A low smog of clouds hung heavy around him, stealing the light from the sky. The dusk sky sobbed in waves. Blustering rain drenched the streets, threatening to drown him on the cobblestone bridge.

He rooted at the foot of the bridge with a gnarled expression, facing up at the statue. The dim streetlights flickered, and the angel's venomous green eyes flashed in the light.

The roar of the storm. The blood pulsing in his ears. The water rushing beneath his feet.

A second of darkness. A flash of light. A pair of vivid jade pupils begging for attention. A second of darkness. A flash of light. The eyes, bulging and bloodshot, the eyes-

Allen couldn't bring himself to look away.

Nea reached into Allen's pocket and yelled, "Call Lavi, he'll know how to handle this!"

The flickering streetlamp threw shadows of horrid creatures climbing out of the cobblestone only to disappear moments after; the shadow of rain dripping down an angel, almost like blood.

Nea shoved the phone into his hand. "Call him!"

"I'm going to help you!" Allen yelled, but his voice broke and uncertainty clung to every word.

"Blink twice if you can hear me!"

He noticed how small the statues were now; much tinier than him, folded in a praying motion with eyes towards the ground.

If he didn't know any better, the statues looked about the size of a 10 year old child.

He stomach started to churn.

A blink, shuttering and difficult. A second blink, resonating through the rain in a flash of the streetlamp.

"I can't do this," Allen said while holding his stomach.

He was starting to hyperventilate, his body refusing the earthy rain and oxygen in the air and instead pumping exhaust fumes through his lungs.

Nea repeated, "You can make a phone call. Get the people trained to handle this down here."

How could Nea act so calm; was part of his subconscious not in absolute upheaval?

He tried, four times, to flip his phone open before his trembling hands dropped the phone. Nea sighed and picked it up, opening it on the first try.

"Shit," Nea started angrily clicking buttons, "Shit! This thing is soaking wet. You have a plan B?"

Pure adrenaline like a bump of cocaine and a shot of liquor.

"I'm coming back for you. I have to get help!" Allen yelled.

The lamp flickered. The statue blinked twice. He felt shivers down his spine.

"There's a payphone down on East-," Allen ran, ignoring Nea, "Hey! That's back towards the-!"

"The bar is closer!"

"You're," Nea seemed a bit disturbed at the prospect, "right. Hold on, You're right? "

"Less disbelief, more running!"

"Why do we have to run? They aren't going to up and walk away," Nea whined, trailing behind him.

He fumbled with the wet keys until finally one fit in the slot. The door opened a full 5 inches and wormed his arm in to unlock the deadbolt.

His clumsiness-he put too much weight on the door when it swung open- dodged the swing of a baseball bat.

"Hey!" Allen yelled, seeing the assailant ready another swing, "Cross, damn it, it's me!"

"Oh." He put the baseball bat down. "You can't tell the difference between you n' an old homeless man in the dark, 'ya know? Uncanny."

"I need to use the phone."

"Use your own phone."

"It's broken."

"How'd 'ya broke another?"

"Break, you mean."

Cross gave him a funny look. "What?"

"Allen, we don't have time for this," Nea said.

Allen pushed past Cross and started dialing on his landline.

"Police or hospital first?" Allen muttered.

His first instinct was to call in an emergency, but all cover the case had from the press would be lost. Although, he didn't know if that was going to hold much longer.

"All hell is going to break loose when four ambulances wake everyone in town up," Nea replied.

"The station, then," he whispered.

"I'll dial, I doubt you remember Roxboro's station anyway," Nea replied, quickly pressing buttons.

"Who'r you talkin to?" Cross asked, sitting on a chair in a huff. "Why ya 'callin the police?"

Fou's voice broke the silence. "Roxoboro Road Guarda Station, how can I help 'ya?"

He looked at Cross who was waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, it's Allen, I was wondering if Lavi was in?" Allen replied cautiously.

Cross raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, we met earlier today! You got your inspector number on 'ya? Sorry, gotta know, it's protocol before I answer any questions."

"Uh," Allen fumbled through his clothes until finding his laminate, "yeah, it's 564zx0."

"Inspector?" Cross asked, laying the baseball bat loosely over his shoulder. "You never told me you worked for the Garda."

Allen put a hand over the receiver. "Just consultation work, bits and pieces."

"Bits and pieces," Cross murmured.

"Proper! Well, Lavi's never bloody here when he needs to be. I think he's up in Dublin this evening, if he's-"

"He's not there?"

"Nope, sorry. Why don't you call him on your cell? He won't pick up a call from the station, God knows."

"It's kind of an emergency," Allen said quickly. "You know the scene we went to, this morning? Is there anyone else on that case?"

A pause, clacking on a keyboard. "No shit, you guys did go to a scene this morning! I thought Lavi was just avoiding me. All the files are locked up because it's the ERU's case, not Roxboro's. Whatcha guys investigating?"

This was taking too long.

"Uhm, there was a guy on the scene this morning, a guy with a stick up his ass."

"He probably has knowledge on the case if he was allowed to work the scene," Nea said.

Fou laughed. "A lot of officers like that, mate."

"He had," Allen tried his best to remember the man, " real proper hair?"

Allen felt his jaw. "And his knuckles should be bruised ."

Fou was laughing so hard she snorted. "You mean you got punched out by Kanda this morning? I have to tell-"

"Kanda! That's the name! Can you connect me to him?"

"He might hang up on you."

"Please."

"With such manners how could I say no," Fou said cheerfully, and then snickered under her breath, real proper hair.

The line went dead, and then began ringing.

It rang three times. Allen wasn't sure he would pick it up at all.

"What do you want?"

"You were working the scene this morning, down by the clothing shop, right?"

A pause. "If I wasn't, you've would've just breached confidentiality. Nice to know we're hiring bloody-"

Allen rolled his eyes. "Great. My jaw is fine, by the way, and I don't plan on suing."

"I still plan on including how you two are royal idiots and destroyed the scene in my report."

"Allen," Nea pointed at his watch, "four bodies on a bridge right now."

"Right," Allen quietly replied.

"Right is right. You realize how much sh-"

"Listen, I don't care. I have-"

Kanda cut him off. "You don't care? You destroyed someone's body, you-"

"Of course I care. Listen! You know the bridge, down by High street? There are four angels on top of it!"

"Yeah. Why? What does that-"

"Angels."

"Cut me off again and I'll-" Kanda stopped.

"You're fuckin' with me, right? This is your way of getting even, some prank call at midnight?"

"Kanda!"

"What?!"

"There are four children propped up on a bridge, so if you could be a doll and get down here before I call 999," Allen's hand was trembling and the phone threatened to shatter in his grip. "Just get down here with anyone working the case, now."

A pause. He could tell Kanda cursed, but not into the receiver. "On my way."

Kanda hung up. Allen broke into tears.

"What's-" He burst out of the door before Cross could finish, phone still sitting on the bar.


He was staring up at the angel again, rain drizzling now in the streetlight's hum of electricity. The river beneath sounded like a beast planning to devour him.

"What can I do?" He said quietly, watching the green eyed gaze nearly strangle him.

The eyes seemed to be following the same track-looking down at their hands, then back at Allen.

"He's trying to tell you something," Nea yelled over the howling of the river.

Allen watched the eyes again.

"Your hands?" Allen yelled.

The green eyes blinked once, then twice. This meager communication still sent Allen's stomach tumbling.

Allen squinted and got closer to the bridge. A wadded up piece of paper seemed wedged between the statue's hands.

He nearly dislocated his shoulder trying to reach it, but the statue was too far away. The walls of the bridge slowly ascended to the pedestals the angels were placed on, so he could possibly…

"Don't even think about it. The rain has made everything too slippery," Nea's fingertips swiped the thin air behind Allen's coat, "Hey!"

Allen jumped up onto the first platform and nearly lost his footing; the stone of the bridge was slick like river rocks.

"Bad idea, Walker. Those boots don't have any tread left on them."

He placed his foot on the next level, grabbing onto the wall to support him. A good idea, since when he brought his other foot up it gained no traction. His fingernails dug in the moss on the sidewalls while he regained footing.

"Are you having fun? Does giving me a heart attack give you pleasure? Get down before you bust your head open," Nea hissed.

"Fine, I'm fine," Allen huffed. "Stop distracting me. It's not even that high."

It was a dead-lift of his weight up to where the angel was placed. All his clothes clung to his skin and weighed at least 100 pounds more.

He felt for the top of the platform-it was hard to see in the rain-and managed to secure both his hands on top.

"I need some kind of spray bottle. No, Sit, Stay," Nea muttered, voice fading in with the river gushing past. "Anything but 'fetch'. You've got that one down."

Allen leaped and an elbow, two elbows made it atop the podium. His feet wrestled with the slimy rock, slipping the second he gained a foothold. After a few seconds of panic, he managed to get one foot in a crevice and pull his other leg up.

"My god, I need to work out more," Allen puffed.

Nea was saying something, but it was lost in the wind and rain. He crouched and carefully stepped closer to the angel. Boots skidding and sliding, he readjusted so that he could crawl over on his hands and knees.

The eyes seemed like jewels molded in the statues sockets, piercing through the rain and directly at him. They seemed even more afraid.

"I called for help!" Allen yelled. "People are going to come get you down!"

The angel closed its eyes for a long time.

"Do you mind if I," his voice faltered a little bit when he noticed the river below, "can I grab that paper in your hands?"

One blink. Two blinks.

"Thank you," Allen said, trying not to shudder.

He got closer to the angel and noticed that it was a concrete coating, unlike the plastic from before. The coating had small cracks and was even chipped clean in some places.

Underneath, the skin was burned. Blistering, flaking. The deep indigo of overripe chemical burns. Black with decay and fatigue.

"You'll be okay," Allen choked out when the statue's eyes fell on him.

It wasn't true.

"I promise."

Ink dripped from the sides of the paper and the writing was almost illegible. The writing was another bible verse.

John 3:3.

He didn't know what it meant, but any religious person wouldn't have done this.

Couldn't, he thought, this has to be a right fucking joke.

A low moan, almost words, seemed to escape the statue's mouth. Allen placed his ear up to the statue's sculpted mouth, chipped to reveal pieces of raw, blistering lip.

"..me…"

"Ill… me…"

"kill…"

"Get the fuck down from there!"

"me…"

The piece of paper nearly tore in his grip. But he held his tears this time, with the officer below staring.

Allen looked down. The statue must have, too, because Kanda yelled an expletive and nearly slipped in the puddle underneath him.

A few ambulances and two officer vehicles had arrived, with their lights turned off in some semblance of secrecy. The streets were empty this late, anyway.

"Take this before it gets ruined!" Allen yelled back, holding the piece of paper down.

Much to Allen's dismay, it wasn't that difficult for Kanda to grab it; in fact, he was almost as tall as the bridge sidewalls. Kanda held it beneath his hood and then looked back at Allen.

"What's it mean?"

Allen didn't know, but he was sure Nea did. A very strange thought struck him.

How did Nea know things he himself didn't?

He decided he had more pressing manners. The rain died down to a light drizzle, and he twisted to get off the bridge, nearly slipping into the river's hungry mouth.

"Watch it! We didn't bring an ambulance for you!"

He expertly jumped down from the podium, but his boots slid on the second platform. He yelped and attempted to grab thin air, but ended up in a sprawled, muddy heap on the stone ground.

"Do you have to be a disaster everywhere you go?" Kanda muttered, offering a hand.

Allen grabbed it, flushed with embarrassment.

"That's a yes," Nea muttered.

"Thanks."

"How the fuck did you find them?" Kanda said.

"I was walking home from the pub-"

"This late? Are you drunk?"

"No, I just-"

"We can't use your testimony if you were intoxicated," Kanda seemed to be fishing around for something in his pockets until he found a flashlight.

"Quit it!" Allen yelled when he flashed the light in his eyes. "I work at the pub right over there!"

Kanda squinted suspiciously. "Abc's backwards. Go."

"That's not even possible if you aren't intoxicated."

Kanda raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, I'm not saying I am! Go ask the manager if you're so inclined!" Allen replied indignantly.

"Kanda," a cloud of smoke strode up to the pair arguing, "I hate to interrupt, but the first body we've taken in had some sort of message in between the hands. The ink is practically unreadable, but the lab might be able to get pen pressure. Probably not."

He stopped and stared at Allen, soaking wet and now with added mud. "Enjoying the rain, are we? I'm Tyki. You must be Lavi's friend."

The man's raincoat covered everything but his shining badge hanging loose and his face. He had a dark, rich tan and a mole right beneath his left eye. Allen almost wondered if it was drawn on with how perfectly it was placed.

He held out a hand, and Allen tentatively shook it with a wet glove. "Allen, nice to meet you. Are you his partner?"

"Mmm, Kanda doesn't like that word. Says it 'cheapens' his work to be associated with me. We're more like," he held a hand up to his chin, "estranged cousins, who have to be in the same place at the same time sometimes."

Allen half smiled at this, not being able to laugh in the wake of the evening.

"Fuck, so we only have the one," Kanda muttered, ignoring them. "Go grab the other notes and see if we can salvage any of the writing."

"You have one? What's it say?"

Kanda seemed hesitant to show Tyki.

"John 3:3," Allen offered.

"A religious killer, oh boy," Tyki muttered. "Any idea what that one means? I haven't brushed up on my bible verses since the last priest threw himself in the river."

Nea whispered, but did not show himself, "Truly, Truly I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God."

"Did Jesus say it? I bet our killer thinks he's Jesus. Damn those Protestants," Tyki sighed. "The Catholics never pull this."

No, Allen thought, Nea said that, not me.

"Probably just one side trying to stir up the other," Kanda muttered.

"Well, anyway, craic work here, Allen! We've scheduled a briefing with the superintendent, the lovely Miss Lee, tomorrow evening. Why don't you go home and get out of those wet clothes?" Tyki added.

"But I-"

"You've done all you can here," Kanda muttered, then stalked off towards one of the ambulances.

"I think he ties his hair back too tight," Tyki drew in smoke, "makes him cranky. He's secretly impressed."

"By the way." Tyki leaned in close, and Allen smelt the bittersweet of cherry clove cigarettes.

"That's a nasty tais you've got hanging around, isn't it?"

Before Allen could reply, Tyki threw a wave over his shoulder. "See you around, kid."


"I'm not a kid, I'm twenty," Allen mumbled back, fifteen minutes later as he trudged home.

"Good one," Nea replied in a tired voice.

The streets were muddled in flooding drains and late evening fog. The adrenaline fizzled out; he was wet, cold, and miserable.

He would've called a taxi if he thought any of them would have him like this.

When he finally made it to his door, he spent much too long fumbling with the lock. Nea finally had to open it, and Allen immediately collapsed on the worn, leather couch.

The efficiency apartment bordered the line between claustrophobic and cozy; it stayed an organized mess of files and old furniture. With no wall between the bedroom and kitchen, it seemed like work was slowly crept onto the laminate counters and wooden cupboards lately.

"You need to change," Nea said with a disapproving look.

"In a moment," Allen murmured, rubbing his eyes.

This couch had never seemed so comfortable.

"You're really going to sleep like that, soaking wet?"

Allen let out a muffled sigh.

"You're going to be late to the briefing tomorrow. And you're going to get sick. And you're going to ruin-"

Nea's eyes always took on a fierce gold when he was trying to convince Allen, like melted-down expensive jewelry. His gaze grew fiercer, almost luminous compared to the slate blue of exhaustion Allen met him with.

"Wet clothes aren't proven to make you sick," Allen replied with a yawn. "And it's in the evening."

"Come on," Nea pulled at his arm, "up an' at 'em! At least take those muddy boots off!"

Allen slid out of his boots and curled up on the couch. Water sloshed out of them and on the carpet, staining it in a muddy puddle.

"You're like a baby," Nea muttered, picking up the boots and throwing them on the front step, "a baby I'm somehow in charge of."

"And you're the most rubbish ghost ever," Allen said. "Haunt a cemetery. Or that evil cop. Or anyone but me, for that matter."

"The one with the real proper hair?" Nea smirked when Allen lifted his head up to glare.

"Oh, what was I supposed to say? He has nice hair! But his personality," the corners of Allen's mouth turned down, "he's like when you think eggs on the counter are fresh, but you crack it open in the pan, and your whole apartment stinks for days."

"You shouldn't call your coworkers rotten eggs, Al."

"Maybe not. But he is!"

"Go to sleep already."

"You go to sleep," Allen mumbled back, drifting off.

Nea sighed again, and sat down on the bed littered with files. Someone had to prepare for the briefing.


He was freezing; did Nea steal the blanket again?

Angrily sitting up, he realized he was not even in bed. He was on the couch, covered in mud and soaking wet clothing.

"Shit," Allen muttered.

A large, soul-searching sneeze.

"Shit!"

A sing-song voice erupted from a mountain of papers on the bed. "I told you so!"

"Not now," Allen muttered, stumbling his way to the shower.

He stopped with his hand on the bathroom door. "Did you not sleep?"

"No, I was too busy," Nea replied with a yawn.

"Does that mean I didn't sleep?"

Nea pondered this for a while, as if choosing what to say. "I have no idea. Depends on if you consider me a ghost or a cool personality subtype."

Tyki's words bubbled to the surface. He'd used an old gaelic word that meant something along the lines of ghost, but he didn't know much else.

Could he sense Nea?

He decided it wasn't the time to worry about this.

"Would going to church send you away?"

Allen never considered himself a religious man; a foster family or two he had back in London were keen on spending every Sunday on their knees. He'd enjoyed putting faith in God back then. However, cases like these made him a bit too cynical to open a bible.

"Hey, that's not nice. You know who's going to save you from looking like an idiot at the meeting? Hm?"

He stripped off the wet clothing and considered turning on the gas for a warm shower.

"You don't have time to wait for the gas, Allen. We need to be at the station soon!" Nea yelled.

He tried to sigh, but ended up sneezing. From the other room, he could hear the TV blaring, a newscast on the "Entomber".


"Everyone's here that's going to show, I guess," Lenalee said with a hint of disappointment.

A large group chattered in the central space of the station, sunlight dying outside the windows. The brick took on a golden hue on one side of the room, and illuminated the whiteboard Lenalee stood in front of.

Allen looked at the very empty seat next to him, a silence amidst the room vibrating with energy and conversation. He sneezed and heard faint laughter from Nea.

"Lavi's not coming," Fou said as she plopped down in Lavi's chair, "might as well get this show on the road!"

"I know. I just hoped the lead investigator of the case might deign himself-" Lenalee stopped herself, swallowing the anger.

"Anyway! I know there's a lot of people in here, but that's because the upper divisions want every officer we have on this case. Five bodies, guys, and we don't even have a profile," Lenalee said, bearing down on the whiteboard with the number 5.

"I thought it was six bodies," someone called out.

"No, a," she flipped through a file, "Timothy Hearst, one of the kids from the bridge, is still fighting. They were all from the same orphanage, and the youngest was ten years old."

Allen could see she was looking at photos of the angels; her face grew saddened at the portfolio of burned skin.

"She's just started the job, see, taking after her brother as superintendent," Fou murmured.

"She cares too much to work with homicides, 'ya ask me. Lenalee does a great job, but it eats her up inside. Just like her brother and his 'early' retirement."

Fou suddenly looked at him with concern. "You found the bodies on the bridge, right? You holdin' up alright?"

"Fine. It was a bit of a shock, but I'm fine," Allen replied without making eye contact.

"Good to hear. We've got a counselor or two for the homicide department if you ever need to get it out without, you know, breaching confidentiality," Fou replied.

"I know one of the ambulance nurses who was on the scene is taking 'leave. Tough break for your first case."

Allen nodded half-heartedly.

"Right. So what do we have on this guy so far?"

No one spoke.

"An old retired priest trying to stir up the religious dissension, teacher!" Tyki called out, waving at Allen.

Not waving at Allen, exactly, but almost below him.

Allen looked down, and sure enough, Nea had a report in his lap and was leaning against Allen's leg.

"You should've saved me a chair," Nea muttered as he flipped through the report. "Can that man really see me? Don't answer that. But can he?"

"Ask about the lab reports on the cement. I bet they rushed them last night and have 'em by now," Nea added.

Allen noticed the silence in the room as Lenalee wrote "religious motive" on the whiteboard in red ink.

"Have the," he faltered when he felt as if everyone's eyes were on him, "I mean, have you received the lab reports on the cement he used for the bodies?"

Lenalee gave him a very odd look, then looked over at a mousey haired woman. "I don't know, actually. We're still waiting on a few. Miranda?"

"Yes, but what does the cement have to do with it?" Miranda squeaked out.

He didn't know. Nea made sewing motions.

"Oh! He sewed the clothes himself, so he probably felt the need to make the cement! Which is why it didn't adhere to the body perfectly and you could see," Allen faltered again when everyone really was staring, "the, ah, skin underneath. Maybe if he used a certain type of material-"

"Karst limestone, with trace seaweed!" Miranda shouted in excitement.

Nea and Miranda yelled in unison, "The islands!"

"Anyone want to explain that nonsense?" Kanda asked.

His arms were crossed, but he sat up just a bit from his slouched position.

"Well, the limestone in the mix is really quite interesting! It's karst limestone, which is usually in the Burren or over east. But, there's trace seaweed in the composition, which means it can't be inland! So the most likely choice is the Aran Islands, because of its-"

"So he made the cement on an island. Keep going without the science shit," Kanda drawled.

Miranda seemed to fold up like a flower bud. "Well, you see, then, I don't-"

"Don't assault her," Allen said while glaring at Kanda. "It's not like transporting wet cement is easy. If he made it on those islands, you can bet he's encasing the victims there. Which gives us somewhere to search, especially because everything is going in and out on boats."

"So you want us to wait until he kills more people, and then possibly stop his little boat because of some rock?"

"You know I didn't mean it like that!"

"Guys!" Lenalee yelled, reserving Kanda and Allen to quiet glares.

"Thank you. This is good work, Allen, Miranda," Lenalee said cheerfully.

"He's not an old priest, if it helps," Fou added in the silence that returned.

"How do you mean?" Lenalee asked.

"The bible verses you have on the whiteboard, one's from the old testament, one's from the new testament. Old Catholics cling to the old testament, and newer folks' incorporate more broad Christianity values, like the new testament. Anyone using the book of John and Psalms has a more liberal look on the bible."

Fou beamed at all the attention, wearing an imaginary "not just a filing flunkie" badge.

"Real liberal, if it also includes the interpretation of murder," a yawning boy muttered from beside Tyki.

"This is good, guys! Let's put this on hold until the rest of the lab work comes back; speculating won't get us far. Marie's been manning the hotline, and a lot of people seem to be calling in. We're going to investigate them all."

Everyone in the room groaned.

Lenalee continued, "Don't make those faces! Someone has to have seen something. I want everyone with their partner in case," Lenalee stopped when she looked at Marie. "Just partner up, got it?"

"Well, back to the desk for me," Fou said glumly. "See 'ya."

Allen suddenly felt very alone.

"Uhm, Marie, you want to go over some damage control with the press before the conference? I want to also see if we can get a roadblock and searches up on the islands and the city, as soon as possible," She asked. "He's transporting bodies 50 miles from the coast somehow."

"Thank," Allen almost didn't hear the voice, "Thank you!"

He smiled when he recognized her. She was a bit unkempt, with flyaways and scattered papers in her arms. But the last rays of sunlight lit up her eyes, and seemed to surround her with a warm glow.

"I should be thanking you for spending all night processing everything. I hope you managed to sleep," Allen said.

"It wasn't trouble! I like this sort of thing. I'm Miranda," she said, and he noticed the slight coffee stains on her otherwise perfect teeth.

He introduced himself, and she shook his hand with a small smile.

"You seem to already know your way around things here," she added.

"Do I? I have no idea what I'm doing, really."

She laughed at this, a small tinkling of bells, and covered her mouth with her hand. He noticed the band on her finger.

"Oh, this? Marie proposed to me a month ago. Everyone at the station is invited to the wedding, provided they aren't working. It's hard for Marie and I to even find a day we're both off!"

She glanced over at Marie with so much love in her eyes that Allen almost felt a little left out.

The man was running his fingers across a report, and then nodding as Lenalee talked a mile a minute. He stopped what he was doing and smiled in their direction. Miranda seemed to melt.

"He's blind," Allen said aloud. His eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that out-"

"Don't worry, it's everyone's reaction," Miranda replied softly. "He can't do field work much anymore, but we'd all be lost without him."

"Must have a lot of dedication to keep working with the Garda after losing his sight," Nea said.

"Oh, I've kept you too long with all my rambling!"

"No, it was nice talking with you."

"You too."

She scuttled back into the depths of the station, much like most of the room. Allen wondered up to the wooden table in front of the whiteboard, with a couple neatly stacked envelopes placed on top. The first envelope said "Wisely/Krory", and he flipped through them until reaching the one with "Lavi/Allen" on the back.

However, before he opened it, he noticed a stray file with the name "Timothy Hearst". He opened it and quietly read the profile.

Timothy had brown eyes.

He forced himself to close the file.

"So the angel we talked to on the bridge with green eyes," Nea stopped and made a slicing motion over his throat.

Allen tried not to think about it.

He opened the file meant for Lavi and him; it had about ten different leads typed up and printed out inside, with the caller's ID and location listed. He looked at the stack of folders, and then back to Marie.

"She wasn't kidding when she said they'd be lost without him," Nea muttered. "This must've taken hours."

Allen didn't know the protocol for checking out tips from the hotline: what to ask, when to ask, or even how to get there. He didn't even have a phone to call a taxi.

"Damn it, Lavi."

"You're right on the mark with that," Lenalee said.

He jumped, not realizing she was behind him.

"Let me see if anyone wants to take you with them," she added, scanning the room.

"Oh, I can handle it," Allen lied.

"Nonsense, everyone needs a partner!" She said with a reassuring smile.

The sunset haunting the room only illuminated half her face, and he could see the weariness beneath her radiance.

"Picked last for kickball again, Allen?" Tyki called out, noticing him awkwardly standing with Lenalee.

"We'll take him, Miss Lena-Lady. Kanda's been begging for extra work."

"What was that?"

Tyki coughed. "Superintendent Lee."

"Sorted! Between the three of you, you should knock these right out. Show Allen the ropes and," she eyed Kanda entering the room, "no fighting, right?"

"Of course not, ma'am," Tyki said with a grin.