Chapter Text
Dan Heng is bare. Even if it’s covered by the cloak he stuffed over his head and even as it blankets his body up from the tip of his hair to the bottom of his ankles, it’s still not enough. Well, not because it’s not an appropriate cloak, but because he’s lacking a more restrictive and protective safeguard. Even if the cloak is lacking in other areas—areas that don’t even apply to his current state of longing—it still holds many memories and experiences. Not enough to supplement the current loss but enough to remind him why he’s feeling loss in the first place.
He bumps shoulders with so many people bustling, Dan Heng feels more so like he’s being pushed backwards rather than forward to whatever destination he’s trying to be at. It was normally like this before the Astral Express; in fact, hiding amongst large crowds was the best way to… keep safe, for lack of better words.
But the heat and discomfort washes over him constantly, more so than usual. Dan Heng finds that he’s more sensitive to touching around his midsection—not surprising, but rather annoying and interesting considering his current state.
Dan Heng’s right shoulder collides with a hard metal frame. He’s sent back with the force and knocks his back against the sharp edge of another’s elbow. The layers of Dan Heng’s hair set apart to make his fringe are swept around in his movement of whipping around. In this motion, Dan Heng’s balance teeters to his left leg, the unpredictable force leading him to piston on the heel of his left foot.
“Woah there! Sorry ‘bout that.” The cloak that blanketed Dan Heng’s form is being pressed against his back by a firm hold, bringing Dan Heng back onto both feet. Before he can even identify the passerby he bumped into, he’s being pulled away.
When Dan Heng’s focus allows him to settle and take in his surroundings, he’s facing the dark depths of an alleyway facing a taller being, also donning a cloak. There’s a split down the middle that leaves the gap making Dan Heng privy to the gunmetal material outline of abs, right before he can meet the person’s face.
Salt and pepper colored hair, strong heavy layered bangs over one side of the face, and targeting reticle outlined a red pupil.
“I… you—h-huh?” Boothill sputters, eyes flitting from Dan Heng’s feet to his face. A poor imitation of a broken clock, or a steam engine. If it weren’t for his tooth clinging to the piece of the crooked cigarette in his mouth, the ashes from the soot along with the cig itself would be scattered across the floor.
“You’re—“ Boothill stops himself in his own words, clasping a metal palm to his forehead, brushing back the life-like synthetic strands that have covered over the free side of his face. “What’re you doin’ here?”
His pupils flit around Dan Heng’s form, looking behind him rather than around. Even going as far as to subtly tilt his head, looking over and above.
Dan Heng, arms folded over and remains fixated on Boothill with a pressed lip that says ‘if you say anything more about this…’
Instead, Dan Heng settles on. “For reconnaissance.”
“No goody Nameless would be seen on this planet.” Boothill hovers over closer.
Dan Heng clears his throat. “I understand you’re not a person that sees out to do harm. Allow me to pass by.”
“And why should I?” Boothill pops his hip to the left, a dramatic swish of his hair as it’s swiped behind him. “You don't have that jade abacus on you anymore. In fact, where is your little crew? Shouldn’t they be swarming ‘round you? They wouldn’t let you be on your own… unless…”
Dan Heng’s lips press harder together, if possible. His eyebrows furrow causing deeper creases into his forehead. If Dan Heng grit his teeth any longer than this, he fears he’ll have to worry about covering the appearance of his faded tail and horns.
“Unless they're not here.” It dawns onto Boothill.
“They’re aware of where I am.” It comes out quickly, too quickly that Dan Heng worries Boothill can tell. Is it the foreign entity (or entities) existing in Dan Heng’s stomach? Or the threat of anyone finding out about it?
“Is that so?” Boothil raises his chin up, peering down at Dan Heng with both an arched brow and arched eye. Though Dan Heng can’t tell if his other eye is squinting to emphasize the inquiring stare, he can feel it instead with the manner of how the tickle of the dying smoke burns off the cigarette end influences his olfactory nerves.
Dan Heng’s nose twitches. Subtle, it would be viewed as endearing, cute, under the eyes of Ren. But to Boothill? They come with more scrutiny and skepticism.
“So you’re sayin’ if I call up our friends right now you won’t have nothing to hide?”
“That would be unnecessary.” Dan Heng’s already blocked everyone, rigged his device to be sure that he can’t be followed by any of the Express for the time being—excluding if they decide to involve Silver Wolf. However, by the time it comes to that, Dan Heng’s phone would be discarded or he would have returned to the Express… he’s hoping for the second option.
Boothill laughs, it’s somehow airy despite it resonating from his chest. The sound still follows the light of his cocky grin, the glint in his pupil, and the manner of which Boothill pops his hip to the other side and positions his shoulder weight to the alternate angle.
“You still didn’t answer my question, but if it’s a satisfactory answer, I might just be so kind as to let you be on your merry way… if I’m feelin’ up to it.”
Dan Heng’s jaw hardens.
He restrains himself from fanning his jaw, by keeping his arms crossed over his chests. The light condensation of sweat accumulating under his jaw and dragging down his black high neck sweater. Dan Heng swallows once. Throat dry and clutching onto any sense of moisture, from the lack of humidity in the air, and maybe this ridiculous conversation is pulling more from him than expected. “I…”
Dan Heng’s vision both brightens at the corner of his eyes and blackens in the center. His left knee buckling to one side; he teeters forth and leftward. Everything darkens before Dan Heng can catch himself.
“Motherfudger—“ sectioned metal fingers curl out to him.
~*~
When Dan Heng comes to, he’s greeted with the blackness, and a low light emitting from the lower corner of his eye.
“You awake, sleeping beauty?”
Boothill sits with his back turned to Dan Heng. The way he talks is muffled almost, as if something is blocking his tongue from making full pronunciations. There’s chewing, a snap coming from something that’s similar to the crunch of scrap metal.
Is Boothill biting a bullet?
“What? You never seen anyone eat scrap metal before?”
“SHHHH is typically the one seen devouring the scrap metal; I wouldn’t believe it to be very appetizing.” Dan Heng sits up, his cloak is neatly folded and set to the side.
“How long have I been out for?” Did he contact the Express yet?
“A couple hours give and take.” Boothill polishes his gun. “You owe me by the way, if I haven’t been there you would’ve been robbed of every little thing.”
“Much obliged.” Dan Heng swings his legs over the cot. “Where are we?” When his eyes adjusts to the low emission of light from the middle of the ‘room’ and the darkness surrounding them, Dan Heng realizes that he’s in a large tent.
“In my safe house.”
“It’s a tent.”
“A tent in the middle of nowhere. Better than nothin’”
“And pretty boy.” Boothill stands up, now stalking towards Dan Heng, with every footstep is long and heavy. Every slow awaiting stride is paired with a subtle metal jingle of the spurs sitting at his heel. All up until Boothill is staring him down, hats off, and long tresses flowing in front of his face. “There’s been a nation-wide hunt for you.”
What.
To emphasize, Boothill takes out his phone, bringing it forth to Dan Heng’s eye level.
Pretty Lady:
Hello Boothill!
Dan Heng is currently MIA. If you cross paths with him on your journey, please inform us.
Himeko.
Short, concise, and sweet. However, it lacks the diplomacy and flowery texts that Himeko would usually draft up for a message of this altitude. It’s only been four days and they're deciding to send out galaxy-wide assistance? Didn’t Dan Heng write a letter already? Was that not enough?
Dan Heng can only sigh, shaking his head and burying his face into one of his palms.
“I see…” It was foolish to believe that a simple letter would deter them from looking for him. If anything, he should have made a video.
“I contacted the pretty red haired lady. Told ‘em you were here and that you knocked out. What the fork is up with that?”
“It was a reconnaissance mission. We got lost from one another.”
Boothill takes his phone away, scrolling down further and presents it to Dan Heng’s face.
Pretty Lady:
We are situated in Planarcadia. If you can manage to hold him there until we arrive, it would be most appreciated.
All this for him? Dan Heng would have a moment of heartfelt joy if it weren’t the utter embarrassment and tinge of annoyance that panged. Was he a child? To have Boothill of all ruffians to hold him there until they arrived?
“The jig is up, lizard. Now spill.”
Lizard?
Dan Heng’s nose scrunches. “Why should I? You intend to give me back to the Express.”
“If you have a good reason as to why I shouldn’t… I could make a switcheroo…”
How could Dan Heng make a convincing argument out of this? What would be the lie that he had to upkeep for the entirety of his time with Boothill to keep him on his side. At least up until the truth could safely be presented to anyone else.
Dan Heng opens his mouth. The truth would be much too heavy to explain all at once, and a lie would have to have the same measurement of convincing. “I…”
However, the struggle doesn’t come from the lack of making up a good lie. Rather, it’s the throbbing migraine that’s awakened in a pulsing sensation on Dan Heng’s temples and the surge of pressure from deep within his throat that makes him hesitant.
If Dan Heng spoke another word he’d feel as if he’d gag on his next coming words. His throat constricts, a foreign feeling in his stomach tickles the spot beneath his rib cage. Adding an unpleasant pressure to the area.
“… are you okay?” Boothill’s face scrunches up when his eyebrows furrow. His lips downturned into a frown.
Dan Heng’s palm cups over his mouth as a soft exhale and gagging noise is made. He hunches over himself, coughing slightly between gagging and dry heaving.
Boothill steps back, both arms hovered above his waist. His eyes widened to reveal those red glared pupils skittering around Dan Heng’s shaking form. He leans one foot pointed right, to evade Dan Heng and move out of his way. Another part of Boothill wants to come over and wrap an arm around his shoulders and pat his back.
When removing his palm from his face there’s a cloudy pool of saliva gathered, but luckily nothing there. Boothill internally sighs in relief at the sight and looks away.
Dan Heng is more relieved than he expected. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon and hasn’t had the appetite or energy to keep anything down. Why would he be so miserable other than the hunger pains?
Perhaps it was the hunger pains making him nauseous.
“Now you have to tell me what the fudge is going on. Darn it!” Boothill covers his forehead with what would’ve been the stretched skin between his pointer and thumb. “Are you ill, is that what? Forkin heaven.”
Dan Heng pauses, still hunched over himself and looking down into the ground. This is it, this is his way out. A white lie that’ll allow him to go free… even if it was a rather cruel lie.
But it’s not far off from the truth.
Dan Heng turns around, hiding his spit covered hand into his body. “Yes.”
A throb from his left temple. Dan Heng winces.
“I was joking! I didn’t think you were motherforking serious!” Boothill exclaims with such a stretch to his voice it makes Dan Heng almost feel bad for lying, almost.
“It makes no sense then. Why the fudge would you run off?” Boothill sighs, shaking his head. Maybe he would have been better off letting Dan Heng go off wherever he was heading to.
That’s the question Dan Heng has yet to answer for himself. There was a multitude of answers and reasons, but none that seemed right enough to justify his actions.
So he answers with something closest to the truth. “I didn’t want to place a burden on them.”
That keeps Boothill silent. He runs his metal hand through the synthetic strands of hair, pushing back the layered chunks that have stuck onto his face.
“Is that enough of an answer for you?” Dan Heng prompts.
Boothill shakes his head “When you say that it makes me sound like an applehole.”
“The knocking out, the coughing, and what else? Fudging Tummy aches?”
Dan Heng turns away. He hit it right on the mark. Following that statement, Dan Heng’s stomach hits him with a considerable ache that has him pausing for a long moment. If… that happened, Dan Heng would have an easier time getting back to the Express.
Dan Heng lifts himself from the cot. “Please have the Astral Express thank you in my regard.” He trudges towards the front of the tent, where it splits into the opening via zipper. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll be on my way.”
“Hey! Where do you think your goin’?” Boothill whips himself around, following Dan Heng’s movements.
“Wether or not my reason was enough for you to keep my wishes of departing from the Astral Express, I will be leaving whether you agree or not.” Dan Heng turns around, singular eye narrowed in on Boothill from a side glance.
Boothill groans, deep and aggravated as if a rake is dragging across the ground. “I can’t just let you go like that.”
A pang on Dan Heng’s temple, on the right side this time. No matter how much he tries to explain himself if he doesn’t leave now, he’ll never get the chance to.
He slips out of the tent and makes larger strides outside. “Hey! Where the heavens are you gon’ go?”
Boothill ‘swears’ to himself, uttering out fragmented curses under his breath as he chases after Dan Heng with an increased pace. “… heavens… what the helly…?”
Boothill manages to reach Dan Heng’s side. “Tell me where you’re heading.”
So you can tell them where I’ll be? Dan Heng’s eyebrow arches high while he tilts his head and stares up at the other man.
“Don’t give me that stare. I’m feelin’ bad about all that stuff I pushed you into earlier. For reals.” Boothill explains. His hand drops to his hip and the other lays freely on the other side. “I’ll accompany you to your next stop.”
Dan Heng frowns. “No need.”
“Hey! Wait.” Boothill whips out his cellular device, tapping away at the screen before presenting it in Dan Heng’s face.
Boothill:
Sorry about that, Pretty Lady. Lizard boy just disappeared. He’s a real slippery one.
“Was the pretty lady necessary?”
Boothill grins, shark teeth shining out through the gap. “She is a pretty lady, is she not?”
Dan Heng tuts. “I don’t see what comes of your benefit in helping on my behalf.”
“Can’t a galaxy ranger want to see some good done every once in awhile?” Boothill palms the gun handle settled on his hip and leans into his left hip. “It feeds into our bottom line. Nothing for your pretty head to think too hard about.”
If Dan Heng could frown further it wasn’t something that could be discovered now, with how tightly wound the wrinkles in his forehead curled it seemed like there wasn’t room for more stress. “I can recall that your bottom line included only two things; never bully the weak and never kill the innocent.”
He adds, for the killing blow. “Which one says that you must accompany me to my next stop?”
Boothill merely lets out a loud hearty laugh. As if the ridiculousness of it all mattered in this context. “You really listened to all that back then? You pretty much internalized it. How forking funny.”
“Look at it like this, kid. I walked over the bottom line of bullying the weak and want to pay it back by helping you get to where you need to be.” This time, Boothill’s smile is nearing genuine and sincere… as sincere as those shark teeth could look. “I’ll lie to that Express of yours and you’ll be on your way.”
Dan Heng closes his eyes and exhales. There’s no other way going around this. Either way Boothill was insistent on accompanying him. “Very well. However, I came to this planet for a reason. Once my task here is finished you may accompany me to my next destination and that one, only.”
“Which is?” Boothill pops his weight into the other hip.
“The Xianzhou.”
“Of course. You wanna return to your hometown before its lights out for you.” Boothill nods, as if he unlocked the basics of otherworldly knowledge.
“Then what’re you hanging ‘round here for?” His cowboy accent thickens up in the middle of the sentence.
Dan Heng clarifies. “There’s an oasis here that’s closely connected to the Forgotten Hall. There is a memokeeper I’d like to speak with.”
Boothill’s eye(s) widen, and like before, something dawns on him. “That memokeeper on Penacony.”
Dan Heng nods. Finally, now they’re getting somewhere.
“She’s an elusive one I’ll give ya that.” Boothill shrugs. “I don’t see why you’d need to spend your time searchin’ for her.”
Dan Heng pinches his nose bridge. A pulsing ache washing over like a wave, the sea foam the remnants of another ache pushing against his temporal lobe. “She has knowledge of something vital.”
Boothill doesn’t press any further.
“... are you goin’ to wash that off?” Boothill nods in gesture towards Dan Heng’s still spit soaken hand. There’s a twist in Boothill’s mouth that gives an inkling to the failed attempt at hiding his disgust.
Dan Heng looks down. An evilier part of his brain has half the mind to go back inside and wipe it on Boothill’s cot, as revenge; or Dan Heng could wash and wipe it off once he found an appropriate bathroom. Instead, he turns over his palm and lets the cloudy spittle drop down across his hand to the dirt.
“Let’s go find something to eat…” Dan Heng utters out. Whether to himself or Boothill—who just happens to be around to listen to his self talk.
“Not without washin’ your hands your not.”
~*~
3 days ago
The moon of Planarcadia has set itself to sleep, little Zzz’s that resonate within the sky appearing every exhale. On the Astral Express everyone would have been tucked to bed, March clutching onto a pink bunny plush—not-so-strangely resembling her—from Fluffy Across the Blue. Stelle sprawled starfish all over her comforter, too tired to pull back the covers and tuck herself in. Sunday, leaning his head over the circular coffee table in his room, takes off his piercings. Himeko, who is enjoying a steeped onyx pearl, pistachio sea salt blend gifted by Pearl in good faith of their alliance. Then Welt, assessing his features in the mirror.
However, the five of them—along with Pom Pom—are all pulled away from their nightly routine by Pom Pom’s cries of “Dan Heng is missing! Dan Heng is gone!” and they find themselves surrounding the large round table in the party car.
March cries out, with both hands clutched close to her chest. “Dan Heng wouldn’t just up and leave us like that! Something must’ve happened without us knowing!”
Stelle nods aggressively, both hands clasped onto her hips with her elbows flared out. “Dan Heng must have been blackmailed.”
A leathered glove presses into the gentle arch of Welt’s black frames, moving his glasses back into place. “Let’s not get too carried away here. We cannot say for certain what happened.”
“It is indeed uncharacteristic of Dan Heng to depart without informing any of us.” Sunday’s right wing flutters, brushing under the wispy chunks of his face framing layers.
Himeko stands in front of the table, all of them are centered around. Her manicured nails curl delicately into her palm while her knuckles slide under her chin while she contemplates. Reflected in the molten ochre of her eyes, surrounding her pupils like an ornamental plate, is Dan Heng’s bracer and two folded envelopes. These were the important things salvaged within Dan Heng’s room, placed right over the blanket on his futon.
One letter is deemed for the ‘Astral Express Family’ and the other… for ‘Ren’
“Should we open it now?” March looks back and forth amongst everyone. She teeters side to side on her shoes and keeps her arms tucked in, going as far as to reach out and fiddle with the strands of her face framing layers.
Stelle looks over to Welt and Himeko for permission, stepping closer over to the table, her hand hovering just above the envelope.
“I believe that we can. Please do us the honors.” Welt nods once meeting Himeko’s eyes for shared agreement.
Sunday nods in tandem when the others look over to him for his input. Once the sentiment is shared Stelle doesn’t waste another second in ripping the envelope open with savagery and desperately unfolds the paper.
On the surface level, Dan Heng’s writing looks as neat and concise as possible. As if he was writing an abstract on the most recent planet they’ve explored. However…
Hello,
It is unfortunate that I cannot see the end of our journey in Planarcadia.
Do not worry for me. I will find the Astral Express and return, you may guarantee my word on that. In my absence, look over the beginning and ending of old and new stories.
I have some other matters that require my concern. Please do not come looking for me.
Continue the trailblaze journey.
With love, Dan Heng.
“But where would Dan Heng go without telling us? If it’s that important or even that little, surely he would let us know. Right?” March 7th looks over to each and everyone.
“… I believe that Dan Heng chose the best decision with the information he had.” Welt affirms. “Whatever he seems to be dealing with has set him off apart from us.”
“Pom Pom,” Himeko looks over to the tiny bunny-like creature pacing along the extended length of the party car. She can practically see the tick marks of anxiety and frustration appearing above his head with every bounce he takes to turn around and pace to the other side.
“Huh? Yes Himeko?” Pom Pom waddles with a ferocity to Himeko’s side, staring up at her with those giant blue eyes.
“Is there a way you can check the logs for any unaccounted jumps? Perhaps the use of fuel for a smaller object.”
“Good thinking.” Welt pitches in. “I can check if any of the pods, or teleportation equipment has been used.”
“I shall reach out to Madame Yao Guang. Perhaps she’ll have an inkling.” Sunday offers.
Himeko nods. “Yes, that would be wise. We have to check if anyone on Planarcadia has seen Dan Heng.”
“I’ll get the Furbo’s on the lookout for him.” Stelle adds, a smile broadening as she looks to March. “We’ll have huge, giant missing posters posted everywhere.”
March 7th giggles, shaking her head and exhaling out. The discontent creases in her expression ironing out. March matches Stelle’s broadened smile. “I don’t see how putting up large posters will help us. If anything, we’ll end up scaring off Dan Heng.”
“If Dan Heng was facing problems of his own, he’s more inclined to remain silent. What I don’t understand however, is why he would leave this…” Himeko extends her own hand from under chin to the bracer, but halts in her own movement, settling on resting her palm on the area in front of the bracer.
For as long as she’s known Dan Heng, he’s never taken off the thing for anything but to bathe himself or polish the armor piece. With the deep degree of care and attention he has with the thing. Himeko would expect it to be the first thing he would bring aside from Cloud Piercer on any kind of journey.
When asked, Dan Heng only mentioned in such an acute and vague manner the two pieces belonged to his past. Despite his own overwhelming experience regarding his history, Dan Heng still held onto the two. As if unwilling to let go or push away the turbulent former memories any more than no longer speaking or living that former life.
“Perhaps…” Sunday speaks up, stepping closer to the table and looking over the two remaining objects with a particular scrutiny. “Would the Stellaron Hunter have something to do with his disappearance…?” Sunday gestures to the remaining letter on the table.
Both March 7th and Stelle's eyes widened at the mention. The both of them whipping their heads to look at each other. As if playing a game of who can get the most brain damage the fastest.
“You mean that weird one, Blade?” March’s voice arches into a particular tone at the question, looking over to Sunday for further clarification.
Sunday nods. “Yes, over our time in Planarcadia Dan Heng has had increased exposure to him.”
“Sunday,” Welt clears his throat. “Would you happen to know or pick up on anything strange in Dan Heng’s behavior as of recent?”
Sunday pauses, pressing a curled finger to the plump bottom of his lip. Humming low before speaking, “Aside from the higher than usual contact with the Stellaron Hunter, and increased signs of sickness symptoms, nothing else of the sort seemed to be out of the norm.”
Himeko inquires this time, “Sickness?”
Sunday nods. “Yes.” Pressing a flat hand to his heart. “Very often he would have difficulty holding his food in and often looked very pale over the course of these two weeks.”
Silence amongst everyone.
“… did I say something?” Sunday tilts his head, looking cautiously amongst the Astral Express. Setting his eyes on Welt who looked more bewildered.
Sunday opens his mouth to utter an apology but Welt intervenes. “No need to apologize, Sunday. That was very useful information.”
“So he’s sick…?” March 7th practically whines out. She presses the palm of her hand to her head and looks up, as if an Aeon would come down and present her with the solution themselves.
Stelle crosses her arms over her chests and stares down the girl next to her. “How insightful. He’s sick so now what?”
“Gah! Do you even know what inciteful means?” March protests, stomping her foot at the end.
“You’re saying it with a c so you’re immediately wrong!” Stelle sticks out her tongue for emphasis before whipping around and showing her back.
“Wha?!—“ March 7th steps back, her short hair whipping wildly in its unkept stupor in the movement, “Y-you can’t even tell! C and S sound the same!”
Both Himeko and Welt shake their heads, letting out soft groans, and pressing palms to their forehead in some makeshift disbelief.
“If only Dan Heng were here…” she mentions fondly, carding a part of her long red tresses through her fingers.
“… he would be able to sort them out, surely.” Welt adds, unable to withhold the upcoming smile twitching at his wrinkles,
Sunday cannot help but smile fondly following the course of the younger two’s banter. He looks towards Welt and Himeko.
“… perhaps after exhausting our other options, we call upon Miss Black Swan.” Sunday suggests.
Himeko brightens up at this. “What a wonderful idea. Perhaps we can reach out to her first before pursuing anything else. It will take some time for her to reach back to us.”
Stelle yawns, and raises her left hand, using the other one to cover her mouth. “I can ask her.”
Welt shakes his head. “That’s something me and Himeko can do. In the meantime, get some sleep.” Welt looks over the three of them. Standing side by side, looking up to him with the same gumption of baby birds to their mother.
“Ahh, how will I be able to sleep now?” March 7th sighs. “Knowing Dan Heng is gone from right next door just doesn’t feel the same.”
Himeko places a hand on March’s shoulder, rubbing back and forth accompanied with her signature smile. “You’ll have us, March. Even if we aren’t complete without Dan Heng, it doesn’t mean we aren’t here for you.”
March 7th returns her smile easily, going in for a hug around Himeko’s waist. “That’s so sweet! Thank you Himeko.”
Once the three younger members leave, Himeko and Welt share a look over the bracer, laced and tied neatly into a bow over the article. Additionally, the neat cursive of ‘Ren’ in the center of the envelope.
“… we cannot exclude the theory Sunday presented earlier.” Welt begins, pushing his glasses into place once again.
“If he left his bracer then we can most certainly expect the reason why he’s gone is because of…” she trails off, eyes reading the name of the addressed wrapper.
Welt chuckles. “You never saw that kid go a day without it… especially when we found him.”
“Yes. He looked as if he fell out of the sky.” Himeko looks up at the ceiling, both of her arms folded under her busts. “Blade is a very strong candidate for Dan Heng’s disappearance. However—“
Welt intercepts with “—that still doesn’t explain the sickness.”
“Perhaps—“
“Mr. Yang! Himeko!” Stelle huffs and inhales deeply multiple times, holding her phone over her knee as she keels over and anchoring her entire weight onto the lower ligaments.
“What’s wrong?” The two of them rush to her.
The only action Stelle takes is extending out her arm to whip her screen in front of Himeko and Welt’s face. It nearly takes the both of them out but luckily due to experience and fast reflexes they are able to avoid her near assault.
On the messaging app on her phone are three top icons… Kafka, Firefly, and Silver Wolf… all the Stellaron Hunters.
All except the one that really matters.