VICTORA, BC CANADA

GOVERNERS HOUSE GROUNDS

2040.

James stared at the 3D holographic rendering of the mansion as the car shuddered. The red dot representing Verena gave a final blink before it died out.

“What th-” Jame’s earpiece emitted a screech of radio fuzz. He cried out, flinching involuntarily, his body trying to get rid of the earpiece. He fumbled with it, nearly ripping the piercing out.

I’m going to go permanently deaf if I keep up with this job.

He clutched his ear as it continued to ring. The earpiece emitting static, even after he dumped it in the cupholder.

 So much for his communication.

He closed the hologram and pulled up the cameras. Nothing but grey static. No visuals. The cameras would stop looping if his system disconnected.

The car rattled again, as if taunting him.

The last thing he wanted was to be swallowed alive by a sinkhole and trapped in a car. Better to get out and try and track down what was happening. He launched himself between the seats and started opening boxes. What did he need? Anything, everything. The basics would have to do.

He tucked his pistol into the holster hidden under his jacket. Checking off a mental list as he gathered supplies. Gun, flashlight, taser, watch, small grapple. Check, check, check, check.   

The car stilled again. He held his breath. Was it over? Did he overreact? There was no overreaction for safety.

James looked down at his watch and pressed a button on the side, triggering a holographic menu. He toggled a few settings, sending the hologram zapping back into the watch, the black screen now displaying a compass-like arrow. Except this compass didn’t point north; it pointed to his partner. 

The equipment in the car started to rattle again, louder this time. He opened the back hatch and slid out. Checking once and then twice, he’d locked the car. You never knew who was lurking around, and he wasn’t about to leave a car full of expensive equipment unlocked.

The key, yet another integration of his watch, unlocked any car connected to the Agency, and then some. He could snag an easy getaway if he couldn’t get back to his car.

James decided to skip vaulting the fence and ran around to the entrance gate. If his cameras were down, everyone’s would be. Someone was scrambling all communications, and it wasn’t them. He just had to find out who.

His ears picked up the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Likely emergency services alerted to the supposed earthquake emitting from the Governor's house grounds. Not his biggest concern, he could flash a false badge or two and talk his way around them. But it was a situation he’d rather avoid.

The streetlights flickered, setting an eerie mood over the estate as every light flicked off in unison. At least he got to skip hacking the gate mechanics. Without power, he could use the manual switch. An estate like this would have a hefty generator, one that should have switched on the second the power went out. Which meant it or the entire system had been compromised.

James bent down, inspecting one of the motors on the ground near the gate hinge. He should only need to disengage one side in order to- He paused, sensing something behind him. Or rather, someone?

Keeping his body hunched over the gate mechanical, he kept his interest in it. Keeping his breath low and even. Any change in his body language would signal his would-be assailant that he was aware of them. If it was the Torin, as he suspected it was, they wouldn’t hesitate to jump him if they thought he sensed them.

He continued his task, if they wanted to attack him, they’d done it by now, chances are they wanted him to pave a way in, see where he went. As James unhooked the gate from the motor, the ground shook, rattling the metal. The stile that he’d released swung open voluntarily. James took the opportunity to sprint down the driveway. He wouldn’t be able to hear his mysterious shadow, but at least he may be able to gain some distance in the confusion.

The ground shifted beneath and his ankle twisted mid-step, he hit the ground hard. He tucked and rolled, keeping himself in the middle of the driveway, away from anything that could fall. The tremors hadn’t subsided, but they didn’t seem to be getting worse. How long did earthquakes usually last? 

James peered through the smashed windows. What he would give to levitate right now. With the ground shaking, he couldn’t get a clear view through them. He checked his watch again. The arrow was shifting ever so slowly to the right. She was on the move then. He’d turned to run around to the far-right side of the building when another rumble started to bubble up from the ground. 

He ran harder, tripping and stumbling his way over the moving ground. He just had to get to the other side. Just had to get to a door.

Someone shouted behind him, but it was lost in the rustle of leaves.

The earth shuddered violently, a final hurrah to its efforts. Then the air itself seemed to explode.

The world spun around and glazed over. He felt himself shout, but didn’t hear it, lost in a cacophony of ringing.

Reality snapped back the second he collided with the asphalt. He inhaled hard, cold oxygen overwhelming his brain.

Too much air.

He clutched his head, but it didn’t stop the ringing pain. Colours flashed across his eyes like lightning bolts, fading with the pain as he controlled his breath, hands tearing at his shirt buttons, his tie.

Control, he needed control.

His vision cleared with each blink. The warmth of the asphalt driveway seeped through his suit jacket.

 The night sky glared down at him, the stars twinkling. Some of them moving lazily across the sky. They almost looked close enough to touch. Pulsing red and orange.

His hand moved slowly to brush the sky, swatting a star away in the process.

Burning his finger.

James sucked another breath in, smoky tendrils contaminating it. Tasting like bittersweet wood and the sea.

Smoke?

He sat up too fast, but even in the wavy world his vison showed him, it was clear what the scene before him was.

The mansion was burning. He rubbed the burn mark on his finger. gritty ash crumbled from it.

The ringing in his ears had long faded, coating everything in a strange form of quiet.

Verena.

James lifted his wrist. The arrow on the scuffed screen still pointed in the same direction. But now it didn’t seem to move. Or maybe it never had. Everything was still now.

Well, expect for the flames eating away at the mansion.

The tongues of fire flickered violently, stealing away his night vision. 

He stood slowly, bruised in too many places. A feeling he knew too well. You got up, you continued, you dulled it out.

Smoke gathered in whisps above his head. The fire was far enough above him that it fell and rose before it touched the ground. At least the smoke wasn’t fighting him. Everything else was.

Slowly stepping forward to test his footing, he gave a slow look around. He didn’t see anybody else. Didn’t hear anybody else. He couldn’t hear anything but the ringing. He screwed a finger in his ear as he walked. The ringing just continued inside his head. He tried the other ear with the same result. Deaf. Great. He was deaf. Ideally, temporarily deaf.

James rounded the corner of the building. There was no sign of the suspected Torin agent who’d been trailing him before. Maybe they’d been hit worse when the building exploded in flames. He scanned the wall of the house. There was indeed a door hanging off its hinges. Bodies-no people, were slowly stirring, crawling away from the building. Recovering from the shock as slowly as James would have liked to.  

 He resisted the urge to stop and check on each of them. They were moving. They were fine. Emergency services would be here in seconds. He passed them, allowing himself a few scans for major injuries.

Yet none of them were Verena. So where was she?

From that point, the path winding through the gardens opened into a lawn and a pool. It swarmed with people, moving slowly in a wave of colour and ash.

The ground grew soft beneath his shoes as he began to walk the perimeter of the shocked guests, searching every human clothed in a black suit for any resemblance of his partner.

He could shout. But his volume control and his ability to hear her reply, was not reliable. Not like shouting out a covert agent’s name was a wise idea, anyway.

If she saw him, she’d find him. 

 Cold water spurted up from the grass. James sputtered and tried to block the spray with his hands. The rich and their obsession with year long green lawns.

 In this case at least it was being useful. With the demeanor of a wet dog, he contained his search. Only encountering patrons in ash-dulled dresses and suits, sporting dazed and scared expressions as they watched the manor burn.

Red and blue lights flickered through the trees. He should have heard the siren.

Where was Verena?

A hand gripped his shoulder from behind, and James spun and stumbled, heel digging into the wet ground. Instinct had him swatting the hand away before he recognized the owner.

Verena, wet and singed, gripping the shoulder of an older man with her freehand. Her mouth formed soundless words. Her jacket and hostler gone, shirt smeared with dirt and soot.

The agency wouldn’t like the evidence of her weapon, hopefully it had melted. Could fires even melt gunmetal?

She moved her mouth again, waving her hand at him.

It was a bad day for communication.

James spoke slowly, gesturing with his hands to his ears. I can’t hear you

Verena’s face wrinkled in confusion, then frustration. She sighed, waved in the direction of the emergency vehicles and then the opposite side of the building, and finally, the car.

Oh, right, the car. He took another glance at the dazed man Verena was keeping off the ground. He seemed, familiar.

Verena brushed past him before James could match the face to a name. He picked up behind her. Flashlights flickered across the lawn as the emergency services members fanned out and assessed the situation. 

James unlocked the car as soon as the roof was in sight over the wall. They’d have to seek out the gate and past the ambulance parked in the drive. Although with everyone else currently y busy with the blaze and the people, they simply walked by.

“unk.” James stopped. What was that sound?

Verena waved at him, miming opening something with her hand while she spoke. “trunk?” Her voice faded in and out like radio on the edge of a signal. But, he heard it. 

He tapped his watch, and the trunk opened. Verena dumped the man inside and stepped around to the passenger side. James opened the driver's side door.

He could drive with impaired hearing, right?

James didn’t have time to figure out the answer as the muzzle of a pistol was stuck in his face. He looked to the handler of the weapon, trying not to focus on the gun barrel lest he go cross-eyed.

The half-masked man seemed to speak to him. To which James raised his hands in mock surrender and faintly heard himself say. “You’re in my car.”

He got a hearty smack in the nose with the metal muzzle of a gun for the comment. “Hey, don’t make me deaf and unable to smell.” He took the few seconds of confusion to size up the gunman.

Male, obviously, not much bigger than James, dressed in tactical cargo pants and a vest, a single-coloured bandana tied around his nose and mouth embroidered with a familiar crest. The Torin.

The infamous rival agency with a century’s long grudge against them that rivaled the Capulets and the Montagues.

He moved his head to peer behind the agent at Verena, but the agent moved with him. Leaving him with only a view of his gun.

James took a slow step back. He’d probably see Verena before he heard her. She’d make a move to disarm the other agent holding her at gunpoint. He just had to wait to use the distraction to disarm him. The gunman was speaking again, loudly, his motions more animated as he became frustrated with James' lack of responsiveness. James picked out words. Premier. Move. Shoot.

The face of the man lying in the back of the car made sense now. The Premier of the province of British Columbia. The whole point of this thing.

The car shifted. James saw a blur in the background as Verena threw her assailant out of the car. The Torin agent's attention shifted over his shoulder. James grabbed the agent's gun, twisting it away and pulling the agent out of the car. Something tapped James’s foot. He ducked and grabbed the gun on the ground as the agent tumbled out of the car, along with his partner.

James moved to the car as he delivered a carefully aimed shot to the agent’s leg. A non-lethal wound that’d stop any pursuit. The locks clicked as James spun the wheel and reversed, pressing the pedal to the floor. The road lined up with the nose of the car seconds later. He kicked it into drive and took off, tires squealing, engine roaring.

So much for staying quiet.