Across the street, in the copse of old trees that were bounded in on four sides by the suburb-like neighborhood, a slice of nature that had been preserved as everything else was cleared away and a pre-fab neighborhood was dropped down, bubblegum pink lenses appeared out of the darkness. I saw the syringe appear in a similar way, the fluid going from dark to pink, bubbling visibly, until it was as neon pink as anything else. He moved it like a baton, waving us over.

I took a course that used the same shadows Withdrawal had. Byron followed after me.

They were gathered in the trees, out of sight of the rest of the neighborhood. Finale wore a blue poncho over her costume. Caryatid wore something similar, but it was black and more voluminous. Her arms were folded in the midst of it, so the bright yellow and orange of the sleeves were hidden.

Withdrawal had gone completely dark. I saw him set his syringe down and lean against a tree. With his elongated limbs, the stilt-like legs, he looked very tall as he peered down at us, his head difficult to see in the branches of a mature tree.

Caryatid was positioned where she could stand with her back to a tree, looking over one shoulder in the direction of a quaint house. It was the prefab sort of home, a little more boxy than what would have passed for usual back on Bet, too similar to other houses on the block, but it was still nice enough.

“I’m sorry we didn’t listen,” Finale said.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

“No,” Caryatid said.

“We did stuff in the wrong order,” Finale said.

“We didn’t. The order didn’t matter,” Withdrawal said.

“But… the names had numbers by them.”

“Can I explain? They’ll tell us if it was wrong,” Withdrawal said. His tone was patient, the rest of him exasperated.

“Yeah, sure,” Finale said, an accent creeping into her voice, a truncated ‘yeah’. She sounded defeated.

“We were tracking target number one. Staff medical. He met with a coworker halfway through the work day. That coworker was also on our list. Staff medical number two. She has shopping bags in her very nice car, and she paid for the lunch.”

“She had some nice clothes,” Caryatid said. Her breaker form was stirring around her legs. Partially but not completely entered into. Slowly, it crept up her legs. She didn’t have to make it slow, I knew. A way of staying warm?

“Yeah,” Withdrawal said. “We switched to following her, because whatever she’s doing, it seemed off.”

“Sounds right,” I said. “Something came up?”

“You know when they have an officer do regular checkups? Making you part of their patrol, because they’re all concerned-like?” Withdrawal asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“There are people doing that for her. We don’t think they’re officers.”

“What do they look like?” Byron asked.