Caught Red-Handed, Gentlemen

A thin man in a black suit looked around the hallway. He glanced at the camera, then lowered his head and walked toward the door of the target’s residence. "This target is truly strange, Mr. Riser. I suggest you observe him more instead of entering his residence directly." Just as Mr. Riser tried to unlock the apartment door with a skeleton key, a somewhat shy male voice came through his earpiece. However, he had no intention of stopping what he was doing.

"This target is in danger." Mr. Riser had an exceptionally charming voice, and his appearance was no different. His tall frame and perfectly proportioned muscles made his suit into armor. The word gentleman seemed tailor-made for him. His short dark hair was streaked with gray, but it did nothing to diminish his charm. In fact, whenever he needed to handle negotiations, he could always gain certain advantages with this appearance.

"There are many unidentified people monitoring his residence." Mr. Riser kept his head down as he worked, but he did not forget to communicate with his companion. "I can tell they’re all agents. They’re extremely alert, monitoring everyone who enters or leaves this building. The target should know about it, which is why he never opens his curtains. Other than going to the supermarket, he hardly goes anywhere."

"You don’t understand what I mean, Mr. Riser. Salomon Damonet, a United Kingdom citizen, a senior student at Eton College, soon to take his A-Level exams. No criminal record, no dental records, no medical examination records—apart from when he was a newborn. He doesn’t even have social media, and his social security number was only issued a few years ago. He seems to hold dual British and American citizenship. The only information related to him is the European Union Young Scientists’ Competition. Oh, I found his birth records. He was born in New York, his mother is dead, and his newborn vaccinations were administered at a New York hospital. Yet his registered nationality is British—I don’t think I need to remind you how much Eton College tuition costs, do I?"

"Looks like his adoptive parents treated him well."

"That’s the biggest problem. He has no guardians. London and New York are only five hours apart, but a flight from London to New York takes eight hours. Aside from taking leave recently, he has completed nearly all of his required class hours. In other words…"

"In other words, there may be two Salomon Damonets. Identity theft. We’ve encountered this before, but he’s a minor, Finch." Mr. Riser opened the apartment door and saw a fat gray shorthair cat sitting on the entryway rug. "The Salomon Damonet in New York is also living with two beautiful women." Mr. Riser stared at the fat cat. "And he keeps a strangely patterned cat."

"You’d better hurry, Mr. Riser. I saw a stranger enter the building. He’s heading upstairs. I think he may be connected to Salomon Damonet. This man is too clean. I’m not sure whether he’s a problem, Mr. Riser. There are too many mysteries surrounding him."

"Meow~" The fat gray cat yawned unhappily and walked off the rug.

"I’ll be quick, Finch." Mr. Riser followed the cat inside. He stepped onto the rug, and immediately afterward, his companion heard a dull collision.

"Are you all right, Mr. Riser?"

"I’m fine… I finally know why this person is being watched, Finch…" Mr. Riser said between gasps. "This person… is a wizard."

"What are you talking about?"

"He has a Rug of Smothering, Finch… Hah, don’t worry, I can get out. Maybe he doesn’t need our help at all…" Mr. Riser used his arms to resist the rug as it continuously tightened around him.

"Uh… there must be a reason the Machine gave us his number." The man on the other end of the earpiece sounded slightly hesitant.

"I’m sure you didn’t take wizards into consideration when you built that Machine… No need to be surprised. There are aliens and portals in New York… Hah…"

"Are you all right?"

"I’m fine, Finch… Hah…"

Agent Grant Ward went upstairs with an alloy briefcase in hand. Inside were documents his superior, Agent Coulson, had ordered him to deliver to the target. Yet Grant Ward had developed serious doubts about this simple assignment—why did everything around him feel so familiar, as though it all gave him a sense of déjà vu? Why did he taste black tea in his mouth? This hallway, this corner, the position of this camera, this fat gray cat, and this rug… Wait, who was this?

"Hey! Hands up! Who are you? Why are you here? Drop your weapon! I repeat, drop your weapon!" Agent Grant Ward drew his pistol and aimed it at Mr. Riser, who had just cut open the rug with a small knife and crawled out. Agent Ward shouted his warning at the man who was still gasping for breath.

"Finch, I’m in trouble," Mr. Riser said quietly. He turned around, tossed the knife onto the floor, then slowly drew the pistol from his waist and placed it on the ground. He raised both hands toward Agent Ward.

"Go inside, put your hands behind your back, and lie face down on the floor." To avoid attracting the attention of unrelated people, Agent Ward chose to have the man in front of him enter the apartment. Mr. Riser complied. This was not the first time he had encountered danger. He had once worked for the CIA and had faced far more perilous situations than this.

He had survived them all, without exception.

Agent Ward kept Mr. Riser covered with his gun, set down the briefcase, and pulled out handcuffs from behind his back. Just as he was about to cuff the suspect, an invisible force bit down on his ankle and knocked him to the floor. Caught off guard, Agent Ward fell hard and struck the back of his head heavily against the ground. A massive blur of twisting darkness and colored light flashed before his eyes, dizziness flooding his mind, and the pistol he had been gripping slipped from his hand. Mr. Riser seized the opportunity, leaping up and pouncing on Agent Ward.

He needed to subdue this man who had come looking for the target. He would surely be able to get clues from him.

At that moment, the invisible force grabbed his collar and held him suspended in midair. Before Mr. Riser could think of a way to break free, it yanked him by the collar and hurled him hard into the wall. After recovering from his initial dizziness, Agent Ward immediately got to his feet to fight back, only to be knocked down by that force once again.

The Cheshire Cat watched the two bipedal creatures repeatedly get up, fall down, get up again, and fall down again. It yawned in boredom, then rested its unknown number of chins atop its paws. So boring. These were two male bipeds, and there weren’t even any female bipeds here. Why were they fighting?

"Are you serious? I only went to Mexico to buy green chili sauce, and two people tried to break into my home?" Salomon grabbed the two men lying in the entryway by the collars. They had been thoroughly battered by the Arcanist’s magic. This was the fifth-circle spell Mage’s Faithful Hound Technique, except Salomon had modified it. The phantom guard dog that should have barked made no sound, and Salomon had also enhanced its defensive instincts—because dogs were not allowed in this building. If anyone heard barking, he would be in serious trouble.

The Artificial Human took over Salomon’s work. She placed the two men on chairs, confiscated all their weapons, and checked their communication devices and identification. Salomon pulled over a chair as well and sat opposite them, holding two miniature earpieces in his hand.

He knew Agent Ward, but Agent Ward did not know him, because that Enchantment Magic was still in effect. "Who are you? Oh, Agent Grant Ward, a member of Coulson’s team. I know you. And what about you, handsome gentleman? Who are you? Why did you come here?"

"You’re in danger, Salomon Damonet." Though he had been knocked senseless, Mr. Riser still warned Salomon. "I don’t know what is threatening your life, but you truly are in mortal danger!"

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Note 1: Rug of Smothering

Large construct, unaligned

Armor Class: 12

Hit Points: 33 (6d10)

Speed: 10 ft.

STR 17 (+3) DEX 14 (+2) CON 10 (+0)

INT 1 (-5) WIS 3 (-4) CHA 1 (-5)

Damage Immunities: poison, psychic

Condition Immunities: blinded, charmed, deafened, frightened, exhaustion, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned

Senses: blindsight 60 ft. (blind beyond this radius), passive Perception 6

Languages: —

Challenge: 2 (450 XP)

Actions

Smother. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one Medium or smaller creature. Hit: The target is grappled (escape DC 13). Until this grapple ends, the target is restrained and blinded, and is at risk of suffocating. The rug can smother only one creature at a time. In addition, the creature takes 10 (2d6 + 3) bludgeoning damage at the start of each of its turns.