Unnoticed, he crept into the charred remains of the facility. From the look of things, it seemed this was the source of the explosion Arvin heard.

Dragging his hands in the black ash, he raised them to his nose. A quick sniff confirmed his beliefs. Without uttering a word, his eyes scanned over the littered bodies. There were men in red suits or white jackets. Guards? He presumed the red coats were the guards. The white jackets belonged to the scientists and medical personnel. But there were still others. Weathered, torn jumpsuits with embossed numbers and letters.

Prisoners.

Brows knitting together, he turned his nose to the wind. Nostrils flailing, he picked up a familiar scent.

"Melik!"

His body phased from existence only to reappear further down the hall from where he originally entered. Eyes scanning the cell before him, he made mental note of the etching in the wall. The number of lines correlated with the number of days Melik had been away.

Stepping from the cell, his grizzled eyes found little flecks of sand still caught on the cast iron bars.

"Definitely Melik," there was a warmth to his breath. "Looks like he escaped." Knowing this caused him to ease up some. He no longer needed to hunt for a body... well, at least not here.

"Hey," a voice called from his backside. "This are--"

Fritz twisted his head back to see who addressed him. It was someone clad in a suit. To his left was a man in red and to his right a... a woman in shackles? She was hardly dressed and seemed... crazed?

"Janora," his eyes slipped to the woman, "do us proud. Kill him. We can't have any outsiders investigating this private matter."

The guard in red snorted but didn't seem too phased by the order given. This caused Fritz to hike up a brow. Why would he pick the near-nude woman over a trained assassin? Fritz's mind recalled learning about an employer who sought highly lethal individuals to apply for an Elite Red Guard position.

"Leave," the words slipped from Fritz's pursed lips. "I have no desire to fight you."

Janora cracked a wicked grin. "Sorry," she hissed, "but we cannot have a spy like you leaking information. You likely work for the IBI."

IBI. Fritz had heard those letters before. Intergalactic Bureau of Investigation. His eyes remained locked on his opponents while his mind tried to discern why he knew this....

"Fritz," her playful shove caused a blush to grow on his face. "You need not worry about me. I'm an IBI agent. I can handle myself. Look," her hand pointed over at Rroy. "Not even Rroy is worried about me." Her hand landed gently on the flesh above his heart. "But," a quick peck met his cheek, "I am glad to know you are worried."

A larger wrinkle formed between his brows. If they were worried about him being IBI, then that likely meant they were an enemy to the IBI--to Aleu. Could these three be behind her untimely death? No, his frown deepened. They were likely just pawns in a much larger game. But, if he played his cards right, he cou--

His eyes jumped forward. The woman, Janora, was advancing.

"Very well," he said in a dry, monotone voice.

As her clawed hand swung at him, Fritz jumped backward. They danced this dance a few more times before Fritz swept his hand behind his back. When the hand reappeared, a stout cylinder could be found in his grasp.

Janora cackled. "What the hell is that supposed to be," her purr echoed down the crumbling hallway.

Not wanting to leave the lady's question unanswered, he thrust his arm forward. The action caused the hollow cylindrical tube to grow and grow. Soon, it stretched about 7-feet long, still retaining its 2-inch width.

"A... pole?" Janora snorted with delight. "Oh hunny, that won't save you." Her tongue lapped across her hand. "Afraid this kitten likes balls of yarn."

Fritz didn't even bother to express his disdain. Twirling the pole, he placed it gently behind his neck. "I ask you again, leave or I will have no choice."

When they didn't take the hint, Fritz sighed. "Fine."

Janora flew forward. Claws against metal caused a sickening sound to fill the air. Her hiss followed and she noted that scratching the pole was not a smart plan. Focusing her attacks on the flesh, she flew at him again.

Like the time before, Fritz's pole swung between he and the woman. It always came out of nowhere and it was beginning to piss Janora off. "Oi," her feral eyes flew to the assassin, "why don't you stop standing their and help me." The Elite Guard nodded before pulling out a...

Whip.

His face became void of emotion. This was literally the kinkiest fight he had ever found himself in.

The guard and Janora had worked together, Fritz could see this plain as day. It meant he would actually have to do some work. With an annoyed sigh, he focused his attacks on Janora. Swing after swing, he kept the cat-woman at bay. This, of course, left the guard open to grab him. And grab him the guard did do.

As the whip latched itself around his left wrist, Fritz sent the male a cold, harsh gaze. Then, as if the pain didn't phase him, a smile crawled onto his face.

The guard had no time to react for next thing he knew, a gust of wind ripped him down the hallway and into a protruding foundation piece. He was out of play so that left the woman and the man in the suit. With his gaze on Janora, he literally pulled the air from her lungs. As she pleaded for mercy with her eyes, Fritz left no room for forgiveness.

As Janora fell limp, Fritz's teal orbs landed on the only one left.

"An escaped experiment. Gray hair. Green eyes. Force pow--"

That was all he got out before Fritz vanished before his eyes. The suited man trembled. How... how did he...

"Behind you," Fritz cooed while slipping a blade across the man's throat. When the body fell limp against the ground, Fritz curb-stopped the communication device before arrogantly snorting. "And it's wind."

Flicking his chin-length fringe from his face, he dropped to search their bodies for clues. Sure enough, he found something. A map. A location. It was... upon the hill.

Eyes closing, a wind rushed into the tunnels below the earth. Seconds later, he vanished.

"A helicopter?" His brow curved upward. There were a few bodies scattered here and there but nothing really explained what had happened. That was until he saw the fading remains of sand.

"Melik," his words were robotic. Rushing to the fleeting flecks of sand, he dug his hand into the snow. Gingerly, he pulled his thumb over the leftover remains. "Where are you?"

Head turning to face the storm, he furrowed his brows. "Rroy," he spoke as if the man was beside him, "I will make things right." Clenching his fist around the snow and sand, he grit his teeth. "I promise."

---

---

It didn't take him long to figure out which direction Melik went. There were little breadcrumbs that led him to the ravine where the sewers dumped. However, the trail went cold after that. Didn't help that the weather had gotten worse, much worse. Finding golden sand in a sea of white was hardly easy. Still, the cold didn't bother him. He was far too used to Rroy's antics to let the cold get the best of him. He had a mission to complete and a promise he had to fulfill. It certainly helped that the worst part was already over, or so he hoped. Tight, small places weren't ideal for the 6-6" male. The number of times he nearly hit his head while working in those small crawl spaces was more times than he wanted to count. And let's not forget the godawful smell. Unlike Melik, Fritz's nose was as keen as that of a dogs. He could most certainly smell the fecal scent left behind.

Rolling back his shoulders, he stiffly scoped out the area. If he were Melik, he would seek out shelter from the storm. To his left was a lush forest. It would be the perfect shield to keep the cold at bay. It would also give him cover and unsure of who the enemy was, cover made sense.

His long legs waded through the snow as if it was nothing. In no time, he was in the thick of the woods looking for any signs of a struggle or movement. However, nothing stood out. Not even remotely. Finding the adorable redhead would be much harder than he thought. It was time he rely on his old-fashioned technique.

With a long, calculated exhale, Fritz plopped himself down in the snow. As his rump made contact with the ground, clouds of snow fluttered around him. Most would call him crazy for sitting square in the snow, but Fritz had more pressing matters to worry about. A wet ass was hardly worth it.

Eyes closing, he bowed his head while pressing his palms together in front of his chest. His pinkie, ring, and middle fingers folded over one another. Next came the thumbs. Index fingers tucked beneath his nose, he inhaled lightly. Some meditation might help him focus.

Silence surrounded him. He had lost himself in it and slowly, bit by bit, the wind began to speak to him. It bounced off trees and carried the soft falling of the snow from the sky. It told him there were some deer to the far right. And atop the mountain, a search party came to see the fairs of the war they attempted to wage. Then, out in one direction, came the faintest of sounds. A women's voice.

Eyes opening immediately, he hastened forward to the point where his body literally vanished. His long strides and quick footing soon brought him to a woman seated neatly on a rock. Her actions were suspicious so he stayed at bay. Much like Rroy, he had learned how to become a stalker. His eyes watched her every movement and in no time, he had learned that she could control water. She seemed to be collecting it? That meant that others were nearby and likely part of her crew. But, based on the lack of movement around her, this one was alone.

Likely an experiment, he presumed. But did that make her a friend or a foe? Was the IBI trying to protect or eradicate her kind?

Stepping out from behind the trees that veiled him, he stood still. His arms were neatly as his side and a stoic look on his face. The cold breeze caught his hair and tussled it, every now and again creating large shadows across his face, completely masking his cyan stare.

Would she notice his presence? Or would she go about her business, completely blind to the fact that I man with fatal tendencies was about 12-feet from her.

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