As Sean and Elise stepped onto the cracked road they both stared at the oncoming vehicle. Dust careened up off the road and into the sky in the vehicle's wake. Almost like a little child running in front of a kite on a windy day. Sean picked at the skin of his palm the cause of his discomfort not only being caused by a nettle's pricks stabbing into his fingers, but their

position on the lonely stretch of road. No matter how dark it was, they were an easy, visible target. And with what Sean learned about tonight was never stand out in the open.

Yet he and Elise were doing exactly the opposite of her own instructions. They were standing out in the open in the middle of a pothole riddled road that stretched four miles in two directions. Flat land for a full three hundred and give or take some degrees. In the short four minutes they had been standing there, Sean had already broken out in a cold sweat.

"Why haven't we died already?" He asked, his voice low and quiet. In contrast, Elise spoke with a nonchalant tone, as if she were making casual conversation in the halls of a high school.

"Because I'm alive." She replied. "So if I'm alive, you also benefit. And also, we're alive because of this."

Unbuttoning one clasp at the top of her cloak, Elise reached in and pulled out a leather strap. Attached to that leather strap was a large coin, roughly larger than a half-dollar. It was a brushed gold and auburn finish, and it had a small hole crudely punched at the top of the giant coin where the leather strap was tied. There was a symbol etched onto the face, and Sean had to squint and lean in to see it. On the face was a raised image of a triangular shield that was lain over two crossed short swords. A bird with a small head and a large torso with spread wings and lengthy plumage was the crest on the shield. Sean could see raised lettering underneath the symbol. He tried to read it, but it was much too dark to see, it was so small.

"What's the inscription at the bottom?" Sean asked, straightening and staring at Elise. Her face was unreadable inside of the shade of her cowl.

"It's Latin." She began. "And when translated it says, 'If you're reading this. . .then back up.'"

"Oh, wow. Great." Sean scoffed, rolling his eyes, although the effect was lost on Elise because they both were staring at the oncoming vehicle towards them. Sean tried again,

"Seriously, though. How is that trinket keeping us alive?"

Sean heard Elise let out an indignant chortle. She held it up higher, putting it closer than necessary in front of Sean's face.

"This," Elise shook it, making the golden object sway. "Is called the Medallion. But it's not a medallion, it's the Medallion." Then Elise paused. In the silence, Sean could feel her eyes on him through the darkened hood. "I would explain it to you further, but my guess is you would give me a confused look and harp about how I'm a raving lunatic."

Sean chuckled. "You don't seem like the kind of person to care about what other people would say about you."

Elise stuffed the Medallion down her shirt and buttoned her cloak, concealing the golden glow of the coin.

"You're right." She replied, staring down the vehicle that approached them. It was a large panel van. Elise turned to Sean.

"It's just that I'm hungry and I don't want the sight of your ridiculous, shocked expressions ruining my appetite."

"Now, hold on-" Sean started, but the vehicle was now skidding to a stop. Dust cut Sean's reply short, flakes of dirt flew into his half open mouth. The van was colored a dark shade of navy blue matte causing the entire vehicle to almost disappear into the backdrop of the night sky. It had a raised roof of about a foot and a half taller than most conventional panel vans. But when he squinted hard he could see three microscopic lines of antennas pointing up to the sky. The antennae looked like a sail on a marlin, short wire at the back, a long in the middle, and short at the front. It was an odd van. There were no logos, insignias, or company initials that Sean could see. The van looked like the kind he would warn his sister never to go near within a hundred yards. Sean found it impossible to see through the windshield, much less through the passenger's side window. It looked like something out of a television detective show, ready to spring a sting on an unsuspecting criminal.

Then the passenger side window rolled down and stopped, creating a five inch gap for a person's face to peek through.

Sean could see dual pin pricks of cobalt deep set in a leathery tanned face staring back at him. The corners of the eyes were lined and jagged, as if the person behind the glass spent most of his time squinting at everything he saw.

"Who is this?" The voice sounded like two pieces of sandpaper were being rubbed together. "Elise, tell me why I should allow this scamp to live."

"He's with me, Lance," Elise said, putting a hand on Sean's shoulder. Sean could see the eyes in the window gap dart to Elise and then back to him.

Sean flustered, "Yeah, she's with me-I mean, I'm with her-well, actually-"

The eyes fizzled with heat inside the van's cabin. Sean could swear he felt the heat bounce out through the gap of the window and singe his eyebrows. Then he stopped himself from rambling and just said,

"Can you get us out of here?"

The pair of pale blue spheres receded into the shadow of the van, the gravelly voice calling out, "Get in." The eyes stared at Sean for a harsh, long second, and then the tinted window rolled up. Just before it closed, the voice said, "And Elise?"

"Yes?" Elise raised her chin at the quickly disappearing eyes. The eyes stared back, squinting.

"I want a full and complete account from you when we get back to plinth. Every last detail."

The window snapped shut with a quiet thump. Elise patted Sean hard on the back.

She said, "Don't worry about Lance. Once you look past the rod up his butt, he's a really awesome guy."

The inside of the van was surprisingly comfy. Sean was sandwiched in between Elise and a thin, slender guy named Percy on canvas seats strapped to the wall. The three of them were stuffed on the left side of the interior while the entire right side was filled with electronic hardware, cables, and black boxes with built in fans. Jets of wind streamed back and forth, out and in across Sean's face. He felt it oddly relaxing, even soothing.

The driver cabin and the back of the van were separated by a thin mesh of chicken wire. From his cramped position, Sean could see the man Elise had called Lance through the slitted window. Just like the skin surrounding his eyes, the rest of his face and skin were just as leathery and perhaps even more weathered.

The man sat tall, straight, and square, just as if he did have a rod shoved into his butt. He had angular features, and Sean guessed he would cut himself if he bumped into the guy. His brows protruded outwards from his forehead and hung down over his pair of icy blue eyes, which were fixed in a constant gaze in front of him. And then they turned around and took in Sean's staring glance.

Sean avoided his gaze, looking down at the floor.

The man resumed his stone-like gaze out the driver's windshield.

"He's not all bad. Just don't stare too much at him; that really ticks him off." The man sitting to Sean's right said, raking a thin fingered hand through his short cropped brown curly hair. "He's just been through an insane amount of horrifying ordeals. Much like all of us, you could say." The guy smiled, the left side of his face twitching spasmodically, the top of his cheek slamming up and closing his left eye in three rapid winks. It was like watching him being flicked in the face by an invisible finger. One, flick. Two, flick. Three, flick.

All in rapid succession.

The man's face spasmed for three equal lengths, then stopped, his face relaxing. "Sorry." He apologized. "It's kind of a tic I have. Wasn't born with it. Got it from a mission while back. Sorry if it disturbs you."

"No. . . no." Sean said. He couldn't stop staring. "I'm fine." Finally, he forced himself to look away. The man to his right held out a hand.

"Name's Percy. I'm the head of technical operations in this tin can." The man nodded at the technological hardware stacked opposite of him.

Sean grasped Percy's outstretched hand. For a thin guy, Percy's grip nearly crushed Sean's knuckles. The wiry man gave a tired smile, not noticing Sean massaging his aching fingers.

"Is it true?" Percy asked after a moment of silence. "About Deuce being dead?"

"Harold?" Sean said, nodding. He stared at Percy, then at the floor. "Yeah. . . he's, um. . ." He looked at Elise. She had her hood up, her face was masked from view. Effectively expressionless. Devoid of emotion.

Sean glanced back at Percy, unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a second. Instead he said.

"It happened so fast."

Percy nodded, his eyes vacant. Staring at a nearby monitor; its screen was black.

He said. "It's a dangerous job. Probably the most uninsurable, insane, and heartbreaking job in the universe."

"Then why do it?"
Percy turned his gaze onto Sean. It was no longer vacant or distant, but filled with purpose. Suppressed passion. Hidden with excitement. Sorrow.

Shrugging slowly, Percy replied, "If not us, then who?"

Sean looked away, biting his tongue. He bit and chewed and bit until he said, "What is it that you guys do."

Not a question. Not an inquiry. Just a statement. A plain toned sentence that was as hollow as Sean's stare. Percy raised his knees. Lowered them. Scratched the back of his head. Rubbed the bottom of his left eye. Then he stole a quick glance at Elise, then reverted his gaze at Sean. Sean stared in front of him, at a solitary screw on a computer box. He could hear Percy clear his throat, and then say, "It's complicated."

Sean scoffed. "Right."

Sighing, Percy put his elbows on his knees. He dovetailed his fingers in an intertwined grip with his thin fingers.

"We're a clandestine operating force called the Vanguard. We-"

"Harold told me that part already." Sean cut in. He stared sideways at Percy. "Tell me what I don't know."

"Right." Percy said, licking his lips. They were chapped. Flaky, like the surface of glaze on a donut that has been broken.

"Okay. We're the Vanguard. You already know that. We deal with unnatural threats otherwise overlooked or even underlooked by the majority of law enforcement and government."

"Like what?"

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Like. . . demons. Warlocks. AWOL sprites and elves. Chupacabras. Dragons, even."

Sean nodded slowly, his head bobbing in exaggerated up and down movements.

"And ghosts and yetis and sasquatches. Okay. I see."

"Sean, it's not what you think."

Sean half-turned in his cramped space on the bench. "You don't know what I think."

Elise said through clenched teeth. "Sean. Be calm."

"Be calm?" Sean said, raising his voice. "Calm? Like you?"

Elise turned, the shadow of her hood meeting Sean's flushed face. With one hand she slipped the cowl back and stared at Sean. Her eyes were blotchy red. Her nose was colored a deep rose hue. Tear stained trails were visible on her dust covered cheeks. Her eyes were like stamped out embers in a furnace. Elise's gaze seared into Sean's eyes.

"It's been a long night", she said, her tone low and tired. Exhaustion making her voice brittle.

Elise shook her head, glanced at Percy, stared at Sean one more time, than cast her gaze on the floor.

Sean wanted to say something. He wanted to apologize. But he couldn't find the words. He couldn't say anything. His voice wasn't working. The air in the van seemed dead and stale, even though half a dozen fans were blasting cool air throughout the back of the vehicle. Then the silence was shattered by shouting coming from inside the driver's cabin.

"He's compromised our situation, he's completely incompetent as I see it!"

Sean's eyes flicked to the small window and saw the guy Lance give an irate stare at the driver. His eyes were wide, but not bulging. His voice was loud, but not out of control. The two up front had the nuance of a heated debate.

Another voice shouted in response, a small feminine voice. The woman had a contralto tone, and Sean thought she sounded like she were singing rather than arguing loudly. But by the way the conversation was going, Sean knew they weren't doing karaoke.

The woman's voice said. "He's confused, he's experiencing things that aren't natural to him! You know we can't just throw him out. He's a prime objective!"

Lance replied, "Yes, and we have other prime objectives too, like keeping each other alive! And tonight, we haven't exactly kept that standard, have we?"

"Look." The woman said, her voice becoming quiet all of a sudden. "I am sorry that we had to lose Deuce. And I feel responsible in my own way, I'm sure everyone does. It's natural. But that doesn't mean you have the right to lay all the blame on the Knite kid."

Sean stared at Lance who stared at the driver for a long, heated second. The big guy's crystal blue eyes were half-slits inside the cleft of his rock-like face. Then he peeked a glance over his shoulder and stared right at Sean.

"He's the one who screwed it all up."

Sean stared back. He could feel his eyes burn from staring, but he had a sneaking suspicion that if he blinked, tears would fall. Sean kept his sullen gaze on Lance. The big guy turned his head away, wrinkling his nose. Then the woman's hand rested on Lance's shoulder. She had long fingers the color of light bronze. They held the big man's shoulder, a gesture that could either mean she was restraining him, or giving a friendly touch.

"We'll have Smyth clear up everything. You'll see. You know what that man can do", the woman said, her voice sounding soft and firm, much like in the way she was touching Lance.

"Right", Lance said, and then became silent. He continued his brooding stare out the window.

Sean had to blink away the powers of exhaustion to replay the words the woman had just said. Smyth? As in Jon Smyth? Sean looked at slumped form of Elise. Then at Percy.

Could it be a coincidence?

Clearing his throat with the last bits of saliva that hadn't been vaporized, Sean asked, "Where are we headed? Where are we going?"

He looked at Percy, who just glanced sideways at Sean and reverted his gaze to a blank computer monitor. He tapped a key on a nearby keyboard, causing the monitor to come to life.

Percy said. "I would say, 'You'll see' under normal circumstances, but then. . ." He glanced over Sean and looked straight at Elise. Percy's face spasmed, but it wasn't the usual tick. It was a wince.

"We're going over-heading over to. . .what I mean to say is we're going to plinth", Percy said, his words piling up behind each other like a traffic jam.

"What is plinth?" Sean asked, scratching the back of his head. He faced Elise, but she was of no help now. She had her brooding cowl down over her eyes. Sean turned back to Percy.

"Will you just cut it short and tell me? What's so hard about that?"

Percy scrunched his mouth into a grimace and closed his eyes, releasing a pent up breath.

"Plinth is our base of operations here in the Pacific West Coast." Percy sighed. "It's supposed to be a secret, but you already work there, so I guess I might as well say what it really is."

"Yes, please do." Sean said, then added with a frown. "Wait. What do you mean 'I already work there?'"

Percy shrugged. "What do you think I meant? It's what I said. You work there already."

"The. . . the. . ." Sean tried to speak, but his tongue had grown large in his mouth. "You mean. . . the Hardrock County Museum? The Depository of old stuff? That's what you're talking about?"

"Yep." Percy said, turning away from Sean and began clacking away on the keyboard. The screen was black with red letters scrolling down in a line. It looked like code, but Sean wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything in the realm of computers. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"So you're telling me you guys know Smyth?" Sean asked, his mouth hanging open slightly. He shut it close when Percy turned to face him. Percy chuckled, a smirk covering his face.

"Know him? Heck, kid," Percy continued turned back to type lines of gobbledygook on the computer screen. "We work for him. He's our boss."