Author's Note: Aha, why does it feel like I only update this story once a year?

Once he managed to snap out of his stunned panic, Hide decided he wouldn't let Rakko take him without a struggle. He kicked at the ground with his good leg, trying to clamber away from the ghoul. If he could get a few feet away—

Rakko's hand, the one that had been tight around Hide's throat and had been knocked away by a desperate elbow, yanked on Hide's tender calf. Hide's face smashed into the side of the log he had been propped against, the splinters from the rotting wood scraping against his bruised cheek. Hide sucked in a sharp breath and tried to swing a wild fist at Rakko's barred smile. It missed, only making the ghoul laugh harder.

"Ah, so there's the fire from earlier. I was hoping it would come back."

Hide tried to roll over onto his knees, but Rakko pinned him to the ground with a heavy boot. He felt his breath leave his body in a gasping whoosh, but it was a better sensation to focus on than the stabbing pain in his chest. First Ayato's kick and now Rakko's stomp? He wouldn't be surprised if his chest resembled a broken pack of crayons: snapped ribs and his skin a mottled range of reds, greens, and blues.

Hide opened his mouth to suck in more air—god, it was getting harder to breathe—and maybe scream for Kaneki, but Rakko's hand clamped around his mouth and chin with an iron grip. His hand was sweaty and sticky, tinged with the ghoul blood from his earlier fights, and Hide knew he would have been sick if there was anything left in his stomach to gag up.

"Ah, ah. Not a peep. We don't want to attract any unwanted attention. No need for anyone from base to hear us."

Hide froze. He had only thought of Kaneki, not of the scouts that Kaneki wanted to avoid. His screams would have caught Kaneki's attention, but it might have brought other ghouls as well.

If the others found me… Hide adverted his eyes from Rakko's crinkle-eyed grin. Kaneki couldn't take on the entire Aogiri Tree and expect to survive, but Hide was afraid Kaneki would try if it meant it was the only way to save him. No, it was better to go along with whatever Rakko wanted and hope the timing worked out.

He still wasn't sure if that meant he would rather Kaneki reach him in time or be too late. Rakko could easily kill Hide—that was a gruesome given—but could Rakko kill Kaneki too? Maybe Hide's death would be enough to satisfy Rakko's bloodthirst and Kaneki would realize there was nothing he could do.

(Maybe this whole plan had been a mistake. He hated all these sappy, morbid uncertainties.)

Hide felt the fight leave him just as forcefully as his breath had. Sensing no more resistance from his quarry, Rakko grabbed the collar of Hide's uniform and hoisted him up in the air.

"Come on. We're moving locations. Don't want One-Eye to find us before we get there."

Hide wasn't so despondent that he couldn't rustle up a glare. It probably looked ridiculous on his puffy and scratched face, but it was the only thing he had left. At least, as of now, he added halfheartedly, trying to boost his rapidly dwindling hopes. I'm not giving up yet.

"Yes, you'll see your dear friend Kaneki again. Don't worry, Dove."

Hide swallowed. Not the most reassuring.

They had gone off in their own directions, just as he thought they would. At least it hadn't been a violent splintering, Amon mused. They all still grasped to some sort of desperate hope that their missing teammate was still out there. Maybe working different angles will give us something… Anything.

Amon sighed and leaned back in his desk chair as far as he could until the hinges squealed. His hobbled pacing earlier had almost felt like progress—at least he was moving forward, even if he felt like a caged animal—but he was paying for it now. His injured leg throbbed in the cast and he eyed the bottle of prescription painkillers on the edge of his desk. Just an arm's length away, if he so desired.

Instead, Amon reached for a thick folder on the opposite edge of his desk. He had looked through it a dozen times, unable to bury the nagging sensation in the back of his head that Eyepatch had something to do with all of this. He drummed his fingers on the manila file cover, repeating Tanaka's description of the ghoul in his mind.

Hell, for all that we know, that might have been some random kid. Tanaka-san probably saw a lot of masks that night. How can we know for sure that he saw Eyepatch's mask?

He pinched the bridge of his nose and flicked open the folder anyway. It wasn't like he was going to learn anything new the thirteenth time around, but there wasn't much more he could do except flip through papers and stew in his frustrated unhappiness. Amon leafed through the various reports and lingered on his shoddy sketch of the ghoul, done only a few hours after they loaded Mado's mangled corpse into a body bag.

Even if this was the ghoul Tanaka-san saw, what does he have to do with Nagachika?

He supposed they were from the same ward, but that was a flimsy link. They both were young, perhaps the same age.

They'd be what, twenty?

The same age as a couple hundred thousand other kids. Another flimsy link.

Amon rolled his eyes with a dry scoff. Sometimes he forgot he was only a few years older than Nagachika. For some reason, their difference in age seemed much wider.

Amon's eyes glazed over Nagachika's messy desk a few meters away. Maybe that's why. A few leftover burger wrappers still lingered in Nagachika's waste basket and several files were left opened, fanned out across the desk as if Nagachika would stroll back into the room any moment.

Amon shook his head and tried to focus on his own desk, but his gaze kept shifting back to the desk, drawn like a magnet. What if he never had the chance to lecture Nagachika on his chaotic disorganization? What if someone came to collect his personal things and had to sort through all this mess? What would they think of Nagachika?

Amon sighed again and pushed himself back into a standing position. He hobbled towards Nagachika's desk and neatly tucked the papers back into their respective files. He surveyed his handiwork with a tightlipped nod, but the sight of the case file stacks still didn't satisfy him.

Amon cast a cautious glance over his shoulder—he needn't have worried about being observed; the building was mostly abandoned at such a late hour—before opening one of Nagachika's desk drawers. He tried to rationalize his intrusion of Nagachika's privacy as a necessary step towards cleanliness, reminding himself that he was just going to hide the files away from any prying eyes.

However, curiosity got the best of him and instead of packing away what had been left on Nagachika's desk, Amon spread out the contents of Nagachika's drawers across the desktop. He challenged himself with a new argument: prying through Nagachika's stuff might shed some light on his disappearance and it was his responsibility as an investigator to explore every possible avenue.

Satisfied with his mission's solid justification, Amon picked through the various things Nagachika had squirreled away in his desk. Most of it seemed like mundane junk: some pens, a couple of energy bars, and some crumpled up receipts from the same coffee shop. However, Amon felt his interest piquing when his fingertips scraped against the glossy finish of a photograph buried deep in the back of the bottom drawer. He pulled it out and tilted his head as he tried to identify the photograph's two subjects.

Nagachika was easy enough to spot, with his messy hair and an arm slung around the neck of a shyly smiling teenager. He squinted at the second boy with his dark hair and downcast eyes just familiar enough to make Amon pause a little bit longer. A friend of Nagachika's? I wonder who he might be.

Amon set the photograph aside and dug deeper in the bottom drawer. He pulled out a crinkled cut out of a newspaper article about a construction accident over a year ago. Right around the time when he was reassigned to the 20th Ward with Mado.

Wonder what Nagachika's doing with that. And all these copies, he added, flipping through several darkened Xerox copies of ghoul reports from around the same time.

He glanced back at the old photograph. Something about the second boy seemed so familiar to Amon, like a distant memory he couldn't quite grasp.

Maybe he was killed in a ghoul attack. That might be why Nagachika has all of this, to get some extra information and find his killer. It wouldn't surprise Amon; people came to the CCG regularly for vengeance.

Amon shook his head and grabbed the photograph, ready to pack it all away. He really had no business looking through all of this. He glanced down one more time, noting that his thumb covered over the boy's mouth and partially concealed one of his eyes.

Wait… It can't be—

He hobbled quickly to his desk, keeping his death grip on the photograph as he shuffled through his case file on Eyepatch. He held the rushed sketch to the photo, noting the similarity in shaggy haircuts and rounded, soft cheeks.

It's just a coincidence. But what if… Nagachika's friend—could he really be Eyepatch? Does that mean—

Seidou's flushed face appeared in the doorway. Amon started at his sudden appearance, but Seidou seemed too concerned with catching his breath to mention it.

"Huuuh, ahhh, great—you're still here!" Seidou waved a notebook as he collapsed in Amon's vacated chair. He hoisted an eyebrow at Seidou's mistake but waited to hear what his subordinate had to say.

"I think I found the connection between this attack and the one in the 11th Ward!"

While Akira rushed away to interview more witnesses, Amon had remained in the office, flipping through the same file. Seidou figured he'd only get in the way if he followed either of them, so he shuffled towards the cafeteria. It was well into the night, so only a few of the night staff were strolling through.

Well, the night workers and the insane, Seidou sniffed, eyeing the back of Suzuya's colorful suspenders a few meters away. He took a hasty step backwards and turned to leave, hoping he hadn't been spotted yet.

"Oooooh, Boooring-kun! What are you doing here so late?"

Seidou winced and pursed his lips. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Suzuya's giggling taunting, not when he had bigger problems. Something in his demeanor must have conveyed this, as Suzuya tilted his head at Seidou's sour expression.

"I could ask the same of you," Seidou countered, inching backwards ever so slowly.

"So? I asked first! Aren't hiding any secrets, are you?" Suzuya was relentless.

Seidou hesitated before answering. Was this really something he wanted to share? Not really, but he knew the brat would be insufferable if he didn't get what he wanted.

"A member of my squad went missing after the warehouse raid. The rest of us—we're still looking for him."

"Oh." Suzuya made a tutting sound in the back of his throat, seemingly disappointed with such a mundane reason. "You shouldn't bother. He's probably dead," he said, picking at one of the stitches on his knuckles with a disinterested expression.

Seidou gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to ball his loose fingers into fists. "Nagachika's still out there and we're going to find him," he insisted, the syllables more clipped than usual.

"It's the part-timer who's missing? Then he's definitely dead." His bark of laughter was harsh and devoid of its usual joy.

"He's a lot smarter than you think!"

The story of Nagachika's risky mission to track down the Aogiri base remained fresh in Seidou's head. He knew he was spilling confidential information, but he couldn't help himself. Not when Suzuya didn't know how much Nagachika had risked helping the CCG.

Hell, what he risked saving us last night, he added, recalling Akira's story about how they managed to escape the warehouse because of Nagachika's sacrifice.

Suzuya didn't react to Seidou's frustrated outburst, so he continued to babble about Nagachika's reconnaissance mission before he joined the CCG. If Suzuya was impressed when Seidou finished, his blank expression revealed nothing.

Seidou felt the urge to make one more remark. He doubted it would lessen the aching pound in his head, but he was willing to try.

"The way I see it, Nagachika deserved to get a promotion from that mission more than you. You just—you just lobbed the head off some ghoul! And, I—uh, I heard he was almost dead already."

(A rumor from a quinque tech who had processed the body. Seidou hated that he couldn't recall the guy's name, because he would have gladly tossed him under the proverbial bus.)

Now a bit terrified by his uncharacteristic boldness, Seidou paled and tried to come up with a suitable reason to slip away before Suzuya decided to retaliate. However, before he could stutter out an excuse, Suzuya tossed his head back with a loud laugh, a different sound from before, though it felt just as sharp.

Instead of denying Seidou's accusations, Seidou nodded. "Mmmhmm, someone came along and nearly killed my Jason before I could do it all myself. I saw him too—his hair looked so much like mine that I let him run right past me!" He laughed again and Seidou made a face.

"Hair like yours—wait, you mean he had white hair? Was he young? Could you see a mask?"

How many white-haired ghouls were out there, running around and attacking Aogiri Tree members? Not many, if he had to hazard a guess. It was a stretch, but maybe this ghoul was the one Akira mentioned earlier. The one from the warehouse raid had seemed just as aberrant.

Suzuya didn't answer, instead turning around and sauntering towards the exit. Seidou grumbled under his breath before racing after him. He was certain Suzuya was doing this to torture him, but he would suck it up for Nagachika's sake

"You didn't answer my questions!"

"'Cause I didn't want to. Why should I care about some missing investigation assistant?"

Seidou groaned, shifting from foot to foot. "Listen—just answer the questions and I'll leave you alone."

Suzuya stopped in front of the elevator and gave Seidou a calculating, side-eyed squint. It was a clear sign that his interrogation was about to be cut short. However, Seidou got the feeling that Suzuya knew more than he was letting on.

"There was a coffee shop in the 20th Ward. Shinohara-san used to take me there." Suzuya blew out air through his puckered lips before boarding the elevator. "Too bad it got smashed up right before the raid. They had such pretty cakes." He glanced back at Seidou. "Your part-timer brought me one once. Always talked about a friend who worked there."

The elevator doors closed and Seidou scowled at his reflection in the glossy metal paneling.

Coffee shops and fancy cakes? What the hell does that mean?

He shook his head and thought back to Suzuya's earlier statements. He couldn't shrug off the possibility that the ghoul from the base raid was the same ghoul that Tanaka saw during the warehouse attack. Skirting by the records room to pick up whatever information he could find on the Aogiri base raid, he then raced back towards his team's office, hoping at least one of his partners would still be there.

"Huuuh, ahhh…" Seidou panted, perking up when he noticed Amon hovering over Nagachika's desk. "Great!"

Wait…why does Amon-san look so guilty? Never mind—don't have time for that.

"You're still here!" He settled in the nearest chair and flipped through his notebook, where he had scribbled down notes from Suzuya's story.

"I think I found the connection between this attack and the one in the 11th Ward!"

"The 11th Ward attack? That was months ago."

Amon limped back to his desk, grabbing the thick folder Seidou had dropped on the desk. He flipped through the pages, recognizing typed testimonies from several of the investigator witnesses. He had skimmed through it earlier, right after first learning about Nagachika's involvement, but nothing had jumped out at him then.

"I talked to Suzuya—someone really should teach hi—"

"What did he say?" Amon interrupted.

"Oh, right. Uh, he mentioned that he saw a white-haired ghoul leaving the room where they found Jason's body."

Amon frowned and reached for a faded photograph of the grisly scene. "That room was some sort of torture area. There were ghoul bodies and severed appendages, but they were too damaged to identify…" he murmured, scanning over the report. Another detail he had passed off as being too creepy to understand.

"What if that white-haired ghoul, y'know, the one that Tanaka-san saw at the warehouse—what if he's the same one who was being tortured? That means the two incidents might be connected!

Amon didn't like the sound of that. If this ghoul was Eyepatch—the young, terrified ghoul who pleaded for humans and ghouls to get along—then horrendous torture might have twisted his optimism about coexistence into something sour.

Especially if he's with the Aogiri Tree now. His gaze slid back towards the photograph of Nagachika and his friend. And what does that mean for Nagachika?

"Did Suzuya say anything else? Anything that might help?"

Seidou puckered his lips and glanced away with a derisive snort. "Not really. Then he started prattling on about some coffee shop that got busted up right before the base raid."

Amon reached for one of the many crumpled receipts he fished from Nagachika's bottom drawer. "Was it called Anteiku?"

"Uh, yeah," Seidou's scowl dropped as he blinked at Amon. "It was. Does that mean something to you?"

He grunted and shook his head. "Not really. Apparently Nagachika visited it a lot though. It might mean something."

Amon suppressed the urge to groan. He felt like they were only tumbling further down the rabbit hole. How would a vandalized coffee shop help them find Nagachika? And what did his newest revelation mean, that Nagachika's friend might be Eyepatch? They were grasping at straws.

Seidou seemed to share his frustrations. "Uggh. I hate this feeling... Maybe Akira's found something?"

"Do you recognize where we are, little bird?"

Hide remained motionless, trying not to move after Rakko unceremoniously dumped him on the chilly ground. He had caught a glimpse of several CCG vans parked by the warehouse, but they were silent and empty, likely abandoned for the night. He strained to hear any shuffling or communicator static, but there was nothing apart from the distant hum of traffic several miles away.

He and Rakko were completely alone.

"Hmm? Know where we are?"

It'd be impossible to forget a place like this. Especially since I was here yesterday.

Rakko jostled him when he didn't answer right away. Rakko pouted in mock concern. "You haven't died on me, have you?"

Hide glanced away, turning his head as far as he could without making his ribs ache.

"Oh, good. You're still alive. Hard to tell with you delicate humans sometimes."

He had remained as quiet as he could while Rakko forcefully dragged him through the forest and back to the warehouse. He hadn't wanted to give Rakko the satisfaction of seeing him squirm or cry out. His control only lapsed a brief second when he inhaled sharply after Rakko yanked him through the dark, gapping warehouse bay doors. If Rakko noticed his hesitation, he didn't comment on it.

Rakko hauled him across the cold concrete floor, intentionally winding through the warehouse to make sure he dragged Hide through the partially dried puddles of blood. Hide wrinkled his nose.

Is this how ghoul's season their meals? With blood from other people? That's a little…too on the nose.

Their journey ended when Rakko wrenched open a door and threw Hide inside the darkened room before slamming it behind him. Hide uncurled from his tight huddle as slowly as his injuries would allow him and blinked at his new surroundings. He was in a smaller warehouse bay, illuminated by a fake yellow glow from nearby streetlamps. He swallowed when he realized where he was.

It's the second room. The one where Rakko…caught me.

A strange calm descended over him. It was so unlike the desperate scrambling from earlier, when he had raced through the warehouse to escape a rabid ghoul. He could finally take in his surroundings, including the door on the far side of the room.

Who does he think I am? Some idiot rabbit ready to give up and get eaten.

Hide rolled himself onto his hands and knees and crawled towards the door. He hoped Rakko had forgotten about it in the shuffle. He strained to reach up, feeling the tightness of his chest as he grabbed onto the door latch. He tried to twist the latch handle open, but it rattled uselessly in his grip.

"Come on… come on!" He hissed through his teeth, yanking the latch harder until he felt the sweat-warmed metal bite into his palm. He eyed the locked door again. The hinges were facing an awkward angle. Even if he were at peak strength, he wouldn't be able to break the door open either. It looked like there might have been some sort of keyhole, but he couldn't tell for sure in the dim lighting.

No use. Hide sighed and sagged against the door. So that exit is no good. What else do we have?

He gingerly turned himself around to look at the rest of the warehouse. There weren't any other doors. Just a few dusty windows well out of reach and a few smashed wooden crates. He could probably find a sizable stake, but he doubted he would have the strength to fight off Rakko if it came to that.

Hide resumed his scan of the warehouse. He almost laughed at the sight of his helmet a few meters away, near another puddle of his blood and several evidence flags.

A lot of good that helmet will do me now. Hide froze and looked back at the door latch. Wait—those flags. There's a metal wire supporting the flag. If I could get it out, I may be able to mess with the lock.

Hide sucked in a hopeful breath before crawling towards the puddle of blood. He grabbed the nearest flag and shredded the bright orange plastic from the thin wire.

"Yes!"

He was about to turn back when he eyed his helmet again. Can't hurt. He reached for it with a fond shake of the head but froze at the sight of his communicator tangled in the strap.

"My communicator!" He had forgotten about it in all the chaos, fearing it had been destroyed or dropped somewhere along the way.

"Thank yooou, Akira," he muttered, untangling the device from the helmet strap. Akira had forced him to wear the helmet earlier during their mission, claiming that if he didn't have it on then he couldn't participate. He never anticipated that her unrelenting order might end up saving his life.

Well, maybe. Jury's still out on that.

His communicator looked rather rough after its forceful collision with the wall. Several wires were exposed, and it made a mournful, staticky buzz when Hide tried to adjust the volume. He wrinkled his nose and fiddled with the earpiece, trying to hold it together long enough to try something. It was all for naught—he kept getting the same crackling feedback.

Tzzzst. Tzzzst.

That sounded a little different.

He straightened up and tweaked another wire. The same buzz sounded again. He rolled his eyes upwards, feeling a bit foolish to be talking to a broken communicator, but it was his best shot at getting out.

"Uh, hello? Is anyone there?"

Tzzzst. Tzzzzzzzzst.

"Hello? Hello?"

He couldn't imagine who might be near a raid communicator at this time of night, but he could have sworn he heard something on the other end.

Tzzzzst. "This is…" Tzzzzst. "Mado…"

Hide couldn't stunt the nervous titter that burst from his lips. It was Akira. If his team could rescue him before midnight came, then he could find a way to stop Kaneki before he came to fight Rakko. Nevermind how I'll reach Kaneki in time. I'll figure that out once I'm out of this dump.

"Akira! It's me—Hide! I'm in the warehouse!"

Tzzzst. "This is…" Tzzzst. "Akira Mado. Answer if you can…" Tzzzst. "Hear me…"

"I'm here! I'm here! Can you hear me?" Hide knew he didn't need to shout to be heard, but he was trying to cover up his rising panic. He supposed he still had the lockpicking option but being so close to his team felt too cruel.

"Is anyone…" Tzzzst. "There? This is…"

Hide groaned and suppressed the urge to chuck the communicator across the room. He could hear Akira, but she couldn't hear him.

At least… she couldn't hear my voice. But she had to have heard something, otherwise she wouldn't have tried talking. Hide tweaked another wire, wincing at the jarring sound of staticky feedback. It might be enough.

Hide was about to try talking again when the door where Rakko had previously disappeared through exploded open. Rakko's wide crimson gaze landed on the communicator in his hands.

"What is that?"

Hide startled and tried to scramble away from the helmet, but Rakko was too fast.

He snarled and strode quickly towards Hide, clamping onto his wrist with a crushing grip. Hide sucked in a sharp breath and tried to hold out as best he could before the device slipped through his numb fingers. Rakko glared at the damaged communication device before stomping it repeatedly into the concrete. Hide winced at each furious footfall, realizing it was only a matter of time before Rakko turned that rage on him.

Satisfied when he had reduced the communicator to severed wires and plastic splinters, Rakko straightened up and grinned at Hide. Despite the glinting teeth, the rest of his expression was painfully humorless.

"I'm done with waiting."

That's it. There are no more leads.

Akira slumped over the breakroom table and rested her chin in the folds of her crossed arms. She had been so certain that interviewing the other survivors of the warehouse raid could provide some answers, but she had come up with nothing. No one could remember seeing Nagachika, nor did anyone notice a white-haired ghoul running around. The closest she had come was when a few shuddering investigators recalled their encounters with a bloodthirsty ghoul with a crooked grin.

That must have been him. The ghoul who attacked us.

Still, they hadn't been able to offer any more help and Akira thanked her informants with a polite but discouraged nod.

Get some rest, they had told her with sympathetic pats to the shoulder. Go home and try not to think about your partner. They'll find him eventually.

Akira sighed and straightened up. Maybe they were right. Maybe she needed some time to clear her head. She had been in the same clothes for nearly two days now. She couldn't remember her last genuine meal and she was certain she reeked of blood and sweat. As much as Nagachika might need her and the others, she couldn't go on like this and still be productive.

She reached up to rub her aching temples and felt her thumb brush against the smooth plastic of her communicator. Apart from a few crackles, it had been mostly silent of speech since the mission's end. After all, there was no longer a need for orders from their superiors anymore. She must have forgotten about it in her frenzied rush to find Nagachika. Or maybe a part of her subconscious had wanted to keep it in, just in case she heard the impossible.

No use in hoping anymore.

Akira yanked the earpiece from around her ear, finally ready to shut it off.

Tzzzst. Tzzzst.

Huh?

She squinted at the communicator and flipped it over. The crackle hadn't come from hers.

Probably just static from an earpiece that got damaged during the raid. The CCG clean up teams usually tried to retrieve the earpieces from the fallen agents, otherwise their channels would be filled with incessant feedback. They must have missed one and it's still active in the warehouse.

Her fingers curled reflexively around the plastic earpiece.

They missed one, she repeated. What if that earpiece was still attached to a body? What if they were still miraculously alive? It might explain why she was hearing static for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours.

Akira jammed down on the volume button until she could hear the crackling without needing to keep the device by her ear. The static was sustained, perhaps intentional.

"This is Akira Mado." She paused, but the only response was another long bzzzt.

She frowned and paused before speaking again. "This is Akira Mado. Answer if you can hear me."

Tzzzzst.

"Is anyone there? This is Akira Mado of the CCG."

Tzzzzzzst.

Akira sighed and dropped the communicator back on the desk before leaning back in her chair. Maybe it had all been in her head. She really needed sleep if she was getting so worked up over a few seconds of static.

Suddenly, the sustained crackle ended with a jarring, pitchy screech. Akira jerked upright, blinking at her communicator with bated breath. She waited another fifteen seconds, but the sound never came back. Whatever happened on the other end, it wasn't some technological fluke. She was sure of it.

What the hell was that? Did…did someone destroy the other communicator?

She took a deep breath before jumping to her feet and hurrying towards her team's shared office. Seidou and Amon where still there, huddling and muttering over a file on Nagachika's desk. They looked up quickly after she tossed her communicator on the file in front of them.

"I think someone's still in the warehouse," she announced in a rush of words before her mind could justify some sort of plausible excuse.

"Did they say something?" Seidou was practically bouncing on his heels. Akira noticed several empty coffee cups in the trash can. "Who was it?"

Akira mashed her lips together before glancing away. "Not exactly. They didn't say anything. The static sounded different though."

Now saying it out loud, she realized how ridiculous it all seemed. Static sounds different? I'm the one who sounds different. Like a desperate lunatic.

"Static?" Amon echoed.

"Sounds different?" Seidou ventured with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes. And then it cut off suddenly. Like someone destroyed the device!"

"Uh, how do you know they're in the warehouse?"

"I—I don't…"

They stared blankly at her. Akira sagged against the door frame with a frustrated shake of the head. "Forget it. It's late and—"

"There isn't anything else we can do here," Amon finished. He flipped the file closed and reached for his crutches. He hobbled towards the door and Seidou followed him out with a final backwards glance towards Nagachika's empty desk. They filtered out of the office in silence.

Amon hesitated before pulling the door behind him.

"The warehouse is on the way to my apartment. If you're already planning on—"

Seidou perked up with an eager nod. "I'll come too. I, uh, have to pick up some groceries on that side of town anyway."

Akira nodded with a faint smile. She didn't mention that the warehouse was nearly twenty blocks out of the way of Amon's apartment or that the businesses would be closed at this time of night.

"I'll meet you in the lobby then. I have to pick something up first."

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

Oh, and I firmly believe that Hide secretly bribes Suzuya with cakes from Anteiku so he won't kill his best (boy)friend and you can pry that headcanon from my cold, dead hands.

There are only two more chapters (I've already planned them all out...aren't you proud of this useless slacker?). Also, in honor of my ten year anniversary of being on (and writing fanfiction in general), I've announced a special goal on my profile page. Check it out if you're interested!