Dued

Why did so many creatures show up in one place, all at once? Why weren’t my stilettos working on their physical forms? Where the hell did this -Noah

a.k.a. Roger- come from, and how did he pull off such a graceful little operation just to get a sample of my blood? How did he know my name? And how did he know I’d come exactly there?

As for the second-to-last question—I had a weak theory. But for the final one? A bold guess.

He might’ve known I’d go fight the bin monsters because he summoned them there to stir up trouble. That would’ve made sense—if I didn’t know, from years of fieldwork, that They weren’t capable of commanding or organizing. They didn’t have leaders or armies. Not unless we’re talking about those small hive-type clusters—like my recent trashy buddies. Those were the same species. They could team up.

Which meant... and I say this cautiously... maybe, just maybe, the Obscurity had produced its very first general.

And that, my friend, was a waking nightmare.

Because if They decided to march in with an actual army, the City wouldn’t last a single day. Humanity had only two things left that could hurt those monsters: the liquid in the flasks—rare as hell and only effective against lower-tier creatures—and, well... me.

But even I had my limits. I could only handle small squads. Today had proven that loud and clear.

The thought of my own weakness made me grit my teeth, and the chubby cabbie jumped in his seat.

– Everything okay? – I smiled at him reassuringly. – Don’t worry. I don’t bite.

But the strigoi did. And I needed to finish what he started. First, though— I’d gather intel. Talk to the Big Brains. That would come after the police station. Yep, this day would never end.

I sighed deeply—just in time for a sudden mental blast from Antwan, whose existence I had completely forgotten in all this chaos:

– Ali! You there?! Where did you go?! I almost lost my mind! You’re seriously freaking insane!

– Watch your tone, young man. – I snapped, both out loud and in my head, using full Auntie Command Mode.

– You’re not my aunt! – came the dual reply—one from the mouthy kid, and one from the cab driver, who now definitely believed he was chauffeuring a certified lunatic.

Luckily for him, we landed, and he promptly accepted payment and noped the hell out, warding off evil spirits with hand gestures as he disappeared into the night.

Meanwhile, I was still bickering with Antwan as I made my way to the Police Department.

– My sweet little pain in the ass, I don’t owe you a play-by-play. You know

what I do for work. I can disappear at any moment when duty calls.

– But I’m part of that work. Day and night shift.

– Obviously. – I softened my tone just enough to soothe the brat. – And no one’s taking your jobs away. I just got a hot call, couldn’t bring you along. I’ll tell you everything when I get back. For now—go to bed. It’s already morning. If you can’t sleep, watch the video I’m sending you.

– I’m not a baby... – he grumbled, then cut the link.

Eh. He’ll pout a while, then calm down. Especially once I tell him the whole story. His fresh eyes and sharp brain would definitely come in handy.

The Police HQ was painted a bright, cheerful orange, with LED garlands slithering along its walls. That color scheme came from a city-wide vote— people were sick of gloom and wanted even their harshest institutions to look a little more cheerful. Even the morgue got a pastel makeover—minty turquoise, baby. Now the dead could chill in full Disney ambiance. Sorry, that was too much. I'm tired, okay?

The building’s cheerful interiotrear clashed wildly with the sour expression of the front desk gremlin.

– What do you want?

– Come on, Juan. Skip the routine. You know me, I know you...

– Pass! – He shrieked with the zeal of a traffic cop on his first day.

Given my current mood, I was seconds away from causing a full-blown scandal—until salvation waddled into view.

A round man with receding hair and a wheeze to match appeared from around the corner, clutching his oversized glasses and barking:

– Let her in, Junior.

– Yes, sir! – Juan saluted, opened the door, and made a face like he’d just swallowed bleach.

I walked alongside the boss—his name’s Kim—as we headed for his office. The station was quiet in the pre-dawn hour, but we didn’t talk. There were cameras everywhere, and nobody needed to hear what we were about to discuss.

Once inside, Kim skipped the greetings and pulled a small device from a desk drawer, its soft glow filling the room like a nightlight. I didn’t waste time either—dumped the full data package from my implant onto the gadget.

He grunted in satisfaction, snapped the lid shut, and finally asked: – What brings you in, Dued?

My code name. In the language of the old world, it means - Death. Yeah, I

know—it sounds like a dime-store spy novel. But in our line of work, agents need codenames. And since I’m one of them, well... rules are rules.

In the City, native languages of different nations weren’t exactly in fashion. People only used them within their own ethnic circles. The rest of the time, everyone spoke the common tongue—koine, which was mandatory from childhood.

In this massive interethnic metropolis, humanity achieved yet another one of its age-old dreams. They had their own version of Esperanto here—and unlike its ancestor, koine actually worked.

That’s how I could casually chat with Juan the Mexican and Kim Soo- Hyun, who was Korean… or maybe something else, too. I never asked, and he never volunteered. What mattered more than nationality… was race.