Marcus thought it would be a quiet night until the incident with the skinless man on Tower Drive. 

A lone Royal Guard patrol car roamed the streets. Scott Drummond drove while Marcus Hamilton rode shotgun. Marcus hated night shifts. He felt he was getting too old for overnight work. Staying awake was a struggle, especially on this particular night. Marcus ran his hand across his graying black hair. He did this mostly because any movement helped keep him cognizant. Both men begged for some action but soon regretted this desire.

"Wake up!" Scott said, smacking Marcus on the arm.

"I am awake."

"Here, does this help?" Scott asked as he lowered Marcus' window. A crisp sea breeze from the Gulf of Madora flowed into the car.

"A little," Marcus said. He straightened himself and adjusted his black uniform. The coat bore the same silver hippogriff logo that adorned the patrol car's side. It was the symbol of the Royal Guard of Endria. Marcus would have preferred to ride a hippogriff, like the ancient guards. Maybe then he could enjoy this job again. Sadly, the hippogriffs were almost extinct.

"Want an energy drink?" Scott asked and pointed his thumb at the cooler in the backseat.

"Nah, man. Those things will give you a heart attack one of these days."

"Whatever," Scott said with a laugh. He reached up and played with his braided goatee while he said this. Marcus knew Scott was as tired as he was. Fidgeting with his beard was Scott's nervous tick while trying to stay awake. The sleepier Scott became, the more he touched his face. Marcus had counted three times in the past two minutes.

Marcus had his methods of remaining alert. He fetched a cigar from his coat pocket, which made Scott groan.

"Quinn is going to complain about the cigar smell again."

"Let him. He'll complain about something no matter what."

"Did you piss him off again? Is that why you're back on night duty?"

"I might have pushed a few of his buttons."

"Aren't you training the recruits tomorrow? You must have pushed more than a few buttons."

"You know me," Marcus said with a laugh. "Where's my lighter?" he asked, searching his coat and pants.

"Here. I've got you covered," Scott said. He held his hand in front of the cigar and snapped his fingers. A small flame appeared as Marcus watched Scott's eyes glow blue. The snap wasn't necessary, but Scott liked to make a show out of even the slightest bit of magic.

"Thanks," Marcus said, lighting his cigar before taking a long puff. He slumped in his seat again and blew the smoke out the open window.

"Hey, let me get your opinion on something. I've been shopping for a ring for Diana, and..." Scott began, but Marcus interrupted him.

"Don't do it."

"Shut up, Marcus. I'm serious."

"So am I. Don't do it."

"I'm not like you. This will be my only time to get married."

"I said that once, too."

"More like three times," Scott said under his breath, but Marcus heard him and glared. Undeterred, Scott continued talking. "But seriously, I thought about one of those color-changing rings. She loves that stuff."

"Don't buy one of those overpriced ones. Buy a cheap ring and have Drake enchant it. He does it as a hobby."

"Really? Thanks for the tip," Scott said, turning the patrol car onto Tower Drive. This gave them a perfect view of the royal tower. It stood at the end like a giant sentinel watching over the city. The low-hanging clouds glowed with the light from the windows. You couldn't see the top on a night like this. The skyscraper was too tall. Scott liked to think King Darian conjured the clouds to obscure his penthouse from prying eyes, but Darian was a red mage. He couldn't perform such magic. Seeing the tower brought a question to Scott's mind. "What do you think the King is up to right now?"

"Sleeping, probably."

"Him? I doubt it. I'd peg him as more of a nocturnal animal."

"You'd do what to him?"

"Shut up, idiot," Scott said and shook his head. "You're gonna train people to protect him, but do you ever wonder if he deserves it?"

"That's dangerous to say, Scotty," Marcus said, sitting up straight and flicking cigar ash out the window.

"What? Do you think he bugged our patrol car?"

"Maybe. People say he's a little paranoid. I also wouldn't put it past Quinn."

This made Scott look worried for the first time that night. He glanced around the car and even reached underneath the dash. Marcus was about to tell him to focus on the road, but the incoming call alert beeped. It made Scott jump. He recovered and pushed the answer button. Joan, the dispatcher, appeared on screen. She looked as exhausted as they felt. A chewed-up pencil held her blonde hair in a bun.

"Are you guys near the tower?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're staring at it," Scott said.

"There's a disturbance near 3rd and Tower Drive."

"We're on it."

Marcus threw the remains of his cigar out the window and raised it before wiping ash off his coat.

"Finally, some action," Scott said while punching the accelerator.

The drive to 3rd Street took little time. They could see a small group of men huddled around an alley. The men seemed agitated. One of them yelled at an unseen person in the darkness. He even threw something into the alley.

"Drunken mob?" Scott asked.

"Maybe," Marcus said, preparing for trouble. Scott turned on the siren to alert the mob, and a few stumbled out of shock. However, the frontman turned with a look of fury. "This guy will be trouble."

Scott parked a few feet away from the mob and opened the door. He started channeling magic in case of an attack but stood behind the car door for safety. "Stay where you are! What's going on here?"

"We cornered one of those skinless freaks in the alley!" the pack leader said. He gestured in that direction with such vigor that Scott swore he heard the man's shoulder pop.

Scott looked at Marcus with raised eyebrows. He didn't need to say a word. They both thought the same thing. Why would one of the infected be this far from the quarantine zone? They had never seen one in the city.

"Stand aside. We'll investigate," Marcus said, and he began channeling magic. His eyes glowed red as energy coursed through him. He didn't believe the men but knew someone was in the alley. Marcus could hear him due to his heightened senses. Whoever they were, their energy felt strange to Marcus. Something about it pulsed in a way that left Marcus' stomach feeling uneasy. His senses also detected the stench of alcohol and the elevated heart rates of the angry mob. They parted as Marcus approached the alley. "This is the Royal Guard! Whoever you are, come out with your hands up. I won't harm you."

A shadow shifted near a dumpster halfway down the alley. Marcus thought he would obey, but then he felt the hairs stand up on his arm. The figure was channeling magic, so Marcus readied himself. He drew from the energy around him and lifted his hand. Marcus sensed Scott doing the same behind him. "Stand down! I only wish to speak with you!" Marcus yelled.

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"He doesn't talk. We tried," the leader of the mob said.

Marcus took note of his words, but he didn't turn his head. Instead, he kept his hand raised and moved closer to the figure. With his enhanced eyesight, he caught his first glimpse of the man. What Marcus saw shocked him. He had the translucent skin of one of the infected. The mob was telling the truth. Their skin turned this way because of magical fallout. An arcane bomb decimated the city of New Arrington during the Varidian invasion years ago. People believed the Varidians set it off in the city. Those who survived looked like the figure in the alley. They were unstable and magically volatile, so the government walled the area and made it a quarantine zone. But how did this man enter the city unnoticed?

After recovering from his shock, Marcus stepped closer, resulting in a swell of magical energy from the man. Marcus couldn't explain it, but it felt wrong. The power didn't flow like usual. It was erratic and made Marcus' uneasy stomach lurch. The even more confusing part was he couldn't tell what type of magic it was until a trash can hurtled at his head. So he was a yellow mage. Telekinesis was one of their abilities. Marcus didn't know why he couldn't sense it, but he easily swatted the can and fired a weak chi blast into the man's chest. He heard a grunt, and the man slammed against the side of the dumpster. Marcus was sure this was enough to stun him, so he wasn't ready for an almost immediate retaliation. This time, the man shot a fireball. Marcus dodged it and blasted the man a second time in the head. The shot knocked him out.

"How the hell did he do that?" Scott asked as he joined Marcus in the alley. Then Scott placed a magical shield on the man, which ceased his magical channeling. "He used two types of magic! That isn't possible."

"I don't know how he did it," Marcus replied. He also cursed himself for not putting a shield on the man in the first place. His surprise and confusion had clouded his judgment.

"He really is one of the skinless," Scott said as he bent down to look at him. When Scott noticed the man was awake, he asked him a question. "Who are you, and how did you get into the city?"

"I told you he doesn't talk," the mob leader said again.

"Shut up and back away," Scott yelled before focusing on the skinless man again. Scott heard Marcus turn to deal with the drunken mob, but he was more focused on what was in front of him. He had only seen pictures of the infected, so his disturbing appearance sent a shiver down Scott's spine. You could see his muscles moving beneath the skin. Even in the dim light of the alley, it was an unnerving sight. "What's your name?"

The man shook his head and pointed at his throat.

"So you can't speak?"

He reacted similarly, but this time, he tapped on his throat as if pointing at a specific spot. Scott grabbed his flashlight and turned it on. When he pointed it at the man's neck, he gasped. There was a small scar near where the vocal cords would be.

"What the hell? Marcus, someone did a number on this guy's throat."

Marcus looked at the man briefly before saying, "They didn't want him talking, but why?"

As he said this, the skinless man pointed at the sky.

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell us," Scott said.

He made the gesture again, but he added something new. The man formed his hands into a ring and lowered it toward the top of his head as if placing something there. This only confused Scott, but Marcus got the idea.

"A crown?"

The skinless man nodded.

"He's blaming the king?" Scott asked, which garnered another nod. "I don't like the guy, but even I find that hard to believe."

"This isn't the place for this conversation. We'll question him at the station. I imagine he can at least write," Marcus said, reaching down to grab the man's arm. Scott helped him lift the guy and was surprised by how light he was. He didn't resist. They led him to the patrol car without a fight. Marcus expected the angry mob to interfere, but they backed away in horror. "Move along. There's nothing left to see here. Go home."

Once they placed the man in the backseat, Marcus and Scott stared at each other. They didn't have to speak. Scott didn't want to call it in, and neither did Marcus. After an uncomfortable silence, Scott pressed the button on the dash.

"Dispatch," Joan said.

"Joan, we apprehended a—an escaped infected man from the quarantine zone. He caused the disturbance on Tower Drive," Scott said.

"Are you serious?" Joan asked.

"As serious as a heart attack."

"Let me talk to Quinn. I'll get back to you."

"He's there this late? I thought Miller had night duty."

"Quinn came in a little over an hour ago. He seemed agitated."

"Yeah, what else is new?" Scott laughed. "We'll hang tight until we hear from you."

Scott and Marcus looked at each other and back at the skinless man while they waited. Holding a normal conversation in front of him felt odd, so they sat quietly. The wait for a response took too long for their taste, so Marcus got an idea. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a small notepad and a pen.

"Maybe we can ask him questions this way," Marcus said, holding the items up.

"Do you trust him with a pen?" Scott asked, miming a stabbing motion.

Marcus turned to look at the man, but he didn't pay attention to them. The skinless man looked out the window instead. Besides, they had a barrier between them and the backseat. Marcus pointed at it.

"What he might do to himself concerned me more," Scott explained.

"Thanks. That makes me feel appreciated," Marcus laughed. "I'm sure it will be fine," he added, holding the pad and pen up in front of the man in the backseat. "Could you write answers to our questions?" Marcus asked. The man nodded, so Marcus pushed the items through the gap on his side of the barrier.

"What's your name?" Scott asked.

They turned to see him raise the pad. He had written "Clyde" on the page.

"Okay, Clyde, what were you doing in that alley?" Scott continued.

"Escaped from the tower," he wrote.

"What were you doing in the tower?" Marcus asked.

"They experimented on me."

"Experimented? What kind of experiments?" Scott asked.

"They took my blood."

"And did what?" Marcus asked, but the video screen beeped, making him jump. He hadn't realized how tense he had become.

"Yeah, Joan?" Scott said after pressing the button.

"Quinn says to come in immediately and don't mention the perp over the radio again. Also, he says to wait until you arrive to question the suspect."

Scott and Marcus looked at the notepad in the man's hand and grimaced. "Got it," Scott muttered. Once they hung up the call, Scott said, "We don't have to tell Quinn about the questions."

"Agreed," Marcus replied. He asked the skinless man to return the pad and pen and then stuffed the items in his coat pocket.

The drive back to the station took little time. They pulled up to the back of the building, where they processed everyone.

"Uh oh," Scott said as he spotted Captain Quinn waiting for them. Quinn stood with his hands in his pockets and stared at their car with an indecipherable expression. Not that you could ever discern how he felt. Quinn always looked like an ill-tempered bulldog, even when he was happy. Scott took only one step out of the car before Quinn spoke.

"Don't take him out of the car yet! Close the doors and come over here first."

Scott and Marcus did as they were told and approached without a word.

"Hank will bring him to a cell, but you two need to come with me," Quinn continued and gestured toward the man behind him. Scott didn't even see Hank standing in the shadow of the building. They nodded and followed their boss through the door. He led them to his office and told them to sit before closing the door and the blinds. "As far as you are concerned, this incident never happened. You won't file a report, and you will not talk to anybody about this. In fact, if you even bring it up to me again, I will fire both of you."

Scott looked at Marcus with his mouth hanging open. He didn't know how to respond, and neither did Marcus.

"I don't understand," Scott said.

"I know, and I want it that way. The less you know, the better. It's for your own good."

"But," Marcus started to say, but Quinn silenced him with a raised hand.

"No more questions. I can't give you more information, and don't dig any deeper. Trust me. Drop this and pretend it never happened."

"Yes, sir," both men replied. Marcus felt the notepad in his pocket, but he didn't mention it or show it to Quinn.

***

Inside the royal tower, a man hurried along at a pace that was almost a run but slow enough to remain professional. He muttered curses under his breath that he thought only he could hear. Those who noticed gave him a wide berth because they heard the rumors. No one wanted to be in this man's shoes. When he reached the Science & Research Department door, he hesitated with his hand outstretched. Did he dare open those double doors, or should he turn around and leave now? His hand seemed to decide for him. He entered the room and approached the gray-haired man at the window of laboratory #12.

Victor Snyder observed the current experiment with his arms half-folded and a hand on his chin. He heard the man take a deep breath, but he didn't turn to face him. The messenger would speak once he regained his composure, so Victor allowed him the time.

"Sir, they located the escaped specimen," the man said.

"Where is he?" Victor asked without shifting his gaze away from the room.

"The Royal Guard picked him up."

This made Victor turn. The look in his eyes backed the man up a step. He knew Victor would fire him, or worse.

"What were the guards' names?"

"Marcus Hamilton and Scott Drummond, sir. But Captain Quinn assured me they would remain silent."

"I know Hamilton. We can trust him, but I don't know the other one. Tell Quinn to send me his file," Victor replied. His voice never rose, which left the man conflicted. He preferred yelling because the calm demeanor somehow made him more nervous.

"Yes, sir."

"Any word on how the specimen escaped?"

"We believe a lab tech left the door to his room unlocked, sir."

"On purpose?"

"I don't know."

"Who was this lab tech?"

"Blake Cordell, sir."

"That's a shame. I liked him. Put him in a cell, and the king will deal with him personally."

"Yes, sir," the man said, but his voice cracked, making Victor smirk. The messenger knew what this meant and didn't like condemning poor Blake that way. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice. He tried to occupy his mind with other thoughts, but any hope of that died when he glanced into the laboratory. Victor had a skinless man strapped to a table. One of the researchers had just drawn his blood, which agitated the subject. The messenger saw his muscles contracting and straining beneath his translucent skin. The sight made the messenger feel ill. The poor test subject thrashed against his restraints. Yet it didn't faze Snyder. He had seen this too often to care.

"You might not want to watch the rest," Victor said without looking at the man. "I can practically hear your bile rising. You can leave."

"Thank you, sir," the messenger said and hurried away.