The Legion: Heartson

Thomas barely hid a scowl as he approached Hunter Tower, a looming fortress that seemed to drink in the London night rather than reflect it. The lights from other buildings were muted against its dark facade.

???: Ah, Mr. Hunter! Back so soon?

A staff member at the front entrance greeted him with a too-wide smile, his eyes gleaming with a forced enthusiasm.

Thomas raised an eyebrow and returned a slight smirk. 

Thomas: Missed me, did you?

He continued his way through the lobby, meeting more smiles and nods, and, for each, he had a quip ready. But his mind was elsewhere, on the envelope in his pocket, on the burning questions that wouldn't let him rest. This was no time for banter.

Finally, he and Olivia made their way to the elevator, only to find it already occupied. Zachary, the man in the wheelchair, raised an eyebrow when he saw them.

Zachary: Thomas. Olivia. So, how did your little… outing go?

Thomas gave him a lopsided grin, trying to keep the mood light. 

Thomas: Olivia only had to fire one bullet this time. That's progress, isn't it?

Zachary's frown deepened. 

Zachary: You take these situations too lightly, Thomas. You think just because you get through them unscathed, you're invincible.

Thomas shrugged, unfazed. 

Thomas: Well, I'll be heading to my room. I have some information to go through. 

Zachary, however, wasn't done. 

Zachary: Before that, there's a letter from your father. He's expecting you. I can take you up myself, or you can go and see him directly.

Thomas scoffed, making no attempt to hide his disdain.

Thomas: As tempting as that is, I'll pass. Whatever the old man has to say, I doubt it's anything I'd care to hear.

Zachary watched him for a moment before sighing, letting the matter drop. Thomas pressed the button, and the elevator doors slid shut, whisking him and Olivia up through the dozen floors separating him from his study.

Once they reached his floor, Thomas stepped into the hallway, his steps growing quieter as he neared his private study. The room felt like his only real sanctuary, a place where he could think, a place where everything made sense—at least in comparison to the chaos that had taken over his life.

Inside, he took a quick, appreciative glance at the meticulously organized shelves, each one lined with books, files, and supplies. No chaos here. This was his space, his order.

He sat down at his desk and, almost reverently, unfolded the envelope. As he read, his eyes widened, absorbing the details for his newest investigation.

Game start.

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Thomas's investigation began with the painstaking task of combing through police reports, autopsy findings, and witness statements. Each victim bore peculiar, localized burn marks—a detail both intriguing and baffling.

Burn marks… but no cause. How?

Forensics had no answers. No logical explanation. But Thomas knew better than to rely solely on logic. He wasn't the brightest, no—but he was relentless. 

Weeks of investigation turned up little in the way of leads. The breakthrough came unexpectedly one late, coffee-fueled night at his cluttered desk. Sifting through the witness statements again, Thomas noticed a pattern he had previously overlooked. Somehow, most victims had been reported wearing some sort of distinctive golden watch with various patterns.

He dug deeper into the history of the watch, tracing its origins and previous owners, but each trail ended as it began. Frustrated but undeterred, Thomas expanded his search, reaching out to contacts within the antiques and collectibles world, but still nothing.

As weeks turned into months, Thomas's obsession with the case grew. He attended estate sales, auctions, and collectors' shows, hoping to find anything related to the watch or its mysterious effects. His father's estate became a maze of boxes filled with notes, photographs, and artifacts.

The investigation's slow pace was a source of frustration for Thomas, accustomed to more straightforward cases. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the brink of uncovering something monumental. 

Were the people with the golden watches being targeted? 

Were the watches some kind of curse? 

Was this some kind of suicidal cult?

All these questions, however, seemed to be useless as he couldn't seem to find anything else about the flame victims. All records of their names, identities, or lives seemed to have been erased from the internet. It was as if they had never existed, or as if someone was trying to make it look like they had never existed. Thomas knew a challenge when he saw one, and decided to work even harder to crack this case.

After nearly two months, however, Thomas began to lose hope. Each lead or clue he found seemed to lead to a dead end, and with nothing to go off, it would be almost impossible to find out the cause of the deaths, especially considering his victims were in an entirely different country. 

And then, one morning, as the early light filtered through his window, it came to him on his computer screen. 

The breakthrough he'd been waiting for.

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Olivia: You know John will have your head for this when he finds out you're gone.

As Thomas finished the preparations for his trip, he thought about the consequences of his actions and shuddered. The only person he felt he could tell about his plan was Olivia Violet, partly because he knew she would try to talk sense into him, and partly because he knew even if she didn't support his plan, she wouldn't stop him.

Thomas: I don't care what my father does, this is way more important than whatever boarding school he wants to send me to.

Olivia: I know you want to help people but there are other ways besides this. I mean, if what you discovered is actually real, you could be dealing with some extremely dangerous junk you know. Did it ever occur to you that the lot who sent the message are the ones behind the string of mysterious deaths? 

Thomas didn't answer for a while, instead staring intently at the briefcase packed in front of him. He knew that this would be a huge risk, and he knew that he didn't want to die. The idea of simply passing from existence terrified him more than most else. 

But sitting by—doing nothing—wasn't an option. He couldn't just wait around for someone else to figure it out. How could he? 

Thomas: You know, Violet… I've been thinking a lot lately. I've had everything handed to me. A cushy life, fancy schools, and I still managed to find a way to screw it all up.

Olivia: I-

He scratched the back of his neck, his grin fading slightly but still present, like he was trying to keep the mood light despite the gravity of the situation.

Thomas: And now, here I am, chasing something I can barely wrap my head around. I mean, it's not like I woke up one day thinking, 'Hey, wouldn't it be cool to risk my life in another country?' But if I don't... then what's left?

His voice dropped slightly, the humor thinning out as his words turned more serious, but the absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. He gave a small shrug.

Thomas: Honestly, if my life were a movie, I'd be the guy in the background who trips over his own feet during a big chase scene. I know I'm not some hero. I know I'm probably going to screw this up. But... if there's one thing I can do, just one thing, it's this.

He exhaled, his smile softening but still there, like a layer of armor against the doubt trying to creep in.

Thomas: I'm scared, Olivia. Terrified, actually. But if I turn my back on this—on the one thing I can do, the one thing that scares me most—I'll never be able to live with myself.

Olivia:-

Thomas: And besides…

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As Thomas stared through the plane window he thought about the last few months of his life. He had spent so much time and effort focusing on this case. Perhaps the deaths were merely a coincidence. 

Logically, the deaths didn't even make sense and seemed like something straight out of fiction. Thomas considered just reporting the findings to the police, wondering if this was simply something bigger than him, but he dismissed these thoughts at once. 

He wasn't doing this to have fun or to joke around. Because he knew about the horrors that awaited him in this city, it was his responsibility to stop them. Even if nobody believed in the story about the black flame, he knew it was real, and was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

This was his purpose. 

To save Mason Heartson.