Warning - Please proceed with caution in reading this chapter as it will contain the following:
• Violence (throughout entire chapter)
• Minor explicit themes (minor warning)
• Drug/substance use (minor warning)
• Minor/background character death (with description; 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 type of warning. Immediately skip to the next scene if you do not wish to read the scene with the warning, though do take note that there might be gaps in the plot if skipped. TT
Welcome everyone to the next chapter! This one is gonna get… pretty dark, so if dark themes aren't your fancy then… I'm sorry. TT Anyway to those I have sent a PM regarding your OCs, thanks for answering! It really helps me feel somewhat relieved for what I'm about to do to them in this arc. TT (Still anxious btw with this chapter btw, especially the next one TT)
Otherwise, please enjoy! I'll see you all at the bottom!
Disclaimer: Total Drama does not belong to me. The characters seen in this episode belong to their owners.
Episode 2.2: Case of the Gilded Gala
Hospital. Present Day - 6:00 am
Shari's fingers tightened around the blanket as the door clicked shut behind Attila. She turned her head sharply to Eszter, her voice low but laced with fury.
"What the fuck is *he* doing here?"
Eszter's eyes narrowed, and she immediately stood, crossing her arms in a gesture of authority. "Shari, watch your language," she scolded firmly. "You are in no position to speak like that, especially about him."
Shari's anger flared, her face flushing as she glared at her aunt. "Don't tell me what to do! He doesn't belong here! He's—"
"Your father," Eszter interrupted sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "And you have no right to talk about him that way."
Shari's jaw tightened, and she looked away, her body trembling with barely-contained rage. "He's dead to me," she spat, her voice venomous. "He left me and Mom. He left us alone! Do you know what that was like? Do you?"
Eszter exhaled deeply, her gaze softening as she sat down again. "I don't know everything, Shari," she admitted, her voice calmer now. "But I do know that life is rarely as simple as it seems. Whatever happened between him and your mother—"
"Don't," Shari snapped, her voice rising. "Don't make excuses for him! He walked out, Eszter! He didn't care about us, about me. And now, what? He just shows up like nothing happened?"
Eszter's expression remained steady, but a flicker of sadness passed through her eyes. "He's here because he does care, Shari," she said firmly. "He made mistakes—big ones—but that doesn't mean he stopped caring about you."
Shari scoffed, her throat tightening with suppressed emotion. "He doesn't get to just show up now and act like he's some kind of hero. He wasn't there when we needed him."
Eszter leaned forward, her voice gentle but resolute. "People change, Shari. Sometimes it takes them longer than it should, but they can change. I'm not asking you to forgive him right now, or even to understand. But I am asking you to give him a chance to explain himself."
Shari shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I don't want to hear it," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't care what he has to say. He doesn't get to be my dad now, not after all this time."
Eszter reached out, placing a comforting hand on Shari's shoulder. "You're hurt," she said softly. "And that's okay. But carrying this anger won't make it better. Talk to him, even if it's just to tell him how you feel. You owe that to yourself."
Shari didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the wall. The room fell silent, the weight of the conversation settling heavily between them.
Eszter sighed, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "I'll be here if you need me," she said quietly, moving toward the door. She paused before leaving, looking back at Shari with a mix of hope and sorrow.
"Think about it, Shari. You might be surprised at what you learn."
As the door clicked shut behind Eszter, the silence in the hospital room felt almost deafening. Shari sank back into the pillows, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, each one colliding into the next without resolution.
Her thoughts began to unravel in fragments.
He doesn't care. He never cared.
But then, why had he shown up? Why had he looked at her the way he did—like he was sorry? Like he regretted something? Shari bit her lip, trying to push the image of Attila's face out of her mind.
No. He doesn't get to feel bad now. He wasn't there when it mattered.
Her mother's exhausted face flashed in her memory—how Sarika had worked tirelessly, juggling her responsibilities to keep everything afloat after he left. There were nights Shari could hear her crying in her room, but when morning came, Sarika was composed again, doing her best to pretend nothing was wrong.
Mom didn't need him. And neither did I.
But then, there were the gaps—moments she couldn't ignore. The times when she'd sit by the window, watching other kids with their dads, and wonder why hers wasn't there. The nights when she'd stare at her mother's weary figure and think, It's not supposed to be like this. He's supposed to help.
She clenched her fists, anger bubbling up again. Why now? Why did he have to show up now, when everything was already a mess?
And yet... there was something in his eyes. Something she couldn't quite place. A flicker of something raw and real.
Regret? Guilt?
She hated how it made her feel—how it chipped away at the walls she'd built to keep him out.
I don't care, she told herself again. But the words felt hollow, even in her own mind.
Her thoughts shifted to Eszter's words. "Talk to him, even if it's just to tell him how you feel."
Could she? Would it even make a difference?
A small part of her, buried deep under the layers of resentment and anger, wanted to know. She wanted to ask why. She wanted to understand. But the larger part of her—the part that still stung with the memory of abandonment—couldn't bear the thought of letting him back in, only to be hurt again.
She exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes to stop the tears from falling.
Why did he have to come back? Why couldn't he have just stayed gone?
But even as she thought it, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, soft and uncertain.
What if he's changed? What if he really does care?
The thought terrified her more than anything. Because if it were true, then everything she believed about him—everything she'd used to keep herself strong—might crumble.
Shari shook her head, trying to silence the inner turmoil. But the conflict wouldn't go away. It gnawed at her, relentless and unforgiving.
For the first time in years, she didn't know what to think.
Basingstoke, Present Day - 9:40 am
The car came to a slow stop in front of a quaint, somewhat rundown house at the edge of town. The garden was overgrown, with plants spilling out of flowerbeds as if neglected for years, and the peeling paint on the house's exterior added to its timeworn appearance. It was clear this wasn't your typical clinic. Derek shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he turned off the engine.
"Here we are," he said, looking up at the house with a mixture of reluctance and uncertainty.
Callista, her hands still tightly gripping Shreya's arm, glanced around. "This is it?"
"Yeah," Derek replied, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Dr. Cresswell's place. But like I said, he's not a typical doctor, so... just be ready for anything."
Callista nodded, though her worry was clear in her eyes. She gently shook Shreya's shoulder, trying to rouse her friend, but Shreya remained unresponsive. "We don't have much choice," Callista murmured.
Ingrid, sitting quietly beside her, simply nodded and stared at the house, her expression unreadable as usual.
They got out of the car, with Derek leading them toward the front door. He hesitated briefly before knocking, his hand still lingering on the wood for a moment.
Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing an older man with a gruff expression. His hair was disheveled, his shirt untucked, and his face was etched with frustration.
"What do you want?" the man snapped, his tone blunt.
Derek immediately recognized him as Dr. Cresswell, though the man's unkempt appearance and grumpy demeanor were worlds apart from what Derek had expected. "Dr. Cresswell, I—"
"I'm not a doctor anymore," Dr. Cresswell interrupted, his voice sharp. "I've lost my license. Now go away and find someone else." He started to shut the door in their faces.
Callista's heart sank. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, the door abruptly stopped moving. Someone had reached out from behind, pulling it open with a gentle force.
A young woman stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with concern. She had soft brown hair tied back into a loose ponytail, and her expression was far more sympathetic than her father's.
"Don't help them, Gracella," Dr. Cresswell called out harshly. "Let them find a real doctor."
"Father," Grace said, her voice firm but kind, standing her ground despite her father's objections. "You can't just turn them away. They need help." She turned to Callista and the others, her face softening. "Please, come in. I'll help."
Dr. Cresswell glared at his daughter, his frustration palpable. "I told you, you don't know anything about medicine. They'll be better off seeing a real professional."
Grace's gaze hardened. "You may not be a doctor anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't help. You're not the only one who knows how to treat people, Dad."
Dr. Cresswell growled in response but didn't argue further, instead walking away into the house. His frustration seemed to simmer beneath the surface, though it was clear he wasn't going to be convinced.
Grace turned back to Callista and the others, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry about him. My father... well, he had a lot of patients who he couldn't help in time, and it destroyed him. He lost his license after that." She sighed, looking back at the door where her father had gone. "But I can help. Just not the way he did."
Callista felt a sense of relief, but it was tinged with concern. "Can you really help her?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at Shreya, still limp in her arms.
Grace nodded. "I'll do everything I can." She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But you'll have to follow me. We'll have to go to the backyard. It's quieter there, and I'll have more space."
Without waiting for a response, Grace stepped aside, opening the door wide. Callista hesitated for only a moment before gently picking Shreya up and following her inside. Ingrid trailed behind, her silent presence adding to the tension in the air.
The house, although charming in its own way, felt heavy with the history that lingered in the walls. Grace led them through a dim hallway and out the back door, where the overgrown garden seemed to encroach upon the house itself. It was a strange contrast to the neatness of the interior, a place that somehow felt both peaceful and isolated.
"Please, sit here," Grace instructed, gesturing to a worn wooden bench beneath a flowering tree. She pulled a small bag from her pocket, revealing a collection of basic medical supplies—bandages, antiseptic, and other tools.
Callista gently laid Shreya down on the bench, her worry and confusion deepening as she watched Grace begin to examine her friend. "What... what happened to him? Your father, I mean. Why did he lose his license?"
Grace didn't look up from her work as she cleaned Shreya's forehead with a damp cloth. "He lost too many patients, and there were too many mistakes. People started to notice. He tried to fix things, but the damage was already done." She paused, glancing up with a soft smile. "But I won't make the same mistakes. I'm not him."
Callista took a deep breath, her mind spinning with the weight of what had happened. "I just need her to be okay," she whispered. "I don't know where else to turn."
Grace's eyes softened. "I'll help her, I promise. But we'll need to take it slow. She's weak from exhaustion, and whatever's happened to her mind… that will take time to heal."
With that, Grace focused her attention on Shreya, working quickly and carefully. Ingrid stood by, her arms crossed, observing the scene with a quiet intensity while Derek had a look of concern on his face.
And as the morning sun began to warm the backyard, Callista felt a strange sense of hope settle into her chest. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Gilded Rose Ballroom, London, Year 1960, Team Burgundy & Emerald - HEAVY WARNING
The host's voice rang out again. "And now, a treat for the evening! Lady Vivienne Rousseau will perform for us, a piece to accompany our waltz. Please, welcome her to the stage!"
The orchestra began the opening notes of Puccini's O mio babbino caro as Lady Vivienne stepped onto the stage. Her voice soared through the room, clear and hauntingly beautiful:
"O mio babbino caro,
mi piace, è bello, bello;
vo'andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l'anello…"
The crowd was entranced, their movements slowing as the melody filled the room. Zuni danced gracefully with the Chancellor, her smile radiant as they waltzed through the space.
But as Lady Vivienne's voice reached its peak, the tension in the room seemed to thicken. The figures outside moved closer to the windows, their presence more noticeable now. AJ stepped away from the window, his expression grim as he rejoined his team.
And that was when the lights turned off and everything faded to black.
The lights flickered back on, illuminating the scene of chaos. The once-glamorous ballroom was now a site of horror as gasps and screams echoed through the space. Lady Vivienne Rousseau lay crumpled on the floor, her golden gown soaked with blood.
The Chancellor knelt beside her, his face pale and grim, barking orders at his aides. The orchestra members, frozen in shock, clutched their instruments as if for protection.
Blair covered her mouth, her eyes wide in terror. "Oh no. Oh my God—she's dead."
Naila grabbed her arm. "Holy crap, we really are doomed—"
AJ's gaze darted around the room, his hands clenched into fists. "E-Everyone, stay calm!" He nervously said to his team. "We need to figure out what's going on and if this is real or not!"
Zuni, standing just feet from Lady Vivienne's body, was pale, her hands shaking as she stared at the lifeless figure. "I didn't… I didn't…" she whispered, her voice breaking.
Before anyone could respond, the sound of boots echoed through the ballroom as armed agents from Interpol and Scotland Yard began pouring into the venue. Their presence was immediate and commanding, shouting for everyone to stay where they were.
"Freeze! Nobody move!" an authoritative voice boomed as the agents quickly took control of the room.
Team Burgundy and Team Emerald exchanged worried looks as the agents began methodically moving through the crowd.
"W-what the hell is happening?" Declan froze, glancing nervously at Ashe.
Ashe's face was just as nervous, but his voice was low and steady. "Stay calm. Don't make sudden moves."
As the police closed in, one of the lead agents pointed at Zuni. "You. Step forward."
Zuni's eyes widened as she shook her head. "Wait, no! I didn't do anything!"
"You were the closest to the victim," the agent said coldly, gesturing for two officers to detain her. "You are officially under suspicion for the murder of Lady Vivienne Rousseau."
Blair stepped in front of Zuni instinctively, her voice sharp. "What? No! She didn't do anything! She was dancing with the Chancellor—"
"And the rest of you," the agent interrupted, pointing at AJ, Ashe, Declan, Blair, and Naila. "You were all near the accused. We have reason to believe you may be accomplices."
"What?! That's insane!" Naila protested, stepping forward, only to be restrained by two officers.
"T-this is clearly some sort of mistake!" Declan shouted, struggling against the officer holding his arm. "We didn't do anything wrong!"
"Calm down, Declan!" AJ hissed, his voice shaking but trying to stay composed.
Blair's jaw clenched as two officers cuffed her hands. "You're making a huge mistake," she said, her voice icy.
Ashe didn't resist but glanced at the others with a grave expression. "Let them talk. They'll probably figure out the truth."
Meanwhile, Team Emerald stood frozen in shock as they watched their castmates being detained. Humbert gritted his teeth. "Guys, they're leaving!"
Angie turned to Mike, her voice low but frantic. "What do we do?"
"We wait," Mike replied grimly, his eyes darting between the agents and their castmates. "Anything we say now could make it worse."
Carmine's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene, her hands twitching at her sides. "Something just isn't right. This is too convenient."
Elisia instantly turned pale. "They'll be okay, right? They'll explain everything?"
"I don't know," Xerxes admitted, his voice tight.
The ballroom was now under lockdown, with officers sealing the exits and ushering other guests into separate areas for questioning. Zuni and her teammates were led out of the room in handcuffs, their desperate protests drowned out by the commanding voices of the authorities.
The grand ballroom, once vibrant and alive, was now steeped in tension and fear as the investigation began.
The Chancellor stood near the front of the ballroom, his face dark with displeasure. His voice cut through the tense murmurs of the crowd.
"A lockdown? In my gala?" he growled, addressing the lead investigator. "This is an insult! Do you have any idea how this will affect my reputation!? Handle this matter swiftly, or you will have a lot to answer for!"
The investigator, unmoved by the Chancellor's ire, replied curtly, "With all due respect, Lord Edrich, there has been a murder, and protocol demands a lockdown. We need to ensure the safety of everyone here and apprehend any potential suspects."
The Chancellor's scowl deepened as he turned away, his gaze falling on the ballroom filled with murmuring guests.
"This is really bad," Mike muttered, his arms crossed tightly. "They've taken all of Team Burgundy, and Zuni's their prime suspect."
Angie adjusted her gown, her voice sharp. "Yeah, no kidding. And while they're wasting time locking us all down, the real culprit could be getting away."
Humbert looked around nervously, his hand clutching at his waistcoat. "We can't just stand here. They need us!"
Xerxes's eyes narrowed as he followed the movements of the officers. "They're being taken somewhere. Scotland Yard, most likely."
Carmine, leaning casually against a pillar, gestured toward one of the officers. "Look at their uniforms. Scotland Yard insignia. That's where they're heading."
Mike suddenly spoke up, his voice firm. "Then we need to go after them. They're our allies."
"And how do you propose we do that, genius?" Angie said, folding her arms. "The ballroom is on lockdown, and those cops are everywhere."
"We can use the crowd," Mike suggested, glancing around at the nervous guests. "Blend in, wait for a distraction, and slip out. Once we're outside, we follow them."
Angie gave him a skeptical look. "Oh, sure. Easy. Just sneak past Interpol and Scotland Yard like it's nothing."
"It's better than standing here doing nothing," Mike shot back.
Elisia looked to Xerxes, her voice hesitant. "What do you think?"
Xerxes tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "We go. But we do it quickly and without mistakes. If we're caught, we'll end up like Team Burgundy—or worse."
Humbert nodded, his large frame stiff with determination. "Then it's settled. We're going!"
Carmine smirked slightly. "Guess it's time to see if all this sneaking around has been worth it."
The team quickly scanned the ballroom for the best escape route, their eyes falling on the side doors where officers had entered and exited.
Mike motioned toward the nearest exit. "That's our way out. Wait for my signal."
The team moved closer together, blending into the crowd, their movements deliberate but unassuming as they prepared to slip out unnoticed.
Gilded Rose Ballroom, London, Year 1960, Team Midnight
The team moved swiftly through the quiet halls of the Gilded Rose Ballroom, their heels clicking faintly on the marble floor. The distant hum of the orchestra playing in the ballroom provided a strange backdrop to their clandestine mission.
"We need to be quick," Capone whispered, his voice low but commanding. "We don't have time for mistakes."
Claudia, leading the group, turned her head slightly. "The stars guide us to where we need to be, Capone. Rushing will only tempt fate."
He rolled his eyes but said nothing, knowing better than to argue with her cryptic remarks.
The door to the Archival Materials Room creaked slightly as they pushed it open. Inside, the room was dimly lit, shelves towering above them, filled with stacks of documents, books, and storage containers.
Caren frowned, scanning the room. "Great. A needle in a haystack."
Evan smirked, his eyes scanning the shelves. "Relax. We'll find it."
Setsuna ran her fingers along the spines of a row of binders. "Look for anything sealed or unusual. That's our target."
As the group fanned out, Evan's sharp gaze caught something unusual on the topmost shelf in the corner. "Hey, I think I found something," he called, pointing up.
The others turned to see a sealed binder on the tallest shelf, its glossy surface reflecting the dim light.
"Of course it's up there," Caren muttered.
Evan, ever agile, scaled the shelf with ease, pulling the binder down. As he slowly descended back to the floor, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.
"What the—?" Capone hissed.
Two gunshots echoed through the halls, startling the group.
Claudia's calm voice cut through the tension. "The night reveals its secrets in chaos. We must act swiftly."
Caren took charge. "Everyone, out into the hall. Guard the entrance. Evan, secure the binder and don't leave until you've got it."
Evan nodded, his face serious. "On it."
The five exited the room, spreading out strategically near the door to guard the hallway, their senses on high alert.
…
The hallway was eerily quiet several minutes later, save for the muffled screams and murmurs of the crowd in the ballroom. Ian's brow furrowed as he looked toward the door of the Archival Materials Room.
"He's taking too long," Ian said, his voice tinged with concern.
Capone crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "Let him work. He knows what he's doing."
Ian shook his head. "I'm checking on him."
Without waiting for a response, Ian pushed the door open and slipped inside. The dim light flickered, casting strange shadows on the shelves.
"Evan?" Ian called softly.
At the far end of the room, Evan stood with the binder in his hands, his back to Ian.
Ian approached, his footsteps soft on the tiled floor. "What's taking so long? And… why does that binder look like it's been opened?"
Evan turned, his expression unreadable. "I found it like this."
Ian's eyes narrowed. Despite his often carefree nature, a flicker of suspicion crossed his face. "That doesn't make sense. This stuff was supposed to be sealed."
Evan shrugged, holding the binder up. "Maybe it wasn't sealed properly?"
Ian studied Evan carefully, his gut telling him something was off. "You sure about that?"
Evan met his gaze evenly. "Yeah. I'm sure."
Ian hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, putting all reservations aside. "Alright. Let's just get out of here before things get worse."
The two of them exited the room, the tension between them palpable.
Little do they know that there was a mysterious figure watching them from the other side of the room.
The group moved quickly through the quiet corridors, the sealed binder tucked securely under Evan's arm. The air felt heavier now, a stark contrast to the festive atmosphere earlier. Caren led the way, her sharp eyes scanning ahead for any signs of trouble.
"Keep it quiet," she whispered, her voice low but firm.
Claudia glanced over her shoulder, her tone poetic yet tense. "The whispers of the night warn us to tread carefully. Shadows have sharp ears."
Capone smirked slightly, despite the gravity of the situation. "Noted. Let's move."
As they approached the exit, faint sounds of shouting and commotion echoed through the hall. They all froze.
"What's going on?" Ian whispered, leaning toward the sound.
Evan frowned. "Doesn't sound like the party's wrapping up."
Setsuna motioned for them to stay low, her voice barely audible. "This way."
They crept toward the noise, peering around a corner. The sight before them made them pause. Scotland Yard officers and Interpol agents stood in formation, detaining six individuals—Team Burgundy. Zuni looked defiant, while Ashe seemed pale and unsettled. Naila, despite being cuffed, loudly protested.
"You're making a mistake! That's my partner you're dragging off! Let her go!"
"Stand down!" one of the officers barked, pulling Naila back as she struggled.
Blair and Declan exchanged worried looks, their attempts to reason with the officers drowned out by the chaos. AJ stood apart, his gaze locked on the scene, his jaw clenched.
Evan's eyes widened. "What the hell is this?"
Caren grabbed his arm, pulling him back from the corner. "Keep your voice down!"
Capone glanced at the others, his expression grim. "Looks like they're in deep trouble."
Ian's usually cheerful demeanor faltered as he whispered and pointed towards their uniforms, "They're taking them to Scotland Yard, aren't they?"
Claudia nodded slowly, her voice calm but ominous. "The path ahead is clear. If the tides have turned, we must follow."
"They've got Zuni, and the rest of their team," Setsuna said, her tone sharp. "They're treating them as suspects."
Caren motioned for the group to retreat. "We can't stay here. If they see us, we're next. We're following them to Scotland Yard."
Evan hesitated but finally nodded, gripping the binder tightly. "We stick together. Let's go."
The team moved back into the shadows, their footsteps silent as they followed the detained Team Burgundy and the escort of officers. The festive air of the Gilded Rose Ballroom was gone, replaced by a growing sense of dread.
The night air was cool and crisp as Team Midnight made their way out of the venue, sticking to the shadows to avoid being noticed. They stepped out into the quiet street, the distant hum of the city's nightlife faint against the rising tension. Their eyes immediately locked onto the scene ahead—Scotland Yard officers, their police cars flashing with lights, speeding off with Team Burgundy in tow.
"We've missed our chance to confront them inside," Capone muttered, his sharp gaze fixed on the departing convoy. "But we're not losing them now."
Ian's expression was hard to read, but there was a flicker of urgency in his eyes. "Are we seriously going to just follow them?"
Setsuna's voice was calm but filled with purpose. "We don't have a choice. If they're headed to Scotland Yard, we're going with them."
Evan scanned the street ahead, then spotted something that could help. "Look. There. That old car."
He pointed to the 1960s classic car parked by a dimly lit alley. The vehicle was a sleek black beauty, its curves smooth and timeless, an unmistakable symbol of elegance from the past. It looked like it had seen better days but was still in remarkably good condition.
Capone's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Perfect."
He approached the car with quiet confidence, checking the locks and windows. Within moments, Capone had managed to break into the car with a practiced ease, his fingers working deftly as he slid into the driver's seat. The others followed quickly, squeezing into the vintage vehicle. Capone and Caren sat up front, while Claudia, Ian, and Setsuna took the back. Evan, with the binder still in hand, took a spot in the middle, trying to make himself as small as possible.
"Everyone in," Capone said, his voice low and focused as he started the engine. The car hummed to life, the sound of its engine a low growl as Capone expertly navigated it into the street.
"Keep low," Caren advised, her eyes scanning the rearview mirror. "If they notice us tailing them, we're done for."
"Don't worry," Capone said, a smirk forming on his lips as he turned the wheel smoothly. "We'll blend in. I know how to keep a low profile."
The car sped off into the night, weaving through the city's winding streets and following the trail of flashing police lights. The occasional siren wailed in the distance, but they kept a safe distance, making sure not to draw attention to themselves. As they approached a major intersection, the headlights of the police cars up ahead illuminated the road.
"We're closing in," Capone murmured, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. The streets grew quieter the further they drove, as they neared the outskirts of the city. The pace of the police convoy was steady, the cars seemingly unaware of their pursuers.
"Just keep your cool," Ian said, a note of excitement in his voice. "We're not letting them get away that easy."
Capone gave a small nod of agreement, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the road ahead. "This is it. We're not losing them."
Gilded Rose Ballroom, London, Year 1960, Team Emerald
The team moved quickly down the hallway, following the sound of the police cars that had sped off into the night. Mike led the group, his eyes darting between the corners as they made their way toward the exit, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor.
"Stay close, we can't afford to get split up," Mike said, his voice low but tense.
Xerxes nodded, his eyes scanning ahead, his normally stoic demeanor faltering just slightly. "Something doesn't feel right."
Carmine shot him a glance. "What do you mean? The whole thing's been off since the lady got shot."
Mike didn't respond, his expression tight with focus. They rounded a corner and stopped dead in their tracks.
The lights flickered, then suddenly went out.
"Not again," Humbert muttered, his large frame tense as he reached for Carmine. "Stay close."
For a moment, all that could be heard was the collective breath of the group. The silence stretched on, oppressive and heavy.
Then—BANG.
The lights flared back on, too sudden, too bright. Shadows seemed to stretch across the walls like claws reaching for them.
And standing before them, blocking the hallway, were the figures in black.
"Shit," Carmine hissed, stepping back instinctively. Her eyes widened. "This isn't happening."
The figures were tall, their forms draped in black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind dark masks. They moved with the precision of trained soldiers, closing in with unnerving speed.
Angie stepped back, her hand instinctively moving to her waist where her usual tools should have been—only to remember that she hadn't brought any weapons.
"Who the hell are you?!" she yelled, her voice sharp with defiance.
One of the figures stepped forward, his voice cold, detached. "No one you need to know."
Before anyone could react, the figure lunged forward and grabbed Angie by the arms, yanking her off her feet.
"LET ME GO, ASSHOLE!" Angie screamed, struggling in the figure's iron grip, her voice rising in panic. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
"ANGIE!" Mike shouted, his heart hammering in his chest. He darted toward the figure, but another man stepped in his path, blocking him with ease. "NO!"
"Mike, get back!" Xerxes called out, his usually calm voice tinged with panic as he tried to push past the figure that blocked him. "Move!"
But it was too late.
Another figure had grabbed Elisia, lifting her off the ground with terrifying strength.
"AAAH LET ME GO!" Elisia screamed, her voice frantic, her body struggling helplessly. "HELP ME! PLEASE!"
"LET GO OF HER!" Xerxes shouted, his hand reaching out desperately, but his voice was barely audible over Elisia's scream.
Carmine's anger flared, her temper igniting. "YOU BASTARDS!" she screamed, charging forward and throwing a punch at the closest figure.
But her fist was easily caught, and with a quick twist, she was spun around, her back slamming against the wall with a bone-jarring force.
Humbert roared in fury, his face twisted in a mixture of confusion and rage. "LET THEM GO!" He lunged toward the nearest figure, but the person was faster, sidestepping and kicking him back into the wall with a brutal force.
Mike gritted his teeth, his voice sharp. "Angie! Elisia! Hold on!"
The figures paid no attention to their words, moving with swift, practiced motions. They held tight to their captives, each of the two girls struggling helplessly in their grip.
"We're not here for you," one of the masked figures spoke, his tone even, almost bored. "So keep quiet."
Xerxes, who had been trying to reach Elisia, looked more desperate than ever. His calm demeanor was slipping for the first time since meeting them, and his eyes were wide, filled with an unfamiliar emotion. "Let go of her," he repeated, his voice now trembling. "Please."
But his voice fell on deaf ears. The figures continued their unrelenting hold on Angie and Elisia, ignoring every plea, every scream.
Caren's voice rang out from the other hall, just barely audible, "We need to move! The police are getting away!"
They could hear Team Midnight rushing from the other hall, they now know where they are, but they were chasing the police. Team Emerald had someone else. But even as the rest of them were about to charge forward, the figures were already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor with Angie and Elisia in tow.
The last thing Mike heard was Angie's voice, muffled but still clear: "Help…!"
And then the hallway fell silent again.
Mike stood frozen, his hands still outstretched toward the spot where Angie and Elisia had been taken. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if trying to catch up with the terror coursing through him.
Xerxes stood beside him, equally still, his eyes dark with worry. He didn't say a word, his jaw clenched tight, fist white-knuckled at his side. The calm exterior that he usually projected was gone, replaced by a raw, visible panic.
"They… they just took them…" Mike muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His voice was hoarse, the weight of defeat hanging heavily between them.
Xerxes didn't respond immediately, staring ahead, lost in thought. His voice, when it came, was quieter than usual, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of something. "We won't let them get away with this."
Humbert, who had been standing a few steps behind, placed a firm hand on both of their backs. His touch was heavy, solid—like a weight anchoring them back to reality.
"Guys," he said, his tone softer but still laced with urgency. "We can't stand here all night. We've gotta move."
Carmine, who had been standing off to the side, her fists clenched, her mind working furiously, suddenly snapped her fingers, gaining the group's attention.
"I've got it," she said, her voice sharp and determined. "Mike, Xerxes, you two need to go after them. I know you're both torn up right now, but we have to move quickly. You're the closest, and if we wait any longer, those bastards are gonna be long gone."
Xerxes looked up, meeting her gaze, and while his face was tense with worry, there was something resolute behind his eyes. "You're right."
Mike turned toward the others, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. "We can't let them get away. We'll find them. I promise."
Carmine nodded. "You two go after them. Head for wherever they're hiding—don't let them get out of your sight. Keep in contact, but don't waste time. Go now."
"Right," Mike said, his voice tight, his hands clenched into fists as he turned on his heel. Without another word, he took off down the hallway, Xerxes right behind him.
Carmine turned toward Humbert, who had been watching the scene unfold with a somber expression. "We're going to Scotland Yard, tree trunk. We need to find out what the hell is going on, and fast."
Humbert nodded, his expression hardening. "Let's move."
Carmine shot a look toward Mike and Xerxes as they disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. "We'll meet up again. This isn't over."
With that, they turned and moved quickly toward the exit, their pace quickening as they passed the last few corners. Time was running out, and the lives of their friends were at stake.
And in the distance, the sound of distant sirens pierced the night.
Scotland Yard, Year 1960, Team Burgundy
The cold air hit Team Burgundy like a shock as they were hauled from the police cars and marched into the holding cells of Scotland Yard. The lights above flickered, casting eerie shadows across the hallway. AJ's hands were shackled, his face pale with anxiety. Declan walked beside him, trying to keep his usual composure, but the nervous energy radiating off him was undeniable.
Naila, though trying to remain calm, couldn't hide the worry in her eyes. "Don't worry, guys," she said in an attempt to comfort the group, her voice a little too bright. "We're not guilty. This will get sorted out."
Ashe, staying silent for now, observed the surroundings. He noticed how the guards' steps echoed in the hall and how the cold, sterile atmosphere of the cells did nothing to ease the tension in his chest.
Blair, however, wasn't having it. Her hands were already tugging at the cuffs, trying to free herself as the officers shoved her into a cell. "This is bullshit!" she spat, trying to struggle free. "You can't just lock us up like animals. We didn't do anything!"
The officers didn't respond, only tightening their grip on her, tossing her into the cell with more force than necessary.
"Calm down, Blair," Declan muttered under his breath. His brow furrowed, unable to mask the fear crawling under his skin.
Blair snarled in response, "Calm down? You've gotta be kidding me. We're being framed!"
Naila couldn't help but glance over at Zuni, who was being led into a separate cell further down the corridor. She was eerily quiet, her face ashen. Despite her calm demeanor, Naila could see the tension in her shoulders and the way she stiffened when the door clanged shut behind her. The sight made her heart ache.
"She didn't do it…" Naila whispered to no one in particular.
Zuni caught his gaze, her eyes a mix of fear and resolve. She remained silent but nodded, almost imperceptibly. She wasn't the type to show emotion, but the fear was clear in her features.
The officer guarding the hall turned to address them, his voice cold and official. "You're all being charged with the murder of Lady Vivienne Rousseau. Miss Zuni Flores is the primary suspect, and the rest of you are accomplices."
Blair, hearing the words, suddenly whirled on the officer, her voice shrill. "We already know that, you moron! You told us back at the ballroom!" She slammed her fist against the bars of her cell. "We didn't do anything! This is ridiculous!"
AJ and Declan exchanged a nervous look. Ashe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Naila's attempt at comfort seemed to fall flat in the face of their grim situation.
The officer turned away without another word, leaving them in the cold, dimly lit corridor. A silence fell over the group, the weight of the charges hanging heavy on their shoulders. AJ sighed, his shoulders slumping as he sank to the floor of the cell.
"I know it's not right," he said, his voice softer now. "But we're not giving up, right? We'll figure this out."
Declan nodded weakly, though he couldn't shake the feeling that they were all stuck in something much bigger than themselves. He paced, his mind clearly running through possible escape plans, but with the officers guarding the cells, it seemed impossible.
Ashe, ever observant, looked through the bars of his cell, trying to figure out the layout of the building. He had the distinct feeling they weren't just locked up for a murder charge. Something else was at play here, and he didn't like the way it felt.
Blair's voice cut through the silence again, harsh and full of anger. "We didn't kill anyone! We have no reason to! You think we'd just walk into a gala and randomly decide to murder some opera singer? It's preposterous!" She turned to AJ. "Please tell them, AJ! You saw everything, those guys in black out of the window! We're being set up!"
AJ just ran his hands through his hair, his nerves finally starting to catch up with him. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to scream at the injustice, but something about the whole situation felt too controlled, too calculated.
Meanwhile, in her separate cell, Zuni remained composed but was deeply unnerved by everything happening around her. She knew their predicament was grim. Being the primary suspect didn't bode well. Still, she clung to the hope that they would find a way out—somehow.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall outside, but it didn't make them feel any less trapped. The silence continued to weigh heavily on them, even as they sat together in their cells.
Several minutes passed in tense silence before the sound of footsteps echoed again, this time accompanied by the clanking of keys. The officer returned, standing in front of the cells with a clipboard in hand. "You have a visitor," he announced flatly. "But only one of you can go."
The group exchanged looks, unsure of who it could be. "Who?" Blair asked, her voice laced with frustration.
The officer didn't answer, only scanning the group before his gaze settled on AJ. "You. Come with me."
AJ's heart skipped a beat. "Me?" he asked, but his voice was tinged with uncertainty. He knew this wasn't a friendly visit.
The others nodded silently, knowing it made the most sense. AJ had been the one to see the figures in black. It seemed like their best shot to figure out what was going on.
With a resigned sigh, AJ stood, stepping away from the cell. He glanced at his teammates one last time before the officer led him down the corridor. The weight of the situation hung heavy as he was taken further away from the others, his mind racing with questions.
Scotland Yard (Visiting Room), Team Burgundy
AJ followed the officer down a long, dimly lit corridor, his nerves fraying with each step. When they reached the visitor's room, he was surprised to see Team Midnight waiting for him. Relief washed over him like a wave, his shoulders sagging as he stepped forward.
"You're okay!" AJ exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly as he saw Capone, Claudia, Caren, Ian, and Setsuna.
Setsuna was the first to approach him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her normally playful demeanor was replaced by concern. "We're fine, but what happened? Where's the rest of your team?"
AJ's expression darkened. "They're all in the cells. Lady Vivienne Rousseau was killed during the gala. Zuni's being blamed because she was closest to her while dancing with the Chancellor. And because the rest of us were nearby, we're being called accomplices." He paused, his voice trembling. "But it doesn't make sense. We all know Zuni didn't do it. Why would anyone commit murder during a challenge? It's absurd!"
Caren frowned deeply, her arms crossed. "That's ridiculous. They have no solid evidence, do they? Just proximity?"
"Exactly," AJ said, his voice rising in frustration. "It's insane! They're just looking for someone to blame. Why don't they investigate those weird guys in black hanging around outside the ballroom?"
"Wait, guys in black?" Setsuna asked.
Claudia, standing slightly behind the others, spoke softly, her voice carrying a poetic cadence. "Justice, once blind, now fumbles in the dark. It seeks not truth but a scapegoat to ease its conscience. This isn't fair to Zuni—or any of you."
Ian scratched his head, his brow furrowed in thought. "So, uh, they just threw all of you in the slammer without a second thought? That's... kind of bad police work, right?" His attempt at seriousness was undermined by his slightly confused expression.
AJ nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Exactly. We didn't do anything. I mean, sure, we were there, but so was half the gala!"
Capone leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Typical. This is just like Budapest all over again. Remember that? Seema and Sarika throw us into chaos, and we're left cleaning up the mess while they hide behind their magic."
"Capone!" Caren snapped, her voice sharp. "That's enough. This isn't about Budapest! We need to focus on getting Team Burgundy out of this mess."
Setsuna chimed in, trying to keep the peace. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time, okay?"
AJ, still reeling, hesitated before asking, "Wait... where's Evan? Isn't he with you?"
Caren answered, "He's bringing confidential files to the main office, as Seema and Sarika instructed us. He should be there by now."
AJ's eyes lit up with an idea. "Then why don't we just tell Seema and Sarika to stop this? They're the ones in charge, right? They can fix it!"
Ian perked up, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, they're the big boss ladies. Magic and all. They can snap their fingers and—poof—problem solved!"
Setsuna shook her head, her expression serious. "It's not that simple. We don't have Seema's magic to contact them. Only they can reach out to us."
Capone chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Convenient, isn't it? They set the stage, let the drama unfold, and then disappear when things get messy. Sounds like their MO to me."
"Stop it, Capone!" Caren interjected, glaring at him again. "This isn't about them or your conspiracy theories! Again, we need to focus on helping AJ and his team. That's our priority."
AJ, his nerves fraying, glanced around the group. "What about Team Emerald? They were with us at the gala. Have you seen them?"
Capone's grin faded slightly as he looked at Caren. Claudia answered instead, her voice soft but laced with unease. "Team Emerald has vanished into the tapestry of this night, their fates uncertain. We haven't seen them since the lights went dark."
AJ's heart sank. "Great. Just great." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "What do we do now?"
Before anyone could answer, the officer returned, his tone curt. "Time's up. Let's go."
AJ looked back at Team Midnight, his desperation evident. "Please... help us."
"We will," Caren said firmly, her voice steady. "We'll figure this out."
As AJ was escorted back to his cell, Team Midnight exchanged worried glances. The night's shadows had deepened, and the threads of their mission were unraveling faster than they could sew them back together.
Scotland Yard (Main Office), Team Midnight - MINOR WARNING
Evan was walking down the corridor toward the visitor's room, still processing everything that had happened. He had just come from the main office, where he'd delivered the files, but now his thoughts were scattered. He had hoped to see Team Burgundy and Team Midnight—there was so much to explain, so many things that didn't add up.
As he approached the door to the visiting room, something unexpected happened. Before he could reach the door, a hand shot out from behind him, pulling him into a dark, narrow side room. He barely had time to react before the door clicked shut behind him. His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively tried to struggle free.
The figure that had grabbed him was wearing the same dark, black uniform and mask as the ones AJ had seen earlier, but he never knew that. Evan's eyes widened in panic.
"Who are you?" Evan demanded, trying to back away, but the figure stepped forward, pushing him back with a gloved hand on his chest.
"You don't need to know who I am," the figure said, its voice cold and distorted, like it was coming from somewhere far away. "What you need to do is tell me everything you read in that binder. Everything."
Evan's heart raced. He couldn't let this person know about the contents of the binder—whatever it was they were after, it was too important. He gritted his teeth, standing his ground. "I won't tell you anything."
The figure tilted its head slightly, then, without warning, produced a small needle from its pocket. "Then I'll make you talk."
Evan's eyes widened. He tried to back up, but the figure was too fast. It grabbed his arm, and before he could react, the needle was plunged into his skin.
The pain was sharp, and then it was gone. The figure released him, stepping back as Evan stumbled, the effects of the drug quickly kicking in. His vision blurred, and a dizzying wave of confusion washed over him. He tried to fight it, but his body felt heavy, his mind clouded.
The figure waited, silent, as Evan's mind became more fogged with the drug. After a few seconds, Evan's lips parted, and the words spilled out uncontrollably, though he couldn't understand why.
"Everything… the binder… everything about it…" Evan mumbled, his voice shaky and distant. He didn't even realize what he was saying, the words flowing from his mouth like a leak in a dam. He couldn't stop.
The figure nodded, listening intently, but not reacting, as Evan spilled everything he could remember from the binder—the names, the dates, the secrets he wasn't supposed to know. It all tumbled out like an avalanche, too fast to process.
Once Evan finished, the figure stood silently for a moment, then nodded again, as though satisfied with the information it had extracted.
"You did well," the figure said, its voice still cold and devoid of emotion. "Now, go."
Evan's legs felt weak, but he managed to stay upright. The drug still clouded his mind, but he could feel his body slowly returning to its senses as the figure stepped aside, allowing him to leave. He turned, unsteady on his feet, and stumbled back down the corridor, his head spinning with the disorienting effects of the drug.
As he walked away, he couldn't remember everything he had said, but the uneasy feeling settled in his gut. He wasn't sure who he had just spoken to—or why they were so interested in the binder—but one thing was for sure: things had just taken a dangerous turn.
Gilded Rose Ballroom (Parking Lot), Team Emerald
Carmine and Humbert hurried out of the Gilded Rose Ballroom, scanning the dimly lit street for any cars that could be their ticket to Scotland Yard. The cool night air hit them as they rounded a corner, their shoes scuffing against the cobblestone.
"Here," Carmine said, spotting an old 1960s car parked by the curb. They ran quickly towards it, Carmine's heels clicking against the pavement. Humbert was about to head for the driver's side, but she stepped in front of him, holding her hand out.
"I'll drive," she declared firmly, pushing past him.
Humbert raised an eyebrow, his massive frame looming over her as he protested, "But... I can drive, Carmine. I'm—"
Carmine didn't even give him a chance to finish. "You can sit in the passenger seat, and find something useful," she said, already yanking open the driver's door.
Humbert, slightly taken aback, reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat, mumbling under his breath. "Probably gonna crash into some tree—"
"What?"
"Uhh nothing!"
As she started the car with a quick twist of the key, Humbert rifled through the glove compartment. His fingers brushed against a map of London, neatly folded but showing some wear from time. "Found it!" he exclaimed, holding it up for her to see.
Carmine shot him an amused glance before refocusing on the road. "Good. Let's get to Scotland Yard."
The car rumbled as they made their way through the streets, Humbert looking over the map with an earnest concentration that only half masked his nervous energy. He wasn't used to being in this kind of situation, but he'd always had a knack for figuring things out.
After a few minutes of silent driving, Humbert's eyes flicked to something shiny hidden in the backseat. Reaching over, he carefully picked up what appeared to be a lawyer's ID, along with a pin and credentials. His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "Hey, Carmine," he called out. "Take a look at this."
Carmine spared him a quick glance before returning her focus to the road. "What is it?"
"It's a lawyer's ID… and there's a pin too. Maybe the car owner's a lawyer; they might be also a guest at the gala," Humbert said, turning the items over in his hands.
Carmine's grip on the wheel tightened slightly, and her thoughts seemed to shift gears. "Hmm, interesting," she said flatly, as though the pieces were slowly falling into place. She glanced at the map. "Let's just hope we don't get caught by the cops first."
Humbert looked at her for a moment, particularly at her blazer, then slowly came to a realization. "You know, Carmine, you've got it all. Brains, guts… you could probably defend Zuni and the rest of Team Burgundy in court."
Carmine shot him a sharp look. "That's insane, Humbert. I'm a tracker, not a lawyer."
"You're resourceful," Humbert pressed, his voice hopeful. "You could do it. We could win this."
She gave him an incredulous look, her fingers tapping the steering wheel. "Winning? You think we can win a court case out of nowhere with just a pin and an ID? What, are you going to become my legal assistant?"
Before Humbert could respond, Carmine's attention faltered just for a split second. The car swerved sharply to the left, and with a screech of tires, they collided with a tree. The impact wasn't severe, but it was enough to knock both of them forward, the car jolting to a sudden stop.
Carmine let out a loud curse, her hands gripping the wheel. "Dammit, Humbert! You jinxed it!"
Humbert, still half in shock, laughed nervously, rubbing his head. "Hey, I didn't mean for that to happen. But, uh, if you're gonna defend Zuni, you gotta think quick."
Carmine took a deep breath, shaking her head as she carefully put the car in reverse to extricate them from the tree. "You really think you can be a legal assistant, huh?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You're lucky this isn't a worse crash."
"Sorry!" Humbert said, raising his hands in defense, his tone genuine. "I didn't mean to upset your drive."
Carmine just snorted. "Just keep your head on straight. Let's get to Scotland Yard before I decide to drive us right into a bigger mess."
Humbert chuckled awkwardly, trying to make himself useful by keeping an eye on the map again. "Right, got it. That's what you get anyway for calling me a tree…"
"What?" Carmine muttered, accelerating forward.
…
Around a few minutes later, Carmine slammed the car into park with a little too much force, muttering curses under her breath as she got out. She adjusted her blazer, taking a steadying breath, before walking around to the other side to open the passenger door for Humbert. "Alright, grab the ID and pin. We've got work to do."
Humbert nodded eagerly, fumbling for the items, then trailing after her as they walked toward the building. They tried to maintain composure as they approached the entrance, Carmine showing the police the lawyer's credentials, almost shoving them to his face.
The officer on duty raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. "Who are you here to visit?"
"Zuni Flores," Carmine answered, her voice firm. "We've been hired to help her."
The officer nodded, but his gaze lingered on them for a moment, as though there was something… off. He motioned for them to follow him. "Very well, Mr. Alcott. Follow me."
"Mister?" Carmine looked confused, flipping the ID and scanned the picture and name. She quietly hissed under her breath. "Shit, this lawyer's a guy?"
Humbert silently gasped. "What?"
"What the fuck, Humbert? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you already looked at it before we got here!" Humbert whispered, panicking. "Plus he kinda looked like you!"
"The fuck— I was driving!" Carmine glared.
"Everything alright?" the police officer turned back, asking them with a subtle mixture of concern and suspicion.
Carmine did not hesitate to lie around. "Well, yes. I am Mr. Alcott's subordinate, Carmine McGregor. Mr. Alcott has entrusted me with his ID while I wait for my new one. I unfortunately lost it during my previous case." She clapped Humbert's lower back. "And this here is my legal assistant, Humbert Hugh."
"Humph." Humbert corrected.
"Humph." Carmine scowled.
The police continued to eye them carefully, but then he let out a chuckle. "Very well then, allow me to lead you to the visiting room either way."
"Thank god he's stupid," Carmine quietly muttered.
As they moved through the hallway toward the visiting room, the sound of shuffling footsteps ahead caught their attention. Turning the corner, they found Evan—he looked off, his usually sharp eyes dulled, a slight sway in his step. He was drugged, his face pale.
"Evan?" Humbert called out, worry creeping into his voice.
Carmine grabbed his arm, steadying him. "What the hell happened to you?" she demanded.
Evan blinked slowly, his lips curling into a tired grin. "I'll explain once we get to the visiting room," he murmured, his voice slurred.
The trio continued to the room, entering just as Team Midnight looked up. Relief flooded their faces at the sight of Carmine and Humbert, but the relief was short-lived as they noticed Evan's condition.
"Is he… okay?" Setsuna asked, stepping forward, concern etching her features.
Carmine placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Evan. "Explain. Now."
Without waiting for Evan to speak, Setsuna carefully helped him to a chair, kneeling down in front of him. "Evan, what happened? We need to know."
He blinked slowly again, trying to focus. "I was on my way here... then I got pulled into a room by one of those figures in black. They... threatened me to tell them everything that was in the binder." He shook his head, a slight frown forming. "But why would they even ask that when I don't even know what's in it?"
Ian, who had been standing near the window, raised an eyebrow, his usual ditzy demeanor fading slightly. "You didn't open it?" He shook his head in confusion, nobody heard him so he kept quiet. Something didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Carmine felt a sudden chill crawl up her spine as the pieces clicked into place. "Figures in black," she murmured under her breath, the realization dawning on her.
Capone leaned forward. "What's wrong, Carmine?"
Humbert's face fell, and he stepped closer to the group. "Those same figures in black. They took Angie and Elisia during the gala... Mike and Xerxes are going after them right now."
A heavy silence settled in the room. Team Midnight exchanged shocked and uneasy glances.
"What!?" Caren gasped. "You've gotta be kidding."
Carmine exhaled sharply, her thoughts racing. "There's no mistake. They were the ones in the ballroom, and now they've taken them. Whatever this is, it's bigger than we thought."
As the weight of the situation hung in the air, a guard appeared at the door, his voice breaking the tension. "Miss Flores is being questioned. You'll have to leave now."
Claudia, who had been quiet until now, spoke, her voice calm yet deeply contemplative. "It's all connected," she murmured, the words rolling off her tongue like a prophecy. "The frame on Team Burgundy, Angie and Elisia's kidnapping, Lady Vivienne's death, the gala... the Golden Ring. It's all one twisted web we've been trapped in. We're just a few steps away from understanding it, but not quite enough to see the whole picture."
Carmine frowned, her eyes narrowing as she processed Claudia's words. "I don't care what it's connected to," she said coldly, her voice fierce. "We need to get Team Burgundy out of here."
Setsuna stepped forward, her gaze soft but determined. "We'll get them out. But we need to move fast."
Ian glanced around nervously. "Do you think we can pull this off?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.
Capone threw his arm around Ian's shoulders, offering a rare grin. "We don't have a choice. We get them out of here, and then we figure out the rest."
Carmine turned her attention to Evan, who was still slumped in the chair, his eyes heavy. "You come with us. We'll make sure you're okay. But you owe us answers when we get back." She turned her focus back to the others, her jaw set in determination. "We've got to make our next move."
The guard motioned again, reminding them that it was time to go.
Gilded Rose Ballroom (Outside), Team Emerald
As Mike and Xerxes rushed out of the Gilded Rose Ballroom, the atmosphere in the air felt tense, both of them desperate to find Angie and Elisia. As they neared the edge of the venue, Xerxes spotted something from the corner of his eye: a familiar shape perched on the side, looking down at them with sharp, calculating eyes.
Petra, the falcon.
Xerxes raised his hand slightly, signaling her to come to him. "Petra," he whispered in a low, authoritative tone.
The falcon took flight and landed lightly on Xerxes' arm, her eyes bright and alert.
"Ἀκολούθησε τους σκιώδεις φιγούρες," Xerxes commanded in Greek, his voice firm yet controlled. "Και εγώ και ο Μάικ θα σας ακολουθήσουμε." (Follow the shadowy figures, and Mike and I will follow you.)
Petra tilted her head slightly before launching herself into the air, her wings beating rhythmically as she soared into the darkening sky. Xerxes watched her intently for a moment before turning to Mike.
"We've got a lead. Let's go."
Mike nodded, his jaw set in determination. He quickly found a car parked on the side of the venue, slipping into the driver's seat after skillfully opening the lock. Xerxes followed, his mind still on the figures who had taken their friends. Mike turned the extra key he found in the ignition, and the engine hummed to life. Without a word, they drove off, the car's tires screeching slightly as they sped down the road, following Petra's path.
The drive was filled with a heavy silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Mike focused on the road, his grip tight on the wheel, while Xerxes kept his eyes trained on the falcon, who circled above them, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. The city lights flashed by, but neither of them paid attention to the scenery; they were too absorbed in the task ahead.
After a few minutes, Mike finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with concern. "You know… back there, with the others… I saw you. When the other guy grabbed Elisia... you seemed… desperate." He glanced at Xerxes, unsure if he wanted to press the issue. "I've never seen you like that before."
Xerxes didn't immediately respond, his face unreadable. But after a moment of quiet contemplation, he turned slightly to Mike, his gaze unwavering. "What is Angie like to you?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Mike raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. But he chuckled softly, the answer coming easily to him. "Angie? We only got to talk to each other during this challenge, but she's like a little sister to me. Always chaotic, proud, completely unpredictable. You know, the kind of person who'll get into trouble just to prove a point." He grinned, glancing at Xerxes. "Totally different from my girlfriend, but I like her. She's… well, Angie."
Xerxes didn't say anything, his face still stoic. He nodded once, as though processing the answer. The car sped on, the city lights now a blur outside the window.
After a few moments, Mike's curiosity couldn't be contained any longer. "What about Elisia?" he asked, his tone a little more serious now. "What is she like to you?"
Xerxes' expression flickered, but only for the briefest of moments. He answered without hesitation, though his voice was steady, almost detached. "We're close friends," he said simply.
Mike looked at him with a raised brow, clearly not buying the explanation. He glanced over at Xerxes, noting the subtle change in his expression. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, a teasing edge in his voice. "Because I saw the way you looked at her back there, even during the waltz. It didn't seem like just 'friends'."
Xerxes' gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, though his jaw was tightening slightly. He said nothing for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. Finally, he spoke, but his tone was heavily guarded. "I don't talk about my personal feelings, Mike."
Mike let out a low chuckle, but there was no mockery in his voice. "Alright, alright. I get it. I won't push." He glanced back at the road, a somber expression overtaking his face once again. "But we need to get to them, Xerxes. Angie, Elisia… They're counting on us."
Xerxes nodded, his hands gripping the seat slightly tighter. "We will," he said simply, his voice resolute. The drive continued, the tension between them hanging heavy in the air, but the need to find their friends kept them both moving forward, determined and focused.
The falcon suddenly banked sharply, descending toward a nondescript building on the outskirts of town. From their vantage point in the car, both tensed when they saw several figures dressed in black slipping into the building through a side entrance.
"There they are," Mike muttered, his voice filled with urgency. He parked the car in a shadowed area across the street and killed the engine. "But where are Angie and Elisia?"
Xerxes scanned the area intently, his sharp eyes narrowing. His hands gripped the edge of his seat, knuckle white. He didn't reply immediately, but the tension in his body spoke volumes.
Mike frowned, his voice dropping low. "You think they're inside? Or... do you think those bastards already—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Xerxes cut him off sharply, his tone colder than usual. His jaw was clenched, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his usual calm demeanor crumbling ever so slightly.
Mike exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay. But we need to figure this out fast. If they're in there, they could be in danger."
Xerxes nodded but kept his gaze fixed on the building. "If they've hurt them…" His voice trailed off, and he straightened in his seat, his gloved hands curling into fists.
Mike glanced at him, noticing the tension radiating from his usually composed teammate. "Hey, Xerxes," he said softly, his usual teasing tone replaced with concern. "We'll get them back. But we've gotta stay smart about this."
Xerxes didn't answer, his focus locked on the entrance where the figures had disappeared. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Petra can scout the building. If there's any sign of them, she'll find it."
Mike nodded, watching as Xerxes raised his arm, signaling Petra. The falcon circled the building once before vanishing into the shadows.
Minutes passed, each one feeling like an eternity. The silence between them was heavy with worry, the weight of Angie and Elisia's absence pressing hard on both of them.
"What if we're too late?" Mike finally said, breaking the quiet, his voice betraying the fear he was trying to suppress.
"We're not," Xerxes said firmly, his gaze never leaving the building. But his rigid posture and the subtle shake in his hands betrayed the same fear Mike was voicing.
Both sat in tense silence, waiting for Petra to return, their minds racing with worst-case scenarios. Every second that passed felt like another step closer to losing their teammates, and the thought was unbearable.
?, Team Emerald - MINOR WARNING
Angie and Elisia struggled against the black-clad figures, throwing punches and kicks as they tried to break free. Angie fought with a fury, her fists landing blows on the figures who were too strong to stop. She snarled and cursed at them between breaths, a defiant spark in her eyes.
"Come on, you overgrown idiots!" Angie spat, her voice thick with anger. "Is this really how you want to play?"
Elisia, on the other hand, struggled with a quieter resolve. She tried to maneuver her body, but the figures were relentless. Every time she tried to fight back, they swarmed her, pushing her to the ground. She didn't cry out, but the pain was evident in her eyes. Her body ached, and the force of the blows was starting to take its toll.
One of the figures grabbed Angie by the arm, yanking her back, while another pinned Elisia to the ground. "Stop resisting," one of the figures growled, his voice muffled behind the black mask.
"Go to hell!" Angie screamed, kicking out and landing a blow to one of their stomachs.
But it was no use. The figures slammed both of them to the floor, overwhelming them with their strength. Angie tried to fight more, but the figures' strikes hit harder, knocking the breath out of her. Elisia gasped in pain as she was roughly pulled up by her hair, her body too bruised to put up much of a fight.
With a swift motion, the figures tossed them both into a dark, damp room, the door slamming shut with a loud bang. They both groaned in pain as they hit the cold concrete floor. Elisia winced as she adjusted herself, the cuts and bruises already beginning to form across her skin.
Angie lay there for a moment, catching her breath, before she slowly sat up. "Well, that was fun," she muttered sarcastically, her voice laced with frustration. She looked over at Elisia, her eyes softening. "Hey, you okay?"
Elisia didn't say anything at first. She just nodded, her breath shaky as she gingerly touched her bruised ribs. She clenched her jaw, her face pale but composed.
Angie, despite her own pain, couldn't help but try to lighten the mood. "What happened to all your food metaphors, huh? You're not cooking up any ideas to get us out of here?"
Elisia smiled weakly at the joke, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She took a deep breath, glancing around the cold, dimly lit room. "I think I've run out of ingredients for this recipe," she replied softly, trying to hold onto some semblance of normalcy despite the fear creeping into her chest.
Angie winced as she got to her feet, but fell back down again to the floor, gritting her teeth through the pain. "Well, I'm not letting these assholes win," she said firmly, though the worry in her voice betrayed her tough exterior.
Elisia nodded, though she was clearly frightened, her hands trembling slightly. She wanted to believe that everything would be okay, but in that moment, the fear was impossible to ignore. They were both trapped, and the silence in the room made it feel even more suffocating.
"Just hold on," Angie murmured, her tone softening for a brief moment. "We'll get out of here. We have to."
Elisia sat silently for a moment, her mind racing despite her exhaustion. She pressed a hand to her ribs again, wincing slightly, and then glanced at Angie, who was laid flat in the small space.
"I might have an idea," Elisia said hesitantly, her voice low.
Angie sat up and turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? Let's hear it."
Elisia hesitated, her fingers nervously fidgeting with a loose thread on her dress. "We could try to escape. But it's risky, and I'm not sure it'll even work…"
Angie smirked, despite the situation. "Risky is better than sitting here waiting for whatever they've got planned."
Elisia nodded, though doubt clouded her expression. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I noticed earlier... the hinges on the door. They're a little rusted. If we can loosen them—"
Angie didn't wait for her to finish. She was already moving toward the door, inspecting it. "Rust, huh? Good eye. Got anything sharp on you?"
Elisia shook her head, but she searched the room quickly, her gaze landing on a small, jagged metal shard sticking out of the wall. She pulled it free and handed it to Angie. "This might work."
Angie got to work immediately, scraping at the hinges. The sound of metal against metal was faint but sharp, and both women kept glancing nervously at the door, expecting someone to burst in at any moment.
After what felt like an eternity, the bottom hinge gave way, and the door creaked slightly. Angie grinned triumphantly, but Elisia quickly shushed her. "Quiet! They might hear us."
With one more careful push, the door loosened enough for them to slip through. Angie peeked out first, scanning the hallway. It was dimly lit and eerily quiet. She nodded to Elisia, and they stepped out cautiously.
As they crept through the hallway, Angie's eyes caught something unusual on the floor. A feather. She picked it up, frowning. "What on earth is this doing here?"
Elisia's eyes widened in realization, her hand flying to her mouth. "That's Petra's feather," she whispered urgently. "Xerxes' falcon. Our team must be here!"
Angie's expression brightened for a moment, but her relief was short-lived. A noise behind them made her freeze. She turned her head slowly, her stomach dropping as she saw one of the black figures stepping out of the shadows.
"RUN!" Angie hissed, grabbing Elisia's hand and pulling her down the hallway.
Their footsteps echoed as they sprinted, their breathing heavy with both effort and fear. Elisia stumbled slightly, but Angie steadied her, refusing to let go.
"Faster!" Angie urged, her voice strained.
But their luck ran out. More figures emerged from the shadows, and before they could react, one of them lunged forward, grabbing Elisia. She cried out in pain as the figure's grip tightened.
"Angie!" Elisia screamed, struggling against the figure's hold.
Angie turned, eyes wide with fury. "Let her go!" she shouted, charging at the figure, but another intercepted her, slamming her into the wall.
Elisia was dragged down the hall, her screams echoing as she was carried and thrown violently into a room far from where they came from. She hit the ground hard, groaning as pain shot through her body.
"Elisia!" Angie screamed as well, her voice breaking. But before she could do anything, she was grabbed and shoved into another room, the door slamming shut behind her while she landed with a sickening thud.
Both were left alone, separated, their cries and groans of pain the only sounds filling the cold, dark corridors.
Scotland Yard (Cells), Team Burgundy - MINOR WARNING
Zuni sat in the cold, dimly lit cell, her hands folded in her lap. Her mind raced with thoughts of what had just transpired. She had been dragged into this mess—accused of murder, implicated alongside the rest of Team Burgundy. She could hardly grasp the situation, but one thing gnawed at her, something that felt… off.
The door to the cell clanked open, and in stepped the figure she immediately recognized—the Chancellor. The same man who had danced with her at the gala. His dark, immaculate suit gleamed under the dim light, his expression as unreadable as it had been during their waltz.
Zuni's heart skipped a beat. Something wasn't right. She could feel it deep in her gut. Was this really the Chancellor? The same man who had danced with her earlier, with grace and elegance? But now, standing before her in this cold, sterile room, he seemed almost… different. His presence was unnerving, somehow more distant and colder than it had been at the gala.
"Miss Flores," he greeted her smoothly, stepping closer. His voice was low and controlled, but Zuni couldn't shake the unease crawling up her spine.
Zuni took a deep breath, her gaze meeting his, but she couldn't quite bring herself to speak. She wanted to ask so many things—about the gala, the accusation, everything—but the words were caught in her throat.
He stood too close for comfort. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to keep her composure.
"You've been a very difficult woman to understand," the Chancellor continued, his voice tinged with something darker now. "Not that it matters. You'll understand soon enough why you're here."
Zuni's mind raced. "Why me?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. "Why did you pick me from the audience at the gala? We have no connection. You could've picked anyone."
The Chancellor's lips curled into a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You don't need to understand everything. Just know that you're more important than you think."
Zuni frowned, feeling her unease grow. Something about this wasn't right. His words sounded rehearsed, but the way he was looking at her made her skin crawl. She forced herself to hold his gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness.
"And what about the others?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "My team... are they okay?"
The Chancellor's smile flickered for a second, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Your team is... under control," he said, his voice a little too calm. "But you should worry more about yourself, Miss Flores. You seem to be more of a distraction than a solution."
Zuni's heart raced. This wasn't the man she had danced with. This wasn't the graceful, kind Chancellor she had met earlier. This was someone else—someone colder, more dangerous. Her instincts were screaming at her. Was this a poser? Someone impersonating him?
But before she could voice any of her thoughts, the Chancellor stepped closer, his gaze briefly lingering on her, a touch too long. She felt a cold shiver crawl up her spine as his eyes scanned her from head to toe, a strange intensity behind them.
He raised a hand and reached toward her burgundy off-shoulder gown, his fingers brushing the fabric at her sleeve as though testing the boundary of her patience.
Zuni's breath hitched, and she recoiled instinctively. When his hand tugged lightly at the edge of her gown, she acted without thinking. Her arm shot up, and she violently swatted his hand away, the force of her action echoing in the small room.
"Don't touch me!" she snapped, her voice sharp and unwavering, though her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes burned with defiance as she glared at him, her hands now clenched into fists.
The Chancellor froze, his smile faltering for the first time. For a moment, his mask slipped, and something darker flashed in his eyes—something predatory. Then, as quickly as it appeared, his composed demeanor returned. He straightened, brushing off the rejection as if it were inconsequential.
"You've got fire," he murmured, his voice now low and tinged with something menacing. "I admire that. But don't let it consume you, Miss Flores. Fire can burn its wielder."
Zuni glared at him, her breathing uneven, but she refused to back down. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice firm despite the fear coursing through her veins.
The Chancellor didn't answer. Instead, he gave her one last, lingering look before turning on his heel.
"You'll understand in time," he said, his tone devoid of warmth as he exited the room.
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Zuni alone once again. She slumped back against the wall, her body trembling as she replayed the encounter in her mind. Who was that man? Was he really the Chancellor, or someone masquerading as him? And what did he mean about her being important?
She couldn't shake the feeling that everything was unraveling. The pieces weren't fitting together, and the more she tried to make sense of it, the more confusing it became. And the Golden Ring… what was its connection to all this?
Her team—AJ, Ashe, Blair, Declan, Naila—they were all in danger. She had to believe they'd get out of this, but doubt gnawed at her, and fear clawed at her chest.
Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill, Zuni clenched her fists tighter. She wouldn't let them win. She had to stay strong, for her team's sake. For her own.
As Zuni sat in her cell, the faint echoes of her team's whispers reached her ears. Blair, from the adjacent cell, was pacing back and forth, her rebellious energy evident even without seeing her. AJ and Declan sat close together, whispering nervously, while Ashe leaned against the cold bars, his usual self-doubt clear in his slouched posture. Naila, meanwhile, was humming softly, her tune ominous and laced with words about doom and fate.
Suddenly, a familiar and unsettling presence filled the room. Two distinct voices spoke directly into their minds.
"Team Burgundy, your mission is to escape this mess." The voice of Seema was clear.
Sarika echoed, her voice commanding. "The Golden Ring holder is closer than you think."
Zuni's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing at the cryptic message. But before she could fully process it, Blair let out a bitter laugh from her cell.
"Again?!" Blair snapped, her voice rising. "We're stuck in a mess of another painting because of you two—just like that Budapest fiasco! What do you expect us to do this time? Conjure up some miracle?"
The voices didn't respond, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake.
AJ swallowed hard, his nervousness evident. "Maybe... maybe they're right. If we don't do something, we're doomed."
Declan nodded reluctantly, though his hands trembled as he gripped the bars. "We have to get Zuni out first. She's the one they're targeting."
"Right," Naila chimed in, her tone unusually cheery despite the dire situation. "Doom and death await us if we sit here, sooo... why not try? What's the worst that could happen? Oh, wait—death!"
"Not helping, Naila," Ashe muttered, though he couldn't hide the small smirk tugging at his lips.
Blair huffed. "Fine. We're doing this. We get Zuni out, then we all make a run for it. Got it?"
A murmur of agreement passed between them.
…
They moved into position. The shared cell worked to bend the edges of the weakened bars at the bottom corner, using a piece of loose metal they'd found under the cot. Blair, in her adjacent cell, fiddled with a loose hinge on her door.
AJ was sweating profusely, his breath shallow as he muttered, "This is a terrible idea, this is a terrible idea."
"Stop saying that," Ashe whispered harshly, trying to steady his friend's nerves.
Declan's hands shook, but he managed to loosen the final bolt on their cell's bottom hinge. With one last push, the corner of the bars bent enough for them to slip through. One by one, AJ, Ashe, Declan, and Naila squeezed out, keeping as quiet as possible.
Blair's door creaked loudly as it swung open, and she froze, her breath hitching.
"Move!" Ashe hissed.
Blair darted out, motioning to the others. They crept toward Zuni's cell. Blair handed AJ the piece of metal.
AJ's trembling hands struggled to work on Zuni's lock. "Why me?" he whispered.
"Do it!" Blair frantically whispered.
"Don't worry AJ, we trust you," Zuni said softly, her calm voice grounding him.
Finally, the lock gave way with a satisfying click. Zuni stepped out, her gaze filled with determination.
"Let's go," Blair said urgently, leading the way.
They darted down the hallway, their hearts pounding in unison. Every sound felt amplified—the squeak of their shoes, the soft clank of their chains, the distant hum of the building.
Just as they reached the outer hallway, the sound of heavy boots echoed.
"Stop right there!" a guard bellowed.
"Crap," Naila muttered.
Panic surged through them. Blair turned on her heel, ready to charge the guard, but Zuni grabbed her arm.
"No," Zuni said firmly. "We need to stick together."
The guard advanced quickly, his flashlight beam slicing through the dim corridor. One by one, the team was rounded up, their attempts to resist futile.
The guard shoved them back into their cells, locking each door with a resounding click. "You're lucky I don't file more charges against you," he growled.
Blair slammed her fist against the bars. "Let us out, you coward!"
The guard smirked. "Your trial will be on the day after tomorrow. And don't worry, you have a lawyer. Though, looking at you lot, I doubt they'll do you much good."
As he stomped away, a heavy silence fell over the cells.
"Who... who's going to defend us?" Declan asked nervously, his voice trembling.
AJ crossed his arms and leaned back against the bars. "No clue," he muttered. "But they better be good. Otherwise, we're screwed."
To be continued…
A/N: Wow holy crap, this was such a doozy to write. I know jumping from one scene to another is hard but this one was something else lol. Also I'm pretty sure you guys can figure out which scenes had the most revision. TT Although I am quite okay with this one now, the original warning scenes were a teensy bit too extreme so I went for a more subtle approach. This and 2.3 are literally the chapters that I'm worried about the most, haha.
Thanks for reading! As always, let me know what you think!
The Teams 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, Grace
Museum: Sarika, Seema
Hospital: Shari, Eszter, Attila
Next chapter, Zuni and the rest of Team Burgundy will find out who are defending them, Carmine, Humbert, and Team Midnight are going to split the tasks for the investigation, the rest of Team Emerald's quest to bring back Angie and Elisia, Shari confronting Attila, and as always, much more!
There's going to be… more dark stuff in the next chapter, but I'm giving you guys a week to breathe in before we even go there because believe me, I've been holding my breath since I uploaded this lmao. TT God I sound like a worrywart… anyway this arc is one of the main reasons why I upped this story to M lmao.
Episode 2.3 will be out on Wednesday, January 15th, PST!
~Dawn
