THE PHOENIX AND THE FORM: Chapter Five

 Victor’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of a knock on the van's back doors. He froze for a moment, his mind racing through possibilities. Slowly, he rose from his seat, put down the headphones, and approached the doors. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and opened the door a crack, peering out cautiously.

To his surprise, a finely dressed middle-aged man was there. He wore a striking black tuxedo, the suede shawl lapel adding a subtle touch of sophistication. His dark checkered pants, with barely visible dark green lines, hinted at a level of detail that spoke to both wealth and, a discerning eye for fashion. His mirror-shined loafers were immaculate. He was carrying a black cane with a silver wolf’s head for a handle, and emeralds beset in the head for eyes. On his lapel was an emerald mistletoe brooch.

“Good evening?” he said, the liquor on his breath nearly knocking Victor back on his heels. He had to try his best not to flinch at it. “Good evening,” he responded, half holding his breath as he stepped out of the van. It was then that Victor noticed just how tall the man was, significantly taller than him, and Victor was tall.

The man stretched out his hand, a goofy half-drunk smile on his face. On his hand, he wore a silver ring on his index finger in the shape of an ouroboros, with tiny black pearls for eyes. Victor took his hand and shook it, realizing how massive the man’s hands were. They stood there shaking hands in silence, until it was awkward.

For all intents and purposes, he appeared quite drunk, his stature unsteady and his gaze unfocused. “How can I help you?” Victor asked, holding on to the car door so the man couldn’t see inside.

“Oh, I’m looking for my car. I seem to have lost it.” He said, finally letting go of Victor’s hands.

Victor quickly assessed the situation, maintaining his composure. The last thing he needed was a scene that could draw unwanted attention. He glanced at the man’s attire and demeanor, recognizing him as a guest from the party—likely someone with enough clout to cause trouble if not handled properly. “Have you tried the parking lot on the castle grounds?” he asked.

“Well, the parking lot has disappeared. I came towards the gate and it wasn’t there!” he explained.

There was a chime from the computer in the van. Victor’s head swiveled to look, pulling his attention back to the screens. “Well, you might want to try the eastern gate. That’s where the parking lot is.” He said, turning his head back to face the man, only to find there was no one there. The man was gone. Victor left the van’s door open and looked around the van. He searched the nearby area. He was alone.

It was as if the man had vanished into thin air. An uneasy feeling crept up Victor’s spine, but the computer chimed again.

Shaking off the unease, Victor climbed back into the truck, closing the door behind him. The interior was now filled with the soft hum of the electronics and the steady stream of data from Prometheus.

“Victor, Victor…” came the sound from the headphones. He put them on. “Victor, are you in the van yet?”

“I’m here,” he said.

“Okay.” Blue said with a low sigh. She turned on her bracelet and asked, “How am I looking?”

Victor examined the screens. He could see her on her tracker screen. She was standing directly in front of a camera in the entrance hall, yet looking at the camera feeds, she wasn’t there. She was practically invisible.

“You’re good. I can’t see you on their camera feeds,” Victor confirmed.

Back in the entrance hall, Blue drained her glass of champagne.

“Okay, I’m heading to the vault now.” She said.

She began heading toward the opening of a corridor, weaving her way gracefully through the guests. As she emerged from the crowd, she approached the threshold but swiveled as guards poured into the entrance hall.

She froze, casting a subtle glance at the other exits around the hall. Guards were pouring into the hall from all of them. She looked at the castle doors and noticed three guards standing at ease.

There was a noise from the landing of the staircase. She turned to look. It was Harrington shouting at a guard, who nodded curtly and left. Disappearing into the castle. Harrington walked to the overlook from the landing and raised a glass of champagne, “Dear friends! Honored guests! It is now time for us to retire to the dining hall for our meals, the guards are here to escort us there, so don’t be alarmed. Everything is in order.” He said and disappeared into the castle after the guard.

“Prometheus?” Blue asked, a slight panic in her voice.

“A guest has alerted the security staff about a suspicious van parked near the castle grounds. Reynolds has enacted the hostage protocols. The security team has moved half the guards to the entrance hall to secure the high-profile guests. They have also secreted Lord Harrington off to a panic room, along with the very important persons and their own contingent of guards. Additionally, they have delegated half of the remaining guards to the parking lot to guard the vehicles and the staff. Finally, the leftover guards are continuing their patrols within the castle”

“A guest? From the dinner party?” Victor asked, the concerned tone in his voice obvious.

“Victor?” Blue asked.

“There was a man here! I… I thought he was drunk!” He informed them.

“What did he look like?” Blue asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

“He was tall, like, very tall. He had a cane, and a nice suit too, with a green lapel pin of some kind.”

“Did he have a ring?” she asked.

“Yes… of… a snake?” Victor said, unsure. Blue went quiet.

“Get ready to leave. I’m calling the op off.” She said solemnly.

“What!? Why!? Because of the man? Who is he?” Victor inquired.

“That’s not important, just… get ready to leave, okay!” She said, her voice raised; some guests eyed her.

“Oh, c’mon. We’ve gotten this far—” Victor protested.

“Victor, it’s too dangerous.” Blue insisted, “this man, he…”

“He what?” Victor asked, his words laced with irritation.

“He’s too dangerous. I’m not willing to risk you, not if he’s involved.” She explained.

“Really? You dragged me all the way from Nairobi? For this?” Victor continued. The silence stretched on.

“I can’t believe this,” He finally added in exasperation.

“Perhaps Ms. Blue has a point Victor. With the increased alertness of the guards, it might not be wise to pursue the operation further. Our likelihood of success is greatly diminished. Especially considering Ms. Blue has limited options for evading the guards, seeing as how she is surrounded, and very conspicuously dressed.”

Victor fell silent. “Well what if I go?” He finally said.

“Victor—” Blue began.

“If they have moved most of the guards to the parking lot and entrance hall, it means there is a far less likelihood that I would be caught if I use the west gate and the kitchen side entrance to get inside, yes?” Victor asked.

“Yes, this is true Victor, your chances of getting to the vault are far higher than those of Ms. Blue,” Prometheus confirmed.

“And you can make the biometric scan read anyone as Lord Harrington, correct?” Victor asked.

“Yes, Victor, that is also accurate.” The AI confirmed again.

“Then I see no reason I shouldn’t go,” Victor said defiantly.

“Your analysis is astute, Victor. However, it is important to note that it has now been forty minutes since you activated the first repeater.” Prometheus pointed out.

“Then I’ll just have to work quickly.” Victor said, his voice determined. “Blue?” He asked.

Blue sighed deeply. “Fine Victor, but please, be careful.”

“There is something else to consider Victor,” Prometheus said

“Oh yeah. What’s that?” Victor asked.

“You have two minutes before the west gate closes.”

Victor sprang to his feet and navigated towards the back of the van. There, his waiter’s uniform awaited, meticulously folded. In a flurry of motion, he shed his cargo pants and jacket, their utilitarian form replaced by the crisp white shirt, black vest, and trousers. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tied the bow tie.

“Prometheus, keep me updated on any changes in the guard’s positions,” he instructed, his voice steady.

“Affirmative Victor. Proceed with caution,” Prometheus replied.

Victor stepped out of the van, the cool night air hitting his face. It was dark and quiet. The only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the castle’s generators. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the grounds, adding an eerie beauty to the scene.

He moved swiftly; his footsteps—barely audible on the concrete path that led from the van to the west gate. The air was crisp, and Victor felt a slight chill as he navigated through the shadows, staying close to the tall hedges that lined the path. The castle’s imposing structure loomed ahead.

As he approached the west gate, Victor’s heart rate quickened.

“One minute left Victor,” Prometheus’ voice echoed in his ear.

Victor took a deep breath and quickened his pace, slipping through the gate. The courtyard beyond was dimly lit, the shadows providing ample cover as he made his way across the open space. He kept his movements smooth and deliberate, mindful of any sudden sounds that might betray his presence.

A soft but distinct hum caught his attention. He froze. His eyes scanned the area. Looking up, he saw it. A drone; sleek and ominous, its red light blinking rhythmically as it hovered into view.

Victor held his breath as the drone drifted closer, its camera panning methodically. The mechanical whirring grew louder as it approached, the red light casting an eerie glow on him. He watched the drone, his eyes never leaving its panning camera. It hovered dangerously close, its sensors fixated on the exact spot where he was standing.

The drone lingered, its camera lens adjusting wildly. Victor remained perfectly still, his muscles tense.

After what felt like an eternity, the drone seemed to lose interest. It hovered for a few more seconds before slowly drifting away, continuing its patrol of the courtyard. Victor exhaled slowly, the tension in his body easing slightly.

With the drone now a safe distance away, Victor resumed his path to the side entrance. The door was just ahead, the soft glow of the kitchen lights spilling out into the night. He slipped inside, the warmth of the kitchen enveloping him once more.

He let out a deep breath and leaned on the door. “You didn’t think to mention the drones?”

“Drones?” asked Blue.

“Yes, releasing the drones is part of the hostage protocol. How did you know Victor?”

He grunted, “Never mind.”

Victor looked around. The once-bustling kitchen was now empty. Ingredients and foodstuffs lay everywhere, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

Victor moved swiftly through the kitchen. The heat and the aromas from the food faded behind him as he slipped into the quieter corridors of the castle. Warmth gave way to the cool, dimly lit hallways, lined with tapestries and portraits of stern-faced ancestors. The soft glow of wall sconces casting long shadows, added to the castle’s mystique.

Victor moved deeper into the heart of the castle. He took a right turn, following the corridor until it branched off to the left. The sound of his breathing was the only noise in the stillness, each breath echoing slightly off the stone walls.

He continued down the hall, taking another right turn, then a left, and finally another right. His route was etched into his mind, each turn bringing him closer to his goal. The corridors here were narrower and more secluded, this far from the main areas. The air was cooler, and the shadows seemed to deepen with each step.

At the end of the final hallway, Victor saw his destination: the doors to the vault. They were imposing and ornate; he quickened his pace, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he reached the vault doors, Prometheus’s voice crackled softly in his earpiece. “Victor, I must inform you that you have one minute before the guard rounds the corner.”

Victor’s eyes widened with urgency. He let out a deep breath. The vault’s biometric scanners loomed before him, emitting a soft red glow ready to test his fingerprints and retinal scans.

He stretched out his hand, his black metallic bracelet still tied around his wrist. He pressed his finger against the scanner and leaned in for the retinal scan. A red laser quickly scanned up and down his face. Then… nothing!

Blue’s footsteps echoed on the cobblestone path as she headed toward the eastern gate. She had caused a small scene, demanding to be let out by the guards to get to her car. The guards had relented after a go-ahead from their higher-ups. She had told them she would head to the parking lot for her car, but she had another vehicle in mind entirely.

She reached the eastern gate and stepped onto the street, turning left as she went. She took off her heels and started running down the sidewalk. Perhaps she could get to the van in time.

Victor stood before the vault doors, staring at the scanner, heart hammering in his chest. The red glow bathed his face, cold and unyielding.

Five seconds. Nothing.

Ten. Still nothing.

Thirty. His stomach twisted.

“Prometheus?” he whispered, voice cracking. Sweat formed at his temples.

Silence.

Thirty-five.

Forty. His breath quickened. He could hear the guard, the same guard as before, singing off-key. This time it was an ancient pop song from the 2010s or something.

Forty-five.

“Prometheus!” Victor hissed, fists clenched. His throat tightened. A bead of sweat slid down his brow. He could almost feel the guard rounding the corner.

Then—green. The scanner flashed. There was a loud clinking sound from inside the door. He shoved the door open and slipped through, breath ragged, pulse pounding, then slowly closed the door behind him. There was another clinking sound, and the door was shut. He pressed his back against the door, holding his breath. The guard stomped past, his singing undisturbed. He hadn’t noticed. Victor exhaled, sinking to the floor. He was in.

Raymond Reynolds stood in the security room, a fortress within a fortress, deep within the castle’s fortified tower. The room’s stone walls and wooden beams were relics of the past, but the array of high-tech equipment was spread out across the space. The contrast was stark but oddly harmonious, a seamless integration of medieval aesthetics with cutting-edge technology.

Reynolds, the head of security, took his position at the large central table that dominated the room, showered in the cold, sterile light from the surveillance screens that lined the wall opposite him.

The screens displayed live feeds from strategically placed cameras covering every critical point of the castle: gates, walls, courtyards, entrance hall, corridors, dining hall. On his sides were different screens. On his left was the drone footage, and on his right were the technicians responsible for the AI security system. Each screen was a window into a distinct part of the fortress, monitored by the team of surveillance operators seated in front of them. The operators, trained to detect the slightest hint of trouble, were Reynolds’ eyes, the guards doing their patrols—his ears; scanning for any signs of intrusion or suspicious activity, working seamlessly with the AI system.

Reynolds was an imposing figure, with a demeanor that brooked no nonsense. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and his mind worked like a well-oiled machine, constantly analyzing and strategizing. His authority was undisputed, and the security team, comprised of guards, technicians, and surveillance operators, operated like clockwork under his command.

The AI security system was his silent partner in this endeavor. Intrusion detection algorithms scanned the feeds, flagging anomalies, while behavioral analysis programs distinguished friend from foe. Automated alerts were primed to notify Reynolds and his team of any potential threats instantly.

Technicians moved around the room, maintaining and calibrating the equipment. Their expertise kept the sophisticated system running smoothly, their presence a testament to the complex layers of security that shielded the castle.

A bunch of IT guys, now an integral part of his security team, he never thought he would see the day. It had been a headache getting them to coordinate with the more rough and burly army guys he had kept on since his army days. But times changed, and those who couldn’t get with the program didn’t get to eat.

Even he had to go back to school, for a degree in machine learning. But even despite that, he still felt like a lughead compared to some kids he had working for him. He wondered if one day, the AIs would even replace him.

He had initiated hostage protocol thanks to the report from the guest earlier, about a strange van parked on the side of the road with a suspicious man inside. But now, even as the drones continued their surveillance, Reynolds couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. His instincts, honed by years of experience, told him to be on high alert.

“Sir,” an operator called out, “we have an anomaly,” he said, his voice tinged with confusion.

Raymond approached the operator’s station, his eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

The operator gestured to his screen. “The AI logged Lord Harrington as having entered the vault. But his tracker shows he’s currently in the panic room.”

Raymond’s brow furrowed. “What are the camera feeds showing? Could they be on a loop?”

The operator shook his head. “Unlikely. Ten seconds after the AI logs the vault door opening, the feeds show Rupert doing his rounds in that area. He crosses by the vault door, and the camera feeds don’t even show the vault door opening at all.”

Raymond leaned in closer, scrutinizing the footage. “And Rupert’s tracker data?”

The operator quickly pulled up the tracker data. “They line up perfectly with what appears on the camera feeds. Rupert was right where he’s supposed to be.”

Raymond’s mind raced. “So, Lord Harrington’s tracker shows him in the panic room, but the AI says he’s in the vault. The camera feeds confirm Rupert’s rounds without evidence of the vault door opening. This doesn’t add up,” Reynolds mused.

The operator nodded, his face reflecting the perplexity of the situation. Reynolds straightened, his eyes cold and calculating. “Could the AI be malfunctioning?”

The operator considered this for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s plausible, but the AI just ran a diagnostic an hour ago. There weren’t any reports of a malfunction or errors.”

He walked over to another terminal, pulling up the live feed from the panic room. The room, filled with the most important guests, seemed normal. Raymond’s eyes searched for Lord Harrington, spotting him engaged in conversation near the center of the room.

“There he is,” Raymond muttered to himself. “So who’s in the vault?”

A sense of unease settled over him. His mind returned to the suspicious van parked outside. It had been an unsettling detail, one that now seemed more than just a coincidence. Combined with the current anomaly from the AI, it painted a troubling picture.

The AI had never malfunctioned in such a manner before. It was designed to be nearly infallible, yet here it was, presenting contradictory information. The van, the AI anomaly, and a potential intruder in the vault—something wasn’t right.

Raymond turned back to the operator. “Keep monitoring all feeds and trackers closely. Report any discrepancies immediately. And ensure the drones remain active around the grounds. We can’t afford any lapses.”

The operator nodded, his eyes never leaving his screens. “Understood.”

“Claire!” He called out. Claire stepped up to him. “Get me Rupert on comms now.” She nodded and left.

Reynolds turned to the operator and said, “Good job.” The man looking at Reynolds nodded.

Claire arrived with the radio. Reynolds grabbed it from her hand. “Rupert!” He said into the radio.

Rupert’s voice came in from his side, “I try my best to keep her satisfied… keep her coming every night…da da da da da da…”

Raymond’s brow twitched. “Rupert!?” he called again, louder this time.

“This love has taken its toll on me., she said goodbye too many times befor…oooh…oooh…”

“RUPERT!”

“Yep, yep! Yeah—yes, sir!” Chuckles and gags sounded throughout the room.

“Get to the vault! NOW!” Reynolds ordered.

Victor stood up. A dim, ambient light cast long shadows across the room, illuminating the treasures that lay within. Victor’s breath echoed softly; the silence broken only by the frantic rhythm of his own heart hammering against his ribs.

Immediately, his gaze was drawn to the center of the room, where the skeletal remains of a ship dominated the space. The mast rose majestically towards the ceiling; its dark wood—a stark contrast against the stone walls. Each plank was worn yet sturdy, its frame sprawling out, its presence commanding his attention. It seemed to glitch in time, the planks of wood seeming to flicker, and mend themselves in an impossible dance; a constant state of decay and renewal. It was an eerie sight.

He tore his gaze away from the impossible vessel, drawn to a massive horn suspended from the ceiling by iron chains. Its surface was etched with fiery runes, that seemed to writhe and twist in the dim light. The horn’s sheer scale making it one of the most imposing objects in the vault.

To the ship’s right, lying on a slab of dirt cut from the ground, was a sledgehammer with a short handle. The hammer’s head, easily five times the size of an average one, shimmered with an otherworldly metallic sheen. It had runes etched into it, and a quiet formidable strength, that drew Victor’s eyes, exuded from it.

His gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the wonders. Mounted on the walls were a series of weapons. On his right, a circular shield with a polished bronze surface and the face of a medusa at its center, hung. Serpents along the rim appeared almost alive, invoking a mix of awe and terror in Victor’s chest. Beside it hung a spear of gleaming obsidian, its blade honed to a razor’s edge. Its shaft was inscribed with runes that pulsed with a faint blue light. On the other side of the shield was a trident that gleamed with a golden sheen. Ocean waves and mermaids, embroidered onto its shaft.

Mounted on the opposite wall was an amulet, its centerpiece a vivid azure eye, surrounded by protective wings, crafted from a shimmering gold. The intricate carvings on the amulet seemed to shift and flow, and Victor felt an unsettling sensation, a prickling at the back of his neck as if the eye followed his every move.

As he ventured further into the vault, another artifact caught his eye: a shimmering fleece draped over a mannequin. Golden strands, each woven with intricate care, shifted colors with the light, morphing from deep amber to radiant gold. The fleece seemed almost alive, pulsating with a faint inner light. Crowning the mannequin wearing the fleece was a golden wig, each strand shimmering like molten gold, cascading down in perfect, lustrous waves. The hair seemed to catch every glimmer of light, amplifying it, and lending an otherworldly glow to the entire figure. In the dimness, the mannequin appeared almost divine, a forgotten goddess frozen in time.

On a pedestal of black marble, a dark, intricately carved, pitch-black box, sat ominously. The box seemed to pulsate with a faint, black miasma, its lid slightly ajar. A faint, black mist seeped out from the crack, casting dancing shadows on the walls that writhed and twisted like phantoms. Victor felt a wave of nausea as he approached, the box radiating an aura of pure evil.

Resting in a glass case was a stone, its surface veined with streaks of vibrant crimson, azure, and gold. The stone radiated a warm, almost inviting heat, and seemed to emit a faint, melodic hum that resonated deep within Victor’s bones. He stood in the vault, a lone figure dwarfed by the immensity of the treasures surrounding him, his mouth agape in a mixture of awe and terror.

Blue’s breath came in quick, sharp bursts as she rounded the corner of the castle, the cool night air biting at her exposed skin. Her feet, now bare, stung from the pebbled ground, but she pushed forward and made her way toward the western gate, her destination clear: the van.

But as she neared the western side of the castle grounds, she stopped dead in her tracks. From the shadows, she spotted a cluster of drones hovering ominously around the van, their mechanical whirs barely audible over her pounding heart. Three security guards loomed by the back doors of the van. One guard had just disembarked, inspecting the area with a flashlight in hand.

Blue’s heart sank. She spun on her heel, cursing under her breath. The gravel crunched softly beneath her feet as she began walking briskly back the way she came. Her mind raced as she tapped her earpiece.

“Victor,” the voice came in over the earpiece, “are you in the vault?”

“I’m… in the vault! Yeah!” He said.

“We’ve got a problem. The guards have the van surrounded. There are drones all over it—”

“So how do we get out!?” He retorted, the situation at hand pulling him out of his stupor.

Blue sighed. “You need to get the artifact,” she said.

“And how will the artifact get us out?!” he hissed. She sighed again. “Just find it.” She demanded. There was a silence from Victor. “Okay,” he said with a sigh, “what am I looking for?”

“You’re looking for a small glass case with a compass needle inside.”

“Come again?”

Blue let out an even deeper sigh this time around. “You’re looking for a small glass case with a compass needle inside.”

“Compass needle?” he repeated.

“Yes!” Blue said.

“Okay!” he said as he scanned the room. He walked around, examining the variety of objects in the room. He circumvented the ship to the other side of the room.

Golden rings, lay in a pile in one corner, at the base of a statue of a golden fat man. Golden balls with dragonfly wings, flittered about in a glass tank. In another corner; a cast-iron pot, full of gold inside. On top of a pedestal, a giant opal stone shaped like an egg, but right next to the ship, he saw an empty glass case.

He approached it, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing inside.

“I found a glass case, but there doesn’t seem to be anything inside.”

“That’s the one!” Blue whispered. “Are you sure? Look again!”

“Victor,” Prometheus’ voice came over the earpiece, “a guard has been alerted and is on his way to the vault now.”

“What!?” Victor shouted.

“S#@t,” Blue cursed, “Victor just… check again!”

Victor looked into the glass box again, and there, floating in the middle of the glass box, was a small compass needle, pointing upward. Victor frowned, not believing his eyes. Mouth slightly ajar, he moved closer to observe it better. Yes. At the center of the glass case, was a compass needle… levitating. It seemed to be made of the same alloy Blue’s wand was made of, the lights inside the glass case making it almost sparkle.

“Victor, do you see it?” Blue asked

“Yeah,” Victor said in wonder.

“Victor, the guard is about to enter the vault,” Prometheus said.

There was a loud clinking at the door. Victor heard it creak open and cursed under his breath as he squatted, trying to make himself smaller.

“Hello, is anyone in here?” A voice called out.

“Victor, you have to get to it somehow!” Said Blue, urgency in her voice.

“How?!”

“Break the glass,” she said.

“With what?!”

“I don’t know!” She said, “Find something!”

Victor looked around the room. He saw the spear and the trident but knew they wouldn’t do the job. Then he looked at the hammer.

He peered around the ship. The guard was looking the other way, admiring the treasures in the room. Victor half-stood, half-crouched to the hammer. He placed both his hands on it and pulled.

Victor had not lifted anything that heavy, in a long time. He suspected that perhaps the hammerhead was made of tungsten. He hauled it to the glass case and in a slow and painful process brought it up to his chin, then held it out over the glass case, letting it drop.

The noise resounded through the room. The hammer fell to the floor, landing right next to Victor’s foot, missing it by an inch and cracking the ceramic tiles underneath.

“Hey!? Who’s there!?” came the call from the guard.

The compass needle rose higher in the air, its tip pointing at the ceiling, until it was hovering at about Victor’s eye level; the flat face of it, turning slightly, as if to look at him.

“What now!?” Victor whispered, his tone panicked, his gaze fixed on the compass needle.

“Grab it!” Blue said

“What!?” Victor intoned.

“Grab it Victor just grab it!” She shouted.

Victor stood there for a moment, staring at the compass needle, then he reached out, and grabbed it.

Rupert’s heart threatened to explode out of his chest. Not knowing what to expect, he carefully made his way to the source of the sound, his steps measured, his pistol drawn out in front of him. He rounded the ship, gun drawn out, arms extended. A look of determination on his face. A look, that slowly morphed, into one of confusion.

He stepped out further behind the ship, scanning the area, his gun lowering.

“Rupert report!” Came the order over the radio.

“Um…”

“What!? What is it, Rupert!?”

“Um… hmm… ah!”

“What!? What is it!? Out with it man!” Barked Reynolds over the radio.

“Sir!” Rupert began in a confused tone. “There’s no one here!”

In the quiet solitude of the night, Blue’s villa exuded an aura of tranquil elegance. Bathed in the soft silver glow of the moon filtering through the expansive windows, each room seemed to breathe with a deep sense of calm. Polished, cool, and inviting marble floors mirrored the muted luminescence of the moonlight. The air was still, punctuated only by the gentle flutter of curtains, stirred by an occasional breeze.

In this profound stillness, Victor appeared, materializing out of thin air; the silence enveloping him like a shroud. The villa’s AI detected his presence, triggering the soft illumination of lights. His eyes widened in disbelief, taking in the familiar yet surreal surroundings of Blue’s villa. Just moments ago, he had been standing in the cold ancient vault of Lord Harrington’s castle. Now, the warmth and modernity of the villa engulfed him, its serene ambiance contrasting with the tension of the heist they had just been orchestrating.

Victor’s breath caught in his throat as realization slowly dawned on him. His gaze swept across the polished floors, the elegant furnishings, and the gentle play of light through the expansive windows. He stood motionless, caught between two worlds, grappling with the abrupt shift from stealth and danger to the calm embrace of Blue’s empty home. The gentle glow of the lights accentuating the surreal moment.

The compass needle in Victor’s hand twitched, its movement pulling his hand along with it. Startled, he released it, and it hovered in the air before him. Suspended by some unseen force, it floated effortlessly, its delicate point aiming upward, as it slowly rotated, surveying its surroundings.

Victor watched, mouth agape, as the compass needle ventured through the home with an eerie grace. As it glided through the air, it would orient itself by aiming its point towards its chosen direction. It glided through rooms and corridors, navigating the house as if in curiosity. Its movements generated a soft, whistling sound as it sliced through the air, its autonomous flight reveling in the villa’s serene beauty from every angle. It danced around corners, traced the elegant lines of furniture, and floated effortlessly past the shimmering curtains.

The surreal sight left Victor bewildered. He sank into a nearby chair, his mind racing with questions and amazement. How was this possible? What other secrets, did Blue hold?

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Contents