Interlude:

Eileen Davis leaned back in her chair and blew out a stream of thick smoke while staring at the lit end of her cigar. Sitting on her desk in front of her was a half-finished glass of bourbon.

“Shouldn’t you wait until you’re off duty for that?” Owen Nash asked as he stepped into her office.

“Shouldn’t you mind your own business?” she responded with a faint smile before pouring him a glass as well.

“I probably should,” Nash agreed as he accepted the glass. “But someone has to keep tabs on you.”

Davis chuckled at that before taking another pull on her cigar. “This Jace situation is a total shitshow. At least she didn’t kill anyone.”

Nash took a sip of his bourbon and nodded. “I’m just glad we didn’t have to put her down.”

“Yeah,” Davis agreed with a nod. She was thankful for that as well.

Dealing with rogue players could be extremely dangerous, and a lot of Wardens had been killed by players who decided that the rules didn’t apply to them. That they had power, so they could do whatever they wanted.

In the old days, before her time, the situation had been even worse. Back then, Wardens had been forced to deal with every rogue player on their own, without any real support. They’d been forced to get vicious, nasty, and creative just to take down the rogue threats. Fortunately, these days things were different. Now, the Wardens often acted more as consultants and advisors while heavily armed SWAT teams and even other players were the ones to get their hands dirty.

“Jace,” Davis said with a sigh of frustration. “I knew she was going to be trouble. Always complaining about her lost dick and her lost money. Spending way too many nights getting drunk and looking for someone to take it out on.” She shook her head and added, “Trust fund babies shouldn’t be respawned.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” Nash responded.

“Did you see that fight?” Davis asked Nash. “The way Maggie took Jace down?”

“I saw it,” Nash responded, giving her a wry look. “I was there with you when it happened.”

Davis drew on her cigar, then blew the smoke out off to the side. “That move she used…”

“I recognized it from training,” Nash said with a thoughtful look. “What was it called again? The Up Town Sweep?”

“Something like that,” Davis responded with a chuckle. “It’s a niche move…highly specialized. It’s meant to take down a charging player by using their own momentum against them. Not many people outside the Wardens use that kind of move, so where the hell did she learn it?”

Nash hesitated a moment before suggesting, “The same place we did?”

Davis set her cigar down into the ashtray and then took a sip of bourbon. She closed her eyes for a moment to feel the burn run down her throat. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“So, what now?” Nash asked.

“Now,” Davis said, gesturing to a cardboard box full of files. “We need to get this to the remote office so they can all be scanned into the computer and saved. We’ll also need to schedule our next propane delivery.”

“And let me guess,” Nash responded with a wry smile. “You want me to take care of that.”

“Consider it a training opportunity,” Davis told him with a chuckle. “And while you take care of that, I have something I need to do.”

Once Nash left the room with the box of files, Davis looked at her notebook. It contained her notes on nearly every player who had come through town. She’d always made a point to record her thoughts and observations about each one, because she never knew when they’d come in handy.

Her eyes settled on the most recent entry, the one she’d written down a couple hours earlier. It was her observations of the fight and her growing suspicions about Maggie.

Finally, Davis opened the drawer to her desk and pulled out a small round mirror that was only a little larger than the palm of her hand. This was not just a mirror, it was an artifact that was magically connected to an identical mirror. She tapped her finger on the surface, signaling the person who held the other mirror that she had a message.

“I think I found a possible candidate,” Davis said to the mirror.

----------

Maya Ramirez stood in the foyer of the Warden headquarters, her eyes locked on a picture that hung on the wall. It was an old picture, one that had been taken during the earliest days of their organization. Twelve people had been posing for the camera, lined up and each looking serious and professional.

“They’re all gone now,” Maya whispered, feeling a vague sadness at that fact. The last of those twelve founders, the old guard as they were often called, had died little more than a month earlier. His passing had marked the end of an era.

She had never met any of those people, as all of the founders had left the Warders well before she’d joined. Maya felt a bit of regret at that, wondering what it would have been like to hear stories from the early days, from people who’d actually been there. The things that they’d dealt with, before anyone even understood what players were and what they could do.

“We’ll get the bastards who killed you,” Maya promised, staring at one of the men in that picture.

A few seconds later, Maya turned and continued into the building. It didn’t take her long to reach her office where she quickly slipped behind her desk so she could read the latest reports.

Maya absently reached for the small mini-fridge which was hidden behind her desk and pulled out a cold soda. She didn’t even look at the Diet Coke as she opened the can and took a sip. Instead, her attention was on the e-mail in front of her.

Before long, there was a knock on her door. She looked up since she’d left the door open, seeing a familiar figure stepping in without waiting for an invitation.

“Simon,” Maya said in greeting to her partner.

Simon Harris nodded. “Maya.”

“Mad Mike and Raze have been spotted,” Maya abruptly began, naming the two players that they’d been investigating for over a month. She knew Simon would want this information as soon as possible since this case was personal to him.

“Where?” Simon asked, leaning forward expectantly.

“The British Columbia entrance,” Maya answered grimly. “Three days ago. The report said that they were trying to recruit a delve team but were interrupted by the local Wardens. Now, we have another dead Warden and they escaped into the Labyrinth.”

“Damn,” Simon said with a deep growl. “Do we know who we lost?”

Maya shook her head. “I haven’t heard a name yet.”

Simon let out a sigh and shook his head. “One more Warden that they’re going to pay for.”

“We’ll get them,” Maya assured him. “Every Warden has been given their descriptions, so if they show up anywhere, we should hear about it.”

“Good,” Simon said. “Very good.” Then he took a deep breath to calm himself before looking her in the eye. “But that isn’t why I came in here.”

Maya shifted mental gears. “What’s going on then?”

“Well,” Simon said, hesitating a moment before he finished, “Your request has been approved.”

“My request?” she asked blankly, until she realized which request he had to be referring to. Her eyes widened. “You mean…?”

“Yeah,” Simon agreed, giving her a faint smile. “You’ve been approved for a run.”