Rai was whittling away at the remains of Sunday at his desk, on his keyboard. Sao imagined the pitter-patter as rainfall, falling on a boardwalk as he took shelter in a seaside shack, the gentle gusts of a transient storm (in reality, the air conditioning) grazing his damp hair and clothing.

The relentless muttering about witnesses and cases and files wasn’t doing much for the fantasy.

“You should see this schedule. I didn’t think military functions happened so often. Someone’s gotta have seen Cas’s storyteller, or recognize him by description. Then again, it’s just one man… I’m starting to believe the E34 experiment was much smaller than we were led to believe. Aquila had practically nobody to call on for her case - not unwilling witnesses, or distant relations - not even that. Just five ex-soldiers, including her brother. Four of whom were last known to have turned themselves in for treatment. One of whom stayed anonymous.”

Sao swayed in his comfortable chair. Swivel chairs on a boardwalk? A pleasant enough thought; he could allow it. “All this assuming Cas was being even half truthful.”

A pause. The drizzle petered out. “What are you still doing here?”

“Watching the sunset.”

His eyes were closed. He knew the sun was still floating high in the sky, burning defiantly, and would be there for several hours yet.

The sound of someone trudging over. “You’d get a better view from your place.” Sao emerged from his daydream to see Rai staring out the window a few feet away. “You’re wasting your Sunday.”

“I’d like to think there was some progress made.”

Rai dropped onto the stiff bench that was the oldest piece of the office ‘sitting area’. “I heard the tail end of your private conversation with Cas. What else did you talk about?”

“Nothing helpful. Or pleasant.” It was an honest enough answer.

“He said to ask about my conspiracy theories. To kill time. As far as I can tell, that’s what you’re trying to do here.”

The sun was still up, wasn’t it? Sao shrugged. “I assumed he was being facetious, or else unaware. You’ve done a lot with theories that others shied away from. The first city shapeshifter case was yours, and you were just a teenager, if I recall. I don’t think of you as a paranoid conspiracist.”

Rai folded his arms. “Alright, here’s one for you. Did you hear about the revolution that happened within the Central Army’s main base, four years ago? A faction of dissenting soldiers revolted from within, busted up the comms and pulled a good number of other malcontents out with them. Then, story goes, the leaders divided their followers four ways to launch disruption campaigns on Central’s newly constructed satellite bases, at four corners of the continent.”

“I don’t know the details, but I heard of the rebellion in the news, of course. You’re not going to tell me that was a conspiracy…?”

“No, no, no, that’s not my point. The rebellion did happen. It was bigger than it looked, too, we just didn’t feel it. Isn’t it weird how little we’re affected by things outside the Core Cities?” Rai looked out over the muggy cityscape, with faint disgust, or was it pride? “The campaigns at the four corners were headed up by four main figureheads. Generals, I guess. The tabloids came to call them the Four Emperors.”

“Ah, I did hear about this. Monstrously powerful magic users, if I recall.”

“You’re thinking of the eastern general. The four were codenamed Tortoise and Tiger, Dragon and Phoenix, and he was the Dragon. He was a senior magician and a general back in the Central army, but his skills weren’t something developed in schools - he was recruited from an obscure town, self taught. So nobody really knew what to expect, but they shouldn’t have expected loyalty. When he revolted, he managed to dislodge two hundred of the army’s best magicians to take with him to form the East Quarter.”

“But the army - armies - they fell. The magicians were mysteriously released from service and were reabsorbed into the army. Or banned from it. Resulting in the sudden influx of commercially available magic experts three years ago.” Sao smiled. “I think I heard that from you.”

“Probably. Anyhow, last anyone saw of the Dragon General was his retreat into the far eastern forest. So that was the East. I’ll be back to him in a moment. All their armies fell, supposedly, because of the great defeat of the Southern Quarter, and the Phoenix General. He was known as En, and he was griffin. His army had a lot of griffins; you know they’re one of the most celebrated types of people in the army. I guess losing him was a blow to their motivation.”

“Griffins. I’ve never met one myself.”

Griffins were the winged variant folk. The first Sao had seen of them was in his early school days, illustrations of their supposed ancestors, in ornate old books. The book he’d read was very old, and called them angels. Since coming to the city, he’d only heard the ‘angels’ comparison made by sarcastic television spokesmen, hoping to have the public’s heads shaking at the (allegedly) volatile temperament of very real modern griffins, who had little attachment to any religion and nearly all of whom were employed in the military.

Rai trundled on. “The North Quarter worked under the Tortoise General, a woman called Ira. She was an import from the North Continent - kind of like an exchange student, or a peace offering. A combat surgeon, a trainer, one of those people who could do it all. Her followers weren't released or defeated per se. She took them further up north and vanished.”

“Bad for international relations.”

“Our North allies claim not to know where she went off to. It might be true that she didn’t go to them for help. Her transfer to the Central army happened when she was fresh out of training. In the eyes of her homeland, she’d spent so much of her life outside she was essentially a foreign agent.” Rai leaned an arm on the giant freestanding printer beside the bench. “So, I noticed after they were defeated–”

“What about the last one? The Tiger.”

“That’s what I’m getting to.” A grin crept onto Rai’s lips. “I don’t think the Tiger exists anymore.”

Sao found himself leaning in, conspiratorial in spite of himself. “Excuse me?”

“The identity of the Tiger is the only one that was never clear. The Western Quarter was the least aggressive of the four and when dismantled, it seemed like they had only been doing things like constructing housing, repairing weapons, canning food... Practically charity work, though they did ship supplies out to the other four.”

“You’re thinking the fourth army was some sort of deception?”

“Ever hear of a paper tiger? But who knows. Whatever it was, that Quarter fell too, and its workforce scattered. I doubt most of them knew what they were really involved in. That’s when the story moved here. To the Core Cities. Once the Phoenix General En was taken down, the other ‘Emperors’ went into hiding. After enough accomplices were rounded up and questioned, the army distributed a dossier on each of the leaders, declaring them wanted for treason. You can look them up yourself in the police archives.”

“All except one, I’m guessing.”

“Oh, we got something for the Tiger of the West with all the others, at first.” Rai slammed a hand down on the printer’s hollow tap panel. “An individual with facial scarring, and burn marks on his body. Not much else. But the Tiger listing got recalled. Emergency recalled. Like Neocam wiping out photos, but with no hope of explanation or return. The only entity that could make a governmental recall that fast, and that thorough, is the army. And I get it - they wouldn’t want to have the wrong person targeted as a war criminal. City Police got another notice later that week - I didn’t even see it, but I heard it described an older guy. Less than two hours later, that one got pulled too. We’ve never got another brief on the Tiger General since.”

Sao frowned. “Perhaps they caught him.”

“Maybe. We have gotten a couple of spontaneously wiped logs and notices in the past. That sudden zapping of info tends to indicate the upper military’s taken the matter into their own hands. But I don’t think that was the case here. Police and press were freely told that the Phoenix General was killed in combat. Wouldn’t the army want people to have the peace of mind, knowing a second leader was captured, or taken out?”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from this case, that’s that I have no concept of the inner workings of the Central Army.” Sao felt at ease admitting it. The E34 case seemed a distant blip of concern now; he was enjoying himself.

“My theory is that either the Tiger General was caught, but ended up making a deal or colluding with the Central Army, and is thus being protected. Or… he gave them the runaround, and nobody really knows who this person is at all.”

“Imagine that. A big man with a big name, hiding in plain sight.” Sao paused. “But you suggested he may not have existed.”

“Here come the facades you talking about. Do you know the name of the Eastern General, the Dragon? Casilus Q___.”

“Oh?”

“So three years ago, by total coincidence, Mr Cas J__, recently discharged military man, arrived in Central.”

There it was, the other shoe dropping. Heavy as bricks, and himself an unwary insect. “Oh,” Sao said again. “But the Dragon general disappeared into the Eastern forests, you said?”

“He was last seen there. He was also last reported to be in an extremely sickly state, so much that the wanted persons notice states he’s likely to eventually be found deceased. He also looks nothing like Cas J…”

“That’s what I wanted to ask.” Sao bit his lip. “I suppose people can change their appearances...”

“Don’t get me wrong. They look absolutely nothing alike. Casilus Q___ was short, skinny and washed-out in coloration. All magic, no muscle. He was frail. Doesn’t that just sound too perfect, though? A very distinct-looking, near-dead man becomes one of the continent’s most wanted. And nobody’s ever seen him again.”

“Is it just the name that connects the two?”

“Cas said today he was sentimental. More tangibly, the timeline matches up. Cas J has military knowledge… of some kind, it’s not especially clear. There are a couple of tiny news clippings with his name attached to armed vehicle modification and repair.”

“Yes, but…”

“You mean, how could he become a different person?” Rai threw his hands up in mock frustration. He couldn’t wait to throw down the denouement. “Okay, that case where I first ran into him. A married couple; man and woman, both ex-military, living on Judgment Street. They were pretty sociable, neighbors said hi to them in the mornings. One week in July, they disappeared without warning. Car was left behind, nobody saw them go. The week finishes and the man just comes home, by all accounts he snuck back in his house one morning; had the keys, slept in his bed. But days to follow, he starts socializing with different people. Old friends and travel buddies he met on vacation, he says...”

Had the sun started to sink, just an inch?

“He spares some time for the neighbor again, though, it’s only natural. He even invites them in for lunch one day. The neighbors are suspicious, and they’re careful. They poke around, find bloodied clothes, the missing wife’s dress, and orchestrate a distraction - the police are called before the man can retaliate.”

“They thought he’d retaliate?”

“The police are questioning him and it doesn’t look good. The man is shaken up, making piss-poor excuses, and the neighbors seem to have it all figured out. But there’s one other guy there, a friend, who’s chilling out the whole time. Like the police coming over was just lunchtime entertainment.”

“Cas.”

“In the flesh. Had a nasty scar back then, too, I'm surprised it healed up.” Rai gave a faint snort. He sounded almost impressed. “Longtime friend of the family - so says the husband. And Cas was there going ‘You can tell them about the fight. I’m sure she’ll be back soon, just give her a call.’ I don’t know how else to describe it - he was feeding the guy info. Really obvious. Only nobody else seemed to think so.”

“Just you, then.”

“Just me. Cas testified personally that the couple had gone on some kind of S-and-M themed vacation - and had a ‘nasty little tiff’ - told the guy it was fine to admit it. The guy was stuttering the whole time, but he went ahead and admitted it. It was the least believable thing ever. And I guess Cas pranked all of us really good because without any prompting, later that night, the wife came back home, on her own, in a taxi. Alive and well. Spouting the same sex vacation-turned-sour story.”

“How… awkward.”

“I dropped by later that month and the neighbors were still suspicious. The couple had started to invite a lot of new people over. I know how it sounds - but they swore the nice, private couple had completely changed since their trip.” Rai folded his hands tightly, and set them on his lap. “A person disappears and comes back mysteriously intact, but different. What does that spell?”

It was a familiar sequence. “You think the shapeshifters replaced them.”

“You do see it! The whole thing was textbook. So I picked a random night to go knocking on the door to one of those gatherings and let myself in. Cas was there; no surprise. About a dozen others too, old and young. It looked like a bachelor party. And I said to him and the hosts, ‘hey, we had a rough start. I want to apologize. Why don’t we shake on it?’”

“You did?” Sao sputtered. It was galling, but he couldn’t hold back a brief gasp of laughter. Life Fountain aura burned shapeshifters - he’d seen Rai in action just once, marking a then-confirmed shapeshifter, but his approach had been slightly more artful than charging like a bulldog into a den of suspects and offering handshakes. He wiped back a tear. “You were a wild one, back then.”

“I was worse.” Rai peeled off a glove. “Plus, these people were all over each other. Handsy. Damp. Unlike you, I wouldn’t let them get away with some touch-phobia, germ-phobia bullshit. Er - I didn’t mean it like that, about your condition–”

“So what happened?”

“Fucking Cas took center stage again. Everyone sort of skittered away or hid behind him. And he stood up and whacked me on the shoulder. And he said, he understood how I’d worked myself up into seeing monsters. Dangerous world and all that. But he finished up with - get this - ‘I don’t feel safe with people like you around.’”

His playful tone took a high-pitched swerve toward hysteria when he recited the words. And he looked Sao dead in the eye. Pleading for him to disagree.

Sao rested his chin on his palm and thought a bit. Rai wasn’t dangerous, that much was clear enough to him. Surely Sao didn’t have to give some trite affirmation. “So you didn’t get to touch any of them to test. I can see how that was suspicious.”

Rai clammed up, receding from his joyous frenzy. Back to earth, under a hateful sun, with a loathsome glower. “If I was right, it meant that the couple really did get taken away. Shapeshifters ate them to take their forms, so they were probably killed. I might have had another chance to test them, but my assistant at the time - a straight-edge office guy - reported me for overstepping. He never visited the house or met the people involved at any point. I don’t know how he knew.”

Sao chose not to put in any points about assistants and their extraneous sources of intel.

“The relevant point right now isn’t the couple. They moved out years ago. But... probable shapeshifters, one wanted ex-general with no identity, another who disappeared in the most convenient way, and a man with no past turning up at just the right time with a suspiciously similar name, and military background? What say you?”

“I don’t doubt that Cas is a strange person, but these are some very… intense attributions. I –” Sao hesitated. “I have to wonder if he incites drama for his own entertainment.”

The sky had grown dramatically darker since he’d last looked.

“Can you work with me here?” Rai asked.

“Oh, I don’t think your theories are total conspiracies, for one.”

“You know him, don’t you?”

Sao winced.

Rai sometimes came across as dense as a cement block (he had the coloring of cement, to boot) but they’d been working together long enough for Sao to know that his supervisor possessed a strange perceptiveness. It was a slow sort of instinct that did little for quick, punchy conversation. But what secrets he gathered, he had the restraint to keep hold of, painstakingly hoist up – and drop them from a height when they’d hurt most. Knowing that moment was another gift of his. The recipient of that social bludgeon rarely saw it coming.

It was time to make good on an apology. “Yes. I’m sorry. I know him, in a semi-personal capacity. It was a work assignment, when I was young and directionless.”

“The Rock Pool, too?”

“We were there before it was named that.”

“Did he…” Rai became cautious. “Did he tell you anything today?”

“I wish he had. I tried to leverage what I had on him, but I don’t have much. Even before, I wished I had some real way of getting through to him. But I have less than zero sway, it’s hard to even start speaking; I feel like I have to keep my guard up...”

The words were ready to spill forth from him, to expunge the weight that was Cas for good, but Rai jammed the spout before he could get another word in.

“You go back that far? I must sound like a fucking idiot, spouting some dream logic about a shapeshifting war general.” Rai stood, gloves falling from his lap. He bent awkwardly back down to retrieve them from under the coffee table. “I suspected you two knew each other. I didn't wanna chase, though. I could tell - about the only thing I could tell - you were afraid of him.”

“I’m not exactly…” Sao sighed. “Time with him wasn’t pleasant, for sure.”

“So, based on what you know, then. You don’t have to tell me anything specific, but in your gut: do you think he has anything to do with the military, and the mystery drug?”

Sao blinked. It took a moment to align his soggy self back to business. “The fact that he was a military contractor - I think that’s probably true. I didn’t hear about it. But he did fall out of contact for… a long period of time. And there’s the way he carries himself. As for controversial drug development and trials… I don’t think he has a scientific background, nor would he submit to a risk like that. But he’s good at making connections.”

“If he somehow acquired the drugs, he might want to sell them.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure how money-motivated he is.”

“If he’s involved with shapeshifters, it might be useful to keep bodies around for long-term copying. With E34, the body can be permanently injured and stay alive to be fed on by any number of shifters…”

“We’re back to the surreptitious shapeshifters.” Sao rubbed his forehead. “Isn’t the issue with shapeshifters that they’re in hiding? Isn’t being associated with the death of three girls and one attempted suicide, broadcasted online, a bit out of character for a secret organization?”

“Forget the shapeshifters, then. Would Cas, the person he is, involve himself in the deaths of four depressed girls?”

Sao considered this one for a long time, long enough for the sun to sink behind the bridge, a red line tracing the complex silhouette of beams and bars. The structure looked like it was on fire. “I don’t think so.”

“So you’re willing to defend him..”

“In accordance with what I know. And I only knew him for a short time. Days.”

“He must have made an impact.”

“There are reasons I don’t think positively about life before Van got me into my archive job at HQ. Cas is among those trappings. I can’t tell if he’s orchestrating the drugging and deaths of innocent women. I’d like to think not, but I’m not saying we shouldn’t be careful around him.” He stood, looked Rai level in the eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t disclose all this. I was hoping that the relationship wouldn’t be important. I don’t overly care that it came to light, but it bothers me a bit that I was of little use even so..”

He headed for the door.

“Are you alright, if we have to talk to him again?” Rai said, faintly behind him, in his most grating monotone.

“Are you alright, if we have to watch another girl recording herself dying and hear her reasons for it?” Sao tossed back, a little too quickly.

“I— That’s different. I took this case. But you have a choice, if I’m pulling you down a hole you don’t want to go...”

Sao turned to look at Rai, who was silhouetted, half traced in fire, like the bridge. The glow of his hands was faint, strained and faltering, against the backdrop of blood-red sunset.

“I’m not your old assistant. I’m not going to report you to HQ for questioning me,” Sao said.

“I know. You never do. But it’s not about that anymore.”

There was that look again, the look that should never have been formed by that face. Rai’s face. The stare suddenly hollowed a desolate vacuum that made Sao want to apologize and laugh and confess the worst truth he could dredge up, all at the same time, but he knew he’d just be stopped by some circumstance or another, again and again. Worthless.

He managed a smile, gave a small wave, and headed for the door, flicking on the lights. The burn of the sunset was diminished by the harsh whiteness that fell over them. “Turn those on at night. Better for your eyes.”

Rai was pulling on his gloves.

“See you tomorrow,” Sao said.

—

A supermarket charcuterie set and some dipping bread would elevate yesterday’s soup nicely. While Sao was unloading his groceries he noticed the pot of soup was no longer on the stove, and the mugs he and Rai had used that morning were washed and set on the drying rack.

Was it already the day for the cleaners?

Sao took his soup out of the fridge and contemplated how quick and quiet the passage of time could be. Like a hunter. Like a tiger circling around, cutting off routes of escape, devouring possibilities, more and more lost into its maw every hour. Was it his calling to be someone’s assistant forever? In his honest opinion, that didn’t sound so bad, but that made him wonder if he should perhaps be a bit more ambitious. No, ambition didn’t suit a man who didn’t make his own bed, and could scarcely be bothered to reheat his own soup. He felt rather slovenly.

He mixed some hot water from the boiler into the soup and took it to the dining table. The result was bland and tasteless, ruining the nice baguette he’d bought.

Sao nibbled a slice of pepper-crusted salami sadly. He was sitting in the chair Rai had occupied that morning. He tried not to think of the ill-humored exchange they’d had upon parting, but Rai’s mangled, uncharacteristic display of anguish still haunted him. By association, he was now feeling a minor craving for coffee.

The landline began to ring. He wiped the oil from his hands and answered it.

“Not the most grateful, are you?” the caller growled.

“No,” he lamented. “Never as much as I should be.”

“Get a hold of yourself.” It was Hro. “You went straight to the kitchen. Didn’t think to check if someone robbed the place?”

Sao jerked his head toward the living room. “I thought it was the cleaner who came?”

“It was. Same person, so let themselves in. But it’s the wrong day.” An air of smugness pervaded Hro’s proclamation. “It’s Sunday.”

“Did I leave a mess somewhere? I’m sorry they had to come, I didn’t realize-”

“Had a fun day out? Have one too many drinks; did you just forget everything?” A long-suffering sigh. “They made a drop off. If I didn’t call, I suspect you would have just hit the bed without ever seeing you got your phone back.”

And there it was, beside his laptop on the lounge's polished glass side table.

“I sent the contents of your cache to your email,” Hro said. “Just a lot of mediocre-looking women and retouched food photos. Most interesting thing was that you kept looking at your boss’s cat.”

“Dog.”

“Indistinct gray blob, whatever. Your internal life is really lacking, isn’t it?” A pause. “I took the liberty of cross-checking the posts you viewed with recent deletions logged by Neocam. The applicable removal timestamps are attached to the same mail.”

“You really are a miracle worker. Only you could just go up to another corporation and ask–”

“Chimera and its subsidiaries sponsor a number of users, have our ads manually read by the users as well as automatically run. And we have an account manager, among other resources.” Hro sniffed. “I had reason to be concerned, in line with recent examples, how a sponsor might be compensated for a contracted user who is, shall we say, unexpectedly unable to continue the terms of a contract on their platform.”

“You asked how you’d be compensated… if a user died.”

“Or had their posts deleted, are you even following? Is there any understanding here? The Neocam administrators confirmed that any balance on the user’s Neocam account could be charged back on a case-by-case basis.”

How lucky for the sponsor to be able to claw back dollars from the dead, Sao wanted to say. But he did not, and was glad for it, as Hro powered forward.

“Our insider also confirmed that the excluding the terms-violating suicide videos, the deleted posts that piqued our ‘concern’ were removed of the users’ own accord. Those removed by the moderators have a particular flag in the backend, but the actions in this case were done by the owners of the accounts.”

“I don’t see how…” Sao lowered himself slowly into the embrace of the cloud-white couch. “The owners are dead.”

“How astute. But unless you know something I don’t, online accounts still exist without their creators. Factor in family, friends, a girlfriend, boyfriend, that people are careless as fuck with passwords - and it’s nothing shocking. The logins weren’t coming from suspicious sources, so a personal connection’s the best bet. That or a hack.”

“Odd content to be selected by a hacker.”

“You haven’t even looked at the content.” Hro made a sound that sounded a bit like a snake spitting. “More certain: the military didn’t break in or commandeer access. They wouldn’t need to sneakily log in pretending to be the owner, they’d have just extracted info the same way I did. Shutter the whole account from public view if there was something to hide. With existing sources or by forcing the corp’s hand.”

“Your accounts manager told you all this? The police need one of those…”

“Good fucking luck.”

Sao laid his head back and weighed his familiar phone case in one hand, holding up the landline receiver in another. The ‘burner’ was in his pocket. He had more phones than he had hands. He felt very well connected, yet totally untethered at the same time. “Hro,” he said slowly, “About the future of E34…”

He paused to get his thoughts in order. On the other end there was silence. Had he been disconnected? The last remark had been fairly in line with Hro’s crude stand-ins for goodbye. Sao waited a few moments before moving the receiver back toward its base.

“Just hanging up on me? You’re welcome, then. It’s all of the utmost importance when you make the call, but when I’m doing it, just randomly ring off mid-word, who cares.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d hung up already.”

“I was waiting to see if you’d finish your sentence, but fuck me for being polite.”

“I’m sorry,” Sao said again, “I was just asking if-”

But the line really did go dead this time.

—

Sao sat on his bed feeling rather pathetic and friendless, someone devoid of, and thoroughly undeserving of, trust or luck or joy. He didn’t feel like browsing Neocam, swimming in pictures of other people’s friends, other people’s beauty. He’d spent the day away from it and didn’t realize until now how refreshing the break had been. Resting his shoulders against the cool marble headboard, he tried to align his priorities.

Orchid was deteriorating. Aquila, too. The army was on the move, but not toward the recovery of the victims. Those were just mistakes. Floating indeterminately in the mix of suicides and zombification was Maya.

Sao pulled his laptop up on his chest.

The record of deletions went back four months. He was surprised Hro had managed to squeeze so much from the Neovision corporates. At the same time, it was Hro, so he was less surprised than if it were anyone else.

The most recent deletions, made the night he and Rai had dined at The Tombola, were Jasmine’s pictures, the majority of which were photos taken at the Rock Pool, including any and all references there were of Sapphire.

Hazel’s account had deleted all Rock Pool photos but one, just hours before Jasmine.

Then next on the chopping block were the suicide streams, and Hazel’s pre-death message. He didn’t look at the included videos. Before the deaths of the girls came the normal flow of content; a smattering of deletions for reasons such as incorrect dates, glitched audio quality, unkind remarks about fellow users, and a few that didn’t contain any sort of error that he could glean.

For example, Jasmine had removed a lovely pencil drawing a wreath woven with white hydrangeas, for a veterans memorial event. Dedicated to an important friend, she’d written - and deleted. The drawing-process video for the piece had also been removed.

Sapphire’s account had the fewest deletions. He’d gotten the impression she was the most polished, the most professional, but he remembered Rai’s words when he spoke of her. Too positive. Like all her problems were solved. Relapse hit and it was embarrassing as hell…

Why didn’t she just delete her mistakes? There were too many of them, perhaps. Too many declarations of dreams come true, of a life turned around, claims of being the authority in becoming well. Just looking at the list would hurt.

Pushing onto the earlier records, deletions were few and unremarkable, excepting the Rock Pool’s excision. Until December of the previous year. At least a hundred photos on Maya’s account were deleted in rapid succession over the course of two days.

Sao opened one of the photos and saw Maya and a blushing woman with cropped hair and a silky dress sharing a candlelit dinner. The next three photos all featured the couple, radiant with happiness. Waving colored flags at a march. Dressed in novelty tee shirts (rock-paper-scissors, the last word in rainbow text; he snorted when the joke landed). In an aquarium with miniature sharks (Maya looked positively ecstatic in that one).

Sao didn’t want to look at any more of that collection. As with the ‘sleeping’ form of Aquila, it felt voyeuristic and cruel, like he was dissecting something alive. And they were alive, as far as he knew.

These deletions were the scars of Maya’s breakup. There was a notation from Hro in the footnotes of the email that rubbed him the wrong way.

Sponsored merch companies chasing M.L. since Dec. A reason for her to fake death.

At least that would mean she’s alive, he told himself. At the very least.

Aquila was alive, he knew that for sure. But her state of living brought no peace.

In most of the photos taken before Sapphire’s death, the girls were pictured solo, or in groups of two. Four, at best. There were no photographs of all five together; that had been the source of a certain problem, hadn’t it? He and Rai hadn’t a picture of the whole group, so they showed Sapphire separately.

Setting the cutoff to a month ago, pictures of the group of four became more frequent. Hazel, Jasmine, Orchid and Maya. Naturally, Sapphire wasn’t present, but the gears in Sao’s head began turning as he noted who was. He ran through all the images, deleted or cached, in quick succession, focusing on those featuring the Rock Pool. Decorum cast aside, he shot through Maya’s idyllic days with her girlfriend, Sapphire’s humiliations and many images of Hazel’s bloodied wrists, just to make sure.

When he reached the limit of what Hro had collected for him, he closed the files and sat back, massaging his sore neck. He reached to his bedside table (where both burner and original phone were sitting, the original looking quite outclassed) and picked up his original phone. He tapped out a message for Rai.

Got my phone back.

My contact pulled the cache and more and I noticed… pictures before Sapphire died have the group more spread out. No pic of all 5. I think with Sapphire, one of them was always taking the photo, so one or more were missing from shots

But after that, the group of 4 are always almost always shown together.

Question is, who took those pictures?

That would get Rai’s blood pumping. He probably needed it. Sao couldn’t remember him looking so dejected as he had that afternoon; it was a pillar of ash he’d left standing in the office when he left.

Today wasn’t the best. I really am sorry for hiding things and for what I said

Can talk more tomorrow

I’ll pick up some iced coffees to make up for it, ok?