Scarlett let their shoulders fall. Others took their seats. Scooting chairs and shuffling echoed through the room like it was blasted by a speaker. Silence consumed the place as quickly as it left. Black monotone suits smudged around them. Clicking shoes pounded. Kafele strode around the table. He held his hands loosely behind his back and lifted his chin.

He sat down at the head of the table and cleared his throat. The others lowered their heads a smidge. Scarlett looked over. “Welcome, all of you.” He began calmly. He steepled his fingers and put on a friendly face. “It’s a pleasure having you here.” He slid his elbows onto the table and leaned forward. The hazy sky behind him swallowed him.

“Some of you may have noticed that a lot of the seats are empty.” He continued “Well, that’s because only you few have been selected.”

A hand shot up. Kafele gave an encouraging nod. “Whats exactly is it?” A woman with a voice sharper than a blade questioned.

“I was getting there.” He reassured. “See, we’re all going to be part of a team.” The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Call it a.. search party, a group, investigators..” He said with a little shrug. “We’re going to make a collective effort to recover Emilian Lavigne-Barerre.”

Scarlett’s mind roared. A million questions stampeded through their head. They took a deep breath. Chemical stench filled their lungs. “Unfortunately, this will be a very dangerous task, but Kai Williamson himself trusts that we, as a team, can accomplish it.” Kafele said lightheartedly. “Any questions before we move on to the more.. unpleasant side of things?”

Scarlett zipped their lips. Apparently, everyone else did too. “Good.” He dismissed. “Our rallying point will be at-”

December 19^th, 1924.

Los Angeles, California.

“Nobody here will suspect a thing.” Kafele said with a little smirk.

He leaned over and flicked on the radio. A man with a solemn, dignified voice rambled on about news and whatnot. Kafele turned back to them and grinned. “Gangsters are the main concern right now.” He stated almost… happily? “Now if any of you have any remaining questions, feel free to tell me. Otherwise, follow normal street rules and keep a low profile.”

“—When do we meet here? Do we.. have to stay?” Analyn nervously asked.

Kafele nodded. “We’re all to spend our nights here for safety measures.” He said. “But only when we’re on active duty.” She nodded. Kafele smiled. “This hotel is run by our guy, by the way… Get dressed too. We have a long day ahead of us.”

Kafele strolled over to a door. He grinned enthusiastically and waved. After that he was gone.. and so was everyone else. Scarlett just stood in the hallway. The maroon stripes on the wall were like bars in a prison cell. Everything was almost… color drained. The others started to their rooms. Scarlett looked around for theirs.

“Hey, over here!”

Scarlett turned. Aapo grinned. He gestured to the door beside him. Scarlett grinned. They gave a little nod of thanks. Aapo flashed a friendly grin before easing his door shut. Scarlett looked at their room door. It was white, just like all the others. A black and white photograph of them hung in the middle of it. Scarlett tilted their head.

Jack, Johann, Alex, Sylvie, Rowan and Henry stood with their heads low at Scarlett’s side. There they were, still in a white gown. They gazed emptily into the horizon. Their pupils were unfocused, their eyes were foggy. They sat up straighter than they could ever remember. When was this photo taken? Scarlett shook their head and opened the door.

Embroidered pale curtains hid the midnight city. Honking vehicles and noisy neighbors were muffled by champagne walls. Paintings of all sorts hung. They displayed distorted faces, splatters of color and blocky shapes. House plants did their job to accent the room. Scarlett walked over to one of the sofas and sat down.

Scarlett rested their hands on the velvet cushions. Their deep red shade complimented Scarlett’s outfit. Whatever. It was time to think.

What about Eleanore? Scarlett rested their head in their hands. They’d think of something, wouldn’t they?

The question itched like a bug bite.

But she was here, wasn’t she?

Scarlett shoved it under the rug. Maybe it wasn’t time for thinking.

…

“So here’s the message.” Kafele began, laying some documents on the pool table.

A single light shone down with the power of a spotlight. Pictures of the note at all angles were strewn about. Maps and most importantly, papers upon papers. “Do you all want a summary of all of this?” Kafele asked. Even though he sounded exhausted, he was still as lighthearted as he could be. He chuckled. “Originally, we were all going to read a copy, but I took the load this time.”

A man with a head of brown curls snatched one of the papers. “Anyway, this was a ripped out diary entry from Emilian from years ago, however, it all points to him being somewhere in the early seventies.” Kafele explained. “His next note should be at the residence of a..” Kafele rummaged through photos. “.. Flavio Cafaro.”

He held up one of the photos. A headshot of an uptight man met their eyes. “He’s a famous director, currently residing in this city for a movie.” Kafele stated. “Our mission? Go into his hotel room, find the picture from somewhere inside and get out.”