The Subtextual Approach (Part 8)

Posted on Wed Jul 23rd, 2025 @ 3:00am by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Commander Irene Seya

1,963 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: How to See in the Dark
Location: Jerache District, City of Lorna, Barisa Prime
Timeline: MD 02, 1105 Hours

Irene and Jean-Baptiste moved past a stall where a woman sold sun-bleached fabrics in a variety of sea-glass colours, her hands moving like little birds over the folds.

The air around them was now thick with a multitude of smells: grilled flatbreads crackling on hot stones, something sharp and herbal entwined within the vapour rising from a copper kettle, fresh pungent local spices bundled and arrayed on an angled wooden display drying in the late-morning sun.

A child darted between them, clutching a paper cone of candied nuts, giggling as she weaved through the adults like a minnow slipping between reeds.

The pair visited a produce stand and purchased Barisian huskfruit, then to a bakery and selected a random loaf of bread. The purchases made for no other reason than to give them a reason for being in the market before they slipped off into the residential neighborhoods and on to their target.

The moved through a final line of stalls like a pair of locals returning home from the market, unnoticed yet entirely present.

JB's fingers flexed around the rough huskfruit, the texture grounding him as the scents swirled--sun-baked earth, dried herbs, and the the warm breeze carrying that salty tang which was ubiquitous throughout the city.

They turned a corner, the chatter fading into a distant hum, the market's noise replaced by the rhythms of home: children playing with marbles, women hanging laundry on lines that flapped like flags, men seated in small circles over steaming cups of bitter tea.

He knew they were exactly three residential blocks south and one block east of the target residence. Of course, they needed an eyeball confirmation that at least one of the subjects--the family they'd seen at the beachside bar--were there.

The comm clicked open in both their ears, hushed whispers from the security team reporting in.

[Haller and Ng in position to the northwest of the residence.]

[Tayne and K'Lex here--we're at the southwestern point.]

"That's two units in place," he whispered to Irene, who was now a step ahead of him as they cut through a brick-fenced back alley that separated small living units.

"Unless we come across one of the individuals that you recognize as your attackers, we still don't have probable cause to make a move. Ideally the girl will leave the house and we can make contact, so that we know where she is if we need to breach." Irene turned and slowed her step slightly. "Walk up here with me, you might raise suspicions if you continue to stay on my back like that. We should look like we belong here. Trust the detail to have our backs."

JB adjusted his pace, falling in beside her. The narrow alley looked to open slightly, enough for them to walk shoulder to shoulder. Above them, a row of faded laundry flapped in the breeze: men's undershirts, sequined dresses, and baby blankets.

At the far end of the alley, they crossed a narrow street and made for a low-rise tenement of gold-and-black brick. JB tipped his chin subtly toward a recessed red door, dented near the bottom as if someone had once kicked it in frustration. The scene of wood smoke and cloves thickened around them--someone nearby was cooking something.

The building stood three storeys high, its eastern face choked with ivy that didn't seemed to be holding on for dear life. Above, a line of steel balconies jutted-out, each one different: a cracked plastic chair here, a crooked tomato pot there. Someone's shirt drying on the bars. A rusted fire escape zigzagged upward, looking tired and thin, but still doing its job nonetheless.

The slipped through the door one after the other--pre-scout had confirmed it would be unlocked. On the other side, a long corridor stretched out before them in alternating panels of beige and brown tile, scuffed and cracked from decades of wear. Apartment doors lined either wall in neat intervals, each with its own character.

The air inside was a melting pot of domestic life. JB discerned at least three different scents--onions frying in oil, something vinegary simmering, and the faint sweetness of freshly-cut fruit. Not to mention an undercurrent of floor polish and pipe rust. Realizing he was still carrying the huskfruit, he set it down in front of an apartment door and looked at Irene.

"Stairwell is that way," he whispered, pointing to a door halfway down the corridor. "It should provide us with roof access."

"I'm right with you." Irene spoke softly as they walked through the corridor. It was quiet inside the building, at least on the first floor where they entered, the only noises were the muffled sounds of traffic or children playing outside drifting in through the still open door.

Irene took note of the interior structure as they made their way to the staircase. The exterior had an almost antiquated look about it, and at first glance the interior seemed similarly aged; however, on closer inspection, there were some masked signs of some modern technology. The doors to the apartments were sparse, and light appeared to peek out from underneath them. However, her keen hearing detected no sounds from inside any of the apartments. She began to suspect they were false doors and that nothing may be as it seemed.

"We can't talk here," She whispered, electing to wait until they were further away from the building to go into detail. "Let's get upstairs, and try to not arouse any suspicions."

The stairwell groaned beneath them. A lone light filament cast a jaundiced light above the landing. They moved ahead quietly but with purpose, boots making soft scuffing sounds on the steps.

At the top, a rusted door led onto the roof. JB gave it a slow push, careful of the hinges. It opened without complaint--as though it had nothing to say.

The rooftop unfolded into bright late-morning light. The Jerache district spread beneath them in soft stacks--low brick, flat rooftops, and glassless windows catching sunlight. They could hear children's voices floating up from one of the courtyards two buildings over. The sound of someone hammering sheet metal drifting in from the south.

The tenement in question was a stubby row-end unit, about thirty meters away. It had a brown render and soot-streaked tiled roof. One dormer window was cracked open for airflow. From their current angle, JB could see the small courtyard in back: clothesline, empty water pails, a square garden clawed from the dirt. It appeared to be typical for any family unit.

JB slipped the binoculars from his jacket and handed them to Irene. "You'll have the better eye."

Irene kept the binoculars held inconspicuously to her side for the time being. She spoke softly as she explained her concerns. "The technology applied to interior construction of the interior apartments is incongruous to the aesthetics of this building and perhaps deliberately deceptive. There were no sounds coming from within the apartments on the first floor, all ambient noise was from the exterior of the building."

Jean-Baptiste's brow furrowed. "Sounds like a prison disguised as apartments."

"Interesting thought." Irene drifted over to the rooftop edge and casually looked over, taking note of the balconies below. They could be staged, or not all apartments or floors may have the same reinforced interior she suspected on the ground floor. "This building should be investigated further, though perhaps not today. There may be an operation here attempting to conceal itself in plain sight. I'd like to place it under covert surveillance."

Irene turned to face the direction of the market before lifting the binoculars to her face. There wasn't much of interest in that direction, she looked into trees and flying craft before casually turning her way toward the target building. She was apprehensive about resting her attention there for two long, concerned the rooftop they were standing on may already be under its own surveillance. She noted it was an apartment building of similar design, though it appeared slightly more up to day, well-maintained down to the landscaping.

JB stood near the rooftop's edge, hands tucked in his pockets, doing his best to look like a man taking in the skyline. The air was thick with the usual city blend--haze, heat, and dust. He let his gaze drift toward the apartment building across the way. Second-storey windows: all covered. Curtains, blinds, something heavier. Nothing to see.

He edged forward slightly, just enough to peer downward. When he looked up again, one window--first floor--offered a glimpse into a kitchen. A woman stood at the counter, backlit by a light somewhere beneath her. It was hard to make out the details, but she looked youngish, maybe thirty-five, long blond hair tied back. Her face, when she turned, held no particular emotion. Not alarm, but not ease. Just stillness. Then she stepped away and out of view.

"One female on the ground floor, south face. Maybe in the kitchen."

Irene handed him the binoculars. "Do you recognize her?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. "It's not her."

"The second floor is completely dark. We could stay up here a while, but we might miss our opportunity for contact if they leave." Irene looked at JB, "What would you like to do?" She asked, an understanding in her voice that this mission had become something more for the Lieutenant.

He sighed low and haltingly, like air being released from a cracked seal. Of course, they couldn't be in two places at once. They needed to be in that alley across the street in the event that someone stepped out of that building.

"Let's get to our position, ma'am."

Irene nodded her head in agreement. "Alright, let's go."

JB pocketed the binoculars and they moved back down the stairwell, the metal groaning under their weight. By the time they reached the main floor again, the hall was unchanged--still quiet, and heavy with the smell of cooking and polish.

They stopped at the threshold just before the battered red door.

JB pressed two fingers to the comm in his ear. "Roof recon complete. Any sign of movements from ground level?"

There was a brief hiss of static, then Tayne's voice cut through. [Copy that. We have no line-of-sight into the building.]

He glanced at Irene. "So we move to our position?"

"Yes, but let's take it slow." Irene pushed the door open and led them out into the open. The sun was high in the horizon, the day growing brighter as they approached the noon hour. "Something about this neighborhood," she added in vague elaboration. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses as she took a casual look around. "I feel like there might be something to see."

He followed her out, the sun catching in his collar and the heat gathering slow and thick between his shoulder blades. The street had changed while they were inside--same buildings, same air, but quieter now. As though the neighbourhood had sensed them and were now being more watchful.

They stepped into a gap between two walls--half-street, half-passage--and the sound dimmed again. A narrow path led them between two more buildings. He could hear his own breath and feel his own pulse in his hands. In his chest, a small voice spoke: She might be in there. She might not.

They found themselves emerging out of the narrow passage and exactly where they needed to be--southeast corner of the building, twenty meters back. A brick wall marked the edge of a ground-level garden to a neighbouring unit, the kind tenants rarely used, and they stood just kitty-corner to the rear entrance. As before, every window was blacked-out, and the building seemed stand mute and resolute--no light, no sound, and nothing moving.


~tbc~

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