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"Three of them. Fast. No lights. Is this a Church of the Evernight Goddess Nighthawks team on the job?"
Either way — having encountered them, there was no reason not to take a look.
The reason he'd been so careful before — cautious enough that a low-level gang acting out of character was enough to make him abandon the idea of following the thread further — was precisely that he knew nothing about this world's supernatural abilities. Not knowing how far those abilities extended into things like reconstructing events, finding clues, and distinguishing truth from deception had left him passive and hesitant whenever anything hinting at an Extraordinary was involved.
The only way to change that was information. And information about something this valuable and dangerous wasn't the kind anyone gave away freely.
As a self-taught independent with no organization and no mentor, watching other Extraordinaries in action was genuinely the most reliable opportunity he had for a closer look at supernatural power.
There was some risk of exposure — but it was safer than being the one being chased.
Honestly, if approaching the church's Extraordinaries directly wasn't almost certain to result in immediate apprehension, and if the hidden supernatural organizations that might exist in the shadows weren't both impossible to locate and impossible to trust, Ryan would have sought a group and found someone to shelter under long ago.
So when he recognized this was probably a Nighthawks team moving on a target, he didn't hesitate for a second before following.
His Assassin senses — sharp vision, sharp hearing, and the concealment that came with them — were the not-entirely-sufficient foundation of confidence that let him do this at all.
The footsteps he'd heard were actually very quiet — not enough to disturb anyone's sleep. Even his potion-enhanced hearing had only caught them because of the nighttime stillness.
The three were moving at a solid pace on the ground, but not as fast as Ryan going across rooftops. Within seconds, three figures in black coats had appeared in his field of view ahead.
He exhaled softly and began closing the distance, carefully.
Three figures in black — night vision confirmed, dark coats. Almost certainly Church of the Evernight Goddess Nighthawks.
They appeared to have no ability to conceal their bodies or suppress sound. Or possibly they didn't need it at this stage — before reaching the target, there was no need for stealth.
The one in the middle, slightly ahead of the others: strongest physical conditioning. This pace was well within their capacity; the slight lead was probably pacing down for the others. Likely the highest Sequence, most capable of the three.
The other two's breathing was steady. Their reactions and speed while avoiding obstacles weren't much worse than his own without Featherfall. Whether because their potion also favored agility, because their Sequences were higher than his, or because he without Featherfall simply wasn't all that agile — he genuinely couldn't say.
He was still pondering that last possibility with mild dejection when the central figure, slightly ahead, turned and looked directly toward the rooftop where Ryan was positioned. The Assassin's response was fast enough — he'd read the leader's slight deceleration and reacted before the turn completed, ducking instantly.
He wasn't about to trust that Shadow Concealment would hold up to direct scrutiny. Standing on a rooftop staring back at someone was not a risk worth taking. A Church of the Evernight Goddess Nighthawks being able to pierce Shadow Concealment was entirely plausible.
"How did they notice me?"
From ahead, a short exchange:
"Captain?" — young male voice.
"Nothing." — middle-aged male voice. Calm, steady. The kind of voice you knew belonged to someone formidable.
The three didn't linger. Footsteps resumed within seconds.
Ryan edged carefully around the wall, testing several times before confirming he wasn't being baited.
"So not spotted — just… sensed that someone was watching him?"
That would explain stopping to look for only a few seconds and then moving on as if nothing had happened.
"But how did he do it? Intuition?" It reminded him of his own ability — Danger Intuition.
The potion's description: "When danger is imminent, instinct provides a premonition of the threat."
Since he couldn't exactly manufacture danger to test it on himself, he'd largely ignored this passive ability. Only now, watching the team leader's reaction, did he remember it existed.
"Plausible. Before he turned, there was no change in motion. I'd been keeping this fifty-meter distance for a while, and they were walking into the wind — smell was unlikely. If I stopped looking directly at him — would he still sense it?" He decided to test it later.
Before he could close the distance, the three ahead had already begun slowing. They'd arrived.
Another stretch of ordinary slum. The three still hadn't spoken. The one called Captain stood still; the other two fanned out around him, scanning the surroundings — taking up a watchful perimeter.
Ryan couldn't make sense of it. Aside from your two teammates, there's no one here. Do you need a target to use your ability? Is the Captain replaying the events at this location? Or does this ability have a very wide range?
The Captain naturally wasn't going to answer him. All Ryan could do was guess. He was clearly searching for something — the question was how.
He turned over his earlier speculation: a deity's full title was essentially a summary of the supernatural abilities acquired through their potion pathway.
Applied to the current scene: he pulled his attention inward, focused everything on sound, and waited to see if anything unusual emerged that might confirm the theory.
The Captain's breathing was very light — like someone standing asleep. Ahead of him, a wider patchwork of breathing rose and fell in the rhythms of sleep.
After a while, the Captain opened his eyes and made a gesture. The three began moving again. If Ryan hadn't caught the shift in footsteps and the return of the Captain's breathing to its normal rhythm, he might not have realized they'd left.
"Unusually quiet. It's the middle of the night — no conversation at all?"
This time the three stopped again after only a short distance. Same formation.
"Roughly two hundred meters in a straight line from the last position." He noted it and began repeating what he'd done before.
This time, he caught something different. Every ten seconds or so, one person's breathing would suddenly become very shallow, their snoring diminishing noticeably — then return to normal ten seconds later.
"He's affecting the sleeping people. Sleep-related ability? Using their dreams to gather information? Or does anyone he touches while asleep simply reveal what he wants to know? Or — can he only read people when they're already asleep?" The Black Night Goddess's title ran through his mind and opened up a cascade of possibilities.
After another interval, the Captain's even voice rose:
"Confirmed. The docks."
"Nothing required at all — and he already has what he came for. That's alarming."
He glanced at the still-sleeping figures, and added quietly to himself: "And none of them know any of this happened."
He'd need to be careful. Even being suspected by the Church of the Evernight Goddess was a risk — once they came looking, he'd have no secrets.
Unsettling as it was, Ryan followed anyway. He still hadn't resolved how the Captain had sensed he was being watched.
To control variables, he replicated his approach from when he first spotted the three: closing the distance slowly and carefully. But this time keeping his eyes only on the two others, with the Captain's feet tracked only in his peripheral vision.
They reached the docks without incident. At this hour and in this weather, only a handful of bars still had lights on. The docks had no real sleeping spots — too cold for anyone to nap at a bar table, and too expensive for most to spend the night with a street woman.
Just as Ryan was puzzling over how the team would handle a target with no one sleeping nearby, the Captain gave a concise description:
"Blue hair, brown eyes, square face. Wearing dock-worker's uniform."
The three separated immediately, produced what appeared to be police credentials, and began questioning people on the basis of plainclothes investigation.
Ryan stared.
"Right. With the church's influence, getting their people police identifications would be trivial.
Or — they might genuinely be a specialized unit. Handling cases involving the supernatural — isn't that exactly what a specialized police unit does?" Once he framed it that way, the whole scene made perfect sense.
"Worth remembering. And this confirms it: the more powerful the Extraordinary, the more sensitive. Glancing at them briefly is one thing — staring consistently gets noticed."
The fact that he'd watched the two others for the entire route without either of them reacting suggested their range, even if they had something similar, was less than the Captain's — certainly less than fifty meters, which had been his distance when the Captain first turned.
What Sequence did you need to be to serve as a Nighthawks team captain? Experienced Sequence 8, or Sequence 7?
He waited. When he started to feel genuinely tired, the three concluded their inquiries and reunited. After a brief exchange, they moved off toward the northwest end of the docks.
Just as Ryan felt a flicker of excitement — finally, a chance to watch Extraordinaries actually fighting — the Nighthawks delivered a comprehensive lesson in the difference between the self-taught and the trained.
By the time he cautiously moved to a closer vantage, all he could see was the Captain standing still in an open area. Before Ryan could wonder why the other two weren't on guard duty, they both emerged from somewhere, pushing a bound man ahead of them.
The man had tried to resist. But every time he moved, his body slowed and his head drooped — the look of someone fighting sleep. His handlers would then kick him sharply to jolt him back to consciousness. The moment the pain cut through, he'd clear up again — only to have the cycle repeat.
"You are under arrest. Surrender, or we are authorized to use lethal force." The Captain raised his revolver, aim steady, tone perfectly level.
The only person left genuinely astonished was Ryan, watching from a distance.
"It's over already?"