This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.
Enjoy...
: : The Past RE-Concluded : :
I think, if given time and hard work, that we can pull this off.
Midgar may be a ghost of it's former self, but we're making due with much less than Shin-Ra had and achieving more than they could imagine. Plans for new neighborhoods and districts are pouring out of my staff's heads, and Junon's engineer corps are making short work of the slums and turning them into proper homes. It's been said more than once that this is the first time that some of the citizens have ever had a room to themselves. I find it funny and disturbing that a worldwide crisis was needed to make it happen. Still, these latest reports from the corps leaders are piquing my interest. Many of them agree that rebuilding the slums is taking too much time, and that building an entirely new city just outside Midgar proper would be cheaper, easier, and faster. Some of my people think it would be a huge symbolic gesture for a new start. They call this plan the 'edge city project' for a lack of better names.
They fail to see that it also would be a symbol of our failure to revive Midgar, and in turn, leave us that corpse of a city to remind us of that failure.
It's a delicate time to wonder about grand gestures such as that. Once this meeting starts, if it turns out that leaving Midgar behind would be better for the people, then so be it. Perhaps an 'edge city' is better than a half-mended one. Perhaps we need this reminder of our sins so we don't repeat them.
-Hart
Runway three, Shin-Ra airship depot, Junon Harbor
The airplane, one of the smallest models that Rude ever saw, rocked a little as it made contact with the runway. The plane taxied uninterrupted across two landing strips, heading for boxy hangars packed with others of it's ilk. The radio issued orders for the pilot, and the man deftly led the craft to the last of the buildings and to an arranged space. The flight finally at an end, the engines spun down and the co-pilot stood and unlocked the passenger door, shoving it outside to the still loud drone of the props. He deferred first exit to the Turk, and Rude took it with a nod of thanks to the men for accepting his silent passage. The air outside was moist and salty, a breeze flowing offshore with the scent of smog and industry from the city. Once he finished tugging his sleeves and pants into place, he saw a few people dressed in suits walking in from a car parked by the hangar doors. He proceeded to meet them, recognizing one of the lesser commanders for the presidential security division. The others, he presumed, where his subordinates.
"Mister Rude!" the commander shouted over the noise. "Welcome to Junon Harbor!"
"Thank you for meeting me, commander."
"Your request was received, but I'm sorry to inform you that your person of interest no longer works for us. He quit as soon as word of the President's death reached us, didn't even bother with formalities." The commander snorted in disgust. "Lots of men abandoned the company just as quickly. Goes to prove loyalty is rare these days."
"Loyalty to a dead man is foolish."
The officer glared at Rude, obviously upset but too afraid to openly insult the Turk for fear of the repercussions. He instead frowned. "Loyalty in and of itself requires no figurehead. People who abandon anything or anyone at the drop of a hat aren't worth my spit."
Silence.
"Well, small talk aside, I cannot do much for you. All we have of the man is his last known address. There are others within my command I would recommend in his place, but I presume a person such as you would prefer your own kind."
Rude didn't let the thinly-veiled insult bother him, but he didn't hold back one of his own. "I'm afraid your men are too loyal to consider working under others."
The commander scowled and turned away, pretending to take a PHS call. He walked away with the same posture, but one of the his men approached Rude and handed him a small piece of office notary. It had a home address, phone number, and a second address somewhere in the commercial district.
"He's seen there frequently. It might help to look there as well," the aide explained.
Rude accepted the paper. "Thank you."
The man followed his superior, leaving Rude to himself. The Turk reached into his jacket and took out his phone, then checked the number he had programmed into it against the one on the paper. They matched, so he knew that the man wasn't really planning to completely disappear from society and start anew. He dialed the number and turned away from the ocean breeze. It rang four times before the other end picked up.
"H'lo?" the person answered.
"It's Rude."
"What's rude?" A pause, but the man chuckled before Rude could correct him. "I know, I know, it's you. What can this reservist do for you today, sir?"
"We need to talk."
"Let's have it, then."
"In person."
"Oh. I see. Proof of absence 'n all, who knows best?" The caller laughed a little to himself. "It's really not that big a deal since Shinra's dead, you know, but I guess old habits never die with you guys."
"Where can we meet?"
"How 'bout the Red Riot. It's next to lift seven on four."
"Fine."
"How soon?"
"Twenty."
"Can do my friend. See you there."
Rude ended the call, then headed to the idling car with the officers. The trip out of the airfield was done in silence, the commanding officer unwilling to speak with the Turk who spurned him. They dropped him off just outside the confines of the military installation, and Rude only needed to wait for a minute before a taxi drove by and was flagged down. That trip was also taken in silence save the tinny din of a radio newscast and the occasional notices from his fellow cabbies. The small car drove towards one of the large, hydraulic powered elevators that rode up and down the various levels of Junon, taking a space inside while others slid in like parking stalls. A klaxon sounded, then the lift jolted and rumbled downwards towards the lower districts. It descended by two streets before the cabbie backed out and headed to the south. The street here was very wide to accommodate the traffic of personal vehicles, but it was still crowded and jammed in congestion. With a talent born of the job the cabbie ducked through traffic while applying liberal uses of his horn and obscene remarks in several languages. Rude soaked it all in with relief; the sounds of a living city.
Once he was near the café Rude tapped the man's shoulder and gestured that this was close enough. He opened the door and paid the fare, then stepped outside and hurried to the sidewalk and the rush of pedestrians. In a force of habit he looked around for anyone who struck him as being out of place, but saw nothing that rang as a danger.
He stood still for a while, adjusting his sunglasses idly. He took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled. Sound, sight, and scent wafted around him, immersing him in a sudden realization of where he was. Men and women in suits, leaving him no longer an eyesore on the streets. Everyone moving with a purpose, everyone clean and well fed. Buildings intact and windows spotless, streets paved and lanes marked. Constant electricity, constant business, constant displays of wealth and grandeur. Junon had always seemed an industrial backwater to him, but now it was a brilliant reminder of the civilization he had been without. A city that was alive! A place where the world hadn't crumbled under the onslaught of the contesting powers between a planet and would-be god. So much different than the reality of Midgar, a corpse still warm after it's death.
He stood in it for a solid minute, letting these things wash through him. It felt as if a hollow inside was finally filled. Eventually, though, he began walking to meet with his first contact.
The Red Riot café was a small establishment tucked into the corner of a glass fronted building, modeled in a post-modern style that was sharp edges and shades of dark and light red. The inside was noisy with the conversations of young people, the hissing and grinding of cookingware and coffeemakers. Rude glanced around and saw the man he wanted at a table in the middle of the room, his back to the door. He frowned lightly, then approached.
"Rude!" the man spoke. He turned around with a friendly grin, proving he wasn't letting his guard down. "Good to see 'ya."
"It's been a while, Gin."
"Sit, sit! I'd like you to meet my wife, Nishelle."
Rude wasn't surprised that the man was already married, he expected as much of him if he wasn't tied down by the twenty-four hour needs of the job. The fact was especially true when he noticed how attractive Nishelle was. She was young and buxom, face open with emotions and expressions. She smiled widely and offered a manicured hand.
"Nice to meet you."
Rude accepted the shake gently, then sat down opposite them on the circular table. "The same."
"So I'm guessing you're here on business, right?" Gin sipped his drink. "Haven't heard a peep 'till now, even with everything that happened."
"I am."
"Don't be disappointed if I don't want a part in it. I've got other priorities to worry about."
Rude nodded knowingly. Gin wasn't truly the sort of person that was capable of being a Turk through and through. He performed his job excellently, but afterwards he would lose himself in misery and guilt over what he had done. Doctors said that he suffered from too much stress, internalized too many problems, and that the killings only exacerbated his moods. It was the reason why he remained a Turk in reserve for the many years he served. However, he reflected, there was no time to search for Turks who had a better reputation. Even with his flaws, the man was still trained to fight and kill, still had his unnerving capacity to weasel into anyone's good graces.
"It's in regards to the series of murders in Midgar," he explained. "You have heard?"
"Yeah."
"After much debate and politics, I have been given the task to hire people to aid in finding this serial killer. Will you help?"
Gin chuckled. "I don't think you have a rambling bone in your body, but I like stories and details. Tell me about this killer. What's so special about him?"
"He is an ex-Soldier, likely a subject of the Jenova project. He's claimed thirteen victims and a possible fourteenth in nearly three weeks. The sector police are unable capture him, so the new mayor, Hart Adagio, has ordered Reeve Tuesti to head an elite unit to hunt the killer down. Thus far only myself, Reno, Elena, and another ex-Soldier named Atma are members. The serial killer stalks the whole of sector three and has yet to be sighted or pinpointed. We need more manpower to succeed, hence my presence."
"Remember this, Nixie, you probably won't hear him say that much ever again," Gin jibed.
Nishelle laughed politely. "I know the stories."
"Will you help?" Rude asked again.
"Give a man some time to think, eh? It's not like I can still leave everything at the drop of a hat!" Gin looked to the bar. "You guys hungry? Let's think this over some food. Nixie, love, would you get me a turkey on rye with spicy mustard? Rude, you want anything?"
"Just coffee."
Nishelle stood to get their meal, but stooped and pecked Gin on the lips before doing so. The man watched his wife as she negotiated the tables and got into the ordering line, a smile on his face. "God, I love that girl."
"Gin," Rude insisted.
"I know, I know." He turned back with a businesslike expression. "You wouldn't know it, but she used to be presidential security for Shinra himself before that Sephiroth took him out. Four years in the service and she never lost that innocence. It's what made her so effective. I know what you're thinking, Rude. If she's that talented, then why don't we both go? The reason is that we gave up killing, swore that we wouldn't take on jobs that meant we had to kill someone because of what they believe in. That's why I'm hesitant."
'Not a surprise,' Rude thought. "We're primarily after the serial killer."
"For now, but what about after? Remember what Shinra had the Turks do? It was going after legitimate threats to the company and the public at first, but we soon became political hitmen to ensure no one rose up against him. What guarantee is there that the same won't happen now? After Shinra it's easy to see how quickly promises and justice fall away when power tempts." Gin grinned. "Just how much restraint does your new boss have?"
"Enough. Midgar will not become what it was, the people and the new government are frightened of such consequences. We have a chance to create a new mindset that is extremely wary of corruption in itself and in others. However, we need to excise the danger from the streets before we can accomplish this."
"Hence, here we are."
Rude nodded.
Gin frowned, shook his head lightly. "It's a tough call. I don't think I'm suited to help start a social revolution. Hell, it's hard enough finding normal work to do."
"I know."
The man looked at Rude with an arched eyebrow. "This is it for you, then?"
"It is."
"And the others?"
"It suffices. We don't have any other viable talents to use."
"Yeah. I suppose any politician needs his secret agents to do the dirty work, and don't deny that eventually you'll be doing those kinda jobs once this killer is caught. It's a natural aspect of government."
"It doesn't mean that it will be as brutal as Shinra's."
"But it could be." Gin lifted a hand. "Ah-ah! Don't say it won't. Remember how easily ideals get corrupted?"
"Then will you help me ensure that we keep the corruption in check?"
He cracked a grin. "Touché."
"What holds you here?"
"Nothing much. Our apartments in Midgar were destroyed, so we made a life of it here. We haven't really settled in, though, I'm sure you know why. Opportunity, then, could be had in Midgar, you think. We could be among familiar faces, among people who understand us, and of course we would be helping to rebuild our hometown. All pleasant and noble pursuits."
"Then?"
"You haven't touched on money, so it means it isn't much. However, I brought it up because it's no worry. Nishelle earned enough for us to live comfortably until the end of our days. Besides, I'm sure that something-"
"Gin."
Gin sighed lightly. "Sorry. I know. Like I said, I have other things to worry about."
"She does not need to come."
"So you'd ask me to leave my wife on her own for an unknown length of time and run the chance of being killed?"
"Yes."
"Honesty...but that's what I like." Gin took another sip of his drink, then tilted the cup back and swallowed the remainder. He wiped his lips, eyes wandering somewhere beyond the confines of the café. "I just can't make up my mind so soon. The Turks were something I wasn't proud to be part of. They don't even exist any more, but that hasn't stopped the need for their like. I don't want to just jump back in without thinking ahead. You understand, don't you?"
Rude nodded.
"Then could you give us some time?"
"I leave at three 'o clock."
"We'll have an answer by then."
"Thank you, Gin." Rude stood up and pulled out his wallet, setting a few crisp bills on the table. He then turned and walked out of the café and into the streets, wondering what to do with the time left to him. There were two other Turks he had to visit, but their apartment's were on the lower tiers. He decided to stop by Gunrunner's and catch up with the bartender and soak up the local news. If he was lucky, he might even run into some other Shin-Ra officers that haunted the place. At the least it would be a chance to indulge in modern luxuries and forget, even for a short time, that the world was any different than the day before Meteor appeared.
City Government Office
"So this is it, huh?" Reno frowned at the mechanical cat and mog.
Reeve nodded from his crouched position, adjusting settings from the mog's exposed torso. Since they no longer had to worry about stealing into the city hall to find records of their allies, it made sense to bring Cait Sith out of storage sooner than later. It would prove interesting to employ the mechanical toysaurus again, so Reeve wanted to ensure that it wouldn't run into problems in action. It was also so he could reacquaint himself with it's controls after so long. With luck they could get out and use the last of the daylight hours to check in with the police and see what progress had been made. The whole department was on staff and looking for the killer, searching for their missing officer. Reeve hoped that they had success in that.
"Yeah."
"It never did look very threatening."
"That was the whole point. He needed to be common looking so Avalanche wouldn't suspect him as being anything other than he was. Cait is combat capable, if that's your concern. Fighting against Shin-Ra and Sephiroth proved that much." He closed the mog's chest, smoothing the white fuzz to hide the fact. He stood and began checking the settings on the cat. "He's even able to use materia."
"All I wanna know is how much use it'll be. No bullshit either, Reeve."
"Didn't Tseng tell you about him?"
"Nope, it was one of those super special secrets projects between him and Heidegger." Reno snorted at a memory. "Hell, we even fought the damn thing a few times! Had no idea you were behind the controls."
The architect sighed. "Look, he's a robot, so that already makes him better than me at fighting. Cait can even run autonomously, so it's just like having another member in the team. Of course I can take over all functions in necessary, but Cait can do most of the work on his own. I want to help, and this is the best way to do that."
"Why do you keep callin' it 'him'?"
Reeve waved the concern off. "It, him, you know what I mean."
"I think that Reno just hates that it's always upbeat," Elena jested.
Reno grimaced. "It's just so corny! I mean, it's a freakin' toysaurus! You know how ridiculous I'd look if I was carryin' on a conversation with you to that?"
Reeve grinned. "Very, I think."
"And fuck you too, dude."
He ignored the remark and continued checking the readouts in his headset. After all was well he stepped back and used his headset to issue a command. "Status of diagnostics."
A beep emitted from Cait's head, followed by a toneless voice in Reeve's ear. 'Diagnostic complete. All functions operating within tolerance levels.'
"Initiate bootup procedure," Reeve commanded.
'Unit powering up.'
Cait suddenly twitched, and slowly drew himself to a proper sitting position on the mog's head. He looked around with pupil-less eyes, taking a moment to seemingly focus on each person in the room. Looking down, he noticed the fuzz of his companion. Once satisfied, he started swatting the stuffed mog on it's head until it began to stir as well.
"Mog! Hey Mog! Wake up, you doofus, c'mon, get going!" Cait shouted in a high pitched voice.
The mog shifted it's bulk, moving it's arms up and down experimentally. It's large eyes opened and it's grin widened.
"Good." Cait looked up at Reeve. "Reeve Tuesti, right?"
"Yes."
"And who's this?"
Atma, who had been standing silently nearby, blinked several times before answering. "Delita Atma, Soldier second class, one hundred and tenth division. You can call me Atma."
"Nice to meet'cha, Atma! Cait Sith's the name!" Cait said, offering his gloved paw. When Atma didn't accept it, he turned his attention to Reno and Elena. "And these two goons are who I think they are?"
Reeve nodded. "Yep."
Cait looked them over again and shook his head. "The big bad Turks. You still aren't so scary lookin' if you ask me."
"Reeve, what's with this thing?" Reno asked flatly.
"He's running on automatic. He strikes up idle conversation to gather data and report it back to me. It was useful when we used him to infiltrate Avalanche, so I didn't need to control him the whole time."
"So..."
"So right now he can act on his own within his programming. He's surprisingly talkative."
"Huh." Reno tilted his head a little. "So how smart is the thing?"
"Smart enough to know when I'm bein' insulted, you jerk!" Cait snapped out.
"What...?"
Cait stood and pointed a gloved finger at him accusingly. "Yeah, you heard right! Dolts like you think you can call me whatever you like. It's an outrage!" He stooped and picked up his tiny crown, setting it with a jut on his head. "Didn't your momma teach you any manners?!"
"Ohoho, this is fucking priceless, Reeve!" Reno snarled. "Now I've got that toy insulting me!"
"I'll remind him, don't worry."
Reno shook his head in agitation.
"Anyhow, what's up, Reeve?" Cait asked. "Why'd you interrupt my beauty sleep?"
"We have a big problem on our hands," Reeve replied. "Your internal clock is synced properly? You remember everything?"
"Yep, it's twelve-fifty PM, February twelfth."
"Good. Currently we've been rebuilding Midgar's eastern sectors, but we're having trouble with a criminal who's killing people for no apparent reason. The sector police haven't had any luck catching him, and neither have we. Mayor Adagio wants us to put together an elite unit to hunt him down and stop him. Since you held up with Avalanche, it's only natural for us to include you in this mission."
"Mayor Adagio? What happened to Domino?"
"He was removed from the position. It's a long story."
"One I'd like to hear, but whatever. Hey, where's my megaphone?" Cait looked around his person and his perch on Mog's head to no avail. However, the mog lifted one large hand and opened it, revealing the small gold colored horn in it's palm. Cait snatched it and patted the mog's head. "Good job, ya' lunkhead."
"So, are you ready to go?"
"You think I got a choice about it? Let's roll!"
"Good." Reeve looked up at the two Turks and nodded. "We should check in with Varik."
"Why bother with him again?" the redhead groused.
"It's not like I want to, but I want to see if there's any news."
The five departed from the storage room and headed towards the back of the building; they would use one of the government's new electric cars to give them a speedy trip to the sector police headquarters. Reeve moved with added zeal, happy that so many obstacles to his job were being demolished in quick order. With the complete backing of the mayor and eventually the police, it would be much easier to deal with the serial killer. He could consider the future without the present tainting his thoughts. It looked so promising! If they could rid themselves of the rogue Soldiers and criminals, then there was no limit to the society that they could usher in. A new city, a new population full of hope, and the strength in leadership to take them as far as they wanted to go. It was like the first time the President talked about the Neo-Midgar project, promising a paradise free of worry and fear. He only hoped that their goals weren't doomed from the start as that dream was.
They knew something was wrong as soon as they entered the lobby.
"I've got a bad feeling," Elena muttered.
Reeve hesitated, wondering what was going on past the partition to the main floor. There was hardly any noise from there, no chatter or loud conversations. A terribly cynical mood lurched into his heart and he knew that officer Piper was dead, but he couldn't believe it. He couldn't just let the world crush his hopes that easily. He steeled himself and took a breath, held it, and exhaled in a huff.
"You guys stay here. I'll see what's going on."
"Why?" Reno asked. "He'd be pissed off either way."
"There's no sense in making it worse. Just wait here, please."
The Turk rolled his eyes. "Alright."
Reeve walked ahead and into the office proper, seeing exactly what his ears heard. Everyone present, a small shift in any case, was busy at their desks and didn't notice him. It seemed more like a commercial office from the Shin-Ra tower than a police precinct. He looked around and didn't see Varik, but his office door was closed and Reeve guessed he was inside. He slowly walked across the floor, eyed the central table and all it's reports of the killer, but was stopped by a look from a female officer before he knocked on the door.
"He's not in," she said.
"Where is he?" he asked her.
"Still on patrol."
"Oh." He wasn't aware that Varik went on patrols since assuming command. Each time he'd been here the chief was somewhere around the office.
A silent moment passed between them, stretching until it was almost uncomfortable, before she spoke up again. "You heard about Piper?"
Reeve shook his head. "No."
"They found his body a few hours ago." She sighed, lowered her head. "Fourteenth one now."
So his cynicism won out after all. He had to swallow a lump from his throat before he could speak. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you."
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
"No."
"Can you-"
"No, I mean, I don't know if he'll come back," she added.
That took him by surprise. "What?"
She looked back up at him. "He's been out for over a day. Since that Soldier he found hasn't broke. I've never seen him that shook up. I think he might not come back until the killer's been captured."
"But what about..." He gestured around. "This? All of you?"
"I don't think he cares. His only concern is that killer. We've had to pick up his slack since this started."
"But how can he-"
"He's never been an officer until now. Always worked the streets," she tapped her desk with two fingers, "not a desk. He might just need some time out there to cool off."
"Okay."
"I'm sorry about that, but what can you do?" she muttered, waving a hand around. "Is it something important you need him for?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. I just wanted to see if he had any new leads, but it can wait."
"You can check out the reports if you want." She gestured at the central table. "We've got a lot of new information in. Might as well look them over before he comes back and flies off the handle at you."
"Is that okay? You won't get in trouble?"
She smiled for the first time. "Not if you don't snitch."
Reeve grinned. "Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it. Better get to it 'less speaking the devil's name brings him here."
"Alright, thanks, miss..."
"Desire."
"Desire. Thanks."
"Sure sure."
Reeve went back to the lobby, collected the others, and returned to the table. They all took seats and grabbed what documents where closest to them, reading and skimming the reports. It was like Desire said, handwritten or typed notes from interviews with the population and the opinions of the officers themselves. One person being mugged at night, thinking it was the killer looking for easy money. Mysterious fires at night someone swore had to be that killer roasting missing neighbors in a bonfire. A ransom note for a missing pet, signed the 'sector three killer'. Muggers; trashcan fires; malicious pranks. Dozens of reports that everyone was convinced was sign of the killer, and all the notes from the officers indicated the more likely truth. Reeve began to get an appreciation for how it was that so little progress was made.
"Hey, here's a odd one." Elena lifted a paper in her hand. "Resident sees adult chasing young man down alley, claims to have heard the pursuer shouting: tag, you're it! Time, five PM on the fourth. Sighting two blocks into sector three from sector two gate. Resident unable to provide any other information. The officer suggests they were either drunk or it was a fight."
"What do you think?" Reno asked her.
"Maybe it was the killer? No, he wouldn't just chase someone down in the middle of the day. We'd see other reports like that if it was the case."
"Well, let's keep going."
Victim eight: unidentified male, late twenties, white, 175cm, 64kg. Burns on torso and shoulders. Broken and materia healed right arm, all fingers of right arm broken and unhealed. Victim nine: unidentified male, early forties, ruddy, 190cm, 87kg. Broken nose and collarbone, sprained ankles, dislocated left shoulder. Burns on feet, chins, calves. All fingers of right arm broken and unhealed. Victim ten: unidentified female, mid-twenties, white, 160cm, 51kg. Broken spine. Burns on torso only. The sterile tone of the reports put them into a strange state of mind, disconnected from the horrors described. Number ten got off easy compared to number nine, as if breaking your back was a ticket for less torture! But you had to divest yourself from the emotional weight of these killings. If you got too involved it would just end badly, a fact that everyone could appreciate.
"Hey now, there's somethin' about these people," Cait spoke up.
"What is it?" Reeve asked.
"Well, if these physical attributes are averaged, there isn't much of a variation between them." He crossed his little arms and tilted his head. "I'd say that they're all in pretty good shape."
"How so?"
"Well, look at 'em! No kids, no old people, no one too fat or too skinny. Just the young an' healthy."
"I agree with Cait's analysis," Atma added. "The first five reports we had suggested this, and the rest of them confirm it. That narrows down potential victims significantly."
"'Cept we need to get this fucker before he gets more victims," Reno insisted.
"Let's keep reading." Reeve reached out and took another thick binder. "Maybe there's more we haven't read."
Victim one located by the Blue Crow bar on queen avenue, eight AM. Victim two located by abandoned apartment, no street names, seven AM. Victim three located by Pallamecia Apartments, chocobo court, ten PM. Victim four located by abandoned storefront, no street name, eight AM. Victim five...
"Hey, check out the map," Reno said to the group.
They all looked up to the large map of sector three that was pinned to one of the corkboards. There were large pins pressed into it with names, probably the locations where the victims were found. More than that, each of those pins had a circle drawn around it in red ink, many of them overlapping one another. One of the roads was also marked out from the edge of the plate to almost sector zero, Shin-Ra's former HQ.
"What is it?" Elena asked.
"These circles," he said, brows furrowed. "Did anyone read anything about what those could mean?"
No one in the group had. He looked at the marked street. "How 'bout Yellow Bird street?"
"Yellow...wait!" Reeve barked, quickly flipping through folders and binders. "I swear that's familiar...hold on...here!" he slammed down a report on one of the killer's victims. "That's the street where Samson was working...the distance from last seen to where the body was found..."
"It's the area where the killer could have been seen!" Atma said aloud, standing in a rush. "Those circles mark what essentially is his territory."
She nearly shoved Reno aside from the map, then picked up the red pen sitting on the lip of the corkboard. She used both hands to find the northern and southernmost tips of those circles, then east and west. "Earlier we only had street intersections to work with, but this is much closer to the truth." She then uncapped the pen and drew a surprisingly accurate circle around all the smaller ones, then stood back. "This is it. We'll find the killer somewhere within this area."
Reno whistled aloud at that. "Damn. Nice work, Soldier girl!"
Atma looked back to Reeve. "I'm going to start investigating the blocks that haven't been encircled. There might be some new info out there we can use."
"Okay," he said even as she left the precinct.
Reno nodded towards the door. "I'm gonna head out, too, Reeve."
"No, I'd prefer it if you stayed and helped out."
The redhead frowned at that. "Helped out with that? I seriously doubt we're gonna find a bigger lead than that in these notes!"
Reeve set his report down and looked at Reno. "It's better than nothing."
"Well it isn't like we have nothing to do! We could go out and patrol these places ourselves like Atma is! Get some real dirt from the locals, not this waste."
"There's only a few of us, Reno, and hundreds of cops!" Elena shot out. "They can look in a lot more places than we can."
"Quit preachin'."
"I'm just-"
"Give it a rest, please, you two?" Reeve begged. "Look, I have no problem reading these myself. If you two want to, you can go out and patrol the sector with Atma."
"Was about to anyway," Reno muttered. "You wanna come with, 'Lena?"
She smirked at him. "Someone's got to keep you in line."
"Oh har har."
"What about me?" Cait asked.
"You stay with me. I'll need a good analytical partner for all this."
"Analytical whatever," Cait sulked. "It's not like I'm just a data-processing machine, y'know."
Reeve bobbed his head and took another report. "I know, but you have a good head on your shoulders."
"I'd hope so!" Cait held his head with exaggerated worry. "Wouldn't want to find out that this one's got a loose screw or somethin'!"
