Reid reclined in his comfortable chair, a vintage piece he'd picked up from some obscure shop that dealt in rare collectibles. He had a psychological paper splayed open on his lap, and Jill, his exotic shorthair cat, lazily pawed at the pages. Despite the academic jargon that crowded the paper, Reid found himself intermittently distracted, half-listening to the gentle evening rain tap-dancing on his windows.
His wrist tingled as his government-issued communicator vibrated. For a moment, Reid stared at it, contemplating the merits of a world without tracking devices. In a society where Abilities had brought unparalleled advantages and equally devastating risks, the communicator served a dual role: a marvel of technological convenience and a leash for those with potentially lethal powers.
Finally, Reid shifted Jill onto the adjacent chair—she gave him a look of betrayal, as if he'd disturbed a sacred ritual—and flicked his wrist to activate the communicator's holographic display. When he saw that the incoming message was from Edward Tay, a smirk unfurled across his lips like a red carpet at a movie premiere. "Well, well, looks like the snake is taking the bait," he muttered to himself.
He navigated through the message with a quick swipe, reading Edward's words with intrigue.
"Reid, have some potentially interesting developments on our shared endeavor. Let's discuss over drinks. — E.T"
It was classic Edward Tay, a man with the social subtlety of a sledgehammer and the ethical restraint of a fox in a henhouse. Yet, the guy had the one thing that Reid couldn't ignore: information. Tantalizing, juicy, possibly incriminating information.
He quickly typed out a response, infusing it with his signature blend of politeness and snark. "A rendezvous over drinks? You're spoiling me. See you there. — Reid."
Jill meowed, as if judging his reckless enthusiasm. Reid looked at her, shrugging slightly. "Oh, don't give me that look. Daddy's got to do some adulting, okay?"
He pushed aside his academic paper, leaving it open-faced on the coffee table—a small nod to his intentions to return—before walking over to his wardrobe. Choosing an outfit was part puzzle, part performance art for Reid. This time, he settled for something casual yet smart: a tailored shirt with a quirky pattern of tiny skulls, and dark jeans that were fashionable without screaming 'trying too hard.' He glanced at himself in the mirror, satisfied.
Taking his smartphone off the charger, he checked it for any additional work messages or updates. Unlike the communicator, which served the government's data pipeline, the phone was his own personalized tech hub. A trusted confidante, storing secrets and notes and observations that could piece together the psyches of the very people he analyzed for a living.
He pocketed the phone and grabbed his leather jacket. He paused at the doorway, looking back at Jill, who had resumed her diligent exploration of his abandoned academic paper. "Hold down the fort, will you?"
Jill flicked her tail dismissively. Reid chuckled. "Fair enough."
Jill then meowed and Reid shrugged, "Averyl had him kidnapped." A wide-eyes stare from the cat made him chuckle, "they're at some business meeting… if you miss him, I'll have him over."
If Jill could speak, it would have 'tsk-ed'. Alas, the cat could not and settled for flicking her tail and jumping onto the countertop.
As he stepped out into the rain-drenched evening, Reid's thoughts were as scattered as the droplets that splashed against the pavement. Edward Tay was a billionaire with murky morals. Reid knew he had to tread carefully.
Archer, Reid's ice-cold counterpart, flashed into his thoughts. He knew Archer would be less than thrilled about this meet-up, but then again, Archer had a way of speaking without words, expressing volumes with just a look. It was a communication style that Reid often found amusing and frustrating in equal measure. Still, he could almost hear Archer's voice in his mind, brief and to the point: "Be careful."
"Always am," Reid whispered to himself as he hailed a cab. But deep inside, he knew that 'careful' was a relative term, especially when you were playing a high-stakes game against a billionaire whose motivations were as unclear as his own reflection in the misty car window.
The cab pulled away, and Reid took one last look at his apartment building receding in the distance, its windows glowing like so many eyes watching him journey into the unknown. And as he geared up for yet another round in the never-ending mind games that colored his world, Reid couldn't help but feel a certain dark thrill.
He had always been good at puzzles. And Edward Tay was shaping up to be a complex one, a maze of contradictions and secrets. Reid adjusted the cuff of his shirt, mentally preparing for the evening's duel.
"Let the games begin," he thought, cracking his knuckles.
Reid stood outside 'Trattoria Amore,' a bustling, eclectic little Italian joint snuggled between a high-end jewelry store and a comic book shop. With its neon sign flickering erratically in the early evening gloom, the restaurant offered the perfect cloak of noise and normalcy for the conversation he was about to have. He'd deliberately walked past 'The Scholar's Den,' the neighborhood bookstore, to grab a copy of the latest book by Penelope. Five chapters in, and the words were gnawing at him like a persistent itch. The style, the tone—it was eerily familiar, and that alone was enough to pour a cold bucket of dread into his already racing mind.
Before entering the restaurant, Reid leaned against the brick wall and took a moment to mentally prepare. This was Edward Tay they were talking about, a man with the transparency of mud mixed with oil. One wrong move, one misspoken word, and he could find himself stuck in a quagmire of Edward's making.
Finally, armed with his new book and a self-assured smirk, Reid pushed open the restaurant's door, greeted by a tidal wave of voices and laughter. The place was teeming with college students excitedly dissecting everything from quantum mechanics to the latest celebrity scandal. It was like a bubbling cauldron of distraction, and Reid loved it.
How Reid missed that life.
Across the room, he spotted Edward, hunched over his cup of coffee, looking every bit as shifty as a raccoon caught rummaging through garbage. The billionaire's eyes darted up, and for a split second, he looked relieved. Reid chuckled internally. "Got you nervous there, Edward?"
Edward stood as Reid approached, his attempt at casual charm marred by an undercurrent of nervous energy. "Ah, Reid! Good to see you, man! You look well."
"Do I? Must be the lighting," Reid said, sliding into the seat across from Edward. He casually placed the Penelope book next to his own cup of untouched coffee.
Edward's eyes narrowed briefly at the sight of the book before he masked it with a chuckle. "Ah, you took my suggestion, I see."
"Life's too short not to take book recommendations from billionaires," Reid said, opening the menu as if deciding between penne and potential lies was an everyday struggle.
"How do you find the book?" Edward asked, sipping his coffee and avoiding eye contact. He seemed nervous and Reid could sense Edward was trying to worm information out of himself.
Reid closed the menu and looked Edward square in the eye. "You could say I'm exploring new narratives."
Edward shifted in his seat, his eyes flitting around the room before settling back on Reid. "New narratives?"
Reid chuckled, opening the Penelope book and flipping through its pages. "Come now, Edward, when someone writes a book, it is always new… ain't it?"
"Of course…" Edward replies warily.
"But it does seem that someone hasn't been writing for a long time."
Edward's eyes narrowed and leaned in, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "You're a smart man, Reid. Very perceptive. I could use someone like you in my operations."
"A tempting offer," Reid mused, "but as they say, you should never mix business with pleasure—or in this case, business with whatever it is we're doing."
Edward chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, ever the joker, aren't you?"
"Someone's gotta be, right?" Reid took a sip of his coffee, eyes not leaving Edward. "By the way, how do you find Penelope?"
Edward paused, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you ask?"
Reid shrugged, putting on his most nonchalant face. "Just curious, considering you're such a big fan of her work."
Edward relaxed, his shoulders dropping noticeably. "Ah, her husband and I are old friends. We don't necessarily know each other."
"Old friends, you say?" Reid let his eyes flicker momentarily to the book on the table before meeting Edward's gaze again. "That's sweet. It's always nice to help a friend's spouse find her voice."
"Yes, well, connections are everything, aren't they?"
"They can be," Reid said. He tapped the cover of Penelope's book, his eyes narrowed but his voice light. "Ever feel like you know someone just by reading their work? As if the words on the page let you peer straight into their soul?"
Edward's face twitched, a barely perceptible shift in expression. "Sometimes. Why?"
Reid shrugged, closing the book and rising to his feet. "Oh, just a thought. Maybe you're not the only one in this room who's perceptive, Eddie."
In a dimly lit Italian restaurant, Reid reclined in his chair, his fingers dancing around the rim of a half-empty glass of bourbon.
Edward sat opposite, the pale light casting harsh shadows across his face. He had chosen the venue, but it was Reid who was setting the pace of their conversation, steering it like a master choreographer.
"So, Edward," Reid said, locking eyes with Edward. "I'm a few chapters into Penelope's book, and it's quite the page-turner. But, you know, something struck me. Her style—just so different from her earlier stuff."
Edward shifted, the ice in his scotch swirling like restless energy. "People evolve, Reid. Perhaps Penelope has simply found a new voice."
"A new voice, you say?" Reid tilted his head, his lips curling into a smirk. "A voice that's mysteriously indistinguishable from another author's?"
Edward's eyes flickered. "Who?"
"You remember, Michelle Lim, the author I told you about last time we chatted. Come on, don't tell me you've forgotten already?"
Edward cleared his throat, clearly rattled. "I meet a lot of people, Reid. Refresh my memory?"
"Mmm, fair enough." Reid swirled his bourbon, savoring the aroma before taking another sip. "But let's set aside the literary conundrum for now. How's your publishing company doing?"
A visible wave of relief washed over Edward. "Ah, well, business is booming. We've got a whole slate of new releases lined up. Exciting times, indeed."
"New releases, you say?" Reid leaned in, locking onto Edward's eyes like a predator on its prey. "Interesting, because, you see, I've got a friend who works at your publishing house."
Edward's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh? Who might that be?"
Reid smiled, savoring the moment. "Michelle Lim. You remember her now?"
The color drained from Edward's face faster than bourbon from Reid's glass. "I can't say that I do."
"Oh, what a shame. Because Michelle mentioned that she's been dating someone quite seriously. Wedding bells and all that jazz. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Edward visibly stiffened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his glass. "I think Michelle must be mistaken. I don't know her."
Reid's grin widened into a knowing, almost predatory smile. "You don't know her? Really? But you seem to know so much about who's dating whom and who's writing what."
Edward looked away, unable to meet Reid's gaze. "I told you, I don't know her."
"But you do know Penelope," Reid pushed, eyes glinting. "And Penelope's writing changes, and Michelle Lim—a woman you don't know but works at your publishing house—has a boyfriend whom she's about to marry, and you're certain it's not you."
Edward's hand trembled as he set his glass on the table. "I don't have to sit here and listen to this."
Reid chuckled, relishing the unraveling of the man in front of him. "No, you don't. But here's the thing, Eddie." Reid made sure to emphasize the name, "I may not know exactly what game you're playing, but I know you're not playing it straight."
Edward stood abruptly, "This conversation is over."
"Not really," Reid replied, leaning back into his chair. "But conversations have a funny way of picking up where they left off, especially conversations like ours."
Edward shot him a final, icy glare before sitting right back down.
With a crackling tension in the air, Edward sat back down, his eyes darting momentarily to the closed door as though considering his options. He glanced back at Reid and sighed, the air thick with unsaid truths and blurry boundaries.
"You're Michelle's mysterious boyfriend, aren't you?" Reid leaned back into his chair, eyes twinkling like a cat that just cornered its prey.
"What evidence do you have?" Edward's voice was a low hiss.
"Ah, evidence. A funny thing that," Reid began, pulling out his phone and scrolling through a few screenshots. "You see, a few days ago, I happened to catch up with Linda and Olwen. They had quite the stories to tell."
Edward's face flushed a shade somewhere between indignation and humiliation. "You had no right to infiltrate my company."
Reid chuckled, placing the phone back in his pocket. "You might want to up your security, Ed. Or maybe just treat your employees a little better so they don't spill your secrets."
Edward scowled but didn't refute the allegations. It was evident the jig was up.
"I did date Michelle," Edward finally conceded, the words carrying a palpable weight. "I was nervous when I found out she worked for my company. I didn't want her to tell anyone, but I also wanted to see her. So I often invited her to my office.
"Then Olwen released those photos, Michelle got upset, and well—I had no choice. It was all good until we had another argument and… Olwen should have told you."
Reid listened intently, picking apart Edward's words in real-time, his expertise in psychology and criminal profiling dissecting every twitch of Edward's face and shift in his tone.
"So, you two had a fallout, huh? Do tell, what was the straw that broke the camel's back?"
Edward clenched his fists, visibly restraining himself. "It's not your place to ask."
"Oh, but it is. You see, my friend Carson already filled me in on some of the juicy details. I'm just trying to understand why one fight would break up a relationship that, according to you, was built on—what?—mutual interests?"
"It was one argument!" Edward snapped, betraying a level of emotion he hadn't shown all evening.
"One argument? Just one?" Reid stared at him, a slow smile stretching across his face. "You see, that's where your story falls apart. Relationships, especially ones as intense as you make it out to be, don't crumble over a single disagreement."
Edward glared, his eyes alight with a flicker of panic. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying, I'm deducing," Reid said calmly. "Your relationship with Michelle had a lot more going on. What was the argument really about, Edward? Did Michelle find out something she wasn't supposed to?"
"That's none of your business," Edward sneered.
Reid leaned forward, locking eyes with Edward. "When someone ends up dead, it becomes everyone's business, especially when the remaining half of the equation is as shady as you."
Edward pushed his chair back, rising to his feet, his eyes a mix of defiance and evasion. "This conversation is over."
Reid watched him, his gaze unwavering. "Michelle's gone, Edward. Secrets have a way of unearthing themselves."
Edward paused, his hand clutching the back of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something, to spill whatever truth still clung to the walls of his conscience.
Then Edward pulled out his wallet to drop a bill on the table.
"Are you leaving so soon?"
Edward did not reply and simply stormed out of the restaurant.
Reid glanced at his government-issued communicator watch, half-expecting to see a message from Archer. But there was nothing, just the quiet pulse of time marking the seconds. Archer had a way of saying everything while saying nothing at all, a skill Reid envied at times like these.
Reid finished off his bourbon, the burning liquid tracing a warm path down his throat. Edward Tay, Penelope Quirke, Michelle Lim— there was the mysterious lady that Reid needed to hunt down.
As he stood up to leave, his communicator vibrated with a new message. This time, it was from Archer. Just a single word: "Careful."
Reid chuckled softly, locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket. "Careful," he mused to himself.
He left a generous tip and moved toward the exit. The night was young, and the game was far from over. Reid had to find the Wolf that Michelle had wrote in her book. That would be the last piece to the puzzle he was solving.
He had an idea how she would fall nicely into the picture but he'd rather find the facts right from her.
"Game on," he whispered, as he stepped into the labyrinth that was the night, a smile unfurling on his lips. One that promised, for better or worse, that the next move in this perilous game would be his.
***
The snake covered himself in a dolphin's skin and approached the jellyfish. The jellyfish, ecstatic that there was an animal she was familiar with, quickly warmed up to her new friend. However, the jellyfish realised that the 'dolphin' was strange, for it could not survive in the water. When the jellyfish noticed that the 'dolphin' had fangs for teeth, it had screamed and went around telling all other animals.
But the jellyfish had no voice and when it flailed in panic, the others thought it was a beautiful dance. The snake then whispered to the jellyfish that it just wanted to be its friend…