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The door clicked shut behind Fane. Zephyr, after regaining his startled senses, looked down at the blade in his hand. Ornate in nature, it was a high-end piece that could only have come from the Prince. He mused for a second before observing the man. Orlov stood unphased after the encounter. Zephyr approached the royal.
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Fane sat in a darkened, freezing corridor at the end of the armoury. The metal bench designated the waiting area for the testing room. The heavy door was the only separation between him and heaven. On the other side lay his set-up, his paradise. It was the one place that he truly felt like the…
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The taxi pulled up to Crystal. A shaft of fear drove straight through Fane’s core. I’m intruding. This isn’t my place and way out of my league.
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Click. The door to the waiting room unlocked. Fane looked up from his fifth round of counting the white speckle dots on the faded, black tile next to his left foot. To his relief, Zephyr popped his head in. “How you holdin’ up, kid?” The man slithered through the door crack and eased into a…
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Faded off white plastic. Rubbing alcohol. Scratchy fabric. “Sergeant Anson?” a female voice crackled over the speaker, pulling him into reality. Fane woke to the inside of a scanning bed, his head strapped into a white cage.
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Of the pair of automatic doors at the clinic entrance, one opened part way and the other twitched, stuck in it’s slide. Zephyr let out a sigh, shoulders sagging. “I swear, we need that funding soon.”
Chapel Orahamm 