~BEGIN INTERREGNUM~

"I think I found them," a plant person announced.

A group of plantfolk roamed the snowy waste. They all wore thick and heavy coats as they trudged through the drifts of snow.

"Yes... That may... be them..." A pale anemic plant person said, after inspecting what they had dug up.

It was Tesla. They were lying lifeless in the snow. Their eyes were dark, and large indent was punched on their head.

"Alright boys, get the sled ready. We're dragging back Tesla now."

"Aye aye."

~***~

Stripe had largely recovered from the merciless biting cold. He shivers while he was wrapped around thick insulating blankets.

*Creak.* The door cracked open, revealing the team that had braved the snowstorm. The group had the chrome body of Tesla in tow. They dragged the unconscious body of Tesla beside the fire to thaw the frost that may had accumulated in their systems. Metaphor merely gazed at their body. She was a doctor, not a bloody mechanic.

In all honesty, Stripe had found it unsettling how the dumb and dim folk of this town had suddenly transformed into competent individuals just in the presence of this new pale man. Menthol, that was his name.

"How do you feel, Menthol?" Metaphor asked. She was rather concerned at the pale man who wheezed every time he tried to breathe. Little flesh had clung to the bones he possessed.

"Fine..." Menthol said. "Just... cold..."

The pale man sat by the fire. He let his body shiver uncontrollably while he tried to warm himself.

"Tell us about yourself, Menthol. You appeared literally out of nowhere," Stripe suddenly asked.

"I am... or was... a soldier... a commanding... officer..." The man began. "I fought... against... Prometheus... We lost... He cursed... me... Now, I'm... always cold..."

"Eesh. Harsh."

The crew waited in the library, for hours on end, but the storm outside continued to roil. The cacophonous wind battered against the marble walls while its inhabitants huddled around the fire pit they have constructed. Occasionally, they fed the flames with a bit of dry wood every now and then.

"Geez. It's like the storm is waiting for us to come out." Metaphor remarked, shuddering.

"Yes..."

~***~

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. The ringing of a telephone cracked the atmosphere of silence. The folks at the library was fast asleep when it rang, waiting for the blizzard to pass. Outside, the storm rages on, with no sign of weakening.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Metaphor and Stripe groggily rose as its ringing disturbed their sleep. Searching for the source, they found it to come from an object under Tesla's coat. Although muffled by the thick coat, it rang and vibrated with great urgency.

Metaphor carefully opened the coat... Tesla's torso was a telephone booth. The blocky phone was calling for attention and aching to be picked up while an olive LCD announced the caller. Dalton was calling.

Metaphor and Stripe looked at each other before she carefully picked it up.

"Senior Tesla. Kindly forward this call to the Boss." Dalton spoke. His voice was stern.

Metaphor looked once again at the milky buttons on Tesla's chest. She pushed the one button labelled forward. The screen changed, and now displayed a list of titles. Metaphor gently pressed the button that corresponded to "the Boss".

There was a brief ringing before the one on the other side picked up their phone.

"Agent Miller," the man on the other side said with an air of hostility. "Reason for contact?"

"Complications on covert operation. Agent Fable who was escorting the cargo delivered to General Winter has gone AWOL. Agent Fable has ceased communications approximately 6 hours ago. Should I send a party after it?"

There was a brief silence. "No. Be on standby, Agent Miller. Monitor your partner, Agent Coil, and take note of any activity you could receive on Agent Fable."

The line then went dead.

"Apologies that you had to put up with that, Senior Tesla. Good night."

The line then went dead.

~***~

Dawn came, but the snowstorm outside had no sight of weakening since last night. They lit the fire blazing once again as they attempted to stave of the ravenous cold that gnawed at the building.

On top of the fire was a pot filled with boiling soup. Metaphor stirred and served the soup she was cooking. They had a breakfast of modest soup and slices of the plastic fruits.

Menthol stared at the dancing flames, shakily holding the bowl of hot soup in his hands. Layers of wooly towels draped over him without apparent effect. He was contemplating.

"What do you think does it mean?" Stripe asked. His finger absorbing the soup in his bowl.

Menthol was quiet for a while. "So... this Dalton... fellow... You met him somewhere?..."

"Yes. He accommodated our stay at the mill."

Menthol took a sip of his soup, and said "They are... agents of... Prometheus... An agent... of his... is in... our midst..."

~***~

Agent Fable scaled down the ravine. The metal arm in its back grabbing hold to the icy cliff while its sextuple feet attempted to find footholds.

Agents Fable's crimson furry head spied at the edge, but found no trace of the person it sought in the dark depths. Its segmented rusty carapace shifted as it attempts to gracefully bend and turn at corners. Its shimmering compound eyes and delicate antennae twitched at any significant evidence it could receive.

Agent Fable eventually reached the bottom, but it could not find the person it had sought at the bottom. There was a splash of red amongst the rocks, but there was no body, no corpse. It appears to have been dragged away by a mysterious person into the large cavern that appears to be at the bottom of the ravine.

Good riddance to the good-for-nothing lady-stealer.

Hey! Hush you.

"Hero!" Agent Fable called out, but only echoes answer it.

The insectoid agent looked at the cavern with hesitance. It took small unsteady steps into the darkness.

Just forget about him, B. He's gone.

He's important to the Boss' plans. What's with you, Nar?

... I... have reservations for you, B.