"Forget about magecraft, kiddo. Even the best chef in the world can't un-cook a burnt steak."
Sunny's Diner got its fair share of customers. Sunny herself knew each and every one by name; they didn't get many visitors, and there weren't too many other places for competition. The regulars knew hers packed the best breakfasts in town. But today was a Monday, so she expected the morning to pass slowly and quietly.
Then the boy came in.
No, he was a man, but that young face could've been mistaken for a teen's were it not carrying the weight of the world. He stumbled over the front carpet and righted himself just in time, managing to make it to the front counter in one piece.
Sunny had never seen him before, but that wouldn't stop her.
"What'll it be, hun?" she asked.
The man blinked at her. Just as she was beginning to consider repeating herself, he mumbled something with a thick accent she couldn't place.
"Sorry?" she said.
"Eggs," he repeated, clearer. "And bread. And sausage please."
"Want 'em scrambled or sunny-side up?" He just stared blankly at her. "Okay, I'll surprise you. Here, grab the window seat." He certainly needed the sun. Poor bloke was as white as fresh paper. Even his once-dark brown hair had paled.
The young man nodded slowly and shuffled to the proffered table like a zombie. Sunny sent up a quick prayer and got to work on the dish herself, wondering the whole time how long it'd been since they'd had such a strange newcomer.
When the man got his breakfast, the eggs were scrambled and dusted with spices. The sausages had been expertly diced and fried. It also came with a cup of rich coffee. He looked up at Sunny, the question on his lips.
She beamed proudly. "Best in the world, stranger. Welcome to Sunny's. I'm yours truly, and this one's on me."
For a moment the veil seemed to lift from the man's eyes, and he smiled back, thanking her with a few whispered words. As Sunny shuffled back to the counter, she saw him shoveling down food with renewed vigor and mentally patted herself on the back for a job well done.
But curiosity was like a cat; it couldn't be kept locked up easily. Sunny sidled over to the strange man's desk once he finished his coffee, with words of refills already spilling from her mouth. He graciously accepted.
"So what brings you to Black Spot?" she asked as she poured him another cup of the special blend.
"I, uh…"
"Oh, forgive the pryin'!" Sunny blushed through her wrinkles. "Just don't get too many visitors, so we're a bit curious is all. I'm from all the way in the good old US of A, myself, so I know how it feels to be the new girl in town."
"I, er, wanted to get away for a bit," he admitted, opening up against his better judgement. "There are so many things happening in Europe. It is hard to keep up." Now that she heard it more closely, he sounded German. Old memories of World War II came to mind, and Sunny chased them away with a broom. It'd been decades, and she wasn't the kind to keep grudges.
"Well you came to the right place!" she said triumphantly. "Don't mean to toot my own horn, but you'll not find a cozier little town on this side of God's Green Earth! Folk here don't trouble themselves with much, so you'll get some looks, but that's about it."
"I hope so," the man said. "We just need somewhere to settle down. I can't work on my research when everyone's trying to catch me. There is no free time, constant interruptions, people trying to get their hands on discoveries…" He trailed off, eyes far away, leaving it to Sunny to steer the conversation back on track.
"So I heard a 'We' in there," she said. "Got yourself a sweetheart? Lookin' for a nice, long honeymoon?"
"N-no!" he stammered. "She's my sister. We are close, but that is all. She's out now, exploring."
"Well I'll be. Now I feel like a right fool."
"It's fine." Despite himself, the boy couldn't help but smile as Sunny's friendly nature rubbed off on him. "You're not the first to make that mistake."
"Maybe I'll be the last, though. Now what was that about research? You one of them scientist types?"
"In a way," was all he said. "More like a… student, working on my thesis so I can graduate."
"Well no wonder!" Sunny laughed. "If you don't mind me sayin', you look like you wouldn't get twenty-four hours of sun if you put together every day o' the year! Now you just sit there and eat your breakfast, and then go and get yourself a nice tan. It'll do you good, believe me!"
Despite the man's initial hesitation, he was quickly drawn in and they conversation continued. No new customers came in, and Sunny ended up sitting down for an early lunch with the new arrival as well. It was only when the clock struck twelve that she realized how long it'd been.
"I must be going," the man said. "Thank you for the talk. I enjoyed it."
"Ah, yeah, me too." Something was a bit off. It was as if a fog had descended upon her mind, and Sunny couldn't shake it. The man left with a smile and a wave, but the fog persisted, until the bell dinged ten minutes later, signalling another customer.
This one was a bit more intimidating. The lady wore a heavy black long-coat, even with the heat of the sun beating down on her back, and didn't seem to be the least bit uncomfortable with it. Her short hair was the colour of snow at night, and she smelt faintly of cigarette smoke and gunpowder. Sunny instantly disliked her.
"Afternoon," the newcomer said.
"To you too," Sunny replied, fog still buzzing but now more of a nuisance than anything.
"I'll have a blueberry muffin, nothing else," the woman said. Sunny dutifully nodded and snatched the item from the glass display case, bagging it and reaching over the counter to hand it over.
The woman snatched the bag, and Sunny's hand with it. "You haven't seen a young man come through here, have you?" she asked. "Average height, weight, maybe looks like he hasn't been getting much sun?"
Was this his sister? No, not possible. Instinctively, Sunny knew she wasn't going to say a damned thing to this lady, who had the nerve to march into an establishment and ask such rude questions. "Afraid not, she said, tugging her hand from the other woman's strong grip. "Sorry, ma'am."
When she looked at her hand, there was a curious symbol on it. Sunny hadn't ever gotten a tattoo, and if she had it certainly wouldn't be there. This one was some sort of squiggly line, crossed with another squiggly line, crossed with another…
"Let's try this again," Natalia Kaminski said, as she left a few coins on the counter and tore into her muffin with small, sharp bites. "Have you recently encountered a man that is obviously not from around here? He likely has a German accent and may or may not appear to be malnourished."
"Yes ma'am," Sunny found herself saying. "Came in and ordered breakfast. We had a good long talk."
"Great," Natalia said, satisfied with both the muffin and the answer. "You just saved me a lot of trouble. Now spill."
Sunny didn't say anything.
Natalia rolled her eyes. "Describe him. How did he introduce himself?"
"Y'know," Sunny began. "I don't even remember getting his name. I must've asked, but I just can't…"
"Forget it," Natalia said. She knew well enough that her mark was too smart to let such personal details slip. She took another look at Sunny. The woman was frazzled, her eyes unfocused. She wasn't going to get much out of this one. "When did he leave and where did he go?"
"Oh!" Sunny perked up. "He said he was going to pick up something at the pharmacy. Left about ten minutes ago. I was just cleaning up his dishes when you came in."
But Natalia was already gone, leaving behind a half-eaten muffin and a bill.
"That poor sister of his," Sunny continued, speaking to empty air. "Apparently she's quite sick. From how he described her, she sounds like the loveliest girl…"
.../\...
Natalia ran. It didn't matter that her overcoat was heavy, or that the sun beat down on her back overhead, or that some people were gawking. She ran through the streets because she was close, closer than she'd been in a week, and she wasn't about to let her mark slip away.
Ahead of her, buzzing through the air, flew a dorcus titanius palawanicus, more commonly known as a subspecies of the Giant Stag Beetle. At ten centimeters it was big enough to bite off a man's finger. This one specifically had been modified into a familiar, allowing the tree-borne beetle to fly, but more importantly, to track down minute traces of magical energy that even a sensitive magus would miss. In this case, the scent it had captured in Sunny's Diner led it straight down the road, and Natalia had no intention of losing the trail.
They reached a four-way intersection, one of the few in the small town. Luck wasn't on Natalia's side; the light turned red moments before she reached her crossing. The beetle didn't wait, buzzing straight across.
Neither did Natalia. She dashed forward, diving past a frantically beeping Porsche and leaping over an ancient 1937 Ford that skidded to a halt the moment its driver spotted her in the window. Gasps from the handful of people watching weren't even considered; she had much more important things to worry about. The last obstacle was a Kenworth truck that towered a full story over her and was as tough as a tank.
Natalia grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes, and tripped.
She flipped, drawing her greatcoat over her body and preserving momentum by rolling straight under the high undercarriage of the truck, for a moment seeing nothing and feeling nothing but nausea and rough concrete underneath, and hearing the rumbling of an engine.
Then she was on the other side, and sprang to her feet, dashing past a bewildered old lady as she chased down the Stag Beetle in broad daylight.
It wasn't raining. It wasn't a gloomy night or even a slightly foggy one. The small town didn't have a depressing bone in its body, and Natalia couldn't have come up with a single relevant hard-boiled quip if her life depended on it. But she was already thinking of the dark things, of tiny tricks and ploys that would put her one step closer to putting a bullet in the man's brain.
The beetle made a right turn into an alley as hard as could be done mid-air. Were it a car, it'd have skidded. Natalia grabbed the edge of a building, dug her fingers into the soft brick, and pivoted, sparing no time for slowing down. At the edge of her vision, for a moment so short it could've been imagined, she saw what was either a mote of dust or the edge of a sleeve disappearing around the next bend.
She pushed harder, feeling the burning in her legs that came partially from Reinforcement and partially from good old-fashioned weariness. She hurdled over a spilt trash can, ducked under a low-hanging fire escape ladder, and as she turned the corner a Colt M1911A1 was in her right hand. It was slightly heavier than she was used to thanks to the addition of a silencer on the end, magically enhanced to eliminate all noise from a shot. Not her usual style, but in a small town investigation it was imperative to keep a lower profile than her target, so she'd reluctantly prepared it.
It was perhaps that addition that prevented a kill. The additional weight lowered her aim just the slightest bit, and the needed compensation sacrificed just enough accuracy to matter in one out of a hundred shots. She let loose the moment her eyes saw something resembling a human body. It was an almost impossible shot at the best of times. The path of the bullet was millimeters from the brick wall's edge, but it flew true. Natalia saw a splash of red blood and heard a muffled grunt of pain before the man disappeared around the other end of the alley, running out into the open street.
Natalia pursued, as did the beetle, but she knew in her heart that it was too late. When she reached the opening she was greeted by a sidewalk, half a dozen cars, and a crowded street full of people participating in some kind of indigenous parade. The mark was nowhere to be seen.
"Fuck," Natalia cursed. She looked back to the beetle, but it buzzed around in confusion, not flying far from the alley exit. He must have realized she'd been tracking him and emitted a pure burst of magical energy to mask his signature. They hadn't been lying when they said this was a slippery one. First sighting since she'd arrived and he'd managed to slip away from her.
Well, it hadn't been a complete loss.
Natalia fished out a plastic bag and a pair of forceps, picking up a slightly smoking bullet from the ground and placed it carefully in a plastic bag, which was then promptly stuffed into her jacket next to the Colt. It was covered in blood. Obviously not a fatal wound, but that wasn't what she cared about.
Natalia retreated into the alley, leaving the locals to celebrate. She pulled a portable radio from her pocket, tuned it to a specific frequency, and depressed a button on its side.
"Come in," she said. "It's me."
Static, and then a fuzzy voice with a German accent similar to the man's, though she had no way of knowing it, "Did you get him?"
"No. You were right; he's a weasel. I lost him in the parade. He threw off that tracker of yours pretty quickly."
There was a flurry of cursing and a few pointless insults about her not being fast enough to capitalize on an advantage, and then, "He knows me too well. He must have anticipated this. Now he'll be twice as careful, and we're left with null."
"Not exactly," Natalia said. "I did get one thing."
"The Crest?"
She laughed. "If I had that, we'd be heading back already. Not that, but think of it as the next best thing."
"A fucking drink that isn't piss water?"
She held up the plastic bag with the bullet, staring at the splotches of red in it. "A blood sample," she said.
"What? That's useless! We have plenty of DNA from before he ran!"
"A very recent blood sample."
The radio was silent, and then erupted with laughter. Natalia joined in, chuckling at some unseen joke.
"Oh, you're good, buddy," she said to herself, switching the radio off.
"You're good, but I'm better."
