Guns and Spectres

Los Angeles, 2025

POV: Naga

I woke to the memory of her.

The last thing I saw before the world unraveled into dust was Haneul’s face. A whisper of wings, her lips trembling as she said words I did not yet understand.

I still see the way her hand lingered against my cheek as the universe split me apart. It makes this new world feel like a fever dream I can’t wake from.

Instead of stars, I had been cast into a place of glass towers and humming lights. I stumbled through Los Angeles like a ghost.

That’s when she found me.

Shelby Chen. A sharp tongue in a city full of masks. She didn’t laugh when I mistook a car horn for the roar of some monstrous creature. She only sighed, muttered something about “another lunatic,” and yet, for reasons I still could not fathom, she brought me into her home.

I didn’t know why she hadn’t abandoned me yet. Perhaps pity. Perhaps intrigue. But I suspect she had more reason to than she let on.

That night, she insisted we were meeting someone. Someone who might be able to help me find Haneul.

The scent of an angel was undeniably what caught my nose the day before. And not just any angel. It smelled exactly like Haneul. I would know—having grown so used to her scent. She had to be around here somewhere.

As we walked, I tried not to stumble on the cracked pavement, though every sight and every sound pressed against my skull like thunder.

Shelby walked briskly, her red hair catching the neon like fire. I struggled to keep up.

“Do you always stare like that?” she snapped without looking back.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like you’re seeing everything for the first time. Which, I guess you are, but seriously, close your mouth before someone thinks you’re about to start drooling.”

I blinked, and forced my lips shut. “I’m… adjusting. This world is loud.”

She rolled her eyes. “Welcome to L.A. It only gets worse.”

Her sarcasm cut, but not cruelly. More like a shield she had built to keep the city from swallowing her whole. I had admired it, even if I didn’t fully understand it.

We reached the building she had promised. From the outside, it looked like a nightclub pressed between two empty warehouses, its flickering sign barely legible. 

Club Envy.

The bass inside shook the walls, a rhythm that rattled the bones.

I tilted my head. “What sort of man hides behind music so loud?”

She smirked. “Try not to freak him out with your whole… mysterious ancient-vagabond vibe, okay?”

I didn’t know what “vagabond” meant, but I nodded.

Inside, the world exploded. Strobe lights carved the darkness into fragments. Bodies pressed together, intoxicated. The music was a heartbeat too fast, too relentless.

I froze, overwhelmed. The air was thick with scents I couldn’t parse; alcohol, perfume, sweat, smoke.

Shelby grabbed my wrist before I could lose myself. “Don’t look at anyone too long. Just follow me.”

I did. I had no choice. Though if someone were to pick a fight, I was confident they wouldn't be able to do even as much as lay a finger on me. 

We pushed through the chaos, weaving past dancers and bartenders until she led me to a plain black door at the back. A man stood guard. He had a shaved head, arms crossed, and an expression carved from stone.

Shelby leaned in and said something low. The man’s gaze flicked to me, lingered, then finally he moved aside. The door opened with a groan.

Beyond it, the noise of the club dulled to nothing. The air was cooler, cleaner, as though I stepped into a different building entirely.

We walked down a narrow corridor. At the end, another door. Shelby hesitated, glanced at me  then pushed it open.

Inside was much quieter than the outside.

A single lamp lit the room, casting long shadows over leather chairs and a desk stacked with papers. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes I didn’t recognize. The smell of smoke lingered faintly in the air, though no candle burned.

And there he was.

The man they called Mr. Specter.

He didn’t rise to greet us. He sat in his chair as though it were a throne, one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His suit was immaculate, raven hair dark enough to swallow the light. His face was young but unreadable.

One look and I could tell he was a troublesome type of human. Shrewd. Crafty.

“You must be Shelby,” he said, his voice smooth, even. Then his eyes flicked to me, sharp as blades.

Shelby straightened. “Yeah. He’s… new in town. Looking for someone. Figured you were the guy.”

Specter smiled faintly, though it never touched his eyes. “Everyone thinks I’m the guy.”

His gaze lingered on me. “What’s your name?”

“He doesn’t talk much,” Shelby cut in quickly. “Language barrier. Or trauma. Or both.”

Specter chuckled. “Convenient.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So. Stranger. You’ve come to my city. And you’re looking for someone?”

The weight of his words pressed against me. I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or an offer.

I nodded. “What of it?”

Specter leaned back, his eyes never leaving mine. For the first time since meeting him, I couldn’t read him. Not his pulse, nor his thoughts or his angle. 

Then, without breaking eye contact, he opened a drawer and pulled out a remote.

A soft click.

The wall behind him hummed, and a screen flickered to life. Grainy security footage filled the space, black and white, timestamped. An empty Los Angeles street, soaked in rain.

Then, lightning. A crack across the sky. And in the flash… me.

I stumbled into frame, barefoot, shirtless, ragged pants clinging to me like ash. The figure on the screen was unmistakably me, even through static.

Shelby sucked in a sharp breath. “What the…”

Specter raised a hand. “Watch.”

The footage looped, slowing. One frame I was not there. The next, I was. No approach, no entry, no shadow crossing into view. Just appearance. As though the storm had spat me out.

Specter clicked the remote again, freezing my image mid-stagger. He swiveled the screen toward me, his expression unreadable.

“Now,” he said softly, “explain this.”

The room grew colder.

I said nothing.

Specter leaned back, eyes narrowing. “You don’t look surprised. That bothers me. Most men would swear, deny, or scream about video tricks. You just stand there. As if being born out of thunder is natural.”

Shelby looked between us, her voice tight. “What are you saying?”

Specter didn’t answer her. His gaze drilled deeper into me. “I’ve seen strange men before. Fraud prophets, street conjurers, lunatics claiming gods talk through them. But you…” He tilted his head. “You’re different. You don’t move like them. You don’t think like them. And then this…” He gestured to the frozen image on the screen.

The silence thickened until even Shelby didn’t try to break it.

Specter folded his hands, voice almost casual. “So, stranger. If I can’t place you in this city’s web… maybe you’re not from this city at all.”

My chest tightened, but I remained still.

He studied me, lips curling faintly. “No. Not from this city. Not from this time.”

Specter was a very smart man.

The click of metal echoed too loud in the cramped room. My gaze dropped instinctively to meet a steel weapon, sleek and black, already leveled at my skull. I would later learn this was what humans called a pistol.

“Let’s take a gamble here.”

The barrel flared, splitting the silence in two as he took aim at my head from across the room.

BANG