I needed to clear my head. I dashed through alleys and reached the Branstone in a couple of minutes. My mind raced with thoughts of Clara, Lafayette, and the weight of the responsibilities that had suddenly fallen on my shoulders. I rummaged through the depths of my closet and pulled free my locked portmanteau. From within, I retrieved my tactical gear courtesy of Duke. The gear was snug, providing a sense of security and preparedness.
I padded up, feeling the familiar weight of the armor settling into place. With a deep breath, I leaped off my balcony onto the nearest roof, my body moving with a fluidity that came from countless nights of practice and training.
The city's night air was cool against my face as I sprinted across rooftops, my mind gradually emptying of its earlier turmoil. The rhythmic thud of my boots against the concrete, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional siren formed a symphony that both soothed and heightened my senses.
After an hour of patrolling, my vigilance paid off. Near the airport, I spotted a group of men clad in balaclavas unloading duffel bags from an unmarked van. Their movements were hurried, their eyes darting around nervously. The air was thick with the tension of illicit activity.
I crouched low on the rooftop, observing them. The men moved with the precision of those who had done this before—likely professionals. I counted five of them, each carrying a duffel bag and moving quickly toward a nearby warehouse.
Dropping silently to the ground, I crept closer, using the shadows as cover. Their conversation, muffled and terse, suggested they were on a tight schedule. One of the men, presumably the leader, barked orders, his voice carrying an edge of urgency.
"Move faster! We've got a narrow window before the next patrol."
I edged closer, trying to discern the contents of the bags. They looked heavy, likely filled with something valuable—or dangerous. I needed to act before they could disappear into the warehouse.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the shadows. "Evening, gentlemen. Going somewhere?"
The men spun around, surprise and alarm flashing in their eyes. The leader, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, quickly recovered and signaled to the others.
"Get him!" he shouted.
The first man lunged at me, but I sidestepped his attack, landing a swift punch to his gut that doubled him over. Another came at me with a knife, slashing wildly. I caught his wrist, twisting it until he dropped the blade with a pained cry.
A third man tried to tackle me from behind, but I spun around, using his momentum to throw him to the ground. The leader barked more orders, trying to rally his men, but they were clearly outmatched.
"Last chance to walk away," I said, my voice calm but firm.
"Like hell!" the leader snarled, pulling out a gun.
Before he could aim, I closed the distance between us, knocking the weapon from his hand with a swift kick. He staggered back, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and rage.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, grabbing him by the collar.
"Go to hell!" he spat, struggling against my grip.
A sudden noise from behind made me glance back. The remaining men were trying to make a run for it, dragging the duffel bags with them. I had to decide quickly—pursue the runners or get more information from the leader.
"Stay here," I growled, shoving the leader against the wall.
I dashed after the fleeing men, my footsteps echoing in the quiet night. They reached the warehouse and started to barricade the door, but I was on them before they could fully close it. I kicked the door open, sending them sprawling back.
Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit, crates and machinery casting long shadows. The men scrambled to their feet, desperation clear in their eyes. They reached into their duffel bags, pulling out various weapons—guns, knives, and even a crowbar.
"Let's make this easy," I said, stepping inside. "Drop the bags and walk away."
"Not a chance!" one of them shouted, raising his gun.
The fight resumed, a chaotic dance of punches, kicks, and weapon strikes. I moved through them with practiced efficiency, disarming and disabling each one. The last man standing tried to swing the crowbar at my head, but I ducked under the blow and landed a punch that sent him crashing into a stack of crates.
Panting slightly, I surveyed the scene. The men were all incapacitated, the duffel bags abandoned on the floor. I knelt down and unzipped one of the bags, my suspicions confirmed—cash, weapons, and what looked like high-grade explosives.
"Who the hell are you guys?" I muttered to myself.
A noise behind me made me turn. The leader had managed to slip away during the fight, but he hadn't gotten far. He stumbled back into the warehouse, clutching his side.
"You… you don't know what you're messing with," he gasped.
"Please, enlighten me," I said, advancing on him.
Before he could respond, headlights flooded the warehouse. A sleek car pulled up, and from it emerged a familiar figure in a purple stage magician's outfit with neon green accents. An itch sprouted at the base of my skull.
"Looks like you opened the show without me, my dear Heliox," Spectacle said with a flourish. Hocus and Pocus floated above his shoulders, their eyes glinting in the light. "Nevertheless, Spectacle is here! Prepare to be amazed!"
"How'd you know?" I half-jokingly asked.
He tapped the tip of his wand against his temple, "The Mentalist knows all!"
"Ah, well, now I feel slightly violated," I replied, a frown tugging at my lips.
Spectacle surveyed the scene, then turned to the leader. "Now, shall we see what secrets you're hiding?"
The leader glared at us but remained silent. Spectacle's eyes glowed, and the leader's expression shifted from defiance to terror as the mentalist probed his mind.
"Interesting," Spectacle murmured. "Looks like the script calls for something much grander than a residential heist."
"Care to share with the class?" I asked.
Spectacle nodded. "These guys are part of some kind of union. They have been planning something big, and these weapons and explosives are just the first trick of the night."
The leader, now a trembling mess, muttered something under his breath.
"What was that?" I asked, leaning in.
"You'll never find us all," he whispered.
Spectacle and I exchanged a glance, the weight of his words sinking in.
"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," Spectacle said, straightening up.
I nodded, adrenaline surging anew. "Let's find out who's behind this and stop whatever they've started."