybody.”

“Then why did you fire him like that?”

“…the investors in Eureka would never accept a product if they knew a speck was responsible for the technology. And I can’t imagine many people would trust their elders in the care of a robot made by a speck.” Maddie defended. “It doesn’t matter how good his work was, so long as a speck is tied to my company it will always be tarnished on the eyes of potential customers.” She reasoned. 

Franklin frowned. “I didn’t raise you to care what others think of you Maddie. Or to put money and personal gain ahead of your ethics.”

“This is different, Grandpa! If Eureka doesn’t perform well, I can’t pay my employees. Don’t they deserve to earn a living?”

“Doesn’t Eren deserve the same thing?” Franklin shot back.

Maddie sighed and shook her head. It was hard enough to be a young woman in such a male-dominated field, to tack on the presence of a speck among her ranks would scare off any chances she had of sponsorship. 

And ultimately that’s what she needed. 

Money and connections, which was held by people who most often turnt up their noses at specks and silly little girls who chased after lofty dreams of helping people. “Regardless of what he deserves, he lied to all of us.”

“Did he lie? Or did you forget to ask? Did you even consider the possibility that a speck would apply to work for you?” Franklin pressed and crossed his arms. “It seems like you forgot specks existed outside of their internment camps in the first place.”

“I would hardly call a modern speck commune an ‘internment camp’, they are specially designed accommodations tailored specifically for them.” Maddie rebuked. “Everything specks need is provided by the state. I never thought one would work for me since they have no reason to work to begin with.” She said truthfully.

Franklin shook his head. “Maddie… have you ever actually seen a speck commune?” He asked. “And not one of the ones shown on the news or by the media. Have you ever seen one with your own eyes?”

“I can’t say that I have.” Maddie admitted. “I never really had a reason to.”

“As a birthday gift to me, visit the commune closest to you and see what it’s like.” Franklin requested. “If it is the freely provided paradise the media claims it to be, I shall owe you an apology.”

It was difficult to live off the grid for a prolonged period of time. The lack of contact coupled with the never ending anxiety from his current predicament was torture to Thomas, who spent the bulk of his time cloistered in his motel room. His only resource to touch base with the outside world was his occasional excursion to the Internet cafe near the motel.

Previously it had seemed like his best, if only option was to keep a low profile until he could plan his next move. Unfortunately as the weeks ticked by into the new year Thomas still was yet to think of anything. If his hypothesis was correct and the fox-faced assassin was dispatched by the almighty Amrita Corporation, then what could he really hope to do?

Maybe it was a mistake to go AWOL. He thought one day as he sat on a park bench far away from downtown. I would have been unable to help Alice, at least for now, but I wouldn’t have to worry about an assassin if I was still in the Air Force.

His emails were chock-full of warnings, fines and other such communication from military command who by now were very aware that he had failed to return to his post. Thomas only dared log into his accounts to check for updates on anything once a week, always in a different location as well. Truthfully he had no idea if his phone actually could be tracked but assumed it was better to turn it on for a bit every once in a while rather than build up a predictable routine with the cafe.

As he had expected, his parents were worried about him. The past few weeks had been rough for them as well. First Alice stormed out and now he was seemingly throwing away his entire life. All they wanted was for him to come back home and call the police about the assassin.

Just as Thomas was about to shut off his phone for the day after roughly ten minutes of screen time, it began to vibrate. 

At first he was ready to dismiss it as his parents or the military attempting to reach him for the umpteenth time, but furrowed his brow when he read the caller identification.

Claire?! He thought in shock. It had been weeks since they had spoken. The last thing she had told him before she cut contact with him was that it was all her fault that she was in trouble with the Attorney General’s office.

Thomas assumed she never wanted to speak with him again after that disastrous incident. Why would she call him now? He hesitated as the phone rang, his thumb hovered above the answer button.

I would have thought she was still in trouble with the police department, or something had happened to her when she never made contact. Thomas thought. Should I answer?

He let it ring for a while, and contemplated ignoring it. Something seemed off. 

But at the same time, it had been weeks since he had put any effort into his search for Alice or taken steps to move forward in some way. This was the first real sign of anything in a long time. And more importantly, it was Claire. It was his fault she could have lost her job to begin with. 

*click*

He held the phone up to his ear. “Claire?” Thomas asked cautiously.

“Hey Tommy. It’s been a while.” He recognized his ex-girlfriend’s voice almost immediately. She sounded normal at least, which put him at ease. “I have some good and bad news-.”

“Before you get into that,” Thomas cut in abruptly. “Where have you been the last two weeks? I thought something happened to you.”

“Thanks to you I was given a write up and a dressing down in the Attorney General’s office.” Claire shot back. “I have been forced to do community service hours, my pay was docked, and the Commissioner thinks I’m a moron.” She replied hotly. 

He could hear the bitterness in her voice. “I’m sorry Claire, I really didn’t mean too-.”

“Look, we can deal with that later. For now let’s just focus on getting your sister back, alright?”

“…thank you. I’ll make it up to you somehow.” He said with a smile and relaxed his shoulders. “So you said you had good and bad news?”

“I’ll start with the good news, if you can call it that. That bitch who was in the limousine also has a connection to Alice.” Claire told him.

I figured as much. Thomas thought dejectedly. “I did some research on her. I think her name is Grace Chen.” He said.

For a few moments there was silence on her end. “You… know about her?”

“Not much. I know she’s a part of the Amrita Corporation somehow, one of Baochai Fang’s great granddaughters I think.” Thomas said. “I dug around and found her social media accounts. That woman we looked into, Tae, was in them too so there is definitely a connection.”

“Well, all the more reason to be careful.” Claire replied simply. “But onto the bad news… there is an active warrant out for your arrest. It’s too dangerous for us to meet out in the open, or at all for that matter.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I can’t keep up the investigation for much longer so I compiled all my findings. I’ll leave a dead drop with them somewhere and you pick it up. From there I’m afraid you’ll be on your own.” She told him. “I’ll text you the address. Be careful and keep your guard up.” She advised.

He took a deep breath. “Alright sounds good.” Thomas replied. 

With that, Claire hung up the phone and left Thomas to think about what she had said. He placed the device on his lap and patiently waited for the text in the meantime. 

Something happened to her. Was his first thought. She was furious when we last spoke, and she’s always been the type to hold a grudge. Why would she go through the lengths to help me out? 

A few seconds later he received the text. He checked the location and his frown did not go away.

And why a dead drop in such a secluded area… a warehouse? Yeah, not suspicious at all.

There were three distinct possibilities as far as Thomas was concerned. Perhaps Claire was honest and she genuinely just wanted to help him find Alice, but could not risk anything else to do so. But he was not stupid enough to believe that. 

This was a trap. The question was whether or not the people he would find at the warehouse would be an army of police officers ready to arrest him, or that assassin again. If it was the former, he would be arrested and sent to jail where undoubtedly he would be ‘killed by a cell mate’. But if it was the assassin, or other hit men, he at least had a chance. He won once, he could do so again. And now he had the upper hand, if he knew what to expect and could prepare ahead of time. 

Of course he could also run away, but that would go against his nature. Thomas was not the kind of person with enough patience or optimism to assume things would get better. He would be proactive, and face every situation head on regardless of the consequences, so long as he learned the truth of what happened to his sister. He failed Alice years ago when she underwent abuse. He would not fail her again. 

No matter what it took. 

Mandarin Chinese was the most commonly spoken language in the world. Due to the very high demand for fluent speakers and skilled translators also familiar with Chinese customs and business etiquette, it was very common for the language to be taught even in American schools. However, speck education programs which frequently underwent budget cuts limited applicants for classes.

Because of the massive discrepancy between qualified educators compared to the number of people, specks had to apply and interview to learn about different subjects even in primary and secondary school. Spots were very limited and fiercely competitive for entry into major universities so specks only applied to subjects relevant to their role in their communes.

Eren had applied almost exclusively to science and math based classes throughout his academic career, due to his natural affinity for the material. History, economics, literature, and language were unfortunately all outside of his range of what he had the skills to apply for. Which included even the most elementary knowledge of Mandarin Chinese.

Jisoo strolled past the kitchen counter and set down a cup of tea, and loomed over him to observe his work. 

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “What character are you trying to write?” She asked and took a seat on the stool behind the counter. 

Is it really that bad?! Eren thought shamefully and stepped off the sheet of paper so she could scrutinize his sloppy attempt. For several seconds Jisoo simply stared blankly at the character and tried her best to discern what it was.

“It’s supposed to be the character for ‘speck’.” He eventually confessed while she scratched her head.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh! Well… it’s very…” She bit her lip and paused for a moment. “It’s an excellent first attempt!” 

“I need a lot more practice.” Eren mumbled and picked the pen up once more. It was bigger than he was, which made it hard to copy down the exercises he had taken from an online beginner’s course.

His penmanship aside, it was an extremely complicated language to someone who had never had any experience with Mandarin before. It baffled him to know that Jisoo was fluent in four languages. She spoke Korean, Mandarin, English, Japanese and apparently ‘dabbled’ in Russian and Spanish. 

Meanwhile he struggled to make the word for his own people legible. 

 “I appreciate the effort, but honestly the best way to learn will be to walk around Beijing or Shanghai with me and read the signs.” Jisoo suggested. “Although we will spend most of our time in Singapore, so not too much to worry about since English is so common there.”

“I’m excited to go. It will be nice to meet your family and learn more about the culture.” Eren replied. “I just hope I make a good impression, there are a lot of customs and etiquette I don’t know yet.” He said. 

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about all that. When the time comes I’ll give you a hand, and I’m elated that you are eager to learn more!” She cooed and placed her hand on the table for him to step on. “Enough practice for today though. You need a break.” She told him. 

Effortlessly Eren did so, and leaned against her thumb for support as she rose from the counter. “How was the store?” He asked and bobbed up and down with the steps Jisoo took. 

“It was rather busy today so Mr. Wang was all over the place, but I did find the gochujang I needed for the sundubu-jjigae tonight.” She mentioned, and took a seat on the couch.

Jisoo’s home cooking was strictly vegetarian and employed extensive spices, chili pastes, and seasonings which she went to a local Asian grocer for. For most of Eren’s life, his meals were always very processed unless he braved a journey to a Brob restaurant and hoped he was not kicked out. Since he had moved in with Jisoo and ate mostly what she cooked, he had broadened his tastes considerably to be not only more varied, but much healthier.

I really want to cook for her just once. He thought remorsefully. Although she loved to cook and see his reaction to her dishes, Eren always felt guilty when she went through so much hassle for his sake. At least when he had his own income stream he could treat her to lunch every now and then and make it feel like their relationship was more ‘balanced’. 

In the mornings before her jog he would try to prepare her snack. It was difficult but he could just barely manage to use a gargantuan knife to slather some peanut or almond butter on bread or sling some boulder-like seeds and nuts into a plastic bag which would be ready for Jisoo when she was about to leave. If it saved her just a little bit of time and brought her even the slightest bit of joy when she saw it, then it was absolutely worth it. 

Jisoo sprawled across the couch and held Eren snuggled to her chest beneath a blanket. “What episode were we on again?” She asked and browsed the selections on her carousel of movies and tv shows until she found the k-drama they were both fond of. 

“Episode six if I’m not mistaken.” Eren recalled as Jisoo found the episode and hit play. “I still think Ki-jung was the killer, she clearly hated Mr. Choi.”

“Eh… I feel like that’s too obvious. More likely she’s a red herring.” Jisoo replied. 

Before the episode could begin, Eren felt a series of powerful vibrations from beneath the blanket. With his size, even something as banal as a notification on her phone felt like earthquakes. Jisoo fished it out from beneath the velvety blanket and checked who it was.

Immediately she rolled off the couch and placed him on top of the blanket. “I’ll be right back.” She told him and answered the call.

That seemed urgent. Eren thought as she hurried away. I hope everything is okay.

(Hours earlier)

The address that Claire had texted Thomas was a warehouse formerly owned by a shipping company that had been bought out years ago by a larger competitor. Since then it had been practically abandoned aside from the occasional vagrant. Secluded. Sheltered away from the city. The perfect place for a dead drop. 

Or a trap, Thomas surmised. 

It still looks deserted. He thought from the safety of a nearby boathouse which had served as Thomas’s lookout for the past few days he had staked the place out. For hours he would wait and watch to see if anybody came or left. Like watching for the eyes of crocodiles on the water’s surface at night, to see if any came up for air after several hours.

Not once had he seen another person enter or exit. No luxurious, unmarked black cars had come to investigate and determine whether or not he had checked the bait yet. As time went on, the less sure he was that something as obvious as several armed men awaited him inside. If so they would have surely made some kind of move by now since he was expected to arrive much earlier. 

Once more for his own piece of mind he checked the one thing he had taken from his parent’s house. His father’s old hunting rifle. Thomas had failed to acquire it to fend off the fox-faced assassin once, now if he encountered them or more he would have better protection. 

A single soldier against an unknown amount of hostiles, all potentially better armed and with a defender’s advantage. He thought and gripped the weapon tightly. I only hope it’s just the one.

The sun set on Norwich’s sea. Bright rays of light reflected off the water in beautiful colors of red, orange and purple. Once nightfall came the area became pitch black. Without any active street lights or dock workers to use lamps, the warehouse exterior and surrounding abandoned harbor was devoid of any light source except the moon. 

Thomas gave himself another thirty minutes to adjust to the dim conditions before he made his move. He had waited a full week to see if anything was suspicious around the warehouse and not seen anything out of the ordinary. It was time to act and see if Claire had indeed left anything. 

He moved quickly and kept low. His footsteps were astoundingly quiet despite the ground he covered in a short span of time. What Thomas lacked in battle experience in the military he made up for in years as a hunter to the north with his father. 

Follow the route you planned. Thomas thought as we weaved in between tight brick laden alleyways and courtyards on his way to the warehouse on the other side of the old harbor. For the past several days he had planned the optimal route to approach the warehouse that would provide the most cover from a gunman or a sniper. 

A cold sea breeze sent shivers down his spine. His eyes scanned over the cracked windows and ledges which might provide a sharpshooter with cover. Even after several hours not once could he locate anything with his own scope and figured out the best sight-lines long ago. 

Soon Thomas had arrived at the southern side of the warehouse exterior wall. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and scaled it as fast as he possibly could. A quick glance around before he jumped over confirmed his earlier observations that the inner courtyard of the warehouse was completely abandoned. 

No recent tire tracks in the snow. No footprints or anything like that. It seemed as abandoned as it should be all things considered. But even if Claire had told him the truth and she did leave a dead drop, wouldn’t there be signs of her entry? The warehouse had a gate which was from what he could tell locked. Perhaps the snow had covered her prints but still, shouldn’t there be some sign?

Moment of truth. Thomas thought and reached the warehouse proper. There was a loading dock intended for trucks and other large vehicles to deposit freight on the side of the building. Unfortunately it was sealed by a heavy chain and padlock. Shit, I can’t get this open. Unless…

The lock looked old and brittle. So close to the sea where it was exposed to a perpetual onslaught of salty seawater and frigid weather and taken its toll. He grit his teeth and used the butt of his rifle to smash it a few times until it broke. At the cost of deafening noise in the otherwise silent warehouse grounds. Once the lock was in pieces he heaved and raised the metal door off the concrete platform just enough to slide through and enter the dusty, moldy warehouse.

Empty? Thomas thought as he immediately shot back to his feet and scanned the interior. Aside from a few stray corrugated boxes, bits of rope and chain the entire facility seemed completely barren. Did I stake this place out all week for nothing? 

Still low to the earth, Thomas crept closer around the perimeter of the warehouse interior. He saw nothing of note until he noticed something beneath a stack of old cardboard, which caught his eye due to the bright color.

Perhaps not.

The parcel was in the center of the room, and although Thomas did not want to expose himself he was left with no choice. He walked slowly towards the toppled boxes and scrutinized the item more closely. Whatever it was, it had been wrapped in what appeared to be gift paper.

Thomas brushed the cardboard aside. What lay beneath it was a neatly wrapped gift box, complete with a bright pink bow and everything.  Attached to it was a small piece of folded paper.

‘For Tommy!’ It read mockingly, with a few hearts and smiley faces drawn next to the words.

With a perplexed expression, Thomas tossed the note aside and removed the festive paper. It was remarkably well wrapped and came apart very easily to reveal a small wooden box. 

*thump*

Thomas dropped the box in surprise when he felt movement inside the box through his fingers, and his heart all but jumped into his mouth. The box clattered to the concrete floor and split open on one side near the hinge. Instantly Thomas was on his feet and backed away, his rifle ready and aimed at the now open box.

For a moment he contemplated pulling the trigger and blasting the thing into smithereens, until he heard a faint, eerily familiar voice. “T-Tom…?” 

A speck crawled on her hands and knees to the aperture created by the damage taken by the prison. He recognized the voice and the general figure, but could not believe that it was the same person. If not for the tattoo and birthmark, Thomas would have never recognized her.

Or more accurately, what was left of her. So much of the woman's body looked molten, or melted away. Fingers, part of her leg and her face was disfigured. But there was no mistaking who it was by the platinum blonde hair and soft sea blue eyes full of suffering.

“Alice?!”