The Investigator of Rubbles

Agent Griffen adjusted the collar of his ill-fitting suit, the fabric stiff and new, much like the newly established paranormal investigation group he was now a part of. In the chaotic aftermath of the sudden supernatural phenomenon outbreak, the British government had scrambled to form this unit, and the pressure was already crushing. Their current assignment: pinpointing the epicenter of an incident that had turned a quiet London neighborhood into a disaster zone.

Satellite intelligence had guided them to this exact spot, a residential street now cordoned off with bright yellow tape. The air still carried a faint, acrid tang, mingling with the scent of damp earth and shattered plaster. Griffen had spent the better part of the morning doing the rounds, questioning shell-shocked witnesses and sifting through the wreckage of what had once been an ordinary apartment building.

Suspicion pointed squarely at the destroyed apartment unit itself. But information about its residents was strangely missing, as if no one had ever lived there. Even as his team dug deeper into official records, all they found were traces of a long-deceased former occupant, a digital ghost from decades past. Nearby camera footage, crucial for any investigation, was mysteriously absent, tampered with by an unknown, highly sophisticated party.

Adding to the chaos, numerous people had been injured or killed in car accidents across the city, as a result of this mysterious event. Vehicles had veered off roads, collided head-on, or flipped, leaving a trail of devastation that the public pressured for answers.

Frustration simmered beneath Griffen's calm facade. He knocked on the door of another nearby resident, a polite but firm rap that yielded no response. He sighed, turning to his partner, Agent Davies, who was meticulously sketching the blast radius on a tablet.

"Anything, Davies?" Griffen asked, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

Davies looked up, his face grim. "Nothing tangible, Griffen. It's like trying to interview a ghost in a dust cloud. Every lead evaporates, every piece of evidence points to nothing. It's extraordinary, isn't it? Just... extraordinary."

"Extraordinary isn't going to cut it when Whitehall starts demanding answers," Griffen muttered, his gaze sweeping over the scene. "The brass are breathing down our necks, Davies. They want results, and they want them yesterday."

"Tell me about it," Davies scoffed, shaking his head. "And it's not just our lot. Intelligence chatter indicates other government agencies are taking a keen interest. French, German, even the bloody Russians are paying attention." He paused, a flicker of genuine puzzlement in his eyes. "But the Yanks... the Americans are strangely quiet about all this. Too quiet, if you ask me."

"Maybe they're already involved," Griffen mused, his eyes narrowing as he remembered the auction report. "Given what I saw at the auction..."

"Then how come we don't know anything?" Davies retorted, his frustration boiling over. "Britain might be on the decline in global importance, but our history, our bloody might, had to have picked up something in the past! Especially the goddamn French, given Durandal, as you reported, may be linked to this. How could they be in the loop and we're just... sitting ducks?"

Griffen only offered a tight shrug. "How am I supposed to know? Maybe it's some kind of masquerade, and they can brainwash people with magic or something. What matters is that we're in the dark, Davies, and we are going to uncover it." He sighed, the sound heavy, but his gaze held a flicker of grim conviction as he turned and walked towards another house, ready to knock again.

______________________________________________________

Griffen pushed down the lingering frustration, forcing a polite smile as he knocked on the next door. It belonged to an elderly couple, their faces etched with worry from the recent events and his sudden presence.

"Good morning, ma'am. Sir," Agent Griffen said, offering a polite nod as he held up his badge. "Agents Griffen, with the Investigation Task Force. We're still following up on the incident a few blocks down—the apartment collapse. We're doing a secondary sweep, just trying to piece together who lived in the affected units. Mind if I ask a few questions?"

The couple at the doorway—an elderly man in a flannel shirt and a woman with a tightly wrapped shawl—glanced at each other. The man stepped back, silently inviting them to speak to his wife, who was already wringing her hands nervously.

"It's... it's been such a shock, everything," she murmured, voice dry and breathy. "Terrible what happened."

Griffen gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "We understand, ma'am. We're just trying to get the full picture. Do you happen to recall anything about the resident in unit 4B? That apartment took the worst of the damage."

She hesitated, then glanced back toward her husband as if to confirm she wasn't misremembering. "It was... a young man," she said slowly. "Japanese, I think. A student. High school age. He was quiet. Always polite. Kept to himself."

Griffen perked up instantly, trying not to show the sudden charge running through him. "Japanese high school student," he echoed. "That's very helpful. Do you happen to remember a name?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. We didn't speak much. Just a few hellos when passing by."

He stepped away from the porch, already digging his phone out as he walked briskly toward Davies, who was tapping on a tablet while leaning against the hood of their black SUV.

"We've got a lead," Griffen said under his breath. "Japanese high schooler. Might be an exchange student. Could explain why we've had nothing in the local databases. Check school registries, anything with international programs, especially Japanese."

Davies's fingers danced across the screen. He scrolled, frowned, scrolled again. "There's one school nearby that fits: Langley Prep. They've got an active exchange program. But…" he looked up, brow knit. "I'm seeing full attendance. Every student listed as present."

Davies's fingers danced across the screen. He scrolled, frowned, scrolled again. "There's one school nearby that fits. They've got an active exchange program. But…" he looked up, brow knit. "I'm seeing full attendance. Every student listed as present."

Griffen didn't slow his pace. "Too neat," he muttered. "Cameras wiped, utilities paid in cash, no digital trace—someone wanted this kid hidden. I don't buy that every student's accounted for. We'll check itourselves."

Within the hour, a sleek black SUV pulled into the visitor's lot of Langley Preparatory School. A few teens loitered in the courtyard, their chatter dying off as the suited agents stepped out. Badges weren't shown—but the government air was unmistakable. Rumors started before they hit the front steps.

Griffen and Davies made their way inside, joined by two more agents from the van. They kept their approach subtle—no full sweeps, no official announcement. Instead, they quietly pulled aside groups of students during breaks and lunch. Just "a few questions" for "a routine exchange student survey."

Eventually, Griffen approached a small group near the library stairs. "Hi there," he said, casually flipping open a notepad. "We're doing a little follow-up related to the school's exchange program. Have you had any Japanese transfer students this year?"

A short silence.

Then one of the students, slim with black hair and glasses, spoke up with cautious clarity. "Kaito Tanaka," he said. "He's an exchange student from Tokyo. But... he hasn't been at school since Friday. We thought maybe he was sick, but we haven't been able to contact him. I hope you could help."

Griffen didn't react outwardly, but his pulse quickened. Bingo, finally, a name.

As they made their way out, ready to relay this crucial piece of information to the rest of the team, Davies nudged Griffen. "Hey, Griffen. That girl... she's been staring at us for a while now."

Griffen glanced over. Sure enough, a girl with striking black hair and a prominent white streak was watching them intently. As their eyes met, she quickly broke her gaze and turned, disappearing into the flow of students. Griffen frowned for a moment, then dismissed it. Just a curious teenager. His thoughts were already back on Kaito Tanaka.