Chapter #1:
Three hundred men stood in anticipation, waiting for her arrival. Freya stepped onto the ground crouching, her gun in hand. As she gazed at the scene, Freya handed a cloak to Sid, her loyal second-in-command, using sign language to order him to conceal himself within the crowd. Despite the look of reluctance, Sid followed her instructions without protest, one of the qualities she admired the most about him.
Crouched behind a column amidst the celebration of the Mardi Gras festival, New Orleans, Freya spotted around 251 members of the BST scattered among the crowd. Yet, something felt off. Where are the other members? she wondered, her senses on high alert.
"Madam Freya! We've got company!" a voice crackled through her earphone. Gunfire erupted in the background; the explosive sound was unmistakable.
"Goddam-" Freya cursed under her breath as an explosion tore through the middle of the square. Families screamed in panic; the festival was evolving into pure chaos. Racing toward the scene, Freya quickly scanned the area, but the BST members had vanished without a trace.
"My, my, what a delightful surprise! You've saved us the trouble of finding you. How considerate," a man's voice called out, smooth and malicious, from within the flames. His smile was so disarmingly deceitful that Freya faltered for a moment.
"D-Damian?" she stammered; her voice shaky with disbelief. Slowly stepping back, she felt the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed against her spine. Her eyes widened as she turned to find herself surrounded by almost all three hundred members of the enemy.
"Oh dear, Freya. Did you truly think I would come unprepared?" Damian's tone was mocking, as if her fear amused him.
"Lord Damian, w-why are you here?" Freya managed to choke out, her mind racing.
"Goodness, Freya Andeno. Have you not yet realized?" His voice was filled with disdain.
Taking another step backward, Freya was shoved forward by one of Damian's men. She stumbled but quickly stood back up, though her legs trembled. Sweat trickled down her neck, her arms felt weak, and her head swirled with confusion. Could this truly be Lord Damian, the man behind the scenes? The mastermind of the war that ravaged our nations? The one responsible for selling classified Chinese intelligence to America, igniting a conflict that promised nothing but destruction?
Before she could fully process the horror of the situation, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Madam Freya, are you alright?"
Freya jolted upright in her bed, her breath heavy, her palms slick with sweat. She quickly scanned the dark room, momentarily disoriented.
"Madam Freya?" The voice was Sid, who stood next to her, his expression heavy with concern.
"Oh, Sid..." Freya exhaled slowly, placing her feet on the ground. "What brings you here?"
Sid hesitated, his eyes searching her face. "Madam Freya, I hope you're well," he said softly as he stepped closer, gently placing a hand on her forehead.
"You are running a fever," he observed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing the sweat from her brow and neck.
Freya shook her head. "Thank you, Sid, but I am alright," she said, her voice steady as she took the handkerchief and slipped it back into his pocket.
"Is something the matter?" she asked,
"Yes, Madam. Scheld has called a meeting," Sid replied, stepping back and releasing her shoulder. "I just came to inform you."
"I will be waiting for you outside," he added quickly, retreating toward the door with an awkward tilt of his head, then stepping out into the garden to give her space.
Freya sat for a moment; her mind still tangled in the remnants of that awfully disturbing dream. A reflection of her worries that had weighed heavily on her in these fragile times. But even as she dressed, a sense of unease crept over her. Something big was coming, she could feel it. As she met Sid outside, it was clear that he sensed it too.
The drive to the Harold Washington Library was unnervingly silent. Freya could not bear to tell Sid about her disturbing dream, it was... just a dream. The library, a landmark hiding 12,245 agents within its walls, was the perfect location for their operations and meetings. No one would ever suspect that the enemy might be hiding in plain sight, in one of the city's most famous public spaces.
Upon arriving, Freya and Sid made their way to the end of the seventh floor. There, behind the heaviest book on the shelf, was a small button. Only those aware of its existence would ever notice it. Freya placed her hand on the button, awaiting the fingerprint recognition. Sid stood guard, watching the surroundings, although no one ever visited this area.
With a soft click, the hidden door opened, revealing a narrow stairwell and a passageway that led between the sixth and seventh floors. It was a cramped, nerve-wracking space, but it had served as their headquarters for months, an uncomfortably close yet secure sanctuary amidst the chaos of the war.
"Go on," Freya instructed Sid, motioning him to enter first. She lingered for a moment, scanning the surroundings one final time before stepping inside and sealing the door behind her.
As they descended the stairs and walked through the dark hallway, the sound of voices grew louder with every step. At the end, a white door stood before them. Freya and Sid exchanged a glance before looking up at the security camera. Awaiting the device to scan their eyes and faces for recognition, confirming their identities.
After a brief pause, a soft click echoed through the corridor as the door unlocked, allowing them to go through.
Chapter #2:
Freya headed to the main office, feeling the familiar sense of nervousness as the door shut behind her. Sid had already entered several minutes before her while she prepared her files, he stood near the coffee machine, waiting for her. As soon as their eyes met, he handed her a cup with a smile, but the tension in his eyes were unmistakable. She took her seat at the large table where all the division captains were gathered, their second-in-command standing nearby.
The room was quiet, the air was thick with silent frustration, especially after the recent events between Divisions One and Three. Only Scheld Ecclestone, the agency's leader, looked calm, his sharp eyes sweeping over the captains. He was the man everyone in the building respected, and in this room, his word was law.
"Ms. Freya," Scheld said, his voice breaking the silence, "I'm glad you could join us today. We were just discussing some minor distractions that occurred in the other divisions."
Freya's eyes flickered, 'minor distractions' was his way of referring to the fight that had broken out between Division One and Division Three a few days ago. One of Division One's inferiors had lost his brother in action and blamed Division Three for their failure in security. It started as an argument but then quickly turned into a brawl, causing tension throughout the agency.
Behind her, Freya could feel Sid's anger rising. He had always been protective of the inferiors, seeing them as more than just soldiers, but family, and hearing Scheld dismiss the incident as minor had clearly struck a nerve. She tapped her finger on the table lightly, a gesture for Sid to calm down. He relaxed, but the anger in his eyes still remained.
"Ms. Freya," Scheld continued, leaning back in his chair, "would you like to share any updates on your current mission? Any progress?"
Freya nodded, pulling a folder from her briefcase and handing it to Scheld "We've recovered one file, but the rest were taken during the escape. We are tracing them now as we speak."
Scheld flipped through the file, then closed it with a small smirk. "As expected from the captain of Division Five. Keep up the good work."
The praise felt empty, but Freya knew better than to argue. Scheld was not the type to give compliments easily. She could only nod.
Scheld stood up, pulling down a projector from the ceiling. "Captains! I hope you take your missions to heart, because this one will be no easy task. The details are provided in the files in front of you. We are short on personnel, equipment, and time, but this very mission will decide the fate of America and China. Now go, complete your missions knowing that every sacrifice is another life saved.."
With that, the meeting ended, and the captains started to file out, heading back to their divisions.
Freya closed the door to the storage room behind her, leaving the muffled noise of the agency's main hallways on the other side. Sid sat down at the small table, his hands still clenching and unclenching, and she could tell his mind wasn't on the meeting they'd just left. She took the seat across from him, her eyes focused as she waited, knowing that if she spoke first, he'd only get more tense.
Finally, Sid broke the silence, his voice low. "Have you thought about what happened at the border last week? How close it got?" His tone was unusually tight. "No one in that meeting even knows the half of it."
Freya's jaw tightened, her gaze dropping. "I think about it more than I'd like to admit. We almost lost everything when that second team didn't show." Her hands slowly balled into fists as she recalled the last mission's failure.
"They had five minutes to reach us. Five minutes," Sid said, his voice a low growl. "I was watching the clock like my life depended on it... No, it did. If the extraction team hadn't stopped us at the last second, we'd be sitting in a cell across the border right now. I don't think they realize what it means to face that kind of risk."
Freya looked up; her expression dark. "That's why we don't report everything, Sid. The agency talks about sacrifice, but if they knew we had to run under that kind of fire, they would just say it was a risk worth taking."
Sid nodded "They'd just read it as a 'mission complication,' and nothing more." He hesitated, then sighed, running a hand down his face. "But it wasn't just that. Losing communication halfway through… I was worried we'd all get separated"
Freya held his gaze, her voice steady. "We made it out. And next time, we'll be ready. But Sid." she leaned forward, "We can't afford to depend on back-up like that ever again. Next time, we move only when we're certain of every detail. No more gambling or equipment failures. If the agency's willing to let things get that close, then we don't let them call the shots on our safety."
Freya stood, Sid behind her as they made their way to the cafeteria, where Division Five had gathered, waiting for them. As they sat down, Freya gave a brief summary of the meeting to her men. Sid's eyes twitched as he recalled Scheld's description of the men they lead,
Freya had noticed Sid's silence as she turned, he was known for his loyalty towards Scheld. But Freya knew more than anyone that this meeting hit him hard, their last conversation was only a fraction of his anger.
"Sid, I understand how you feel, but arguing with Scheld won't change anything. We are at war. We cannot afford to let emotions get in the way of our duty. There will be a time to defend our soldiers but today is not that time. Trust me."
Sid clenched his jaw, his fist tightening on the edge of the table, but after a moment, he sighed, sitting back in his chair.
Freya reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a small box, and slid it across the table toward Sid. "I know how you feel for them," she said softly.
Sid relaxed his hand and slowly stirred his soup; Freya smiled at Sid and put her hand on his shoulder "Look at me." reluctantly Sid met her eye.
"I know that your feelings for them already show that you will be a wonderful leader. One day you will lead these soldiers, one day I may not be here to protect them or hold myself while others call them names. Please, do not beat yourself up because you could not argue back." Freya eyed the box, signaling him to open it. Sid blinked, confused, before he opened the box. His eyes widened and quickly turned to her; his expression softened. "Happy birthday, Sid Elrod Whitlock"
Sid swallowed hard, blinking back tears. He quickly wiped his eyes, around him the soldiers of Division Five, noticed the moment, and started to cheer and clap.
As the celebration continued, a figure approached them from the other side of the room. It was none other than Andres Johns, co-captain of Division Two, waved them over. "Freya, Sid, if it's not too much of a bother, Cathleen's waiting for you in Hall 8."
Freya nodded, and she and Sid stood, making their way to the hall. When they arrived, Cathleen Ramirez, captain of Division Two, stood against the wall, smoking a cigarette. She glanced up when they approached and extinguished her cigarette.
"Cathleen," Freya greeted her, a slight edge to her tone. "To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you here?"
Cathleen didn't respond immediately. She looked nervous, which was unusual for someone with her reputation. She was known as the youngest one of all the divisions yet that never made her work less efficient,
"I need your help," she finally said, her voice trembling slightly.
Freya frowned. "Did something happen?"
Cathleen hesitated, twisting the ring on her finger, a habit Freya had noticed she does when she is nervous. "Tim… Timothy has been taken."
Freya's stomach dropped. Timothy Banks was one of Cathleen's most trusted men, practically her brother, though not by blood. The idea that he had been captured sent a shiver down Freya's spine.
"When did this happen?" Freya asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"During my mission, we recovered the files, but it was a heavy cost. We lost so many, we recovered the bodies, but we could not find Tim, I searched for him, atleast his remains if he were dead, but nothing."
"Two days later, I received a notification of Tim's tracker, it started to work again but shut down in less than a minute. Something happened, Tim must have turned it on, but somebody shut it. We headed to the area the tracker was last online; it was a garage near the harbor. Only a broken chair behind the craters with Tim's wiped blood was found..."
Freya bit her tongue to hold her anger, Cathleen's duty was to carry out her missions without any of her men being taken, if there was a situation when one would be kidnaped, her job was to silence them immediately. And now... he's missing.
Timothy Banks was not Cathleen's biological brother, but her parents took him in at the age of 9. Knowing that broke Freya's heart but it wasn't enough to make her forgive Cathleen for her incompetence,
"This has nothing to do with me. So why are you telling me this?"
"I did not know who else to turn to," Cathleen pleaded, her eyes filled with desperation. "Your division specializes in tracking. Please, Freya. Help me find him. Find my brother!"
Freya's heart ached for Cathleen, but she knew she could not let her feeling get in the way "If we find him, and he's compromised, if he's given them any information, I am sorry, but he will have to be silenced. You understand that, right?"
Cathleen nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "I know. But please, just find him."
Freya sighed, her resolve hardening. "I will help you, only if you will guarantee that when he is found, he did not reveal anything. If he did, you must kill him, if not you, then I -"
Cathleen didn't need her to finish the sentence. She understood the stakes. "Thank you, Freya. I will do whatever it takes."
Freya nodded, then glanced at Sid, who was already preparing. They had a mission, and it wasn't going to be easy.
This very mission will decide the fate of the entire agency...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Freya had stayed overnight at the agency, her nerves were on edge, and her senses were fully alert. The weight of the situation was relentless, China's security was at stake, and all leads pointed back to one man. Every few hours, Cathleen came by, urging her to take a break, but Freya couldn't bring herself to leave. How could she rest with so much on the line?
She bit her lip, studying the security footage from the last known location. Timothy had vanished without a trace, and frustration crept in. If the enemy was willing to play dirty, she could adapt to that. Her mind raced as she replayed the events, searching for an oversight.
A realization hit her as she grabbed her coat. Sid followed closely
"Do you have a lead?" he asked, sliding into the passenger seat as Freya took the wheels.
"Timothy went missing near 31st Street Harbor, Cathleen told us Crate 132, but every camera around the main terminals showed nothing. They avoided surveillance on purpose… which means they took a lesser-known route. And if they had to avoid the main streets, there might be a hidden access in the restricted cargo area where Timothy was last seen."
As they sped toward the harbor, Sid tapped on his tablet, pulling up the harbor's layout and logs. He frowned, double-checking an anomaly in the shipping records.
"Madam Freya... there's no record of Crate 132," he said, his voice wary.
She nodded, the pieces were finally falling into place. "Precisely. They've created a phantom cart, one that doesn't officially exist. It's a cover... an unlisted route to escape unnoticed."
Freya tightened her grip on the wheel as they approached the harbor. "Let's find the cart's last known position and track it from there. If it's their exit route, it's about time we followed it."
Freya parked the car just outside the restricted area of the harbor, keeping a low profile as they slipped out. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and machinery oil, and a fog had already started to settle in. Freya nodded at Sid, who quickly began navigating on his tablet to identify any possible hidden routes.
Sid pointed to a small maintenance gate off to the side, concealed by stacks of cargo crates. "The system shows it's locked, but there's been recent access, around the same time Timothy disappeared. Someone's been covering their tracks well. Only staff should even know this area exists."
Freya examined the gate. "If they used this entrance, then they must have left traces nearby." She gestured for Sid to stay close as they moved through the small passage between the towering containers.
As they went further, Sid tapped into the tablet's thermal imaging. "There's a faint heat signature nearby. It could be from exhaust… like from a vehicle that's been here recently. They must have loaded Tim into something small, something they could camouflage easily."
They followed the trail through the maze of containers until they reached an alley between two large stacks, where Freya spotted something unusual, a small piece of fabric between two corner crates. It was barely noticeable, but its dark color and unusual texture made her pause.
Freya examined the fabric "Kevlar," she said quietly. "They were prepared for resistance, but this is military-grade." Her suspicions deepened. Whoever was involved wasn't just a rogue operator, but they had resources, training, and the anticipation to stay a step ahead.
Sid glanced around; as he knit his eyebrows together in worry. "If they're this well-equipped, they probably anticipated that someone would come after him."
Freya gave a faint nod, piecing together a new plan. "We need to find out where this phantom cart would head next. There are routes out of this harbor that don't get checked as often, hidden paths for unofficial shipments. Can you access the route map for any outgoing ships?"
Sid's fingers flew over the tablet. "Here. There's a small vessel leaving for a private dock just outside the city limits. Minimal security checks, limited surveillance."
"Then that's where we're headed," Freya said
"They may have the advantage, but they've underestimated just how far I'm willing to go."
They returned to the car, setting course for the dock where the mystery ship would dock. Freya knew they only had a small lead, but she was ready to catch them before they could vanish into the night.
Chapter #3:
Freya felt uneasy since the beginning of her search. Nothing felt right, every lead seemed almost too convenient, as if someone was guiding them. She tried to shake the thought. Doubts would not help her find Timothy Banks.
The dock lurked ahead, quiet except for the annoying hum of machinery and the sound of crashing waves. Sid parked the car behind a wall of stacked cargo containers, killing the engine to avoid drawing attention. Freya slid out, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the phantom ship.
It was docked under lighting; it was massive and shadowy against the foggy night. Around it, six guards patrolled, their movements organized. Rifles hung from their shoulders, and holstered pistols glinted under the glow of overhead lamps.
Freya crouched, motioning for Sid to join her. "Do you see him?" she whispered.
Sid shook his head, his fingers tapping quickly on his tablet. The device emitted a soft light as he scanned for thermal signatures. "No sign of him. If he's here, they've kept him out of sight." Freya took a slow breath, her mind racing. "We need to get closer. What's the ship's layout?"
Sid pulled up the closest reference to the ship's model. "There's a hatch at the stern," he said, pointing to the screen. "It leads to the lower decks. If they've hidden Tim, it's probably there. The guards do not seem to be watching that side too closely."
Freya adjusted the dark cloak over her shoulders "We use the containers for cover and head for the stern. Stay quiet."
Sid nodded, and they began making their way through the maze of cargo. Every step was calculated, their movements timed with the guards' patrols. Freya led the way, her instincts leading her as she paused at each corner to check the situation.
When they finally reached the stern, Freya examined the hatch Sid had mentioned. It was locked, as expected. She pulled a slim toolkit from her belt and got to work; her hands steady despite the tension in the air. Within seconds, the lock clicked open.
The air inside the lower deck was damp and heavy. Freya descended first; her boots silent against the metal steps. Sid followed, holding his tablet tightly. The space was dimly lit, the faint yellow glow of overhead lights casting long shadows over the rows of crates and equipment.
"Start searching," Freya whispered. Her voice might have been calm, but her eyes showed her urgency.
Sid nodded, scanning the area with his tablet. "Still nothing," he said quietly.
Freya moved through the aisles, scanning every corner. She checked behind crates, under tarps, and even inside a few unlocked storage units. The silence was suffocating.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but their search led to nothing. No sign of Timothy Banks.
"Nothing," Sid said, his frustration evident as he rechecked his readings.
Freya's jaw tightened. Her fists curled at her sides, she had the urge to scream and punch the wall, but she forced herself to remain composed. "They've already moved him," she muttered, her voice low. "Or... this was never about him being here at all, he was probably shipped days ago. This ship must be the one he rode."
Before Sid could respond, the faint vibration of engines echoed through the ship. Freya froze, her ears straining to identify the sound.
"Madam Freya," Sid whispered, a note of urgency in his voice. "The ship's moving. We're leaving the dock."
Freya's gaze snapped toward the hatch they'd entered through. It was too late to retreat without being seen. "We stay on board," she said firmly. "Wherever they're going, we'll follow."
The ship's journey was long and tense. Freya and Sid remained hidden in the shadows, tucked between crates to avoid being seen. The rhythmic vibrations of the engine were their only indication that they were moving farther from Chicago.
Freya spent the hours replaying the mission in her head, searching for anything she might have overlooked. Had they been lured here intentionally? Was Timothy even part of the equation, or was this something else entirely? Or was she just overthinking it? Timothy was taken a week ago, perhaps they were too late?
When the ship finally stopped, Freya felt a flicker of hope. She motioned for Sid to follow her as they crept back toward the hatch. The air outside was colder, and the distant traffic of a city suggested they were far from their starting point.
Sid squinted at the street signs in the distance. "We're not in Chicago anymore," he muttered.
Freya scanned the dock, her sharp eyes locking onto several black SUVs parked nearby. Armed men were loading supplies into the vehicles, their movements hurried but organized.
"They're leaving," Freya said, her tone clipped.
Sid hesitated. "What's the plan? We cannot follow on foot."
Freya pulled Sid along, heading toward a line of parked taxis. "We follow them."
The taxi driver gave her a curious look as they climbed in, but Freya silenced him with a wad of cash. "Those SUVs," she said firmly, pointing. "Stay back, but don't lose them."
The chase through the unfamiliar city was nerve-wracking. The SUVs wove through narrow streets, and the taxi struggled to keep up without drawing attention. Freya leaned forward; her eyes locked on the vehicles ahead. She felt they were so close, too close to lose them now.
But her hopes were dashed when the SUVs turned sharply into a gated industrial area. By the time the taxi reached the gate, it had shut tight, leaving them stranded outside.
Freya stepped out of the taxi; her fists clenched. She stared at the gate as if willing it to open, but deeep down, she knew they had lost their trail.
Sid approached cautiously. "Madam Freya, we'll find him," he said softly.
Freya didn't respond immediately. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced her frustration to the back of her mind. "They're smart," she said finally, her voice cold. "But so am I. This isn't over."
Her gaze shifted to the horizon as she considered their next move. Somewhere out there, Timothy Banks was waiting, and Freya would stop at nothing to bring him back. This is a war, there was no time for mistakes...
As they returned to the taxi, Freya slid into the back seat, her pulse quickening as unease crept over her. She leaned forward to the driver, her voice tight. "Where are we?"
The driver turned his head slightly, giving her a puzzled glance through the rearview mirror. "Where do you think you are, love?" he replied, his accent sang the words like a foreign melody.
Freya stiffened, her breath hitching. That was no American accent. Her gaze darted out the window, catching the sight of narrow streets lined with brick buildings and lampposts that looked straight out of an old drama.
"England," she muttered, the word laced with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."
The driver chuckled, clearly amused. "You sound like you weren't expecting to end up here."
Freya sank back into the seat, her heart pounding. This wasn't part of the plan, they do not have many agents in England, if they ever needed backup...
Sid did not seem very bothered as he watched the streets with a smile "This doesn't seem so bad..." Freya sighed "I hope so"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cathleen started to pace room, her fingers twisting the ring on her hand as her team worked tirelessly to locate Freya and Sid. Despite their efforts, they had found nothing. Two days had passed since the pair had vanished without a trace, and they might have found Tim.
Cathleen's assistant, Elena Cruz, entered the room, carrying a stack of papers. "Captain, we've reviewed the last known data from their communication devices. There's nothing unusual, but their signal ends near the harbor."
Cathleen slammed her fist on the table, causing the papers to scatter around. "That's not good enough! Freya doesn't just vanish without reason. She must have left something behind, something we have missed."
Elena hesitated before speaking. "There was something in the satellite footage. A ship left the harbor around the same time Freya's team was active. It was unregistered, and no flag. We're trying to locate its destination."
Cathleen turned sharply. "Why am I only hearing about this now? I want every resource on this, find me that ship."
Elena nodded, turning to the main computer. Cathleen exhaled sharply moving to one of the workstations and dismissed the operator, taking over the controls. She pulled up surveillance footage from the harbor, rewinding to the night Freya disappeared.
Minutes stretched into hours, and the silence grew unbearably loud. Cathleen leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. She couldn't afford to lose Freya, not when the stakes were this high.
Suddenly, Elena rushed back in, her face pale. "Captain, we've intercepted a communication. It's encrypted, but it's using Freya's Division's frequency."
Cathleen jumped off her chair. "Play it. Now."
Moments later, a distorted voice crackled through the speakers. It was barely understandable, but a few words stood out: "...England... location... compromised..."
Cathleen's heart sank. England? Compromised??
She clenched her fists. "Trace that signal. I don't care what you do, just find out where it came from..."
Another operator joined in. "Captain, we've picked up a heat signature with Division 5's standard equipment. It's faint, but it's moving through a residential area in London."
Cathleen's mind raced. "London... They're in London." She turned to Elena. "Get me a secure line to our contacts in England. I want shoes on the ground within an hour."
Elena hesitated. "Captain, our staff in England are low. It might take longer to-"
"I don't want excuses." Cathleen snapped. "If we can't send our own people, then we'll hire locals. Freya and Sid are out there, and we're running out of time."
Elena nodded and hurried out, leaving Cathleen alone to think. If Sid and Freya found Tim, it's only a matter of time for her to find them.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Freya and Sid walked through the streets of London, their steps slow and tired. The roads were quiet, much quieter than they expected. Streetlights glowed faintly, some of them started flickering. The air was damp and cold, carrying the smell of rain and something burnt, like an old fire that had gone out.
Sid dragged his feet a little, "We've been walking forever," he said, his voice low. "My legs are sore, and we haven't found anything."
Freya glanced at him. Her face looked calm, but her eyes showed how tired she was. "We can't stop now. Timothy is out there. We just must keep looking."
Sid didn't argue, but he let out a small sigh. They had been searching for hours, and the city felt so big. Every street looked the same, tall old buildings with windows that almost looked broken. There were no people walking around, just silence and the sound of their footsteps.
After a long while, Freya stopped and pointed ahead. "Look. There's something over there."
Sid squinted; a small neon sign flashed. It read Rosewood Inn, though some of the letters were broken, making the sign looked half-lit. Below it was a building that looked old and worn out. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the windows were dark and dusty, as if no one had cleaned them in years.
"You sure about this place?" Sid asked, raising an eyebrow. "It looks like it hasn't been used in a while."
Freya shrugged. "We don't have a lot of options. Maybe someone inside can tell us something."
As they walked closer, the uneasy feeling in Freya's stomach grew stronger. The hotel didn't look very welcoming.
When they reached the door, Freya pushed it open. The hinges creaked loudly, like they hadn't been used in a long time. Inside, the lobby was dimly lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls were covered in faded wallpaper that might have been colorful once but was now dirty and torn in places.
The air inside smelled musty, and dusty, at the back of the room was a small desk, and behind it stood a thin man with pale skin. He had dark circles under his eyes and a strange smile on his face. The smile didn't feel friendly, it was stiff, like he was forcing it.
"Welcome," the man said in a calm, flat voice.
Freya gave him a small nod, unsure of what to say. "We're just passing through," she said, her voice cautious.
The man didn't seem bothered. He just kept smiling. "Of course. Please, take your time."
As they stepped farther inside, Freya and Sid noticed other people in the lobby. A few sat on old chairs placed near the walls. They didn't talk or move much.
No... they barely moved at all. They sat stiffly, with their hands resting on their laps, staring at nothing in particular. Their faces were blank, like they weren't there.
Sid leaned closer to Freya and whispered, "What's happening right now...?"
Freya didn't reply. She kept glancing around the room, her unease growing stronger. The whole place felt wrong. Even the staff moving around seemed strange. They walked slowly and quietly, with the same forced smiles as the man at the desk.
Freya pretended to look around the lobby, keeping her movements casual, but her eyes stayed sharp. She noticed the peeling carpet, the cracked mirrors on the walls, and the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance. Everything about the place felt off.
"I don't like this," Sid said, his voice low. "Let's leave."
Freya hesitated, but she felt the same way. "Yeah," she said softly. "Let's go."
As they turned to leave, the man at the desk spoke again. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? We have many rooms available."
His tone was polite, but there was something about it that sent a chill down Freya's spine. She shook her head quickly. "No, thanks. Maybe next time."
The man's smile didn't waver. "Very well. Safe travels."
They stepped out of the hotel, and the cold night air hit them immediately. Freya looked back through the glass door. The man at the desk was still there, and it felt as if his eyes were following them as they walked away.
"That was interesting," Sid said, rubbing his arms. "Something was seriously wrong with those people."
Freya nodded. "Yeah. I don't think they were normal. We should find a place to stay and investigate it later."
The city stretched on before them, dark and gloomy as Freya and Sid made their way to Bloomsbury hotel.