DO YOU WATCH THE RAIN?

The home-ec classroom's door was slightly ajar, sending a sliver of ambient light inside the otherwise dim space. Steven, feeling an odd sensation, entered. The aftermath of the recent fire was virtually undetectable, as if time had hurriedly erased its scars. 

As he navigated the room, his shoe nudged against something solid. He looked down to see his phone lying unceremoniously on the floor.

'Funny,' Steven mused, 'I hadn't even noticed it was missing.'

Before he could retrieve it, a faint noise resonated from a room in the back. Mr. Vaughn emerged, engaged in a deep conversation on his phone. Steven's instincts kicked in, pushing him to silently maneuver behind a table, just as he heard the ominous "CLICK!" of the door locking.

['Dieze: Exit: Closed. MISSION: failed!' X]

<Shush… Dieze> Steven signed frantically, annoyance evident in his gestures. He hoped his AI companion could comprehend this.

Steven watched as Mr. Vaughn paced, words from the conversation revealing snippets of a story he never thought he'd hear coming out of a 'chef': "The missing kids? My suspicion grows. This school holds a secret. The timeline of their disappearances? It's chaotic, isn't it? Too intricate for one individual, surely?"

It paused, voice lowering to almost a whisper, "Remember Rain, the boy from decades past? There's an uncanny link, one that can't be ignored. All trails lead to this place..."

"Keep in mind, it's not just this case either. The bodies we find… the Egyptian burials… the targeted k-"

Steven couldn't hear the last word, because he accidentally knocked over a pot, causing it to clang onto the ground.

BANG!

The echoing clang seemed to freeze time for a heartbeat. The room plunged into an eerie silence. Dieze vibrated with a warning signal, an electronic hum barely audible.

Ba-bump… ba-

Mr. Vaughn abruptly stopped speaking, his silhouette stiffening. The dim light framed his face, capturing the rapid shift of his eyes as he scanned the room, attempting to discern the origin of the sound. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

Steven's pulse quickened. He held his breath, hoping against hope that he'd meld into the shadows, unseen and unfelt. He cursed his clumsiness, mentally kicking himself for not being more careful.

Suddenly, the overhead lights flashed on, casting the entire room into stark relief. Mr. Vaughn's eyes darted around, stopping mere inches from where the boy was crouched.

Steven clasped his mouth, hiding behind the counter. His heart pounded loudly in his chest as he waited for Mr. Vaughn to walk away.

One second… two seconds… three-

"You know I can see your shoes, right?" The brown-haired teacher chuckled. 

- 'Ding!'

['Dumb + 2']

<Stop making my dumb stat so high,> Steven muttered to Dieze. Then, he turned around to the teacher, making sure to use his arm to cover his face and to disguise his voice in a monotone-fashion: "Oh wow. You can? Well, I guess I gotta go now, 'Teacher-I've-Never-Seen-Before'." 

He started running forward. 

"Not so fast," Mr. Vaughn smirked. "I know it's you, St-" 

"My name's Calum," Steven told him, shielding his face.

"A name change? How clever." Mr. Vaughn laughed. "Besides, you cooked quite well today… I could… smell it from where I was standing. And your phone… I saw you drop it, by accident…" The corners of his lip turned up, "I think."

"What, you saw me drop my phone and didn't tell me?" Steven blurted out.

"No, I just found it on the ground." Mr. Vaughn grinned. "And it looks like you are Steven."

Dang it… 

Mr. Vaughn took a step closer, the shadows from the dim lights making his eyes look darker. "Did you overhear something you shouldn't have?"

"Um… nothing much, I just heard you talking about the weather, like rain-rain." Steven muttered, brushing the back of his head, silently backing away. 

"So you know about the disappearance?" Mr. Vaughn's voice was calm, almost conversational, inviting, even.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steven retorted, keeping his voice steady. "I've only heard it from your mouth."

"Oh, I think you do," Mr. Vaughn continued, slowly circling Steven like a predator circling its prey. "The way you say his name, Rain. You didn't think I entered the school without doing my research, right?"

"...what?"

"And your family knows about him, too… don't they? Because they were the ones who…" Mr. Vaughn let the words tantalizingly trail off. 

Steven's mouth went dry. "I actually don't know… My family…"

"So.. you know Rain, personally?" Mr. Vaughn raised his eyebrows. "Where? It's been so long ago. A record? A little birdie told you? Or perhaps a dream."

"No, it wasn't a dream! I don't know who Rain is." 

Seeing Steven's discomfort, Mr. Vaughn leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Dreams. Interesting. You see things in your dreams. That's pretty cool."

Was Mr. Vaughn… even listening to any word he said? It was like the man was bull-dozing all over, and jumping to conclusions from little threads. 

Steven hesitated. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ah, but you do," Mr. Vaughn replied. "You're from a dreamwalker… family."

A heartbeat. 

"You dreamt of Rain, didn't you? A young boy who vanished without a trace, only to reappear…"

Steven stared defensively. "No…"

"A dream that has been haunting you." Mr. Vaughn's eyes glinted with… humor. "You're a smart kid, Steven, tell me why you see him…"

['Dieze: Do not answer his questions. He's asking…' X]

Yes, I know…

"I… I don't know anything," Steven dismissed, his voice shaking slightly. "But it doesn't mean anything."

"Or maybe it's a memory," Mr. Vaughn suggested, eyes locked onto Steven's. "But maybe… it's not even yours."

Steven felt his stomach churn. "That's impossible."

Mr. Vaughn chuckled softly. "Is it? Come with me…" 

He motioned for Steven to follow him, leading him to his office behind the home-ec classroom. 

- 'Ding!'

[NEW] LOCATION UNLOCKED! 

Mr. Vaughn's ??? office:

The door creaked open with a slow, deliberate motion, the groan of its hinges echoing lightly in the room. As it fully swung open, Steven was first struck by the sheer disarray. 

The office was a contrast of order and chaos. Piles of paperwork teetered precariously on the edge of the wooden desk, threatening to spill over. Faded folders, some with their edges frayed, lay scattered on the worn-out carpet. The aging beige walls bore marks of years of use, with slight discolorations and faint smudges.

In the heart of this seemingly mundane office stood a significant centerpiece: a large whiteboard that took up a good portion of the wall. It was covered in everyday tasks like "Schedule monthly meeting" to "Review quarterly reports". The whiteboard, itself, seemed nothing out of the ordinary, perhaps even… boring.

But then, with a swift, practiced movement, Mr. Vaughn reached out, grasping the edge of the board. In a flash, he flipped it over. 

Steven's breath caught in his throat. 

The other side: a whirlwind of complexity and intrigue. Maps of various sizes dominated the space, each marked with colored pins, indicating LOC.'s of interest. Articles, some torn from newspapers with their date and source meticulously marked, were pinned alongside glossy photographs of individuals, buildings, and even street corners. There were news clippings that seemed to span various timelines, some yellowed with age and others crisp and recent.

Strings of vibrant colors – reds, blues, yellows, and greens – wove intricate pathways across the board, connecting different pieces of information. Each color seemed to denote a different kind of connection, creating a web of relationships and sequences. In some sections, post-it notes with handwritten annotations clung to the board, providing insights. Hypotheses. 

Guesses. 

Steven's eyes darted around, taking in all the information. It looked like something straight out of a detective movie. But only one word seemed to stand out among the rest… "Is this about Rain?" he asked cautiously.

Mr. Vaughn nodded, pointing to a section of the board. "This is the Queens apartment building, where Rain lived with his ordinary family. Too bad, no one knew what his fate had planned."

Steven squinted at the picture of the apartment building's fire-exit. In many apartments, the fire-stairs were right next to the windows, only secured by a little lock. "At first," Vaughn looked at the picture. "They simply thought Rain had simply ran away from home. But after a closer investigation, the police found this mark," Vaughn finished, "The door was broken from the outside."

"What does that mean?" Steven asked.

Mr. Vaughn looked grave. "Well, the police thought someone kidnapped him… and, of course, if you know what happened after…"

Steven looked at another section of the board. "Are these… sewer people? Aren't those hobos?"

Vaughn's eyebrows furrowed: "You would think that's an urban legend. Sewer people. That decade, tons of people were talking about it. Sightings, here and there from the maintenance crew. Just the homeless living in the sewers, where they sought shelter from the outside weather. But that's not exactly what happened, no…"

"But how do you know this?" Steven interrupted, tracing his fingers down a red string.

Vaughn laughed, "Research. A little… 'Wayback Engine' to delve into old forums, news articles, and personal blogs. The patterns were there for those who looked closely enough." He pointed to various clippings: "Look, some talk about a green moon, causing clouds to look golden. The unexplained blood rain near the city's west end, and a white umbrella that seemed to float down from the air. Or at least, that's just stories right? The sudden bloom of those mysterious silver roses downtown in winter. Interesting occurrences, right?"

"Aren't those just random events?" Steven put on a puzzled look. "And why Rain? Why him?"

Vaughn sighed, "In a world where power is everything, imagine destiny, and an easy, clear cut string…" He sliced the air with his hand, "A boy from a middle-class family in an apartment, oblivious to his fate."

"Fate?" Steven ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything. His eyes drew him to the weird occurrences again: the silver roses, the green moon… "So, these odd events… they're all connected to Rain?"

Vaughn nodded slowly. "It seems so. Look here," he pointed at a blurry image of Rain, last captured on CCTV, following a hooded figure. "This man. He works at Joe's Café, just around the corner. But when the police questioned him, he denied any connection with Rain. Someone vouched that Rain simply walked away."

Steven pointed to another image, "This is Rain's neighbor, right? Why is she relevant?"

Vaughn's eyebrows lifted up, like it was mildly amused, "She admitted to breaking Rain's apartment's fire-exit lock. But she claimed she did it out of worry when she couldn't find Rain." 

Frowning, Steven pointed at another board section filled with photos of young people, "What about these? Friends of Rain?"

Vaughn replied, "Ah, yes. Rain's group of skater friends. Meeting… in the sewers, of all places. But, surprisingly, none of them knew anything about Rain's whereabouts. Except one. One of them saw Rain with an older group of people. The police thought they were traffickers initially."

"But?" Steven prodded.

"But they turned out to be Rain's older sister's college friends," Vaughn smirked, "Another dead end."

Steven let out a deep breath. "Then what actually happened to him?"

There was a heavy pause, the silence filled only by the quiet hum of the woods outside. Vaughn leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Are you sure you want to know? Rain's not the only one it revolves around…"

Steven looked down, his eyes lingering on a weird… little snippet: "9:40 A.M.

Now, your mom is panicking. She starts making phone calls to nearby relatives, searches the entire apartment building and then... and then finally makes one last call. The call rings once and then twice. The last number that any parent wants to call. Your sister runs outside, but the rain is too heavy. It drowns out her calls for your name. Your name doesn't stand out in the rain. It never did."

That was a snippet of his dream… a snippet that had been erased from most places, even his memory. Suddenly it came back to him. Rain, the boy. 

Who had messed with his memory?