Elk sighs in distress as he walks out of the Principal's office. He closes the door behind and stiffly tramps along the hush corridor, with vacant classrooms facing accross on each walls.
He had barely fixed concerns with the kid named Archer's parents.
He visited him at the hospital, where a crying mother and a furious father drained his energy.
Archer's condition had stabilized, but who was he ribbing at the broken nose, shattered teeth, stitches and scars engraved on his face. Archer had lost a lot of blood—and the boy had yet to gain consciousness.
And the trouble–maker is missing.
His Agents has been instructed to look for Rhean, for even if he's not his own, he's deeply grown to care for the child.
Out of the building, he looks around the school compound of 'Sunflower' junior school: the janitor is sweeping, gathering a hill of the dried, fallen leaves.
Up at the darkened sky, black clouds looms over. A gust of sharp wind, flapping away the leaves and dust on the surface.
Sulks the janitor, grumbling and hastily brooming the dirt once again. The weather this days of March has been a thrill of wind and chill. Gales, hailstones ramming the earth.
It's going to rain soon, and the mud had only begun to dry because of the nearness of the former.
At the open school parking loth with the press of a button of the car key, beeps the red Jeep unlocked, the headlights flickering.
Mounted on the driver's seat, bearing a troubled heart he starts the car; he's only praying for the little violent brat to be safe and be found.
– – –
Elk is in his cabin, strictly discussing work with his assistant and Agent Knight—who sat in a lineal posture accross the table.
A knock on the door drifts attention from the topic, pausing the conference.
"Come in." Elk voices out, follows the door being opened, and the appearance of a tall figure—with his head dipped down.
He raises the siren eyes to find three pair of gazes riveted to him.
"Welcome back Czar." Elk greets, revealing a half—curled lined smile. He had been gone for a job for two weeks, demanding a voyage to a foreign country.
"Good to see you Czar." The assistant says as he walks in. He slides off the chair and stands beside it to make him a room. "Have a seat.''
Rhett tonelessly nods at him.
Knight scoffs to himself, refusing to irk his ego—to align with the expectations that inclines him to address a senior.
Rhett places a black pendrive on the desk.
"It's all in here?" Elk inquires, reaching for the drive.
"Yes." Rhett replies. "An Agent from Sovran too was after Professor Zain."
Sovran Intelligence was an Agency from a rivalized country. It has forever been a battle between the two. And will take a hassle of as long to ever make peace.
He lowers to the seat. "Got to him before them." Flat and emotionless he declares.
"Very well. You should take some time off before the next mission." Elk smiles at the Agent leaned back on the chair—and pulling a face at his odd guise.
A stern face, reddish veins dimming the sclera. The same grim sullen stare of the sleep deprived eyes almost made Rhett look formidable; even to him.
"Anything on her?" Rhett inquires, a sudden cramp of a tight knot in his chest.
Elk hesitates to respond for a moment.
He careens his body towards the desk, fastening his hands smooth on the surface. "Listen Czar. I've come to a conclusion—centering no other intentions than your well being. Don't get me wrong."
Rhett arches a brow, addled at his sudden confession. "Cut to the chase."
Elk breathes in deep through his nose, back muscles tensed at his dour demeanour. "Two months ago, I decided to shut your wife's case."
"What did you say?" Rhett's voice is sharp, eerily calm.
The room chilled suddenly, the three of them felt a cold sting rush down the spine.
Elk steers his hands back to him, his back straightened.
"It's for your own good. You've got to move on. Who knows? We've been searching for a corse all this time—" Elk's words are cut short when Rhett lunges at him alarmingly.
It makes Knight almost slant off from his seat, gripping the chair the elbows raised alert for action.
"Czar, calm down." The assistant heeds wired, panic evident in his tautened posture.
Elk is elevated further up from the chair—brought near to his face, his collar crushed in Rhett's hardened fists.
"I will kill you." He snarls through gritted teeth, blue veins roping his neck.
"Look, there's nothing I could've done. The Agency have tried everything—" "All this time, like a fucking dog I've sprinted around for your measly inquisitions, and now you come up with this shit?" Rhett's pained gaze, the spasm of betrayal is clear in the low guttural sound the outburst rumble in his throat.
"Czar," the assistant is silenced by Elk's raised hand.
Elk catches Rhett's dead glare, to burn and skin him alive. "We can logically differ even without violence. Get your hands off me!" He scraps himself up, staring back at him with the same intensity.
Rhett clenches his jaw, his left eye twitching, the fire building in his chest to erupt. Before he does something, the consequences reflecting guilt on him, he harshly rams Elk on the leather rocker, the armchair skittering—creating a squeaking noise.
Elk's sigh shaky, in a untouched manner he fixes his crumpled collar.
"Why?" Rhett asks, his tone mournful, abscend of vigor.
His withered frame, slouched shoulder and dipped chin—lowered eyes has Elk regret for a split second, before he regains the circumstances that pushed him to do, what he had to.
"We did what we could. Yet not a clue from a single corner in this world." He pauses, irritated and coarse. "No movement at all. Raka has vanished into Hell with her."
"Tell me," Elk allows the clarification in a milder tone.
"How do we believe if she can be recovered back? If she's even—" Elk trails off, breaking his words with a shake of his head.
"Not reasonable enough to quit! Your attempts were shallow and tardy."
Elk displeased looks at him drily. "You tell me, what in the world could possibly be achieved? We're just girded around—knocked against a dead end. Enough resources have been wasted, there's less hours, less Agents—and increased work." He zips up, he feels this time, he had versed in extreme.
The shrunken appearance of his assistant exposed the realisation to him.
"Maybe because you and your good–for–nothing Agency is but a scheming, blood sucking regime." Rhett taunts him, causing Elk's face to balloon up scarlet in vexation.
"If you're so good, do it yourself!" Elk barks.
"Better." Rhett taunts, turning to leave.
"One more thing," Elk interrupts. "Your son caused trouble at school. He's been missing for two days."
Rhett scowls. "And you're telling me now?"
Elk doesn't bother and clears his throat. "A team has been—"
"Your trashy team couldn't even find a damn kid?" Rhett bashes, he couldn't even utter anymore with the rage overwhelming to collapse his sanity.
Striding out, he roughly slams the door shut behind him.
The people left in the room shriveling at his brutality.
"I messed up." Elk grunts.
"You did." The assistant asserts.
"Shut up. So where were we?" Elk blithely brushes him off.
Knight just rolls his eyes at his workaholic self.