Clockwork: You're good, Blue. But let’s see how well you handle this!

With a swift motion, Clockwork pulls out her gleaming knife, twirling it expertly between her fingers. Her smile widens into something more sinister.

Clockwork: Let’s make this a little more...painful.

Blue’s eyes narrow as he spots the blade. His breath steadies, and his stance shifts slightly, preparing for the deadlier threat.

He’s fought armed opponents before, but something about Clockwork, the intensity in her eyes, the chaotic energy she brings to the fight, makes him realise this is about to escalate far beyond a simple brawl.

Clockwork lunges at him again, the knife slashing through the air in a blur, but Blue is ready, sidestepping the deadly strike just in time. Their fight moves faster now, every second ticking like a heartbeat, with each of them waiting for the other to slip up.

The fight intensifies as Clockwork, with her knife gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the trees, goes on the offensive. Her strikes are fast, deadly, and precise, but Blue was ready.

His years of training and combat experience allow him to anticipate her movements, dodging and deflecting each attempt with his sharp reflexes. But despite his defense, Clockwork’s relentless attacks force him to step up his game.

With a calmness that clouded his aura, Blue narrows his eyes. A sharp metallic click sound was heard, and his wrist blade snaps into place, its edge gleaming menacingly. Clockwork’s eyes widen in mild surprise, followed by an excited grin.

Clockwork: Well, well, well. Jeff wasn’t lying when he said you had some toys!

Blue: These aren’t for kids, Clockwork.

Clockwork twirls her knife with playful malice, her smile never fading.

Clockwork: Oh, but it’s attached to your arm, isn’t it? Maybe I should cut it off. Little kids shouldn’t be playing with such dangerous things.

Blue raises his wrist blade, his expression serious, but with a hint of humour cutting through his words.

Blue: This "kid" is going to style over you.

Without another word, the two clash, their blades ringing out with each impact. Clockwork’s knife strikes with ferocity and speed, while Blue deflects and counters with the precision of a seasoned fighter.

Their movements become a blur, a deadly dance of blade against blade. Clockwork swings for Blue’s torso, but he deftly blocks it with his wrist blade, countering with a slash toward her arm.

Clockwork spins out of the way, narrowly dodging his strike, then lunges with the knife aimed at his side.

Blue sidesteps, twisting his body and bringing his blade down in a swift arc toward her wrist. She barely pulls away in time.

Clockwork: You’re better with that thing than I thought. It’s almost cute how hard you’re trying.

Blue: You talk a lot for someone who keeps missing.

Clockwork’s expression shifts from playful to dangerous, her smirk replaced by a sharp edge of frustration. She presses forward with even more speed, her attacks coming in rapid succession.

But no matter how hard she pushes, Blue matches her, meeting her blade with his own, the force of their clashes sending sparks into the air.

As their blades lock once more, they come face to face, inches apart, both of them breathing heavily but neither willing to back down.....

Okay, Blue wasn't breathing heavily. His stamina is built different.

Clockwork: You think you’re clever, don’t you? But I’ll cut that smugness out of you.

Blue: Go ahead

With a sudden surge of strength, Clockwork disengages and attempts a vicious slash aimed at Blue’s throat, but he ducks just in time and delivers a spinning kick to her side, sending her stumbling back.

The two pause for a split second, eyes locked, both of them sizing each other up. The next move could tip the scales, but for now, they seem evenly matched, a dangerous predator and a skilled survivor locked in a brutal game neither is willing to lose.

The fight rages on beneath the canopy of towering trees, their leaves casting shifting shadows over Blue and Clockwork as they continue their deadly dance.

The sunlight that breaks through the gaps in the foliage creates an almost surreal backdrop, flickering light and shadow playing across their faces as they clash, their movements fluid and relentless.

Clockwork lunges again, her knife gleaming in the dappled sunlight, but Blue is ready. He sidesteps her strike with ease, the wrist blade deflecting her blow, sending sparks flying.

The sound of steel on steel echoes through the forest, but it’s clear to both of them that this battle won't be decided by their blades alone. Clockwork's attacks become more erratic, a mix of frustration and determination fueling her.

She swings wildly at Blue, but he dodges with agility, weaving through her strikes with precision. He knows he can’t rely solely on his wrist blade to win this fight, he needs to break her rhythm, to throw her off balance.

As Clockwork comes in for another strike, Blue ducks low, dodging her blade and closing the distance between them. Before she can react, he drives a powerful punch straight into her ribs, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through her body.

Clockwork stumbles back, her breath caught in her throat, a look of shock flashing across her face. She hadn’t expected such power from him.

But Blue doesn’t stop there.

With Clockwork momentarily off balance, Blue follows up with a swift, brutal kick to her stomach, the impact lifting her off the ground and sending her crashing into the trunk of a nearby tree.

The sound of the collision echoes through the forest, the wind knocked out of her as she falls to her knees, clutching her midsection in pain.

Clockwork: Gah!

She grits her teeth, her eyes wide with disbelief as she struggles to catch her breath. She expected Blue to fight well, but this, this was something else.

Her blade had been nearly useless against him, and now, his strikes were taking their toll. She thought to herself, "What type of monster was this?".

Clockwork: Damn you, Blue....H-How are you doing this?

Blue doesn’t answer right away, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stands over her, his wrist blade gleaming but untouched. His piercing gaze is focused, calculating, knowing full well that she’s far from finished.

Blue: It's honestly simple to think about and understand, Clockwork. I'm not as normal as you think

Clockwork wipes the corner of her mouth, her fingers coming away with a smear of blood. She chuckles darkly, forcing herself to her feet despite the pain coursing through her body.

Clockwork: Heh...not bad, Blue Light. Not bad at all. But don’t think I’m out yet.

Her grin returns, though there’s a grim edge to it now. She knows she’s been hurt, but she’s not about to let that stop her. In fact, the thrill of the fight only seems to fuel her more.

Clockwork: That hurt....but now I’m really going to enjoy cutting you down.

Blue doesn’t flinch. He knows Clockwork well enough to understand that this fight is far from over, and that as much damage as he’s dealt, she won’t stop until one of them is lying in the dirt.

The two stand there for a moment, the wind rustling the leaves around them, the sunlight flickering over their battle-worn faces. Then, without another word, they charge at each other once more, the intensity of their battle growing with every passing second.

The fight continues to heat up, both Blue and Clockwork moving with relentless energy under the flickering sunlight. Clockwork, having regained some momentum, manages to land a few well-placed cuts on Blue.

They aren't deep, but they sting, leaving thin lines of crimson on his skin. It’s enough to make her smile, proof that Blue isn’t invincible, that he can be hurt after all.

Clockwork: There it is, I knew I'd get through eventually!

Blue, however, doesn’t falter. He grits his teeth, his focus sharper than ever. He disengages the wrist blade with a quick flick of his arm, knowing that brute force won’t win this fight anymore, it’s time for something decisive.

Clockwork lunges again, knife aimed at his side, but this time, Blue sidesteps with practiced precision, letting her momentum carry her forward.

In one swift movement, he pivots, delivering a crushing blow to the side of her head with the palm of his hand. The impact is brutal, sending Clockwork stumbling back.

Before she can regain her balance, Blue follows up with a solid punch to her temple, the force of it too much for her to withstand.

Her knife slips from her hand, falling to the forest floor as she collapses, unconscious, a thin stream of blood trickling from the top of her head.

Blue stands over her, wiping a trickle of blood from one of the shallow cuts on his cheek. He looks at the blood, feeling....disappointed in himself.

Blue: That was a bad display. I am getting weaker....

He pulls out his phone, already dialing.

Blue: Norman....I found Clockwork...she’s down.

There’s a pause on the other end before Norman’s voice comes through, cool and direct.

Norman: Dead?

Blue: Unconscious

Norman: Nice work, Blue. Normally I’d be shocked at how you pulled this off, but...I know you better than the others do.

Blue looks down at Clockwork, her chest still rising and falling steadily. The fight may be over for now, but he knows it’s only temporary.

Blue: Yeah....to the station?

Norman: Yes. When she wakes up, we’ll question her. You’ll have to be there as security, she’s not going to make this easy.

Blue: Hn

Blue was already mentally preparing for the next phase of this confrontation. He knew Clockwork wouldn’t stay down forever, and when she woke, she’d be just as dangerous as ever.

But that’s a problem for later, for now, he’d done his job. And he knew this was far from over. Blue wipes the blood from his knuckles and sighs, glancing down at the unconscious Clockwork.

Without hesitation, he crouches and scoops her up in his arms, lifting her in a bridal style carry. Despite the battle they just had, he handles her with a strange care.

Her head lolls to the side, blood still dripping from the wound on her temple. The walk back through the forest is quiet, save for the distant sounds of birds and rustling leaves.

The adrenaline from the fight is starting to fade, replaced by the weight of what’s to come. As Blue approaches the house, Vanessa rushes out, her eyes wide with concern.

Vanessa: Blue! What happened? We heard a crash and found nothing but a broken wall and-!

She stops mid-sentence, her gaze falling on the unconscious figure in his arms.

Vanessa: Is....Is that one of them?

Blue nods, adjusting his grip slightly on Clockwork.

Blue: Ye. Her name’s Clockwork. We’re taking her back to the station.

Vanessa’s eyes flicker with surprise, but she nods, quickly recovering from the shock.

Vanessa: Understood. Let’s get her out of here.

She leads the way to the police cruiser, opening the back door for Blue. He gently places Clockwork in the back seat, securing her as best as possible before sliding into the passenger side.

Vanessa hops in behind the wheel, and the car rumbles to life. The drive back to the station is quiet, filled with the occasional glance from Vanessa towards Blue, who remains silent, staring out the window, lost in thought.

Time passes, and the station’s lights flicker overhead as Blue finishes securing Clockwork in the interrogation room. Her ankles are handcuffed to the legs of the chair, her hands bound together in front of her.

She remains unconscious, her breathing steady but shallow. Blue sits across from her, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches her.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before she wakes up, and when she does, the real battle will begin. Not with blades and fists, but with words and minds. He’s prepared for that, though. He has to be.

As he sits in the dim room, his thoughts wander. No one has ever taken down Clockwork before. She’s always been too fast, too lethal, and too unpredictable for the others.

But he managed to bring her in, and that’s going to change things. It’ll draw attention, both from the public, who will see him as a hero, and from the other killers who stalk the shadows.

Some will see him as a threat. Others will be intrigued, eager to test themselves against the one who took down Clockwork.

Blue: Jeff is going to hate this, if he didn’t already want to kill me, this will definitely make him try harder.

But there’s another thought that lingers at the back of his mind, someone who stands out from the other killers he’s faced.

Sally Williams.

She wasn’t like the others. When they met the other day, she had been kind, almost innocent in her demeanor, despite the dark world they were all a part of.

There was no malice, no threat in her eyes when she looked at him. In fact, she had seemed almost fond of him, as if the violence and chaos didn’t interest her.

Blue shakes his head slightly, pushing the thought away. Sally is different, sure, but that doesn’t mean the others will be.

If anything, this victory over Clockwork will only put a target on his back. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he watches Clockwork stir slightly in her chair, her face twitching as she starts to regain consciousness.

The room feels heavier, the tension building. The battle may have been won, but Blue knows the war is far from over.

Blue leans back in his chair, arms folded as he waits for Clockwork to wake. The room is silent, save for the hum of the overhead light. He knows Norman and Lawson are on their way to handle the interrogation, but he’s not in a hurry.

This time alone with Clockwork, before the others arrive, feels like an opportunity. He wants to see how she reacts, how she handles being vulnerable for once.

As the minutes tick by, he notices subtle movements, her fingers twitch, her head shifts slightly, and then her eyes flicker open. Clockwork blinks a few times, the grogginess fading as she takes in her surroundings.

When her gaze finally lands on Blue, there’s a flash of recognition followed by something sharper, defiance. She realises she’s handcuffed to the chair, her ankles bound, and a sneer begins to form on her lips.

Clockwork: Where am I...oh, right. The station. Should’ve guessed.

Blue: You’re in the interrogation room. And you’re going to need to cooperate

Clockwork’s eyes narrow as she shifts in her seat, testing the restraints, clearly unimpressed.

Clockwork: Cooperate? With you? Hahaha! Not a chance, brat!

Blue expected as much. He sighs before looking directly at her, his voice taking on a different tone, deeper, more intimidating, yet laced with a strange calmness.

Blue: I’m asking you to comply....Natalie.

The moment he says her real name, Clockwork freezes. There’s a flicker of something unfamiliar in her eyes, her bravado cracking just slightly. The way he said it....Natalie...wasn’t just a name.

It carried weight. An undercurrent of authority, dominance even, that made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t used to. To her surprise, she feels a warmth creep up her neck, her cheeks flushing.

It’s unexpected, and she hates it, but at the same time, there’s something oddly....appealing about the way Blue said her name. It wasn’t mocking, nor was it cruel, it was like he knew her, saw right through the mask of “Clockwork” she wore.

Clockwork: Don’t....call me that

She mutters, her face still warm, trying to regain her composure. Blue watches her reaction but doesn’t seem to fully grasp why her face is red.

Blue: You can refuse all you want, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to answer our questions. If you make this harder for yourself, it’s not going to end well.

Clockwork bites her lip, feeling oddly cornered, but something about the way he called her Natalie still lingers in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. She exhales sharply, the defiance in her eyes dimming slightly.

Clockwork: Fine, but don’t think this means I’m giving up.

Blue gives a small nod, satisfied with her change in tone. He’s about to respond when he notices the bruise forming on her face, and the small cut on the top of her head from their earlier fight.

He frowns slightly, realising that even though she’s a killer, he can’t just leave her like that. Without a word, he stands and walks out of the room. Clockwork watches him leave, confused but not entirely sure what to expect.

When he returns, he’s holding a medical kit. She raises an eyebrow as he sets it down on the table and starts rummaging through it.

Clockwork: What are you doing?*

Blue doesn’t look at her as he pulls out some antiseptic wipes and gauze.

Blue: You have a bruise and a cut. I’m cleaning them up.

Clockwork stares at him, genuinely perplexed. Of all the things she expected from this interrogation, this wasn’t it. Her guard shoots up again, suspicious of his sudden shift in demeanor.

Clockwork: Why do you care?

Blue: Don’t worry about it. And I'm sure you won't like having that on your face at the moment.

She frowns but says nothing as he approaches. However, when he starts dabbing at the bruise on her face, she flinches, trying to move away.

Blue: Stay still.

Clockwork keeps squirming, uncomfortable with the proximity and the strange softness in his touch. Before she can pull away again, Blue gently but firmly grabs her face, tilting it upward so he can properly clean the wound.

His grip isn’t rough, but it’s authoritative, leaving no room for resistance. Clockwork’s heart skips a beat, her cheeks flushing a deeper red as his hand lingers on her skin.

There’s something almost intimate about the way he’s handling her, he’s careful, deliberate, and yet, he doesn’t let her have control.

She realises, in that moment, that despite the deadly force he’s capable of, Blue’s touch is surprisingly gentle. It throws her completely off balance.

Clockwork: You’re....really weird, you know that?

Her voice was lower, though there’s no bite in it. Blue doesn’t respond, focused on cleaning the bruise and the cut with careful precision. It’s only after he’s done that he steps back, his usual stoic demeanor returning.

Clockwork watches him, her mind racing. The rumors about Blue painted him as a hardened, ruthless investigator. A child mercenary turned private investigator.

But in this quiet moment, there’s something different about him. Maybe it’s because he’s young, barely nineteen, younger than most of the killers she’s faced.

Or maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the stories suggest. As Blue finishes tending to Clockwork’s wound, the door to the interrogation room creaks open.

Norman and Lawson step inside, their presence immediately filling the small space with an air of authority. Blue stands and quietly gestures to the chair he’s been sitting in, offering it to Norman without a word.

Norman gives him a nod of acknowledgment, stepping into the seat while Blue moves to the side of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Officer Lawson stands next to him, his eyes fixed on Clockwork, the tension in the room thickening with every second. Clockwork’s eyes flicker between the three men, her playful attitude from earlier fading.

She knows what’s coming, but her expression remains guarded. She’s been in situations like this before, and if there’s one thing she knows how to do, it’s keep her mouth shut when it matters most.

Norman adjusts in his seat, folding his hands on the table in front of him as he stares at Clockwork. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, a practiced authority that’s hard to ignore.

Norman: Clockwork, you know why you’re here. This doesn’t have to get difficult, but it’s up to you. We’ve got a lot of questions, and we expect answers.

Clockwork leans back in her chair, her arms still cuffed in front of her. She regards Norman with a cool indifference, not showing any sign of fear or intimidation.

Clockwork: You’re wasting your time, Chief. You know how this goes.

Norman raises an eyebrow but doesn’t react beyond that. He’s dealt with people like her before, but something about Clockwork’s quiet confidence makes him tread carefully.

Norman: We’ll see about that.

He pulls out a notepad, glancing down briefly before asking his first question.

Norman: We know you’ve been involved in a string of murders across the city. What we want to know is who you’ve been working with. We’ve already found evidence of collaboration with other killers.

Clockwork stays silent, her gaze flicking to Blue for the briefest of moments before returning to Norman.

Clockwork: Is that all you’ve got? Accusations and assumptions?

Norman: We have more than assumptions, Clockwork. We have witnesses, crime scene footage, and the bodies to prove it. But I want to know about your accomplices. Give us some names, and things might go easier for you.

Clockwork lets out a short laugh, shaking her head.

Clockwork: You’re funny, Chief. But you know I’m not giving you anything. Why don’t you save yourself the trouble and go after someone else?

Norman leans forward, narrowing his eyes.

Norman: You’re playing a dangerous game, Clockwork. The more you refuse to cooperate, the worse this will be for you.

Still, she doesn’t say a word, her lips curving into a sly smile. Blue watches from the side, observing her body language, trying to gauge what she’s hiding beneath the surface.

Norman sighs, leaning back in his chair. He’s calm, but the frustration is evident in the way his fingers drum against the table.

Norman: You can play tough all you want, but at some point, you’re going to break. And when you do, we’ll be here.

Clockwork just shrugs, clearly unfazed by the Chief’s words. At that moment, Officer Lawson steps forward, his demeanor far more aggressive than Norman’s.

He’s been waiting for his turn, and he’s not going to be as patient. He slams his hand on the table, the sound echoing in the small room.

Lawson: Enough with the games, Clockwork! We know you’ve been working with other killers. The evidence is piling up, and if you don’t start talking, you’ll wish you had.

Clockwork doesn’t flinch, even as Lawson’s voice rises. She meets his gaze with a steady, cold glare.

Clockwork: I’m not afraid of you, or anyone else in this room. You’re not going to get me to talk by throwing a tantrum.

Lawson grits his teeth, stepping closer, looming over her. His bad cop routine is in full effect, and he’s not about to let her walk out of this without giving something up.

Lawson: You think this is a joke? You think we don’t know what you’ve done? You’re lucky Blue brought you in alive, but that can change. People like you don’t last long, especially if you don’t cooperate.

Clockwork tilts her head, smirking.

Clockwork:....Interesting choice of words....

Lawson slams his hand on the table again, pulling her attention back.

Lawson: Answer the damn question, Clockwork!

But she doesn’t. Not fully, anyway. Despite Lawson’s intimidation tactics, Clockwork remains elusive. She gives just enough to keep them interested, dropping vague hints and deflecting more direct questions.

But she refuses to reveal anything substantial especially not about her accomplices. Blue watches the interaction closely, noticing how Clockwork reacts to certain questions.

There’s a subtle shift in her demeanor when specific topics come up, and while she’s keeping most of the information to herself, it’s clear she’s not invincible.

The back-and-forth continues, with Norman trying to coax her into talking and Lawson playing the heavy, but neither approach fully cracks her.

Despite the frustration building in the room, Blue remains composed. He knows this is far from over, and Clockwork, despite her defiance, is playing a dangerous game by withholding so much.

At some point, she’ll have to slip. And when she does, Blue will be ready. As the tension in the room grew thicker, Blue finally stepped forward, catching both Norman and Lawson’s attention.

He had been silently observing the entire time, but now it was his turn to take over. Without needing to say a word, the Chief stood and gestured for Blue to take the seat in front of Clockwork.

Norman and Lawson stepped back, exchanging a quick glance before nodding to Blue.

They knew he had a different way of getting information, and perhaps, that was exactly what was needed now. Clockwork, however, visibly tensed when Blue sat down. Her playful demeanor faltered as he fixed his calm, penetrating gaze on her.

There was something about his aura that felt...different. More persuasive. More unyielding. She felt the pressure building just from the way he looked at her, as though he could see right through her, into the parts of herself she wasn’t prepared to reveal.

For a long moment, Blue didn’t say anything, letting the silence settle over them. Clockwork shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her mind racing. This wasn’t like with Norman or Lawson.

Blue had a presence that unsettled her more than their authority ever could. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm.

Blue: Clockwork, let’s stop the tomfoolery until it is actually needed. I want to know about Zalgo.

Clockwork’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected him to go straight for the heart of it. She bit her lip, the tension in the room making it hard for her to breathe normally.

She could feel the pressure mounting, and despite her desire to stay silent, something about Blue’s tone, his coldness....it made it harder for her to resist.

Clockwork: Why do you care?

Blue: Because I know I’m a target. You and your friends have been watching me. I want to know why.

Clockwork hesitated. She had tried to keep that part hidden, but under Blue’s steady gaze, she could feel herself slipping. The more she tried to keep her guard up, the more it crumbled.

Clockwork: Zalgo holds meetings with the other killers....he watches over all of us. Keeps track of what we’re doing, who we’re after. And you....

She paused, her eyes flicking away for a moment before she met Blue’s gaze again.

Clockwork: You’ve become....interesting to him. To all of us.

Blue narrowed his eyes but remained silent, letting her continue.

Clockwork: Zalgo thinks you're different. He’s intrigued by you. He wants to see how far you can go. He wants to test you.

She swallowed, realising how much she was revealing, but she couldn’t stop. Blue’s presence was too overwhelming, and she needed it to stop.

Clockwork: The others....the other killers...they’re watching you. Waiting for a chance. You’ve made enemies just by being who you are.

Blue had suspected as much. He’d felt the eyes on him for a while now, but hearing it from Clockwork herself made the reality of it sink in. He was a target, not just by random killers but by an organized group.

And Zalgo...a literal God at the highest Position.

He had to tread carefully now that Zalgo was involved. Norman, listening from the side, nodded in satisfaction. This was the information they needed. He glanced at Lawson, signaling that they were done for now.

Norman: That’ll be enough for now. Good work, Blue. Let’s get out of here.

Clockwork looked between the three men, her confusion evident. As Norman and Lawson left, she called out, her voice edged with frustration.

Clockwork: Wait, you’re going to leave me here? I can break these cuffs, you know. What’s stopping me from walking right out of here?

Blue, standing at the door now, glanced back at her, his expression calm, almost amused.

Blue: We know. That’s why we gave you a pill while you were unconscious. It’s been in your system for a while now, making you weaker. You won’t be breaking anything at the moment.

Clockwork’s smirk dropped instantly, replaced by a flash of anger and disbelief. She cursed under her breath, yanking at the cuffs only to feel her strength diminished.

Blue’s eyes softened with amusement before he turned and left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Later that evening, Blue returned to his apartment, the weight of the day’s events starting to settle in.

After placing his trench coat on the back of a chair, he headed into the kitchen, preparing himself a simple dinner.

His mind, however, kept drifting back to the interrogation. Clockwork had cracked more than he expected.

But the knowledge that Zalgo was intrigued by him....that the killers were organising, watching him....it was something he couldn’t shake off easily.

As he sat down to eat, his phone buzzed on the table. It was his mother, calling from London.

Blue: Mother....

His Mother’s voice came through, warm and full of energy.

Blue's Mother: Blue, darling! How are you? I hope you’ve been eating well, hmm? You sound tired.

Blue smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair.

Blue: I’m fine, Mum. Just....tired...wait-

Blue's Mother: Haha, don't worry, you don't want to say anything so that I don't panic. But your mind and body will never betray me.

Blue: Too true, that

Blue's Mother: Yes, well, I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to let you know that Evelyn and I are planning a trip to Italy soon! A little reward for your Sister after finishing her first year at university. She’s so excited!

Blue laughed softly, imagining his younger sister’s enthusiasm.

Blue: She deserves it. Tell her to have fun for me.

Blue's Mother: Oh, we will, but we want to hear more about you, darling! You’ve been so distant lately. Tell me something nice. What’s been going on with work?

Blue paused, his mind immediately going to the killers, Clockwork, and the danger lurking around him. But he knew better than to burden his Mother with that.

She didn’t need to hear about the dark parts of his life, not now.

Blue: Nothing much, really. Just....solving cases....maybe I’ll come visit you and Evelyn when you get back from Italy.

His Mother’s voice brightened even more at the prospect.

Blue's Mother: Oh, that would be lovely! I’ll start planning right away!

The conversation continued for a bit longer, Blue steering it away from his work and the killers, focusing instead on lighter topics. His Mother’s laughter and energy made him feel a bit more grounded, even if the weight of his reality was still there.

Blue settled back in his chair, listening to the comforting voice of his Mother on the other end of the line. She was his anchor, a reminder of the life he had outside the darkness of his work.

Blue's Mother: Oh, and before I forget, darling, I’ve been looking at some places for us to visit in Italy. We could tour Venice! Or maybe Florence? Evelyn wants to see the art galleries-!

Blue: I'm not really an art person, Mother. I'm no ride or die of Mozart and that...or is it Shakespeare? No wait! It's the Ninja Turtles!

He laughed softly, though there was a tiredness in his voice.

Blue's Mother: Ahhhhh, you sometimes leave me bamboozled. Also, did you forget how much you used to draw?

There was a warmth in her words, the same warmth she’d always spoken to him with, even when he was just a boy. A time that felt so distant now.

Blue: That was a while ago, but maybe I’ll try and go there for Evelyn’s sake. But don’t get gassed, I might drift off in the galleries in search of actual fun

Blue's Mother laughed lightly, the sound lifting the heavy atmosphere that had settled around him since the events of the day.

Blue's Mother: You’re always so serious, Blue. I just want to see you happy, darling. I know you’ve been working hard, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too, alright?

Blue: I will, Mum. I promise.

There was a brief pause, and then his mother’s voice softened even more.

Blue's Mother: I miss you, you know. I worry about you. You’ve always been strong, but you don’t have to carry everything alone....those days are behind you.

Blue’s chest tightened at that. While his Mother was aware of the trauma he went through, she didn’t know the pressure of it....the things he carried, the ghosts of his past that never quite left him. But he didn’t let it show.

Blue: I’ll be fine, Mum. Don’t worry about me. Focus on the holiday with Evelyn. You two deserve it.

Blue's Mother: And you deserve one as well. We’ll talk again soon, alright? And maybe next time, you’ll have a nice story for me. Something about a girl, perhaps?

Blue:...You’ll be waiting a while for that one.....in other words, never.

Blue's Mother: You say that, but I know how good looking you are. I wouldn't be surprised if something...unexpected happens.

Blue sighs before himself and his Mother say their goodbyes, and as the call ended, Blue sat in the silence of his apartment, staring at his phone for a moment.

His Mother’s words lingered in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the life he could’ve had if things had been different.

But that life wasn’t his.

He stood and made his way to his bedroom, before collapsing onto his bed. Exhaustion tugged at him, both physical and mental, but as he lay there, the weight of the day’s events...and the memories that had been stirred up, began to sink in.

Sleep didn’t come easy.

When it finally did, it wasn’t restful. The dreams came quickly, and with them, the past.

In the darkness of his mind, Blue saw fragmented images, blurry and disjointed, like an old film reel. His childhood. The life he’d tried to bury, the memories he never wanted to relive. But in sleep, they came back with a vengeance.

He was young again, a child mercenary under his Father’s cold command. The sound of his Father’s voice rang out, distorted and echoing in the dream, like a faint whisper carried on the wind.

Father’s Voice: Blue, remember to always follow orders....like a good soldier.

His Father’s presence loomed over him, a shadow of control and authority, forcing him into tasks no child should ever have been asked to do.

Blue could see through his own eyes, his small hands clutching a knife, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached an enemy soldier from behind. His father’s voice urged him forward.

Father’s Voice: Strike to kill. No mistakes.

In the dream, Blue hesitated for only a second, but it felt like an eternity. He could feel the weight of the blade in his hand, the cold steel pressing against his palm.

His heart raced as he brought the knife down, the world around him fading into a blur of chaos and violence. The next scene was even more fragmented.

He was in an enemy camp, sneaking through the shadows. His Father had sent him to steal valuable intel, and the mission was clear: failure was not an option.

Blue remembered the fear, not of being caught by the enemy, but of disappointing his father. Of not living up to the impossible expectations that had been placed on his shoulders.

Another echo from the past.

Father’s Voice: Good work, Blue. You are becoming the real you.

Those words, those moments of cold approval, haunted him. Even now, in the haze of the dream, they cut deeper than any wound. He could see himself completing mission after mission, each one blurring into the next.

The blood, the fear, the exhaustion. It all swirled together in an endless loop. His young self, covered in dirt and blood, stood in front of his father after a successful mission. The man’s towering figure looked down at him, expressionless.

Father’s Voice: Do not fail me....or Death will come for you, like it has done to others.

Those words echoed again, louder this time, repeating over and over as the dream dragged him deeper into the memories he wanted to forget.

Blue’s body jerked awake, his heart racing, sweat dampening his forehead. He sat up quickly, breathing heavily as the remnants of the dream clung to him.

His Father’s voice still echoed in his mind, but now it was distant, fading away into the quiet of his apartment. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

These dreams, they were always the same. The past never truly left him, no matter how hard he tried to bury it.....at least he wasn't afraid of it no more.

He was mainly annoyed.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the wall, his mind still half in the dream. Then he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stand and walk to the window.

The night outside was still, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that swirled inside his head. This was his life now. Fighting not just the killers out there, but the ones inside his own mind.

Blue stared out of the window for a few moments, trying to shake off the weight of his dream. His chest still felt tight, his Father’s voice echoing in the back of his mind.

He wasn’t even sure if he could call them nightmares anymore. These visions, these flashes of his past...they were too real, too vivid. They weren’t just dreams, but memories, haunting him every time he closed his eyes.

Jokes on them, he wasn't scared.

As he stood there, trying to gather his thoughts, the soft vibration of his phone broke the silence. Blue glanced down at the screen, seeing a text from Lawson.

Lawson: "GET OVER TO THE STATION NOW!"

Blue: What the? Are we throwing a party? Is there ice cream?! Wait...

Blue's mind clicks the right way, and his eyes widened slightly. Something was wrong.

Without wasting a second, Blue quickly threw on his trench coat, grabbed his handcannon from the bedside table, and holstered it. His heart was still racing, but now it wasn’t from the lingering effects of his dream.

Something serious was happening, and Lawson’s message had confirmed that. Blue moved quickly through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air biting at his skin, though it barely registered. His mind was focused, alert.

Every instinct he had was telling him something was off, very off. When he arrived at the station, the sight that greeted him confirmed his worst fears.

The front doors were shattered. Inside, the scene was chaotic. Papers were scattered across the floor, overturned chairs, broken glass. But it wasn’t the mess that made Blue stop in his tracks.

It was the sight of Chief Norman and Officer Lawson, both hurt, struggling to stand. And standing above them, with an eerie calm, were Clockwork and Slenderwoman.
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Well, here is an extra long Chapter for you.

Won't be the last, I tell you that.