The streets were jammed almost everywhere, bustling with Christmas activity. Strings of lights draped over storefronts cast a warm glow over the sidewalks, where last-minute shoppers hurried by with bulging bags. Children tugged at their parents' hands, their faces lit up with anticipation, while street performers in Santa hats played cheerful carols for tips.
"It's not even Christmas, look at the crowd. Throwing early early celebration and blocking the road creating an unnecessary traffic.," I said, my engine stopped. I looked at other drivers who had been reading newspaper.
"It's like a festive traffic apocalypse," Sasha muttered from the passenger seat, her gaze flitting between the clogged roads and the crowds spilling onto the sidewalks.
I maneuvered the car through the chaos, my focus sharp. "It's Christmas. What did you expect?"
"Maybe that people would already be home wrapping presents or something," she said, crossing her arms. "But no, apparently everyone decided today's the day to squeeze in all the holiday spirit."
A red light halted our slow progress, giving me a moment to glance out the window. A group of carolers stood on the corner, their harmonized voices cutting through the city noise. A little girl holding a candy cane waved at us through the glass. Sasha caught the gesture and managed a faint smile, but her eyes quickly returned to me.
"So, where exactly are we going, sir?" she asked, her tone skeptical.
I didn't answer immediately, instead accelerating when the light changed. The festive chaos of the city began to thin as we approached a quieter part of town, where the decorations were fewer, and the streets darker.
"You'll know when we get there," I said finally, my voice low, the festive warmth outside now feeling like a distant memory.
Sasha straightened in her seat, her instincts kicking in. The holiday cheer had faded, replaced by the cold weight of something far less joyful.
I drove the car. The road seemed to be clearing a little cleared up.
The road cleared up as we drove further, the bustle of the city fading into a distant hum. By the time we reached Schwat City, it was just past 3 p.m., the drive lasting about thirty minutes. The area felt quieter, almost subdued, with only a few sparse decorations hanging from lampposts, a stark contrast to the chaos we'd left behind in Dahm.
I parked the car on the side of a nearly deserted street. The stillness of the area was unsettling, as if the Christmas spirit had forgotten this corner of the world entirely. I checked my watch, then glanced at Sasha.
She sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window with a look that could only be described as sulky. The expression reminded me of my younger sister when she didn't get her way—though, to be fair, my sister was taller and far less prone to grumbling.
"What are you thinking, sir?" Sasha asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharp, almost accusatory.
"Nothing," I replied quickly, glancing away.
"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You've been staring at me like I've grown an extra head."
I cleared my throat and focused on the dashboard. "Just... wondering why you look like you're about to start a mutiny."
She scoffed. "Maybe because I thought I'd be enjoying some peace and quiet by now, but instead, I'm stuck in a car playing Christmas traffic dodgeball and heading to God-knows-where. That's enough to make anyone grumpy."
Her frustration was palpable, but I couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "You're not that grumpy," I said. "Just... spirited."
"Spirited?" she repeated, giving me a look that could freeze over the Pacific.
"Fine. Grumpy," I admitted, holding up my hands in mock surrender.
She huffed, leaning back in her seat, her glare softening slightly. I shifted in my seat, suppressing a chuckle. Women were all Greek to me. Maybe it was just stress, or maybe it was that time of the month—though I wisely kept that thought to myself.
"Are we getting out of the car, or are we just going to sit here all day?" Sasha asked, her voice breaking through my musings.
"We're getting out," I said, grabbing my coat. "Time to meet someone who might know more about Noah Dawson."
Her expression turned serious, the grumpiness fading. She followed my lead as I stepped out into the chilly afternoon, the quiet streets of Schwat City stretching out before us like an unspoken promise of trouble.
I stepped out of the car, locking it with a click as Sasha and I moved toward the building. Lucky, the company was just near the public parking. The air around the office was eerily quiet, devoid of the holiday cheer and liveliness we'd left behind. No bustling employees, no welcoming decorations—just a few poorly strung fairy lights swaying weakly in the chilly breeze.
The building itself was tall and imposing, its reflective glass exterior catching the dull gray sky. For a company with a reputation like SuperTech Pvt. Ltd., I had expected something... different.
Sasha's heels clicked sharply against the marble tiles of the porch, the sound echoing in the stillness. She glanced around, her nose wrinkling slightly as if the place carried an unpleasant odor.
"This is it?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"I didn't expect this," I admitted, my eyes scanning the desolate scene.
"It doesn't look like a company," she said, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets. "It looks like one of those old government buildings they renovate halfway and then abandon again."
She wasn't wrong. The place felt like it had been hollowed out—too clean, too empty, too quiet.
"You're right," I said, hesitating for a moment. "But the structure's still solid. Maybe this is just one of their lesser-used branches. A place for behind-the-scenes work. You know—paperwork, data processing, that sort of thing."
Sasha gave me a pointed look. "You're really reaching for an explanation, sir."
I didn't answer immediately, letting my gaze wander up the smooth walls of the building. She wasn't wrong to be skeptical. For a supposed tech giant, the lack of activity was glaring.
"Maybe it's just quieter during the holidays," I said finally, though even I didn't believe it.
"Or maybe," Sasha said, stepping closer to the entrance, "there's a reason this place feels like a ghost town."
The glass doors slid open as we approached, revealing an unwelcoming lobby. The silence inside was even heavier, pressing down on us like a physical weight. A single receptionist's desk sat at the center, polished to a shine but completely unoccupied.
I paused at the threshold, scanning the room. There was no movement, no sound except the faint hum of a flickering light overhead.
"This doesn't feel right," Sasha said, her voice low.
"No," I admitted, stepping forward cautiously. "It doesn't."
As we entered, the glass doors closed behind us with an almost menacing hiss, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd just stepped into the kind of place people don't leave easily.