a/n: oH MY GOSH i didn't realize i was writing this wrong until it was too late but it's an AU so… so July and Snow are OCs. the former is a steel-user who can cover his body with steel or create steel stuff, but he cannot use his creations if they're not directly attached to him. the latter is a mom to a canon character, a slime-hybrid, so I thought it'd be cool to use "they" as their pronouns, but they like to be called "she/her" to people they're close to :) everyone else is canon as far as i know…
agassi: a honorific for like young lady, tbh, i've heard it mostly on creepy terms but that's probably my fault lol
samgak kimbap: basically a triangular riceball look it up i want to eat one so bad
Eternal Nocturne, thank for betaing & reading again and again haha ha
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4. you're only satisfied when you see blood
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"Here!"
Two heroes were minding their own business when they were suddenly shoved back by the Vice Chief of SPOON. This would be a problem if the reason for wasn't to forcefully gift each of them a box of Bacchus. For a moment, they didn't know what to say. But then they didn't have to say anything at all as she fled from the scene, noticeably with a child's wagon squeaking behind her.
Just as she turned a corner with heels blazing, she ran into the last person she wanted to see, who had to point at her and state the obvious, "Dana!"
No, no, no, she couldn't deal with Dune right now, not after when he finally picked up his damn phone and was reasonably concerned as to why she left him thirty-seven missed calls. But then he had to call her back when murder was on her mind, and she just had to say exactly that so he said, "Murder who?" Which Dana was never, ever considering admitting to him that that damned drug-obsessed lowlife duped her with his inexplicable escape, but she was pissed to the point that she thoughtlessly ranted with a forgotten audience.
Consequently, for the past two weeks or so, she was doing a B+ job avoiding him until he stepped up his attempts to confront her.
As if handling a terrible two's tantrum, Dune gripped her arm, breaking her state of mind—more murder—, and hauled her over to a quieter hallway. Once he released her, Dune crossed his arms before saying, "I've been relocated."
Not how she expected their best-friends-together conversation would start off. Really, she expected a lack of talking-to for some time, or until blue boy was rightfully rotting behind bars. Her jaw tight, she crossed her arms as well. "What?"
"Hear me out, Dana." Pausing, he raked back his wavy bangs. "Claude and I, we dropped Hyena off that day and we had an appointment right after… I didn't know we were being reassigned. Apparently, it's a step-up from being an average SPOON hero… They've been watching me and Claude for a while, and just made the decision to ask us to join."
"Join what?" asked Dana, edging away.
"POT. It's a more secretive group of heroes, but we're associated with SPOON. There's a lot to it that I can't explain to you so… after Claude and I heard them out, we had to take some time to think about their offer. That's why we couldn't take your calls."
"Okay."
"We decided to join, by the way. That's why I haven't been here at SPOON as often."
"Huh." Cocking her head, Dana rolled her stare to the side. It wasn't like she expected him to consult with her since he was a grown man and all. But their pre-SPOON crime-fighting history didn't feel as much when he made that decision. Stoic, she muttered, "That's cool, I guess."
A step closer, Dune blurted, "Look, Dana, I'm sorry."
"Wait." Had he read her mind already? Wonder upturned her lips. "What?"
"You needed my help during a time I couldn't be there for you." His fingers tapped against the inside of his elbow, a tick that Dana noticed. "I know that you've been undergoing, let's say, stress ever since the exposure to the Oz, and so you wanted to arrest him badly but… I could have certainly helped you do that."
Maybe she was disappointed that his response wasn't what was on her mind, but since he was carrying out his daily deed of being a 'friend,' Dana crossed hers off as well. She reached into the wagon and tossed him a Bacchus, which he caught smoothly. A drink against her chin, she mumbled, "Not your fault."
"Then do you forgive me, Dana?"
A corner of her mouth tilted upward. "Sure."
Suddenly, his drink clattered to the floor, and Dune was all up in her personal space as he shook her shoulders, although he had the nerve to lecture her, "Dana, what the hell were you thinking, just, just bringing a villain into your home as if it wasn't complicated enough to separate our work lives from our personal! You had to reveal to him where you eat, sleep, and even leave your classified information from SPOON right on your desk—"
"Hey—!"
It took a moment, but Dana was able to elbow him in the throat. He hacked, but surprisingly, one iron grip was relentless upon her arm. A scowl darkening her expression, she argued, "I didn't think that he'd get away! He was dying and then he wasn't!"
His hand loosened off her. "Dana…"
"I wouldn't have let him if I knew this was going to happen."
"Dana," he started again, watching her as she uncapped her bottle and drank in one-shot. "Dana, you know you have to let him go in a precarious situation like that."
"No way," she snarled.
Sharper, he asserted, "Dana, if the Chief knew what you…"
They were both very quiet as slow as they could, they turned to a not-so-secretive newcomer standing too close, way too close. A man with a head of blue curls—not that particular shade of blue that would return maximum murder to mind—and donned in a lavish suit sipped at his wineglass as he stared at Dune and Dana.
"How much have you heard?" Dune demanded lowly.
"Oh, please don't mind me. I just thought it was terribly odd how the two of you were speaking in such low voices, and at such close quarters when I believed you had a kept woman elsewhere—"
His tone even, but firm, he interjected, "A man, but irrelevant."
"Dune, I hadn't asked. But, as I was saying, I thought to myself, why, something must be up and then just in luck, you had mentioned the Chief." Melodramatically, the uninvited dropped his glass, shattering it into crystalline pieces, and swished his fingers. "You must go on! If Chief knew about what?"
Granted, he wasn't blue boy, but he was a man-boy to Dana with stupid blue hair and she damn well wanted to kick his ass. Teeth gritted, she smiled. "Would you mind giving us some space, July-sunbae?"
A sardonic smile playing along his lips, he drawled, "I do mind, Dana-agassi."
Honestly, Dune was here so Dana was truly trying to have a civil talk with one of the worst losers SPOON had to employ, but he had to go there, therefore it was only right if she kept up to his pace.
Nudging Dune aside, she responded, "I prefer that you call me by my title while we're working, July."
"Dana!"
Dumping fuel to the fire, July taunted, "That title wasn't yours to begin with."
"You're still on that?!" Dana retorted.
A vein pulsing in his neck, July stepped forward and fumed, "Chief had eyes on me back when he had good eyes, and then all this rubbish reasoning about pity-hiring lady heroes clouded his mind that he began to consider you."
"Fuck off."
Ignoring her succinct suggestion, July pushed farther. "The only reason you were capable of raising a bit of hell was because of your un-ladylike power. Which, you must know belongs to a gentleman." This was not good, oh no, Dune knew as he yanked her back, yet she stood her ground. "Dana, dear, you know I'm right when you're weak as shit when your temper blows." Accompanied with a smug smirk, he pointed out, "Now would be a good example?"
The last line resounded with Dana, who listened to Dune's worried whispering, before she rolled her head back and scoffed. "I don't have time for your shit."
Hearing that, Dune heaved a sigh of relief. He tugged her away from July, which was working when she swiveled on her heel and strode off. This was going best-case scenario until Dune remembered July was the worst instigator in the world when he cupped his hands and roared, "Fight me!"
He had her at 'fight.' Once Dana turned around, Dune sighed again, but from the opposite of relief. "What did you say?"
"A physical altercation resulting in a clear winner! The rational method the Chief should have chosen his Vice Chief! Why did we not exchange blows from the start?" Under his breath, July snickered, "We can all take a guess at the real winner."
"Dana, don't you think you'realready treading thin ice?"
"I got this." She shushed Dune with the rise of her arm. "I'm not going to fall for your misogynist—"
"Fall for me?" challenged July, hands on his hips. "Or must you be a bit—"
Though July probably heard his fair warnings of calling the Vice Chief the b-bomb, he couldn't register how that black blur was her fist heading for his face. Just before he could feel his nose break, July realized his maintained its ideal ski-slope shape.
"Dana!" She blinked, trying to understand why Dune smeared blood from his nose. "Not here, not now! You know that!"
"God, Dune, I'm sorry? You're right about that—not here…"
"Then let's go!" he ordered, trying to shove her away, but it was of no use.
Not even five minutes later, Dune was groaning on the sidelines of SPOON's training arena. Legs dangling over the side, he sat in the Bacchus wagon with Dana's jacket over his arm. Beside him, a crowd of fangirls squealed for the Vice Chief. She'd unbuttoned her dress shirt, which was fine since she had an undershirt, and was rolling up her shirt sleeves. A sort of excitable energy surrounded her, and Dune couldn't pry her from the match unless he yelled,
"Dana, weren't you assigned a mission today?"
"No!"
Impossible since the Vice Chief was a busy hero. Either she didn't know, or she did know and she just didn't care. Whatever reason, it didn't matter since Dana did like to do things her own way. She wasn't the only one when that could be said for her opponent as well, but Dune tried anyway.
"July-sunbae, weren't you assigned a mission today?"
"Oh, yes," he yelled, brushing dust from his suit sleeves. "I suppose I'll leave those orphaned kids to barbecue."
Disgusted disbelief crossed everyone's expression, until July cleared up, "I wasn't serious!"
"Horrible, horrible, absolutely horrible," the groupie gossiped to each other, and Dune found himself nodding along. Groaning again, he reached for his box of cigarettes. "How can you joke about children dying when you're a hero?"
"You can if you're July-sunbae," Dune muttered, blowing smoke, just as July and Dana were hand-to-hand.
Although the both of them were adequate with long-range, their forte was close combat. Dana went for quick jabs at his neck and backside, and was sure to keep her head leveled as she went over July's abilities. As she ducked from a petty snatch for her hair, she was wondering whether he would use his superpower just as his fist gleamed silver.
With an actual reason, the Chief had been eying July for Vice Chief when he could show his use for power plus skill. The skill wasn't apparent when Dana knew he would go for a steel-coated punch, and was able to counter-attack another. Just a bit of a change-up, he went for a kick of steel. His silver leg grazed a millimeter beside hers. But then July timed until his foot, while did miss, was close enough that a silver spike shot from his ankle. It didn't hit Dana, rather extended between her calves, and with a swipe of his leg, she lost her balance and went down.
"Ha!" July bellowed, watching her hand hit the ground, until he realized she chose hand-first so she'd flip back onto her feet.
Undeterred coolness radiated from Dana's solid stance, but her calf throbbed. Momentarily, she was pissed such an elementary move worked against her. Now she was resisting to check if she bruised. There wasn't time for such anyway when July didn't wait for her pause, rushing forward to deliver a standard steely punch. When she dodged, that only proved she'd let her guard down as she leaned instinctively toward her calf. Her head was out of vicinity for his go-to uppercuts, but a rod of steel extended between his wrists.
In return, her leg shot out and, with careful timing, July immobilized her foot between the rod and his body. Sweat dotted her temple when it was necessary now to rely on her other leg to stand. In a bit of pain, she only needed one moment before she bent her trapped leg, causing July to trip towards her, with her fist flying for his nose.
Unfortunately, she forgot about breaking that stupid rod; just before her fist connected, July slammed the rod toward her as well. The Vice Chief despised the steel-user for a number of reasons, but number one was for his sneaky need to inflict as much pain as possible. In the span of a moment, the cylindrical rod had malformed into ragged edges and successfully scraped against her temple.
Blood poured from both sides; July running a hand from his nosebleed, Dana not even acknowledging the bloody trail from her hairline, dripping down her jaw. The animosity was mutual as they collided into round two, however, the intensity had elevated to a point the onlookers suspected to be out-of-bounds.
Burning with need for victory, July was able to endure a kick to his gut, grinning even, when he shot out a steel hand against her throat. Instinctively, her fingers grabbled with his heavy hold, but he shoved her down. Something was off as Dana threw her arm back, and it stayed behind. Too soon to realize, she squinted to see steel string slithering from his legs that was sewing her to the floor where her entire arm was bound.
Drops of scarlet squeezed onto her sleeves as soon as Dana moved a muscle. Stinging pain was one thing, but to see a man with coincidentally maddening blue hair was another that had her strength dwindling. Pride taking over, she fought against threatening threads that carved into her skin, into her veins, forcing blood from her flesh. Losing blood was a problem when she already knew she lost. Since the outcome was this, she was just about to accept defeat as July boasted, "—honestly no other outcome! Now you know what to expect the next time we'll meet again, Dana-agassi?"
The words before were white noise. What she heard was, "—we'll meet again, Dana—ssi?"
Something snapped within Dana, which sounded like strings twanging apart.
The last time she had a good ol' punch-to-the-death was back when she was a high school hell-raiser. Just like old times, she reawakened the pure hostility of beating the fucking shit outta someone unless her rage ran out. But to some, hers was a well that never ran dry. As somebody who knew Dana well, Dune wrenched July to safety as the groupie girls crowded Dana, cried for her to calm down.
It was unclear who was the real winner now that July held his mottled, swelling face and that Dana ignored the varied cuts across her arms and legs. Unchanged, their antagonistic attitudes toward one another were as they clenched their fists just in case.
"What in the world?" Suddenly, July and Dana hid their hands from the shouting newcomer. "What's happened here?"
At first, Dune forwarded the Chief and was about to fill him in, until Chief articulated, "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else?"
Then his scrutinizing stare found July and he speed-walked before him. "Hey, hey, hey!" Annoyed, the Chief tapped a rolled-up newspaper against his blue-purplish cheek. July grimaced. "I was looking for you! You just got a mission!"
"Chief, I am busy!" he dared to speak back.
"July, you gotta save a burning orphanage."
"For fuck's sake—"
With that, July left the arena with no trace other than his blood drying on Dana's knuckles. That was the last thing the Chief needed to know so she grabbed her jacket from Dune and hurriedly slipped into the sleeves. Still, he had to talk to her with disappointment etching into every stress line in his face.
"Vice Chief," he said, not blind to the results of her latest fight upon her. "You're lucky you're on paperwork duty, but I didn't know paperwork meant picking petty fights?"
There wasn't a correct answer for that. Stalling for time, she brushed a hand against her still bleeding temple. Ouch. "I was busy too." Her gaze shifted to the half-empty wagon of Bacchus, which she kicked behind her. "I ran into Dune and July-sunbae, then maybe things got a little out of hand."
"Maybe? A little?"
She lied, "I was going to paperwork right after, Chief."
"Can we have a minute alone?" Without turning around, he'd commanded Dune and everyone else out of the arena, leaving Chief and Vice Chief. "Listen to me, Dana, you're a good hero, but for the past month or so, you're not good." Her mouth parted, but he raised a hand to shut her up. "I thought I could fix your unreasonable need to fight more and more, your ditching of particular missions, your unbelievable and uncontrollable aggression, your random inattention—Vice Chief."
Some semblance of blue boy was lurking by the double doors. But Dana may have been imagining it as her gaze lazily returned to the Chief. "What?"
"See, this is the shit I'm talking about," he fumed.
"So?"
"I'm at a standstill, I see." A hand over his mouth, the Chief sighed into his palm and muttered, "I'm allowing you back on the case."
"…What?"
Grumbling almost, he explained, "I said take a break from work and your behavior worsened. So I thought about it. If taking a break doesn't work, then that must mean if you've returned onto work, your heroic morale will improve, correct?"
Dana bit back an explosive laugh of satisfaction. "Correct, Chief."
"You should hope you are correct." He sighed, and reached into his suit jacket. The subtle traces of paranoia vanished from Dana's expression when he handed her a manila folder, but he stopped her from opening it. "I'm giving you two weeks, Vice Chief, to close this. Give that to the filing department and they'll set you up with what information we have. You must work with what you got. I'll let you start tomorrow—"
"Today!"
His tone deepened significantly as he repeated, "Tomorrow, you may start, but today—" Stress lines marred his forehead as he leaned closer to Dana, giving her a onceover of her battle-battered self. "Today, you will head to the infirmary, and right after, the only work you will be doing is paper, Vice Chief. You're aware of what paperwork is?"
Perhaps it was a good idea to do what he said.
Half genuine, half forced, she smiled and conceded, "You won't be seeing me in any more petty fights, Chief."
.
At 9:07 in the morning, SPOON's filing department was enjoying a run-of-the-mill, quiet morning, save for the rustling of tons and tons of paper. Some were preoccupied with typing, sipping office-brewed coffee, even slacking off with low chit-chatting, but they all looked up to catch the Vice Chief of SPOON screeching to a stop before the receptionist's desk.
"Uhh…" He had to wait for her to catch her breath, before he greeted, "How can I help you?"
With a dramatized thwomp, a light folder was dropped upon the counter. "I need—I-I need infor-fff-for-mation!"
Again, he stalled, "Uhhh…" A moment passed before he slid the folder to his side, noting the number of repeated creases, and scanned the contents at once. Brow creased, he closed it and turned around to call, "Snow-sunbae! Sunbae!" It took another moment before a dainty figure in speckled white stood quickly, their mouth preoccupied with a samgak kimbap. Waving their hand, they disappeared into the back most further cabinets, to which the receptionist only said, "Just follow Snow-sunbae, and you're good to go."
The file in hand, Dana waved it in gratitude and moved as he had instructed. The cabinets were only a diversion when it really buried a ceiling-to-floor wired gate. Against the door, Snow the slime-hybrid secretary was finishing her breakfast with a cheeky smile toward Dana.
"Dana-ya!" they greeted chummily, reaching for a cozy hug. Dana obliged. "How are you? Have you had breakfast? You look as full as energy as always."
As they unlocked the door, Dana returned conversation, "I'm alright, I guess, and I've hadn't eaten, but I'm alright, thanks. I take it you're good? How's Raine doing?"
"No, that won't do! Eat this for me?" Somehow, another samgak kimbap manifested into Dana's hand and they closed her fingers over it. Shrugging, she ate as Snow chatted, "Raine and I, we're well, very well, in fact! She really wants to follow her mother's footsteps, but I'm just a teensy concerned that she'd rather go out in the field, you know, saving people." After locking the door after them, Snow pulled Dana into a lightless room. The space felt endless which proved to be right after the light turned on. There was way more cabinets, just taller, wider, more everywhere. "I shouldn't be worried when you're in charge, shouldn't I?" Polite, Dana nodded and tapped her fingers against the folder. "Oh, that's right, you're here for a case! Let me see!"
A humming variation of a pop song strewn from Snow's lips while they flipped through the folder's papers and tilted their head quizzically. That could be a sign of not-good, so Dana neared them to check, "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, one little thing… This might take several days however…"
"What?"
Their mouth curved a millimeter. "What you've basically given me are your mission reports. Which would be easy if I quick searched the online database, but some of this—" Shaking their head, Snow pointed to a description box of the perpetrators, their index finger following the line of "young man with light blue eyes, white hair, white wings at base of back, dressed in lab coat, "—like this fellow here… That's a bit more complicated character to read into, dear."
Dana frowned, then rubbed her neck. "Why?"
"There can be lots of reasons as to why it's closed-off to most heroes, but I may find an exception for the Vice Chief."
With that, they winked, plucked a pen from their bun, and started writing upon the folder's front. Short words littered the page such as "the Oz, drug-related cases, white twins, villain #360" or as far as Dana could tell when she read over Snow's shoulder. She was about to ask about victim #360 perhaps being blue boy just as her phone bleeped.
"Sorry," she whispered, and checked the notification.
Unsurprisingly, Dune had some business with her, having sent: Heard Chief allowed it. Where are you?
Dana had to glance back at Snow, who was busy re-reading, and replied: At filing. Help me?
I'm finishing up at POT. I'll be there soon.
Hey, Dana! I heard Chief let you back on the case, which I thought was crazy since you were… you know. Not that crazy lol. This couldn't be Dune, which wasn't, but she could take a stab the text was more like Jelina's style, which it was. Sangjae and I got a few hours to kill before our next assignment. What are you doing? Is it The Case?
"Dana?" As if scolded suddenly, the Vice Chief jerked to see Snow done already. "Do you remember how to operate the filing system?"
"…Should I?"
Honestly, Snow was expecting that as they handed the folder back to Dana. "What I've written down are key words. You should use them in our online database. They'll connect you to other reports, articles, character profiles, etc. etc. which most of will be in paper. Hence, all these cabinets." A pleasant chuckle reverberated within the metal expanse, but the echoes gave Dana the chills. "The information is categorized by number so when you find a particular file you want, find its filing number, and that's all you need to know."
Since they were as helpful as always, Dana offered a small smile. "Thanks, Snow-sunbaenim. I just, uh, have one question." If it were possible, bubbly blossoms would be floating around Snow's sociable expression when Dana questioned, "Are other heroes allowed to come in?"
Snow's answer had been yes and more as the slime mother-figure hovered from Sangjae to Jelina to Dana, serving them cups of coffee and advising them to take breaks. It hadn't even been an hour when Dune finally arrived with Claude right at his heel.
"What took you so long?!" she yelled from somewhere.
After Snow let him in, Dune scratched his wind-tussled hair as he peeked from cabinet to cabinet, until he heard Sangjae's cool voice, "The third aisle to the left of the entrance."
He was a lot more helpful than Dana when the deer-human's statement brought Dune and Claude to three figures sitting at a table. Or by table, it was four relatively low cabinets shoved together and the tops were littered with piles and piles of paper and coffee mugs. Sangjae and Jelina were whispering together as their stares focused on a single file while the Vice Chief glared at hers with her palms flat against the surface.
"Nothing much?" sighed Dune, sliding off his jacket.
Not even acknowledging them with a look, Dana barked, "Shut up."
He and Claude took a seat next to the others instead who passed down mugs of Snow's prepared coffee. Since the Vice Chief was in her own world, Claude leaned in and asked, "So what's happening here?"
"Snow-sunbae told the Vice Chief we wouldn't find much," filled in Sangjae, now opening a new file and scanning through the first page. "They were right so far."
Curiosity pushed Dune to finger through an open file beside him, his stare reading through carefully of 'party goers were recorded for exhibiting symptoms similar to Lysergic acid diethylamide' … 'unable to find consumption evidence in the forms of either pills, capsules, or liquid' … 'primary objective is added; to acquire for signs of an advanced dangerous substance.'
It was normal to bust in on parties for a number of reasons, but Dune found it strange how a drug-related mission was added after the bust-in. Normally, drugs wouldn't be a big deal since they were everywhere at villain parties. In this case, an unknown could have a disastrous effect.
With an intentional nod, Dune's glasses fell before his eyes and, leaning against Claude, he picked up a file under his thigh. He didn't read half-way through before throwing it onto a pile, then scanned through a random report. Again, the events were along the same lines, and this read-retain-repeat continued for another hour.
After his eighteenth file, Dune blurted toward Dana, "How many more are there on abuse of the Oz?" No answer, so he knocked a pile of papers in her direction. Nothing, still. "Dana, are they even close to finding what form the Oz takes?"
At this point, she'd turned away so her profile sent him a threatening glower. Reading her mood, Jelina clarified for him, "It does have a liquid form, but it's possible it can be airborne too. There's no evidence for that though, well, it's hard to find airborne drugs anyway. All these symptoms from the party-people though, I'm a little scared now that I know—"
"You were supposed to know this," criticized the Vice Chief.
"—now I know there's a bunch of symptoms the Oz can copy, and I was like exposed to that stuff. Nasty." A beat later, too soon for anyone to form a response, a pager beeped from Sangjae's hip. They both dropped their jaws, gasping, before coming to a stand. "Oh no!" shrieked Jelina, tugging Sangjae's arm. "We're gonna be late for the mission! Hey, Dana, text us and we'll—"
"Actually, Jelina, I got—"
"Sangjae! And I will come buy tomorrow if you still need the extra help?"
Unmoved, she didn't spare a goodbye look. "Yeah, thanks, sunbae."
The deer-human was the first to leave, but just before Jelina did, she looked back from Dune to Claude to Dana, all immersed with their reading. "Hey," she interrupted, and their stares lazily lifted to her. "Maybe day two will be better?"
.
Day two was useless.
As were day three and four, but day five was searching the last of Snow's recommended key words and the day they received permission for the Vice Chief to access the confidential cabinets. By the end of day five, Dana would think she would obtain everything about blue boy plus his white-winged henchmen, and the location for their next hit spot or whatever. Unfortunately, she was thinking best-case scenario which wasn't her current condition.
"Status update," she groaned, smacking a whiteboard with her the back of her hand. The pads of her fingers were callused from reading, something she never thought was possible. "So… Dune, the Oz?"
Lowering his fifth cup of coffee, he sputtered and said, "The Oz is an addictive drug of unknown forms, one of which we have confirmed it can be consumed as liquid with a green syringe, although the color appears to be unrelated, however, there is a theory that its original form is airborne." Squinting with bloodshot eyes, Dune lowered his glasses to recite better, "What's terrifying SPOON is the range of symptoms the Oz can invoke to a T of other dangerous drugs, and the fact that the Oz producers are making billions as we speak for an unheard substance. I'm assuming their main income specializes from the Oz-fueled, illegal parties, although there are a few cases where individual users have been abusing it with the syringes."
"Uh-huh. Where's the Oz coming from, Claude?"
"Ho-hold on." His beanie was wrinkled from many impromptu napping, so after smoothing it over his hair, Claude faced the group and contributed, "So like the Oz, right? It's coming from h not safe, that's for sure." Everyone erupted with dissatisfied disgruntles, but he laughed them off. "That night we bust in and messed up Dana forever—" She pointedly glared, but a smile quirked up for Claude, "—might've been a production unit because there's like no other missions on record for sending heroes to the Oz. So, for all we know, that blue dude and the white dudes have already selected an improved warehouse to make new Oz."
"Right. Sangjae, the white dudes?"
Since almost everyone was thinking Oh yeah who are the white dudes? the mind reader's part was probably of some significance. As if this was a professional setting, he stood up and read from his writings, "I don't have much, but here we go. Um." Encouragingly, his partner bumped her pink-purplish head against his arm. "They're not human. They've been involved with some pretty higher-level villains' work from years ago, but photographs show their appearances remained unchanged. Adding onto the higher-level villains' work, the two of them have some ties to the newbie, but still terrible, villain group called KNIFE."
"That's stupid," Jelina said just as Sangjae read Claude's But we're called SPOON.
Ignoring the comment, Dana had been writing upon the whiteboard, and swiveled around to question, "What is KNIFE?"
"I actually haven't found much, except their leader is called Baek Morae… He most likely started KNIFE from a laboratory genocide, which one of the white twins was working at. That incident is too high-classified for my average hero's eyes, but we have reason to believe the twin had escaped with Baek Morae and a few unidentified survivors."
"That's good, that's good," remarked Dana as she cocked her head at her noted map. At the center were two words in capitalized letters and even block letters for everyone to see. "Jelina?"
"Blue boy!" she cheered, stepping a kitten heel onto the cabinet-table. "He's clearly a drug lord over his evil empire of this new-age addictive drug called the Oz! Blue boy has got some amazing cover-ups for his tracks, because for the tons and tons of illegal festivities thrown with the usage of the Oz, almost all customers who dealt with the Oz don't remember doing that! But for a very few, they point fingers at the white twins, who have to be cover-ups for blue boy!" Energized by hatred, Dana smacked the board hard enough it flipped thrice upon its stand. "Whoa, Dana. Anyway, he's never seen at the parties by the majority of party-goers, but he's blue so shouldn't he be really easy to spot?"
"Can't be sure about that. But good, good work, everyone. Now what does all of this mean?"
Moments passed as the group stared at the scribbled board with Dana's back blocking most of it. Arms crossed, she was also staring and, thinking of the next big step, she was not the only one coming up with infuriatingly, absolutely nothing.
After another five minutes, Claude commented, "We're fucked."
"No! That can't be! No! We're! Not!" With each word, she banged her fist against her forehead, but that hardly changed the state of their situation, much less the reality of Claude's two words of painful truth. "Aaaarrrggh!" At once, her coworkers shifted to friends-mode as they offered intermingling phrases of reassurance, but that was not what Dana needed. "No, shut up, please, ugh, just—just go home, guys."
"Vice Chief, that's not—"
"Hey, Dana, I didn't mean—"
"Dana! You gotta keep your—"
"Dana…"
Honestly, ll these voices belonged to people whose time, energy, and brain cells she lost because she failed to connect any of their information into continuing onto Step Two. It was only best that she discontinued them from losing whatever else she could suck from them.
Jacket on, she waved a hand back in goodbye, before exiting the wired gate. At their desk, Snow spotted Dana and called, "Dana-ya!"
To them as well, her hand raised, lowered, and she was on her way.
Exposing blue boy was probably the only incentive for her week to progress, but now even that seemed near impossible due to his invisible tracks. It didn't matter; the Vice Chief didn't care that much anyway. Or that was what she'd reply to people once word got around that the case was as cold as she was.
Once she made upon home's doorstep, she undid her tie and her shoes, the former thrown onto her coach. Almost mindlessly, she trudged to her fridge where the top two shelves were stocked with Bacchus. What drove insane for the past two weeks was how she'd down the very last bottle, but only to find the shelves restocked the next morning. Still, it was free drinks so she swiped two from the fridge and headed to her bedroom.
Although sleep would be great right about now, she knew a shower was in order.
After knocking her head against the wall tiles for twenty minutes that moved like five, Dana scrubbed a short towel through her dripping hair with one hand, and drank the Bacchus with the other. The first drink took a minute, but the second disappeared in one-shot.
Just as the glass opening left her lips, she exited her bedroom and at once narrowed her eyes. Slowly, Dana turned to coolly confirm if she wasn't alone.
Her guest was someone she spent a lot of her and others' time searching for, and for him to appear like magic on her sofa pissed her the fuck off. But then something was off, just like the last time he was here. At a closer look, Dana realized blue boy gripped his bleeding side, the lower half with all the intestines maybe, and a handle of a dagger peeked from his left shoulder.
Although a proper greeting wouldn't suffice, he parted his lips to say, "Help me."
—
