The early morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the bustling city, casting long shadows on the damp pavement. The man stepped out of his modest apartment, straightening his tie, the cool air brushing against his face. He was tall, with sharp features softened only by the thick mustache that nearly covered his mouth. His full head of dark hair, neatly combed, gave him an air of calculated precision. Behind wire-rimmed glasses, his eyes were sharp, always observing, always searching.
He moved with purpose, each step measured, a man accustomed to chasing down truths that others overlooked.
The large screen outside a nearby café caught his attention. The news anchor's voice was calm, but the words hung in the air with quiet urgency: "Yet another student reported missing, authorities baffled by the lack of evidence…" The image on the screen flickered, showing a somber-faced young man, last seen leaving a library late at night.
The agent paused, watching the report intently, fingers twitching slightly. A spark of recognition flared in his mind. This wasn't the first time. Years ago, there had been other disappearances, just as sudden, just as untraceable.
He didn't linger. Instead, he moved swiftly down the street toward his destination.
The FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. loomed ahead, a sleek building of glass and steel, reflecting the bright morning sky. Inside, the corridors buzzed with activity—agents and analysts moving with urgency, the hum of phones and quiet conversations filling the air.
He walked with steady confidence through the entrance, acknowledging the familiar faces.
"Good morning, Osborn!" A colleague called out as he passed.
He nodded, offering a faint smile. "Good morning, Ethan," he replied smoothly, the pleasantry automatic but genuine enough.
He reached his office, a tidy, functional space with a desk piled with neatly stacked files and a lone computer. Sitting down, he logged in, his fingers moving deftly over the keyboard as he began pulling up records. Missing persons cases, both recent and archived, flashed across the screen.
His brow furrowed as he worked. There it was—an eerie pattern stretching back years. Students vanished without a trace, the investigations cold, the files incomplete. The same empty spaces, the same lack of evidence. He clicked through reports until he landed on one particular name: Orion, a student at Princeton University.
Leaning back in his chair, Osborn considered the trail. Princeton wasn't far. If the past was any indication, it was time to visit the campus and search for clues where the trail had gone cold before.
Osborn arrived at Princeton University by mid-morning, its historic buildings and sprawling campus serving as a quiet backdrop to his search. He was greeted by the headmaster, Mr. Fledger, a tall man with an air of weary authority. After a brief handshake, Osborn asked to speak with him privately.
"I've been reviewing a recent case involving a missing student, Orion," Osborn began, pulling out a file. "I need access to his records and any information you have regarding his disappearance."
Mr. Fledger's face tightened at the mention of Orion's name. "Orion was a quiet student. No family to speak of, and he worked part-time to cover his expenses. He was last seen leaving the university in the late afternoon, heading home."
Osborn noted the details, mentally piecing together what little information he had. "Did anything unusual happen before he went missing?"
"Nothing that stands out," Mr. Fledger replied, a hint of concern in his voice. "But I suppose the most disturbing part was that he never made it home."
Osborn nodded. "I need to see the footage from the campus cameras. The time of day I'm looking at is around 4 PM, late spring—warm weather, students often leaving to enjoy the heat."
Fledger hesitated but eventually agreed. "I'll have the footage sent to your email."
Later, Osborn stood in front of Orion's apartment, a modest one-bedroom located just outside the university. His eyes scanned the area before he walked up the stairs and unlocked the door with the key Fledger had provided.
Inside, the apartment felt sterile, almost as if it had been emptied on purpose. Papers were scattered across the floor, and books were thrown haphazardly across the room. It was clear that someone had been looking for something.
Orion had been alone—no roommates, no family. The place was filled with evidence of a simple life—clean dishes, a single bed, and a small desk with a few items of interest: a bakery schedule, an old photograph. His parents were dead, and he survived by working part-time at a bakery.
But now, the place was torn apart.
Osborn stood still for a moment, piecing it all together. Orion had been followed. The search, the signs of someone rifling through his personal belongings—it all pointed to one conclusion: Orion had been tracked from his apartment to the university.
He left the apartment, frustration mounting as he returned to Princeton. Osborn needed more—he needed the cameras. He couldn't let this slip through his fingers.
Back at the university, Osborn met Mr. Fledger again, this time in front of the camera system. The footage from the cameras had been located, and Osborn watched closely as the timestamp confirmed what he suspected: 4:15 PM, Orion was seen leaving the campus, heading towards the road.
Osborn scrolled through the footage until something caught his eye—a minivan, parked at the edge of campus. The same vehicle appeared multiple times throughout the footage. Men were seen coming and going intermittently. Then, in one chilling frame, Orion approached the vehicle, only to be dragged inside by two men.
Osborn zoomed in, and his stomach churned as he saw one of the men clearly. He was wearing a Noh mask—a traditional Japanese mask, eerily expressionless, a stark contrast to the violence unfolding.
A surge of adrenaline shot through Osborn. This was it. He finally had a lead.
With the footage fresh in his mind, Osborn rushed back to his office, determined to follow the new trail. He had a name to pursue—and a masked man to track down. He had a feeling this was just the beginning.