As she had planned, Hazel rose at dawn the next morning and descended the stairs from Peter’s flat before he had left his room. If his alarm went off and woke him, it served him right for basically locking her in his house. No audible alarm sounded, and though she paused on the street trying to decide what she actually intended to do, Peter did not come after her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the frosty air, cleansing her lungs from the stagnation of captivity.
Maybe Pete had not intended to hold her captive, but he basically had. Until she stood on that sidewalk, she had not let herself admit it. She broke into a slow jog, heading back to her own apartment. The frigid air promised at least a light snow, and she was not dressed appropriately for the cold. She ducked her head against the wind. Whatever she intended, she would stop by her place and grab some better clothes. Glancing back and forth to make sure she didn’t have any more encounters with Queue cars, she aimed her step directly to her building entrance.
Without warning, Aurelius Martins materialized from behind a Queue box just as she mounted the first step of her apartment building. For an instant, her heart lifted, but she clamped down on the irrational sensation. Despite her intentions of the night before, his sudden appearance rattled her. First, she was held captive, and now she was hunted?
As if in answer to her thoughts, Rel approached her on a tear, his face obviously intent on getting to her before she made it up the stairs. Behind her anxiety rose anger – probably misplaced, and to her great surprise, she turned to shove Rel away from her as he approached. A stupid idea, she realized in retrospect, since, as a government agent, he had no doubt trained in actual combat. Not to mention that he was the size of the Empire State Building.
Instead of shoving him off the step, she found her hands arrested by him in their motion. He was still taller than she was even standing a step below her.
“Ms. Trace?” he demanded, softening his expression when he recognized her upset.
Glaring at him, Hazel refused to answer.
“Look, Ms. Trace, I’m sorry for advancing on you like that – I just wanted to talk to you. I wasn’t planning to restrain you or anything, but you tried to shove me.”
“I tried to knock you down the stairs. How do you even know where I live?” she accused. Where had that statement come from? Knock him down the stairs? Most of her sarcasm had snuffed out since her father had died, and its return prodded at a familiar itch that begged scratching.
Rel smiled at her defiance. “I’m an NCB agent. It’s called surveillance, and you can contact Veronique Garrison in my office to verify that I’m legit.”
“That’s helpful. One person to vouch for you? So, who is she? Someone you paid to wait around and offer five-star reviews for Aurelius Martins?”
Laughing, Rel shook his head. “So you know my name. You checked me out?”
“Peter checked you out. You were stalking me.”
“Maybe he’s a little biased against me.” Rel flashed Hazel a smile, and she rolled her eyes just to find a way to look away.
What did that mean? That somehow Peter was threatened by Rel? “Laughable,” Hazel finished her thought aloud. “You are not important enough to Peter to consider.”
“But you are,” Rel insisted, and the look he leveled at Hazel communicated the consideration Rel attributed to Pete.
“You’re not going to get to Peter through me. I know what it looked like last night, but Peter has a lot more important things to deal with than to worry too much about me.”
Get to Peter? “Look,” Rel changed the subject. “I’m not trying to stalk you – and I’m not interested in Peter. I am researching your friend, Manny. Due to the controversial nature of my case, that’s really all I can offer. But look…” He released her arms and stepped back from the stairway, spreading his arms wide in surrender to give her a clear path to escape him. “If you don’t want to help, I understand. If I’ve made a mess of things, I get that, too. But you would help me a lot – and maybe help Manny – if you can think of anything about what might have happened to him.”
Though it hadn’t hurt at all, she rubbed her wrists where he had held them.
“Are you okay?” he worried. Hazel just shrugged, not ready to let him off the hook. “I really am sorry,” he continued. “I was thinking about my case, and I’ve been here for two hours, so when I saw you-”
“You came here at five o’clock in the morning?”
“I kind of get focused when I’m searching down a lead,” Rel grimaced. “I’m working a case, and I think you might know something about it…Can I just ask you a few questions?”
Instead of answering, Hazel just nodded her head and seated herself on the steps, resting her chin in her hand. Rel seated himself by her, and though she had expected him to “focus,” he struck out on an unexpected path.
“I really didn’t like leaving you last night,” he offered, his face under his bleached yellow hair squished into a strange expression of concern. “It’s kind of in my job description to protect people, and even though you looked really scared, I just abandoned you there. Honestly I think I was a little intimidated by Peter Donovan.”
The thought of a man that size finding anyone else intimidating brought a snicker to Hazel’s lips. Still, she reined it in, turning to Rel with an accusatory glare. “I was scared of you.”
Unconvinced, Rel gazed at her with skepticism. “No - you weren’t. I’ve seen the look too many times not to recognize it. But if you say you were okay, then that’s not really any of my business. Just know that I’m here to help.”
“Since that is not your business, as you so adeptly put it, what is your business? Why are you here?” she demanded.
He shook his head. “I can see you don’t trust me. Would you feel more comfortable talking to Veronique? I know my height is a little off-putting.”
“Your height is not the problem.” Hazel rolled her eyes impatiently. “Just ask your stupid questions. I have things to do.”
Gloveless, Rel rubbed his hands together, blowing on them for warmth as he peered out at the passing Queue cars. “Can we go anywhere that’s warmer? That coffee shop, for instance.” He pointed across the street.
Without a word, Hazel rose and started toward the little café. Rel stood gratefully.
“So, ask,” Hazel commanded as they walked.
“I need to know about Donald Yates.”
Hazel’s step stuttered, suddenly remembering why she had contacted Peter the night before. Even though Rel worked for the government, it spooked her that he knew her real name, that he knew about her friends.
“Donnie?” she wondered.
“What was your relationship with him? Was he a coworker? Your boyfriend?”
Hazel tossed him a glare as he pulled open the coffee shop door.
“He was none of those. I hope you didn’t put me through all of this so you could ask me out.”
For the first time since she had met him, Rel broke into a full grin, and Hazel forced herself to look away – he was way too charming for safety. “I haven’t tried anything this dramatic to get a girl since high school,” he assured her, nodding to a barista as he led Hazel to a table.
Despite herself, Hazel’s lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. “You didn’t answer me,” she pointed out.
“This is not about asking you out.” The smile stayed. “Though if I knew you better, I’m not saying I wouldn’t have. Just not this way…” He was babbling. “But I’m just trying to find out information about Donnie. Do you like lattes?”
Hazel huffed a laugh at his awkwardness. “Sprinkled with cinnamon, please.”
Rel accessed the Wire to order then returned his attention to Hazel. “So are you Hazel, or are you Austen Trace?”
“Am I required to answer that?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Not yet, though if I need your testimony, I will also need to know who is testifying. And, of course, I would like to know.”
“Everyone calls me Hazel. Peter does, my best friend, Sophie, does. My classmates at dance do. I’m Hazel.”
Unperturbed, Rel leaned his chin on his hand and stared at Hazel. She was so surprising! “You dance?”
“For fun. Do you always have this much trouble sticking to business?”
Rel sat up and ran his hand through his inexplicably sun-bleached waves of hair. When had the sun shone enough in NAmdam to do that? “I’m sorry,” he chattered. “I haven’t been in the field in over a year, and I am woefully out of practice.”
“Woefully,” Hazel smirked, and Rel huffed a relieved laugh.
“Yes, woefully. I basically got kicked out of being an analyst – which I absolutely love – because I can’t let go of this case. So, I am kind of here with only the tacit nod of approval and encouragement from one higher-up in my organization - and I could really use your help.”
Finally, the knot of anxiety from the past twenty-four hours had begun to unwind from inside Hazel. Even with all her suspicions, something about Rel calmed her, and after the night she had experienced, she needed calm. Peering up at the line of the ceiling over Rel’s head, she rested her chin in her hands.
“I hardly know Donnie,” she admitted, moving her eyes to the tabletop. “I played with him on Trip, but he’s dropped out. I’m sorry I don’t know anything else.”
“I wanted to ask you last night: what is Trip?”
“Tripartite, my game.”
When he looked confused, Hazel explained. “I’m a gamer. I play games.”
“For a living?”
“Yes,” Hazel scoffed, defensive.
“No disrespect,” Rel corrected. “I’ve been watching gameplay since I was a kid, though I haven’t watched since I joined the Bureau. Props to you. I just had no idea. Tripartite you say?”
“Yes, known as Trip to the players.”
“Axis or Allied Tripartite.”
“Both, actually.” Hazel had to admit to herself; she was impressed. Most people remembered little history, much less what had happened almost two hundred years in the past. “There are different options for team members based on which group you choose, Axis or 1936. I’m in 1936.”
“Very cool,” Rel gaped. “So, it’s a shooter game?”
“Alternate reality,” Hazel corrected. “We use magic and ranged attacks to subvert historical events, change the course of the war.”
“Very cool,” he repeated, and Hazel found herself grinning. Rel looked like a very tall little kid, his eyes all sparkling excitement.
“Anyway, so I met Manny – sorry, Donnie, whose Trip name is Manticore – a couple of years ago, and we went on a date. That didn’t work out, but ever since, he’s been my tank for Free City.”
“Free City of Danzig?” Rel exclaimed.
To his surprise, Hazel blushed. “You’ve heard of it? It’s actually Free City of Tanzen…play on words because I dance, and that’s what Tanzen means – dancing. It was just me at the beginning, so I got to make up the name. I always called it Free City, so no one thought to change it.”
“Pretty obscure reference.”
“I’m a pretty obscure person,” Hazel leveled, and Rel just shook his head. Hazel Hops was an unusual girl, but a good kind of unusual.
“Manny went MIA a few weeks ago,” she continued, “just in time for a big tournament that is coming up. I sent him a thousand messages, begged him to come back, called him a Rexist, told him I would sell his tag – none of which I could or would do, but I was trying to get him to answer…”
“Sexist?”
“Ha, Rexist – another obscure reference, but pretty common in Trip. It’s the Nazi party in Belgium, as pathetic as the German Nazis but with the added stupidity of being totally irrelevant. It’s an insult in Trip, reserved for when you are actually mad at someone. It means you’re either a coward or useless.”
“You guys are crazy.” Rel shook his head, amused.
Shrugging smugly, Hazel raised the corners of her mouth infinitesimally.
“I’m surprised anyone wants to play the Nazis…” he continued.
“Well,” Hazel smiled at him from under her lashes. “That’s because you obviously have studied history.” Her demeanor turned sober. “This all happened about two hundred years ago. For these guys, Hitler is just like Genghis Khan or Pharoah. He managed a great empire, conquered powerful territories, had a grand vision. The players want the power in the game – the large majority don’t care at all what the man’s ideology was. There are always fringe groups on both sides, but they are not really a factor in the game. They tend to get banned anyway.”
“Still bothers me…”
“Me, too,” Hazel agreed. “But it lets me feel pretty good when I take down a Prefecture. Team play is different than role play. I can get weapons and equipment by myself in the role play arena, but I need a team for the tournament. I haven’t found a new tank yet.”
Despite the serious aspect of the conversation, Rel had to work to tamp down on his enthusiasm about her occupation. “I’m really sorry to tell you…Donnie is in some kind of medical distress. A week or so before you went to his apartment, he was carried out on a stretcher accompanied by several doctors and nurses. His parents won’t talk to me, so…that’s why I was looking for you. I saw you at his apartment.”
“So, you were monitoring Donnie?” She ignored the confirmation of her conjecture.
“Not so much monitoring. I realized that he might be a source - trying to get to his dad, really. Mr. Yates is completely unwilling to talk, but I thought Donnie might give me some idea what had happened with an incident in my investigation. Instead, I found out that a day or so before the incident, Donnie was carted out of his room on a stretcher.”
“The only reason I could imagine someone watching me was because of Peter – not that Peter would allow that to happen...But if it’s about Manny - I only tracked him down because I needed a tank. I hadn’t seen him in person in forever.”
“So, I guess this is a dead end.”
“But if I think of anything, I’ll contact you.”
“Hazel,” Rel urged, and Hazel found her eyes drawn by his intensity to look into his. They were a strange combination of colors, dark brown on the outside, lightening to a transparent green in the middle. “I meant what I said before. I’m one of those stupid people who gets a hunch and then believes it, so I’m serious. If you need help, call me. I don’t exactly get what happened last night…”
That makes two of us, Hazel agreed silently.
“But it just seemed like – I mean, nothing. Just, contact me if you need help, or if you’re uncomfortable with that, contact Veronique.”
Standing to her feet, Hazel nodded. “Gotcha.”
When Rel stood to his feet, Hazel grinned again - his height completely filled the space in the tiny café.
“Would you feel weird if I watched your game?” he wondered. “I mean, you broadcast, right? Since you said you’re a gamer, I assume you get paid for it, and you broadcast for sponsors.”
Scrunching her nose, Hazel laughed awkwardly. “I guess that’s okay,” she allowed. “No one has ever asked me before, and I don’t actually know anyone in my audience except my best friend, Sophie, who also plays. My group is small. A couple hundred thousand. But yeah, I’ll message a link to you. Just don’t try to talk to me while I’m playing.”
Rel broke into his charming smile again, and Hazel dropped her eyes, irritated that she liked him. “Bye,” she offered lamely before heading out the door.
“Thanks!” he called behind her.
Is it against policy to date a witness? Rel messaged Veronique, half in jest.
At this point, you don’t have any witnesses because you don’t have a case. So I wouldn’t worry about it too much.
Rel laughed to himself. I don’t think she’s interested, he leveled. But I’ve kind of got a celebrity crush.
We are definitely going to have to unpack that one when you get back to the office.
Instead of rushing back to have the conversation, Rel sat down to finish his cup of coffee. She wouldn’t even admit her real name, but he really liked Hazel Hops.
+++++++++++++
When Peter awakened that morning, Hazel had left his apartment. Her quick exit threw a pretty big wrench in his plans - Peter didn’t have time to worry about Hazel, and chasing her down would require time away from the Deconstruction. Still, he couldn’t afford to do nothing. The very thing that made her valuable made her unpredictable – she didn’t have a Wire.
Peter couldn’t miss the look that man from the NCB had given him, and in defense of Hazel. My Hazel, Peter simmered. As if she had needed protection from Peter. And when she had turned back to the man? Suddenly, Peter had come to the realization that Hazel wasn’t actually his.
It was a strange sensation, something he hadn’t experienced in quite a while. For the past several years, if Peter had wanted something, he had it. Of course, he remembered the rest of his life before the Bridge. Back then, he had made time for two things: half the time traveling around with his brother to compete, and when he was home and not training, sitting in his room so he could master coding and computer tech.
In Peter’s mind, though, that was a different person, a lifelike dream. Since the Crash, he had lived the life of someone else. Whatever the consequence to Hazel, she had been his anchor in that spaceless, timeless age when his entire universe had disjointed, and on some level, he believed that if she disappeared or altered, his new world would evaporate.
Unfortunately, for the moment he had no guarantee that she would stay. He had just taken her for granted. What defensible right did he have to insist that she stay away from the NCB man – or from anyone else, for that matter? He could ask Chad to get the agent fired, but there was still too much time before launch, and targeting an NCB agent would set of literal alarms at the Bureau. Once the Deconstruction stood less than a week away – if Martins turned out to be trouble – Peter could choose any manner of options to deal with the agent.
Of course, if Hazel had a Wire, Peter could have figured out a virtual method to hold her to him, some hormonal stimulus that attached her as much as he was attached – a dependence he resented. Without a Wire, though, Peter only had a small arsenal of options to attach her to him. Manipulation, coercion,…or romance, probably utilizing both of the other options.
Peter could manage either of the first two options alone, if necessary, but they would change the stability Peter had come to require. Either would eventually drive Hazel away, and he intended the opposite. Maybe more than anything else, Peter needed his independence, but considering that the strategy brewing in his mind at the moment was to ensure himself that his anchor would stick around, independence took a back seat to necessity.
If the possibility that she would interest a man bothered Peter, another thought bothered him more. Another man wasn’t the only threat to his relationship with her; what would happen if she found out the truth about the Deconstruction, about what he had planned and about what he was doing? Her actions the prior day brought that possibility into a very real light. What had Hazel been doing across the river in that neighborhood? The chances that she had encountered the Blueprint, much less triggered a defense, seemed infinitesimal, but what else would have sent a Queue car spinning out like that? It was Peter’s defense, but he had never considered it might be needed against Hazel. She had already been caught in the Sophie incident, and that had triggered Peter to make her stay with him that night. How he wished he could read her mind!
Despite all his angst, the thought brought a smile to his lips.
It was the fact that Peter couldn’t read her mind that made her so interesting – and so indispensable.
In the meantime, Peter would speed the completion of his plans, set things up so there would be little to do when the day arrived. And he would start thinking of ways to make sure Hazel moved to his house permanently. Reaching to the screen, he zoomed in on the symbol on the lower left side. He had some work to do.