It’s seven o’clock in the evening. Inside the newly opened Vance Night Agency, brothers Axel and Andrew are cleaning their respective areas, without wearing their usual signature outfits. Axel uses a vacuum cleaner to pick up dirt from the floor, while Andrew uses a cleaning spray and a cloth to make the windows shine. The three sofas and the glass table have been moved aside to make things easier.
LENA Vance’s avatar is projected onto the surface of the table’s lens, monitoring the progress of the cleaning.
“Remind me why we’re doing this early,” Axel says while vacuuming a corner of the agency. “We do this once a month.”
“Because one of the health inspectors complained about how dirty the place was,” LENA replies. “He said he smelled something strange during his visit.”
“Of course he smelled something strange.” Andrew pauses to stretch his arms. “He was an anthropomorphic bloodhound.”
“How’s it going, Lewis?” LENA asks.
The agency’s garage is wide and tall enough to store the Vance van while still leaving plenty of room to move around. Surrounding the parked vehicle are plastic shelves filled with tools and leftover microparts—processors, fans, and chips—organized into boxes by category. The glider motorcycle of black color and with red flames is also parked upright off to one side.
After organizing the shelves, Lewis Vance, who isn’t wearing his hat, focuses on cleaning the floor and walls. Now he’s using a hose to wash dirt and dust toward the street and into the sewer.
“I’m almost done cleaning in here,” Lewis says into the speaker mounted high in one corner of the room. “All that’ll be left is cleaning the vehicles.”
“Maybe you should’ve washed the vehicles first…”
“One extra step won’t hurt.” The eldest of the Vance brothers shrugs before sneezing.
A bell-like chime rings out, heard by all four members of the agency, and LENA projects the feed from the front security camera beside her. In the image stands a draconid with a humanoid build. Blue-scaled skin, a long snout, two wings, backward-curving horns, and a tail that reaches the ground. He’s dressed in a simple khaki jacket and pants. Hanging from his neck like a necklace is a professional digital camera, which he’s holding in his hands.
“What do you want, Quill?” Andrew asks after opening the door. “We’re busy. We don’t have time for interviews.”
“I’m here to give you a job.” The draconid raises his camera and snaps a photo of the agency, the flash blindingly bright. No one seems to mind.
“What kind of job?”
“It’s not from me. It’s from a friend who’s very distrustful and thinks your agency is a joke. He believed you might kidnap him, so he sent me instead—to get kidnapped in his place.”
“He is distrustful—and that sounds like trouble. Will he give us more details?”
“Sure, but my friend doesn’t want to talk on the phone either.” Quill takes a few steps back to photograph the agency’s fa?ade, another dazzling flash going off. “He thinks it could be a trap to record his voice and use it against him.”
“Now he just sounds crazy. He’d better pay well.”
“I’ll take you to the scene.” The young draconid spreads his wings and flaps them, lifting himself a few centimeters off the ground. “It’ll be big news for The Daily Flare to see how you solve this. Do you accept the job?”
“Money is money. LENA, tell Lewis to pull out the van.”
“On it.” Quill rises more than three meters into the air to take yet another photo of the agency.
“You’re coming with us in the van. Last time you flew outside the limits, we got fined because of you.”
It’s eight o’clock in Neo-Aureborn. The Vance Night Agency’s main vehicle drives through the quiet streets of the northern district, an area known for its wide green spaces meant for citizens’ enjoyment, where buildings such as recreational centers and sports courts of all kinds can be found free of charge, except for the responsibility of keeping the area clean. Tall buildings are scarce, and grassy open areas dominate the landscape, with natural stone paths branching off from the roads.
“The client is a draconid like me,” Quill says from the back seat. “His name is Kael, and he’s been attacked several times over the past week. That kept him paranoid until he got fed up and decided to propose negotiations with his attackers.”
“I’d be scared too,” Axel comments from the other back seat. “It’s disturbing to always be on alert because someone wants to hurt you.”
“Why didn’t he hire a more professional security service?” Lewis asks as he drives the van along the road that cuts through a large natural area.
“Because Kael doesn’t have much money. At least, not yet.”
“Explain that, because I’m understanding less and less.” Andrew looks out the window.
“Kael is a rising sports prospect.” Quill snaps a photo through the window. “Not to brag, but draconids are naturally the race with the best physical qualities compared to others. And Kael is an talented draconid. Several professional teams have asked about him, and affiliated brands already want to use him as the face of their products.”
“That doesn’t sound bad,” Lewis says. “But it also attracts trouble, right?”
“Yes. He’s made enemies who envy his talent, and teams that see him as a threat to their interests. He’s confirmed that himself and has gone to the police, but very specific evidence is required to open an investigation like that. No matter how many injuries Kael shows them, they don’t believe him.”
“Not everyone is as good a cop as Captain Nightshade,” Axel remarks.
“And that’s why he offered to talk,” Andrew adds. “To lure his enemies out and gather evidence. And that’s why you’re here too.”
“Unexpectedly, those guys agreed.” Quill takes another photo of the natural scenery. “They also claim they’re willing to resolve things with peace. Or at least, that’s what they say. These days, draconids wish we still had the powers of our ancestors—breathing fire, summoning storms, or flying at incredible speeds.”
“So why are we here?” Axel asks.
“It’s supposedly the safest place to negotiate,” Quill replies. “Anyone arriving by air or by land would be spotted.”
“But there’d also be no escape if it turns out to be a trap,” LENA says.
“We accounted for that too. That’s why I made a call to the police behind Kael’s back.”
The van comes to a stop in a parking lot, the last stretch of asphalt. The Vance brothers, already armed and wearing their headsets, get out and head toward a massive, dome-shaped stadium. The building, one hundred meters tall with a closed roof and gray exterior, is lit by a few floodlights. A stone path leads to the entrance, flanked by rocks and signs warning about fines for littering. The middle Vance brother spots a camera mounted on a pole and gives it a wave.
“So this is Summit Arena, where the Silver Skylanders play.” Lewis lifts his head to take in the structure.
“Hello?” Quill says into his phone, calling his friend. “We’re already here. Stay where you are.” He ends the call. “Kael sounds nervous. Try not to upset him any further.”
“Your hearing and sense of smell aren’t as advanced as those of anthropomorphs,” Andrew says, “but they’re still better than ours. Have you detected anyone nearby?”
“My ancestors could also hear danger from kilometers away.” Quill’s tone turns nostalgic. “No. There’s no one dangerous near us.”
The humans and the draconid walk until they reach one of the stadium entrances. The massive metal doors are closed, and the guard booth is empty. The four of them hear footsteps and, moments later, feel a rush of air from something lifting off.
They all look up to see a red-scaled draconid, dressed in casual clothes, beating his wings more than sixty meters above the ground. Fear is written all over his face, and his hands glow with the blue light of digital magic.
“Who are you?!” the young draconid shouts, aiming his palms as if ready to fire energy beams.
“They’re the people you’re hiring, Kael. Don’t make a scene.” Quill cups his hands around his snout to project his voice. “Come down and say hello.” He snaps a photo of his colleague with his camera.
Reassured by the presence of a friend of his own kind, the frightened draconid descends and folds his wings. He examines the boy with the hat, the boy in the blazer, and the boy in the trench coat.
“Are you the Vance Agency?” he asks, keeping his hands raised.
“Vance Night Agency,” Andrew says, extending his hand. “We’re here to serve as your bodyguards.”
“I-I need to see your… legal documents,” Kael replies, hesitantly returning the gesture.
Lewis hands him his phone so he can review the agency’s valid certificates, endorsed by the Neo-Aureborn mayor’s office. The young draconid checks key details, such as the license renewal date and the required official seal.
“Sorry about my paranoia. But after being attacked three times in the last week, I don’t trust almost anyone.”
“Any idea who might be behind it?” the eldest of the Vance brothers asks.
“Members of a rival team. I’ve played against them a few times. They’re not hard to identify.”
“And they want to sabotage your team by attacking you,” Andrew says. “Pathetic. Where are they?”
“They’re already inside,” Kael replies. “They asked for permission to use the stadium. It wasn’t hard for their coach to get it.”
“I’ll go in with you,” Quill says. “You three enter through the spectator gate and hide in the stands. I’ll pretend to be a bodyguard. If they’re paranoid and see the camera, they’ll attack me without thinking.”
“That sounds risky,” Lewis warns.
“It is. That’s why we’re counting on your quick response if we’re attacked. The police won’t arrive in time, so you’d better be ready. Our lives are in your hands.”
A chill runs down Kael’s spine.
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“No pressure, right?”
The humans and the draconids enter the stadium through one of the already open staff entrances and split up. The corridors are dark, forcing them to use their phone flashlights to avoid tripping. The draconids keep moving forward until they reach a hallway that leads to a brighter, more open area. White lights flood a massive synthetic grass field measuring over one hundred meters long and fifty wide. Curiously, there are no boundary lines, making it impossible to tell which sport it’s meant for. Surrounding it are thousands upon thousands of seats arranged in tiers, ranging from the cheapest sections to VIP boxes with privileged views.
“What a great invention color-changing synthetic turf is,” LENA says through the headsets. “They save millions on paint and chalk.”
The three Vance brothers split up again to hide among the seating sections. After an analysis by LENA to determine the most optimal positions, Axel and Andrew take cover in the front rows on opposite sides of the field, sword and pistols in hand, respectively. Lewis takes a higher position beside a set of mid-level stairs, his long-range rifle ready.
They—and the two draconids—spot two tall figures standing at the center of the field. They belong to the same race as the latter, though they are older. Nearly two and a half meters tall, with green-and-black scales, wings, horns, and tails, they’re dressed in hoodies and tracksuit pants, along with custom-made shoes.
“Hello, Kael Skales,” greets the green-scaled draconid with a raspy voice and a smile. “I can’t believe the Skylanders’ young rising star showed up.”
“You’re Garreth,” Kael says. “Star player and captain of the Obsidian Goliaths. And you must be Conrad, the vice-captain.”
“Thanks for recognizing us, you arrogant brat,” the black-scaled draconid says in a hostile tone. “You think you’re all that just because—”
Garreth cuts him off, holding an arm out in front of him. Quill, fascinated, takes a photograph.
“Did you bring a photographer to capture the beating we’re about to give you? Why don’t you do us a favor and hand over the camera?” Conrad asks threateningly.
“This is my first time witnessing the underbelly of sports. Fascinating,” Quill says as another flash goes off.
Conrad is about to lunge at him when Garreth stops him again.
“Don’t cause trouble. Skales, we don’t enjoy keeping tabs on you just to injure you every time we visit this city. That’s why our boss asks that you don’t participate in tomorrow’s match. Just that, and we’ll leave you alone until the next time your team plays against ours.”
“They’re insane.” Quill smiles. “And this will make an excellent headline for The Daily Flare. Terrible athletes who need to attack other players in order to win.”
“A threat like that always comes to light sooner or later.” Kael shakes his head. “I’m not doing it.”
“You made a serious mistake bringing someone with a camera,” Garreth sighs in disappointment. “If you’d come alone, we would’ve only beaten you. Now we have to break a civilian’s bones. At least you’re a draconid too—you’ll regenerate.”
“Sounds like a good time to call the police.” Quill pulls out his phone.
“Go ahead. We’ll say you attacked first and tried to injure us. The police won’t know who’s telling the truth and will open an investigation against everyone involved. That’ll stain your reputation forever.”
“You are desperate. Lucky for me, I’ve photographed everything.”
“Garreth,” the black-scaled draconid mutters, “there’s someone else in here. I can smell them.”
“I smelled them too.” The green-scaled draconid raises his hand, which begins to glow with digital magic. “Deal with them—but don’t hurt them too badly. We’ll use them to argue they were trying to attack us.”
Garreth beats his wings and propels himself toward the stands where Axel Vance is hiding. The boy in the blazer has no more reason to stay concealed; he steps into the open with his weapon in hand. The draconid lunges at him, throwing a punch, but Axel ignites his sword with a blue glow and uses it as a shield to absorb the impact.
“I’m getting used to taking punches all the time,” the boy mutters.
“Humans…” Garreth growls.
From an upper stand, Lewis Vance emerges and fires a red laser beam from his rifle. Acting on reflex, the draconid raises the palm of his hand to shield himself.
“Draconid skin is the thickest among all sentient species,” LENA comments over the headsets. “Combined with their hardened scales, that makes them difficult targets to neutralize.”
“Thanks for the motivational speech!” Andrew shouts as he bursts from hiding and unloads his twin pistols at the attacker targeting the other draconid.
Conrad beats his wings and rises almost to the ceiling to evade the gunfire. He spots Lewis and dives toward him. The eldest Vance brother runs up the stairs toward the highest rows, ducks under one of Conrad’s swings, and keeps moving without slowing down. The draconid gives chase, but the limited space between the ceiling and the top row prevents him from flying, forcing him to land and continue on foot.
“Smart use of space, human.” Conrad’s hands glow with digital magic, and with his palms open, he fires bursts of energy forward.
Lewis projects a solid energy shield from his bracelet. The impacts rattle him, but he manages to hold his ground. When he sees the draconid charging at him, he has no choice but to start running again.
In the lower stands, Axel jumps down onto the field and unleashes a series of slashes at Garreth. The draconid infuses his hands with digital magic, blocking the blows with the backs. Hearing the other two draconids closing in to restrain him, Garreth reinforces his wings with magic and spreads them into a surrounding shield.
“Attacking from behind won’t do you any good.” Quill runs to flank his opponent, positioning himself beside Axel.
“Let’s hit him together.” The boy in the blazer swings in a vertical strike.
“I’m not good at fighting—I’m just a journalist!” Quill channels digital magic into his hands.
Garreth catches Axel’s blade with both hands. Quill tries to land a punch from the side, but the draconid shoves Axel away. Garreth’s magic flows from his hands into his claws, which extend ten centimeters like digital blades. With a single sweep of his wing, he blocks Quill’s weak strike.
Axel isn’t intimidated. He knows his opponent is physically superior—but also slower than he is.
In the upper stands, Lewis keeps running, defending himself with his bracelet. He’s barely used his rifle; his opponent hasn’t given him a moment to breathe. Conrad extends his palms to unleash bursts of digital magic, but stops when a rain of red laser beams strikes him from behind. He shields himself with his wings, though the effect of the electromagnetic pulses is minimal.
“And I thought we’d settle this with a game or something,” Andrew says, aiming his pistols again. “It was the perfect opportunity.”
“You never would have stood a chance against two adult draconids in a fair match,” LENA says over the headsets.
“There you go again with the encouragement.” The youngest Vance brother runs forward to fire from closer range. “How about helping us stop them before they break our bones? I don’t want a forced vacation.”
“As I said, you can’t beat them cleanly. With their senses, it’s impossible to catch them off guard.”
“Their senses are very sharp—they can tell what we’re going to do before we do it. Huh?” Lewis realizes what his AI sister is implying.
“Are you going to stop running, human? If you’d stayed out of this, we wouldn’t have to deal with you.” Conrad advances toward the boy in the hat, unconcerned about Andrew, since his laser shots are harmless against the armor of his wings.
“It’s a matter of contracts.” Lewis squares up with his rifle raised. “That makes it our problem too.”
Conrad lunges to strike. To his surprise, Lewis charges forward as well, using the rifle as a shield. The draconid throws a punch meant to shatter the weapon, but just before impact, Lewis drops the rifle and infuses his knuckles with digital magic in a fraction of a second. He blocks the blow, and though he’s knocked back a few centimeters, he withstands the strike.
Conrad clenches his fist again when suddenly his vision blurs and a violent jolt rocks his skull. Behind him, Andrew has just landed a magic-charged punch to his right ear. Though the thick skin absorbed much of the impact, the internal damage prevents him from focusing.
Lewis grabs his rifle and slams the butt into the draconid’s chest, knocking him flat on his back. Conrad plants his hands and tries to get up. Lewis aims the barrel of his rifle at his face. From behind, Andrew points his pistols at Conrad’s back.
“Sharper senses mean greater vulnerability,” the younger brother declares.
Garreth beats his wings, forcing both Axel and Quill back at the same time. They look exhausted, their bodies marked with cuts. Although they’ve managed to injure their opponent, he doesn’t seem nearly as affected as they’d hoped.
“If we’re going to do what you said, we have to do it fast.” Axel raises his sword again to block another blast of magic.
“You’re going to take most of the damage.” Quill takes a deep breath to recover.
“That’s my specialty—being the team’s shield and taking the hits. Let’s do this.” Axel charges the draconid, going for a direct thrust.
Garreth coats his claws in digital magic and slashes, knocking the boy aside. Quill takes advantage of the opening and attacks with his own magic-imbued claws. Garreth protects himself by wrapping his reinforced wings around his body, and that’s when Axel closes the distance and strikes with the hilt of his sword. The draconid throws a punch to disarm him; he succeeds, but lets out a grunt of pain as his blow collides with the human’s knuckles, now glowing blue.
“You did it at the last second to increase the force of the hit. Not bad.” Garreth slashes again.
“And you should stop holding back.” Axel coats his glove with digital magic and throws a punch of his own, colliding with the draconid’s attack, matching his strength and drawing a growl of pain.
“Those gloves…”
“They’re not ordinary. They run on digital magic—and they can do this.” Axel throws another punch.
Garreth responds with the same kind of attack, but at the moment of impact his arm is shoved backward, as if struck by a mini explosion.
“A shockwave?”
“Something like that. My gloves release a large amount of energy when they come into contact with a solid object. They need a certain amount of speed to work, and they only activate with digital magic.”
“Your bones won’t be able to take it.” Garreth glances at Quill, who hasn’t moved from his position.
Axel strikes again, and his opponent answers with a fury-filled punch meant to overpower the shockwave. Quill starts running along the side while Axel, in a sudden move, stops his punch short. It’s a feint. Carried forward by momentum, the draconid overextends, leaving his flank open for Quill to land a solid right hook to the chin. Garreth’s snout snaps up toward the ceiling lights before he collapses into a seated sprawl on the turf.
Axel levels his sword at the draconid’s face to prevent any reaction.
“Only a draconid can knock out another with pure physical strength. But almost no one can take a solid punch to the chin. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to go down with the first hit.”
“Are you mocking me? Now that you’ve hurt us, we’ll tell the police that—”
A blinding flash from Quill’s camera cuts the adult draconid off.
“Enough,” the younger draconid says. “You sound like a little kid throwing a tantrum. You didn’t even notice that Kael slipped away to alert the police.”
“We have everything recorded.” Axel taps the earpiece in his right ear. “Including the fact that you tried to deceive the police. Captain Nightshade is going to love hearing about that.”
“Don’t worry about the repercussions for your team,” Lewis says to the black-scaled draconid from the upper stands. “If you confess your crimes, the responsibility will fall solely on the two of you.”
It’s nine o’clock at night. A group of metropolitan police officers gathers in the parking lot of Summit Arena. After Quill’s call, they didn’t take long to arrive and arrest the two adult draconids, charging them with attempted assault. Garreth and Conrad, captain and vice-captain of the Obsidian Goliaths, are escorted into two patrol vans. Given their size and strength, the police have had to rely on specialized equipment to restrain them. Of the five people affected by the incident, Kael Skales—the least injured—is giving his statement.
An adult anthropomorphic wolf, with silver and dark gray fur, watches the three boys leaning against the Vance Agency’s van with a neutral expression. The officer wears the dark blue jacket of the police force and meets the brothers’ impatient stares.
“Don’t keep us waiting,” Andrew says. “Go ahead and give us the lecture, Captain Nightshade.”
“You’re lucky this wasn’t a case under active police jurisdiction,” the wolf says with calml. “If you’d interfered in an official operation, I’d have had to arrest you. And I’m grateful you didn’t cause any property damage to the stadium.” He lets out a relieved breath.
“Our recklessness helped catch two criminals—and maybe gamblers,” Axel says with a grin.
“I reviewed the footage you sent me. It clearly shows those draconids attacked first—both you and the two civilians. For today, you’re excused from giving statements. I shouldn’t say this, but… good job, I suppose.”
“Thank you, Captain,” the three brothers say in unison, offering a brief military salute.
“Captain Nightshade,” one of the officers calls, requesting his superior’s attention.
“Don’t get into trouble on your way home,” the wolf says before walking off.
The Vance brothers watch him leave, and a second later, someone lands beside them on top of the van.
“Careful, or you’ll scratch the paint with your scales, Quill,” LENA’s voice warns from inside the vehicle.
“I know. That’s why draconids always wear clothes that cover us.”
“And your camera?” Axel asks, noticing the device is no longer hanging from his friend’s neck.
“It was confiscated because I used it to document the scene. I’ll get it back after I give my statement and they rule out any suspicious photos. Luckily, I didn’t capture anything illegal… I think.” Quill pulls out his phone to check the time.
“I’m surprised it didn’t break,” Lewis remarks.
“My gear is tougher than it looks,” the young draconid says with proud. “Always top quality.”
“All right, we’re heading out,” Andrew says as he climbs into the back of the van. “Tell Kael to transfer the payment to the agency’s account. And if he ever needs cheap bodyguards again, he knows how to reach us. Oh—and tell him we’ll be cheering for him in tomorrow’s game.”
Lewis and Axel nod and take the front seats. The eldest brother starts the engine. Quill waves goodbye and, with his phone, snaps one last photo of the Vance brothers’ vehicle—his endless source of interesting news. He wonders what title he’ll give his next article, one that will talk about yet another case solved by a very strange family.
