Total Drama: Nights at the Hazy Museum

by Day by Dawn

After an encounter with Seema, a witch that seemingly attacked her daughter Shari, Sarika must make a deal with her in order to pay back what has happened to Seema's daughter Shreya. The idea of hosting a Total Drama season at the Esterhazy Museum of London was the first idea that came to mind, but will it prevail now that Seema is there? [Episode 2.4: The Case's Trial]

13. Episode 2-3: A Cold Case Reopened

Warning - Please proceed with caution in reading this chapter as it will contain the following:

• Violence & assault (throughout entire chapter)

• Suggestive/explicit themes (heavy warning)

*Normally I put the setting per scene in italics. However, they will now also be in bold. Do look out for scenes that I will mark with a warning. Immediately skip to the next scene if you do not wish to read the scene with the warning.

• All scenes marked with a HEAVY WARNING are SKIPPABLE.

---

Hey everyone! How was your week? I hope everyone is doing alright and is safe wherever you are in the globe!

So here we are with a rather big chapter. I actually want to avoid making chapters that are really long and want to keep them around 10k, but this and the next chapter were a bit impossible to split up. XD

This also has some pretty controversial scenes (as listed above with all the warnings) and is much darker and intense than the previous chapter, so again please read at your own risk!

I'll see you all at the bottom!

Disclaimer #1: Total Drama does not belong to me. The characters seen in this episode belong to their owners.

Disclaimer #2: A few scenes in this chapter are pretty… heavy. I have already asked permission from the creators of the OCs involved. Some are okay with it while others have been toned down/edited out completely, but again, just to make sure, I made them as subtle as possible.

---

Episode 2.3: A Cold Case Reopened

Basingstoke, England, Present Day - 10:45 am

The morning sun streamed gently through the overgrown branches, casting dappled light onto the backyard where Grace worked diligently on Shreya. Callista sat nearby, fidgeting anxiously while Ingrid leaned against a tree, watching silently. Derek paced back and forth, stealing occasional glances at Shreya.

Suddenly, Shreya stirred, her fingers twitching faintly before her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked, disoriented, as her breathing quickened.

"She's awake!" Callista exclaimed, jumping up and rushing to her side. Derek and Ingrid immediately followed, crowding around Shreya as Grace knelt beside her.

"Shreya!" Callista said, her voice both relieved and desperate. "Are you okay? How are you feeling? Can you remember anything now?"

Shreya looked around, her eyes wide with confusion. Her voice was weak as she answered, "I… I don't know. I just remember you, Callista. You… you helped me when I was in the water. And we came to this place." She frowned, clearly struggling to piece together her fragmented thoughts. "But everything else… it's blank. I don't know who I am, where I came from, or why this is happening to me."

Callista's shoulders slumped, disappointment etched on her face. Derek sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, while Ingrid tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but her eyes intense.

"So, we're back to square one," Derek muttered, the frustration in his voice barely concealed.

Grace stepped in, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the frantic energy around her. "It's okay," she said softly. "Amnesia can take time to heal, especially if it's caused by trauma. But this is beyond what I can handle here."

"What do you mean?" Callista asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Grace hesitated for a moment, glancing at her father's house before speaking. "You need to take her to a proper hospital. The closest one with the facilities you need is in Southampton. It's a larger city, and they'll have specialists who can help her—neurologists, psychologists, people trained for this kind of thing."

Derek nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. "Southampton's about a half-hour drive from here, give or take. I can get us there in my car."

Callista turned to Grace, her voice shaky. "Are you sure there's nothing else you can do here? She's been through so much already. I don't want to overwhelm her."

Grace placed a reassuring hand on Callista's shoulder. "I understand, but this is the best chance she has. She needs scans, tests—things I can't provide here."

Ingrid finally spoke, her voice low and measured. "Then we shouldn't waste time. She's awake now, but who knows how long she'll stay stable like this."

Callista bit her lip, glancing down at Shreya, who looked up at her with tired eyes. "What do you think, Shreya? Are you up for it?"

Shreya nodded weakly. "If it'll help me remember... I'll go."

Grace smiled softly. "Good. I'll pack up a few things in case you need supplies on the way."

Derek turned toward the house. "I'll get the car ready."

As the group began to prepare for the trip, Callista turned to Grace, her eyes wide with pleading. "Grace, please… come with us. You've been kind, and you know more about what's going on with her than any of us. I don't know how I'll handle this without your help."

Grace's expression softened, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Callista. I can't. My father needs me here. He may seem grumpy, but he's been through a lot, and I'm the only one keeping him steady."

"But you could make such a difference," Callista insisted. "Please, Grace."

Grace placed a hand on Callista's shoulder, her expression tinged with regret. "I wish I could, but I can't leave him. He's still struggling with everything that happened, and I'm all he has left. I'm sorry."

Callista's shoulders slumped, but she nodded, understanding the weight of Grace's decision. "Thank you… for everything you've done so far," she whispered.

Grace smiled softly. "You're welcome. And don't worry, you've got a strong group here. Derek seems reliable, and Ingrid..." She glanced at the quiet gardener, who was staring intently at the sky, her expression inscrutable. "Well, she's... determined."

Derek returned from the car, wiping his hands on his jeans. "We're ready to go when you are."

Grace gave Callista a small bag of supplies. "Here. Some essentials in case she needs anything on the way. And if you ever need advice, you know where to find me."

Callista clutched the bag tightly and gave Grace a grateful nod. The group began to move toward the car, Shreya leaning heavily on Callista as they walked.

As they settled into the vehicle, Callista glanced back one last time, watching Grace stand at the door of her house, her hand resting against the frame. The young woman gave them a small wave, her face shadowed by both sadness and resolve.

Derek started the car, and as they pulled away, Callista whispered under her breath, "We'll make it."

Their destination: Southampton, where they hoped to find answers—and maybe, just maybe, a piece of Shreya's lost past.

---

Hospital, London, Present Day - 12:00 pm

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the hours that seemed to drag on endlessly. By the time lunch arrived, Shari hadn't moved much. She remained propped up in the bed, staring at the ceiling as the smell of food wafted through the hallways. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, too wrapped up in her own tangled thoughts to care about eating.

A knock at the door broke the silence. Without waiting for her response, the door opened slightly, and Eszter peeked in.

"Lunch has arrived," she said, holding a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a small salad, and a slice of bread. She stepped inside and placed the tray on the table beside Shari's bed.

Shari didn't look at her. "Not hungry," she mumbled, though her stomach betrayed her with another audible growl.

Eszter raised an eyebrow. "Your stomach says otherwise. You need to eat to heal. I won't argue with you about this, Shari."

With a sigh, Shari reluctantly picked up the spoon and stirred the soup, her appetite battling her stubbornness. Eszter pulled up a chair, sitting beside her once again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eszter asked after a moment of silence.

"No," Shari replied curtly, focusing on her food.

Eszter didn't push. She leaned back in her chair, watching her niece with a thoughtful expression. "You've been through a lot," she said quietly. "But you can't shut everyone out forever. Especially the people who care about you."

Shari stopped stirring the soup and looked up, her gaze sharp. "Is that what he told you to say? Or are you just taking his side now?"

Eszter frowned. "This isn't about sides, Shari. This is about you and how you're going to move forward. Carrying this anger around won't help you heal—physically or emotionally."

Shari rolled her eyes and went back to eating, clearly unwilling to engage.

Eszter sighed, standing up. "I'll give you some space. But don't wait too long to figure out what you want, Shari. Time has a way of slipping away faster than you realize."

She left the room, leaving Shari alone once more.

As Shari finished the last of her soup, her thoughts drifted back to Attila. She hated how his presence seemed to linger in her mind, no matter how much she tried to push it away. The look in his eyes, the way he said her name—it felt too raw, too genuine.

She hated it.

She hated that part of her wanted to believe it.

The afternoon sun poured through the window, warming her face as she leaned back against the pillows, her thoughts an endless storm she couldn't escape.

Shari was staring blankly out the window when the door creaked open again. She expected it to be Eszter returning with more advice she didn't want to hear, but her body stiffened when she saw who it was.

Attila stepped inside hesitantly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jacket. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it feel smaller, more suffocating.

"Hi," he said softly, his voice rough but careful, as though afraid to break the fragile silence.

Shari glared at him, her jaw tightening. "What do you want?"

Attila exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You can leave now."

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for a trace of something—anything. "Shari, I—"

"Don't," she cut him off, her voice rising. "Don't pretend you care now. You had your chance, and you blew it. So, just go."

Attila froze, his face a mixture of pain and regret. "I know I don't deserve anything from you," he said quietly. "But I care. I've always cared."

Shari let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, really? Is that why you left us? Because you 'cared' so much?"

"Shari, it's not that simple—"

"Don't you dare say that!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "You left! You didn't even try to stay! Mom worked herself to the bone because of you. I had to watch her struggle every single day while you—what? Ran off to live your life? How is that not simple?"

Attila's face fell, and he lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze. "You're right," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was selfish. I made mistakes I can't take back. But I never stopped thinking about you, about your mother. I know that doesn't fix anything, but it's the truth."

Shari clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to feel anything for him.

"You don't get to waltz back in and expect everything to be okay," she said, her voice breaking. "You don't get to be my dad now."

"I'm not asking for that," Attila said, finally looking at her again. His eyes were red, his expression raw. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I just want a chance to try—to make things right, even if it's too late for us."

Shari stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to leave and never come back. But the look in his eyes—the pain, the guilt—it chipped away at her resolve.

"Why now?" she asked, her voice quieter but no less sharp. "Why bother coming back after all this time?"

Attila hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides. "Because I couldn't stay away any longer," he said finally. "I kept telling myself you were better off without me, but I was wrong. I've been wrong about so much."

Shari didn't know what to say. Her emotions were a tangled mess, and she hated how much his words affected her.

"Just go," she muttered, turning her face away.

Attila lingered for a moment, his gaze heavy with unspoken words. "I'll give you all the space you need," he said softly. "But I'm not going anywhere, Shari. I'll be here when you're ready."

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Shari alone once more. This time, though, the silence felt different. Heavy and suffocating, yet laced with a faint sliver of something else.

Hope?

She didn't know. And that uncertainty scared her more than anything.

---

Scotland Yard (Entrance), Year 1960 - Team Midnight, Team Emerald - 1:00 am

As the group exited Scotland Yard, the evening air felt heavy with the weight of their situation. The guard at the door called out to Carmine, addressing her formally.

"Attorney McGregor, you've got the entire evening before the trial begins. This is an urgent matter we are attending to and there will be no time to wait until tomorrow. Use it wisely," he said, tipping his cap.

Carmine barely acknowledged him, her jaw tightening as the group moved further into the courtyard.

Once they were a safe distance away, Ian blurted out, "Wait, am I hearing this right? Attorney McGregor? Carmine's defending them?" his gaze was set on Carmine as if she committed a grave crime. "You?"

Caren folded her arms, raising an eyebrow as she eyed the attorney's pin on Carmine's lapel. "You're not even a lawyer."

"Brilliant observation, detective," Carmine snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This was Humbert's brilliant idea." She shot him a sharp look. "Isn't that right, Mr. Legal Assistant?"

Humbert raised his hands defensively. "Hey, it's not like we have a whole lineup of legal professionals waiting to help us. You've got the smarts and the guts, Carmine. Besides, you look the part!"

Carmine let out a groan, muttering something under her breath before shaking her head. "This is insane. Absolutely insane. But... he's not wrong. There's no other choice. If we don't try, Zuni and the others are done for."

Claudia nodded, her expression thoughtful. "The stars align in chaos, yet they whisper solutions in the void. Perhaps this madness is what we need."

"Okay, fine," Caren said, looking between them. "But we can't just leave it all up to Carmine and Humbert. We need a plan."

Capone crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "We split up and investigate. That's the only way to cover ground."

Carmine straightened her blazer and looked at Humbert. "We'll need legal documents, precedents, anything that could give us an edge. Alcott's law firm is our best bet. We got his ID in the car we took and there's an address on it."

Claudia tilted her head, her poetic tone softening slightly. "I'll come with you. Words flow differently when penned by the inspired."

Humbert gave the painter a thumbs-up. "Alright, Team Lawyer is set!"

Capone nodded. "Then Caren, Ian, and I will head back to the ballroom. We'll investigate—see what we can find—if we can avoid Interpol and the police."

Ian scratched his head. "And what are we even looking for? Clues? Breadcrumbs? Secret passageways?"

"Anything," Capone said sharply. "Anything that proves Team Burgundy's innocence, points to Lady Vivienne's real killer, or gives us leverage."

Carmine glanced at Evan, who looked dazed and pale from his earlier ordeal. Setsuna rested a hand on his shoulder and looked at Carmine with calm determination.

"I'll stay here with Evan," she said. "He's still recovering, and someone needs to keep Team Burgundy informed. If anything changes, I'll let you know."

Carmine nodded, her gaze hardening. "Good. Then we're all set. Move fast, stay sharp, and keep in touch. We'll meet up back here if anything goes wrong."

Without another word, the group split into their assigned teams, each heading off into the night, their tasks clear and the weight of their mission heavier than ever.

---

Scotland Yard (Visiting Room) - Team Midnight, Team Burgundy

As Setsuna and Evan sat in the waiting area, Setsuna approached the guard to request another visit with Zuni. The guard checked a clipboard and nodded. "Miss Flores is available now. She's finished with her questioning."

They were escorted to the visiting room, and Zuni was already seated on the other side of the glass. Her calm demeanor cracked as she saw the two of them. She picked up the receiver immediately.

"Evan! What happened to you?" Zuni's voice carried concern as she noticed his pale complexion and slightly disoriented gaze.

Setsuna spoke first, her tone reassuring but firm. "It's a long story, Zuni. But he's okay now. What's more important is the plan we've put together."

Zuni frowned, glancing between them. "Plan? What plan?"

Setsuna leaned closer to the glass. "Carmine and Humbert are going to defend you and the rest of Team Burgundy in court. Team Midnight will handle gathering evidence to prove your innocence."

Zuni froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Carmine and Humbert? Carmine's not a lawyer, and Humbert…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "How did this even happen? Are they really going to go through with it?"

"They have no choice," Setsuna said bluntly. "Humbert thought of it, and Carmine agreed. They've already headed to a law firm to find more information and support."

Zuni let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching the edge of the table. "That's… That's a lot of pressure on them. I don't know if—"

"You don't need to worry about them," Setsuna interrupted. Her tone softened. "Team Midnight has this under control. We're splitting up to gather all the evidence we need to clear your name and everyone else's."

Zuni still looked uncertain but nodded slowly. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Tell the rest of Team Burgundy about the plan," Setsuna instructed. "And get ready for the trial. Most importantly, you all need to talk about everything you saw that night. Be honest and thorough. No doubts, no lies. If you're called to testify, you need to be prepared."

Zuni straightened slightly, determination flickering in her eyes. "All right. I'll make it happen. I'll tell them everything."

Setsuna smiled faintly, satisfied with her response. But before they could continue, the guard knocked on the glass and motioned that their time was up.

Zuni rose from her seat. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

Setsuna nodded as Zuni walked out of sight. She turned to Evan, ready to leave. But her breath hitched when she realized the seat beside her was empty.

"Evan?" she called, her voice edged with alarm as she scanned the room.

He was gone.

---

Scotland Yard (Holding Cells) - Team Burgundy

As Zuni walked back to her cell under the watchful eyes of the guards, her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched a folded piece of paper she had managed to scribble on during the visit. Zuni had quickly and secretly jotted down the crucial points from the information Setsuna had brought:

1. Carmine and Humbert are defending us.

2. Team Midnight is gathering evidence.

3. Tell the truth and ONLY THE TRUTH during your testimony.

Approaching the shared cell of AJ, Ashe, Declan, and Naila, she subtly glanced at the guards, making sure they weren't paying attention. Then, with a quick motion, she slipped the paper through the bars before continuing to her own cell.

AJ spotted the paper first. "What's this?" he whispered, crouching to pick it up.

Naila leaned over his shoulder as he unfolded it. "Looks like Zuni's handwriting," she noted softly.

Declan frowned. "What's she trying to tell us?"

Ashe peered at the words, muttering as he read them aloud. "Carmine and Humbert are defending us? That can't be right."

AJ's brow furrowed. "No, it makes sense. I mean, Carmine has the guts to pull it off, and Humbert—well, he's got… rocks."

Naila smiled faintly despite the situation. "And Team Midnight is helping us. That's good news! We're not completely alone in this."

Declan scratched his head. "But this part… 'Tell the truth and only the truth'? What are they expecting us to say? I don't even know how this will help."

Ashe's expression hardened. "It means no lying. If we stick to what we know and don't make things worse for ourselves, we might have a chance."

AJ nodded. "Yeah. They're risking a lot to defend us, especially if Carmine's leading this. The least we can do is be honest."

Naila reached out and touched the paper lightly. "They're doing this because they believe in us!"

AJ folded the paper again, turning to the bars of the next cell. "Blair!" he called softly, holding the paper through the bars.

Blair, pacing restlessly in her separate cell, turned toward them, her eyes widening with a flicker of hope. "What is it?"

"Here," AJ said, gesturing with the note. "It's from Zuni. Read it."

Blair immediately stepped closer and snatched the paper. She scanned the contents, her expression unreadable at first. Then she exhaled sharply, a mixture of fear and determination.

"Let's do it," she said, crumpling the note slightly in her hand so the guards won't see it. "We'll tell the truth. But this whole thing is ridiculous."

"It's all we've got," Ashe replied. "Let's not screw it up."

The entire team shared a solemn nod, the weight of the trial and the uncertainty of their fate hanging heavily in the air. They each silently vowed to do their part, knowing the stakes had never been higher.

---

Gilded Rose Ballroom - Team Midnight

The taxi came to a quiet stop a block away from the Gilded Rose Ballroom. Capone, Caren, and Ian stepped out, glancing at the eerily silent venue ahead. The once vibrant and luxurious gala setting was now shrouded in tension, with the occasional glimmer of flashlights through the windows and distant murmur of voices indicating the continued presence of law enforcement and investigators.

Capone dramatically adjusted his coat and straightened his tie, exuding a calm confidence despite the dangerous task ahead. "We move quickly and quietly. Stick to the shadows and keep your heads down."

Ian fidgeted nervously, his usual cheer dampened by the gravity of the situation. "Do you think they'll shoot us on sight? Or just throw us in jail?"

"Focus, Ian," Caren said sharply, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're here to find evidence to clear Team Burgundy and figure out what really happened. No room for mistakes."

The trio slipped into the side alley leading to one of the less-monitored entrances of the ballroom. Capone led the way, carefully testing the door. To their luck, it was unlocked.

"Stay close," he instructed as they entered the darkened space.

The ballroom's grandeur was muted in the dim light. The chandeliers no longer sparkled, the tables were stripped bare, and the air was heavy with silence. The team moved cautiously, avoiding the main hall where the investigators were likely to be.

They began their search in the side corridors, checking for any clue that might point to what truly happened during the chaos. Capone motioned for them to split up slightly, but not far enough to lose sight of each other.

Caren rifled through a nearby sideboard, her sharp eyes scanning for anything out of place. Ian moved toward a curtain, peeking behind it before inspecting the wall for secret compartments or hidden panels. Capone, meanwhile, knelt beside a row of discarded gala programs, flipping through them quickly.

As they worked, Ian whispered, "You think we'll find something they missed? The police and Interpol are all over this place."

"They're looking for evidence to confirm their story," Caren replied. "We're looking for the truth."

Capone stopped suddenly, his gaze falling on a faint scuff mark on the floor near one of the balconies. "Come here," he called softly, beckoning the others over.

"What is it?" Caren asked, kneeling beside him.

"This mark," Capone said, tracing it with his finger. "It's fresh. Someone moved something heavy here recently. Could be the murder weapon or... something else."

Before they could discuss further, they heard voices in the distance. The team froze, exchanging tense glances.

"Police," Caren whispered.

Capone gestured for them to hide. They slipped behind a large decorative screen as the sound of footsteps grew closer. A flashlight beam swept the area, lingering for a moment near the balcony before moving on. The voices faded as the officers moved to another part of the ballroom.

Once the coast was clear, the team resumed their search, moving toward the scuff mark. Capone found a small fragment of something metallic nearby—a broken piece of jewelry or possibly a weapon part. He pocketed it carefully.

As they moved toward another room, Capone suddenly stopped and turned to Caren. His usual smirk was replaced with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

"Caren," he began, his voice low. "If something happens to us... or if one of us doesn't make it out alive, there's something I need to do."

Caren frowned, clearly not expecting this turn. "What are you talking about, Capone? This isn't the time for—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Capone leaned in swiftly, closing the distance between them. His lips pressed against hers in a bold, unexpected move. The warmth and suddenness of it caught her off guard, her breath hitching as her mind raced to process what had just happened. For a fleeting moment, she froze, her body rigid with shock, before her hands instinctively rose to his chest, pushing him back gently.

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and confusion flickering across her face. "Capone, what the hell was that?" she asked, her voice slightly breathless, searching his expression for answers.

"I had to," Capone said simply, a soft smirk returning to his face. "In case we don't get another chance."

Caren glared at him but said nothing, instead turning back toward the task at hand. "You're insufferable."

Ian, who had been peeking out from behind a column, let out a muffled laugh. "I saw that! You two are so dramatic!"

"Focus!" Caren snapped, though her voice carried less bite than usual.

They continued their search, eventually finding a partially hidden storage room near the ballroom. Inside, they discovered a set of documents hastily shoved into a drawer, along with a torn glove that seemed out of place.

"This could be it," Caren murmured, inspecting the papers. "These are seating arrangements, but some names are crossed out. It's like someone changed things last minute."

Ian tilted his head. "Does that mean someone planned for this to happen?"

Capone nodded grimly. "Looks like it. Let's get this back to the others."

As they prepared to leave, they heard footsteps again, this time closer and accompanied by voices. The team exchanged a panicked look.

"We need to move," Capone whispered. "Now."

They slipped out of the room and into the hall, hearts pounding as they navigated back toward the exit, avoiding the police and Interpol at every turn.

As the group darted through the dimly lit corridors of the estate, Capone led the way, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of pursuit. Just as they neared the exit, a flashlight beam swept across the hall, illuminating Ian's face.

"Hey, stop right there!" a police officer barked, his hand already reaching for his radio.

"Run!" Capone hissed, and the group bolted, their footsteps echoing through the narrow hallways.

Ian glanced back, noticing the officer gaining ground. He spotted a steaming coffee pot on a nearby table. Without thinking, he grabbed it, spun around, and hurled the contents toward the officer.

"Sorry!" Ian shouted as the officer yelped in surprise, clutching his scalded arm. Ian didn't wait to see the aftermath, sprinting to catch up with Capone and Caren.

"Nice aim," Caren muttered, glancing at Ian as they rushed through the doors and into the cool night air.

"Desperate times," Ian puffed, struggling to keep up with the others.

Capone led them toward a line of parked cars on the edge of the lot. "We need wheels. Fast."

"Are you kidding me?" Caren snapped. "We just stole one an hour ago, and you want to add another to the list?"

"Yeah, well, we don't exactly have a choice here!" Capone retorted. He scanned the vehicles, zeroing in on a modest sedan. Without hesitation, he pulled his jacket over his elbow and smashed the driver's side window. The glass shattered with a sharp crack, and he reached in to unlock the door.

"Seriously?" Caren deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Capone shot her a quick grin as he opened the door. "Welcome to life on the run."

The sound of shouting in the distance snapped them all to attention. Ian clambered into the back seat as Capone worked to hotwire the car, the engine roaring to life just as police officers spilled out of the building behind them.

"Let's go!" Caren barked, diving into the passenger seat.

Capone slammed his foot on the gas, and the tires screeched as the car peeled out of the lot. The police weren't far behind, their flashing lights cutting through the darkness as they pursued.

"Hold on!" Capone shouted, swerving sharply to avoid a barricade at the main gate. The car fishtailed but steadied as they tore down the narrow street.

"Are you sure you can outrun them?" Ian asked, gripping the door handle.

"Nope," Capone replied casually, his focus razor-sharp. "But I'm sure as hell gonna try."

The chase intensified as the police cars closed the gap, their sirens blaring. Capone veered onto a side street, narrowly avoiding a parked delivery truck. The stolen sedan groaned under the strain, its tires screeching with every sharp turn.

"Whoa!" Ian clumsily tumbled to the other side of the back seat as Capone briskly maneuvered the vehicle.

"Ever thought of holding on?" Capone jeered as he made another sharp turn.

"Any bright ideas?" Caren asked, her knuckles white as she clutched the dashboard.

"Yeah," Capone said, his voice steady. "Lose them."

With that, he sped toward a narrow alley, the walls on either side barely wide enough for the car to fit. The police hesitated, their larger vehicles struggling to maneuver through the tight space, giving the group a precious few seconds to gain some distance.

As they burst out of the alley and onto another street, Ian leaned forward. "I think we're losing them."

"Let's hope so," Capone muttered, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. But even as the flashing lights grew fainter, he knew their reprieve wouldn't last long.

Capone gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he swerved the car through the winding streets, trying to shake off the tailing police officers. Caren's eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, her heart pounding in her chest.

Ian leaned forward from the back seat again, his voice urgent. "Capone, you've got to lose them! They're not letting up!"

"I'm working on it!" Capone snapped, maneuvering the car at high speed, narrowly avoiding traffic. The sound of sirens grew louder, but they were starting to pull further away.

Caren clenched her fists in her lap, her nerves on edge. "We need to make it back to Scotland Yard. We need to get to safety."

"Almost there," Capone muttered, his eyes scanning the streets for any way to throw off their pursuers.

After several more twists and turns, the pursuing sirens grew quieter, the officers losing ground. With a final hard turn, Capone sped down a narrow alleyway, the car screeching as it slid around the corner. The officers, unable to follow, were forced to turn in the opposite direction.

"Got 'em off our tail," Capone said, exhaling in relief.

"We can't stop yet," Ian said, looking over his shoulder, still cautious. "We need to get back before they realize we've lost them."

Capone nodded grimly, speeding down the streets toward Scotland Yard.

When they reached the entrance, the officer guarding the gate stopped them, his face impassive as he stepped forward. Caren's heart skipped a beat. She could feel the tension rise in the car.

"Hold up," the officer said, eyeing them with suspicion.

Caren's breath caught in her throat as she scrambled for an excuse. Her mind raced, trying to recall the details of what they had told the officer earlier. She fumbled for the right words, her voice shaky. "Uh… we were with the lawyer. The one who came in earlier? Attorney McGregor…"

The officer raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. "Are you sure about that?"

Caren's hands twitched in her lap. "Yes! She was just—uh—just finishing up. And we were waiting for her to finish her business."

Capone shot her a sharp glance but said nothing, hoping the officer would let them pass. The officer hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly, apparently satisfied with her explanation.

"Alright. Go on in," he said, stepping back.

The tension in the car lifted as Capone slowly drove the vehicle through the gates, past the officer. Once inside, they let out a collective sigh of relief, though the weight of their situation remained heavy.

"Nice work, Caren," Ian said, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, we're not out of the woods yet," Caren muttered, her thoughts racing.

Capone slammed the car into park. "Let's go. We need to get back inside and figure out our next move."

They all nodded in agreement, bracing themselves for whatever came next as they stepped out of the car, ready to face the next chapter of their mission.

---

? - Team Emerald

The moments ticked by with agonizing slowness. Petra had yet to return, and each second of silence made the tension in the car thicker. Xerxes' normally sharp composure seemed on the verge of cracking as his eyes stayed locked on the building. Mike, seated beside him, could feel the stress radiating off his partner.

"Where is she?" Xerxes muttered under his breath, barely audible. His gloved hand gripped the edge of the seat so tightly that Mike swore he heard the fabric strain.

Mike sighed, glancing at the building. "It's been too long. Something's wrong." He hesitated before continuing, his voice more insistent. "We can't just sit here and wait for Petra. If they've got Angie and Elisia in there, we're wasting time."

Xerxes didn't reply immediately. He clenched his jaw, his gaze faltering for a moment. Petra was more than a falcon to him—she was a trusted companion, one that rarely failed him. Her delay was setting off alarms in his head, but his frustration masked his growing worry.

"She knows what she's doing," Xerxes said finally, though his tone lacked conviction.

Mike shook his head. "Look, Xerxes, I get that Petra's your eyes in there, but right now we need to move. If something's happened to her—or worse, to Angie and Elisia—we can't just stay out here. We have to go in."

Xerxes took a deep breath, visibly grappling with the decision. Finally, he gave a curt nod, his expression hardening. "Fine. But we stick together."

The two exited the car quietly, moving under the cover of darkness toward the building's side entrance. The quiet was unnerving, broken only by the faint sound of their footsteps on the pavement. Xerxes scanned the area with practiced precision, his hand instinctively flexing at his side.

Inside, the air was stale, and the silence was deafening. Every creak of the floorboards beneath their feet felt like a thunderclap. Xerxes led the way, his movements deliberate and careful. Mike followed, his shoulders tense.

"This place is too quiet," Mike whispered. "Doesn't feel right."

"It isn't," Xerxes replied, his voice equally low.

They moved through the first hallway, their eyes darting to every shadow, every flicker of light. The tension between them grew heavier with each passing second.

"We're wasting time covering the same ground," Mike said suddenly. He stopped walking, his voice more insistent. "We should split up. You take the west wing, I'll go east. We'll cover more ground that way."

Xerxes spun on his heel to face him, his sharp glare cutting through the dim light. "No. Splitting up is the worst idea right now. If something happens to you—or to me—who's going to help?"

Mike huffed in frustration, his voice rising slightly. "And if we stick together and miss them because we didn't search fast enough? Think, Xerxes! We don't have time to waste arguing about this."

"Exactly," Xerxes shot back, his tone colder than usual. "If you get cornered or worse, how am I supposed to help you? We stick together, and we stay alive."

Mike threw his hands up in exasperation. "You don't trust me to handle myself, is that it?"

Xerxes stepped closer, his jaw tightening. "This isn't about trust. It's about not losing anyone else tonight."

The two stared at each other for a long moment, tension crackling between them. Finally, Xerxes sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine. But we meet back here in ten minutes—no exceptions. If something goes wrong, you yell. Got it?"

"Loud and clear," Mike muttered, his expression softening slightly. "Let's move."

With that, the two split off in opposite directions, their footsteps fading into the oppressive silence. As Xerxes moved through the west wing, his gloved hand twitched, betraying his nerves. Somewhere deep inside, he couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him—not for Petra, not for Angie or Elisia, but now, for Mike too.

---

? - Team Emerald

Mike stood in the dimly lit hallway, his breath shallow as he surveyed the empty, eerie surroundings. His chest ached—not from exertion, but from the gnawing guilt and worry that had been clawing at him since everything had gone wrong. He pressed his fingers against his temple, his other hand gripping the wall for support. The silence was almost unbearable, broken only by the sounds of his own shoes clicking on the building's floors.

"Angie…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His throat tightened as he thought about her—her strength, her resolve. She's strong, he reminded himself. She can get through this. But doubt lingered, a poisonous whisper in the back of his mind.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, his voice trembling as he muttered, "Elisia… Petra…" The names of his companions slipped through his lips like prayers, desperate and pleading. He shook his head, trying to steel himself. "No. Angie's strong. She always has been."

As if on cue, his eyes caught something on the floor just ahead of him. A single black feather, its edges slightly frayed. He froze, staring at it as his heart began to race. Slowly, he crouched down, picking up the feather between trembling fingers.

"Petra?" he murmured, a flicker of hope igniting amidst the dread. His ears perked at a faint sound—a rustling, weak and uneven. He turned sharply, scanning the hallway for the source. It came again, this time louder, accompanied by the faintest cooing.

Without hesitation, Mike sprinted toward the sound, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pushed open the nearest door, his movements frantic but purposeful.

Inside, his heart sank. There, crumpled in the corner of the dimly lit room, was Petra, Xerxes' loyal falcon. Her usually majestic wings drooped lifelessly, and her sharp, piercing eyes were dull and glazed over. She let out a weak cry as Mike approached, her talons twitching feebly.

"Petra…" he breathed, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands hovered for a moment, unsure of where to touch her without causing more pain. His eyes caught the glint of something around her neck—the necklace Elisia had given, now broken and dangling from her frail body. The sight sent a pang through his chest.

"It's okay," he whispered, his voice cracking as he carefully lifted her into his arms. "I've got you. You're safe now." Her feathers were cold against his skin, and the weight of her injury felt heavier than it should have.

He turned to leave, cradling Petra close, but the moment he stepped back into the hallway, a shadow loomed behind him. The temperature seemed to drop, and an unmistakable sense of dread settled over him.

Slowly, Mike turned around, his body tensing as his eyes met a figure cloaked in black. The same kind of figure they had seen at the gala. The shadowy figure stepped closer, their presence oppressive and menacing.

Mike's grip on Petra tightened instinctively. "Stay back," he warned, his voice firm despite the fear crawling up his spine.

The figure didn't respond, instead lunging forward with surprising speed. Mike barely had time to react, shifting Petra to one arm as he raised the other to block the attack. A gloved hand swiped at him, narrowly missing his face.

The fight was brutal and fast. The figure moved like a predator, their strikes precise and unrelenting. Mike ducked and weaved, his movements fueled by desperation rather than skill. He managed to land a punch to the figure's side, but it barely seemed to faze them.

"Who are you?" Mike demanded between breaths, his voice echoing in the hallway. "What do you want?"

The figure remained silent, their only response a flurry of attacks. One strike caught Mike on the shoulder, sending him staggering back. He grit his teeth, refusing to let Petra fall from his grasp.

With a surge of determination, Mike grabbed a nearby chair and swung it at the figure, forcing them to retreat momentarily. He took the chance to put some distance between them, his breaths ragged.

The figure tilted their head, as if studying him, before raising their hand. From their sleeve, a blade glinted in the dim light. Mike's heart sank, but he stood his ground. "You're not taking her," he growled, his voice resolute.

The figure advanced again, but this time, Mike was ready. He ducked under their swing, slamming his shoulder into them and knocking them off balance. The blade clattered to the ground, skidding across the floor.

Petra let out a weak cry in his arms, spurring him on. He grabbed the blade and pointed it at the figure, his hands shaking but his grip firm. "Get out of here," he demanded, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him.

The figure hesitated for a moment before stepping back, their form melting into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared.

Mike stood there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened. He glanced down at Petra, her weak gaze meeting him.

"It's okay," he whispered again, his voice softer this time. "We'll get through this. I promise."

With that, he turned and hurried down the hallway, determined to find help before it was too late. Strategy can wait, he thought.

---

? - Team Emerald - HEAVY WARNING

Xerxes paced the dimly lit hallway, his steps heavy with worry. He knew something was wrong. Petra, fierce and unyielding, the falcon as he called her, always had her guard up—yet today, something felt different. And Elisia... What if something had happened to her? What if she was in danger and he wasn't there to protect her?

Turning a corner, he stopped dead in his tracks.

A figure cloaked in black stood before him. He froze, instincts on alert. The figure had been waiting for him—he could feel it. There was something unsettling about the way they moved, the way they lingered in the shadows. The faintest silhouette, but still enough to make his heart race.

"Where is Angie? Where is Elisia?" he demanded, his voice quiet but firm, though a knot in his throat twisted with every word. He was no fool. This figure had obviously something to do with their disappearance. They had to.

The figure tilted its head slightly, as though sizing him up, but didn't speak. It moved closer, slow and deliberate, every step accentuating the eerie silence. Then, for the first time, Xerxes saw her—her eyes. A woman. Black garb clinging to her lithe frame, her face hidden beneath a veil, but he could see enough to know. She was not like the other figures.

The woman took a step toward him, eyes glinting in the dim light as she approached. He instinctively took a step back, but she continued moving forward with a confident grace, her posture too fluid to be just a random encounter.

"Where are they?" he repeated, more forcefully this time. His voice is still calm but the edge of concern cuts through.

Her lips curled into a slight smile, and she came within arm's reach, her fingers brushing across his left arm lightly. The touch sent a shock through him, but he refused to show any weakness. Her fingers trailed a little too slowly down his sleeve, just a whisper of contact as if testing his response.

"Don't be so tense," she purred, her voice low and teasing, the words dripping with something darker. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. "You've been so worried, haven't you?"

Xerxes stiffened. There was something unnerving about her proximity, the way her voice was laden with meaning, and yet she said nothing directly threatening. His chest tightened as she drew closer, but he couldn't retreat. Not yet.

"Where. Are. They?" Xerxes gritted out, every muscle in his body tensed for action.

The woman smirked and slowly lifted her hand to his collar, tracing the edge with her fingers, moving down his chest in a way that made him feel more exposed than he had in years, despite wearing double layers of clothing he had on since the gala. Her touch was both soft and deliberate, and though he knew it was meant to unsettle him, it did.

"You don't need them," she whispered, her tone sultry. "They're not here. Why not stay with me?"

Her hand lingered on his chest, moving dangerously lower, but his breath caught in his throat. A part of him wanted to push her away, yet there was a strange hesitation in his chest, not because he didn't want to fight back, but because she was a woman, and he hated himself for thinking it, but that stopped him from being brutal with her. For a moment, he let his mind race, considering her actions, questioning what her intentions were, but she wasn't giving him time to think.

Her hand moved even lower—too low for comfort before brushing him with subtle pressure. The way she moved on him sent his pulse spiking so high that he even found it hard to breathe. But that was it. He couldn't let this go on. She was playing with him, trying to distract him, and Xerxes knew it. He had to stay focused.

His prosthetic arm snapped into action before he could even think, jerking her away with force. She stumbled but regained her composure almost immediately, her grin widening as though she had expected this reaction all along. Xerxes moved swiftly, his fist coming up to block her advance before she could touch him again.

"What's wrong? Can't handle it?" she teased. She wasn't deterred. In an instant, she lunged forward, her hands reaching for him, and this time, they weren't just brushing against his body—they were moving lower, groping and grabbing in a way that was far too invasive for Xerxes to tolerate. His breath hitched with frustration, and he felt his resolve snap.

"STOP!" Xerxes finally shouted, his voice dark with fury. He spun around, using the leverage of his prosthetic arm to shove her back with all his strength. She crashed into a wall, and Xerxes wasted no time. His heart was hammering in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn't know who she was or what she wanted, but he wasn't going to let her manipulate him.

Before she could recover, he dashed past her, the sound of his shoes echoing in the hallway as he ran, fear instantly consuming him. His mind raced—he needed to find Petra, Elisia, Angie, and now Mike—he needed to know they were safe. The sound of his breath was loud in his ears, but he couldn't stop now. Not when there were lives at stake.

The woman didn't chase him. She just watched him go, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she disappeared into the shadows. Xerxes kept running, feeling as though he was being hunted.

---

? - Team Emerald

Mike and Xerxes hurried down the narrow from different directions, their steps quick and urgent. Mike was out of breath, his body sore from the fight he'd just had with the black figure, but there was no time to stop. Petra's condition weighed heavily in his arms; the falcon's small, fragile body was still, but the faint rise and fall of her chest reassured him that she was alive.

As they reached a fork in the hallway, both men skidded to a stop, startled by the sudden appearance of the other. Mike's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Xerxes, his face pale and tight with fear. His body was trembling, his usually calm demeanor shattered.

"Xerxes," Mike called, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. "What's wrong? Why do you look like that?"

Xerxes didn't answer immediately. His eyes were wide, scanning the hallway behind him. Mike noticed the way Xerxes's posture had shifted, alert and frightened, unlike the guy he had known.

"Xerxes, what happened?" Mike repeated, his voice rising slightly with concern.

Xerxes remained silent, his gaze darting between Mike and the darkness of the corridor behind him. His breath was shallow, and he couldn't bring himself to speak, his mind racing with the images of the female black figure. She had been too close. Too threatening. He couldn't get the image of her out of his mind.

Then, in a swift motion, his gaze fell on Petra. Mike was still holding her gently in his arms, and Xerxes froze. His heart seemed to stop. His breath caught in his throat, his hands shaking as he took a slow step forward.

"Petra…" Xerxes whispered, his voice barely audible.

Mike felt a knot twist in his stomach as he watched the shift in Xerxes' expression. The raw emotion in his eyes was almost too much to bear. The fear, the worry—he was on the brink of breaking.

"She's okay," Mike said quickly, his own voice trembling slightly, trying to reassure both of them. "I found her, she's alive. She's just… hurt, but we can help her."

Xerxes closed the distance between them, almost staggering as he reached for Petra. His gloved hands were unsteady, but he gently took the falcon from Mike's arms. The moment he held her, his entire body seemed to deflate, and Mike could see the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"Thank you," Xerxes whispered hoarsely, his voice strained. "I thought… I thought I lost her."

Mike gave him a small, understanding nod, despite his own growing fear. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have pushed for us to split up. I didn't realize it would be this bad."

Xerxes didn't respond right away, his eyes focused entirely on Petra. He carefully adjusted her in his arms, whispering soft reassurances in Greek to the falcon, as though his words could somehow heal her wounds.

"It's not your fault," Xerxes finally said, his voice low but steady. "We had to split up. We didn't know the extent of what was going on. But you saved her."

Mike let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he thought about Angie again, and their mission. "I just… we still haven't found Angie, or Elisia. Where did those damn figures take them? We don't even know where to begin looking."

Xerxes' expression darkened, his grip tightening on Petra as the worry for Elisia suddenly consumed him. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "But we will find them. We can't stop until we do."

Mike nodded, his face set with determination, but a flicker of unease still lingered in his eyes. There was so much they still didn't know, so many unanswered questions. But as long as they had each other, they would keep fighting. They had no other choice.

---

Scotland Yard (Hallway) - Team Midnight - MINOR WARNING

Evan stumbled down the hallway of the station, his face pale and sweat dripping from his brow. Setsuna followed closely, her footsteps light yet filled with urgency.

"Evan!" she called after him, concerned, threading through her voice.

He didn't respond, his hand pressed tightly against his stomach as he pushed open the door to the men's restroom. The sound of it slamming shut echoed down the corridor.

Setsuna reached the door just as she heard him retching inside. She hesitated, her hand hovering near the doorframe. "Evan?" she called softly, her voice gentler now.

The only reply was another bout of violent heaving.

Setsuna clenched her fists, her body tense. She wanted to go in, to help, but the boundary of the restroom stopped her. Instead, she pressed her forehead against the door, closing her eyes.

"It's the drug," she muttered to herself, piecing it together.

Inside, Evan gripped the sink for support, his knees nearly buckling under his weight. He looked up at the mirror, his reflection distorted by his watery eyes. His chest heaved, and another wave of nausea overtook him, sending him back to the toilet.

Outside, Setsuna paced in small circles. Her hands itched to do something—anything. She finally stopped and called out again, her tone firmer. "Evan, let me know if you need me. I'm right here, okay? You're not alone."

The only answer was the sound of the faucet turning on, followed by water splashing.

She sighed, leaning against the wall next to the door. Her gaze drifted to the hallway, but her attention remained attuned to every sound coming from inside. "We'll get through this," she murmured, mostly to herself but also for him. "Whatever they've done to you, we'll find a way to fix it."

The faint sound of him rinsing his mouth was her only solace that he was trying to regain composure. But the silence that followed weighed heavily in the air, leaving Setsuna restless and anxious for what came next.

Evan's footsteps echoed faintly as he pushed open the restroom door. His face was still pale, but his movements were steadier now, though there was an air of urgency to his actions. Without a word, he grabbed Setsuna's hand, his grip tight and desperate.

"Come with me, we're gonna get some evidence," he said, his voice hoarse, tinged with something unsettling. There was no time to explain, just the raw, silent pull of urgency as he led her down the corridor.

Setsuna didn't resist, though confusion flickered across her face. She could see the strain in Evan's features, his disorientation still heavy, but there was something else—something that told her this wasn't over. He needed to show her something.

They ascended the staircase to the second floor of Scotland Yard. The place was eerily quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights their only company as they moved down the hallway. Evan's steps quickened as he approached a door near the end, his breath shallow. He turned the handle and pushed it open, revealing a sterile, dimly lit room.

Setsuna stepped inside with him, her gaze scanning the area. It looked like an interrogation room, but with no furniture save for a metal chair in the center of the space. Evan walked directly to the corner, where the faintest marks were visible on the floor—the remnants of something that had been moved.

And there, still on the ground near the chair, was the syringe.

Evan's voice was almost a whisper as he stared at it in disbelief. "It's still here... I can't believe they left it."

Setsuna's eyes widened, and her throat tightened at the sight of the needle. She moved closer, kneeling down to inspect it. The needle glinted under the harsh overhead light, a stark reminder of what Evan had endured.

"They did this to you," she said, her voice low, heavy with a mix of sorrow and anger. "Someone... injected you with this."

Evan stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the syringe, his body still in shock. He hadn't fully processed the betrayal of it all, the violation of being drugged right under their noses.

Setsuna reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of gloves, carefully picking up the syringe. "I'm going to take this as evidence. We need to know who did this—and why."

Evan nodded, his thoughts still clouded. "I don't remember much. But I know it was one of them. One of the figures from the gala." His fists clenched involuntarily as he spoke.

Setsuna stood, securing the syringe in a small evidence bag. She met Evan's gaze, her expression resolute. "We'll figure this out. Whoever did this will pay for what they've done to you."

Evan let out a breath, still trying to shake off the disorientation. "I don't care about that right now. We need to focus on what they're planning—whoever these people are."

Just then, the door to the room creaked open slightly, and a shadow loomed in the doorway. Setsuna's instincts kicked in, and she turned toward the sound, ready for whatever came next.

The creak of the door sent a ripple of tension through the air. Setsuna instinctively stepped in front of Evan, her stance guarded. The faint outline of two figures in police uniforms stepped into the dimly lit room.

"What are you two doing here?" one officer asked, his tone sharp and suspicious.

Evan straightened, his gaze calculating. "We're here on official business."

The second officer, a man with a cocky smirk, scanned Setsuna up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. "Official business, huh?" His voice took on a mocking edge. "What kind of business requires you to sneak around looking so… pretty?" he added, staring at the plunging neckline that defined her chest.

Evan's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. Setsuna remained calm, though her sharp glare bore into the officer. "You've got about two seconds to stop talking," she said coolly.

The first officer stepped forward, clearly ready to detain them. "You're coming with us—"

Before he could finish, Evan moved. His fist connected with the officer's jaw, sending him stumbling back. Setsuna didn't hesitate. She ducked under the other officer's outstretched arm and delivered a sharp kick to his knee, forcing him to the ground.

The cocky officer grabbed Setsuna's wrist, his grip firm. "Feisty. I like that," he sneered.

"Not in your lifetime," Setsuna snapped, twisting her arm free and delivering a swift elbow to his face. He staggered back, clutching his nose as blood dripped between his fingers.

Evan grabbed the first officer, slamming him against the wall before delivering a knockout punch. He turned to see Setsuna delivering the final blow to her opponent, who collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Setsuna adjusted her dress, brushing off imaginary dust. "Well, that was unnecessary."

Evan smirked. "I don't know. I thought it was therapeutic."

Her lips twitched in a faint smile before her gaze shifted to the unconscious officers. "What now?"

Evan glanced at the uniforms. "We use them."

…

Dressed in the officers' uniforms, Evan and Setsuna moved through the building with a quiet confidence, blending in seamlessly. They reached the main office without incident, though Setsuna cast nervous glances down the empty hallways.

"This is risky," she murmured as Evan crouched to inspect the lock on the office door.

"Risky is all we've got," Evan replied, producing a small tool stashed in his pocket. After a few tense moments, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open.

Evan peeked inside, scanning the room. "No one's here. Let's go."

They slipped inside, closing the door behind them. The office was dimly lit, papers scattered across the desks. Filing cabinets lined the walls, their labels a mix of mundane and ominous titles.

Setsuna sifted through one of the desks while Evan checked the cabinets. After a few moments, he froze, pulling out a file stamped with large red letters: UNRESOLVED. Beneath it, the label read: Case #E-1738.

Setsuna joined him after slipping a pin into her pocket, her brow furrowing. "What is it?"

Evan scanned the pages of the file, his brow furrowing. "It's a case file. It mentions individuals dressed in black, acting in coordination… using drugs on their targets… and assaulting their victims…" His voice grew grim as he read further.

"Please don't even think about finishing that." Setsuna grimaced as she read over his shoulder, her heart sinking. "This… this has to be connected to what happened to you. And whoever's behind this—they're not just after individuals. This feels… bigger."

Evan nodded, his jaw tight. "Bigger than us. But will these lead us to the Golden Ring?"

The name of the organization wasn't mentioned explicitly, but the symbols and vague references gave them a lead. Evan's mind raced as he closed the file. "This is enough to get us started. Let's get out of here."

Setsuna hesitated. "If we take this file, won't they know we were here?"

"They'll figure it out eventually," Evan said, tucking the file under his uniform. "But by then, we'll already be ahead of them." he looked back at the desk. There was a note regarding the trial about the events of the gala. Trial has been moved to 7:00am today. Urgent.

"Well, looks like we've got a few hours left. Let's go." Setsuna said reluctantly, and the two of them slipped out of the office, their mission far from over but a piece of the puzzle firmly in their hands.

---

? - Team Emerald - MINOR WARNING

Angie lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor, groaning softly as waves of pain coursed through her bruised body. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her cheek was swollen from the relentless beatings she had endured. Every shallow breath was a reminder of her battered state. She fought to stay conscious, to push through the pain, and managed to sit up despite the sharp ache in her ribs. With every breath, the burning sensation in her chest reminded her of the cruelty she had suffered.

She scanned the dimly lit room, her eyes adjusting to the faint light cast by a flickering bulb hanging overhead. The walls were bare, the space desolate and unyielding, offering no windows or escape routes. Despite the exhaustion and pain that made it hard to think, Angie's sharp mind kicked into gear. Think, she told herself, What can I use to get out of here?

"Alright, Angie," she muttered under her breath, her voice hoarse but determined. "Focus. You've done worse."

She began searching the room, her trembling hands pushing through the debris. A small, broken portion of her gown, already torn from the earlier assault, snagged as she moved so she tore and kept it in case it would come in handy. An old metal rod caught her eye, half-buried under discarded boxes. She grabbed it, testing its weight—it wasn't much, but it could serve as a weapon or part of a makeshift tool.

As she rummaged further, she found rusted screws, a tangle of wires, and a broken fan blade. Her mind raced, piecing together a plan. If she could rig something together, perhaps she could pry the door open—or at least defend herself long enough to buy time. Her hands worked quickly, despite the pain, fashioning the broken items into something that might work.

Then, the door creaked open. Angie froze, her pulse racing as a figure stepped inside. Black-clad, his face hidden behind a mask, the figure's presence felt like an immediate threat. Her grip tightened around the metal rod, her muscles tensing, ready for whatever came next.

"What do you think you're doing?" the figure demanded, his voice sharp, almost mocking.

Angie glared at him, holding her makeshift invention protectively. "What does it look like? I'm trying to get out of this hellhole."

The figure stepped closer, his boots echoing ominously in the small room. Before Angie could react, he reached out, snatched the invention from her hands, and examined it briefly. With a cruel laugh, he snapped the metal rod in two, sending the pieces clattering to the ground.

"You really thought this would work?" he sneered. "Pathetic."

Rage flared in Angie's chest, the frustration and helplessness fueling her outburst. "You think you can just do whatever you want? Where is Elisia? What have you done to her?"

The figure tilted his head slightly, a mocking gesture. "The boss is taking care of her."

Angie's eyes widened in horror. Her voice trembled as she demanded, "What do you mean by 'taking care of her'?"

The figure remained silent for a long moment, the tension hanging thick in the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with malice, every word deliberate and cold. "Let's just say she won't be a problem for much longer."

Angie's fury boiled over. She lunged forward, swinging the broken rod at him with all her strength, her desperation giving her a burst of energy. But the figure easily sidestepped her attack. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully until she cried out and dropped the weapon.

"You're feisty," he said, his grip tightening around her wrist. "But it won't save you. You're next after your friend."

Angie struggled fiercely, her nails digging into the fabric of his glove, trying to break free. "You don't scare me!" she spat, though her voice trembled with the desperation she tried so hard to hide.

The figure leaned in close, his masked face just inches from hers. "You should be scared," he whispered, his voice cold and final. "But don't worry—it'll all be over soon."

Her mind raced, seeking any opening to escape or outsmart him. She wouldn't give up, not now, not when Elisia was still out there. Her body screamed in protest as he dragged her toward the door, but Angie's determination burned brighter than her pain. She couldn't overpower him, but if she had to, she would use every ounce of cunning she had left.

"Let's see how long that attitude of yours lasts," the figure muttered, his voice laced with smug satisfaction as he pulled her out of the room. The remnants of her shattered invention lay forgotten on the floor behind her, a symbol of her failure—but also of her refusal to give up.

---

? - Team Emerald - HEAVY WARNING

Elisia sat trembling in the dimly lit corner, her body wracked with pain from the earlier assault. She had collapsed into herself, her gown ruined from the violence, torn and stained with evidence of the struggle. The delicate fabric clung to her skin in all the wrong ways, adding to the humiliation. Her heart ached, and the pain from her body mingled with the growing sense of dread in her chest. Unlike Angie, Elisia wasn't strong enough to fight back. She wasn't brave enough to resist. She just wanted to disappear.

She tried to steady her breath, but the sobs came anyway, shaking her frame. Tears blurred her vision, and she could barely think straight, her mind a haze of fear and confusion. As she pressed her hands to her face, trying to stifle the sobs, the door creaked open. A shadow loomed in the doorway, and Elisia's heart skipped a beat.

Another figure in black stepped inside, their movements slow and deliberate. His presence felt suffocating, and Elisia's stomach twisted in dread. She could barely make out his features through the mask, but something in the elegant and graceful way he moved, something in the smoothness of his voice, made her stomach drop further.

The Chancellor?

"Well, well, Miss Saphora. Still struggling, I see," the voice was deep, almost soothing, but it dripped with something darker. The figure stepped closer, his shadow consuming her. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively shrank back, pressing herself against the cold wall behind her.

He crouched down in front of her, and she stiffened as his black-gloved hand reached out, tracing the side of her cheek with a touch so light, it sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers moved, tracing a path down to her bare shoulder and then lower, grazing dangerously on the curve of her chest. His touch was deliberate, slow, and somehow even more unsettling because of its subtlety.

"Such a fragile girl," he murmured, his voice almost affectionate. "Not like the others. Miss Flores, for instance, so fiery. And Miss Yūki—so calculating. But you, Miss Saphora, you're so... delicate."

Elisia's heart raced, panic threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't pull away, couldn't stop him. The touch was invasive, but he didn't seem to care. His finger lingered longer on her chest than it should have, and Elisia's breath caught in her throat.

"I was going to choose Miss Flores, Miss Yūki, or perhaps you for the Chancellor's Waltz," he continued, his tone casual, almost bored. "Or maybe Miss Locayne if she wasn't so… angry." He laughed. "But Miss Yūki already picked Mr. Thorne. And you… well, you're already with Mr. Siska, aren't you?"

Elisia's chest tightened at the mention of Xerxes—her heart sank, the weight of his name crushing her. The Chancellor chuckled mockingly at her change of expression and continued, "So, Miss Flores seemed like the best option. Her partner, Miss Jaziri, was unpredictable compared to the other partners… Miss Flores was the best choice and I do not regret it."

She wanted to scream, to ask him how he knew them, but the words came out more as a desperate whisper, barely audible.

"How… how do you know them? How do you know their names?" Her voice trembled with fear, and her gaze searched his mask for any hint, but she couldn't see past the blackened eyes.

The Chancellor's voice dropped lower, almost soothing, as he leaned closer. "Shh, Miss Saphora," he whispered, a cruel mockery of comfort in his tone. "Don't worry about such things. You're safe here... for now."

Elisia's mind spun, and she tried to process his words, but her thoughts were clouded by fear and confusion. He reached out again, brushing a lock of hair away from her face, his touch lingering, almost possessive.

"Miss Flores should've been here in your place right now," he continued, his voice dripping with a dark amusement. "She was the one who danced with me in the waltz. But she's behind bars now, and that... that is such a shame. I don't regret the choice, though. Not for a second."

Elisia's stomach churned. She was trapped, and there was no way out. She tried to hold it together, but the mention of the others shattered what little resolve she had left.

"Once I'm done with you," the Chancellor murmured, his voice cold and detached, "Miss Locayne will be next." He said Angie's name like it was a promise, a threat, and Elisia could barely find the strength to breathe.

Without warning, the Chancellor's fingers tugged teasingly at the single strap of her gown, pulling it down her shoulder with mock deliberation. He lingered there for a moment, watching her, his eyes unreadable behind the mask. Elisia's breath caught in her throat again as the strap slid down her shoulder.

In a desperate, instinctive move, she grabbed his wrist, her fingers trembling as she tried to push it away. She couldn't let him violate her further. She couldn't let him take away whatever was left of her dignity.

His grip tightened slightly, but then he chuckled softly, almost approvingly. "Oh, my dear... how adorable." He didn't release her, but instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if admiring her defiance. "You can try to stop me, but you know you won't be able to."

Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought the overwhelming wave of terror crashing over her. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to stay silent. He was right—there was nothing she could do. He has all the power, and if she speaks ill of him, no one might believe her. The room felt like it was closing in on her, and all she could do was wait, helpless in the grasp of the man currently controlling her fate.

---

? - Team Emerald

Angie lay on the cold, grimy floor of another dimly lit room, her mind whirring with the same intensity as the dull ache in her ribs. Her breath came shallow, trying to control the pain that coursed through her body, but her thoughts remained focused. She would find a way out—she had to. Not just for her own sake, but for Elisia. And for everyone else who might still be caught in this nightmare.

Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on the sparse furniture. A few old crates, some metal rods, and a stack of discarded materials—everything looked like it could be used for something. She grit her teeth. She had no intention of waiting for whatever grim fate was being planned for her.

Angie reached for a nearby crate, prying it open with a rusty piece of metal. There were a few random objects inside—broken screws, wires, small electrical parts. As she began assembling what she could, her hand brushed against something cold and hard—an old, tattered folder. She flipped it open, revealing a piece of paper marked with the name Eclipse. Her breath hitched. The organization that had been tormenting them. The figures in black.

A chill ran through her as she read on. The document was incomplete, but there were mentions of cells, operations, and a larger, darker plan. She didn't need to know all the details—she just needed to know they were behind all of this.

Her gaze shifted to a scrap of paper left carelessly on the floor. A note. She grabbed it and began scribbling quickly:

"Elisia, if you somehow found this note, it means I've escaped and I'm going to find help. Don't worry, I'll come back for you, I promise. —Angie"

She paused, staring at the words, the weight of them settling heavily on her chest. She didn't want to leave Elisia behind. What if she couldn't find help? What if Mike and Xerxes were trapped too? What if the worst had already happened?

Her heart pounded, but she wiped the doubts away. She had to try.

Grabbing a few more pieces of metal, Angie began her work. She would not only escape, but she would make sure that note reached Elisia. She needed to let her know that she was still out there, fighting.

Minutes turned into hours as she worked furiously. The makeshift inventions she cobbled together were crude, but she had little time to perfect them. The first was a small, simple mechanism—enough to send the note across the building. With a burst of focus, she crafted it into something resembling a slingshot that could launch the note into another room. The second, a more elaborate device, was designed to help her escape the building entirely—a small but efficient smoke bomb rigged with wires and a short timer. She would create chaos, disorient the guards, and then slip away in the confusion.

She set everything up, her heart racing. The smoke bomb was first. She placed it near the door, rigging it to go off at just the right moment. Then, she armed the slingshot, positioning the note carefully, praying it would reach Elisia's room.

She double-checked everything, the knot in her stomach tightening as she took one last look around the room. She was terrified, but there was no turning back now. She wasn't just escaping for herself—she was fighting for her friends.

With a deep breath, she activated the slingshot. The note flew through the air, landing in the corner of the room with a soft thud. Angie watched it, willing it to be found, before her gaze shifted to the smoke bomb.

She counted down silently in her head, the seconds stretching like hours. Finally, she pulled the string and dropped to the floor, covering her mouth as the room filled with thick smoke. She crawled quickly, moving as quietly as she could, hoping that the chaos would mask her escape. Her heart thudded louder with every passing second, every step toward freedom.

She crawled through the thickening haze, reaching the door. She turned the handle slowly, praying it wasn't locked, and slipped through into the hallway. Her senses were on high alert as she moved through the dark, every footstep echoing in her ears. The shadows seemed to close in on her, but she kept moving, inching her way toward the exit.

Just when she thought she might be caught, the sound of footsteps and shouting filled the hall behind her. She risked a glance back—several figures in black were moving quickly, but they were too distracted by the smoke to notice her.

Angie pushed forward, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached the door, her hand trembling as she twisted the knob. It opened with a creak, and she stepped out into the cold night air, gasping for breath.

Her heart still raced, her body aching from the strain, but she had made it. She had escaped.

Now, it was time to find help—and make sure everyone else would be safe.

Angie staggered through the dense underbrush, her breath ragged as the chill of the night bit at her skin. The pain in her ribs was excruciating, but she pushed through, her determination burning brighter than ever. The building she had escaped from loomed behind her like a sinister shadow, but she refused to look back. Her focus was on the faint glow of headlights in the distance—the main road.

Her steps faltered as her legs grew weak, and just as she reached the edge of the road, a blaring car horn cut through the silence. Angie froze, her eyes wide as a car screeched to a halt inches away from her. She stumbled back, barely avoiding the vehicle, and collapsed onto her knees, gasping for air.

The car doors flew open, and three figures rushed out. Capone, Caren, and Ian.

"Angie?!" Capone exclaimed, his usually bold demeanor shattering at the sight of her disheveled state. Her emerald gown was torn and stained, her face pale and bruised, and her hands trembled as she clutched her side.

"Angie, what happened?" Caren asked, her voice filled with shock and concern as she knelt beside her.

Ian quickly helped Capone lift Angie to her feet. Despite her battered state, Angie's strong personality shone through as she managed a weak but defiant grin. "What does it look like? I escaped hell itself."

They gently guided her into the car, Capone and Ian helping her into the backseat. Caren took the passenger seat, her eyes darting between Angie and the road ahead. Capone settled behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"Take me to Scotland Yard," Angie demanded, her voice firm despite her pain. "We've got bigger problems than you think."

The car sped off toward London, silence heavy in the air until Angie spoke again, her words sending chills through the group. "The organization's called Eclipse," she began. "They're definitely the ones behind Lady Vivienne's shooting at the gala. I don't have all the pieces, but they framed Team Burgundy for it. Put them behind bars while they're still out there, pulling the strings."

Caren's eyes widened in realization. "That explains so much… We just came from the ballroom. We were gathering evidence, trying to make sense of everything."

"And?" Angie asked, her gaze sharp despite the pain that etched her features.

Caren hesitated. "Nothing conclusive yet. But if Eclipse is as dangerous as you're saying, then we're dealing with something much bigger than just the gala."

"Tell me something I don't know," Angie retorted, though her voice softened. She looked out the window, her jaw tightening. "Elisia's still there," she admitted quietly. "I sent her a note, but I don't know if it reached her. And Mike and Xerxes… I don't know if they found her or if…" She trailed off, clenching her fists.

Capone glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "We'll find them," he said firmly.

Ian, sitting beside Angie, placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've been through a lot, Angie. You're safe now. Let us handle this."

Angie shook her head. "Safe? Not until they're out of there. Not until Eclipse is done for." Her voice cracked slightly, but her resolve remained strong.

Caren sighed, leaning back in her seat. "We'll get help. Scotland Yard needs to know about this. But I'm also worried about Claudia, Carmine, and Humbert. We have no idea where they are right now."

"Then let's hope they're still breathing," Angie muttered. "Because if they're not…" She didn't finish the sentence, her voice trailing off into a determined silence.

The car sped toward Scotland Yard, each of them carrying a heavy burden of fear, determination, and the knowledge that their fight was far from over.

---

Alcott Law Firm, London, Team Emerald & Team Midnight

The car hummed steadily as Carmine drove, her fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. The trip to Alcott's law firm felt like an eternity, and the further they drove, the more Carmine's irritation grew. The evening shadows stretched long across the road, making it feel as though they were heading into a trap.

"An hour, just to find an empty office," Carmine muttered under her breath, glancing at Humbert, who was staring intently at the London map he'd found earlier.

Claudia, seated in the back, tilted her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps the hour was a moment of patience, the calm before the storm, though I sense the wind is beginning to shift."

Carmine shot a quick look at her. "Yeah, or it's just wasting our time."

By the time they reached the firm, the building was cloaked in silence, the windows dark. Carmine parked the car and glanced around warily.

"No one's here," she said, her tone skeptical. "Too convenient."

"Maybe he's being questioned, like the others," Claudia offered. "Or perhaps he seeks his missing chariot and banner even now."

Carmine raised an eyebrow at her but didn't respond.

They entered the building, the firm's sterile scent of polished wood and paper filling their noses. Humbert flicked on a small desk lamp, its weak glow illuminating the room. The desk was neat, almost suspiciously so, with a single locked drawer catching Carmine's attention. She grabbed a letter opener from the desk and pried it open.

Inside, there was a thick manila folder stamped UNRESOLVED in bold, red ink. The label read: Case #E-1738.

Carmine flipped through its contents. The documents were dense, but one thing stood out: references to a shadowy group known only as Eclipse. The pages included descriptions of individuals in black attire matching those they'd seen at the gala. There were sketches, testimonies, and cryptic mentions of a leader—unnamed but highly sought after.

"Eclipse," Humbert read aloud over her shoulder. "Sounds ominous."

Claudia leaned in, her voice soft but tinged with foreboding. "A name that devours the light, leaving only shadow and silence."

Carmine frowned. "This case wasn't won. Alcott couldn't pin anything on them. No wonder it's still unresolved."

Before they could analyze further, the telephone on the desk suddenly rang, its shrill tone cutting through the silence like a knife. All three of them froze, exchanging tense glances.

"Don't answer it," Carmine hissed, her eyes narrowing as the ringing continued. "It could be a trap."

It stopped after a moment, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. But just as Humbert exhaled, relieved, the phone began ringing again, louder and more insistent this time.

"Who's calling?" Humbert whispered.

Carmine's grip on the folder tightened, her jaw clenched as they stared at the phone, the ringing echoing in their ears.

Claudia stood near the desk, her hand hovering over the telephone as it rang again, its sharp chime cutting through the silence.

"Claudia, don't—" Carmine warned, her voice low but firm.

But Claudia, her face calm yet unyielding, ignored her. "The whispers of fate beg to be heard," she murmured under her breath, picking up the receiver.

"Claudia!" Humbert hissed, but it was too late. She raised a hand, motioning for both of them to take notes.

There was a pause before a voice spoke, smooth and mocking. "Miss Morello," the man said with feigned politeness, the faintest trace of amusement lacing his words. "Or should I say Mr. Morello?"

Claudia's grip on the receiver tightened, her expression remaining neutral despite the verbal jab. She didn't respond to the taunt.

The voice chuckled darkly. "Ah, no retort? How very professional of you. I'm calling to offer my congratulations—or rather, my condolences. Good luck at the trial tomorrow, Miss McGregor and Mr. Hugh."

Humbert's borrowed pen scratched against a nearby notepad furiously (his face annoyed as his surname was pronounced wrong), while Carmine leaned forward, her jaw clenched.

"You'll need it," the voice continued, his tone dripping with confidence. "You see, you'll never succeed in clearing your friends' names. It's a fool's errand, really."

Claudia's eyes flicked to Carmine, who gestured for her to press for more.

"And who might we thank for this encouragement?" Claudia asked, her voice calm but edged with steel.

The man ignored her question, his voice darkening. "I have men outside, looking for you as we speak. They're quite thorough. You might want to keep that in mind while you play heroics."

Carmine's heart skipped a beat, and Humbert's eyes widened as he scribbled furiously.

Then, faintly in the background of the call, they heard something—weak, labored breathing. It was barely audible, but enough to send a chill through the room.

Claudia's brow furrowed, her fingers twitching slightly against the receiver. "And yet, here you are, spending your time threatening us," she said, her tone as calm as ever. "Why not let your men do the work?"

The voice chuckled again. "Because I enjoy the game, Mr. Morello. I enjoy watching you all squirm. Tick-tock."

With that, the line went dead.

The three of them exchanged tense glances before gathering what they had, preparing to leave the ominous law firm behind. They then hurried down the steps of Alcott's Law Firm, the unsettling silence of the building trailing behind them like an unwelcome shadow. The dark night outside was cold, the streets eerily quiet. Humbert fumbled with the keys as they approached the car, dropping them once before finally unlocking the doors.

"Get in," Carmine snapped, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Her nerves were frayed, and the tension from the mysterious phone call lingered heavily in the air.

Claudia slid into the backseat gracefully, her expression calm but her eyes betraying a quiet storm of thought. Carmine climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door harder than necessary. Humbert, now behind the wheel, started the engine with trembling hands.

"Drive, Humbert," Carmine barked, her voice sharp.

"Yes, yes, of course," Humbert replied hastily, fumbling with the gear shift. "Where to?"

"Anywhere but here," Carmine muttered, leaning her head back against the seat.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Claudia broke the silence, her voice as smooth and measured as ever. "You're upset because I answered the phone."

Carmine scoffed, turning to glare at her. "Upset? You don't even begin to understand how reckless that was! You handed them an invitation to mess with us even more."

Claudia met her gaze through the rearview mirror, unbothered. "The serpent's hiss does no harm if you do not tremble. I answered because silence feeds fear, Carmine."

"Silence might have kept us safe!" Carmine snapped. "You don't think, Claudia. You just act like you're in some tragic play."

Claudia tilted her head, her expression bemused. "And you act like a soldier who's forgotten she's not at war anymore. Perhaps I did stoke the serpent, but tell me, Carmine—did we not leave the den because of it? Would you rather we linger in danger, doubting shadows and whispers?"

"Don't twist this around with your poetry!" Carmine shot back, her voice rising. "You should be grateful you aren't on my team. You probably won't last five minutes."

Claudia's lips curved into a faint smile. "Grateful, you say? And yet, it seems fortune has smiled on you tonight. After all, there were no black figures waiting for us. Merely a clever ruse to drive us out of Alcott's cursed halls."

"Stop acting like you're so clever," Carmine growled, crossing her arms. "You took a gamble, and we got lucky. That's all. Next time, keep your hands off the damn phone."

"Enough, both of you!" Humbert blurted out, his voice cracking as he gripped the wheel. "Can't we just focus on... I don't know, staying alive? You're scaring me more than the creepy phone guy!"

The car fell into a tense silence for a moment, save for the hum of the engine.

Carmine sighed and turned to the window, dismissing the argument. "This is pointless. We've got bigger things to worry about than Claudia's impulsiveness."

"Impulsive?" Claudia murmured, her tone low and almost teasing. "How interesting. And yet, here we are, alive and free of that dreadful place. Perhaps impulse is what saved us."

"Or got us in deeper trouble," Carmine muttered under her breath.

Humbert glanced nervously between them in the rearview mirror. "Um... where am I driving again?"

"Just keep going, Humbert," Carmine said, her voice tired. "I'll tell you when to stop."

Claudia leaned back, gazing out the window. "The serpent slithers still," she said softly, almost to herself. "But I wonder... is it hunting us, or waiting for us to return?"

Carmine groaned audibly. "Can someone please gag her?"

Humbert chuckled nervously, the tension easing just slightly as they drove further into the darkened city, leaving the ominous law firm—and the serpent's hiss—behind them.

As the car rumbled through the quiet streets, the atmosphere was thick with unease. Carmine stared out the window, her jaw set tight, while Claudia sat calmly in the back, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her skirt. Humbert was trying his best to keep the car steady, though his hands trembled slightly on the wheel.

Suddenly, the crackling sound of static erupted from the old walkie-talkie perched on the dashboard. All three froze.

"What the hell?" Carmine muttered, turning toward the device as the static deepened.

"An incoming call," Claudia murmured, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Carmine's head snapped to her. "YOU ARE NOT ANSWERING THAT, CLAUDIA!"

Claudia tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. "And what if this is an opportunity? To glean information, to understand what we're dealing with?"

Carmine's voice rose, sharp with frustration. "No. Absolutely not! Haven't we had enough of your reckless decisions tonight!?"

But Claudia was already reaching for the device, her movements smooth and deliberate. She pressed the button but didn't speak, waiting instead.

The static cleared, and a smooth, elegant voice broke through. "Ah, Mr. Morello. So bold, so inquisitive. I was hoping you'd pick up."

Claudia's calm façade faltered for a fraction of a second. She clenched the walkie-talkie tightly, her jaw tightening.

Humbert's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why's he calling you that?"

Carmine shot a glare at Claudia, then back at the device. "What's your game, huh? Who the hell are you?"

The voice ignored them, continuing with a chillingly calm tone. "Would you like to hear how your delicate little friend is doing? Oh, she is quite... lovely. Fragile. Like porcelain." There was a dark suggestiveness in the words that sent shivers down Claudia's spine.

Before Carmine could snap a retort, another voice came through—Elisia's, faint and broken.

"Claudia... Claudia…?"

Claudia's breath hitched, and she put a hand over her mouth in shock. "Elisia?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Oh, she's been such a delight," the voice interrupted, mocking. "But I fear she's growing tired. Shall we wake her up?"

A sharp, sickening sound followed—Elisia's cry of pain.

"Elisia!" Claudia shouted, her calm demeanor shattering.

Elisia's voice came again, weak and trembling. "Claudia... please... listen to me."

"I'm listening," Claudia said quickly, gripping the device as if her life depended on it.

"The person behind this... it's the chancellor..." Elisia managed, but her words were cut off by a violent slap. She screamed, the sound raw and agonizing, followed by quiet sobbing.

"YOU MONSTER!" Carmine roared into the walkie-talkie. "Who the hell are you?"

The voice returned, smooth as ever. "Such fire. Such passion. But that won't help you now. Do tread carefully."

Claudia's voice was filled with fury and desperation. "You will end this. Do you hear me? You won't get away with this!"

The voice chuckled softly, unbothered by her anger. "Goodbye, Mr. Morello. For now." The static resumed, then went silent.

Humbert, his face pale and strained, gripped the steering wheel tighter. "We need to get back to Scotland Yard. Fast. It's already four in the morning!"

"Then drive faster, Tree!" Carmine snapped.

Claudia sat frozen in the back, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and determination. She clenched her fists, silently vowing to put an end to this nightmare.

---

Scotland Yard (Cells) - Team Burgundy, Team Midnight

Hours passed, and the weight of despair filled the shared cell of Team Burgundy. Naila, AJ, and Blair had succumbed to exhaustion, their quiet breathing the only sound in the otherwise stifling silence. Ashe sat awake, his sharp eyes scanning the cell for anything that could be used as a tool for escape, though his search seemed futile. Declan leaned against the cold wall, his eyelids drooping but his thoughts restless. Zuni, in her separate cell, had her knees pulled to her chest, lost in deep contemplation.

Suddenly, the soft creak of the door brought Ashe's attention to the hallway. Two police officers entered, their boots muffled against the floor. One officer approached Blair's cell and slipped a folded piece of paper through the bars. The other officer did the same with Zuni, leaving her a note before stepping back.

Blair stirred, blinking awake at the sound, while Zuni instinctively reached for the paper, her fingers trembling slightly.

'Trial is happening later at 7. Case is urgent due to the event involved.'

Before anyone could process what was happening, the officer with the keys moved to the shared cell and began unlocking it. Declan stiffened, his voice hushed but nervous. "What's going on?"

The officer paused, lowering the brim of her hat to reveal her face. "It's me," Setsuna whispered sharply, her eyes darting to the sleeping guards down the other side of the hallway.

Declan and Ashe exchanged shocked glances, but Setsuna quickly raised a finger to her lips. "Shh. Wake Naila and AJ quietly. We're getting you out of here," she instructed.

Ashe reached over, shaking Naila gently awake. "Hey, get up," he whispered urgently. Naila blinked groggily, her eyes widening in confusion as she registered the scene. Declan nudged AJ, who sat up, his face full of questions.

Setsuna crouched beside the open cell door. "Listen carefully. AJ, you're staying. You're a key witness, and we can't risk losing your testimony. But Ashe, Declan, Naila, and I are leaving now. You've got to trust us."

She handed Declan a slim file labeled "Case #E-1738" with the red UNRESOLVED stamp across it. "This is evidence we found. It ties the black figures to something much bigger—an organization called Eclipse. It's all in there, we're gonna need it for the trial today."

"Today?" Ashe asked.

"Yes."

Meanwhile, Evan knelt beside Blair's cell, gently waking her and pointing to the note on the floor. Blair rubbed her eyes, then unfolded the paper, reading it in the dim light. Her face hardened with determination as she absorbed its contents.

Evan moved silently to Zuni's cell, gesturing for her to read the paper he had left for her. Zuni quickly scanned it, her breath catching at the implications. "Eclipse," she murmured under her breath, her mind racing.

Evan unlocked Zuni's cell and Blair's cell with practiced ease. "You three are staying together. We need your testimonies." he said softly, leading Zuni and Blair to join AJ in the shared cell.

Ashe, Declan, and Naila followed Setsuna out of their cell, their movements careful and silent. Once they were in the corridor, Ashe whispered, "What about the surveillance cameras?"

"Taken care of," Evan replied as he rejoined them, his tone brisk. "I disabled them from the main office."

Setsuna turned to the three escapees, her expression resolute. "We don't have much time. Follow my lead, stay close, and stay quiet. We'll get out of here, but only if we work together."

AJ watched them leave, gripping the bars tightly. "Be careful," he whispered, his eyes filled with both worry and hope.

Setsuna looked at Evan. "Take care. Once the others come back, tell them to head for the Old Bailey."

"Got it. You too."

With Setsuna leading the way and Evan covering the rear, Ashe, Declan, and Naila moved swiftly through the dim corridors of the facility, their escape fueled by determination and the fragile hope that freedom could help uncover the truth behind Eclipse and the black figures.

Once outside, the four of them continued to move quickly and quietly through the darkened streets, their footsteps muffled by the crisp night air. Setsuna led the way, glancing over her shoulder every few steps to ensure they weren't being followed.

As they neared a small, quiet boutique, Setsuna stopped and motioned to the others. "We need to look presentable for the trial later. We can't walk in there looking like this." She gestured to their dirty gala attires and her stolen uniform, which was now wrinkled and disheveled from their hasty escape.

"Plus, this officer's uniform smells like sweat," she added with a grimace.

Naila smirked. "Not to mention, it's incredibly uncomfortable."

Setsuna nodded, pulling out one of the officer's universal keys she had grabbed earlier. "Let's see if this works."

The others watched in awe as Setsuna inserted the key into the boutique's door and turned it. The lock clicked open with ease.

"Impressive," Ashe whispered under his breath.

Naila's eyes lit up as she pushed the door open. "I can't believe we're actually breaking into a store!" she said, her excitement unmistakable. "Declan, you're picking out our trial outfits! Make them sparkly!"

Declan hesitated, glancing around nervously. "You're all going to get me caught, aren't you?" His voice trembled slightly as he eyed the boutique's dark interior.

"Just do it quickly, Declan," Ashe urged, stepping inside and looking around. "We don't have time to waste."

Declan sighed and finally relented, straightening up and adopting his usual flamboyant style. He moved confidently between the racks of clothes, his eyes scanning the options. "Alright, alright, let's make this snappy. The trial's today, so we need to look sharp." His fingers danced across the fabrics as he pulled out various outfits, giving his usual commentary as he went.

For Naila, he pulled out a tailored pant suit—black, with sleek white lines, perfect for her style. She grinned, clearly pleased. "Perfect. No dresses for me, thanks."

For Ashe, Declan picked a sharp black blazer, paired with a simple white shirt and slim black trousers. "You can't go wrong with this," he declared, his nervousness fading a little as he focused on the task at hand.

For Setsuna, Declan found a black and white dress that hugged her figure, elegant long sleeves and a tasteful cut at the neckline; a professional yet elegant appearance. He gave it a once-over before nodding in approval. "This will do."

The group moved quickly as Declan grabbed his own outfit—an elegant black suit with a crisp white shirt. It wasn't as flamboyant as he would have liked, but it would suffice.

They changed quickly in the boutique's small fitting room, the air thick with tension. Setsuna made a face as she changed into the dress, clearly uncomfortable with the formality of it, but she knew it was necessary. Naila, on the other hand, was practically beaming as she slipped into the pantsuit, clearly feeling much more herself.

They emerged from the boutique, now in attire suited for the trial, their hairstyles back in shape. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Ashe turned to Setsuna, his face slightly concerned. "So, where's this trial happening, exactly?"

Setsuna immediately answered. "It's definitely happening at the Central Criminal Court—better known as the Old Bailey," she said. "It's not far from here, just a short walk. That's where most of London's trials happen during this era… even until now. In our time."

Declan blinked in astonishment. "How'd you know all this?"

The Japanese girl chuckled. "Well, aside from reading the files, let's just say I've learned a bit of London's history as well during my archaeology classes. They do have the British Museum after all. Maybe we could visit it once this is over."

Naila laughed. "We probably won't. This world will probably shred again like last time."

Ashe widened his eyes in realization. "You know, I almost forgot why are we here in the first place. I'm not even sure if the Golden Ring is involved in all of this. Maybe these people killed Lady Vivienne because they were after the Golden Ring? Maybe she knows where it is?"

Naila snorted. "Then why would they kill her when she knows where it is? They can't make dead people talk, all they did was gave her her doom faster and earlier than her chances of bearing a fetus."

They set off together, talking and walking through the quiet streets of London, their pace brisk as they made their way toward the Old Bailey. The weight of the trial loomed over them, but they kept their heads down, focused on getting to their destination.

---

Scotland Yard (Holding Cell) - Team Burgundy & Team Midnight

Back in the shared cell, the atmosphere was tense as Evan, Blair, AJ, and Zuni gathered quietly. Evan stood near the bars, holding up the syringe he had taken from the evidence bag, his eyes scanning the others with a look of grim determination.

"I found this," he said, his voice low but steady, holding up the syringe for everyone to see. "This is what the black figure used to drug me earlier. It's one of their methods—just like how they tried to get me to reveal the contents of a binder we brought to the main office. Sarika and Seema sent us there on a mission... but I'm guessing that binder's more important than we thought."

Blair frowned, her expression darkening. "The black figures drugged you?" She shook her head. "What are they after?"

"They want whatever's in that binder," Evan continued, lowering the syringe slightly. "They'll stop at nothing to get it. And from what I've seen, they're connected to some bigger organization. I'm not sure who's behind it yet, but the pieces are starting to fit."

AJ, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. "Those black figures? I saw them peering through the windows... I had a bad feeling the whole time and I was sure Ashe sensed it too."

Zuni nodded slowly, her thoughts clearly running deep. "I've seen them too while I was dancing with the Chancellor. But they're probably not just some random group of thugs. They may be organized—trained, even. They've got their eyes on something bigger, possibly the Golden Ring maybe. And I think… I suspect the Chancellor too."

Blair sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't even know what I'm going to say at the trial. I've been trying to think of how to defend myself from being an accomplice, but after everything that's happened... I'm not even sure where to start. I was just cheering for Zuni at first, and then everything went sideways."

Zuni glanced at Blair sympathetically. "I know this is hard, but the truth will help us all. We just need to stick to it, no matter what. It's what Setsuna said."

AJ nodded in agreement. "We've got no choice now. They've got us cornered. But we can't let them win."

Evan exchanged a look with Zuni, his expression a mix of frustration and realization. "There's one thing I'm still wondering about," he said, his voice quieter now. "What if the Chancellor is involved in all of this? Zuni, you said something earlier that made me think. Why do you suspect the Chancellor?"

Zuni's eyes darkened at the mention of the Chancellor. She looked away for a moment, clearly troubled by the memory. "I had an... uncomfortable chat with the Chancellor while I was in my cell," she admitted, her voice tinged with unease. "He mentioned that we wouldn't succeed—that you are all taken care of. It didn't sit right with me."

Evan and Blair exchanged a wary glance. "What did he say exactly?" Blair asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zuni hesitated before answering. "He didn't go into specifics, but that line about us not succeeding? It felt like a warning. Like he was trying to send us a message, or maybe even set us up for something worse."

Evan clenched his fists, the weight of the conversation sinking in. "So, we're up against someone who's not just part of this Eclipse organization, but also possibly deeply connected to the higher-ups. If the Chancellor actually is involved, that means things are a lot more dangerous than we thought."

AJ frowned. "So, what's the plan then? We've got no choice but to stick together and trust that we can make it through the trial by telling everything we saw. But if the Chancellor's involved, I'm not sure we can trust anyone in that courtroom other than your team, Carmine, and Humbert. And if they all found out that Ashe, Declan, and Naila escaped… yeah that's not gonna be very pretty, maybe they should've stayed with us until the trial."

Zuni looked determined, her voice steady now. "We'll have to play it carefully. Setsuna might have let them escape because they have the proof that can be used against us and won't be able to contribute to the testimonies. You wouldn't expect to have Setsuna crack all that by herself do you?" she added, "The truth might be our best defense, especially since we saw those figures the most, but we'll need to be ready for whatever comes next. We can't back down. Not now."

The group fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of their situation sinking in. They knew they couldn't afford to make mistakes. The trial was today, but the stakes had risen far beyond just proving their innocence. Now, they had to uncover the truth about Eclipse, the Chancellor, and whatever else lay beneath the surface of the mission to the Golden Ring.

---

Scotland Yard (Lobby) - Team Midnight & Team Emerald

The car screeched to a halt outside Scotland Yard, its tires squealing against the pavement. Angie, despite her exhaustion and battered appearance, was the first to push the door open, her heels clicking sharply as she rushed out. Capone, Caren, and Ian followed closely behind, all of them aware of the urgency in the air.

A guard immediately stepped forward, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Angie—her gown torn, her face bruised, and her demeanor radiating exhaustion. "Hold on," he barked, holding up a hand to stop them. "What's the rush?"

Angie didn't waste time. Her voice was urgent, forceful. "Eclipse kidnapped me and my teammate," she spat. "I escaped, and you need to send the police to that warehouse right now. They're still there, still pulling the strings."

The guard hesitated, eyeing her with skepticism. "Eclipse? You expect us to believe that? Miss, you look like you've been through hell, but this sounds far-fetched."

Angie's frustration bubbled over. "Look at me!" she snapped, gesturing to her disheveled state. "Does this look like the aftermath of just some random assault? I'm telling you, they've got my team in there. If you don't act now, we're all dead."

Capone stepped up beside her, his voice insistent. "One of them drugged our teammate, Evan, right here in Scotland Yard. Right under your noses. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

Caren quickly cut him off, her voice a low hiss. "We didn't see it happen. Don't make this worse."

Ian, holding the seat plan and several gala-related documents they acquired earlier during their investigation, was about to show the guard the evidence they had gathered when Caren's sharp whisper stopped him. "Don't. It's useless."

The tension in the air escalated. "What are you talking about?" Ian demanded, his ditz now replaced with frustration. "We have the evidence, Caren!"

"We're already getting nowhere," Caren muttered, pacing. "We need to figure out what to say before they throw us out of here."

Before any of them could argue further, the door to the main room swung open, and a figure strode in. The tall officer wore an expression of cold authority, and his presence instantly silenced the group. His nameplate read Chief Inspector Braxton Cross.

"Enough," he commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You will explain yourselves in the waiting room. Now." His tone left no room for argument.

The guards quickly stepped aside as he motioned for them to follow. Inside the room, Chief Inspector Cross leaned against the desk, arms crossed as he regarded them with a stern, calculating gaze.

Angie took the lead again, her voice raw but firm. "Eclipse is a dangerous organization. They're most likely behind Lady Vivienne's shooting at the gala, and they framed our friends for it. We're certain they're involved in that murder too, along with the kidnapping of me and my teammate."

Cross narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable. "All Eclipse cases are closed. There is nothing more to discuss."

Caren opened her mouth to protest, but the inspector's glare silenced her immediately.

"You'll wait here," Cross said, turning on his heel. "And when you're ready to explain the truth without all the theatrics, I'll listen."

Without another word, he exited the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

The group exchanged frustrated glances. They were far from done, but the weight of the situation was only growing heavier.

The tense silence in the room was broken by the creak of the door as Evan stepped in, still clad in the police uniform he had used to avoid detection. His eyes scanned the group, landing on Angie. His relief was palpable.

"Angie?" he said, his voice filled with equal parts shock and relief. "You made it out?"

Angie nodded, her determination burning through the exhaustion on her face. "Barely. Eclipse is bigger than we thought, Evan. They've got Elisia, and Mike and Xerxes might be there too. We have to act now."

Caren interjected, holding up the documents they'd gathered. "We've been piecing things together. These are from the gala, but we're not sure if they're enough to prove anything."

Ian, his usual ditzy demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness, frowned. "What about Carmine, Humbert, and Claudia? Have they come back?"

Evan shook his head. "No, they haven't. And honestly, I'm getting worried."

Angie's face darkened. "Where are they?"

Caren hesitated, glancing at the others before answering. "They went to a lawyer's law firm… it's a long story. But we haven't heard from them since."

Evan lowered his voice. "Listen. The trial has been moved to the Old Bailey, and it's happening in just a few hours. Setsuna helped Ashe, Declan, and Naila escape Scotland Yard. They're already waiting there, lying low to avoid being caught. But Zuni, Blair, and AJ will stay here, they'll go there later to testify later in the trial."

Capone leaned in, his brows furrowed. "But won't Ashe, Declan, and Naila get caught if someone realizes they're missing?"

Evan shook his head. "Setsuna's handling it. She's good at this. They've also changed their appearances—there's no way anyone will recognize them now. Trust me on this."

Caren glanced at Angie, concerned. "We should take you to a hospital first. You're in no shape to stand in a courtroom."

Angie shook her head adamantly. "No. I'm going to the trial just like this. Let them see me. Let them see what Eclipse did to me. It's proof—proof they can't ignore. And maybe then they'll act before it's too late."

The others exchanged uncertain glances. Ian gulped, "I don't know if that'll work…"

"It has to," Angie insisted, her voice unwavering. "Elisia, Mike, and Xerxes are still trapped in that warehouse. If I don't do this, who will?"

Evan suddenly tensed, his eyes flicking toward the door. "Cross is coming back. We need to move now."

Without another word, the group stood, urgency driving their movements. They slipped out of the room, avoiding the approaching footsteps, and quietly made their way out of Scotland Yard. Their destination was clear: the Old Bailey. The clock was ticking, and failure wasn't an option.

Evan led Ian, Capone, Caren, and Angie down the dimly lit corridors of Scotland Yard, their footsteps barely audible. He glanced back, his voice a hushed whisper. "Stay close. We can't afford to get caught now."

As they navigated the maze of hallways, Evan slipped the syringe into Ian's hand. "Take this. It's further proof that Eclipse is behind everything. It's the same one they used to drug me."

Ian inspected the syringe, his brow furrowing and his suspicion growing once more. "I don't know, Evan. Maybe if you actually didn't read the binder, you wouldn't have been drugged in the first place."

Evan opened his mouth to respond, but Caren cut him off. "We don't have time for this right now. What happens if Carmine, Humbert, and Claudia don't come back in time for the trial? Who's going to defend Zuni and the rest of Team Burgundy?"

Capone, moving swiftly at Angie's side, grunted. "We'll find out when we get to the Old Bailey. Maybe Setsuna and the others have a plan."

The tension in the group was thick, but they pushed forward, their focus unwavering. Finally, they reached the back exit of Scotland Yard. Evan opened the door just enough to peek outside, scanning for any guards or patrols.

"All clear," he whispered, motioning for them to move.

The group slipped out into the cool London air, the city's streets eerily quiet in the early morning. As they hurried toward the Old Bailey, Evan stopped abruptly, turning to face them.

"I'm heading back to Scotland Yard," he said firmly.

"What?" Angie's eyes widened. "Why?"

"If Carmine, Humbert, and Claudia come back, someone needs to be there to meet them," Evan explained. "I can't just leave them behind. I'll come there with them. You all get to the Old Bailey—make sure the trial starts on the right foot."

Caren hesitated, then nodded. "Be careful, Evan. We can't lose anyone else."

Evan gave them a determined look before turning and jogging back toward Scotland Yard. The others continued their journey, the imposing silhouette of the Old Bailey coming into view as the sun began to rise.

---

? - Team Emerald - HEAVY WARNING

As the Chancellor's gloved hand lingered, his voice lowered, becoming a quiet murmur only she could hear. Elisia's mind screamed for her to resist, to fight back, but her body betrayed her, paralyzed by fear. The room seemed to darken as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating.

What followed was a blur—fragments of sensations she wished she could erase. His mocking tone, the cold press of his gloves against her bare skin, the loss of control that left her powerless. Her consciousness ebbed and flowed, fear mixing with shame and helplessness as the world spiraled around her.

When Elisia woke up hours later, the first thing she noticed was the pain—a deep, unrelenting ache that radiated through her body. Every movement felt like fire: stiff and unyielding. Her arms throbbed with a dull, familiar sensation, reminiscent of the times she injected herself with insulin, but this pain was sharper, lingering like an unwelcome reminder. Panic gripped her as she touched her arm just near her shoulder, finding the faint indentation of a deep needle mark.

Her breaths quickened as her thoughts raced. What did he do to me?

Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself up, her hands trembling. Her gown was even more tattered than before, the fabric torn and stained beyond recognition as it barely clung to her frame. She bit back the tears threatening to spill again, forcing herself to focus on survival.

The room was eerily silent, the faint hum of machinery the only sound. Shadows danced along the walls, and the door stood slightly ajar, as if inviting her to leave—or daring her to try. She knew she couldn't stay here, couldn't risk another encounter with him or anyone else involved in this nightmare.

Despite the burning pain in her body, Elisia stumbled to her feet. Each step was agony, but her determination drove her forward. She clutched the edge of the table to steady herself, her knees threatening to buckle. The hallway outside was dimly lit, a maze of cold metal and unfamiliar walls.

She moved as quickly as her battered body would allow, her heart pounding with every sound—every creak of the floor, every distant voice. She had no plan, no idea where she was going, but one thought kept her moving: I have to get out; it's what Angie would do.

As she rounded a corner, the faint echo of footsteps reached her ears, sending a chill down her spine. Fear gripped her, but she pressed on, adrenaline masking the worst of her pain. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps as she searched desperately for Angie, Mike, Xerxes, or even an exit, the weight of what had happened pressing down on her with every step.

---

? - Team Emerald

Mike and Xerxes trudged through the labyrinth of the dark, desolate building, their footsteps echoing off the cold walls. Hours had passed since they'd started searching for Angie and Elisia, and the weight of failure pressed heavier with every empty room and dead end they encountered. Mike's jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his growing frustration.

"This place is a damn maze," Mike muttered under his breath. "We've checked almost every room, and still… nothing."

Xerxes was silent, his focus unwavering despite the exhaustion etched into his features. Petra rested quietly in his arms, her weak chirps growing fainter. The falcon's state mirrored his own internal turmoil.

Then, in the dim light of a narrow hallway, Mike noticed something. A small, crumpled piece of paper lay on the ground, half-tucked beneath the door of a room they'd just passed. Frowning, he bent down to pick it up, smoothing it out with shaking hands. His eyes scanned the hastily written words:

Elisia, if you somehow found this note, it means I've escaped and I'm going to find help. Don't worry, I'll come back for you, I promise. —Angie

Mike froze, staring at the note in disbelief. "Xerxes," he called out, his voice trembling slightly. "Look at this."

Xerxes stopped and turned, his gaze sharp. When Mike handed him the note, Xerxes' expression shifted—a fleeting moment of relief, followed by renewed worry.

"She escaped," Xerxes murmured, almost to himself. His grip on the note tightened as his mind raced. "Angie got away. That's… that's good news."

Mike nodded, a small, hopeful smile breaking through his grim demeanor. "She's alive. She's safe, and she's trying to find help." He let out a shaky breath, the tension in his chest easing slightly. For a moment, it felt like a small victory in the sea of chaos.

But Xerxes' relief was short-lived. His gaze drifted down the hallway, the shadows deepening the worry etched into his features. "Elisia is still here, though," he said quietly, his voice heavy with fear. "She's alone. And if Angie managed to escape, that means whoever took them is going to focus all their attention on her now."

Mike's heart sank at Xerxes' words, the weight of the situation pressing down on him once more. He knew Xerxes was right—Elisia was still trapped in this nightmare, and every second they wasted put her in greater danger.

"We'll find her," Mike said firmly, though the unease in his voice betrayed him. "We can't stop now. Angie escaped, so there's hope. We just have to keep looking."

Xerxes nodded, his jaw tightening with resolve. "Then let's not waste another second."

The two pressed on, their pace quickening despite the exhaustion gnawing at their bodies. Angie's note gave them a sliver of hope, but the thought of Elisia still out there—alone, vulnerable, and at the mercy of their captors—drove them forward with renewed urgency.

But as Mike and Xerxes crept down the hallway, the faint sound of someone calling for help reached their ears. The voice was weak, almost a whisper, but distinctly male.

"Did you hear that?" Mike whispered, stopping in his tracks.

Xerxes frowned, his sharp eyes scanning the dim corridor. "I heard it. But it could be a trap."

Mike hesitated, glancing in the direction of the voice. "What if it's not? What if someone needs our help?"

Xerxes clenched his jaw, his instincts telling him to remain cautious. But after a moment, he sighed. "Fine. But stay alert."

They moved toward the sound, their steps cautious but determined. The voice led them to a room at the end of the hallway. Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a shocking sight—an older man, still dressed in an elegant but now disheveled suit, tied to a chair. His face was pale, and his sharp features were marred by exhaustion.

Mike's eyes widened. "Lord Montclair?" he blurted out.

The man lifted his head, his tired gaze meeting theirs. "Please," he said hoarsely. "Untie me."

Xerxes stepped closer, still wary. "Who did this to you? Who locked you up here?"

Lord Montclair's expression darkened. "My brother… Edrith Montclair. He's the one behind all of this."

The two boys exchanged stunned glances. "Your brother?" Mike repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and confusion.

Lord Montclair nodded grimly. "He leads an organization called Eclipse. They disguise themselves in black outfits and masks. It's them—you must have seen them already."

Xerxes's mind flashed back to the figures in black they had encountered. He clenched his fists, his unease growing. "We've seen them. And you're saying your brother is pretending to be you? The Chancellor?"

"Yes," Montclair replied bitterly. "He orchestrated my abduction at my gala, took my place, and has been running Eclipse from the shadows. Even his own daughter, Celestine, is part of his plans. She's the only woman in the organization—if you've met her, I'm sure you would remember."

Xerxes stiffened, recalling the uncomfortable encounter he'd had with Celestine. "She was the one who… got too close, isn't she," he muttered, his voice tight.

Lord Montclair sighed. "She's as cunning as her father. They've both been after the same thing—a golden ring, twenty-four carats, worth over two million pounds. Lady Vivienne had it, and they killed her during the blackout at the gala to take it."

"The Golden Ring…" Mike's stomach churned. "Framing Team Burgundy, kidnapping people… it's all over the ring?" he sighed. "And I thought we were the only ones after it."

"It's not just a ring," Montclair explained, his voice urgent. "It's a symbol of power, wealth, and status. With it, my brother believes he can solidify his control over certain high-ranking officials. He's been using the warehouse and other locations to scheme, but he often goes to the British Museum to finalize his plans. That's where most of Eclipse is hiding. This warehouse is just a location where they would kidnap victims."

Xerxes frowned. "The British Museum? Why there?"

"It's a cover," Montclair said. "The museum is public, and it allows them to move without suspicion. If you want to stop him, you need to go there immediately. He won't stop until he has everything he wants."

Mike hesitated. "What about you? Will you come with us?"

Montclair shook his head firmly. "No. I'll go to the trial and expose the truth. I need to clear up everything and ensure that Eclipse is dismantled. But you two must stop him before it's too late."

The weight of his words settled heavily on the boys, but they nodded in determination.

"We'll stop him," Xerxes said resolutely. "But you have to make it to the trial."

Montclair gave a tired but grateful nod. "I will. Now, go. Time is of the essence."

With that, Mike and Xerxes left the room, their minds racing with everything they'd just learned. The British Museum was their next destination, but they couldn't shake the dread of what awaited them there.

As they hurried down the dimly lit hallway toward the exit, Mike's pace quickened, his determination clear. "Come on, Xerxes, we have to get to the museum. Lord Montclair said that's where most of Eclipse is hiding."

Xerxes suddenly stopped, his sharp voice cutting through the air. "What about Elisia?"

Mike turned to him, his frustration bubbling up. "Angie left a note. She's going to get help. We don't have time to waste. If we can stop Eclipse at the museum, we can end this whole thing and come back for her. Angie will be here with help any moment now!"

Xerxes's jaw clenched, his arms still cradling Petra protectively. "And what if Angie doesn't come back? What if something happens to her? Or to Elisia while we're gone? I'm not leaving her here, Mike."

The tension between them snapped taut, both of them staring at each other with a mix of anger and desperation.

"You think I don't care about Elisia?" Mike snapped. "Of course I do! But this isn't just about her. If we don't stop Eclipse, this whole thing spirals out of control and we'll never get out of here—all of us could even end up dead!"

Xerxes's voice rose, uncharacteristically emotional. "And you think I don't know that? I know that, too! But leaving her here, after everything she's probably going through? You're asking me to walk away from her, and I can't do that, Mike!"

Mike threw his hands up in frustration. "You're thinking with your heart, Xerxes. You don't usually do that, and it's clouding your judgment."

Xerxes's eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Maybe I am. But Elisia is more than just another piece on the chessboard. She's a person, Mike. And I can't just abandon her, not when I—" He stopped himself, his throat tightening.

"You what, Xerxes?" Mike took a step closer, his tone growing sharper. "You have feelings for her? That's fine, but this isn't the time to let that get in the way!"

Xerxes's gaze hardened, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. "Maybe you don't understand because you're not in my position. But I'm not leaving her behind. If you want to go to the museum, fine. Go. But I'm staying here. I'm not leaving this place without her."

The finality in his voice hung in the air like a heavy weight. Mike's frustration boiled over, but he could see the unwavering resolve in Xerxes's eyes.

"Fine," Mike snapped, throwing his hands up. "Do whatever the hell you want. I'll go to the museum alone."

Xerxes didn't respond, his focus already shifting back to the corridor, where Elisia was still somewhere in the darkness. Without another word, Mike stormed off toward the exit, leaving Xerxes behind. The falconer stood still for a moment, his arms tightening around Petra before he turned back.

---

Old Bailey -Team Burgundy & Team Midnight

The soft murmur of the bustling courtroom filled the room as Ashe, Setsuna, Declan, and Naila sat in a secluded corner of the Old Bailey, the evidence laid out before them. Papers were scattered across the table, some heavily marked, others still untouched, and the weight of the case they were reviewing weighed heavily on them all.

Setsuna flipped through the last few pages of the case file, her eyes narrowing as she read over the various pieces of evidence retrieved from the previous Eclipse case. The atmosphere around them grew tense as they sifted through it all. The sentence that caught their attention was cryptic and puzzling: "From the dawn of time to the final flight, our secrets rest beneath."

Ashe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What could that mean? 'Dawn of time,' 'final flight'—those feel like they could be metaphors for something. Maybe… something ancient? Or extinct?"

Declan raised an eyebrow. "It could be a reference to something prehistoric… but how does it fit with Eclipse?"

Setsuna's brow furrowed, and she reached for her bag, pulling out a set of notes she had made on the case earlier. Her fingers flew over the pages as she scanned the text, eyes flicking back to the cryptic sentence. "Wait… 'final flight,' 'dawn of time'… These could be referring to a dinosaur."

The group fell silent for a moment as her words sunk in.

"A dinosaur?" Naila echoed, her expression curious but skeptical. "That's a little out there you know, even for Eclipse."

Setsuna smiled slightly, a glimmer of realization lighting up her eyes. "Actually, it makes perfect sense. Let me explain." She turned to the sentence again, reading it aloud. "'From the dawn of time to the final flight, our secrets rest beneath.' The words 'dawn of time' might refer to something very old, and 'final flight'… well, that could be the key. There's a dinosaur species that fits perfectly: the Archaeopteryx."

Ashe, Declan, and Naila exchanged confused looks, but Setsuna didn't wait for them to respond. "Archaeopteryx is one of the earliest known dinosaurs with the ability to fly. It lived millions of years ago during the late Jurassic period, around 150 million years ago. It's considered the 'dawn of flight' in terms of dinosaurs. And the phrase 'final flight'? The Archaeopteryx could be seen as a precursor to modern birds, linking it to flight in the final stage of evolution."

She paused, letting the information sink in. "Now, the 'beneath' part… that's the key to the next clue. The British Museum has a significant collection of dinosaur fossils. Specifically, they have fossils from the late Jurassic period—perfectly preserved and housed deep beneath the museum's archives."

A hush fell over the group as they processed the implications of her discovery. "So the sentence was a word play of sorts?" Declan asked, his mind racing with the possibilities.

"Exactly," Setsuna replied, her voice growing more focused. "This entire sentence is pointing us directly to the British Museum. Eclipse's main headquarters is likely beneath it, hidden deep within its archives."

The realization hit them all at once, the weight of the discovery both relieving and daunting. The pieces were falling into place.

"We need to go there, now," Setsuna said urgently, rising from the table with renewed purpose. "If Eclipse is hiding in the museum, we have to stop them and whoever's behind all this."

Naila, already standing and bouncing on the balls of her feet, grinned. "Now that sounds like fun. I'm in. Let's go prank some villains!" Her childlike excitement made Setsuna smile despite the seriousness of the situation.

Ashe looked at Declan, his face grim. "You and I will stay here. Evan and the others should be showing up soon, and we need to wait for them to make sure we're all on the same page."

Declan nodded in agreement, but then his face shifted with a thought. "But… who's going to defend Zuni, AJ, and Blair? Carmine, Humbert, and Claudia aren't here, and they're supposed to defend them."

Ashe frowned, clearly troubled by the question. "That's a good point. Without them, who will step in for the defense? The trial's about to start, and if those three are left without proper representation..." His voice trailed off as he realized the seriousness of their situation.

Setsuna turned to Ashe with a serious expression. From her bag, she pulled out a small pin and handed it to him. It was a sleek silver pin, engraved with the words "Barrister," its simplicity belying its importance.

"Ashe," she said softly, "I found this while I was searching through Scotland Yard with Evan. It was probably confiscated during an investigation from a previous case. It's not much, but it's enough to prove you're qualified to defend someone in a trial. In case… in case they don't come back in time, you're going to have to stand in for them."

Ashe stared at the pin, his fingers lightly brushing its cool surface. A sense of dread filled him, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. "I… I'm not a lawyer. I don't even know where to begin with something like this."

Declan, who had been quiet until then, leaned forward, his usual playful demeanor replaced with an encouraging smile. "You'll be fine, Ashe. You've got a good head on your shoulders. You can do this. You won't be alone."

Ashe turned to him, still unsure. "But what if I mess up? The trial… it's for Team Burgundy, they could go to jail for real if I don't do it right. I can't make mistakes."

Declan chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension. It was his turn to help Ashe now. "Hey, don't worry about that. I'm with you. We've got this, okay? You and I, together."

To Ashe's surprise, Declan reached over and gave his hand a firm squeeze. For a brief moment, their hands lingered, fingers entwined, the touch a simple gesture of support. Ashe stared at their joined hands in surprise, and Declan quickly pulled his hand back, his face flushing with a nervous laugh.

"Uh, well… you know," Declan stammered awkwardly, glancing away. "Just… trying to make you feel better. Nothing weird."

Ashe chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Right. Thanks, Declan."

From across the room, Naila, who had been watching the exchange with a mischievous glint in her eyes, raised an eyebrow. "Ooooh, getting all cozy over here, huh? You two sure about that 'nothing weird' part?" she teased, grinning widely. "Do you want me to go get Taylor Shift to sing you a sappy l—OW, HEY!" she squealed as Setsuna clapped the back of the prankster's head a little too hard.

Both Ashe and Declan turned bright red, quickly avoiding her gaze. "Stop it Naila," Ashe muttered, though his tone was lighter now, more amused.

Naila snickered as straightened herself up. "Anyway, we're heading out, right? Let's get going. The British Museum awaits!"

Setsuna gave a small, reassuring nod. "We'll be back soon," she said quietly to Ashe, before turning to Declan. "Don't worry, we'll handle this. You two just make sure the trial stays on track."

With that, Setsuna and Naila left the Old Bailey, leaving Ashe and Declan behind in the quiet tension of the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, Ashe looked down at the lawyer's pin in his hand once more, his doubts still swirling. But the weight of the situation was clear—there was no turning back now. They had to keep moving forward.

"Well," Ashe muttered, trying to shake off his nerves. "Let's hope I don't mess this up."

Declan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We're in this together. And hey, if you need any help, I've got your back."

Ashe looked at Declan, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty in his eyes. "Thanks, Declan. Let's just get this done."

---

Scotland Yard (Holding Cell) - Team Burgundy

As the hours dragged on and the tension in the shared cell grew heavier, Zuni, AJ, and Blair found themselves gathered in one corner, trying to distract themselves from the upcoming trial. The weight of their situation hung over them, but for a moment, they decided to reminisce about the chaotic gala from the night before.

Zuni leaned back against the wall, a small smile creeping onto her face. "You know, I've been thinking about that gala. It was so... absurdly fancy. All those chandeliers, the orchestras, and the hors d'oeuvres they kept serving on those ridiculous silver trays."

AJ groaned, throwing his head back in exaggerated frustration. "Don't even get me started on those horse dovers." he said, not even trying to correct his pronunciation. "Who in their right mind thinks one tiny cracker with some weird paste on it is enough to be called food? I swear I ate like ten of those things, and I was still starving."

Blair smirked, crossing her arms as she looked at AJ. "No offense, AJ, but knowing you, you'd probably eat an entire tray of them and still complain you're hungry."

AJ snorted, rolling his eyes. "I mean, you're not wrong, but come on Blair! Don't tell me you weren't disappointed when you picked one up and realized it was basically just air with a sprinkle of salt."

Zuni laughed softly, shaking her head. "True. I'll admit, I did eat a couple of them just because they looked fancy. But you know what really got me? Humbert and Carmine on the dance floor."

Blair perked up at the memory, her smile widening. "Oh my god, yes! Humbert stepped on Carmine's foot during the waltz—was it the third or fourth step?—and Carmine swearing loud enough for everyone within five feet to hear. She said the f word as clear as glass; I will be damn surprised if those people didn't know what it meant."

AJ burst out laughing. "And she wasn't even trying to stay all poised and elegant after that. I saw her looking like she'd rather shove herself onto the orchestra."

"Classic Humbert," Zuni added, chuckling. "He probably didn't even realize what he did until she glared at him."

Blair leaned forward, her grin mischievous. "Oh, but wait—do you remember Capone dragging Caren into the dance? She looked so annoyed, like he'd just asked her to scrub the floors or something."

Zuni laughed harder, nodding. "Caren practically turned into a statue while Capone was spinning her around. She looked like she was calculating the exact moment to 'accidentally' stomp on his foot."

AJ doubled over, holding his stomach. "Poor Capone! He was trying so hard to be all charming and suave, and she was just not having it."

"Capone is a bit of a douchebag after all," Blair added. "So I'd say it was well deserved."

The three of them dissolved into laughter, the tension in the room lifting slightly. For a few moments, it felt like they weren't trapped in a cell awaiting trial but instead back at the gala, surrounded by chaos and absurdity.

As their laughter subsided, Zuni wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her smile lingering. "You know, as stressful as all of this has been, I'm glad we can still find something to laugh about. We're going to need that when the trial starts."

Blair nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah. It's moments like this that remind me we're all in this together. No matter what happens, we'll figure it out."

AJ gave a firm nod, though his usual playful smirk returned. "And hey, if we somehow survive this trial, I say we crash the next gala and demand proper-sized food."

They laughed again, the humor a small but welcome relief as they braced themselves for the challenge ahead. But then, the air suddenly went thick with nervous anticipation as the police arrived outside the shared cell, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. Zuni, AJ, and Blair exchanged uneasy glances, their nerves palpable. The time for the trial was fast approaching, and with it, the looming threat of what might happen if the truth didn't come to light.

The sound of keys jingling and a heavy door creaking open cut through the silence. A few officers stepped inside, followed by a detective who nodded toward the trio with a professional but impassive gaze.

"Alright, you three," the detective said, his voice firm yet neutral. "Time to go. The trial's about to begin."

Blair swallowed hard, her throat dry. She glanced at Zuni and AJ, a sense of foreboding creeping over her. What if the police found out that Ashe, Declan, and Naila had escaped? What if they started putting the pieces together and suspected something was off?

Zuni gave a reassuring nod, seemingly calm despite being accused as the primary suspect in the whole ordeal. "We've just got to get through this. We've done nothing wrong. The truth will come out."

AJ shot a glance toward the officer, his thoughts racing. "Yeah, but do you think they'll notice that Ashe, Declan, and Naila aren't here? They must've seen them leave, right?"

Blair, who had been pacing nervously, looked back at them. "I hope not. They can't possibly have known they escaped, can they? I mean, no one saw them leave the building, did they?"

Zuni shrugged, trying to shake off the worry. "We have to trust that everything is fine. It's not like we're the ones who made the escape. Setsuna and Naila were pretty careful."

AJ's gaze flicked toward the door, his muscles tense as he waited for the officer to call them out. "I swear, if they start questioning us about the others—"

Blair quickly cut him off. "Stop being a paranoid teddy and just go with it. They don't have a reason to think anything is off."

The detective stepped forward with a clipboard in hand, not seeming to notice their unease. "You'll be escorted to the Old Bailey now," he said briskly. "There's no need to talk unless you're asked. Just follow the procedure."

Zuni glanced at the others, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Is it normal for them to be so... calm? They don't seem suspicious at all."

AJ raised an eyebrow. "Maybe that's a good sign?"

Blair gave a slight smile, her nerves finally starting to settle. "Yeah. Let's just take this one step at a time."

As they were led out of the cell, the officers escorted them in a quiet line through the corridors. The police kept a professional distance, their attention more focused on the logistics of the situation than on their prisoners. It was clear the officers had no clue that Ashe, Declan, and Naila had escaped.

"I swear, if they even hint at knowing anything," AJ muttered under his breath, "I'll lose it."

Zuni nudged him gently, her voice low and calm. "Relax. It's all fine. They haven't even looked at us twice."

Blair glanced back to make sure the other officers weren't watching them too closely. "Yeah, it's like they don't even care about us. I guess that's a good thing, right?"

Just as she said that, the officer in the front turned around to make sure they were following properly. "Keep it moving, please," he said in his clipped, professional tone. "We're almost there."

The trio shared one last, lingering glance before continuing to follow the officers. Their hearts still raced with anxiety, but for the moment, at least they weren't being scrutinized.

They made their way through the halls of Scotland Yard, their footsteps echoing as they passed other officers who seemed more concerned with their own tasks than with the group of prisoners being escorted. There was a subtle tension in the air, but nothing that gave away the suspicion Zuni, AJ, and Blair had been dreading.

The police led them out of the building, the cold London air hitting them as they stepped outside. It felt like a brief moment of relief, as if just leaving Scotland Yard meant one step closer to facing the trial—and one step closer to finding out who was truly behind all the chaos.

"So this is it," Blair said softly, her voice a little shaky. "We're really doing this."

Zuni gave her a tight-lipped smile. "We've been through worse. We can handle this."

AJ snorted, shaking his head. "If I had a penny for every time someone said that, we'd be rich by now."

Blair rolled her eyes, but there was a spark of her usual humor in her gaze. "Not rich enough to buy decent food at a gala though, huh?"

Zuni shot them both a playful look, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. "Alright, alright. Focus. We're walking straight into a courtroom. Let's at least make it look like we have our act together."

With that, they followed the officers into the waiting carriages that would take them to the Old Bailey. As the door shut behind them, they looked out the window, trying to stay calm, though the weight of the unknown still pressed down on their minds.

This was it—the trial was about to begin soon.

---

London Outskirts - Team Emerald & Team Midnight - MINOR WARNING

Claudia's hands trembled as she gazed out the window, her voice soft yet laden with sorrow. "The Chancellor… a puppeteer in shadows, pulling strings of deceit. Eclipse, Lady Vivienne's silenced breath, and the chains binding Team Burgundy—all threads in his tapestry of treachery, woven with purpose and ruin."

Carmine, sitting in the passenger seat, crossed her arms, her lips curling into a sneer. "Of course it's him. That slimy bastard. Who else has the power to make all this happen and keep it hidden? You heard how confident he was—he probably thinks he's untouchable."

Humbert, his grip on the steering wheel tightening further, glanced nervously at them. "But why? What's his endgame? Why go through all this trouble?"

Claudia's voice was quiet but resolute, her words cutting through the tension like a blade. "Power is a thirst unquenched, a shadow that swallows all light. Men like him crave it endlessly, leaving ruin in their wake, no matter the cost."

Carmine scoffed. "Let him try. When we expose him, his little empire is going to come crashing down."

Humbert nodded, though his face was pale. "Yeah… sure. If we make it back to Scotland Yard in one piece."

Claudia glanced behind them absentmindedly, and her breath hitched: an ominous vehicle was behind them, tailing too close for comfort. "Humbert! There's a black van tailing us!"

"What?" Humbert yelped, his voice cracking.

Carmine whipped her head to the side mirror and caught sight of the vehicle. Her eyes narrowed. "Step on it, Humbert! Now!"

"I-I'm going!" Humbert stammered, pressing his foot down hard on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, the tires screeching as they sped through the empty streets.

The van didn't relent. It stayed close behind, gaining on them with every second. Claudia's heart pounded as she saw the driver's window roll down. "They're armed!"

A black-clad figure leaned out, his gun aimed directly at their car. A deafening crack echoed through the air as a bullet struck the rear window, shattering it into a spray of glass.

"Shit!" Carmine cursed, ducking instinctively. "Humbert, keep driving! Don't stop!"

"I'm trying!" Humbert cried, panic evident in his voice. He swerved sharply to avoid a parked car, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Another shot rang out, this time hitting the side mirror, sending shards flying. The van was relentless, closing the distance with alarming speed.

Claudia clung to the door, her voice rising above the chaos. "Faster, Humbert! We can't let them catch us!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" he yelled, sweat beading on his forehead.

Before they could react, the black van rammed into the back of their car with a sickening crunch. The impact sent the vehicle spinning out of control. Humbert fought desperately to regain control, but it was too late.

Their car collided with a streetlight and flipped onto its side, skidding to a halt in a shower of sparks. The world blurred, screams and the sound of crumpling metal filling the air.

Then silence, as everything went black.

To be continued…

---

A/N: This was such a brutal chapter to write, holy crap. My anxiety was all over the place as soon I published this thanks to how heavy some of Team Emerald's scenes were. TT There was a heavy scene with Team Midnight but I scrapped it because I think it was unnecessary and due to consent just to be safe. I don't want to end up writing something I'll regret after all lol. Also the violence part was actually toned down a lot in this chapter compared to last chapter... in fact, pretty sure the only violent things about this chapter were the car accident and the Evan/Setsuna fight lol. This chapter we dealt a lot more with... suggestive themes lmao.

---

The Cast of Nights at the Hazy Museum

Team Burgundy: AJ, Ashe, Blair, Declan, Naila, Zuni

Team Emerald: Angie, Carmine, Elisia, Humbert, Mike, Xerxes

Team Midnight: Capone, Claudia, Caren, Evan, Ian, Setsuna

Eliminated: Derek (20th), Ingrid (19th)

Basingstoke: Shreya, Callista, Derek, Ingrid

Museum: Sarika, Seema

Hospital: Shari, Eszter, Attila

---

Next chapter, Setsuna and Naila enter the British Museum together to look for the main headquarters of Eclipse (wonder if they'll meet up with Mike?), the aftermath of Carmine, Humbert, and Claudia's accident, the drama of the much awaited trial, and as always, much more! Will Ashe and Declan replace Carmine and Humbert and defend Zuni, AJ, and Blair? Will Angie get the police to the warehouse in time? And most of all, will they all find the Golden Ring? Next chapter may or may not answer all of that!

Episode 2.4 will be out on Wednesday, January 22nd, PST! Thanks for reading!

~Paranoid Dawn