The Sun peeks over the skyline, and the city is breathing in the brisk autumn air as Jonah steps out onto the sidewalk. Hands in his pockets, the hood on his old green jacket down, wearing Andrew's headphones as he checks his phone. Saturday Morning, mid October. The air prickled at his high cheeks and his sharp nose, his eyes squinted a little at that sudden gust.

Andrew always said his face kind of reminded him of a mouse. Never knew if that was a compliment or not. Putting that aside, Jonah fishes the map out of his pocket and checks the route again.

Subway ride across the River, get off on the Yellow line, take that for three stops, then two blocks to his place. Easy.

 

Down the street, there's construction going on near the intersection, a crane lifting new glass up to the rebuilt brick facade of the corner store that got hit during a fight about a month back. Shields ended up chasing some demons that wound up wrecking a van into the storefront, then decided to go down swinging rather than give up what they stole. Even made the news, though all Jonah remembers from then was how it messed up the bus route and had him leaving earlier in the day to make it in for work.

 

Further on down the street there's Old Pete's Pawn, TVs turned out towards the street, tuned to a mish-mash of channels. Reports of a new monster sighting on the chyron, adverts for new energy drinks, some old cartoon reruns here and there.

Jonah had read some posts about that, seen some articles here and there on studies he'd read about the Monster issue: despite the work that was being done, the amount of Monster activity in the city seemed to stay constant. Someone had called it “Magiostasis”, the balance between the 'good' sort of magical creatures and the 'bad' sort of magical creatures, and how it'd affect the non-magical among us. What it meant for businesses, investment and a bunch of other people Jonah didn't have enough money or social capital to worry about.

 

The breeze blowing out of the subway was warm, the slight tinge of stale air hitting him in the face as he headed down those stairs and past the turnstiles. Thankfully he'd made it during a thin time on the schedule: anyone heading to work was already gone, and the lunch rush hadn't arrived yet. Just a few other people down here on the platform: A lady with purple hair down to her waist, her eyes held to a compact mirror in front of her. An old man, gripping his cane, looking down at his watch before going back to staring at a billboard for a new mobile game along the far wall. A couple teenagers further on down the way, leaning against one of the support pillars, showing their phones to each other.

A shriek down the tunnel. The gentle rush of wind. The light splashed on the far wall as the subway approaches. It trundles out of the darkness, old polished metal crawling to a stop before those doors shudder open and let them on to sparsely-filled train cars.

 

And they're off.

 

---

At first it's a ride in darkness, the car shifting and swaying through the tunnels, before it lifts gently upwards and outward. The city passing by outside those windows, buildings and cars blurring outside as they turn and head towards the bridge out over the river. The early morning fog having lifted hours ago, leaving a soft blue-green heading out into the bay, clouds dotting the sky between the support beams and steel cables of the rail bridge. Even the headphones, currently playing some old tune from his playlist, couldn't keep Jonah from the squeak of the wheels on the rails, the rattling of the train car, the jostling that takes them back over land and towards the underground tunnel again.

Back into darkness. Stepping off at the next station to switch over to the Yellow Line, onto another Subway car, the rest of the trek taken in those dark tunnels. Until he stepped off that car, out past those turnstiles, and up into the cool autumn air once more.

It seemed quieter in this neighborhood. The streets seemed narrower, fewer cars on the road, more people walking on the streets but not nearly as loud. Trees line the sidewalks, the leaves in the middle of turning, a mix of green and yellow and brown that rustles in the slight breeze as Jonah makes his way up the block towards that apartment building. It's an unassuming thing, too, blending in with the others next to it, hard to pick out among the buildings next to it if he didn't have the address on his phone already.

 

The keyfob gets him in the front door easy enough, Jonah stepping in and slipping those headphones off as he takes a look around. On the inside it's a lot like his place, the mailbox wall across from him, a small sitting area, and a door leading to the elevator and stairwell. A quick glance gives him a chance to look for a camera, and it's easy to find in the corner, over the entryway door. He doubts the building supervisor is even in today, given it's the weekend.

Not a problem, then. He had a key to be here, after all. Act natural, take the stairs. Andrew lives in Apartment 303.

It's in the stairwell, between the second and third floor, that he hears it.

“...it up. We're already behind schedule.” One voice, direct and clear, to the point.

“Yes, ma'am.” Another voice, younger, slightly higher. Excited? Eager?

That stops Jonah in his tracks. Listening for more, but unable to make it out. The first voice seems to be murmuring about something but clearly not quite happy with how things are going, and the second voice is too quiet to hear at all, perhaps already inside.

Now or never. Jonah heads up the stairs, taking his time, making sure his hat was on snug.

 

In front of Apartment 303, a woman in a gray suit stands. Tall, slim but well-fitted in that suit. Her crimson hair tied back in a long braid, her black shoes tipped with chrome. A double-breasted coat buttoned up, showing the black tie and maroon shirt underneath, the figure cut to give her a defined silhouette. The pin on her lapel shining, a silver shield resting on two wings, a red ruby heart resting on the center.

Jonah doesn't linger, turning and taking the steps up to the fourth floor.

Fuck.

What were the Majestic Shields doing at Andrew's place?

 

His heart pounds out of his chest. He feels his palms go clammy as he reaches the fourth floor and turns the corner, making sure he's out of sight. Catching his breath, gripping the railing as he steadies himself.

Okay, focus. It's alright. At least it could be worse.

Right?

Totally normal for the Majestic Shields to be ransacking some random IT guy's apartment on a Saturday morning.

Breathe, he reminds himself. Calm down, and think over your options.

Perhaps you could just go down and ask them, then check his apartment once they're gone? Jonah thinks to himself, clenching that metal handrail as he straightens his back out. The Shields were meant to protect us, after all. If they were searching through Andrew's place, they probably had a good reason to. Right?

It'd be simple. Introduce yourself as his emergency contact from work. Just say you were checking in on a friend, that you had his things from the office. And once they're gone, see if they missed anything. Simple! Easy!

Fuuuck.

They were behind schedule, she said. You could wait them out. Andrew's place might still have something they don't know to look for, something to point to what happened to him. And you have a key to his place. Nothing's stopping you from sitting down, waiting for them to leave, and then going in on your own to check the place and look for clues. There has to be something. Right?

 

Wait them out, go check his place, see what you can find to figure out where he disappeared to. Like you're a detective in some cheap mystery game. How is that going to work out for you, especially if you get caught?

 

"What do you do, Jonah?" He thinks to himself, sitting on that fourth floor stairwell as he weighs his options.