A Storm of Secrets

Battered by the howling winds of a fierce Toronto storm, Hector Mares, an armorer at the Canadian Spacetime Agency, stepped into the chaotic scene of an enigmatic murder. Sheets of rain lashed his boots, the gusts pulling violently as he always hated at the forward motion of his shoulders. Thunder rumbled across the night sky, with brief flashes of lightning revealing the looming silhouette of an old mansion perched by the city's lakeside. The mansion's dark outline, stark against the stormy sky, seemed to defy the fury of the weather, standing as a silent witness to the night's grim events.

The city, blanketed by the storm, felt as though it held its breath. Whispers of the crime had spread quickly through the ranks of the Canadian Spacetime Agency. This was no ordinary case. Though officially an armorer, Hector Mares was deeply embedded in the agency's covert operations. His expertise extended beyond crafting advanced protective gear; he specialized in temporal adaptivity—devices that performed under the stresses of the fabric of time itself. When the bodies were discovered, shrunken to a fraction of their original size, the agency suspected experimental technology, and that’s why Mares had been summoned.

The victims—if they could still be called that—lay beneath five distinct shrouds in the dimly lit parlor, their forms reduced to almost unrecognizable doll-like figures. The heavy scent of rain-soaked wood mingled with the tension in the air. This was no longer just a police matter; it was Mares' domain, a space where the laws of physics defied people’s perceptions of what murder ought to be.

Mares had actually visited the mansion before, to video-edit it as a guest of his associate José Manganes, but this time felt different. The very fabric of reality seemed fragile, as though the storm outside wasn't the only force threatening to unravel existence. The victims’ bodies, stripped of their essence, unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

He needed answers—fast. His first call had been to Manganes, a physicist whose deep understanding of temporal paradoxes was crucial. The precise shrinking of the bodies suggested not only advanced technology but also a mastery of spacetime manipulation far beyond the agency’s known capabilities. Mares had collaborated with Manganes before, equipping travelers for missions into the past. Along with his wife, Giselle, an anthropologist specializing in ancient civilizations, they had often tackled the complex intersections of science and culture. But this was pushing boundaries where risk to life was concerned.

Outside, the storm raged on, battering the windows as if in sync with Mares' own turbulent thoughts. He approached the shrouded bodies, his mind racing with possibilities. Kidnapping? A ghastly experiment? His heart pounded in time with the thunder outside, the electric tension in the air mirroring his inner turmoil.

“Agent Mares.” It was the voice of Robert Bryant, an older colleague, his voice muffled by the wind. “What the hell are we looking at here?”

Mares didn’t respond immediately. He knelt by the first shrouded figure, peeling back the cloth with a steady hand. The victim’s face—or what remained of it—was hollow, featureless. The shrinking wasn’t natural. He had seen terrible things in his line of work, but this? This was something else entirely.

Bryant glanced nervously out the window. “You think the storm’s tied to this?” Mares shook his head, though he wasn’t certain. The wind howled like unseen hands rattling the mansion. Each gust carried a force that felt disturbingly akin to the malevolence in the room. He pulled out his notebook. “What do we know about the victims?”

Bryant flipped through his notes. “All five were reported missing over the last week. Three women, two men. One of the women’s husband—José Manganes—is waiting in the hall.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Mares said, heading toward that area. As he stepped into the hallway, the wind funneled through the gaps in the mansion’s walls, causing the chandeliers to sway ominously. For a Toronto dwelling it was draughty; even the light quavered, flickering or wavering in the hall. When he eventually reached him, Mares found José Manganes sat slumped in a cushioned couch, head in hands, his soaked raincoat dripping onto the floor. He looked up as Mares approached, his face a mix of anguish and fear.

“José. I need to ask you some questions.”

Manganes wiped his face, a mix of raindrops and tears, and nodded. “You...you came before with that camera. I should’ve known…you'd be back. I should’ve rung you or done something.”

"That's not what this is about. I'm here on official business...grim business." Mares led him into a quieter room, though the relentless storm still hammered at the windows. José’s expression was more than grief; it was fear. “Tell me about Giselle's disappearance,” Mares urged, leaning forward to cut through the fog of emotion clouding José’s thoughts.

José swallowed, his hands trembling. “She was fine that morning. We had coffee. Then she got a phone call. She wouldn’t say who it was from, but after she hung up, she looked… shaken. And later, she just vanished.”

“Vanished?” Mares raised an eyebrow.

José nodded, his voice cracking. “I came home from work, and she was gone. Her things were still there, her coat, her bag… everything. I thought maybe she left me, but it didn’t feel right.”

A particularly violent gust of wind rattled the windows, and Mares glanced toward them, unsettled by the storm’s persistence. There was something ominous about the way José spoke.

“What are you talking about, man? She’s among the bodies upstairs. Can you please say something that makes sense, anything at all?”

José hesitated, the flash of lightning outside briefly illuminating the guilt that flickered across his face. His fingers twitched nervously.

“She talked about a pyramid,” José finally said, his voice nearly drowned by the wind. “It was something important for her research. But she never explained what it was.”

Mares leaned in. “What kind of work did she do?”

“She was going to be our main anthropologist. We put her to work on classified government projects. She wasn’t allowed to tell me much, but like the rest of us it involved… time.”

Another gust howled, and Mares felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. He knew Giselle's work intersected with the Canadian Spacetime Agency. Whatever she had uncovered, it was now tangled in this grim mystery.

“And the pyramid—what was its significance?” Mares pressed.

José shook his head. “I don’t know. But she came home with a pyramid, locking it away, until I caught her with it. I could see it was made of Prometheum. Then she vanished.”

Mares paced, his mind working through the puzzle. Giselle’s groundbreaking research, the missing victims, the storm—it all pointed to something dangerous.

“Could Giselle’s disappearance be connected to these murders?” Mares asked, his voice barely rising above the storm’s fury.

José’s face paled. “I don’t know. But if she was involved… it wasn’t by choice.”

Outside, the storm raged on, as though determined to keep the secrets of time buried.

José blinked, his eyes wide with dread, repeating. “I don’t know. But if it was… they didn’t want her. They wanted what she knew.”

“Who wanted what she knew?” Hector Mares frowned, his thoughts racing. A sudden boom of thunder made José flinch, amplifying the tension. Giselle had been deeply involved in time manipulation, and now her husband hinted that she possessed vital knowledge gleaned from that pyramid that interested parties wanted.

“Where did Giselle keep her research?” Mares pressed, feeling the pieces slowly coming together, though the complete picture remained elusive. Outside, the rain battered the house harder, like a relentless interrogation.

José shook his head, defeated, lost for words. “I don’t know." He found his voice, because of much training in description, but weak with fear her spoke: "She was secretive, hid everything. If she left anything behind, it’s probably in her lab. But…” His voice trailed off as a dark realization flickered across his face. “But, I didn’t know her body was here.”

Mares didn’t let it pass. “But you did.”

José's face twisted with anguish. The words spilled out like a confession. “I swear I didn't. She gave me a tiny part of the pyramid she said existed in real life out there in the desert – that wasn’t there before the experiment. That morning—before she disappeared—she handed it to me...that I do know.” His voice hesitated, barely audible over the storm’s howling fury. “She said, ‘Keep this safe. It’s everything. If something happens to me...’ And I didn’t understand. I thought she was just paranoid. I didn’t look at it but I knew what it was.” His trembling hands fumbled in his coat pocket and produced a small, unassuming pyramid, glinting in the dim light.

Mares’ pulse quickened. He snatched the pyramid from José’s shaky grasp, his mind racing. Giselle had known she was in danger and had entrusted her husband with the one thing that might have saved her. But someone had found out. The bizarre shrinking of the bodies, the several victims—it all pointed to something far more terrifying than an ordinary crime.

He turned toward the window, the storm outside surging violently, as if nature itself was trying to stop him from piecing together the truth. He had to uncover what the pyramid really was before it was too late.

As lightning illuminated the wind-whipped trees outside, Mares felt an unsettling sense of urgency. Time, it seemed, was running out for more than just him—it was slipping away for the entire city, caught in the eye of a storm that was far more than a natural disaster.

Back at headquarters, Hector Mares stood by his office window, watching the storm obliterate the skyline. Lightning cracked, revealing the towering city for brief moments before swallowing it in darkness again. It felt like the storm was growing stronger, mirroring the climax of his investigation.

His mind churned over the final parts of the case, trying to make sense of the impossible. He had just left the forensics lab, where they’d completed the analysis of the pyramid José had handed him. It was made of Prometheum. Whatever Giselle and José had been on the verge of discovering, it was more than groundbreaking—it was dangerous. There wasn't enough Prometheum on Earth to make this.

Mares closed his eyes, mentally retracing the steps that led to the victims' deaths. The bizarrely shrunken bodies, the strange circumstances, the whispers of time-travel research—it all pointed to a chilling secret buried deep within their work.

“Mares,” came a familiar voice. Bryant stepped into the room, his face pale, holding a stack of reports. “You were right. The time travel experiments—they weren’t just theoretical. They worked. But there’s something else about the pyramid.”

Mares turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he accepted the documents. The rain beat against the window with relentless force, as thunder boomed like an omen. “What about the pyramid?” he asked, his voice low but commanding.

Bryant, his voice tense, replied, “José didn’t just give us that tiny pyramid because he was scared. He gave it to us because he had no choice. He’s been covering something up, and Giselle—his wife—was right at the center of it.”

Mares’ jaw clenched as the investigation began to lock into place. “Go on.”

Bryant swallowed. “José and Giselle were working on a device capable of manipulating time—moving objects forward or backward in small increments. The pyramid… it was the key. But Giselle found something—something that threatened everything. She wanted to share it with outside contacts. José didn’t trust her anymore.”

Mares leaned forward, his eyes sharp, listening intently. “The last experiment they conducted wasn’t just an accident—it was sabotage. José intentionally wrecked it. He knew that Giselle was on the verge of exposing their research, so he destroyed it and took out everyone who could testify.”

At the Canadian Spacetime Agency, time travel had become the dominant frontier, replacing space exploration. The Canadian Spacetime Agency (CSA) was at the forefront, using temporal shifts not only for research but for geopolitical strategy. Hector Mares, the agency’s armorer, had overseen the missions, equipping travelers and ensuring their safe return. But time travel, with all its potential, held dangerous risks—especially the possibility of paradoxes.

The last experiment focused on a project designed to obtain evidence from 200 BCE Nazca, rumored to have been a period when marks were laid down guiding time travellers. If the mission succeeded, the present era could change unexpectedly.

Unknown to Giselle, José had been facing impossible demands. The project’s backers cared only about geopolitics and saw no value in preserving history. Giselle, however, persisted, digging deeper into the project’s data. Her investigation uncovered encrypted files revealing that José had been coerced to ensure the mission’s success at any cost—even if it meant altering the timeline.

As Giselle approached the truth, José realized she was about to expose the experiment's dangerous flaws. Faced with a all that, he chose sabotage. He wrecked the equipment controlling time, destroyed critical data, and ensured no one could testify against him. The experiment, now a catastrophic failure, left several researchers dead, whilst making the sabotage look like an accident.

In the aftermath, the project was quietly buried by the CSA, but Hector Mares began to suspect foul play. He’d pieced together what had happened, realizing the experiment hadn’t just failed due to technical issues—it had been deliberately sabotaged. José’s actions, driven by fear and ambition, had derailed the entire mission and put the integrity of time travel at risk.

Mares’ pulse quickened. “José sabotaged the experiment to stop her,” he murmured, pacing the room. “He couldn’t trust his own wife.”

Bryant nodded grimly. “Exactly. The shrunken bodies… they weren’t a side effect of the experiment. It was part of José’s plan to erase every trace of their work. The victims—each one had access to Giselle’s research. He was wiping them out.”

The realization hit Mares hard. José had killed not for greed or power, but out of fear—fear of the consequences of their time-manipulating technology.

“We need to bring him in,” Mares said firmly, grabbing his coat. “It’s time to confront the truth.”

The storm reached its peak as Mares and Bryant arrived at José Manganes’ residence. Rain slashed through the trees, and the wind screamed like a living force. Pushing through the downpour toward the front door felt like wading into battle.

When José opened the door, his face was pale, eyes hollow. Mares wasted no time.

“We know, José,” Mares said sharply, his voice cutting through the storm. “You took the pyramid because you couldn’t trust Giselle. And you’ve been trying to cover up what you did to her ever since.”

José’s eyes flickered with regret, but he said nothing.

“You knew what she was planning,” Mares pressed. “She wanted to share your research with outside interests, and instead of stopping her legally, you sabotaged the experiment. You killed her. And you eliminated everyone who could expose what you’d done.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the pounding rain and distant thunder. Bryant stood by the door, alert, but Mares indicated that he now had the matter in hand.

“She trusted you,” Mares continued, stepping closer. “She gave you the pyramid, thinking you’d protect it. But instead, you killed her.”

José’s shoulders sagged, his face contorting in grief. “I didn’t have a choice,” he whispered. “She would’ve ruined everything. Do you know what people would do with that kind of power? They’d destroy the world.”

“And so, you destroyed it first,” Mares replied quietly.

José collapsed into a nearby chair, trembling. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way,” he sobbed. “I loved her.”

“But you killed her,” Mares said, cold and steady. “And the others.”

The weight of the truth crushed José. Bryant finally stepped forward after another look from Mares and led him to the waiting car. Mares remained, staring into the storm. Though the winds had begun to die down, the memory of the chaos lingered, just as the truth they’d uncovered would. Alone, back at headquarters, he reviewed the final evidence. The pyramid had revealed everything—the experiments, the betrayal, José’s desperate attempt to erase their secret. Giselle’s disappearance, the deaths, the shrunken bodies—it all made sense now.

 “José Manganes—brilliant physicist, reduced to this.” He didn’t really know from his association what the man was really capable of, but he would pay probably with a long sentence.

Mares nodded, his voice heavy. “Fear did this to him. He wasn’t trying to gain power. He was terrified of what their discovery would do to the world. And in the end, it destroyed him.”

Bryant glanced at Mares. “You did it, Hector. Even with everything against you, you cracked the case.”

Mares leaned back in his physique-sensing chair, staring out at the cold rain. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But sometimes solving the case doesn’t feel like a win.”

The storm had passed, but its evidence remained, a reminder that there was always another one on the horizon.