The sun was setting, casting slanted rays that spilled over the city, breaking into soft golden beams through the forest of high-rises. But deep in the heart of the old district, where sunlight barely reached, the alleys were already in shadow.

A faint chill lingered in the humid air, standing in stark contrast to the dry warmth outside the alley. Tiny shards of melting frost lay between bricks as subtle traces—evidence that something strange had happened here.

In the narrow space between buildings, quick-moving shadows leapt through the air, landing at the corner of the alley. They shifted and settled, taking on the blurry shapes of wolves. These hazy, dark figures prowled, sniffing the ground before gathering together. The lead shadow lifted its head, letting out a long howl into the evening sky.

“Awoooo—”

A rock sailed through the air, clocking the wolf squarely on the head mid-howl, cutting it off. From a nearby shadow came a sharp, irritable voice, “Hey! Cut the howling—you’re in the city! And don’t try adding a bark at the end; people aren’t that clueless. No one’s gonna think you’re just a dog!”

The wolves let out a few low, almost apologetic whines, slinking back to the shadows. From down the alley, a girl stepped forward, moving toward the spot where the body lay.

She couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, with a short bob of dark hair and a black skirt paired with a deep red jacket. A stray lock of hair pointed upward from her brow, a quirky touch against her calm, oddly mature expression. She walked past the hunched wolves without a glance and stopped at the side of the man’s body, slumped against the alley wall.

For a second, her eyes darkened as she took in the scene. She knelt by the body, inspecting it while one of the wolf-like shadows crept up beside her, letting out a low, rumbling growl that seemed to pass along some information.

“...smells like rain?” She frowned, casting a skeptical glance up at the sky. The weather had been clear for days, and though the sun was nearly gone, the sky between the high-rises still held traces of clear blue, with not a single cloud in sight.

After a moment, something seemed to click. She lowered her head to inspect the horrific wound in the man’s chest and muttered to herself, “Rain… the heart’s missing… and there’s that awful stench, like frog slime.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts. The ringtone was a nostalgic tune from an old-school TV show.

She answered just as the theme hit its fourth note.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she said, bringing the phone to her ear and motioning to the wolves to keep guard. “I’m here. My wolves noticed something was off… but the target got away. Came up empty-handed.”

She sighed, glancing back at the corpse.

“It was a ‘rain event,’ which materialized into a ‘rain frog.’ But this rain was only a partial projection, limited to one individual… Yeah, unlucky guy. A rain meant just for him. It stopped by the time I got here, and the area’s depth stabilized back to Level 0. The rain’s disconnected from the Borderland.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The voice on the other end continued, giving instructions, and she listened, one ear on the phone, the other keeping track of the alley around her.

“Medical team? Just send someone to handle the body. No way an ordinary person survives a rain frog attack—his heart’s gone, for crying out loud. Yeah, I’ll stay here until they arrive. And hey, make sure my overtime gets logged.”

A low murmur came through the phone, but she was already zoning out, ending the call with a few mumbled responses before hanging up.

She let out a long breath and stepped back, motioning one of the shadow-wolves to lie down beside her. Sitting cross-legged on its back, she rested her chin in her hands, staring at the man’s lifeless form.

“Tough break, guy. Wonder if you had family, or if you were just out here alone,” she said softly. “Guess I’ll keep you company for a bit. Dying alone in the rain like that… must’ve been freezing.”

She sat there, talking quietly to herself while waiting for the cleanup crew. A few minutes later, a loud rumbling echoed from down the street—a deep, clanging roar, like an old-school garbage truck dragging metal crates over asphalt speed bumps. Even the wolf she was sitting on flinched at the noise, though it stayed still beneath her.

Turning toward the sound, she saw a beat-up van shuddering its way down the road, bouncing and rattling over the bumps like an old clunker on its last legs.

She climbed off the wolf’s back, watching with faint amusement as the van lurched over the bumps and finally rolled to a stop. Several men piled out, dressed head-to-toe in tactical black, loaded with enough gear to look like they were about to invade a small country. They grunted and shuffled around to the back of the van, pushing it forward.

A middle-aged man with broad shoulders and a tan jacket climbed out of the passenger seat, followed by a young woman with chestnut-brown hair and a crisp white dress. The two shared a long-suffering glance as they watched their teammates struggle with the van before walking toward her.

When they were close enough, she raised an eyebrow. “Can’t your team request a new van? Seems like the Special Ops budget could cover it. I’d bet any one of your team’s gadgets would pay for a replacement.”

“Shh!” The older man waved his hand, casting a quick glance back at the van and his struggling team. “Keep it down. You don’t understand the situation. We’ve got, uh… special budget allocations. Today’s just a fluke; this van isn’t going anywhere.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced, and turned her attention to the young woman in white. “Good evening, Dr. Samantha Murphy. Long time no see.”

“It’s practically night now, Little Red Riding Hood,” Dr. Murphy replied with a faint smile. Her lips were thin, her expression restrained. “How’s that arm of yours?”

“Pretty much healed up,” Little Red Riding Hood said, rolling her wrist a bit. “You know how it is. Wolves bounce back fast.”

“Actually, humans are the real recovery champs—just too averse to injury to test it out,” Dr. Murphy replied with a wry smile.

The girl grunted in vague agreement, turning her attention back to the body. “Right, let’s get to it. Victim here—male, maybe mid-twenties, heart ripped out by the rain frog. Looks like he died about two hours ago. I haven’t checked his pockets… just preserving the scene.”

She shot Dr. Murphy a look, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Did you really come out here just for this? You think there’s something you can do?”

Dr. Murphy shook her head, kneeling by the body with a sigh. “I’m no miracle worker. Just thought I’d check things out. My place isn’t far.”

She examined the body, confirming the wounds, checking for any personal items, and eventually found a slim ID card.

“Name’s Nathan Cole, twenty-four, registered address on Sycamore Lane in the old district,” she said, flipping the card to compare the ID photo to the body’s face. “Captain Tony Gregson, you’ll want to run this through the system, see if he has any family.”

Captain Gregson, the middle-aged man, leaned over for a look and frowned. “Why’s the photo so smeared?”

Little Red Riding Hood tilted her head, intrigued, and stepped in for a closer look. The photo looked as if it had been smudged with soot, the face on the ID obscured beyond recognition.

“Can’t even make out his name,” she muttered. “And the ID number’s unreadable too. You’ll have to run it through a chip reader at the station.”

Captain Gregson sighed, glancing at the body with a twinge of regret. “Shame. If we could just ID him here… there’s not much else to go on.”

Dr. Murphy nodded, looking at the rain-washed bloodstains barely visible on the ground. “...Without a body, it’s hard to pin down exactly what happened.”

Little Red Riding Hood watched them in thought, her eyes shifting between Dr. Murphy and Captain Gregson, before glancing around the alley again. “Evening, Doctor.”

“Good evening, Little Red Riding Hood,” Dr. Murphy replied, her gaze warming slightly. “Any trouble on patrol?”

Little Red Riding Hood stroked one of the nearby wolves, her voice soft. “This area had a rain event, and a rain frog might’ve manifested, but no one else got caught up in it.”

Dr. Murphy seemed to relax. “Glad to hear that.”

In the background, the old van’s engine roared to life, coughing and sputtering before settling into a low rumble. The officers who’d been pushing it staggered over, catching their breath. Their lead officer approached Captain Gregson with a sheepish grin. “Van’s back up and running, Captain. Shall we…?”

Captain Gregson nodded, starting toward his team with a quick nod to Little Red Riding Hood and Dr. Murphy.

“All right, back to the station. And don’t forget to give Dr. Murphy a lift.”