The setting sun cast long shadows through the abandoned research facility's broken windows, painting the walls in shades of amber and rust. Warrick Gamaliel wiped sweat from his forehead as he finished calibrating the building's aging ventilation system. Six hours of work, and they were finally seeing results.
"Third floor ventilation is back online," he reported into his earpiece, double-checking the maintenance panel's readings. "How's it looking on your end, Carlo?"
"Air flow patterns are normalizing," came the response, Carlo's cultured accent incongruous with their decrepit surroundings. "Though there's an odd resonance from the east wing. Might want to check those filters before we wrap up. The dust composition suggests they haven't been changed in at least eight months."
Warrick smiled slightly. Most people wouldn't think a blind man could make such precise environmental assessments, but most people didn't understand what Tags were truly capable of. Carlo's enhanced senses had only grown more acute since losing his sight, making him an invaluable partner for a repairman working in the fallen districts.
The abandoned research facility's hallways were thick with shadows, the emergency lighting running on minimal power. This section of the Former Gamaliel District was officially condemned, but people still lived here, making do in the ruins of what had once been Krynosia's proudest scientific center. They were the ones who needed repair work the most, even if they could barely afford it.
"Movement at the entrance," Carlo's voice came through again, all business now. "Single person, female, approximately 40 years old based on gait pattern. Heart rate elevated, breathing irregular – suggests distress. She's been watching us work for the past twenty minutes."
Warrick paused in packing his tools. "Security patrol schedule?"
"Jerusalem Family checkpoint two blocks south does their rounds every three hours. Next patrol due in forty-five minutes. No Bambino presence detected in the sector today, though their drones made three passes this morning."
Making his way down to the entrance, Warrick found exactly what Carlo had described. The woman's clothes were worn but carefully maintained, her face bearing the sharp angles of someone who'd missed too many meals. But it was her eyes that caught his attention – they held the desperate look he'd seen too often in the fallen districts.
"Are you the Repairman?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted to the shadows where Carlo materialized, his butler's attire pristine despite the day's work. The injection mark on his neck – the telltale sign of a Tag – made her tense visibly.
"That's what they call me," Warrick confirmed, keeping his voice gentle. "We're just finishing up here. The building's air filtration should work properly now, make it a bit more livable for the families staying here."
"I need help." She glanced around nervously. "My daughter, Sara… she's missing. Three days now. The Family authorities…" she trailed off helplessly.
"Won't help in the fallen districts," Warrick finished. "Have you tried the Abraham Guild? They have resources for situations like this."
"Their fees…" She pulled out a small pouch, hands shaking. "This is all I have. I know it's not much, but please… she's only twelve."
Warrick felt Carlo tense beside him. His partner's reservations were clear – missing persons cases were dangerous, especially in the fallen districts. They had a way of attracting unwanted attention from the Families. Their repair business provided perfect cover for gathering intelligence, but actively investigating disappearances was different.
"The last time anyone saw her?" Warrick asked, already knowing he'd take the case.
"Near the border of the Former Gahad District, three days ago. She was running an errand for me…" The woman's voice cracked. "I should never have sent her that way, but we needed the cheaper medicine they sell there. The sanctioned pharmacies charge too much, and her little brother's been sick…"
Carlo's clouded eyes narrowed slightly. "The Gahad border has been particularly active lately. Unusual patterns in the usual smuggling routes. The Jerusalem Family doubled their patrol frequency last week, though they claim it's routine adjustment."
Warrick took the pouch of credits – barely enough for a standard repair job, let alone an investigation. "We'll look into it. But I need you to tell me everything you remember about that day. And I mean everything – times, locations, what she was wearing, who else was around."
As the woman spoke, Carlo tilted his head in that peculiar way that meant he was focusing his enhanced senses. "Warrick," he interrupted softly, "there's something else. The vibrations in her voice, the specific pattern of stress… she's hiding something."
The woman's shoulders slumped. "I… I've been asking around. Sara isn't the first. There are whispers… other children have gone missing too. All from the fallen districts, all within the last month. Nobody official will listen, and the Guild…" She trailed off helplessly once again.
"How many others?" Warrick pressed gently.
"Five that I know of. Maybe more. People don't always report missing children here – too afraid of drawing attention from the Families. But these disappearances… they're different. Organized. The children who vanished, they all visited the free clinic near the Gahad border first. For routine checkups, they said."
Warrick and Carlo exchanged a look that spoke volumes. A missing child was one thing. Multiple disappearances suggested something far more sinister – the kind of operation that could only exist with official protection or willful ignorance.
"We'll find her," Warrick promised, knowing the words might be a mistake even as he said them. "But you need to be careful. Don't tell anyone else you've hired us. If someone asks, you're still looking on your own."
Carlo's slight sigh told him his partner was already calculating the risks, planning contingencies. But they both knew there was no turning back now. In the fallen districts, sometimes the simplest repair jobs revealed the deepest breaks in the system.
"What's your name?" Warrick asked.
"Maria. Maria Torres."
"Alright, Maria. Go home. Keep your normal routine. We'll contact you through the repair shop's usual channels if we find anything." He paused. "And Maria? If anyone official starts asking questions about Sara, even if they say they're trying to help…"
"I understand," she said quietly. "Thank you."
As Maria left, Carlo spoke quietly. "The Former Gahad District is beyond our usual territory. The old Tag control facilities there…" He trailed off meaningfully.
"I know," Warrick cut him off. The ruins of the Gahad family's Tag research centers held too many dark memories for both of them. "But if children are disappearing, somebody's using those ruins for something. And whatever it is, it's not good."
"We'll need to adjust our repair schedule," Carlo noted. "The Jerusalem Family keeps records of registered maintenance workers in each sector. Too many deviations from our usual patterns will draw attention."
"Already thinking about it. We've got that ventilation job in the north sector tomorrow morning, we'll continue with that job. But the afternoon work can wait. That gives us a few hours to scout the Gahad border area."
Above them, the repaired ventilation system hummed steadily, pushing stale air through the abandoned building. As Warrick gathered his tools, "One more thing," Carlo added as they prepared to leave. "That patrol I mentioned? They've changed their route. They're coming through early tonight."
Warrick nodded, shouldering his tool bag. "Then let's not be here when they arrive."