standing abruptly, the motion sharp and final A saboteur. Fine. We treat her as such. I'll begin patrol sweeps in my sector.

Wait.

The file they showed. The incident logs. They’re redacted. Entirely.

Standard for high-security threats, surely.

Not like this. It’s not names or locations. It’s categories. Motive. Method. There’s a log here for a containment breach twelve years ago. The description field is just blacked out.

leans forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers Maybe she’s just that boring.

adjusts the cuff of his jacket with precise, deliberate movements A non-violent escape from Tartarus is an operational impossibility. The security protocols are… absolute. Unless she had help.

Or the protocols failed.

We are operating on the Commission’s assessment. We must trust it. But… we must also verify. If her quirk is as described—causing systemic failure—our usual tactics may be inadvisable.

cracks her knuckles, a sharp pop in the quiet Who cares? We find her, we bring her in. If she fights, we fight back. Simple.

It’s never simple. Not with a timestamp that old. Not with a childhood containment order.

stretches his wings out slightly, the red feathers brushing the back of his chair Well, sitting here won’t catch her. Commission wants her back in her cage. We’re the bird dogs.

We got a last known location? A pattern? A favorite color? Anything besides a scary shadow and a bunch of black ink?

All relevant data has been distributed to your secure terminals. She was last tracked heading toward the abandoned industrial zone in Ward 7. Satellite coverage is… intermittently unreliable in that area.

How convenient.

So. We splitting up or flying in formation?