Meanwhile, across the city from the soft music of Le Roman to the denser hum of southern Parris, where the air tasted faintly of gasoline and rain soaked pavement.
Here, the streets were narrower, the buildings pressed close together, their plastered walls etched with age and graffiti. Somewhere beyond the maze of apartments, the metallic towers of AXILE Corporation glimmered faintly through the haze, ten minutes away by car close enough to feel its pulse.
Vincent and Oscar stepped off the tram that had rattled them from the city's core, their figures inconspicuous amid the crowd of locals. They were dressed simply worn jackets, backpacks slung low, the image of two young men who had seen better days. The disguise was deliberate.
For hours, they'd blended among the city dwellers, striking up idle conversations with vendors, taxi drivers, and coffee shop owners. Their story was consistent, two students stranded after their visas had issues, short on cash and looking for a place to stay.
To the locals, it sounded like a dozen other stories they'd heard given the present world issue. To Vincent and Oscar, it was the perfect way to gather Intel without alerting the wrong ears.
"Over there," Vincent muttered, nodding toward a small café where a woman in her forties was locking up. Her hair was tied in a neat bun streaked with silver, her eyes sharp but kind.
They approached, playing their parts effortlessly.
"Excuse me, madam," Vincent began with polite hesitation, his accent faint but believable. "We were told you sometimes rent a room to travelers."
The woman studied them for a moment, her brows softening at the sight of their tired faces. "A room, you say? You look like you haven't eaten in hours."
Oscar chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We were hoping to find a place close enough to the industrial side. We heard it's cheaper there even though the smokes and machinery noise might be uncomfortable."
"Just for about a few weeks till things get sought out if you don't mind" Vincent added timidly.
His expression was one which did not match his huge build. Like they say a big strong body but a fragile here she though to herself.
She nodded knowingly, her eyes flicking toward their modest bags. "You're not wrong. City's expensive. I have a spare floor above my shop small but warm."
"Perfect," Vincent said quickly, exchanging a brief glance with Oscar the silent code of success.
The woman led them down a narrow alley, where an old brick house stood behind an iron gate. The scent of fresh bread lingered in the air. She must have baked earlier in the day, at sight a rusted sign by the door read Maison Marielle.
"Here we are," she said, pushing open the door. "Bathroom's upstairs. You can leave your things by the hall. Rent's cheap if you help around the bakery."
Oscar gave her a warm smile. "We'd be happy to."
He turned slightly, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag as he followed Vincent inside and that was when he caught it.
A flash of chrome and black steel gliding past the street corner. A moving truck, unmarked but freshly washed, its logo half-covered by dust.
Oscar's gaze flicked to it just in time to see the back flap lift, and inside, for the briefest second, he saw her.
Rose...or was it a ghost
Her hair was tucked neatly under a beret, her attire refined a cream French ensemble with dark gloves, elegance wrapped in accuracy. She was seated beside two men dressed in black, her expression poised, and straight. The sunlight glinted off the charm bracelet on her wrist that faint metallic shimmer he'd seen once before in a classified photo file.
Recognition struck instantly not vigilance, not fear,just surprise.
He straightened slightly, his eyes following the truck as it turned toward the boulevard that led deeper into AXILE's district. Then, as quickly as it came, his expression neutralized.
No widening eyes, no subtle twitch of tension. Just the same indifferent calm.
Vincent, noticing his pause, turned halfway. "Something wrong?"
Oscar blinked once, adjusting his bag again. "No. Just thought I saw an old brand of truck I used to work on."
Vincent shrugged, buying it easily. "You and your machines."
The lady, Marielle, smiled faintly. "You can tell me about those trucks later. Come in mind you the floor creaks, but it's clean."
Oscar gave a quiet nod, stepping through the doorway.
He thought again how someone who was charred and left half dead fee years back was now in Parris.
And not just passing through embedded like all he knew was fake.
He didn't look back again as the door closed behind him. His eyes were calm, his voice quiet, his movements natural like any other foreigner.