Snow drifted lazily around Martinez, the first snowfall this year in Draun. Celna had been under snowpack for weeks, but in this massive city, this was untimely late. Each fresh flake glowed like embers in the evening light, burning just like the Human's ragged breath.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Martinez barked at a group of aliens, ordering them to make a hole or get barreled through.

This group took the warning of the two-meter-tall man to hearty and skittered away like rats, allowing him to pass.

Those were the smart ones; not all had that many survival instincts. Martinez had crashed through a group of Ruqaura, their flabby builds jiggling as they fell to the duracreet and cursed his existence.

Fuck them; they did not matter, nor did the abject panic Martinez was stirring up in his wake. The Human certainly was causing a scene in the otherwise serene city. Whether the aliens thought he was being chased, was a crazy nutter on the loose, or that he was a deranged rapist, he did not care.

They could think he was a serial killer or a terrorist for all he cared. All Martinez cared about was reaching Shiksie and ensuring she had not done the unthinkable.

By the time Martinez had reached Shiksies posh neighborhood, sweat was flooding off his brow; on her front lawn, he nearly collapsed from vomiting, having just run the fastest he had done in years. Fuck even Raliegh could not hold a candle to the show of speed and athletics Martinez had demonstrated, and that man ran ultra marathons.

Through blurry vision, Martinez looked up at Shiksie’s house. It was as spartan as the last time he was here. The house showed off the owner's simple, straightforward personality, a bold defiance of the bright pastels and gaudily decorated homes of her neighbors.

At least the house had not changed.

Pounding on the door with hammer-like fists, Martinez roared into the gloom. “Shiksie, are you there?”

The milliseconds dragged out into hours; each breath dagged into eternity. With each passing eon, Martinez repeated the process with more desperation, beating the door as if it owed him money.

Each repetition drew on more of the same. A silence so deafening it crushed Martinez’s soul like an ant.

“Please, if you are in there, answer the door,” Martinez barked, punching the door hard enough that his knuckles bled. “I need to know you are alive.”

With no answer coming from inside, Martinez changed tactics. Between savage attacks on the door, he sent texts to everyone both he and Shiksie knew, trying to get any sitrep on her.

No one had any answers for him. They did not know if Shiksie was alright, nor had they seen her in well over a week. That only compounded his worry. Did they not care about her?

` Therein—Nothing, he did not even want to talk to anyone.

Sursee—Nothing other than word that she did not know.

Harsnis, of all people, also had no answers, and that man kept tight tabs on his workers.

What in God's name was going on?

The only one who gave Martinez more than sorrowful nothingness was Ivorn.

Ivorn: Come over to my place; we need to talk.

Considering that beating Shiksies' door was getting him nowhere, and Martinez was not about to break in, he hurried out of Shiksies' neighborhood, destined for Ivorn and Sursees' place in old town.

Martinez glanced over his shoulder, hoping to see Shiksie at her door, but no. All he saw were the neighbors peering from behind curtains at him. He ignored them.

—-

“Henry, it’s great to see you,” Sursee purred after opening the door to her and Ivorns' place.

Sursee was a Prinoral, a small feline-like species that was sociable beyond belief. Like many of her species, Sursee stood only as tall as Martinez’s chest and had traits that made her as cute as a button.

Sursee wore a long, draping dress held loosely around her dainty form. Its bright white color made her golden fur and amber hair stand out boldly. Her radar dish-like cat ears and long flicking tail made her the picturesque housecat-like woman.

“Please, come on in,” Sursee said, stepping abreast of the door and bidding his entry.

“Thanks, Sursee,” Martinez replied, entering and taking stock of their home, having never been here before.

Stolen novel; please report.

Their apartment was quaint and comforting. Most surfaces and furnishings were colors like autumn, oranges, yellows, and browns, giving the space an overwhelmingly comfortable vibe. That matched with what smelled like freshly baked pumpkin pie, making the entire local breathtaking.

A menagerie of plushies was staged on shelves across the astel, adding splashes of vibrant summer to the otherwise warm home.

Martinez had no doubt the plushies were Sursee’s. She was a little ball of sunshine, and they fit her personality and aesthetic to a T.

“So, Henry, can I get a hug?” Sursee asked, her tail swaying happily behind her while she smiled as bright as sunlight.

“Not now. Where is Ivorn,” Martinez replied instantly.

Sursee pouted, her ears folding flat and tail tucking away. Any semblance of joy that overflowed from her died instantly.

Martinez appreciated that Sursee was listening to Ivorn's advice and not latching onto him like a heat leech, asking first. But he had not registered the sorrow in her—-this was the only time she had been told no to a hung from him. She expected it at this point, even if she was being polite.

“Ive is in his office,” Sursee said, pointing down the hallway.

Before Sursee registered that Martinez had moved, she turned around and picked up a plate of steaming cookies off the coffee table, hoping to help Maetinez feel better. While she did not know the man intimately, she was flawless at gauging emotions, and Martinez oozed sorrow.

“Would you want some—” Sursee trailed off, realizing the Human had already left her alone in the living room.

If pouting harder could be done, she did so. His leaving her like that felt like ice to the soul. She baked the cookies for him once Ivorn had told her Martinez was coming over. But the Human did not care about that or Sursee’s feelings.

Opening the indicated door, Martinez found Ivorn lounging behind a desk, reading a book with a massive smile across his face.

“What do we need to talk about?” Martinez asked.

Ivorn jumped at the intrusion and squirreled the book away. Not having expected Martinez for several hours. “Do you not know how to knock?”

“Where is she?” Martinez asked, ignoring everything but Shiksie.

Ivorn sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Not even a hello, huh? I get it.” Ivorn said. “Sit,” he finished by gesturing at a seat across from him.

Martinez was about to argue and tell Ivorn to get to the point, but the alien man could read him like a book and beat him to the punch.

“I get you are likely upset, but can I please explain,” Ivorn insisted.

“Fine,” Martinez grumbled and sat down, knowing this was the only way he would get any answers.

Over the next few minutes, Ivorn calmly explained what had happened with Shiksie after he head left. According to Ivorn, once Martinez had left Shiksie in her house, she drank; drank to the point it was nearly lethal.

By the time Ivorn had arrived, she was three beers deep and was about to have liver failure. If not for Martinez telling Ivorn she would have died. Following that, Shiksie spent several days in the ICU, needing it to not die.

After Shiksie was out of the ICU, she vanished, never showing up to work again. The director also told Ivorn not to mention anything that happened between Martinez and Shiksie to anyone, along with instructions to funnel the human to the Director once he returned.

“So you don’t know where she is?” Martinez said.

“No, I don’t,” Ivorn admitted.

“Then why the fuck am I here? I need to find her,” Martinez replied, standing up and heading toward the door.

“No, you are not,” Ivorn barked, stopping Martinez. “The director made it clear. The only reason you were not fired, and she was not in jail, was because Shiksie left.”

Martinez turned around and glared at Ivorn, knowing damn well what the director had pulled his friend into—a cover-up. Things like that were all to common in the Military and large corporations. It was easier to hush things up than face the reality of what happened. ;

“So for your own sake. Forget about her,” Ivorn sighed.

“Forget her! What the fuck are you on about. She is my friend; I have to help her,” Martinez argued, stepping forward and leaning on the desk with both hands. “She needs help.”

“Oh, does she? I dont think she does. You just want to feel better after having made her nearly kill herself.” Ivorne challenged with a growl—the last two weeks of having to hold his emotions overflowing.

Ivorn might like Martinez as a friend, but Shiksie deserved more than this. She was kind, a bit aloof, but for Kilera’s sake, why did she have to fall in love with a detestable asshole who thought he could solve everything alone.

Martinez paused and was taken aback by the challenge. Of course, he wanted to help her. Shiksie was his friend, mentor, and a woman he lov—er liked dearly. This was not about him but her.

“Are you high? I want to make sure she is OK,” Martinez replied, pointing at Ivorn.

“Oh, shut the fuck up and stop grandstanding,” Ivorn replied, standing to his full height. Usually, Ivorn, due to his gorilla-like build and posture, only stood as tall as Martinez. But at his full grandeur—he nearly touched the ceiling. “If you gave a fuck about her, you would have asked for help with her. You would not have gone into her house, knowing damn well she loved you.”

Ivorn stepped around the desk and jammed a finger into Martinez’s chest. “Now you have the fucking gall to think she needs you? How about you face reality and understand you fucked up and can't fix it.”

“Woah Ivor—” Martinez started backing up, but his friend persisted.

“How about you get that you are not some infallible bastion? What you have done has caused so many issues. My friend and mentor is gone; now we all have to suffer because you just had to not say no!” Ivorn growled, nearly pressing Martinez to the wall.

“We all like you. Sursee, Shiksie, Therein, Harnsis, fuck even me. But dude, you fucked up and have just to let bad enough die,” Ivorn said, backing up and giving Martinez some room. “Just go talk to the director in the morning. He will tell you the same.”

Martinez was going to argue to assure Ivorn he could fix this. But Sursee stepping into the room deflated any tension between the two.

“Can you two not yell at each other?” Sursee asked.

Ivorn turned to Sursee, returning to his usual leisurely posture. “Don’t worry about it, Sursee. Henry was just leaving. Right?” Ivorn said, looking at Martinez, his last shred of patience visible.

“Yeah. I am,” Martinez said, slipping past Sursee, who, for her lovable part, tried to reach out and grab him, but Ivorn stopped her and shook his head.

Martinez stormed out of the house and went toward his own, refusing to believe that he could do nothing to fix this. There was always something he could do. He just did not know the answer yet.

Without a doubt, even if he had to sell his soul to the devil, Martinez knew he would find Shiksie and make this all ok.

It just would take him time, effort, blood, and tears.