Waves crashed against the rock cliffs of the island in a foaming white ring, soaking the cliffs in a permanent coffee-brown stain. Dark clouds showered the island, the rainwater pouring over the rim of the lighthouse roof in a torrent. Mooro Island, an uninhabited island less than a kilometre from the Spaininerish City of Salamander, was so tiny that you could walk the perimeter in less than half an hour. If you didn't slip on the drenched, craggy rocks and fall to your death of course.

Jack Savage, a white rabbit clad in warm clothes several shades darker than the sky, wordlessly thanked the clouds for escalating no further than heavy rain. The success of their mission depended on a calm sea. At any moment, a boat was due to appear, and drop off a cargo of stolen intelligence on the island. A storm in these waters would have not only forced them to turn back but wasted a lot of ZIA time and money, not to mention costing the lives of two good agents.

Standing at the top of the lighthouse, the only building on the island, Jack scanned the horizon through his binoculars. No sign of the boat yet. He walked around the lightroom to the other side, facing the mainland and checked again. Then he looked down to the small inlet in the side of the island where his partner had taken the boat. He couldn't see the boat. His partner probably just hid it too well, but he touched his headset just in case.

"Winters, are you still with the boat?"

"Negative. I've secured the boat and I'm on my way up."

Jack heard a sound through the pattering rain and turned around. Two seconds later Veronica Winters appeared at the top of the steps, dressed in similar clothing to Jack, her piebald wool slick with unabsorbed water.

"Any sign of them?" She asked. Jack shook his head. "I'll search the other side, then."

She brushed off the excess water with a dismissive flick and strode to the opposite side of the lighthouse.

Getting Veronica Winters, recently transferred from the ZIA's Science and Technology Branch, had been a stroke of good fortune. The ZI6 had their Red Queen in Cheryl Radames, the ZIA had their Ice King in Jack. And now they had an Ice Queen in Winters. They even shared the same white colour and crystal blue eyes. Winters hid her blue eyes behind amber contacts, the only decoration on her person. Getting to know her over the past year, Jack thought the Ice Queen epithet wasn't entirely accurate. She was tough. She was lacking in humour. She put getting the job done over making nice. All that was true. But she had a heart, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

"Still no word from HQ?" She had her own binoculars out, scanning the ocean as she asked this. If Jack had received word, he would have told her immediately. He thought it odd that she would ask a question she already knew the answer to.

"Not yet."

"Hmmm…"

Jack lowered his binoculars and frowned at her. Her tone was not as cool as it should have been. "Something on your mind?"

Winters did not copy his action. "Savage, something's not right. Do you have your weapon?"

"Of course, I do." Jack had his sniper rifle lying by his feet, just in case they were spotted by the wrong mammals. Winters had a pistol in its holster and a machine gun by her side. He looked around the island for whatever had put his partner on edge, but he saw nothing but rock and water.

"We should have all the facts by now. At the very least, we should know what intelligence they've stolen. But all we have is some anonymous tip."

"We know the intelligence includes the whereabouts of Theodore Swinton." Jack pointed out.

Theodore Swinton, the father of the late Tilda Swinton, who had passed away two years ago from natural causes. Until the Red Queen claimed otherwise. The mere possibility that he was still alive and plotting against the government had been enough for the head sheds to follow up on the tip.

"No, we don't know that." Winters said. "Not until we see this intelligence for ourselves."

Jack had no counter for that. "Miss Morton seemed sure it wasn't bull. She wouldn't have sent me otherwise. Actually, she sent me to make sure we get answers."

"Answers."

"I've taken enough direct orders from Morton to know she never makes assumptions. Expect Nothing is practically her motto."

"And now I know where you get it from."

"Hardly. She's better at taking her own advice. The point is, we're here for the truth. And that's it."

Winters seemed to accept that, but she still looked unhappy. "I just think we should have more information by now. Before we left for this rock, I spent weeks trying to track down the source of the tip. But nothing. Only a vague reference to the Twilight Incident you were involved in."

It may be the water in his flat boots, or the tingling sensation in the back of his neck, but Jack was getting impatient. "And why is this only now bothering you?"

"This mission was practically tailor made for you. I don't like it." Winters said no more after that.

Jack continued his own vigil of the sea, watching the rain pound the surface of the water far below. It was almost symbolic of his gut instincts stabbing at the discipline that always kept him focused.

The mammal who'd tipped them off had never specifically asked for Agent Jack Savage to investigate. Then again, to do so would have aroused suspicion. And decades of surfing the internet, tackling religious hypocrisy and working for the ZIA had taught Winters to take everything, even her grandfather's holy texts, with a pinch of salt.

"There." Jack heard her say sharply. He quickly rushed to her side and saw the speck on the grey horizon. He looked through his binoculars and saw a small boat heading straight for the island.

It was time to get down from this lighthouse. To stay up here would get them spotted for sure. They put away their binoculars and started down the spiral staircase. When they'd first reached the island, they'd scouted an alcove in a raised part of the rock formation. They would continue their surveillance there.

They descended carefully. Before the island was abandoned, two lighthouse keepers had died on these stairs. They were too narrow, and occasionally the rain would get in and turn the staircase into a slipping hazard. Today was one such instance.

On their way down, Jack realised why he'd had his own misgivings about the anonymous tip. Thinking about it, it didn't make sense. No-one with common sense would just drop off a cargo of sensitive intel on a deserted island and just leave it there for someone to pick up later. The package could get damaged, stolen, or even swept off the rocks and lost at sea. It was reckless. It was imbecilic. Yet the source claimed that that was exactly what was going to happen.

Jack hoped for his and Winters's sake that the mammals making the drop were just being stupid.

They reached the alcove, a narrow space formed by centuries of water erosion, and climbed inside with their binoculars and weapons. Behind them, the alcove continued on until it ended at a smaller hole on the other side of the rock. A convenient emergency exit if things went south. It was an uncomfortable position to be in. Above them, water dripped onto their already drenched bodies. Beneath them, the hard, ragged floor dug into the flesh of their stomachs and legs as they both had to lie down to avoid being seen. Jack hadn't been so uncomfortable since the night he was poisoned and almost killed by artificial anaphylaxis. Beside him, Winters looked just as miserable. This intel had better be worth it.

The boat arrived soon after, a blue and white fishing vessel with stopped some distance from the island. Jack and Winters watched through their binoculars as three mammals approached the island on an inflatable dinghy. Two of the mammals stepped onto the island, carrying between them a green military crate. The mammals, two oxen and a yak staying with the dinghy, were dressed in bright yellow anoraks. Jack couldn't see any insignias. They wandered further inland, watching themselves on the slick rocks, and set the crate down on a flat boulder.

Like an offering. Like bait. Without any physical evidence, Jack knew.

He turned around in the small wet space. A hoof, fixed to a thick muscled arm of grey fur, was in the process of aiming a tranquiliser pistol in their direction.

Jack fired three times, the armour piercing bullets punching bloody holes in the arm. The bovine the arm was attached to hollered and retreated. By then Winters had also realised it was a trap and was unleashing suppressing fire on the mammals who had brought the crate ashore.

"I'll cover you!" She ducked down to avoid the retaliating fire and ejected the spent magazine to reload another.

Jack slid his body down the hole and took cover to the side. He didn't see the attempted shooter or anyone else through the small opening.

Instead, a black and yellow object was tossed through the hole by a mammal unseen. It was a grenade. Winters was the first to realise it.

"Fuck!"

She threw herself out the larger opening. Jack was a second too late.

The world disappeared in a blaze of white; not fire, but a white gas that engulfed the alcove in an instant. Jack realised it was tear gas as soon as it hit his eyes and entered his lungs. It all burned like fire. Jack blinked, trying to see, but it was no good. He could feel his tears dripping from his chin like the rain. He coughed violently, his lungs expelling the gas but helpless to stop it from being breathed back in.

A massive paw or hoof grabbed his arm and yanked him out the suffocating cloud. The needle of a dart jabbed his skin, and then the tear gas no longer mattered.

Jack must have been out for a while, given that the effects of the tear gas were little more than a minor sting in his eyes when he woke up. His head hurt as well, but he was already familiar with the aftereffects of a tranquiliser. He blinked and recognised a wooden wall and door right in front of him. He could see again. Good. He was duct taped to a table leg in the middle of a sparse room. Not so good.

Now if he could just figure out where the hell he was and what the hell had happened to Winters.

Her instincts had been right. The tip was a lie. Worse than that, it was a trap. What other reason could there be for a premeditated ambush?

Someone flicked his right ear. Jack briefly clenched his teeth from the sting and turned his head. A buffalo stepped in front of him and got down on one knee, a sneer on his face. Around his arm was a shabby dressing stained red in three places.

"Didn' think we'd catch you this easily." He said. "The tear gas was Frank's idea. When we're done with you, I'm gonna need ta buy 'im a drink."

"Where is my partner?" Jack showed no emotion. He wasn't going to give this punk the satisfaction.

The buffalo leaned closer. His breath stank of whiskey. "I'm doin' the askin' here. Does the name Theodore Swinton mean anything to you?"

Jack glared at the buffalo wordlessly.

"'Course you do, or he wouldn' be paying us to set up this lil' subterfuge. How much does the ZIA know?"

Jack could see no way out of this, but that changed nothing. "You're wasting your drinking time. All my people know are rumours."

His head was yanked back by the ears, and the tip of a knife longer than his leg was pressed under his chin. He still gave nothing away. "What happened to Slothfeld's data disk?"

Jack briefly thought of ZPD Captain- no, Chief- Bogo in that moment. Were all buffalos this resistant to verbal garbage? "We never found it. What else do you want to know?"

The buffalo snorted loudly. His grey eyes narrowed. Jack felt the tip of the knife press a little harder. He felt the inklings of true primal fear, and kept it hidden by biting his tongue. If this was it, at least he would bleed out quickly.

Then the buffalo pulled the knife away. "Screw it."

He grabbed the chair beside the table and sat down. Keeping his eyes on Jack, he stretched out his arm and knocked on the door with his fist. The yak from the dinghy opened the door and poked his head through. "You got 'im to talk already?"

"Nah. This bunny doesn't scare so easily."

The yak noticed the condition Jack was in. "Aren't you gonna wring it out of him?"

"If he was half my size, yeah. But my fists are too big and his body's too little. I'll get Frank to do it when we get back."

"You still gonna kill him for shooting up your arm?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Shit, I hope Frank pulls it off, 'cause the boss is pretty pissed. You know that group he sent after the Anesidora? They got the cargo but they left the vix."

Jack's ears pricked. The vix? Did the yak mean vixen? I wonder… no, the coincidence was too contrived. It couldn't be her.

"I got off the phone with 'em. They lost a lot of guys trying to catch that Arctic bitch, so they cut their losses when she escaped."

Okay, maybe not too contrived. If Jack somehow got out of this, he would have to find her.

The buffalo scoffed and jammed his knife into the table. "Pussies. So much for two birds with one bullet."

The yak nodded. "We should be back at the ship by mornin'. Unless you wanna keep lookin' for his par'ner."

"Forget her. We'll be long gone by the time backup arrives. Go call Frank. Tell 'im to get his tools ready."

The yak left and closed the door, leaving the buffalo to watch Jack like a hawk.

So, Winters had escaped death, too. Of course, she had. As much as she had hated him, she really was just like her cousin. And Alyssa, his old friend from ZI6, had got away too. For two years they'd both searched for the truth of Cheryl Radames's claim that Theodore Swinton was still alive, but Jack never thought that Theodore would find them first.

"What are you laughin' at?" The buffalo demanded.

"My own expense." Jack said.