The transport back to the mansion was unnervingly quiet, the hum of the electric engine the only sound until Chase noticed Blood Eye go completely still. The assassin's mechanical eye whirred rapidly, the crimson light intensifying until it cast a sharp, rhythmic glare against the window.
"She's here," Blood Eye rasped, his voice vibrating with a strange mix of dread and recognition. "I can feel the resonance. The vessel is in the city."
Before Chase could ask for a location, his work phone buzzed. It wasn't Vora or Lilith. It was a notification from his personal contact at V.R Electronics, where he'd been sourcing specialized components for the mansion's defense grid.
They detoured to a sleek, minimalist storefront in the Upper East Side. Stepping inside, the chaotic energy of the hunt was replaced by the low hum of high-end servers and the clean scent of ozone.
Behind the counter sat a young man with messy, slate-gray hair and a gentle, tired smile. A prominent scar ran across the bridge of his nose, but it didn't detract from his kind and approachable demeanor.
"Mr. Vance," the young man said softly, bowing his head slightly. "I have the localized transmitters you requested. I took the liberty of recalibrating the frequency—the standard settings seemed a bit... insufficient for your home's unique layout."
"Thanks, Sid," Chase replied, appreciating the man's calm efficiency. "You always seem to know exactly what I need before I do."
Sid chuckled softly. "At V.R Electronics, we pride ourselves on foresight. Though, I must say, your friend looks like he's seen a ghost." He nodded toward Blood Eye, who was staring fixedly toward the back of the store, his mechanical eye twitching at a frantic pitch.
"Sid, is the diagnostic on the core processor finished yet?" a cheerful, melodic voice rang out from the workshop.
A woman with long, ivory hair and gold-rimmed glasses stepped out, wiping her hands on a grease-stained rag. This was Ayaka, the technical department's lead. Despite the heavy workload, she radiated a calm, flirtatious energy.
She paused, her gaze landing directly on Blood Eye. A playful, mischievous smirk touched her lips. "Well, look at what the cat dragged in. Or should I say... what the soul-stitcher put back together?"
Blood Eye's mechanical eye whirred so loudly it sounded like a dying turbine. "You..."
"Me," Ayaka chirped, leaning against the counter next to Sid. She looked at Chase and gave a small, flirtatious wave. "I'm Ayaka. I handle the hardware. Sid handles the heart. And it seems your friend here handles the memories."
Chase looked between the legendary assassin and the cheerful technician. This was the sentient vessel—the "Scout" that had once been part of Blood Eye's own soul, now working a 9-to-5 job.
"We need to talk," Blood Eye said, his voice rising with a desperate intensity.
"Sure, I've got time," Ayaka said effortlessly. She tossed the grease rag onto the counter. "Let's step outside. The servers are too sensitive for whatever brooding energy you're bringing in here."
With that, they both walked out, leaving Chase standing with Sid.
"I wonder if that's the old guy she's been talking about," Sid muttered aloud, watching them through the glass.
"What do you mean?" Chase asked.
"She mentioned having an old boss who kept ordering her around," Sid explained, leaning back. "Apparently, it pissed her off to no end, but she admits she learned all her skills from him. Honestly, Mr. Vance, you should probably head out and keep an eye on things. I heard she once threw a guy through a window just for messing with her workspace. I'd hate for your friend to end up on the sidewalk."
"I'll do that. Take care, Sid," Chase said.
"You too," Sid waved.
Walking out, Chase found himself reeling from the realization. He had expected Blood Eye's vessel to be a grim reflection of the assassin—someone with dead eyes, wearing a worn-out trench coat and a permanent scowl. Instead, he saw a woman of eye-catching beauty.
Ayaka stood on the sidewalk, looking like she had stepped off a fashion runway rather than out of a workshop. She wore an oversized, beige trench coat loosely over her shoulders, providing a bright contrast to her dark, form-fitting navy ribbed knit dress. A dusty-pink leather belt cinched her waist, defining a silhouette that was as striking as it was unexpected—thick-waisted, with curves that commanded attention, she had a big busst and was far from the wiry, utilitarian scout he had imagined.
She was vibrant and full of life, a complete contradiction to the man who had once owned her soul. Chase shook his head. Red Eye's "Scout" wasn't a shadow anymore; she was a storm.