As the crew of a large luxury yacht secured its mooring to the dock, Vincent Galvani and King stepped off the deck, soaking in their new surroundings. The brisk air of the Swedish coastline invigorated them, carrying with it a formidable presence they couldn't shake. Vincent was dressed in his tailored suit that doubled as a holographic disguise layered over his high-tech armor, while King wore his signature, immaculate purple suit that showcased his narrow, golden eyes and flowing mane.

Galvani eyed King with both amusement and annoyance, "So, was there a reason we took one of your yachts to Stockholm, instead of just, I don't know, letting the Boss teleport us here?"

King shrugged nonchalantly, a devious grin spreading across his feline features, "Mere habit, really. Besides, wouldn't it be poetic if we stumbled upon Almaerifuh on this very dock?"

Vincent let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temples. Ivanov was a powerful man, and now they were pursuing Abdul-Qadeer Almaerifuh, the prime suspect in smuggling highly prized intel for Ivanov.

"Do you really think he runs to a cruise ship when the chips are down?" Vincent asked incredulously. "From what I understand, it's not easy to book a passage like that without attracting attention. You'd think a slippery character in his line of work would know better."

King let out a low chuckle, his voice sinister and teasing. "You underestimate Almaerifuh, my dear Vincent. He's been in this game long enough to know which seams need to be stitched up to get out undetected. For instance, always having a cruise booked on standby. Cruise ships love money, especially money that is already spent, but is rarely redeemed."

"Hmm," Vincent said with a nod, agreeing with King but not willing to admit it. He started watching the crowd of people. He knew Almaerifuh was in Stockholm, but he didn't know where. Their only lead was a club owned by Almaerifuh and despite his habit of always taking cruises, they didn't know when he would make a move for any of them.

King yawned, "Red really likes her cloak and dagger, doesn't she?" He ran his fingers through his flowing mane, a small gesture that radiated his natural feline grace. "Hopefully, this high-stakes game of hide and seek concludes soon. The anticipation is starting to grate on my nerves."

Vincent rolled his eyes, "You're one to talk, Mr. Suave-Cat. You're practically purring at the idea of a fight. You live for the thrill." He adjusted his wrist computer, scanning the crowds of people streaming past the docked yacht. "Besides, you know Red, anything involving the former products of the Soviets really riles her up. I think the only one she ever had a favorable opinion of was Bystrolyotov." He said, flashing a coy smile King's way.

"Yeah, well, I saw what she did to him.* Say, you and Red are chummy, what's with her and the Russkis?" King retorted, his narrow yellow eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Vincent glared at King, "Me and Red are more than just, 'chummy.'" He replied, a slight edge to his voice. Vincent's feelings for Gale were complex and deep, and the thought of her romantic involvement with anyone, even someone as aloof as King, stabbed at his heart.

"Yeah, yeah. You're shagging the Boss. Humble-brag more often, Vincent, it suits you." King's grin widened, showcasing his perfectly white teeth.

Vincent felt his cheeks grow warm, but he kept his cool. "Oh, shut up. I don't—"

“Oh, look who's blushing. You two are insatiable. Honestly, I'm surprised there's time for us to do anything.” King interrupted, playfully nudging Vincent.

Vincent fixed him with a steely gaze. “I resent that. We—" At that moment Vincent saw King's determined eyes focused on something behind him. He turned to look, and met the barrel of a gun held by a menacing looking man, a man who did his best to blend into the crowd, but couldn't shake off his brutish demeanor and intimidating presence. The hammer of the gun fell, the menacing looking man pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Vincent didn't have time to react, but he didn't need to. A split second before the bullet left the chamber, a force field materialized in front of him, absorbing the impact of the bullet elegantly. The shooter stood confused, seemingly unsure of what had just transpired. Vincent stood frozen, a mix of shock and gratitude etched on his face.

A clawed hand, half-bestial, half-human, took the shooter by the throat, "Almaerifuh sent you, yes?" King asked, his eyes gleaming gold in the fading light. The man gurgled in response, the pressure on his throat preventing him from speaking, only the nodding of his head offering affirmation.

With a swift, precise motion, King snapped the man's neck, the crack echoing in the air as anger and ruthlessness overtook his features. He released the lifeless body, allowing it to crumple to the ground without a second thought.

Vincent watched in awe. However, his gratitude towards King couldn't overpower the sense of unease. Turning back to face his partner, Vincent asked, "What the heck are you doing? We could have interrogated him, or had him send Almaerifuh a message!"

"No worries, Almaerifuh is the type of man who loves to watch. He got my message loud and clear." King said, scanning the crowd with a scowl. He hoisted the lifeless body over his shoulder, the carcass a testament to the chaos of the situation. There would be no explanation, no apology. Almaerifuh would know exactly which of his men had been eliminated, and why.

The crackling tension of impending danger hung heavy in the air as they watched their surroundings warily. Vincent's pulse quickened, his mind racing as they navigated the docks, hauling the thug's body with them. Quickly, he started tapping on his wrist computer.

"You better not be calling Red!" King growled, shaking the corpse at Vincent with a savage glint in his eyes.

Vincent remained hunched over his device, "If you were right about everything, then Almaerifuh is redeeming his ticket on that cruise ship right now. I can trace the transaction, find out which ship he'll be boarding, and we can perhaps beat him to it. Assuming we don't run into anymore of his men..."

As they reached the center of the square leading to the docks, men, women, and children scattered, screaming. The holographic suit of armor underneath Vincent's expensive garments flashed amber, alerting him that the threat level had risen significantly. In the distance, they could see the fierce skirmish as Abdul-Qadeer Almaerifuh's men returned fire, targeting King.

As King's flesh was torn under the onslaught of bullets, it just as quickly knitted tightly together, displaying an astounding ability to heal instantaneously and regenerate; the bloodshed and pain were temporarily suspended to the astonishment and horror of passersby.

"I can't take you anywhere," King quipped with a cheeky grin, swiftly shifting the attention away from his near-death experience, vanishing from sight into the throng of assailants.

Vincent cursed under his breath, spinning on his heel and following in pursuit of the elusive King. People scattered, shrinking away in fear as the two men barreled past. Vincent knew that they couldn't afford to expose their unique abilities in such a public place and potential witnesses added to the growing mountain of complications.

King, on the other hand, was almost giddy, as he whipped the lifeless body of the thug around, clubbing down the enemies surrounding them. Holmes and Watson were known for their detective prowess, but King and Vincent's success came from another fashion; they were a dynamic duo fueled by loyalty, a lust for intrigue, and a heaping dose of the supernatural.

The chaos erupted into a cacophony of shouting, cars swerving out of their path and tires screeching as Vincent and King pursued Almaerifuh's men. Vincent's mind raced, analyzing each decision that had brought them to this point. Who could have predicted that a simple tip about Almaerifuh would lead to a chaotic chase through the streets of Stockholm.

As King's rage increased, so did his speed. Soon Vincent would have to take to the air to keep up with his unyielding partner. Vincent knew that the police would be getting involved any minute. In the distance, he heard their sirens blaring, growing louder with every passing second. He risked a glance behind him, fearing that he would see bloodshed in his wake.

But King was a master of strategy and the ultimate killing machine, leaving no trace of their existence. The only thing left behind was the body of the man responsible for attacking Vincent, as the dead man lay in the middle of the street like a broken doll without its owner.

"So," King spoke between pants, "You mentioned something about tracing Almaerifuh's transaction?" He asked, glancing back at Vincent, his feline eyes gleaming with anticipation.

*In the novella, "Just a Hole" ~Editor