I totally had some one demanding some Cho, so of course I must oblige :)
It was my plan though, truly.
ADJUST
She woke suddenly.
It wasn't an unusual occurrence, not after so long hiding in the shadows and waiting for watchers, criminals and vandals. They often lived in the most dangerous parts of cities, and they were The Inscrutable and Sylph... it's not like they were supposed to be living it up in mansions and clean apartments with pretty windows overlooking parks or the ocean.
There were no twinkling lights and happy memories for them. Not as their 'public' personas anyway. It was their private personas that kept them sane, if either one of them could be called sane anymore. They'd been through too much, seen too much, done too much.
The Inscrutable even before the incident had always been slightly off-kilter, at least that's the way he described himself pre-LRJ. She herself would never have thought to circumvent conventional legalities in the many ways she had since teaming up with The Inscrutable. After the incident, The Inscrutable had compelled himself to follow his violently designed vendetta unflinchingly. Without remorse or second thought. A lot of his earlier work was sloppy, brilliant of course, but without purpose, side purpose that is. He often got what he wanted out of the action but the people who he interacted with were left behind without a second glance. Sylph had changed that. Even during their first cooperation she had refused to allow him the opportunities to throw people aside like indifferent animals or second-hand stuffed toys – useless to the purchaser, used memories and affections having no affect on The Inscrutable.
He was off-kilter. It was fact. After seeing what he had, experiencing and then following Le Rouge Jacques' trail across the country, no one could be unmoved; especially since they usually got to the scene of crime before law enforcement. They got to see the un-sanitized version. Le Rouge Jacques' allies would flow in, sanitize the area and the bodies and then they would allow the 'real' police and forensic scientists to approach the scene. It meant that the official documentation of the crimes were never complete, never truly closed and that meant that whole slews of victims went unheard and vindication was not an option for them.
The Inscrutable and Sylph tried to bring these factors to light. It had been one of their primary goals in the beginning, but Le Rouge Jacques reach was too pervasive. His hands, his eyes and ears and his bloodied twitching fingers were in too many pies, too many rooms, too many precincts. They could never get reality out in the open.
It was a desolate attempt.
It had been The Inscrutable who finally realized the futility of their actions. It had been time for a change in approach. They would have to move further out into the social consciousness. They decided to allow their alter egos the opportunity to move about more easily (without restriction), to find information in all of its homes and to force the police's hand, even if that meant doing so under the guise of criminals and law breakers.
Sylph was the more idealistic of the two. Even after experiencing (stumbling into) firsthand knowledge of Le Rouge Jacques baser predilections, she still believed that humanity was inherently drawn to being good. Or at least, not inclined to hurt others purposefully. Hers was an existence of daily ethical dilemmas; Le Rouge Jacques sorely tested her fortitude. She still clung to the idea of a greater good. Sometimes reputations had to be sacrificed in order to maintain or achieve that goal.
Sylph likened it to undercover operatives, those select few who broke laws in order to bring down larger criminal individuals or groups. They had been sanctioned by their governments to break minor laws to keep their cover in the pursuit of a greater cause, convicting a law breaker who destroyed lives. Only in their case, they weren't sanctioned, because as they found out the government was the one protecting Le Rouge Jacques. People had to prove themselves to The Inscrutable and Sylph; there were no second chances if they trusted the wrong person.
After a few cognizant moments, Sylph felt the strain of her shoulders, and the tight, uncomfortable pull on her elbows and wrists. She was sitting on the floor, hard – probably cement – backed up to a pole. It was cylindrical if the smooth, strange expanse at her back could be trusted. Her arms were wound around the pole, backwards. Thankfully, her mask and leathered costume was still in place.
Whoever had her hadn't tried to unmask her yet. But they would, it was too much of a pull, a curiosity. And if humanity was only one thing, it was curious.
She tested the bonds on her wrists.
A clinking sound chimed in the expanse of the room. It was too dark for her to see anything in particular; probably the choice of her holder.
Resting her hands on the floor behind her back and around the pole, she tried to remember how she had come to be in this position.
She remembered running. Down a street, in the city. The park.
She sighed and dropped her head.
Rigsby and Van Pelt's slight error, but it had had a doozey of a consequence. She'd had to knock them out and lead the non-friendly and overweight fourth cop on a race through the back streets. Trusting that Jones and Tyler would take care of Cho and The Inscrutable as well as keeping the third non-friendly cop busy enough with Rigsby and Van Pelt so as to not notice the two men (one dead and one criminal) hiding in the bushes.
She'd been running, not too fast, she wanted to keep the fourth cop's attention for a little while at least. She'd looked behind her to make sure he wasn't lagging too far behind. She needed to give Jones and Tyler some extra time, and who knew how The Inscrutable was faring having to hide, he hated that. A prickle at her neck informed her that someone was watching her progress with too much attention. Whirling around to face forward again, she'd been coat-hangered.
Someone had wiped her out with their arm.
Out cold.
She was never going to forgive herself for this.
But, if it had been someone who worked with the police, then she'd be in a jail cell, or some form on interview/detainment room. Since she wasn't whoever had knocked her out was working in conjunction with Le Rouge Jacques and had handed her over without a thought.
This was bad.
??!!??!!?!
This was bad.
Cho's steady gaze surveyed the apartment. It had been many hours since their altercation in the park.
Sylph had not returned.
The Inscrutable was becoming more anxious by the second. It was clear, Sylph should have returned by now. The sun had set and the night was only adding to their worry.
It should have only taken Sylph a minimum of two hours to get home; making sure that she hid her tracks and avoided the sights. But at the most, it should have also only taken roughly three hours for her to get back to the apartment, else she would have called and requested their help. Since she hadn't, and they had in fact not heard anything at all from their fellow crime-fighter, Cho was well aware something bad must have occurred.
Sylph was the more proprietary of the duo, she definitely seemed to enjoy following her own brand of procedure. She had clear goals on safety, even taking into account the nature of their 'jobs'.
She was the one who found the apartments and rigged them for their safety.
She was the one who scouted out the city streets finding the best places to hide and stash equipment.
She was the one who discovered the back streets and alleyways that could be used as shortcuts and safe-havens.
Sylph was also the one who infiltrated restaurants and shops searching for like minded individuals.
Her computers (the ones she had instinctively known Cho would appreciate – at least for their links into other governmental agencies) had databases full of people in San Realisto with whom they could trust, and notations into the varying degrees with which they could be trusted, with what information and why. There were also links to the people they could trust in other cities and across the country too.
Apparently Le Rouge Jacques wasn't as unnoticed as the media portrayed him to be. There were a few blogs that tracked a mysterious killer across the country, of course there were disparities and errors, but it was a comfort to know that the government's reach wasn't completely pervasive. Not exactly the patriotic belief a law enforcement officer of his caliber was supposed to believe, but then again, he wasn't exactly that line towing agent anymore. Too much had happened, Kimball Cho had died and a man without a name had replaced him.
He took a breath, and unsheathed his sword.
He had decided to get some practice in with his sword, other than his gun it was the only other true attribute he felt comfortable enough using around the abilities of The Inscrutable with his bewitching words and observations and Sylph with all of her silence and intellect.
Cho was smart, he knew that, it also wasn't something to apologize for; but he was methodical. He didn't really jump to conclusions, when he tried it just didn't pan out. He was the Watson to the instinctive Holmes. Actually, he realized that was pretty apt considering The Inscrutable was leaning against the apartment's window on the lookout for Sylph.
He wondered who Sylph might embody, in this re-invention of Arthur Conan Doyle's masterpiece. The characters were slipping away; he needed something else to concentrate on. Something... real.
He had already cleared away the living room's floor, moving the coffee table aside so that he could use the rug as his mat; the area for which he would practice his movements.
He defended against an imaginary foe. They fought quickly and with precision. He focused all of his energy on his movements, letting the situation and worry fade. It was a technique he used to get through college. Some people used exercise, running laps or swimming, riding a bicycle, going to the shooting range. Some people used books, transporting themselves into another world from the safety of their own homes, television and film did that too. But Cho used his sword, and his arts. They were what relaxed him.
He wasn't sure how long he practiced; eventually he noticed that The Inscrutable had retired to the bedroom – the secret room Sylph had first emerged from surprising them all.
Was that really only a few days ago?
He occupied himself with the business of getting ready for bed. He brushed his teeth in the small en suite, Sylph having prepared some essentials for him earlier. He changed into a spare pair of pajamas, and reclined on the couch. The Inscrutable and Sylph, unsurprisingly, weren't used to visitors; especially the kind that stayed over.
He dreamed of a strange world.
He oftentimes went there, mainly when he was stressed or feeling particularly emotional. The dream characters are familiar but odd, he can never seem to remember their faces, or even their names. But he feels at home with them. He trusts them, these dream friends... colleagues.
He is a cop there too.
He thinks.
When he wakes from the dream though, he is always confused.
Even in sleep Kimball Cho shakes his head at the oddity of his dreams.
He knows it does not matter, that in dreams you have to go with flow, let the dream river take you were it may. Like a leaf on the wind, you are subject to its natural order, you cannot effect change. You are merely an observer with an uninterrupted hand or view in the dream.
It's worse for Cho, because sometimes he cannot remember which world is his dream. This one or that one.
On a sidenote I'd just like to say that there really is a big difference between Australian English and American English. I seriously have problems with all this remembering who says what and how is that spelled again?
At least it keeps my brain active I suppose.
Any one else you feels the pain shout out ;)
Arc
