The morning steam hissed through the pipes of Flywheel City as the sun glinted off brass rooftops and iron walkways. The city stirred with its usual rhythm—slow, heavy, mechanical, and loud.
In his dim apartment, Detective Hugo Arc buttoned his coat, wrapped his white scarf around his neck, and placed his clockwork top hat atop his silver-white hair. His red eyes flicked toward a checklist he'd scrawled across a torn notebook page:
Report to the Lawkeeper Station.
Brief Charlie Luciano.
Meet Vex at the Noir Emporium.
Efficient. Focused. Mechanical.
He turned to the door—but didn't get a step in before a voice broke the silence.
"Hey, old man," Jack yawned from the hallway. "We're coming with you."
Hugo paused. Slowly turned. Jack stood at the threshold, arms crossed, Steven right behind him, already munching on a piece of toast. Rae emerged next, brushing her hair, followed by Christopher—his expression unreadable—and Eva, quietly hugging a book.
"No," Hugo said, flatly.
"But we're bored," Jack groaned. "You can't just leave us here like gear scraps."
Hugo's eyes narrowed. "This isn't a field trip. I have work."
"That's fine," Jack shrugged. "We'll behave."
"You don't even know what that word means."
"I know how to follow," Jack smirked. "If I feel like it."
Hugo opened his mouth again, only to be cut off by Christopher, who stepped forward with a calm look.
"Yesterday, you said we're free to go wherever we want," he said, voice cool and precise. "That you're only responsible for giving us shelter and food. If that's still true… you can't stop us from coming along."
Silence.
Hugo blinked once, then let out a slow, tired sigh.
"…Fine," he muttered, turning toward the door. "But if you get hurt, don't expect me to cry."
"Don't worry," Jack grinned. "You're way too grumpy to cry."
They followed him out of the apartment, down into the steam-choked streets of Flywheel. Their journey had just begun—and though they didn't know it yet, the shadows ahead were far deeper than any of them expected.
The Lawkeeper Station sat like a fortress of steel and smoke near the center of the Smog District. Rusted pipes webbed its outer walls, steam hissed from the exhaust vents, and the emblem of the Cogwheel Assembly—a gear coiled around a sword—loomed above the gate like a brand.
As Hugo approached the gate, the guards barely blinked. The Genius of the Bleeding Requiem didn't need permission to walk into a crime scene—or through a police station.
The children followed closely behind, receiving plenty of wary glances from officers in brass-plated uniforms.
Inside the main hall, Hugo marched straight toward the upper levels—toward the office of Commander Edwin Rourke.
"Still storming in like you own the place, Arc," came a gravelly voice from behind his desk.
Commander Rourke was a wall of a man, beard streaked with gray, eyes sharp as broken glass. He didn't stand as Hugo entered—just leaned back in his creaking chair, the scent of pipe smoke lingering in the air.
Across from him stood Sergeant Mira Holt, her arms crossed and expression unreadable. Her uniform was crisp, but her eyes were tired.
Hugo stopped. The children lined up behind him awkwardly.
"I assume you've heard what happened in Copperpoint," Hugo said flatly.
"We've heard rumors," Mira replied. "A village wiped out. Bodies marked with phoenix insignias. But nothing official."
"Because the Assembly doesn't want anything official." Hugo tossed a sealed envelope onto the desk. "Here. Every detail. I was there."
Rourke opened the file, flipping through grim photos and Hugo's mechanical notes. His brow furrowed.
"This... this is a massacre," he muttered. "Why haven't we heard from the mayor's office?"
"Because he's dead," Hugo said. "Along with nearly every adult in the village."
The silence in the room grew thick.
"Phoenix marks," Mira repeated. "You're saying the Ashblood Wings are real?"
"I'm saying they're very real," Hugo replied. "And the Assembly is either too blind—or too involved—to say anything."
Rourke clenched his jaw. "Don't say that too loud, Arc. You've made enemies here before."
"I'm not here to make friends."
"Clearly."
Mira's eyes shifted to the children behind Hugo. "Who are they?"
"Survivors. The only ones I found alive."
"All five?" she asked, surprised.
Hugo nodded. "They'll be staying with me for now."
Rourke leaned forward, eyeing the children.
"You're not exactly known for your parenting skills."
"I'm not parenting," Hugo said. "Just keeping a promise."
The room fell quiet for a moment longer, tension humming between old allies who had become something colder.
Rourke finally closed the folder. "Thank you for the report, Arc. But be careful. If the Ashblood Wings are really real... things are about to get bloody."
"They already are," Hugo replied, turning on his heel.
As he left the office, Mira called out softly, "…It's good to see you working cases again. Just… don't break them this time."
Hugo didn't answer. The door hissed shut behind him.
As Hugo and the children descended the Lawkeeper Station steps, the city's smog-laced wind swept through the alleyway like a sigh of steam. The metallic clatter of gears in the distance filled the silence—until a voice rang out.
"Well, if it isn't the Bleeding Requiem himself," came the familiar voice of Melissa Morgan, her brown trench coat fluttering like a banner behind her. Her camera hung at her hip, lens gleaming faintly under a gearlamp.
"Thought I'd find you here."
Hugo didn't stop walking.
"Still stalking me, Morgan?"
"Not stalking," she replied with a grin, walking in stride beside him. "Just following the scent of ash and mystery. So... Copperpoint. It's true, then?"
Hugo nodded once. "It's worse than the rumors."
She adjusted her gear camera. "And the children?"
"Survivors," Hugo said flatly. "That's all you need to know."
"You know I'm going to write about it."
"No," Hugo said sharply. "You're going to wait."
Melissa blinked. "Wait?"
"There's more to this than a village burning. Publishing now could make things worse."
She studied him for a long second, her smile thinning. "Fine. But if I find out you're hiding something—"
"You'll write a dramatic exposé, I'm sure," Hugo interrupted, stepping past her.
As he passed, Eva, walking at the rear, accidentally bumped into Melissa.
"S-Sorry, miss!" Eva whispered quickly, bowing her head and clutching her book.
Melissa knelt slightly, smiling kindly. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just watch your step."
Eva nodded and hurried after the others.
Melissa stood in place for a moment, watching Hugo lead the children down the street. Her eyes narrowed.
Something didn't add up. Hugo Arc, the coldest man she knew, taking in a bunch of traumatized kids?
She turned on her heel and pulled out her compact communicator—a custom-modified gear-tab powered by whisper runes.
"Hey, Jonathan?" she said into the receiver. "Yeah. It's me."
"I just saw Hugo… with five children. Survivors from Copperpoint."
"Yeah. He's hiding something. Not sure what. But I think we should start digging."
She hung up, her expression unreadable.
The train pulled into Gloomfang City, its wheels screeching against old brass rails.This was a city cloaked in soot and secrecy—one of the last borders before the dangerous wildlands. Thick steam hung in the air, and the streets echoed with whispers of illegal duels, black-market dealings, and shadowy power.
Hugo stepped off the platform with the five children in tow, their eyes wide at the jagged skyline and flickering neon gears rotating atop distant buildings.
They arrived at the main base of the Obsidian Fang, a towering, obsidian-black structure of gears and stone—equal parts fortress and temple. Outside, heavily armed guards eyed them with steely indifference.
Inside the lobby, Hugo stopped.
"I have business upstairs," he said, cold and matter-of-fact. "You'll wait here."
Jack groaned. "Come on, seriously?"
"There's a playground outside that window," Hugo said, nodding toward the fenced-in courtyard with rusted swings and a slide that hissed steam. "Go entertain yourselves."
Rae crossed her arms. "A playground? Are we toddlers?"
"You came uninvited," Hugo said, walking toward the elevator. "This is what you get."
And just like that, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving the children behind.
The moment Hugo was gone, Jack scowled. "He treats us like cargo."
"I'm not touching that swing," Rae huffed. "It looks like it was built by angry blacksmiths."
Christopher sat on a bench, arms crossed. "Don't do anything stupid."
"I'm just saying," Jack leaned in, voice lowered. "If he's going somewhere important—why don't we follow?"
Rae smirked. "Finally, something interesting."
Christopher shook his head. "Bad idea. You'll get caught. Or worse."
Eva tugged at Jack's sleeve gently. "We should stay. Hugo will be mad..."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Let's vote. That's fair, right?"
They agreed.
Jack: Follow.
Rae: Follow.
Christopher: Stay.
Eva: Stay.
All eyes turned to Steven. He blinked nervously, chewing the edge of his sleeve.
"Uhhh…"
Jack leaned in. "Come on, Steve. Imagine the stories. Adventure!"
Christopher: "Think, Steven. We're guests. This isn't a game."
Steven hesitated… then his eyes sparkled. "Okay. But if we get caught, I blame Jack."
"Deal," Jack grinned.
And with that, the three slipped through a side hallway, shadows trailing the Requiem.
The train pulled into Gloomfang City, its wheels screeching against old brass rails.This was a city cloaked in soot and secrecy—one of the last borders before the dangerous wildlands. Thick steam hung in the air, and the streets echoed with whispers of illegal duels, black-market dealings, and shadowy power.
Hugo stepped off the platform with the five children in tow, their eyes wide at the jagged skyline and flickering neon gears rotating atop distant buildings.
They arrived at the main base of the Obsidian Fang, a towering, obsidian-black structure of gears and stone—equal parts fortress and temple. Outside, heavily armed guards eyed them with steely indifference.
Inside the lobby, Hugo stopped.
"I have business upstairs," he said, cold and matter-of-fact. "You'll wait here."
Jack groaned. "Come on, seriously?"
"There's a playground outside that window," Hugo said, nodding toward the fenced-in courtyard with rusted swings and a slide that hissed steam. "Go entertain yourselves."
Rae crossed her arms. "A playground? Are we toddlers?"
"You came uninvited," Hugo said, walking toward the elevator. "This is what you get."
And just like that, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving the children behind.
The moment Hugo was gone, Jack scowled. "He treats us like cargo."
"I'm not touching that swing," Rae huffed. "It looks like it was built by angry blacksmiths."
Christopher sat on a bench, arms crossed. "Don't do anything stupid."
"I'm just saying," Jack leaned in, voice lowered. "If he's going somewhere important—why don't we follow?"
Rae smirked. "Finally, something interesting."
Christopher shook his head. "Bad idea. You'll get caught. Or worse."
Eva tugged at Jack's sleeve gently. "We should stay. Hugo will be mad..."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Let's vote. That's fair, right?"
They agreed.
Jack: Follow.
Rae: Follow.
Christopher: Stay.
Eva: Stay.
All eyes turned to Steven. He blinked nervously, chewing the edge of his sleeve.
"Uhhh…"
Jack leaned in. "Come on, Steve. Imagine the stories. Adventure!"
Christopher: "Think, Steven. We're guests. This isn't a game."
Steven hesitated… then his eyes sparkled. "Okay. But if we get caught, I blame Jack."
"Deal," Jack grinned.
And with that, the three slipped through a side hallway, shadows trailing the Requiem.
Meanwhile, on the top floor, Hugo stood before a legend.
Charlie Luciano, the Fang of the Night, leaned on his gear-forged cane, dressed in black with silver trim. His face was weathered, scarred, but his sharp blue eyes burned with intensity. Steam hissed softly from wall vents behind him as if the room itself held its breath.
"You're getting thinner, Arc," Charlie said, voice gravel-lined. "Or are the coats just heavier these days?"
"I didn't come here for fashion critiques," Hugo replied.
Charlie chuckled. "No need to be cold."
Hugo stiffened slightly but said nothing.
Charlie gestured for him to sit. "You're here about Copperpoint?"
Hugo nodded. "It was a slaughter. Phoenix marks on every corpse."
Charlie's smile faded. "Ashblood Wings."
"They're active. And organized."
Charlie exhaled slowly. "I thought we buried those bastards twenty years ago. Apparently, ghosts like to dig."
He paused, tapping his cane. "You planning to act alone again, Hugo?"
"I always act alone."
Charlie shook his head. "Not anymore. You've got five shadows trailing you now."
"…You know?"
"I see more than I let on."
He stepped closer, his voice lowering.
"This world's bleeding, Arc. The Assembly's playing gods. The Wings are rising. We're all dancing on a ticking timepiece."
He rested a hand on Hugo's shoulder.
"Whatever's coming… you won't survive it alone."
Jack, Rae, and Steven crept down the marble-lined hallways of the Obsidian Fang's fortress. Steam hissed from the walls, gears rotated ominously above their heads, and distant echoes of clanking metal drifted from below.
"This is awesome," Jack whispered. "We're basically secret agents."
"We're literally lost," Rae muttered, heels clicking too loudly.
"Shh!" Steven hissed.
They stopped at the edge of a gear-forged balcony overlooking a glass-paneled meeting room. Inside, Charlie Luciano and Hugo Arc spoke in low, serious tones.
"Is that... him?" Rae whispered. "That's the Fang of the Night?"
"Yeah," Jack said, mouth slightly open. "He looks terrifying."
They didn't hear the heavy footsteps behind them until it was too late.
"Well, well," came a sharp voice, smooth with bite. "You three are terrible spies."
The children spun around—face-to-face with Vince Luciano, the underboss of the Obsidian Fang.
He folded his arms. The pistons on his gear gauntlets gave a mechanical twitch. "What exactly did you think you were doing? This is a mafia headquarters, not a playground."
The three froze.
A moment later, the elevator doors hissed open—and Vince shoved the kids into the meeting room.
"Hugo," Vince said, voice sharp and teasing.Hugo turned, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. "Vince."
The two stared at each other like aging rivals.
Charlie blinked, then burst out laughing. "So this is what you've been dealing with? They look like ducklings chasing their mother."
"They were eavesdropping," Vince said dryly. "Almost tripped an alarm node."
Hugo pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told you to stay in the lobby."
Jack looked away. "We... uh... got curious."
Rae huffed. "You abandoned us."
Steven scratched his head. "The playground was really rusty."
Charlie chuckled and walked over to the children. Though his presence loomed like a towering machine, his voice was unexpectedly warm.
"I agree, by the way. That playground is an insult to fun." He winked at Rae. "And the lobby's boring enough to drive anyone into espionage."
The kids relaxed just a little.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
All three nodded quickly.
Charlie turned to Vince. "Take these three—and the other two from the lobby—and get them something good. Something healthy."
Vince raised an eyebrow. "Healthy and tasty? That's a contradiction."
Charlie gave him a look. "Try harder."
With a dramatic sigh, Vince waved the kids toward the door. "Alright, little spies. Let's go before I change my mind and feed you to the gears."
The children hurried after him, chatting quietly as they disappeared into the elevator.
As silence returned to the office, Hugo let out a breath.
"Sorry about that."
Charlie smiled faintly. "Don't be. You've inherited more than a few headaches, Arc."
"I didn't ask for them."
"No one does." He poured himself a glass of dark tea. "But if you're going to carry them, you might as well carry them right."
Hugo raised an eyebrow.
Charlie's smile turned serious. "You want advice? Don't treat them like burdens. They've seen hell. They don't need another cold wall to climb."
Hugo groaned and rubbed his temple. "Spare me the fatherhood speech."
Charlie chuckled. "One day you'll thank me."
The restaurant Vince brought them to wasn't what the children expected. For a city ruled by shadows and secrets, Gloomfang had surprisingly good fast food.
The dining hall buzzed with steam vents and jukebox jazz. Gear fans rotated above, and copper pipes ran through the booths like decorative vines.
At a corner booth big enough for all five of them:
Jack tore into a gear-bunned burger dripping with sauce.
Steven picked at a massive slice of mechanical-shaped pizza.
Rae was delicately enjoying a triple-layered cheesecake with golden caramel.
Christopher twirled spaghetti like a philosopher in a food duel.
Eva nibbled quietly on a small plate of crispy rune-fries.
"This place is amazing," Jack mumbled through a mouthful.
"It's not bad," Rae admitted, inspecting her third bite with a refined fork.
Vince stood from the edge of the booth, dusting off his coat. "I'm heading to the bathroom. Don't leave this booth unless you want to spend the rest of the night lost in Gloomfang's back alleys."
"Got it," Jack said.
"Promise," Steven added, mouth full.
Vince nodded, turned, and walked toward the back hall—though the sharp glint in his eyes didn't fade as he disappeared into the hallway.
As soon as he was gone, Christopher leaned in."Okay. Spill it. What exactly did you three hear upstairs?"
Jack wiped his hands with a napkin. "Something something phoenix mark. That was about it."
"Great," Christopher said flatly. "That narrows it down."
Steven frowned. "They didn't say much... but Hugo mentioned it before too. Same mark we saw on Rae's dad. On the others, too."
Rae rested her fork, her eyes narrowing. "I think it's a group. I caught a name when Hugo was talking to the old guy. Something like… Ashblood Wings."
Christopher's expression hardened. "Ashblood Wings…"
Eva's eyes widened. "That sounds... bad."
Steven tilted his head. "You think that's who destroyed Copperpoint?"
"I don't think," Rae said. "I know."
Christopher looked down, deep in thought. "Then maybe this isn't just about Copperpoint…"
Unbeknownst to them, just beyond the wall, Vince stood still inside the hallway, his back pressed casually against the wall beside the bathroom door.
A sly smirk pulled at his lips as he whispered under his breath:
"Took 'em long enough."