18 '453'

The idyllic setting contrasted greatly with what Falcon was about to do, he thought regretfully, as he parked the truck along one of the white lines. He wondered why 453 had chosen such a place, with no noise and a blissful quiet settled upon the woods.

The spot was a popular picnic site, the greenest leaves he had ever seen decorating the frail tree branches hanging overhead. The rain had washed the world, getting rid of all the filth and the dust, alas, the hearts of the humans remained blotched like their sense of judgment, even after the clouds poured their anger and retreated.

He scooped up the body in his arms, much like a lover would carry their partner, cradling it close to himself as he ducked his head against the breeze and covered the short distance between the parking lot and the woods.

On the opposite side, a row of small, cozy cottages lined up invitingly, and Falcon had the sudden urge to rush inside one and fall on the bed that would embrace him in a warm hug. Fatigue had long since crept upon his mind, and he was solely functioning on determination, reminding himself of the payment he had yet to get. This could be the last robbery you ever do, so buckle up, he reprimanded himself. It was annoying to feel so weak and tired.

It was just after dawn, the day had broken into the bluest sky he had ever set eyes on, the air soft and crisp, filling his lungs with a refreshing sigh. He had been driving all night, at one point turning up the music so high to stay awake that the very glass of the windows had rattled.

The city was yet to wake up, the port sides empty as the boats slept. The bubbling creek met the river, which would soon wake up and the city would jump to life. Hopefully, he would be out of there by then. There was no one around, but he knew early fishermen would be lined along the banks of the river, the roaring of which he could hear from even here, the sound much like a faint radio static. Dawn had brought with it the sweet trilling of the birds, which oddly calmed the frantic pacing of his heart.

The leaves crunched under his feet as he left the trail and jogged deeper into the trees, the already faint light growing fader as the trees thickened. A canopy of sorts was formed by the bigger leaves, allowing only the tiniest of blue light to infiltrate the defense they had set up against the sun.

Falcon knew he wasn't far, as he spotted an old rickety sign pointing north with a straggled arm. The area had been sealed off several years ago and the neglect was showing in the wild undergrowth which kept snatching at his boots. After a few more minutes of jogging, he saw the tiny hut, so broken and battered that Falcon was surprised the walls were able to support the roof. There was a single window at the back wall, and turning around, Falcon saw a small door, small enough that he had to stoop low to go through it.

The sky had lightened a bit, a bit of orange mixing with the blue, creating a pale pink that had descended upon this paradise.

The inside was a bare single room, so empty that it felt naked to Falcon. There was just a single rickety chair in the middle of the room, thankfully with all of its legs standing. He deposited the still unconscious body on the chair and retrieved a long piece of rope from his backpack. He untangled it and looked at the body's face.

Cyan looked oddly peaceful, as if he was sleeping, not drugged, as he fell in a half-awkward bow. Falcon had a twinge of guilt inside his heart, but he dismissed it, reminding himself it was too late to be feeling that now. He swiftly tied up Cyan's arms and legs to the chair. Making sure the knots were strong, Falcon tugged on them one last time and left the hut.

XXX

He felt much like a bird right now, with the sun hot on his neck and sweat dripping down his forehead.

'So this is how you feel,' he said, staring reproachfully at a family of crows that had been staring at him cautiously for the past three hours from the branch next to his, 'this is what it feels like to live in a nest.' His stomach called out to him in disdain, frightening the crows. He hadn't eaten anything, much like he never ate during an assignment, but this one had stretched on and on.

Today, I am leaving with my money and nothing else. He thought.

He had been hiding in the trees since tying Cyan up, a good few meters away from the hut with the door in the line of his sight. He hadn't blinked for fear of missing 453 if he ever turned up. The trees hid him well, not an inch of his skin showing through the canopy of the leaves.

Falcon knew it wasn't just his money keeping him there, the thought of Cyan tied up in the room with the possibility of anything happening to him was keeping him in his spot. If things got worse, at least he could save the poor man. He hoped 453 just wanted ransom and not his life.

Falcon could bet his pistol that if 453 didn't turn up soon, he would fall out from the tree because of dozing away when he heard a rustle. Just a tiny sound, which was gone as suddenly as it had come.

Falcon strained his ears as hard as he could, to catch another sound, while reminding himself that it could easily be a squirrel. It wasn't, as another sound came, this time a snap of a twig, the obvious sounds of a person walking towards the hut. The sounds of footsteps followed, a person walking briskly on the leaves and Falcon tuned into the walk. He didn't dare move, so he couldn't look at them, instead, he listened as hard as he could, even stopping to breathe so he could hear properly.

A figure emerged from under the trees, heading from the groove, covered head to toe in black, hair curled under a cap with a black face mask on their face. They stopped in front of the hut, and he saw the person raise a hand to their face and remove the mask. They turned slightly to see if somebody was behind them and pushed open the door.

When Falcon's eyes fell on the face behind the mask, his heart stopped beating for a whole minute. It was the maid from the hotel, the girl who had called herself Autumn.