What the frick? Isn't he that guy from the mall?

Different versions of Melissa's own unspoken questions reflected on the face of the boy beside her and the one opposite them. The stranger's eyes narrowed but relaxed again seconds after he looked at her.

“Oh, you're the ga – the make up guy.” He pointed Jason, who turned an awfully unmistakable shade of red. “You really did do a great job. I didn't recognise you at all.”

“And you know him from where?” Dee eyed Jason with a slightly judgemental tilt to his head and the latter flushed even more.

“It was a disguise when I was looking for Tara,” he said quickly. “I'm not – I don't normally wear make up.”

I know how sensitive guys can get about the whole macho thing. Melissa resisted the urge to pat him on the shoulder. They had only just got back on good terms with each other. But isn't he a bit too defensive about it?

“It's okay, boi. We don't judge people here.” Lala's eyes glittered as she nudged the driver. “Right, Demmy?”

“Don't lie,” muttered the man who reminded her of a thin, grumpy squirrel. “Everyone here is a judgemental piece of sh-”

“That's not important.” Dee turned away from Jason. “I asked you a question, Ken.”

“We met at the shopping centre, captain.” Ken's posture somehow became even straighter.

“Which one?”

Why's he so angry? Melissa stopped herself from backing away.

“Westfield, sir.” Ken smiled faintly as if he didn't have an almost six foot, unimpressed army person standing over him.

“When?”

“Today, sir.”

“Why in the world were you in Westfield?”

Since their arrival, every single one of the agents seemed to have melded with the atmosphere of the building as if it could embraced them with its walls. The suspicion in Dee's eyes instantly flipped the switch on Ken and suddenly he seemed as out of place as her or Jason.

“I was on my break,” he said softly but the smile vanished.

“And the canteen wasn't good enough for you?” Dee shook his head. “You thought it was a good idea to leave base just because Tesco Express down the road isn't far enough?”

“I said he could go,” said Tasha. She let go of the stretcher and placed a hand against the door frame, body twisted to meet Dee's accusing stare. “He's worked just as hard as the rest of us to find Sinja. Maybe even harder. He deserved some time off.”

“We were in the middle of an operation.” growled Dee. “We don't get time off.”

Seriously, what's his problem? Melissa remained as still as she could as Tasha held his gaze unflinchingly. The tension coiled around her like a huge snake that smelled like her old house. Stale chips and grease. Stagnant water mixed with alcohol. A man's raised voice slipped beneath one of the doors in her memory followed by the shattering of glass and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. I don't even like Ken but we've only just got here. Does he have to start arguing straight away?

Jason lowered his index finger as if he had only just remembered what it had been doing. His bewildered frown deepened. What's he thinking now? I mean, it is kind of a weird that we were all in the same place at the same time but coincidences are a things. It's not like he was following or anything. She went over their meeting again but nothing stood out as suspicious. Maybe he just happened to look at us when my phone fell. Just because he picked it up that fast, it doesn't mean he was watching us.

“Aah, come on, Dee. Give the boi a break,” said Lala, waving a hand as his hostile attention shifted to her. “We already found Sinja so there's no need to make a big deal out of it, right?”

“Who's making a big de-?” Dee paused as Ken raised his hand like a confident child in class. “What?”

“I'd be happy to explain everything to you, captain.” He gestured at Sinastar. “But may I check on your friend first? I'm sure his well-being is much more important to you than whatever I was doing in Westfield.”

“Are you getting smart with me, kid?”

“Someone's got to.” Tasha smiled viciously as Dee glared at her.

“No, captain.” Ken's gaze lowered to rest on Sinastar's face. “But he doesn't look well and it wouldn't be smart to waste time when I could be tending to him instead.”

Dee sucked his teeth but seemed to remember they had an audience. “Okay. We'll talk later.”

Melissa cringed at the infamous authority figure threat and Jason echoed the sentiment with a backward roll of his shoulders.

“Thank you, captain.” Ken stepped back to let then wheel the stretcher into the room. It looked like a semi cosy hospital room with pale yellow walls and a soft ash wardrobe in one corner, parallel to the doorway. An ultrasound machine and a heart monitor stood at the other end of the room next to a small window along with medical trolley. Ken gestured at a space between the two machines. “You can put him there.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Dee, Tasha, and Lala moved stretcher into position and kicked down its brakes while Ken turned on the machines and pulled them closer the bed. They moved back and stood in a disorganised semi circle to watch as he arranged wires around the side rails and started to unbutton Sinastar's shirt. Jason moved as if he were about to protest but Ken shielded Sinastar's exposed skin with the blanket as he smeared gel across it and kept him covered like an expert, rolling the transducer up, down, and side to side.

“Someone shot him?” He glanced quickly at Dee.

“What?” Their captain stepped forward but Ken held him back with a raised hand. “Where?”

“It could be old scarring. There isn't any surface damage,” said the younger of the two at once. “I'll double check.”

A semi-polite, inscrutable blankness fixed his features in place as he turned back to Sinastar but Jason's eyes narrowed before he shared a surprisingly long look with her. Shouldn't we tell him Spy was shot? Otherwise he might not know how to help him properly. He shook his head and the idea of him reading her mind made her brain tingle in a faintly unpleasant way. Aaaah, he probably doesn't want to tell them about that zai magic stuff.

After several terse minutes, during which Ken fixed electrodes to Sinastar's chest and checked the beeping monitor that tracked his heart rate, blood pressure and other vital signs, he turned to them.

“I'll need time to investigate the ultrasound results but his vitals are stable, captain,” he said. “For now, I think he just needs to rest and maybe an IV too. Should I get the medics?”

“Lala can call them,” said Dee. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can tell.” He tucked the bedsheet around Sinastar and switched on a small fan heater sitting atop the trolley, pulling it closer to him. “Did you need me to check anything else?”

“No. The medics can do the rest.” Dee turned to Judy. “We'll let them look him over and then let him rest. Is that okay with you, ma'am?”

“I don't suppose we can do anything else,” she said slowly.

She's so tough. Melissa rubbed the goosebumps on her arms. I hope he doesn't pick on me like that.

“Good, then let's get on with the debriefing.” Dee spoke to Lala before she could protest. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner they can all go home. Tasha, you take the kid and her mamma to your room until I'm done with the therapist.”

“My room?” Tasha squinted at him and her arms stayed folded as she stopped leaning against the wall.

“Yeah. Unless you all want to hang out in mine.” Dee's patience, already worn down, finally ran out completely. “We don't have time to set up new quarters for people who aren't going to be here that long.”

“I can take them,” said Lala. She smiling at Melissa as if she thought the fifteen year old were about to burst into tears. “Tasha can call the medics.”

“No, it's fine,” said Tasha with a grimace poorly disguised as a wry smile. “I'm sure I can manage mummy and her little girl for a few hours, as long as they don't start trying to paint my nails.”

Demmy snorted softly opposite her but pretended he hadn't, folding his arms across his chest and lowering his gaze. Melissa jumped and couldn't remember how long he had been leaning back on the wall behind her.

“I don't have any colours that'd suit you anyway,” she said, gulping when they all looked at her. “Just – Just light blue. And pink. And clear –”

They don't care. Her stomach spun in circles like an excited puppy. They just waiting to see how long it takes for me to realise how stupid I sound.

“What about me?” asked Jason and the eyes shifted to him. “I don't mind staying here with Sin.”

“Change of plans. I'll speak to you first.” Dee glanced at Judy. “You can go with Tasha for now, ma'am. Ken, he'll be bunking with you tonight so get a bed ready.”

“Yes, captain,” said Ken.

Jason grunted at the same time. “With him?”

“We can set up something else later.” Dee's tone tightened again. “Lala, I'll leave the medics to you. Dem –”

The driver's gaze snapped away from Sinastar. “Huh?”

“Do whatever you want but leave Sinja alone.”

“What're you talking about?” he mumbled, rubbing his brow frantically, but he turned towards their unconscious companion instead of away from him.

Almost simultaneously, everyone else did the same thing. Though each of their eyes told a different story, the agents all seemed to share one thing.

They all really like him. Melissa almost looked away from their momentarily unguarded expressions. They were like people basking in the warmth of a fire that had finally returned to their cold room. As if his steady breathing, punctuated by intermittent beeps from the heart monitor, was a gentle song in the middle of a lonely night. They'd never do anything to hurt him. Actually, it's more like they'd do anything to keep him safe. I don't even want to think about what they'd do to anyone who tries to hurt him.

Jason and Judy also had their eyes on Sinastar but both seemed very aware of the abrupt change in mood. Especially Judy, who rubbed her throat as if the agent's affection were a barbed wire wrapped around it. Melissa remembered just how hostile Satara had been towards their family friend and her own throat tightened beneath an invisible hand. There's no way she did anything bad to Spy, right. She loves him.

“Okay. Let's do this.” Dee's sharp voice dragged them from their brief collective trance and his forehead scrunched up again. He clicked his fingers at Jason as if the boy were a dog and headed for the doorway. “Come on, kid. Time to tell me everything from the beginning.”

“Okaaay.” Jason swallowed as if he had been asked to sing a solo during assembly and glanced back at Sinastar, alone in the rapidly emptying room, as he followed the man out.

I don't know him. Either of them, really. But even I don't want to go. Melissa followed his gaze and knew she wasn't the only one.

Does Spy know how special he is?

<><><><><>

“Sooo how long have you known Sin then?” asked Jason as Dee led him down yet another corridor.

The silence threatened to crush his skull like a pea between its huge fingertips. I should be used to this. Tara's my best friend. He was fairly sure the angry agent would ignore him.

“Since he was about fourteen.”

“Oh, you've known him for a while then, huh?” Fourteen? That means they met him after Saytarnia wiped out the rest of the clan. “How'd you meet him?”

“Hey, kid, I'm the one who's supposed to be asking questions here.” Dee opened the door of a small office with a round table and two chairs next to the wall on their left. “Not you.”

“But you haven't started debriefing me yet so it's okay, right?” Jason's grin and upraised finger curled in on itself beneath Dee's unblinking stare. “Sorry.”

“He fought in the same tournament as us.” He gestured at the seat closest to the door and collected a folder from the desk at the furthest end of the room before sitting opposite Jason. “And came here to join us soon after. Somehow he got into our eighteen to twenty five year old bracket.”

Did he link up with these guys just to get into the country and find Tara? Jason struggled to keep the information far away from his face. Obviously it worked but do they know that? They know about Tara so maybe they do.

“Cool – wait, a tournament?” Images of cage fights and fancy red boxing gloves flipped past his mind's eye along with the wild roars of an excited crowd. “What tournament?”

“Some international one.” Dee sighed and turned several papers over until he reached a blank sheet. “Us agents can take part in them if our scores are good enough. You get to experience different combat styles there and, if you do well out there, you get to go out into the field sooner.”

Wow, he's actually telling me stuff I want to know. Jason crossed his hands on the tabletop and squeezed his wrist to contain himself. “A global fighting tournament? Like in Tekken?”

Dee looked up at him with an irritated glint below his furrowed eyebrows. “What the hell is Tekken?”

“Uh. It's a game.” He coughed. “So where did they hold the tournament –?”

“That's classified.” Dee clicked the end of his ballpoint pen and placed its now visible nib against the page. “Enough questions. Start talking.”

“Okay.” Jason pulled his joined hands off the table and into his lap. Looks like I spoke too soon. I wonder who won that tournament …

<><><><><>

The medics checked Sinastar over and brought in a more comfortable bed for him. They inserted a cannula into his arm and attached an IV bag filled with saline to it before checking the position of his electrodes and confirming the room temperature was satisfactory.

Several minutes after they left the room, Ken stepped out from the narrow space between the slim wardrobe and the wall, rubbing the back of his hand against his face as he stopped beside the bed. The young man lying supine in front of him had changed. Time had hardened some of his features but had been unable to rob him of the distinct curve of cheekbones. His hands, folded upon his chest like those of an Asian vampire, were larger than he remembered but he had a feeling they still hesitated to inflict damage.

He slipped a hand behind Sinastar's head and removed his hairband, arranging his hair so it lay flat on the pillow around his head instead of in a painful bump beneath it. The red material folded between the nails of his index and forefinger as the other's scent reminded him of magnolia flowers and sent him back several years.

The gentle touch of tatami mats. Slanted dark eyes all around. Coloured clothing – red and gold, blue and green, black and white – formed indisputable sets that both separated people and helped them feel like they belonged. Ken placed a hand against his chest and breathed to slow the rapid pulse beneath it, then curled the last two fingers into his palm.

“It looks like you still trust people too easily,” he said softly, bowing at the waist. “Master Sinastar.”