Feel it surround you, enveloping your senses, breathe in the crisp morning breeze as the scent of freshly mown grass wafts up and tickles your nose, then the choking smell of dog poop left by some inconsiderate stray or by some lazy owner as they walked their dog through the park, and with that scent of poop comes the realization that your meditation is now interrupted.

That’s how I know I can never fully establish calm and tranquillity here, not in the city. Not with all the distraction and smells and noise, and busy bustle of bodies. It just doesn’t sit well with me, there’s no grass here, no naturalness, nothing that screams out to me and speaks of beauty. So why do I live here? I don’t. I’m here on a mission. I’d much rather be home on my ranch, but here I am, chasing down some clues for Desmond.

What he thinks I’ll find out is beyond me, but before I can go looking, I need to focus. It’s how my power works. I can’t exactly just determine where something is, I need balance, harmony, meditation. None of that is possible in this stinking, noisy, polluted mess of a city.

I try to relax my body and meditate again, but I’m interrupted a second time by the sound of a barking dog behind me, and the vibrations of my silenced cell phone in my pants pocket. I finally relent and grab it out to see who it is calling. It’s Desmond. He knows not to call this early into a mission. So I can only assume he has some vital information for me.

“Hello?” I answer. “Desmond? I hope you’re not just calling to see how I am?”

“Agent Baird, I’m glad I caught you, I need you to return to base asap!” Desmond says cheerily. “We have some new information that you’re going to want to hear in person.”

“Anything to do with the chatter I read about earlier?”

“No, well, not directly,” Desmond answers, stalling.

“It’s a yes or no question, Des, either you have something for me about this morning’s chatter or you don’t, which is it?”

“Well, we have a person in custody related to the chatter from this morning, and he has some information for you, but the information is not to do with the chatter, this is about the mission.”

“He has info on the artefact?”

“He does, and he says he’ll only tell you and only if you agree to meet him here using your power. He says he’s never met anyone like you, and would like to see how you tick.”

“How I…? Oh nevermind! I’ll be there shortly, gimme a few minutes to gather myself,” I reply, hitting the end call button.

How I tick, that’s rich, that is. Who does this guy think he’s dealing with? Some street performer doing cheap parlour tricks? Well I’ve got news for him. I quickly check around me and stand, uncurling my legs from the lotus position and stretching out my legs. Then checking around again, to see that I’m alone in the park I unfold the doorframe and step through the passageway. I emerge a second later on the other side of the doorframe in an office foyer, sitting behind a sturdy looking grey marble reception desk is Wendy Wilkins-One. She’s a clone, but more on that later.

“Morning One!” I say, as I pass by her desk. “Good day for a stroll in the park if that’s your thing…”

“Morning Agent!” She replies amicably. “Desmond is waiting for you in Room 5.”

I head down the hallway to the left of the reception desk and walk through to room 5, sitting inside at one side of a small interrogation table is my boss, Desmond Dyson; he’s standing hands on the table in front of him staring at his informant.

His informant is a middle aged man, dressed in a 3 quarter length khaki trench coat, brown trousers and black shoes. His black shoe closest to my side of the table is beating a steady rhythm on the floor near the table leg.

“Morning Des, who’s this then, I assume it’s the man wanting to see ‘how I tick’?” I say, as I join Desmond at his side of the table.

“Bast, this is Frank Germaine, he says he has info for you on the Banjo,” Des responds gesturing toward his witness.

“Well? What this info you have for us? I do hope you haven’t wasted our time just to see ‘how I tick’…”

“Quite the contrary Agent Baird, you see, I know exactly what you’re looking for, and I know where to find it. But if you’d like that information, I’m going to need to see some magic. Show me what you can do and I’ll tell you what I know,” Germaine replied, smugly folding his arms in front of himself on the table.

I changed my tone then, if Germaine wanted to see some magic, I’d show him some, at by the end of the conversation he’d have given me everything he knows and be none the wiser that I’d done any sort of magic; the perks of being a bard with Magency training.

I spoke softly, ensuring to keep my voice level and crisp “You know, Mr. Germaine, I have a different idea, why don’t you tell me what I want to know and at the end if you’re feeling up to it, I’ll show you some of what I can do, ‘how I tick’ if you will,” I said, keeping his gaze.

It didn’t work. Germaine simply laughed, and then began chanting a series of curses under his breath.

“What is he….?” Desmond started to ask.

And then I realised, this man wasn’t here with info; he was here to try to thwart us, to try to destroy us from within. I caught the final verse of his quiet curse chant and ducked into a roll for the door to room 5.

I ran from the room as an army of undead ghouls and zombies spilled out into the corridor, as I ran I yelled down the corridor to Wendy Wilkins-One, “One! Put us in lock down and grab a door-frame tuned to backup HQ, we’re under attack!”

Just as Wendy Wilkins-One grabbed the door-frame tuned to backup HQ the tide of undead spilled out into the foyer, Frank Germaine at their rear, herding them like cattle.

“Now, Wendy!” I yelled before ripping my pan flute from my pants pocket and belting out a quick protection spell melody, a barrier of sorts to stem the tide of undead until we were clear of Head Office.

When the barrier was in place Wendy activated the door-frame, and we stepped through, we’d need to send a clean-up crew to take care of the undead invasion, but until then we were safely through the passage to backup HQ.

At a desk identical to the one at Head Office sat Wendy Wilkins-Two.

“Morning Agent Baird!” Two said cheerily. “I can see you’ve had a raiser problem. I’ve sent a clean-up crew to head office ahead of your arrival, the Director would like a word. Oh, and One, it’s time for a skills upgrade for you and I,” she finished, with a friendly smile.