Incident [TEXT]

Oh, well. Looks like he knows who your parents are, then. That's probably what he meant when he said he'd been intending to talk to you for a while. He's playing with you, of course. Jerk.

Number 6 has definitely done his research. In some ways it's not too worrying; more or less everything he's shown knowledge of about you is probably in the city records somewhere. Including the names of your birth parents. If there's anything the authorities like to keep an eye on, it's sparkers. And while those records aren't exactly open to the public, it still probably wouldn't be too difficult to find out what you wanted.

If you knew what you were looking for. (What gave him the idea that you were worth looking up in the first place? What got him interested?)

There is some small comfort in that you got ambushed outside your office, the address of which you had to provide when you registered as a private eye.

And better that they know where you work rather than where you live.

Maybe.

If they don't know already.

They probably either sent someone to help you out, in which case you don't want their help (if you can avoid needing it); or they sent someone to kill you, in which case fuck them. Despite that, you can't convince yourself that you're not curious, so maybe you'll try to spot them at the front once you're outside again.

The possibility that you have an assassin on your trail seems oddly plausible.

Your biological parents made it reasonably clear that they weren't interested in you if you weren't a sparker. It's become abundantly clear that you are not one. Perhaps if you'd done anything of note they might care more, but you've failed on that count too. You've been nothing but a disappointment to them (not that you particularly mind) but it might just be that they'd rather see you dead than risk anyone knowing that such an unremarkable person had anything to do with them. Considering that Number 6 just kidnapped you, passing off your untimely death as the work of a deranged terrorist would be exceptionally easy and unfortunately not at all out of character. But only if the assassin gets to you soon.

That said... Number 6 just hired you. It seems unlikely he would point you towards somebody nursing a bullet with your name on it.

Unless this is some kind of test. Or he just doesn't care. Number 6 said hiring you was the most elegant solution, and therefore not the only one. If you can't evade an assassin, what good are you to him?

And you thought this day couldn't get any worse when you walked in on a murder scene.

Examine the surroundings. You're in a mysterious bank that is supposedly ornate but abandoned, and was apparently the right place for 6 to kidnap you. You're an investigator, and no investigator worth their stuff passes up a chance to investigate their client.

Something spooked 6 or at least made him want to end your meeting. It's best to be careful that the "they" of "they are here" isn't something that would harm you. The elevator should tell you what floor you're on. After that, carefully check out the source of the light - try not to get spotted by something you don't want finding you.

You take a deep breath, concentrating on the darkness and the silence. Nobody else is here. You're safe. For now.

You take a step towards the elevator and peer at the brass plate mounted above the door. First floor. Whatever you do, you need to get down to the ground floor. But before you start wandering off around this possibly assassin-riddled building, you might as well take another look around the big office you've spent the past ten minutes in. It's not every day you get inside the Old Bank.

The papers on the desk initially elicit the most interest. Unfortunately, skimming over them reveals that they all seem to be largely impenetrable reports about banking minutiae. It might be important, but it also might as well be written in code. Squinting at the tiny print, you're not entirely convinced that it's not. It does seem odd that it was just left here, though. Even if a branch of a bank shuts down, you'd think the business would just get moved on to other places. Not dumped.

You turn back towards the oil painting and idly wonder how much it cost its subject. Another thing you would assume somebody might take with them. But you're not so sure about that. This guy was knighted. Might be that he had more portraits of himself than he knew what to do with.

A sweep of the rest of room turns up a few more curious bits of junk: a tearaway calendar left open on a date that passed by half a century ago, a glass flower ornament, a small collection of empty picture frames on the smaller desk at the back of the room, an overflowing wastebasket. You're about to leave when something red catches your eye. You turn back to the latter item.

Among the screwed up bits of paper (illegible notes and more eye-watering reports) a flat envelope pokes out. There's red ink on it and once you carefully ease out the bit of paper said ink resolves itself into a stamp of some kind. Looks like a coat of arms or crest. It's circular, and about two inches in diameter. The stamp itself is a quartered shield, each quarter containing a raven or crow or similar. They all face towards the centre, looking up. Outside the shield two more birds hold up a strip of paper in their talons, which reads 'Virtutis In Numeris'. Apart from the name of the person in the oil painting (hand written, not printed) this stamp is the only thing on the front of the envelope. The back is blank, the inside empty.

You stare at the quartered shield for a few more seconds, waiting for something to leap out at you. When nothing does, you momentarily hesitate and then pocket the envelope. Maybe it means something.

The office yields nothing else. You briefly step into a couple of the other offices in the hallway, but you find little to interest you there either. And so you return to the hallway and to the problem of where to go.

Light probably means people. And considering all that's been said and done, people probably means an assassin. Or several. But perhaps not. Sending multiple killers for one target almost seems to be bordering on a compliment, knowing from your parents.

But Number 6 went towards the dark. In his hire or not, you'd rather not run into him again tonight. You also recall how keen he was to get moving once he heard that 'they' had arrived. Whoever 'they' are, it's possible they're after Number 6 too. Not the best person to run to for protection, then.

And it is possible that Number 6 wasn't referring to people who wanted you dead when he suggested you take the front exit.

Towards the light it is.

Walking as cautiously and quietly as you can, you reach the corner and peer around it. The source of the light is around another corner and, judging by the light it's casting on the opposite wall, looks to be coming from behind an open door. On the left wall is a large window, but you'll have to step out from around the corner to properly look through it. There's another office door in the wall behind you, and yet another on the wall opposite you.

But just as you're about to carry on, you hear low voices. You freeze, your breath held. As they draw closer you can also hear careful footsteps, and suddenly the light on the wall has a silhouette cut out of it. A second figure joins the first in blocking the light, and the footsteps stop. The conversation, at too quiet a level for you to make out the words, continues. They obviously can't see you, any more than you can see them, but if they come this way that happy state of affairs might not last.

What do you do?