Vargas stepped out of the restaurant, adjusting his coat against the gentle breeze that flowed through the brightly lit streets of the city. The air here was cleaner than most places he visited, with the usual smog of industrial worlds replaced by a faint floral scent—perhaps from the well-kept gardens scattered between towering skyscrapers.

The streets bustled with people, both locals and off-worlders, all wrapped in the futuristic elegance that defined this metropolis. Hover cars zipped by in well-organized traffic streams, and sleek, automated trams gilded silently above.

Vargas enjoyed walking in new cities, observing the differences in architecture and culture, even when most cities across the galaxy had their similarities—tall glass structures, neon advertisements, and a constant hum of technology. But here, the opulence stood out. Giant holo-billboards advertised the latest starships, luxury vacations to distant nebulae, and state-of-the-art weaponry for those who could afford it.

As he walked, Vargas noted the extravagant shops that lined the street.

High-end jewelry stores with crystal-clear windows displayed rare gems from across the galaxy. Designer boutiques offered clothes made from fabrics woven on distant worlds, shimmering with patterns that adjusted to the wearer's mood or surroundings.

He didn't need any of that, though. His wardrobe was already extensive, and the elite style never appealed to him.

The architecture itself was a marvel of engineering and artistic ambition. Skyscrapers twisted and curved in impossible shapes, with entire sections of buildings seemingly suspended in mid-air. Transparent skywalks connected these towering giants, where well-dressed citizens and corporate elites moved from one luxury establishment to another.

As he continued his stroll, he found a small shop tucked between two massive buildings. The shop's sign flickered faintly, the words "Antiquities & Artifacts" barely visible beneath layers of grime. Curious, Vargas stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, the smell of old books and dusty relics filling the air. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with cybernetic eyes, looked up briefly from his counter, then returned to his work, unbothered by the presence of a stranger.

Vargas wandered through the cramped aisles, his eyes catching on various items—a fragment of an ancient star map, a beautifully crafted dagger from the dark ages, and even a rusty helmet with a faint insignia he couldn't quite place. He didn't need any of it, but one particular object caught his attention: an old, tarnished locket, its surface engraved with symbols he faintly recognized. He picked it up, inspecting it closely. There was something about it, something oddly familiar.

"How much for this?" Vargas asked, holding the locket up to the shopkeeper.

The man glanced at it and shrugged. "For you? 500 credits."

Vargas raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He transferred the credits and pocketed the locket, feeling its weight settle comfortably against his chest. He wasn't sure why he bought it—perhaps it was just the mood, or the faint sense of nostalgia it invoked. He wasn't usually sentimental about objects, but he quite liked the designs of the necklace.

After leaving the shop, he continued his walk through the city. He passed street vendors selling exotic food, the scents of alien spices wafting through the air.

His stomach rumbled, but instead of stopping for street food, he headed toward a high-end gourmet market. Inside, the shelves were stocked with rare ingredients from all over the galaxy—imported fruits from lush, distant worlds, cuts of meat from species he had never even heard of, and wines that had aged in zero-gravity cellars for decades.

He picked up a few bottles of an expensive vintage, casually tossing them into his shopping basket. Money was no issue for him—his account seemed bottomless, a result of years of successful missions, bonuses from the Bureau, and discreet side contracts with powerful figures.

He filled his basket with delicacies, including a few exotic chocolates that Ralo would appreciate. The kid had a sweet tooth.

As he exited the market, bags in hand, Vargas glanced up at the skyline again. The neon lights reflected off the glass and metal structures, bathing the city in a vibrant, almost otherworldly glow. He appreciated the luxury and beauty of it all, but he never really felt at home in these places. Too polished, too perfect. There was always something lurking beneath the surface, hidden behind the pristine façades and wealth.

He continued his walk, taking his time to absorb the sights and sounds.

Suddenly, he felt a sudden impact. Someone had crashed into him. He steadied himself quickly, his reflexes honed from years of training, and looked down to see a young girl sprawled on the ground before him.

She looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. Her face was smudged with grime, her hair tangled and unkempt. She wore a tattered uniform of the local street cleaners, but something about her was off. There was a frantic energy in her movements, like she was running from something.

"I'm... I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, her voice shaky and breathless. Her eyes darted around, as if expecting someone to appear from the shadows at any moment.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. Vargas, still reeling from the unexpected encounter, felt a sudden, sharp pain bloom behind his eyes. His head throbbed with a brutal intensity, the world around him tilting for a brief moment.

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He winced, pressing a hand to his forehead. The pain was strange—unnatural—and it seemed to intensify the longer he looked at the girl. His vision blurred for a second, and in that brief distortion, he thought he saw something... off about her. The outline of her form flickered, like static on a broken screen, but before he could make sense of it, she muttered another hurried apology.

"I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to—" Without waiting for a response, she bolted, disappearing into the maze of streets with surprising speed.

Vargas watched her flee, still grappling with the migraine that had slammed into his skull. He reached up and touched his nose, frowning as he felt a trickle of something wet. Pulling his hand away, he saw it—blood. A faint smear of red on his fingertips.

"What the hell..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as the headache persisted. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered strange sensations in his line of work, but this was different.

There was something unnatural about that girl, something that had triggered a reaction in him. It wasn't just a random accident. The way she looked, the energy around her... it gnawed at the edges of his mind.

Vargas wiped away the blood and glanced in the direction she had run off to, but she was already long gone. The streets bustled with activity, as if nothing had happened, the neon lights flickering overhead, and the city's hum filling the air. But Vargas knew better than to ignore such incidents. Something about her was wrong, and the pain in his head was a warning.

He stood there for a moment, piecing together the encounter. There was something more to this city, and more to the people in it than met the eye. Shaking off the lingering pain, he adjusted his coat, his instincts alert once again. He would have to find out what was going on, and fast.

As Vargas continued down the street, the nagging pain in his head started to fade, but a thought began to form, slowly crystallizing in his mind. The symptoms—the headache, the nosebleed, the sudden feeling of exhaustion—it all fit a pattern he had encountered only a handful of times before.

"A Null," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as the realization hit him.

The girl wasn't just some runaway. She was a Null—one of the rare individuals who could drain and cancel out the energy fields, especially those tied to the Aera. That would explain why the magic within his body had been yanked out so violently when she collided with him, causing the sudden nosebleeds and the piercing headache.

Nulls were anomalies, existing on the edges of both magical and alien awareness. They didn't possess a soul, the life that most creatures had. Instead, they negated it, creating a dead zone where magic, psychic abilities, and even some forms of advanced tech were rendered useless. Few people knew of them, and fewer still understood how dangerous they could be in the wrong circumstances.

Vargas clenched his jaw, running through the encounter in his mind. The girl had been frantic, nervous—like she was running from something or someone. Was it because of her Null ability? Did someone know what she was and wanted to use her? Or was she simply trying to survive in a city that would eat her alive the moment her secret got out?

The sudden surge of concern caught him off guard. He hadn't met many Nulls in his time, but they often led tragic lives—outcasts from society, feared by both the magical and non-magical alike. They were too dangerous to be left unmonitored but too vulnerable to be ignored.

They invoked thoughts of dread and weakness as the aera was being drained in the vicinity. It could only be a matter of time before superstitious people finally had enough.

He wiped the remaining blood from his nose and exhaled slowly, already knowing that he couldn't just leave this alone. The girl was a threat, potentially—but she was also a victim. If she was truly a Null, it meant others would be after her. And if they caught her, she could end up as another pawn in the game of dark forces that lurked behind the scenes.

Vargas adjusted his coat, the weight of the realization settling on his shoulders. He would have to investigate further. But for now, he had to regroup, focus on the mission at hand. Still, the thought of the girl gnawed at him. He needed to know who she was and what kind of trouble she was in—before someone far more dangerous found her first.

Vargas moved swiftly through the city streets, the sense of urgency gnawing at him as he made his way back to his living quarters. His mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what exactly he was dealing with and how best to prepare for it. He knew one thing for sure—the girl was dangerous, even if she didn't realize it herself. If she was left unchecked, others would find her, exploit her powers, and turn her into a weapon. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Back in his room, Vargas sat at his desk and activated his laptop. The screen flickered to life, revealing a sleek, black interface tied directly to the Federation's secure merchant network. This wasn't just any online market; it was a portal used by investigators, mercenaries, and high-level operatives to acquire highly specialized equipment, much of which was either restricted or outright illegal in civilian hands.

His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as he navigated through various sections—advanced weaponry, military-grade technology, cybernetics, changer chips for identity swaps, stealth field generators, and more. But none of those were what he needed now. He clicked through submenus with precision until he landed on the category he was searching for: Null-Inhibitor Devices.

The page loaded, displaying several variations of the technology, each model more advanced than the last. These collars were specifically designed to neutralize the null field, rendering individuals like the girl harmless. With the Federation spanning millions of galaxies and dealing with countless alien and magical threats, encounters with Nulls had become increasingly common. In response, scientists and engineers had developed these devices, allowing Nulls to be monitored, controlled, or integrated back into society as regular humans.

Vargas skimmed through the options, settling on a mid-tier model. It was compact, nearly undetectable when worn, and equipped with adaptive technology that would immediately suppress the subject's Null abilities upon activation.

Once the collar was on, the girl's ability to drain aera would be blocked. She would effectively become a normal human, at least for as long as she wore the device.

The collar also came with tracking capabilities and a failsafe that would alert him if someone attempted to tamper with it. Perfect for what he needed. He placed the order, choosing express delivery. This was not something he could afford to delay on.

As the transaction finalized, Vargas leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the city outside barely registering in his mind. The pieces were falling into place. He would need to find the girl again, somehow—track her movements, learn more about her situation, and place the collar on her before she fell into the wrong hands.

The moment the order confirmation appeared on his screen, he shut down the laptop and exhaled. His work for the night wasn't done, but at least now he had the tools he needed to deal with the situation.