Den

“A forbidden lab has been discovered on Chelsea street.”

I grimace. **** dens are rare and they’re usually Syndicate.

I walk to my car. The electric motor proximity start has it started and purring before I even get to the door. I slide in and accelerate to the speed limit.

Chelsea street isn’t pretty. It’s mostly just average apartments. A small house that looks like it was built circa 2050, is the address. I pull into the driveway.

As I walk to the doorway I notice the yard is well kept. Someone went to great lengths to keep this place looking ordinary. I slip on nitrile gloves to open the door. It’s unnecessary. The lock is broken and the door is slightly ajar.

I whistle. The outside may be old, but the lab equipment inside is state of the art. There is a renegade laptop sitting on a white desk. I examine it closely. It has no wireless connections of any kind. It’s also smashed beyond repair, with a neodymium magnet sitting on top of the antique hard drive.

I hear sobbing from one of the bedrooms and I make my way there. Sitting on the floor is an attractive woman. She is fit, with long, golden blonde hair. Her makeup is heavy and smudged from crying.

“I can’t hear her…I can’t hear her.”

“You can’t here who?”

“I can’t hear her…”

You aren’t sure she even heard you.