Dawn crept through the gaps in Angelo's apartment blinds, painting thin stripes of golden light across the worn hardwood floors. The familiar scents of coffee and dust motes mingled in the air, remnants of his morning routine that had survived his brief suspension. Though "brief" felt like an understatement - amazing how quickly life could transform in just one week.
The television's artificial glow cast flickering shadows across the sparse living room, where Red lounged on their secondhand couch, his materialized form sprawled with casual disregard for proper posture. Some mindless daytime show droned on, its dialogue mixing with the distant sounds of early morning traffic filtering up from the streets below. Festival preparations had begun in earnest across Novaria, and even from this height, the metallic clanking of workers hanging decorations carried clearly through the crisp autumn air.
Angelo stood before his bedroom mirror, adjusting his freshly pressed uniform. The fabric still carried that distinct new-clothes scent, a constant reminder of how his previous one had ended up shredded and blood-soaked. But beneath the professional exterior, something else churned in his gut - anticipation, maybe even hope. After eighteen years, they might finally uncover some fragment of truth about his parents' murder.
"I see you're still committed to this ethical transgression," Blue materialized near the window, his azure form catching the morning light as he studied the street below. His cultured tones carried carefully measured disapproval.
"If by 'ethical transgression' you mean getting information from an office building, then yeah," Angelo replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he finished lacing his boots. "I'm practically history's greatest monster."
"The semantics of the location hardly mitigate the moral implications," Blue countered, his posture radiating scholarly disappointment. "As an officer of the law-"
"As an officer who wants answers," Angelo cut him off, snatching a misplaced remote from his desk. Without warning, he hurled it at Red's head with precise force.
Red's hand shot up, catching the projectile without even glancing away from the television. "You do realize I can see that coming through your eyes, right?" he drawled, his tone suggesting Angelo had interrupted something fascinating. "Shared sensory input and all that?"
"Didn't think you could focus enough to translate my perspective into your movements," Angelo admitted, genuine curiosity coloring his voice. "That's actually impressive coordination."
A predatory grin spread across Red's face. "That's my secret, Angie - chaos is just another form of awareness."
"How poetic," Blue's dry response could have dehydrated an ocean. "Though perhaps we could focus on the ethical implications of-"
"Save the lecture," Angelo interrupted, checking his phone's time display. "Red, you know what you need to do. The longer you observe that records room, the better chance of catching someone's password entry."
The transformation in Red's demeanor was immediate and dramatic. His previous smugness evaporated like morning dew under a blowtorch. "Oh god," horror crept into his voice as realization dawned. "You mean I have to just... sit there? And wait? Like some kind of... office ghost?!"
"Unless you don't want to find out who murdered our parents," Angelo's voice carried deadly serious weight as he moved toward the door. The morning light caught his aura as it flickered to life, casting orange shadows that seemed to emphasize the gravity of his words.
Red's groan of despair could have awakened the dead. "...fine. But I'm not happy about it."
"Noted," Angelo stepped into the hallway, his evolved state coming easier now, more natural with each passing day. The familiar drain on his stamina felt manageable, testament to his meditation practice paying off. As he soared between Novaria's towers, festival preparations in full swing below, his mind turned toward the station and whatever new challenges awaited.
The precinct's imposing facade greeted him with its usual stoic presence, though something felt different in the air. Perhaps the other officers had finally adjusted to Joe's dramatic presence, or maybe the rock star Auron had found somewhere else to perform his attitude. Either way, a new day of possibilities stretched before him - both official and otherwise.
The morning sun painted stark patterns across the polished floor of the precinct as Angelo checked his watch - 10 AM. "Time to earn your keep, Red. That password isn't going to steal itself," he thought through their shared consciousness.
"Don't remind me," Red's essence departed with theatrical sulkiness, slipping away like crimson smoke through invisible cracks just as Vivian approached, her heels clicking purposefully against the polished floor.
"Angelo," she greeted, her usual professional demeanor softening around the edges. "How are you holding up? After everything..." The festival preparations outside cast shifting shadows across her face as she searched for the right words.
"Taking it day by day," Angelo managed, forcing lightness into his tone. "Keeping busy helps."
Vivian nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. "The chief asked to see you," she added, smoothing her uniform reflexively. "Though he seemed more... contemplative than usual."
"Perhaps he's finally recognized your unique talent for creative limb rearrangement," Blue's mental voice carried scholarly mockery.
As Angelo climbed the familiar stairs to Ramirez's office, he allowed himself a moment of optimism. "My new Adept ranking should at least mean better compensation," he mused, knuckles rapping against the heavy oak door.
"Enter," Ramirez's gruff voice commanded. The office beyond felt smaller than usual, morning light filtering through half-drawn blinds to illuminate dancing dust motes. The chief himself sat behind his imposing desk, reading glasses perched low as he studied a thick folder with unusual intensity.
"You requested my presence, sir?" Angelo kept his tone carefully neutral, studying his superior's uncharacteristically tense posture.
Ramirez removed his glasses with deliberate slowness. "I've been reviewing yesterday's incident report," he began, his usual commanding presence somehow diminished. "The medical evaluation makes for disturbing reading. Multiple compound fractures, severe tissue trauma..." He tapped the folder meaningfully. "The review board has expressed serious concerns about the level of force employed."
"Classic bureaucratic bullshit," Red's distant thought carried bitter frustration. "They probably wanted us to ask nicely for him to stop murdering people."
"Sir, with respect," Angelo chose his words carefully, "subduing him required exceptional measures. His combat capabilities were far beyond standard parameters."
"Yes... his professional background certainly complicated matters," Ramirez conceded, shifting in his chair with unusual discomfort. "The treatment facility warned us about his deteriorating condition, but the scope of yesterday's tragedy exceeded all projections..."
Angelo's phone vibrated against his hip - a notification he couldn't check, not with the conversation taking this delicate turn. Something in the chief's manner set off warning bells in his mind.
"Perhaps it's time I offered some context," Angelo ventured, deciding a calculated revelation might strengthen his position. "About Red and Blue, and why I can't always exercise... restraint."
The change in Ramirez's posture was subtle but immediate - a tightening around the eyes, a slight straightening of his spine that seemed almost rehearsed.
"Something's off with him," Red's warning cut through their shared consciousness, sharp with unusual concern.
"What do you mean?" Angelo thought back, studying his superior's face with renewed intensity.
"Can't explain it," Red's response carried frustrated certainty. "Just wrong. Like he's playing a part."
"I suppose I have wondered about their nature," Ramirez offered carefully, his words carrying an odd formality. "These... aspects of yours are rather unique."
"Professor Goldstein spent years studying our condition," Angelo began, watching the chief's reactions closely. "His research revealed something extraordinary - we're essentially a single being whose energy separated into three distinct yet connected components. The implications are still being debated in the scientific community."
Ramirez waved a hand dismissively. "Spare me the theoretical physics, son. What's the practical impact?"
"Simply put, we're three separate manifestations of the same person," Angelo explained, noting how the chief's eyes narrowed at certain details. "We share consciousness, sensory input, everything - but we're distinct entities."
"So they're not simply part of your abilities," Ramirez ventured, an odd note in his voice.
"No, sir. It's more fundamental than that - a condition I always had. Though they only emerged physically when my aura first manifested-" Angelo caught himself as Ramirez tensed almost imperceptibly.
"Yes, I recall hearing about that," the chief interjected too quickly. "Sleeser mentioned it during our preliminary discussions about your recruitment."
"He's lying," Red's certainty echoed through their link. "Don't know how I know, but he is."
"Did he now?" Angelo kept his tone neutral despite growing suspicion. "Well, there's another side effect of my condition beside Red and Blue that impacts my combat capabilities."
"Your face is a side effect!" Red's mental outburst carried his characteristic irreverence.
"Because our energy is divided," Angelo continued, ignoring his counterpart's commentary, "my maximum power output is permanently reduced to fifty percent of normal capacity. This means that in combat situations, especially against tougher opponents, holding back isn't just risky - it's potentially fatal."
"I trust this explanation provides sufficient context for my methods," Angelo rose from his chair with practiced nonchalance, studying the chief's bewildered expression. "Unless there's something else you need to discuss?"
Ramirez looked like a man trying to solve a complex equation without numbers. "No, that's... that will suffice," he managed, his usual authoritative presence crumbling around the edges.
Angelo slipped out before his superior could recover, allowing himself a small smirk once safely in the hallway. "Watching him squirm like that - almost worth sharing our secret," he thought with satisfaction.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Truly a masterclass in deflection," Blue's response dripped scholarly sarcasm. "Perhaps you missed your calling in theatrical performance."
"There was something else though," Red mused as his essence drifted through the corporate maze. "He was feeling tense at times like- DAMN IT ALL, WHERE IS THIS BLASTED ROOM?!" His mental voice crescendoed with mounting frustration.
"Shall I draw you a map?" Blue's cutting response could have sliced granite. "Or perhaps a series of colorful arrows? Though I suspect even that might exceed your navigational capabilities."
"Watch it, you walking talking blueberry!" Red's crimson form twisted with agitation as he circled the building for the third time. "Not all of us memorize floor plans for fun!"
"Someone's feeling particularly acidic today," Angelo observed, noting Blue's unusually sharp tongue.
"Merely providing perspective," Blue redirected smoothly. "And speaking of perspective, only Red seems to sense anything amiss with the chief. I observed no concrete signs of duplicity."
"Neither did I," Angelo admitted, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. "But after what happened with Jill... maybe Red's instincts deserve more credit."
"A difficult concession to make," Blue acknowledged with clear reluctance.
Angelo's phone vibrated against his hip, drawing his attention. His breath caught at the name on the screen: "Miriam..." The message unfurled before him:
'Dear Angelo, I hope this finds you well. I've been thinking about our conversation, about my offer. Whether or not you've reached a decision, I'd love to have you for dinner this evening. No pressure, just good food and company.'
Angelo froze several doors down from the chief's office, tension radiating through his frame. "How do I even begin to respond to this?"
"You could start by accepting," Blue suggested, his typically analytical tone carrying unexpected warmth.
"You can't be serious," Angelo's mental voice strained with barely contained anxiety. "A family dinner? With us?"
"The stability of a home environment could prove invaluable to your psychological well-being," Blue pressed gently.
"It would be a disaster," Angelo protested weakly. "Red would have her questioning her sanity within days."
"I can control myself, you know," Red's voice cut through their debate with unusual solemnity. "At least... under her roof. I'd make the effort."
The sincerity in Red's tone left both Angelo and Blue momentarily stunned. "Are you running a fever?" Angelo finally managed. "Can you two even get fevers?"
Red's essence vibrated with sudden volatility. "What, I can't show basic human decency?!" he snapped, before his voice softened to something raw and honest. "She's hurting enough without us adding to it. If you'd just listened earlier... if I'd pushed harder about my suspicions..." His words trailed into painful silence.
"Not this again," Angelo's shoulders sagged beneath invisible weight. "We all carry that burden."
"Yeah, well," Red's anger dissolved into something more vulnerable. "Some burdens feel heavier than others. Damn it all, but I actually miss that earnest little rookie!" The confession struck them all like a physical blow.
"Lets stop talking about it," Angelo's mental voice hardened to ice. "Right now, we focus on dinner. Are we in agreement?"
"A logical course of action," Blue's response carried carefully constructed calm.
"Whatever," Red mumbled, his usual fire dampened to embers.
Angelo's fingers moved across his phone screen, crafting an acceptance to Miriam's invitation. Outside, festival preparations filled the air with the sounds of construction and celebration, their cheerful cacophony a stark counterpoint to the heavy silence that had settled over their shared consciousness.
"There," Blue's voice carried sudden urgency before catching himself. "
Red, the records room - you just passed-" He cut off abruptly, remembering his ethical objections to their entire operation.
"Heh, thanks blueberry," Red's crimson essence backtracked and slipped through the doorframe. The empty room greeted him with the soft hum of a locked computer and the musty scent of old files. "And now we wait..." His mental voice dripped misery.
The minutes crawled by like hours as Red studied every detail of the room - the neat rows of filing cabinets, the slightly crooked blinds, the coffee ring on a nearby desk. Finally, his patience shattered. "I'M LOSING MY MIND IN HERE!"
"Try making some noise," Angelo suggested through their link. "Might draw someone in to investigate. If they check the computer-"
"Brilliant plan, genius," Red's sarcasm could have stripped paint. "Maybe you forgot I can't affect anything in smoke form? And if I materialize, I'm stuck solid unless I want to shoot straight back to you! Real helpful!"
"Ah... right," Angelo's mental voice carried embarrassment. "What about patrolling outside? Try catching someone's eye, guide them toward the room?"
"Ugh, fine. Better than counting ceiling tiles." The next hour devolved into Red's increasingly frustrated attempts at human herding. "This way... no, not the break room, you caffeinated sheep! THE RECORDS ROOM!"
Finally, someone meandered into the room, heading straight for the file shelves. Red's essence rushed in behind them, hope rising - only to watch in horror as they ignored the computer completely.
"NOOOOO!" His mental scream made Angelo wince mid-patrol. "The computer's RIGHT THERE IDIOT! USE IT!"
The employee sighed heavily, rifling through folders. "Won't find it here... should check the database."
"YES! FUCKING FINALLY!" Red's excitement bubbled through their link. "Type that password, you beautiful office drone!"
"If I could just remember the password..." The man muttered.
"CURSE THIS ENTIRE BUILDING!" Red's despair would have been funny if it wasn't so earnest.
"Hey, anyone remember the archive password?" The man called out suddenly.
A distant voice responded: "2244!"
"Two... two... four... four?" Red's essence practically vibrated with indignation. "THREE HOURS OF MY LIFE FOR FOUR DIGITS?!"
"Not exactly high level security," Blue observed with scholarly amusement.
"Well done, Red," Angelo cut in. "Return to base. We'll send you back when we meet with Neiva-"
"Oh no," Red's mental voice took on a dangerous edge. "This place owes me some entertainment."
"Red, don't you dare-"
"Can't hear you over the sound of impending chaos!"
What followed was thirty minutes of pure mayhem. Red materialized in the kitchen, methodically swapping every food container with its identical neighbor - coffee with decaf, sugar with salt, creating culinary landmines throughout the break room. He systematically emptied every printer he could find, scattered paper clips like confetti, and terrorized the women's restroom with phantom knocking that sent screams echoing through the halls.
His reign of petty terror came to an abrupt halt when an employee did a double-take, staring at his unfamiliar face. "Hey, who are-" Recognition dawned in her eyes. "HEY! STOP!"
Red dove into the nearest empty office as footsteps thundered behind him. When the door burst open seconds later, the room contained nothing but dancing dust motes and the lingering sense of mischief accomplished.
----------------------------------------
The evening sun cast long shadows across Novaria's streets as Angelo touched down in front of Neiva's house. She was already at the window, her face lighting up at his arrival. Before his knuckles could even graze the door, she burst out with barely contained excitement.
"Angelo!" Her enthusiasm practically radiated off her. "I can't believe this is actually happening!"
Angelo ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with her eagerness. "It's just information gathering. Try not to get too worked up about it."
"But if we find something good, you'll let me join your team!" She bounced on her heels like an overexcited puppy.
"Team?" Angelo's brow furrowed. "That sounds weird. More like... taking you under my wing or something."
"Call it whatever you want!" Her smile could have powered half the city.
Angelo opened his mouth to respond, but Red's cackling laughter cut through their shared consciousness. Through Red's eyes, Angelo saw a memo posted on a bulletin board: "WARNING: Recent break room incidents include swapped sugar/salt containers and emptied milk cartons. Exercise caution - further pranks possible."
"Got that out of your system?" Angelo muttered aloud, earning a curious look from Neiva.
"What did he do?" she asked, eyes sparkling with interest.
Ignoring her question, Angelo pressed Red mentally. "Focus up. We've got that dinner later - need to wrap this up quick."
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." Red's satisfaction dripped through their link as he squeezed into the archives, materializing before a computer terminal. "Two, two, four, four," he input the password with obvious disdain. "Security's really gone downhill. Uh, now what? Just got some weird database thing."
Angelo relayed the situation to Neiva. "Red's in. Computer's unlocked, but we're looking at some kind of database program."
"Your intel-gathering potential is incredible!" Neiva's eyes lit up with dangerous enthusiasm. "Have you ever considered espionage as a career path?"
"An intriguing observation," Blue materialized beside them, causing Neiva to jump with a startled squeak.
"Parents first, career changes later," Angelo cut in dryly. "Neiva, what's Red looking for here?"
Slipping into what she clearly imagined was a spy-movie operator mode, Neiva straightened. "Right! That guy hinted at potential project commission data. We should start by establishing a timeline - sometime before their..." she faltered, then continued more gently, "When did your parents move to Ashford?"
Frustration darkened Angelo's features. "I know pathetically little about them. Just their names, really..."
"What were their names?" Neiva asked softly.
Angelo paused, then shrugged. No reason to hide it. "Cyrus and Nova Ashworth."
The way Neiva's expression shifted made his stomach drop. "What?"
"Angelo..." Her voice carried gentle concern. "Those names... they're Infernian."
"That's impossible," Angelo protested. "Ashworth - they were from Ashford, that's all."
Blue stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps that was precisely the point - choosing Ashford to make the name seem natural, hiding their Infernian origins in plain sight."
"Can we focus?" Angelo's voice carried an edge of desperation. "This has nothing to do with what we're looking for."
"Consider the implications," Blue pressed. "If they were Infernian agents, Luminian intelligence might have-"
"Seriously?" Angelo cut him off. "You're letting Neiva's spy fantasies get to you. What kind of Infernian agents bring their baby on an infiltration mission?"
"Hmm." Blue's tone remained measured. "Perhaps that theory was... overzealous. Though not entirely impossible."
"So I'm just supposed to stare at this monitor while you all have story time?" Red's voice crackled with irritation. "Because I can think of way more entertaining uses for my time. That break room's practically begging for more chaos."
"Focus, Red," Angelo snapped back to the task at hand. "Neiva, the database?"
"Right, sorry!" Neiva straightened, slipping back into mission mode. "We can't pinpoint when the lab was built, but we can search projects by time and location."
"He can hear you directly," Angelo noted. "Red?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Mouse clicks echoed through their shared consciousness. "Got filters for location... and date range... Bingo."
"Found it," Angelo relayed to Neiva.
"Perfect! Let's search Ashford projects from before eighteen years ago."
Red input the parameters, his usual manic energy temporarily contained by focus. "Well, well... Not exactly slim pickings, but not overwhelming either."
Angelo scanned the results through Red's eyes. While there was no direct mention of their parents' lab, something else caught his attention. "Here," his voice dropped to a whisper that made Neiva lean in closer. "Project comment about labs in Ashford's school. Commissioned to a local resident."
"A lead!" Neiva could barely contain herself. "We have to interview them in person!"
"Oh ho ho!" Red's essence practically vibrated with dark glee. "No wiggling out of this one, Angie! Maybe we'll even run into our old pal Harry. Bet that arrogant prick hasn't evolved – perfect chance for some payback!"
The name hit Angelo like a physical blow, memories of past defeats rising unbidden. After a long moment, he exhaled slowly. "Fine. We're going to Ashford."
"And I'm coming too, right?" Neiva attempted puppy-dog eyes that wouldn't have fooled a blind man.
"Yeah," Angelo's dry tone couldn't quite hide his amusement. "You've earned it."
"I'm in the team! I'm in the team!" Neiva broke into an impromptu victory dance that drew a rare chuckle from Blue.
"We need to go," Angelo cut in. "But pack camping gear. Ashford isn't exactly a tourist hotspot – no inns or motels."
"Wait, what?" Neiva's celebration screeched to a halt. "Where would we sleep?"
"The woods, obviously. Why do you think they call it Ashford?" His attempt at reassurance fell somewhat flat. "Look, it's almost winter, so bears aren't an issue. Besides, Red and Blue never sleep. They'll keep watch."
"O...kay..." Neiva's enthusiasm dimmed several watts.
Blue offered a formal farewell before dissolving back into Angelo. As they turned toward Miriam's house, their minds raced with new possibilities – and old fears. The sun had finally set, painting Novaria's sky in deep purples and blues. But for Angelo, the darkness ahead felt different now. Something was waiting in Ashford – answers about his parents, a confrontation with his past, and perhaps the truth about his own identity.
The evening air carried a hint of wood smoke, reminding him of the town whose very name now raised so many questions. Ashford. Once it had been just another Luminian town with a dark history. Now it felt like the key to everything – his parents' secrets, their Infernian heritage, and the mysteries that had shaped his entire existence.
As they soared through the darkening sky toward Miriam's house, Angelo couldn't shake the feeling that they were crossing a point of no return. The truth about his parents – and himself – waited in Ashford. The only question was: would he be ready for what they found there?
Red's voice, unusually subdued, echoed through their shared consciousness: "Hey, whatever we find there, we face it together, yeah?"
"Indeed," Blue added solemnly. "As we always have."
Angelo said nothing, but his silence carried its own answer as they flew through the gathering night, toward dinner with the mother who had forgiven him, and beyond that – to the town that held the secrets of the parents he had never truly known.