"An operation, you say?" Delirious grinned under his mask.

"Yeah," Brian responded before turning to Brock and Daithi. "Mind if we have a minute?"

"Sure. Just don't make out!" Brock snickered as he followed Daithi out onto the porch. Delirious groaned, pushing the door closed behind them. "What's up?"

Brian crossed his arms, staring downwards, kicking at the floor. "Your father sent me here to grant you a mission." Delirious sneered at the thought of his father.
"He wants you to go into Red."

Delirious was suddenly intrigued. "For what?"

"An arrest." Brian held out a file. "A Blue criminal has fled to our enemy's side; we need someone to retrieve him and drag him back. Willing to bring up the offer?"

Sometimes it's frightening how suddenly serious Brian can become.

He adjusted his hockey mask, gripping the paper file in his fingers and flipping it open. Newspaper cutouts of stories filled the folder; a picture was clipped to the side. He's seen him around the station.

This guy had a record.

"Outlaw goes by the name 4-0-7."

*  *  *

Delirious couldn't believe he was doing this. He inserted the thick metal key into the lock, carefully swinging open the wide gate of the Barrier. He glanced to his right, seeing a house with its lights in darkness.
He stepped onto the Red territory, sensing a sudden shiver. "This doesn't feel right.."

A building sat a bit down from the house, so he approached. As Delirious walked up, he saw a horse in a pen, laying on the hay, asleep. He stepped up onto the large stone platform of what looked like a blacksmith's Forge.

The gaslight was on by a door leading inside, but Delirious didn't think much of the detail. He rummaged around, attempting to open the locked furnace shutters. His fingers ran over the top of the overused anvil, the cracks in the thick steel nicking at his skin.

He zipped up his jacket, feeling the harsh, early Autumn breeze passing by. Air tangled through his short brown hair, and into the frame of the door to his left.

Delirious admired all the tools that hung on the structure: axes, hammers, pickaxes, coal shovels and coal tongs. A wood-fueled oven with burning logs was built into the wall, another metal door on the other side to access the cooking contents from inside the building.

His curiousity overwhelmed him. He quickly picked the lock, twisting the knob and allowing himself inside.

Trunks were pushed up against the side, as well as filing cabinets. A desk was at the opposite wall, papers in a neat pile. The wood-fueled oven's door was in the surface beside a stone table.

Delirious shook his head, tugging on his sleeves. The gaslamp continued to buzz outside, flickering every now and then as silence fell over him.

He turned around to meet a tall figure. "Wha--?"

Delirious was grabbed by the shoulder as the figure slammed the wooden handle of Smith's hammer into his collar bone. He collasped a moment after the contact, black fading around him.