There was a spark.
A ray of hope that made all the killing worth it.
An event for the underworlds most influential, attended by a child of all things.
No more than five. Green eyes and horns. Dark brown hair.
. . .Dark brown hair. . .
Yor's heart leapt with anticipation until those words. Anya looked young for her age, that didn't surprise her. But. . .
Dark brown hair. . .
It was still a lead. She would follow it until it died.
Who else wore horns and had green eyes? It may not be her, but it was the best hope she'd had in four weeks.
She'd tracked down several of the attendees from that event. Going through criminals until she found one with names and wrung them out of her, going from one to the next on that list.
Many had seen the little girl. None of them knew where she came from.
That was fine.
She would kill and torture them all if she had to.
——————-
Yuri grew tired of this woman very quickly.
They interrogated and tortured her, even kept her from sleeping properly, but after a week she still didn't break.
It wasn't uncommon. Spies were trained for this. But they'd be tired. Losing spirit.
'Susan Hopkins' was not one of those people. She was as defiant and unbreakable as ever. If possible, more so than when they started. As if the experience reaffirmed her dedication.
Yuri needed to change his tactics. Something that would work.
Using a loved one was out the window. She didn't have any.
Spies didn't have any. They were notorious in the SSS for having nothing to tie them down. It was why they could work like they did. Moving from place to place. A new identity for every case.
Yuri stood outside the interrogation room, watching the woman through the two-way mirror. She sat alone, a bloodied face, a broken hand.
Interrogating a spy was like trying to move a boulder without the right leverage.
They'd been asking about Anya, but she'd given nothing. Hadn't screamed or cried. Not a sound. The pain seemingly nothing to her.
Yuri was sure she'd been hired.
They raided her apartment, no sign of Anya. Raided everywhere else she was affiliated with, no sign of Anya.
Which meant she was most likely handed off to someone else.
It could have been to the agency she worked with, but it didn't add up.
Spies don't kidnap. Spies gather intel. They sneak into places they're not supposed to be. They use information to further their cause.
Which left the other option: a hired spy.
Not common, but not unheard of.
Most spies worked within an agency, towards their countries futures. While few, worked for themselves, leasing their services to anyone who could afford them.
Her client could've used muscle, the most obvious choice, but they hired a spy.
A spy that handled it quietly, deftly, before anyone was the wiser. Covering her tracks with no way for anyone to find the girl.
'Susan's' client did not want to be found, and made sure they wouldn't be.
She kept her mouth shut. Gave nothing away. Made it impossible to get anything out of her.
Yuri was getting impatient
He needed that leverage.
——————
It depressed Becky that she had gotten used to a routine without Anya.
She didn't wait for the bus anymore, before remembering she wasn't coming. She wasn't surprised when she no longer heard her talking about world peace whenever Desmond showed up. She no longer turned her head, expecting Anya to be sitting next to her.
It scared her that it could stay that way. That Anya would never be found. That'd she never see her best friend again.
A dull ache of resigned acceptance that this was how it was for now. An almost normalcy of Anya's absence taking affect.
That scared her too. The thought she could forget her best friend if Anya was missing for long enough.
She didn't want to think that way. If she gave up hope that she'd be back, it felt like that could really happen. Four weeks had felt like an eternity to Becky, and an eternity was too long as it was.
She hoped she was okay. That she wasn't starving somewhere. Or freezing. Or hurt. Or. . . .
No.
She couldn't go there again.
She stared blankly at her empty notebook, wishing to go home.
——————
Damian didn't know it was possible for Blackbell to become more listless. But now it was more resigned. A slow acceptance to her absence.
He couldn't deny that he started to feel it too.
He didn't miss her. No. That was just ridiculous. But he hoped she was okay.
Damian put his pencil down, closed his books as the bell rang, signalling the end of class for lunch.
It almost disturbed him how unaware Blackbell was of his presence these days. He'd walk past her in the halls, when he climbed to his seat, in the cafeteria.
Not so much as a glance. She didn't notice the other kids either.
Damian figured she was lost in her thoughts. Zoning out to everything else.
He had done that a couple times too, he admitted.
Most everyone in class did, he thought. It was so present in their minds that one of their classmates was missing. But it wasn't as big a deal to the rest of them.
Blackbell was on her own. She hadn't made other close friends. She and Anya were inseparable. They did everything together. He couldn't think of a time when she really hung out with the other kids.
When he walked into the cafeteria, he easily spotted Blackbell sitting on her own again, reaffirming that idea.
Sitting.
By herself.
'Whatever.' He turned away to order his food.
Waited for Emile and Ewen.
Turned to see Blackbell staring off into space, her food untouched. A fork in her hand, forgotten.
'Who cares?!' He looked away.
Ewen and Emile joined him.
Something compelled him to look back again. 'Why won't this feeling go away?! It's so annoying!'
"Gggmrmmrmgmfgm" He grumbled, which were in fact, not words.
"What was that boss?" Emile turned as Damian walked away.
The two boys followed.
"Grmmngemnge." He grumbled, which were in fact, not words.
"What is he saying?" Ewen asked.
"Mmmmmm." Emile shrugged.
Blackbell jumped as Damian placed his tray rather loudly on her table.
"Grmvmgramfermamb." He continued grumbling, which were in fact, not words.
"Desmond?! What are you doing? Why are you being so loud?" Blackbell chided.
"Nothing! Shut up!" Damian dug into his food, refusing to look at her or his friends.
Ewen and Emile gently placed their trays at the table, eyeing Damian.
Blackbell picked up on their confusion and decided to leave it.
She didn't feel like eating alone, anyway.