Cronulla, New South Wales

4 July 1991

The sun was slowly peeking over the distant shore. A cat crawled to the end of a branch of a eucalyptus tree before jumping into an open second-story window, leaving the branch behind him oscillating up and down. He hopped off the window sill, landing on the hardwood floor with a thud, and made his way over to a bed. The cat leapt onto the bed and swatted at the cheek of a sleeping woman.

Shropshire inhaled a deep breath of the cool winter morning air before rolling onto her back and scooting up against the bed's headrest. "Good morning, Waffles," she greeted the cat with a cheerful albeit sleepy tone.

Waffles meowed at her.

"Breakfast time, eh?" Shropshire idly scratched the back of the cat's head.

The cat meowed louder.

"Alright, alright, I'll get you some food". Shropshire twisted and placed her feet on the ground, sitting at the edge of her bed. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and then stood up. Slowly, her legs carried her over to the other side of the room, where she scooped dry kibble into a bowl and set it down.

Waffles rubbed his cheek against Shropshire's shin before sticking his head into the dish.

Shropshire turned back towards her queen-sized bed, noting that the far half was empty. "That's strange, Paul is almost never awake this early".

The cat chirruped while crunching away at his food.

"Oh! Maybe he's being extra nice and planning breakfast in bed," she speculated. "That's what he did last time he was awake before me. Though that was several months ago and for Valentine's day. Maybe he just woke up early. What do you think, Waffles?"

Waffles continued to munch his kibble. If he were capable of understanding what his owner was talking about, he still wouldn't be paying attention.

"Waiiit," Shropshire mumbled as she examined the wall calendar at the back of her bedroom door. "It's my 63rd launch date anniversary~" she happily sang to herself. "He probably got up early for some sort of surprise. Breakfast in bed is not off the table. Maybe I should crawl back into bed and pretend to be asleep… What do you think, Waffles?"

Waffles finished his food. He leapt back onto the bed, coiling into a circle over where Shropshire laid in bed just a few moments ago.

"...Or I could let you get some sleep and just head downstairs. Breakfast at the table is better anyway. You don't get itchy little toast crumbs all over". Shropshire gently lifted a blanket and laid it over Waffles' back. "Sweet dreams, kitty".

After quickly throwing on some clothes, Shropshire made her way out of her room and down the stairs. About halfway down, she overheard the clatter of a keyboard and noted a distinct lack of breakfast smell.

To the left of the staircase was her living room. It was divided in half by a futon that faced the front of her house. The front wall was also where the television sat. The back half of the living room was decorated with several bookshelves and had a desk against the back wall of her house. London was at the home computer, working on some project that seemed incomprehensible to Shropshire.

"Good morning!" Shropshire greeted her sister.

"Good morning," London replied, swiveling around in her chair. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Whatcha workin' on? It looks more colorful than usual".

"I finally got around to learning from the Visual Basic manual I picked up".

"Oh right, yesterday you said you were going to do something like that but then you got into an argument with Paul about which direction you're supposed to hang toilet paper".

London shot Shropshire a confused look. "I don't remember that happening".

Shropshire shrugged. "I swear that happened. Maybe I dreamt it. Speaking of Paul, have you seen him?"

"I haven't, but he slid an envelope for you under the front door and a note to read it A.S.A.P. I put it on the dining room table ".

"So he left before you woke up," Shropshire concluded. "It's strange enough that he was awake before me, but before you…"

"Maybe he just stayed up all night," London offered. "Your husband is a strange man, maybe he drove out to Melbourne to get you some of that local beer you really liked. You never know with him".

"But that's a nine-hour drive, and if he stayed up he has to sleep at some point. He wouldn't be back until tomorrow!"

"Yeah, probably sometime early tomorrow so he can catch up on sleep before we go out for dinner".

"We're going out tomorrow?" Shropshire's face scrunched with bewilderment.

"Yes, for your launch day," London dryly explained. "Did we not tell you yet?"

"You told me, but isn't my launch day today?"

"No, it's tomorrow. Sussex isn't even here yet".

"I swear we picked her up yesterday".

"We didn't".

"Huh. I must've gotten so excited that I dreamed today happened already".

"Makes sense, you do that every time we plan on going to the reptile park".

"Hey!" Shropshire barked back. "It's not my fault they have so many cute little snakes".

London chuckled slightly.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Anyway, maybe the note says something about when he'll be back. You should read it".

"That's a good idea". Shropshire turned around and made her way out to the dining room. The only thing separating the dining room from the rest of the house was a rug running from the stairway to the front door.

On the corner of the small, square dining table was a letter. There were no addresses on the letter, just a label reading "TO MY WIFE" on the front side.

Shropshire picked it up and brought it up to her eye level. She turned back around to London. "Before you open it, do you want to guess what it says?"

London pondered for a moment. "Given how many possible things he could be doing if he left last night and has yet to return, it's practically impossible for me to rule anything out. To avoid decision paralysis, I'll go with my Melbourne beer hypothetical from before".

"Good reasoning. My gut is telling me he should be bringing back breakfast".

"By your gut, do you mean your heart or your stomach?" London joked.

"A little bit of both". Shropshire tore the side of the letter open and pulled out the folded sheet of notebook paper inside. She unfolded it and brought it up to her eye level, twisting her back to the front wall of the house so the morning sunlight can help her see the faint pencil marks.

All joy and color drained from her face.

After watching her sister's shocked expression for a moment, London spoke up. "What does it say?"

"It says he cheated on me," she started plainly. "He says he felt bad, thought that I deserved better than him, and ran off".

Silence permeated the room.

"It also says don't bother putting in a missing persons report, he told the police to not come looking for him," Shropshire added monotonously.

"That's… very unlike him," London responded. "I know he can be impulsive sometimes, but I'd never guess he'd be this impulsive".

"I don't believe it either, but this is his handwriting on the paper". Shropshire took a deep breath in. "Maybe it's just a prank".

"I don't think he'd be the kind of person that would joke about this…"

"Well I know he wouldn't cheat on me once and then just drop all contact with both of us! Something's up, I know it".

"Did the letter say it was a one-time thing?"

"Yeah!" Shropshire poked the paper. "Here it says he just met the woman last night and then chose to leave both me and her behind".

London paused, unable to think of a response. She slowly nervously twisted back and forth in her office chair.

Tugging at the hair at the side of her head, Shropshire frantically paced back and forth. "This has to be a joke. He's probably outside, hiding in the bushes to watch my reaction! He's going to get an earful!". She marched over to the front window and yanked the curtain aside. "His truck is still here! Why would he run away but leave the truck?"

"He had to stop by here to drop off the letter, so we know he could've taken the keys if he wanted… Actually, he left for work with his truck last night and then brought it back just to run away without it…" London trailed off.

Shropshire slumped into one of the chairs around the dining room table. "None of this makes sense". Worry seeped into her voice.

London stood up, walking over to her sister. "May I see that letter?"

Shropshire handed it to London. She then laid her forehead on the table, guarding her head with her arms.

Carefully, London folded the letter up and slid it back into the envelope. She collected the scrap of the envelope that Shropshire folded as well, and walked into the kitchen with them. "I'm going to take these into the police". London reached into a drawer and pulled out a large zip-lock bag.

"He said he told them to not come after him," Shropshire countered, defeated.

"That's what he wrote. Maybe he's lying". London dropped all the paper into the bag and carefully sealed it. "If he told the police and we went to them, the worst they'll do is tell us they can't help. They can't help if we choose not to go to them regardless of whether he told them to not look for him or not. But if he didn't actually tell the police to not look for him, and we go to them for help, we'd hopefully get some non-zero amount of support," she rambled. "Worst case, we're no worse off, and we have the potential to be better off, so the game theory says we should try to ask the police for help".

Shropshire inhaled deeply and unevenly, forehead still pressed against the tabletop.

"If I leave now, I should be able to drop this off and only be a few minutes late to pick up Sussex. Given the circumstances, I'm sure she'll understand," London hurriedly spoke to herself, heading for the front door.

A small whimper escaped from Shropshire's throat.

London stopped and patted her sister's back. "If I had time, I'd make you a cup of tea before I left. Perhaps, after you take a moment, you should go out and take a walk. A little bit of exercise is good for managing stress".

"...T-thanks for the advice…" Shropshire responded weakly.

"I'll try to be a better emotional support when I get back". The door closed behind her with a thud.

"I'll find you," Shropshire mouthed to herself, fighting back tears.

"Have you seen this man today?" Shropshire was frantically pointing to a picture on the top of a stack of posters she had photocopied at the local office supply store.

"No… I haven't," the woman in front of her responded, confused.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah?"

"Not even someone who kinda sorta looks like him if you squint?"

"Miss, there's a line forming behind you. Are you going to order something?"

Shropshire sighed aloud, her posture deflating. "I guess I'll have a water".

"Just water? No smoothie?"

"Yeah…"

The woman poked a few buttons on the cash register. "That will be thirty cents".

Shropshire glumly fished a two-dollar coin out of her pocket and haphazardly tossed it onto the counter. "Keep the change".

"Water!" another employee called out from behind the counter. He passed it to the cashier, who then passed it to Shropshire.

With the water in tow, Shropshire made her way to an empty booth in the corner of the smoothie place. Normally, this location was bright and inviting to her, but now it just felt dim. She was acutely aware of the sticky spot on the floor she walked over to get to her booth, the torn leather and exposed foam of the booth hastily patched up with duct tape, and the straw wrappers left haphazardly by the previous patrons. Using her coat sleeve, she brushed crumbs aside before resting her head on the table to hide her emotional state from the public. Her hands pulled a pocket journal out of her coat and flipped through the pages to the most recent entry.

I double-checked the house. You weren't there.

I checked your truck. You weren't there.

I checked the beach. You weren't there.

I checked the food trucks, you weren't there

I checked the state park, you weren't there.

Shropshire clicked her pen, scribbling another line into the journal below the others as her vision blurred.

I checked the smoothie shack. You weren't there.

A tear dropped onto the freshly laid ink, smudging it slightly. Shropshire shakily scribbled in one last note.

This is a cruel joke. Please come back.

She slammed the journal shut and clenched her jaw. All her remaining effort was dedicated to steadying her breathing. This didn't last long, as audible sobs escaped her throat. Not too long after that, she heard someone slide into the booth on the other side of her.

"What's a pretty sheila like you crying like this?"

Shropshire took a deep breath and lifted her head to look at him. "M- My husba-," she tried to answer, but broke down crying, burying her face in her arms again.

"There there, take your time".

"My hu-usband… left… me," she squeaked out.

The man across from her pulled several brown napkins from the dispenser on the table and handed them to her. "You might want some of these".

Shropshire looked up again, hesitantly taking the napkins from his hand. "Thank you". She wiped her face with the wad before resting her head on the table again.

"So he just up and left?"

Letting out a large sigh, Shropshire gathered her thoughts. "He left a note saying he slept with someone else and ran away because he felt guilty".

The man looked at the stack of fliers next to Shropshire. "Is this the bloke?"

"Mh-hm," she confirmed weakly.

"Why'd you wanna find this arse-wipe?"

"He left his truck, and doesn't have the personality to do something like this. I think there is something else going on".

"Ah, I see, typical root-rat behavior".

Shropshire looked up at the man again. "Root-rat?"

"He's just trying to play on your feelings now so you forgive him when he comes crawling back".

"I don't think he's that kind of person".

"You never think they're that kind of person. That's how they play their game. Trust me, I know men pretty well, being a bloke myself".

Shropshire sighed. "Now that you mention that, I think my first husband did something similar…"

"Do you want a repeat?"

"No". Shropshire rubbed her coat sleeve against the side of her face, wiping away residual salt from her tears.

"Well if he thinks he's free to root around like this, why not get some 'revenge'? Give 'im a taste of 'is own medicine".

"I don't think I'm in the headspace to do that".

"How about some self-care first? Go take a walk, vent your feelings to me..."

Shropshire looked at her wristwatch. "I don't have the time for that. I need to meet with my sisters".

The man perked up. "Sisters?"

"Yeah. I've left them waiting for…" Shropshire stared more intently at her wristwatch, "...about an hour and a half".

"An hour and a half?"

"Yeah?"

"If you're that late already, what harm will another couple hours do? They probably aren't expecting you any time soon now".

"But one of my sisters traveled all the way from Europe to see me specifically".

"How long is she stayin' here?"

"Two weeks".

"Aye, you have a whole fortnight to spend with her. Why not take another hour now to get over that rooter faster so you can actually enjoy the time you spend with her?"

Sussex looked at her reflection in the front window as she zoned out at the dining room table. The sun set multiple hours ago, making it hard to see anything out of the window. She was brought back to reality by the clang of a plate on the table in front of her.

"Sorry". London set down a fork, spoon, and napkin next to the plate before speed walking through the archway back into the kitchen. "I wanted to make you something nicer after spending the last two days traveling, but I don't have any more energy". She sat her plate down on the table 90 degrees from Sussex.

"It's fine. I'd hope you don't normally spend afternoons searching for Shropshire and her husband". Sussex prodded the slightly undercooked powdered potatoes in front of her with her fork.

"Do you think I gave a detailed enough description of Shropshire to the police?"

"How many green-haired women are there in the greater Sydney area?"

"Lower bound, one".

"Zero if we go with one of your more pessimistic theories," Sussex snarked.

London didn't respond.

"Well... dark humor aside, I don't think you should worry too much right now. There's not much we can reasonably do at the moment now that it's dark out". Sussex lifted a fork full of green beans to her mouth.

London sighed. "I suppose".

"And you're sure he wouldn't cheat on her? No relationship issues or anything?"

"They normally seem so happy together. I don't know what reason he'd hav-"

The two perked up as they noticed the sound of the front door tumblers moving. The door flew open as Shropshire entered, riding on the back of the man she met at the smoothie place.

"You're back!" London exclaimed with relief.

"Yez I am," Shropshire slurred.

"Where the hell were you?" Sussex badgered after noticing a strong scent of alcohol.

"I waz lookin' for Paul, buuut then this fella told me that the roo'er is mani- manipull- ma-nip-you-laten' me an' we're gettin' revenge".

"No we aren't," the man from the smoothie place walked over to the futon sitting in front of the television and dropped off Shropshire. "Your sister is fucking crazy".

"Who are you and where did you find my sister?" Sussex asked.

"Not important and I tried picking her up on the rebound at some smoothie place".

"Yer aksent is diffren," Shropshire slurred.

"Was this your doing?" Sussex drilled.

"I took her to the bar, she was the one that decided to max out my tab. I'm surprised she's only this fucked up after drinking that much. She's crazy, even by my standards". The man walked out of the front door, closing it behind him.

London stood up and approached Shropshire. "You should probably drink some water and go get some rest," she suggested. "At least you didn't do something too stupid".

"To be fair, your speculation set the bar kinda high," Sussex snarked to London.

"Don' worry, ah still have the rest of the night to dissssapoint you". Shropshire burped.

Sussex turned back to London. "Aaand that's 50% of your missing person cases resolved in one day. Those detective novels trained you well".

"Hopefully this doesn't become a case of alcohol poisoning..."

A/N: Just as a heads up: This work was originally meant as a prequel to another work I'm working on based on the Second Korean War campaign in Wargame: Red Dragon. I was intending on starting that one first and having this one explain the alternate timeline where the USSR doesn't collapse and the cold war drags on into the 21st century. Without going into too much detail, I eventually decided to finish and publish this one first. Just be aware that after the first act there will be a few background events that are written through the lens of this being a supporting story to a work that will be published later.