INTO THE FRAY

—> MARGARET'S POV<—

It was 8:00 AM on Friday when my team, and I received our mission briefing from Peder Samuel. Our task was to monitor a crucial variable, but I was uncertain about where to begin.

As I approached the HQ's exit, that thought nagged at my mind. Just then, I ran into another team, led by Peter, a seasoned Kaptan and a close friend. His experience was reassuring, and I felt a sense of relief at the chance encounter.

"Ah, I heard your team recently took down an Alpha?" Peter said, his voice laced with envy. "Which unfortunate creature is next on the Seventh Birlik's hit list?" His raspy tone was accompanied by a sly, curved smile.

Peter's father, Paul, held the esteemed position of Head Peder of the Syntax. Despite being the only one among his siblings without the seven runes, he was his father's undisputed favorite.

As our teammates scattered, Peter and I were left to discuss the matter further. My gaze fell upon his distinctive feature, which always brought a hint of amusement; his shiny bald head.

"Ol' baddie," I began, using the nickname I knew he despised. His expression darkened, but he let me continue. "A variable popped up during my last mission. My objective was to identify him and eliminate him if he harmed any human. The problem is, I'm clueless about where to start."

"Tell me more about him, Margo. To what extent did he impact your hunt?" He asked, preparing to draw a few conclusions. His use of the nickname I loathed was a deliberate jab, a tit for tat, and I knew he was aware of the irritation it caused me.

"He delivered the final blow," I said, nodding toward the exit, signaling him to follow me out of HQ. "Judging by his transformation, he's neither a Vampire nor a Werewolf. I have no idea what he is."

"This mission exceeds a Birlik's capabilities," he said, his voice firm as we descended the stairway leading out of our mystical realm. The walls were adorned with portraits of celestial entities, their ethereal gazes watching us pass. "Variables are a Tadur's jurisdiction. Which Peder assigned this mission to you?"

"Peder Samuel," I replied, shrugging it off. "Regardless, I'll deploy my teams to scour the city. Speaking of which, what's your current mission?" I asked, diverting the conversation as I approached the password entry box mounted beside the twin metal doors that separated our realm from the mundane world.

"Allow me the pleasure of entering the password," Peter said with a hint of amusement, "I wouldn't want to strain a fairy." His tone was playful, but his expression turned serious as he continued. "A blonde woman was bitten to death just a few hours ago, around midnight. I heard Mr. Seth reported the incident to my father, who then assigned me to monitor the location for the next three days."

Mr. Seth was a revered figure in the Syntax, being the first son of the Kral. While he may not have achieved the same legendary status as his father or brother, his accomplishments were nonetheless awe-inspiring. My father once mentioned that Mr. Seth's relatively low synchronization rate was the only factor that hindered his ascension to the throne. Otherwise, he possessed all the qualities befitting a Kral.

Peter punched in a sequence of numbers, and the metal gates hummed to life, sliding open with a gentle nudge from an unseen celestial force.

As we stepped out of HQ, a blast of radiant light enveloped us, and we found ourselves standing before a dilapidated building in the heart of a neglected neighborhood.

Our teammates were already waiting for us outside, their faces turned toward us with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Good luck, Peter." I said, before turning to join my team, who were already gathered beside a row of sleek black sedans, their engines purring in anticipation.

Peter's voice cut through the air, stopping me in my tracks as he walked toward me. "I've got an idea," he said, his eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Why not join me on this mission? Variables often gravitate toward areas of turmoil. Given the urgency in Mr. Seth's tone, as my father mentioned, this case seems particularly volatile. There's a chance your target might appear in this area. The likelihood may be slim, but it's still a lead worth exploring. As you planned to deploy your team to scout the city, why not have you and two Askers join us? You might pick up on some valuable clues."

I weighed the pros and cons, considering Peter's words. Although the likelihood was slim, this case could potentially be a lead. Before committing, I posed a crucial question: 'If Mr. Seth described the situation as volatile, why didn't your father assign a Tadur to the mission?"

He chuckled and shrugged. "I'm just following orders. No questions asked. So, what's your answer?"

"Isaiah, Christianah, come with me. The rest of you, fan out and cover the city. Report any unusual findings directly to me," I commanded, asserting my authority, before turning to Peter. "I'm in. Let's move out."

Peter nodded and turned to leave, but after a few steps, he pivoted back, his expression serious. "Your team is short two Askers," he observed, his tone somber. "What happened to them?"

"My voice was subdued as I replied, 'Dead. Killed by the Alpha."

The question transported me back to that fateful night, replaying the events that unfolded after the hunt. Isaiah and Tony had been rushed to the Syntax's infirmary, where a Peder had utilized his rune of healing to tend to their wounds. 

Later that night, we had laid our fallen comrades to rest, surrounded by a somber gathering of mourners, including their families, colleagues, several Kaptans, and a few Peders. I had been among those who paid their respects.

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy toward those in higher authority, who possessed a broader range of abilities that could aid them in cheating death time and again. It was a stark contrast to the vulnerable existence of Askers, whose lives were often cut short in the line of duty.

Isaiah and Christianah had already slid into the sleek sedan, leaving me to respond to Peter. As I prepared to join them, Peter's voice rang out once more. "Don't grieve, for they're at peace. As per protocol, it'll take the Syntax at least two weeks to assign two new Askers to your team. If you need my assistance in the near future, don't hesitate to reach out."

As soon as Peter finished speaking, he walked away toward his car. The Seraphlings had already settled into their vehicles, poised for departure. As Peter and I slipped into our respective cars, he smiled at me. Normally, three Askers would ride together, while a fourth Asker accompanied the Kaptan in a separate vehicle. However, with my team short-handed, we had to adapt. Isaiah and Christianah, my most skilled subordinates, rode with me, forming an unconventional two-Asker, one-Kaptan unit.

With a wave of Peter's hand, the cars roared to life and began to move. Eight sleek black sedans emerged from the neglected neighborhood, their shiny surfaces glinting as the radiant sun cast its rays upon them. They wound their way through the streets, a procession of dark, polished vehicles that seemed out of place in the rundown surroundings.