Morning breaks 8:00am. Masked Man's mansion is hidden deep in the middle of the forest. David stands before a group of gang members, his posture rigid, voice sharp as he explains their mission.
David: (pointing toward the forest, eyes cold) Listen carefully. I want you to locate three children. One of them is Dean a young man, short hair, early 20s. He always wears a brown jacket and has a small bandage on his right arm to cover injuries from ten years ago.
He pauses, scanning the group, making sure they're paying attention.
David: (voice low, firm) He doesn't move alone. He's always with two adopted siblings, Stacy and Bryan, both in their 20s as well. Your job is to follow them from a distance, find out where they're living, and report back to me.
The gang exchanges uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. Frank, the leader, steps forward, frowning.
Frank: (arms crossed, skeptical) Wait… we're following kids? Why? What's the point?
David: (cold, unblinking, voice like ice) That's none of your concern. You do exactly as I said. No questions. No mistakes.
He leans in slightly, his gaze piercing.
David: (firmly) Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted by Mr. Frank here… Find these siblings. Follow them. Watch them. Learn everything you can, but do not confront them without reporting to me first. Understood?
The gang nods nervously, fear and respect mixing on their faces.
David: (coldly, dismissing them) Good. Now be gone.
The members of the gang disperse quickly, vanishing into the shadows of the forest, while David stands still for a moment, eyes scanning the path they took. As they leave, David goes to the elevator, heading to the Masked Man's office. He reaches the door of the office, inhales deeply, exhales slowly, then knocks quietly.
Masked Man: Enter.
David pushes the door open and steps inside. The Masked Man sits on his throne-like chair, staring out the glass walls, a glass of wine resting in his hand.
David enters and takes a deep bow.
David: My lord. (head lowered, voice respectful)
Masked Man: (interrupting, voice calm) You don't have to be this formal with me, you know. Just call me Christopher… like in the old days.
Christopher spins his chair slowly to face David and removes his mask. A scar runs across his left eye, now blind. His long hair reaches his neck, tied back neatly.
David: (straightening, a slight hesitation in his voice) As you wish, my lord… I mean, Christopher.
Christopher: (smiling faintly) Much better. (leans back slightly) Have you sent Frank's group already?
David: (nodding, voice firm) Yes. I instructed them not to confront the siblings without reporting to me first.
Christopher nods slowly and takes a long sip of his wine. He lets out a deep sigh, the weight of something long buried evident in his posture.
Christopher: (softly, almost to himself, eyes distant) Do you remember when we were all together… doing crazy things? Having the cops chase us… (he smiles faintly, a ghost of amusement in his expression) Those were good times… until he messed it all up and split the group apart.
David: (quietly, solemn) It's a shame… how things turned out to be.
Christopher's eyes darken as he leans forward slightly, his hand tapping the arm of the chair.
Christopher: (voice low, heavy with regret) He just had to take her from me, didn't he…? If he had just stayed away from her… everything would have been different.
Silence creeps in, thick and suffocating, filling the office as David lowers his gaze, unsure how to break it. Christopher leans back in his chair, staring at the floor for a long moment. David remains silent, waiting patiently.
Christopher: (finally, voice quiet but firm) Keep me updated… every move they make. I want no surprises, David.
David: (bowing slightly) As you wish, Christopher.
Christopher lifts his glass of wine once more, takes a slow sip, and then turns back to the glass walls, eyes fixed on the forest outside. David nods again and quietly exits the office, leaving Christopher alone in the dim light, the silence heavy around him.
Somewhere in the city, Phoebe steps out of the shower in her hotel room, a towel wrapped snugly around her. She crosses the room to grab her cell phone and dials Toyama. After a few rings, Toyama picks up, greeting her with a friendly tone.
Toyama: Phoebe! Good morning
Phoebe cuts him off, voice cold, detached.
Phoebe: Let's meet at the location I'll send you.
She quickly sends her favorite café's location to Toyama.
Phoebe: There. I just sent you the meeting place. Meet at 10:00 am. Don't be late.
Phoebe hangs up without another word.
At Toyama's house, he leans back in his chair, staring at his phone.
Toyama: (muttering, a little exasperated) Ouch… how cold can she be?
He checks the location Phoebe sent and realizes it's close to his place. A small smirk forms on his face as he stands and starts getting ready, adjusting his jacket and gathering his things.
[10:00 am.] The morning sun filters through the café windows as Phoebe enters, dressed casually but neatly. She scans the tables with sharp, calculating eyes. Spotting an empty table by the window, she slides into the seat and pulls out her phone, checking the time.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and Toyama steps in, adjusting his jacket as he notices her immediately. He walks over, a hesitant smile on his face.
Toyama: (cheerful, trying to lighten the mood) Morning, Phoebe. You look… good.
Phoebe: (cool, without looking up) Thanks. Sit. (gesturing to the chair across from her, expression unreadable)
Toyama sits down, a flicker of confusion in his eyes at her coldness, but he doesn't push it. He places his phone on the table, glancing at her silently.
Phoebe: (leaning back slightly, arms crossed, eyes focused) We need a plan… on how to approach those siblings. Dean, Stacy, and Bryan. We need to befriend them first, gain their trust.
Toyama nods slowly, understanding the seriousness of the task.
Toyama: (softly, cautious) Alright. So, step one… observe them, learn their routines, their habits?
Phoebe: (firmly) Exactly. And we need to figure out what each of them responds to. Their personalities, what makes them open up, what pushes them away.
Toyama leans forward, picking up a small notebook from his bag, already jotting down ideas.
Toyama: (focused) We approach carefully, small interactions first… friendly gestures, nothing suspicious. They have to feel safe.
Phoebe watches him closely, her expression unreadable, but a small nod indicates she approves.
Phoebe: (calmly) Good. We meet again tomorrow and finalize the approach. Timing and patience will be key.
The café hums around them, but in that corner, the air feels heavy with purpose, as both of them silently commit to the plan that will bring them closer to the siblings.
At Elana's place, the morning light streams softly through the windows. Elana woke up early to prepare breakfast for the day. Stacy rises before Dean and Bryan, quietly padding to the living room. She finds Elana in the kitchen, moving gracefully as she flips eggs in a pan.
Stacy: (smiling, hands slightly fidgeting) Good morning, Elana. Need any help with breakfast?
Elana: (glancing up, calm) Good morning, Stacy. Don't worry yourself, it's almost done. (gestures to the stove) Go take a relaxing shower, and wake Dean and Bryan right after.
Stacy nods and heads to the bathroom. A few minutes later, someone knocks lightly on the front door. Elana wipes her hands on a towel and approaches, peering through the little door hole. She sees Michael standing there, expression neutral. She opens the door and lets him in.
A short while later, Bryan wakes up. Rubbing his eyes, he stands and leaves the room, walking quietly down the hallway. He notices a man talking to Elana and pauses, leaning against the wall to eavesdrop.
Stacy emerges from the bathroom, hair damp and fully dressed, and spots Bryan listening in.
Stacy: (stern, whispering) Bryan… what are you doing?
Bryan startles slightly and retreats. The two head back to their room together, waking Dean.
Stacy: (to Dean, gently) Time to get up. Breakfast is almost ready.
She turns to Bryan.
Stacy: Go have a shower now… and don't eavesdrop okay.
Bryan nods and heads toward the bathroom. Stacy walks over to her phone, picks it up, and powers it on. The screen lights up, but it takes a moment for messages to start coming through.
Elana calls out from the kitchen, her voice warm and inviting.
Elana: Come to the living room, everyone. Breakfast is ready.
Stacy sets the phone down, glances at Dean.
Stacy: Dean, head to the living room once you're ready.
She leaves the room, letting the siblings begin their day.
Stacy joins Elana and Michael in the living room. Elana sets a plate on the table, then gestures toward the man beside her.
Elana: (warmly) Stacy, this is Michael. He's… an old acquaintance.
Stacy: (polite, faint smile) Nice to meet you.
Michael gives her a nod, his expression calm but unreadable.
Michael: Likewise.
Back in the room, Dean hears a sharp notification sound. He glances at Stacy's phone lying on the bed, the screen lighting up. Curious, he picks it up, swipes up to unlock, and the chat list appears. Only two conversations and the family group.
Dean freezes when he sees the new notification, his hands trembling slightly as he taps the group. His eyes widen as the message opens.
Dean: (voice shaking, calling out loudly) Stacy! Bryan! Come quick!
Bryan, still in the bathroom, hears the urgency in Dean's voice. Still dripping from the shower, he yanks on his jeans and drapes a towel around his shoulders, and steps into the hallway just as Stacy is leaving the living room.
Stacy: (to Elana and Michael, quickly) Excuse me for a moment.
She hurries into the hallway, meeting Bryan, who's dripping wet with a towel around his shoulders. They exchange a confused look and rush together into the room.
Stacy: (concerned) What's up? What happened?
Bryan: (frowning, impatient) Yeah, Dean, what is it?
Dean doesn't answer right away. He sits frozen, staring at the phone, silence stretching in the room.
Finally, he looks up at them, his expression pale.
Dean: (voice low, shaken) There's… a message. A message in the family group chat.
Stacy and Bryan exchange a stunned glance.
Dean: (barely above a whisper) It says it's from two days ago… the day they died.
The room falls into silence, the weight of his words pressing down like a storm.
The three of them stand frozen in the room, the phone lying between them, the air thick with dread. Dean's grip tightens as his thumb hovers above the screen, seconds away from opening the message fully. What message awaits them, only seconds away from the message being heard.
…And who was truly responsible for tearing apart the gang Christopher and David once called family?
To be Continued...