You and Cloud had been working in the CSI for a long time now. Long enough to know each other’s habits, long enough to anticipate how the other would act on a case. He was the silent observer, sharp and calculating, while you were better at reading the people around you and piecing together motives. It was why you were usually partnered together: he dealt with the facts, you dealt with the meaning behind them.

Tonight was no different. The two of you walked side by side down the dimly lit street, the mission location looming just ahead—a crumbling warehouse at the edge of town. The reports mentioned strange activity, the kind that didn’t fit the usual break-in or homicide cases. Something was off about this one.

The silence stretched between you, your footsteps echoing faintly. You were about to say something, but Cloud beat you to it, his voice low, almost thoughtful.

“How do you think this mission will go?”

You glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable as always, eyes fixed forward, but the fact that he’d asked at all said more than his words. He wasn’t the type to indulge in small talk.

“You’re asking me?” you replied, raising a brow. “That’s new. Usually, you just… stare at the crime scene until it gives up its secrets.”

For a second, you swore the corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smirk, but it faded as quickly as it came.

“I just want to know if you’re ready,” he said flatly.

“I’ve been ready since we got the call,” you shot back, though you softened your tone after. “But you’re worried about this one, aren’t you?”

Cloud didn’t answer right away. His silence spoke louder than words sometimes. Finally, he muttered, “Something feels wrong.”

That made you pause. Cloud wasn’t the type to rely on feelings—he trusted evidence, data, facts. If even he had a bad feeling, you knew to be on guard.

By the time you reached the warehouse, the atmosphere was thick, heavy. The air smelled of dust and rust, the kind of decay that came from years of abandonment. But there was something else too—something faintly metallic that didn’t belong.

Cloud pushed the door open carefully, his hand brushing against the hilt of his weapon out of habit. You followed, pulling out your flashlight to sweep across the darkness. The beam caught scattered papers, overturned chairs, and shattered glass. A struggle had happened here.

“Looks recent,” Cloud murmured, crouching to examine the ground. “See that? Footprints. Multiple people. Someone was dragged…”

Cloud knelt beside you, eyes narrowing as he inspected the body.