The ramen here was actually pretty good, if a little bland. It was cheap, too.
Nelon wasn't here with me. He was at a nearby homeless shelter that was geared almost entirely to Quarians, helping make the nutrient paste actually taste like something. A good tasting meal goes a long way, it seems.
PI business isn't all that bad, and I seem to have an eye for detail when it comes to these cases. I haven't been shot at yet, so that's something.
The first case Nelon and I ever did, for Mary Hudson, was easily solvable. We ordered another tank of fish and waited for it to arrive. When it did, we found out that the people stealing the fish were orphans that had been left on the Citadel for some reason or another.
After we told Mary, she offered to adopt the little kids and take care of them, but they refused. Turns out, they had a pretty good thing going for themselves. Most criminals wouldn't even pay attention to rats underneath their feet, so they heard quite a lot of information that would be of interest to us.
Instead, we made a deal. We would give them a safe place to eat and sleep, and in return, they would take any interesting tid-bits they heard and bring them to our attention.
Three times in the last two weeks they brought something to us. We took it to C-Sec, they arrested the crooks and paid us, and we got the credit for it. Of course, the kids spilt the fee. Nelon and I are not bastards.
Mary would come over every day or so and bring us meals from her restaurant. She is a very good cook. Excellent sushi.
While we'd done some good, solved some cases and made some people happy but…I was fucking bored. I haven't been shot at, been in a fight or punched a random person in two weeks!
My omni-tool chimed, drawing me out of my brooding funk. I opened up the channel to respond. "Saul Dewitt, PI. How can I help you?"
The flanging voice on the other end let me know it was a Turian. "Mr. Dewitt, this is Garrus Vakarian of Citadel Security. Am I bothering you right now?"
I tilt the bowl back and slurp down the rest of broth. "Nope. What do you need?"
"It's not something I can talk about over an open channel. Can you meet me near the Flux?" Garrus asks.
"Sure. Can I bring my partner?"
I can hear the shrug in his voice. "I wouldn't mind that. Be at the Flux in twenty minutes. Good bye."
Not wasting any time on bull shit, nice. I send a message to the good doctor as I call for a taxi, telling him where to go and who to expect.
…
The crappy future music is pounding, even outside of the Flux. Nelon and I enter through the door in time to watch a Salarian get thrown down the steps.
We step over him and pass by the bouncer, getting into the club itself. There's a dance floor, a couple of tables and booths and a bar, a long room with a large gambling section upstairs.
I recognize the Turian leaning on the bar. It's hard not to. He's wearing the dark blue and black armor of C-Sec, with the blue glowing visor over his right eye and everything. He waves us over. "You guys want a drink?"
Nelon ordered a glass of root beer while I asked for a pint of Guinness. When we had our drinks, Garrus bade us to follow him to a secluded booth.
"Alright Vakarian, what did you call me for?" I ask, sipping my black beer.
He waved a hand nonchalantly and sipped a dark purple drink. "Just call me Garrus, alright? You say 'Vakarian' and I look for my father."
I shrug. "Okay, Garrus."
He sighs and cradles his drink as Nelon stirs his root beer with a plastic stick. "Listen, I was investigating a murder, a human named Steve Downes. He was found dead in his apartment a couple of days ago with no obvious cause or suspects. For all intents, Downes was a nobody, just a regular guy who had no friends or enemies. Why would someone kill him?"
The Salarian next to me pulls the stick out of his root beer and licks it. "Read report. Cause of death ruled as suffocation, but no wire marks or hand prints. Would like to get a closer look at the body. More thorough than C-Sec."
I stop them there. "This all well and good, but why us? We're just a couple of PI's."
Garrus knocks his drink back and shudders slightly. "Your tips in the past couple of weeks have lead to the capture of three killers and gang members. I read the reports, you guys are pretty good at ferreting out the truth. The Executor closed the case a day ago, ruled it as a suicide and brushed it aside. But I think that there's something more to this. Steve Downes was a no one, but someone went through the trouble to make it look like he offed himself. I want your help in finishing this case."
I may have under-stated what we did with kids' information. They would get us the tips, we would follow through with them, do a little legwork, read the C-Sec reports due to a crappy security system I could crack in my sleep, and find out the truth. This is could be our chance. If we're successful, and the case is big enough, we could really make a name for ourselves and draw in some high-profile clients.
"Alright, I'm in." As a show of agreement, I hold up my Guinness, Nelon holds up his half-empty root beer and Garrus holds up his second drink, and we tap the glasses together and chug down the drinks.
"Alright, let's go look at a dead guy."
…
As Nelon shines a light into the eyes of the corpse of Steven Downes, the light brown irises stand out boldly against the blood-red sclera, and the blood-red sclera very nearly pops out of the pale grey skin that surrounded it.
Steven Downes was an average man no matter how you slice it. Average height, average weight, even average looks. Asking someone to pick this man out of a crowd would be like asking someone if they've ever seen a Turian laugh.
The answer would be 'no'.
The fact that this man looks like no one is disconcerting to me. Every one has their quirks and weirdness, but this man had exactly none, and that is very strange. He was basically a living, breathing robot without the charge-up port. Maybe. I wasn't exactly keen on finding out what was beneath the sheet.
"Hmm." Nelon hums to himself when he's thinking, and he's been humming quite a bit. "No signs of forced strangulation, though the burst blood-vessels in the eyes suggest vacuum exposure. No signs of struggle or bruising and no toxins in the blood."
"Yeah," Garrus chipped in, "The house wasn't broken into and nothing was missing, not even a credit chit. The system reported that the fire suppression systems were activated by his omni-tool, which was why it's been ruled as a suicide."
Nelon tilted the head to the left and exposed the neck. He leaned in, almost to the point that he was pressing his eyeballs against the corpses' neck. "To fingerprints on the jugular. Someone checked to make sure he was dead."
That is news. "It doesn't rule out a suicide, there might've been a double. But this is interesting. We should go to the victim's house next. We might find something some thing we overlooked before. It's only a short ride away, come on."
We must make quite the sight. A tall Turian in C-Sec blues, a forty-something human in a armored black leather jacket, and a Salarian in a white trench coat with the a red cross on the back and the breast.
Funny thing about Nelon: He's really fucking thin, even for a Salarian. While we were looking through clothes this one day, he couldn't find anything in his size in the men's section. As we were leaving the store, he spotted a white trench coat on the rack, saw that it would fit him perfectly, and snatched that up. After we bought it with a few wary looks from the cashier, Nelon found out that the coat he bought was a women's small. I didn't his face could get any redder, but he proved me wrong that day.
As for me being forty-something…that was a lie. I'm twenty, and I look like it. And there are very few people who take young guys seriously in the law-man business.
To that effect, I let some stubble grow out on my chin. Not a beard, just a five o'clock shadow that gives me a tired, aged look. I added a little bit of grey dye to the edges of my light brown hair and bam, I looked like a weathered and experienced man who's seen some shit. And therefore, I was taken seriously.
Garrus wore his C-Sec blues, I've said so before. Nelon wore his scrubs underneath his white trench with a shield hidden on his back incase we got into something, along with an SMG to get us out of trouble if it came to that.
I like what I wear these days. After trying various methods to get my armor to be more protective, I said fuck it and disassembled it. The boots I now wear; I painted them grey with black stripes, and the armor plating goes up to my knees. I didn't wear the thigh-plating that much, just stored it for heavier combat later. The chest piece was broken up into sections. Most of the front and back was made into a ballistic vest to be worn over a shirt; the rest was attached to my jacket. The shoulder plates, some of the back plates along with the arm guard and gauntlets cover my shoulders, back and arms, though I didn't wear the gauntlets often as a personal preference. I keep Tagger visible on my hip but keep Bagger hidden on my back, with a Biotic Barrier up for protection.
All in all, although we make a strange group, there's no denying we look badass as hell.
Steven Downes' apartment is just average as the guy, save for the holo-tape in front of the door. We ignore it and enter the building and find his place on the ground floor, with more holo-tape in front covering it. He had a kitchen, a living room with a bathroom and a bedroom, which is more than most people doing the 'average salary' thing. Hell, me and Nelon shared a flat above the office that only a little bigger than this and that was because Tela paid the lease before disappearing out of my life like a damn ghost.
Garrus points out a spot in front of the couch. "This where we found him. No one else except the CSI team has been in here, excluding the mystery second."
As I search in my pockets, I ask Garrus a question. "Do you have the genetic profiles of your team and our vic?"
He seems to be startled, if the twitching of his mandibles is anything to go by. "Of course. Why do you ask?"
I finally find what I've been looking for as I ask another question. "Can you send them to me?"
He's wary of me, but he sends the data packet along. "Alright, I've sent them. Again, why do you need them?"
I pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them over my eyes, tapping the bridge to activate the HUD function. "Nelon and I cobbled together a couple pairs of these from some repurposed helmets and some medical equipment. They can act as scanners that can find and analyze DNA and RNA."
Garrus is perplexed, and he makes it known. "How does that help us? Besides the CSI team, the mystery second only touched Downes. We scanned the building before and didn't find anything."
"Did you search for footprints?"
"Yeah, of course. We didn't find anything." The irritation shows by his mandibles opening and closing a few centimeters rapidly.
Nelon takes over from here as I calibrate my glasses with the genetic profiles Garrus sent me. "When humanoids pull on shoes, they always grab the bottom around the middle to push them on, or brush against the sides to adjust them. This leaves traces around the footprint they leave. The depth of the sheddings and the amount around the print can tell us many things."
I'm just going to scan while the doc explains it to Garrus. The footprints of myself, Nelon, Garrus and the other team show up as a neutral blue. I adjust the search parameters to find foreign DNA, and a light dusting of red highlights a path around where the body fell. "Found something!" I call to the two aliens. "From the size and the shape, I'd say human male, late twenties or early thirties. The depth tells me he weighs around 160 lbs and has seen combat. Length of the stride suggests a height of 5'11". Pressure analysis tells me he walks on the pads of his feet, so we're looking for a sneaky bastard who's fought at some point."
Garrus' jaw drops, and Nelon has a smug look on his face. "I want one." The Turian says plainly.
Looking up, I can see the red footprints leaving out the door. "I can see more footprints from out mysterious man going out the door. Let's follow and see what we can find."
We follow the only trail I can see, the doctor pulling on his own pair. My HUD-glasses are sportier and cover the whole eye and the socket, while the doctor's are round and still stylish. He sticks the legs to the side of his head with a pair of adhesive patches, lacking ears.
"Here," He points at a divergent set of steps leading up the stairs. "The path separates. I will look up top. You follow the other."
We exchange nods and split with Garrus following me. "So, how did you meet the doctor?" He tries making easy conversation.
"He was my doctor after I got on the wrong side of a Batarian slaver. The slaver threw me through a crate after bashing me in the head with the butt of his shotgun. The doctor even came to rescue me after I was kidnapped by the slavers' leader." I explain to him, following the steps as we talk. "Here. The administrator's terminal. It's a holo-pad, so I can get any readings off of that. But, I can hack the system and find out the system commands on that day."
Garrus is looking over my shoulder, his omni-tool out and glowing. "It's twice encrypted; it'd be a lot faster if double team it."
"Alright."
We dive right in, him taking one chunk and me the other. In no time, the systems' cracked and we're in.
My fingers dance over the holo-pad, finding the system commands on the day Steven Downes was killed. "Look here. It says on Monday, at seven twenty, the fire suppression system was activated in Steven Downes apartment, and there's no reason listed as why. It seems to have been hacked to accept the command without a valid reason or password."
Garrus taps me on the shoulder and holds out his omni-tool, a screen hovering above the gauntlet. "Look at this. This is a recording from the camera above the terminal. Watch."
He fast forwards. A couple of people zip by and an Asari stops to type at the terminal. When 7:20 rolls around, no one appears next to the terminal, but the timestamp jumps forward three minutes for no reason. "Did you see that?" Garrus asks.
"I noticed. The time jumps forward. This 'mystery second' wasn't the second. He was the killer. This is a murder." I declare.
My omni-tool chimes. "Dewitt."
Nelon's voice comes over the com. "Saul. Traced footprints up the stairs to apartment 21b. Broke in and found recent signs of life, but furniture, clothes or anything needed to live. Are still at the terminal?"
"Yup. Checking it out…now." The screen flickers as a list of names rises to the front. "21b…was rented by a Charles Lee. He turned in his last payment four hours ago."
There was another set of footsteps leading out of the apartment building. Those were the freshest and most recent. "Nelon, get down here. Charles Lee might still be on the station."
Garrus and I run through the hallway and meet Nelon at the front door. We find the tracks glaring a bright red from the floor and follow after them at a swift jog.
As we jogged, I noticed something. Lee, whoever he was, avoided the parts of the streets with the most traffic. Nelon noticed this as well. "Whoever Lee is, he is leaving a trail for us. Better be prepared to fight."
Although my sunglasses will do fuck-all to protect my face, at least I'll look stylish if I get shot.
"This man is definitely leaving a trail. We've gone seven blocks. Most people would have used a sky-car before now." Garrus notes, breathing only a little heavily.
"I recognize this place," I speak out loud, "We're in the 9000 blocks. Our office is only a block away."
The tracks lead past the office and into Cultured Cuisine. Mary looks very surprised to see me, Nelon and an armored Turian burst into the eatery with weapons drawn. "Mr. Dewitt! What is going on?"
"Mary, was there a man in here a couple minutes ago named Charles?" I ask, lowering my gun and deactivating my HUD-glasses.
"Charlie? Yeah, he left about an hour ago, said he had a family problem back home and wouldn't be back." Mary wipes one of her eyes. "That poor man. So sad that his cousin died."
"Can you show us where he was sitting on the security cameras?" Garrus asks impatiently.
Mary is startled by the force in his voice and silently opens a nearby terminal. She taps a few keys and shows us a video of Chinese man with black hair eating some food at the third table to our left. After Mary comes by and pours him a drink, he looks directly into the camera and traces something onto the table with his fingers.
I jog over to the table, my glasses turning back on.
Written in bold red against the white table top, the words jump out at me from the HUD in front of my eyes.
The Guardian of Tartarus is watching you, Mr. Dewitt.
Cerberus.
…
A/N: And there we go. This is my first chapter trying out the whole 'mystery and suspense' thing. How did I do? Do you have any suggestions?
Thanks for reading and reviewing my work. I have the next few chapters already outlined, so expect to see those in the next week or so. I promise, you'll like what you read. Teaser:
The café looks over the Presidium, giving a very nice, open view of the river and the inhabitants below us. The hum of the sky-cars is negligible at this distance, so there is some measure of piece.
The cloud of fragrant smoke that escapes my mouth drifts up and disperses into a little cloud the quickly vanishes in the breeze. These smart, healthy cigarettes are very smooth and have a very clean, fresh taste. It's not as if I smoke all the time, just once in awhile when I have some time to think. After what happened a month ago, cases have slowed down a bit. Nelon can handle whatever comes up and he insisted on my taking a break for lunch. He's such a workaholic.
"Hey, do you have one to spare?" The voice is soft and husky, but strong and noticeably feminine.
My hand slips into my pockets and retrieves the pack, offering it to the woman next to me. Her lips are red like rubies and soft as silk as they clasp the butt in her mouth. The flame that jumps from my lighter throws her face into sharp relief. It's heart-shaped and smooth, with pale, nearly porcelain skin. Her hair is a very dark, rich brown that seems to be almost black, and her eyes are like sapphires that stare into my soul.
Her dress is stylish but not revealing, bucking the current trend of showing at least a little cleavage, but it's snug and looks very good on her. The bird choker around her throat must be an antique; I've never seen anything like it in this time.
"What would you say if I told you 'I want to hire you for a job'?" She asks, the curls of smoke escaping her lips framing her face and giving it an almost ethereal glow.
"I'd ask, 'What sort of job'?" I reply, taking another drag.
"The job where you save the life of an innocent and gain something very valuable in return." She says, her face only barely shifting.
"Well, then I'd say, 'why me?'"
Her gaze narrows on me, and I feel a tingle creeping up my spine. "The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world, mister…?"
"Dewitt. Saul Dewitt." I turn and push my hand out, my fingers slightly curled.
She smiles, if only slightly, and slides her hand into mine. "Mr. Dewitt. I'm looking for a girl. A very important girl. And I need your help to find her. The last I heard, she was on Omega." Her grip is firm, but her hands are soft but calloused. The calloused hand of a lady familiar with a gun.
Omega. Looks like it's time to pay the Queen of Omega a visit. "You can call me Saul."
"You can call me Elizabeth."
…
Bam.
Read, Review and Enjoy.
Stay Awesome.
~Soleneus
P.S: Don't be surprised to the see that section lifted and pasted on the chapter it takes place in.
Stay Awesome Some More.
~still Soleneus
