I-I- *Flaps and dies- o_o
Diverging opinions. Guess that's normal in a functioning society D:
Okay, thanks guys for your response! Will attempt to merge all the advice together and improve what can be improved. 8D
And zomg no, I don't mean punish in a throw-him-off-cliff way. But legally speaking, what he did is wrong, so that has to be chalked up somewhere eventually. Yeah, once I work out all the kinks, that is.
A/N ; Yes, the story doesn't match up from the end of the last one with this. In my defense, I am just an author who likes to use cheap tricks to hold people's attention span. XD (And...I am sorry for all the pokemon references. I am just excited that HG and SS is coming out in English safkjdgkjasl.) And so sorry for the late late late update - exams are finally over x_x
XXVI : Lines in the mud
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The moon was waning by the time Nail had stepped out of the prison in the city, the lulls of the glow dulled by the clouds that had drifted in after the rain in preparation for a storm later on. Up at Eagle Mountain though, the night had only just begun, the clouds that had been promiscuous in their attempt to hide the waning moon having fled somewhat to lower grounds. The moon was not happy with the gathering of the police, like little ants gathering for a war around the slopes and cliffs of Eagle Mountain, and she frowned down appropriately in disapproval at them.
At eight that night the first officers had arrived on the scene. Their cars moved around at a speed that could rival a tortoise, because any faster and it would have been roaring in the kind of silence that permanently cloaks the mountain. It's like a countryside, or just the bushes – you scream from one side of the dirt road and your great grandmother five generations removed is going to hear it down the street without her hearing aid. So instead they crawled at a horribly slow pace, wincing every time the old state-issues coughed up with a choking kinda mechanical choke.
Still, they survived, and the first ring of officers fresh out of their day in the PD were around the place, drinking their instant coffee and wondering when the rest of them would arrive.
By the time ten came around, more and more officers started drifting in. Whether it was that they just got their note from the chief, or whether the receptionist had just beamed at them and announced their unpaid OT, they drifted in by the ones and twos. There weren't any discipline visible – because what the hell, the chief ain't here, is here? Why work so hard when there isn't a purple face somewhere down the line shouting at you to walk in a single file? Not that they're not hardworking...They just need a break.
Eventually the cars became visible as they fill up the space and spilled out of the shadow and into the illuminated grass. They had been given simple orders – park the car somewhere where it can't be easily seen, so the first of them had chosen a cliff that sliced off the forest where their convict is apparently is in. It's on lower ground, and unless their convict had a habit of standing by cliffs and staring at the sky, they weren't likely to be spotted. So the first cars chose that area, and before long the whole bunch of them clouded the shadow of the cliff, where the darkness is so inky black that if you spit out, you won't find your spittle again until you step on it and dirty your boot.
The chief was nowhere to be found, and neither is the prosecutor and detective Gumshoe, which they have come to recognized as the easiest way to find the chief in a crowd. Just look for the unwashed coat, and you'll find the kid. But no. No sign of the chief, no sign of the detective, or the rock star. One of them saw what looked like a glint from somewhere above the cliff – like the kind of reflection you get when you angle a piece of glass in a particular angle against light, or a shiny surface of some kind – but he was as soon dismissed. Probably just tired. They all are.
After the whole deal with Block Aurum and The Hole in The Wall, they're all kind of apprehensive of what their latest job is going to entitled. After the last one...Well, reporters had started picking them out like eagles on chickens after they realized that both Kazaf and Klavier were no-goes, and Apollo even more clam on the whole thing. The officers were approach in all states – in surprise, in ambush, while eating ice-cream...Nowhere's safe when the mic is concerned, and most of them have been approached by deadbeat journalists more than once.
So yeah, they're a little concerned.
By midnight most of the officers had arrived there, with the exception of a few that had gone AWOL, and some left behind in the PD in case there's some kind of emergency over there. Everyone is there, and everyone is armed, and they were all just waiting for the signal before they put their pointlessly large force into good use.
They really couldn't understand the logic behind it. After all, it's just one lonely criminal – how hard can it be to get someone like that? It doesn't matter how smart he's supposed to be – he can't be that smart if his location got leaked like this. He can't be all that smart if he left enough clues behind to allow detectives to piece together where he is either. So who cares, right? With a group this size, they can't lose.
No freaking way.
Kazaf lowered the pair of binoculars and placed it onto the hood of the car with a thonk. He replaced it with a pair of orange-lens goggles that did nothing more than to impair his vision and lend a hideous orange tinge to the entire place. But it wasn't like the tinge was a great decrease in his eyesight – there really isn't anything to be seen anyway.
Gumshoe's car was parked five hundred miles above the officers and on a hill that slid down onto the forest. It's stuck in a clearing, but it's got enough trees around it to make sure that it isn't in plain sight if someone looks down from below, and it's just clear enough that you can get a good view of the forest and the field from up here. It was a miracle that they even got there at all – and now there's a huge dent where the door once was and one side of it was stuck shut – but they made it there anyway and they've been here since before the first officers drifted in below, with their binoculars firmly trained on the forest to spot any kind of massive movements.
It was a vain hope at best, and a vain hope indeed it turned out to be. There really is nothing to be seen – from up here the forest is like a thick clump of seaweed and algae, waving back and forth to the whims of the wind and rustling in and out like a giant monster with a secret. Nothing can be seen from above the thick weave of the green, and they had come here not expecting to see anything anyway. It's more like a cursory hope, a way to test the water. Lift a single toe to test the cold. They had spend hours sitting in the same spot and looking at that thick green, not expecting to see Kristoph. They were right in not expecting anything, because there was nothing.
"Ach, I don't think there's anything else to be gained here, Kaz."
Kaz looked out at the forest, squinting a little beneath the goggles. "Yeah, guess so. I was kind of hoping, I dunno – we'll catch a glimpse of blue or something. A sign that we're on the right track. Guess the forest is just too far away for that to be possible, huh?" He slid down from the car and winced at the pins and needles clouding his feet. God, he felt like someone's who's spent the pass five hours sitting on a toilet bowl.
"You saw anything?" He called out at Gumshoe, who was squinting pass his own pair of binoculars.
"Nope, pal! I didn't see anything at all."
"Awesome. Guess it's a no-go then. If we want to find where he is, we're going to have to go in."
Klavier frowned and looked at the forest. He's been frowning for a whole hour now, and if he doesn't watch it, he's going to have a wrinkled forehead. That, or he becomes on of those prematurely graying people, like Edgeworth. Not that it would matter to Klavier anyway, he'd just dye his hair back to the shade of blonde it is now.
"We're really going to do this, aren't we?"
"Uh. That would be a yes. You're not chickening out on me, are you? Because it's not going to work without you fingering the Ouija board."
"Nein," Klavier shook his head, and forced out a bark of humourless laughter. It sounds a little like those people who laugh at funerals, whether or not they're just there to spite people or they're really trying to be cheerful – they're hollow and empty. Kind of grayish laughter, if such could be said of laughter. "I'm not chickening out, nein. It just...Feels kind of scary, y' know? Like walking up to mein big bruder and telling him I flunked a subject or something – that kind of nervousness."
"Ah. Nervousness. Yes, I can see how you might be nervous," He commented sagely, not feeling very sagely at all. "It's something that goes rushing and rushing in the bloodstream."
Klavier shrugged helplessly. "I suppose so. I've never even been on investigations – at least not that much. Usually it's the fraülein or Nail that does all the investigation for me – either that or I 'borrow' it from Apollo." He slid a stray glance at Kazaf. "Aren't you nervous about this? I mean, I get that you're not exactly my brother's biggest fan, but you were once friends, ja?"
Kazaf avoided his eyes and pulled out a notebook, scribbling blankly into it. "I'm the chief. I do my job, get the criminal, add another name to my hall of fame – that's all. If a cog in the wheel doesn't work, it'll be excised. " He scowled at the forest. "But I think we're talking too much. It's almost midnight already. Shall we move, or do you need more yoga before you're ready to roll?"
"Nein – but can't we wait for Nail or something?"
"I don't think Nail's coming, frankly. Last I heard from him, he got Daryan – then I called him an hour ago, and the thing's on permanent voice mail. I even asked Ema if she knew where he was, and all I got is a bunch of obscure verbal snackoos."
"Ach."
Klavier resumed blinking at the forest, a person who can't quite decide whether to jump or not to jump. It's not something, not a step easily taken. He's told everyone he's come across so many times that this was the best thing to do that he's almost close to believing it himself. But repeatedly telling yourself something doesn't always change what you yourself believe – but it's a belief he held above his head like a sacred flame to be prayed to religiously nonetheless. It's a way to justify to himself what he was about to do. Right things aren't always the easiest.
He felt a familiar rush of adrenaline in him. It's the kind he gets just before he goes up on stage there with slightly knocking knees and his heart going like a racehorse. The kind he's getting right now and not even the chilly mountain air can dampen – because somewhere down there is his brother, and soon all this will be over. Soon life will turn back to normal – boringly boring, but nice nonetheless – and the pendulum that is the world will resume it's oscillation...How's that less than ideal, so to quote?
Sucking in a deep breath, Klavier resisted the urge to slap himself into moving. Stop dilly-dallying, just get it over with. Pull it out fast and hard, and it won't bleed quite that much.
"Okay." He announced. "Let's do this. Do we send the men in or...?"
"No," Kazaf said sharply. "None of my men are going in there – not a single one."
"But it'll be over with faster if we just send them in," Klavier complained, frowning at the shorter guy. Kazaf just scowled back at him.
"No freaking way. If I send someone in, I'm getting a body bag back." He snapped. "Your brother has a lot to answer for, but least on the list is incompetence – and I'm not going to send them in there to die."
"Ach, but they are grown men, ja? They can take care of themselves – and that way this will end--"
"No." Kazaf announced, putting a foot down on it. "No is no is no. No one's going in. We're going to block the whole area, and I don't care if it takes a month or a year – no one's going in and coming out with bullet holes all over. I don't want the paperwork, and I don't want the sobbing families. And least of all do I want to attend their funeral knowing I put them in the hole."
"Pah." Klavier spat. "That's just going to take way longer."
"And what's the rush on it? We're running a race now, are we?"
Klavier grumbled – but he knew this is a fight he won't be winning. Kazaf is the authority here, and Klavier's just a prosecutor who isn't even supposed to be here considering that there's no case for him to prosecute here. But just like plunging into the deep end of the pool, he wanted to get it over quickly and hurry back to the city and back to Apollo– and forget all about the bitter and slightly iron taste in the air. The air reflects what a person feels – it tastes like stone when you feel like a stone.
Kazaf pulled out the transceiver that connects to the ones of the police force assembled down the moonlight, tapping their feet and waiting for a signal from their chief. The thing snipped on with a crack, and the red light started blinking in preparation.
"I wish Apollo is here." Klavier sighed, closing his eyes. But Apollo isn't here, for obvious reasons. He has even less excuse to be here, and even less reason to do so. Apollo doesn't even want to be there when Kristoph is finally cornered and dispatched – least of all see the look on Kristoph's face once he realized who had been behind his demise. But if Apollo is here, then things would be so much easier.
Because Apollo is what Klavier considered to be a pillar of righteousness. Like something, an imperial seal that automatically renders whatever you're doing the right thing as long as he is by your side. As long as you can hold his hand, you feel like whatever you're doing is just - the justifiable thing.
"I wish my sister is here too," Kazaf mumbled. "But summoning the family reunions aren't going to make this any easier, is it? Kristoph's down there – a brother of yours, a responsibility of mine. You want to fix him up, I need to break him down. So." He looked up at Klavier and squinted a little – whether because of the lens of the goggles or because Klavier's hair looks particularly bright under the waning moon. He raised a hand to shield off the non-existent brightness.
"You ready to roll?"
The transceiver's light turned green, and Klavier sucked in a deep breath.
When is a person ever ready to betray people? At the spur of the moment, or after careful planning? Either way Klavier would never be – but he'll still have to do it anyway. He nodded at the kid, and the kid nodded back.
"Let's roll then."
The white car had moved at approximately seven minutes to eleven – one whole hour after Daryan and Machi had their little showdown on the side of the road. It's been an hour since, but for all the things that had happened in that hour, it might as well be five. You can't even run a dozen miles in an hour, but in the space of the last hour, Nail has found himself
(a) Busted, or the close enough equivalent of and
(b) Shouted at by Daryan, no less.
(a) is somewhat believable – it's not like he ever had a hope of getting out of that one unnoticed anyway. If Klavier and the rest of the PD boys had been a little less busier running about looking for their two elusive unicorns and had left the little pranks to the harmless sidelines for the moment, someone would have pointed at it a long time ago, shouting 'Hey! That doesn't look like Klavier's bathroom!'. And yeah, you don't need to dial the 150s on the IQ scale to be able to figure out just about the only mates he had around here whom he crash on every other weekend.
(B) unfortunately, left him somewhat...Strange. Not upset, not really. Daryan had achieved new heights on Nail's shit list the moment he had been busted on the whole smuggling business, and he's just about the only person on said list that made him want to rip his face out and pat him on the back at the same time. Somewhat conflicting intentions, yes. But now he's left feeling strange and not quite sure what to feel, torn between trying to feel upset, and not finding the basis to do it.
Yes, Daryan knows. Yes, Klavier will soon know. What does he lose? Something that has already been lost? Deal me another hand, darling. He wondered briefly - as he unlocked his car and threw his equipment into the seat, the spare bottles of chemicals knocking loudly against each other in the process – if Klavier would be angry at him, then felt stupid for thinking that. If Enrich was here, he'll pull out that trusty notebook of his and start scribbling equations on it, then show it to Nail the exact probability of Klavier being grade-A pissed at him.
Nail would actually understand the formula this time too. 100/100 x 100 = 100%. He's a hundred and fifty percent worth of screwed.
Oh well, he thought cheerfully, starting up the engines and sticking the heater on to max. It's getting cold, with it being night and the spring rain had started pelting onto the windshield in huge, heavy drops that looked like a bad-egg rain from the skies.
Encore your performance, Nail Colfin.
The engine mewed like a petted tomcat, and Nail just sat there for a moment, staring out at the windshield and the way the bad eggs fall on the glass. Pitter patter pitter patter. The wiper goes eeeeek, and then it's back to pitter patter pitter patter again – the rain's starting to show how merciless it can be when it wants to, and Nail had nowhere to go to to get out of the rain.
Rather he had, but he has no idea where he should be heading. Head home, he supposed, and write himself a report to hand in to Devereux on Monday. Or maybe he can go out, get drunk and barf all over his own couch. That would be the ultimate irony – since he still hasn't gotten the stains off from the last time Klavier had done it to his couch. But no, Nail isn't in the mood for getting drunk, and all it'll do is make him even more acutely aware that his only friend is behind bars, his only other friend is off with a spear to harpoon his brother, and the other other friend is busy being scientific.
He needed something to do, something to get his mind off stuff, until life falls down on his head and whacks him stupid. Reaching for the drawer under the dashboard, he retrieved his phone, the one he had threw into the car earlier. Five leftover messages – both from Kazaf and surprisingly – Ema.
He ignored the ones from Kazaf, because he had a general idea of what those wanted. It's either the reports, or just general bugging him about what happened with Daryan, and as much as he loved writing long-winded reports, Nail isn't exactly up for scientific bibles at the moment. Instead, he moved on to Ema's messages.
[K told us to hill once rdy, mite need extra help ] [ 9:45]
Ah, head up, eh? And stand in the rain? Awesome. Why hadn't he thought of that? Exactly what he needed to cheer himself up – stand in the rain, catch a head cold and die of pneumonia. Perfect way to end Saturday's night out. Next please.
[U THERE? K says to go once finish with Daryan][10:50]
Then barely ten minutes before : [?????????]
Nail chuckled.
This is one girl who's got...Way too much time on her hands and way too much phone credit. He took it up and punched her number in instead – with luck, she might be persuaded to just ditch the whole operation and go for a scientific drink or two or something. He's pretty sure he could show her the right way to deal with exploded mortar and the best way to determine what caused it to explode in the first place – not that that would make any sort of decent conversation over orange juice, but Ema's special that way alright.
The phone beeped precisely three and a half times before it went through.
"Nail...?" Came the raspy voice. It sounded faraway – or maybe it was just bad reception with the rain and all.
"Heya, Em. You called?"
"Oh gosh, there you are! Where were you off to? I've called you at least half a dozen times this past hour!"
"Scientific examination of my inbox tells me that 'zis only been three times," He chuckled. He winced a little where his cheek muscles hurt from smiling so much earlier. Ironic that the one time he's really smiling, it hurts. "But yes, I've left my phone in the car and getting Daryan to settle in took longer than expected."
"Why?" She asked curiously. Nail is stumped for a moment or two, before blurting out--
"He uh. Needed laundry service."
"Huh? But isn't that supposed to be done by the jail guys?"
"He's um, really picky about what he wears. But anyway! Are you free right now, Ema?"
"Colfin..." She started – and Nail could grasp by that grumpy tone that the nagging's going to start in 5...4...3...2..Andddddd...
"You haven't been playing hooky, have you?"
Bingo.
"Of course not," He protested. "You know no one in Forensic's is going to play truant from the joy that is working. How can we possibly stop working for more than a moment? Forensic's is just too much fun, that's all."
Ema snorted sceptically, and Nail broke into a full grin. Always bring Forensics into play in a conversation with Ema, and you'll never go wrong. The snackoo bag's always more generous with lab people than it is with say, the general glimmerous fop. At the thought of Klavier however, the grin wore down into a smile, and he remembered why he was talking to her in the first place and not back home writing his report.
"Hey Ems, wanna go out and get a drink or something? Ditch the operation – it can't be that interesting with that many people there. All the footsteps always get muddied."
"Are you crazy?" She snapped back. Ouch. Excuse me for asking. Then she pressed on. "Kazaf's been scratching high and low for you – says he wants you here in case Klavier has a break down and goes all sob story on him or something. You had better get over soon, or he'll go crazy with the budget scissors again."
Well, that's an interesting proposal. Normally he wouldn't leave Klavier to flap around on his own. It's one of the perks of being friends with a fellow human being, you always have to be there to prop them up when they're down, and besides, you never know what kind of trouble they'll get themselves into, and Nail's too much of a motherhen to leave them wandering around like the depressed rockers they are. Except he had a feeling that he was probably a depressed rocker himself, and the only thing he's going to do to to Klavier's mood is to rock it – dragging it down like said substance. Klavier's mood will sink with a fellow rock around, that's for sure.
"Really?" He chirped, sounding utterly nonchalant about it. "But I can't - I'm kind of busy right now..."
Ema's answer is fast, instantaneous, and deadly.
"Busy doing what?"
Urk.
'Science?" Nail offered hopefully.
"Wow, that must be some great science you're up to then, Colfin - since the labs are closed. What are you using as the petri dish? Your dog's water bowl?"
"Right." He sighed. So much for his plans to actually play hooky for a while – that kid's a slave driver through and through. No wonder there's so much gossip about him floating out there. With the way he treats his subordinates, it's no wonder there will be those who are resentful. Guess he had no choice but to go up there and work his magic. Nail sighed again, and it drifted into the phone, and an irritated Ema grumbled back.
"What are you sighing about? You're not even here – and it's freezing cold here. Devereux hasn't send in any orders either, and we're all just standing around like meat puppets. Stop acting like an old man and climb up here."
"Joy." Nail muttered, and then with another sigh, picked himself up. He's having enough sighs to inflate a balloon, at the rate he's going. "Well, I guess I better head up then, before someone flips."
"You better – or I'll pump you full of snackoos otherwise," She threatened. Another click, and then the whole phone was silent again. Nail chucked the phone onto his dashboard, nearly cracking the phone in the process when it hit the windshield, and leaned his head against the steering wheel. One sigh please – just one more.
He leaned one ear against the steering wheel and used the other to listen to the raindrops going pitter patter outside, sounding like footsteps now. Maybe something is out there, knocking on his window and telling him to get his ass up to the mountains. One more sigh, and he was together again – pulled up and haphazardly glued together for the time being. He put a foot down onto the accelerator and the car growled approvingly, and the white begin to move and roll down the road. Then it was picking up speed, and soon it was zoning through the place, slashing through the downpour of the dark clouds.
The trip down to Eagle Mountain takes almost two hours, but with the roads empty of people and the city nothing but drapes after drapes of monochrome velvet, there's nothing to stop him, and nothing to slow him down. So he jammed the foot down until it nearly broke through the floor of the car, dashing forwards blindly in the rain and trying to outrun water itself.
Nail reached the place in record time. Barely one hour later, and he was there along with the rest of the officers. The rain's stopped somewhere between the fourth checkpoint between L.A and the mountain, and it's now drizzling slightly, lending the tinge of slight gloominess to the place. He's in one piece, and has all four limbs to brag of. Admittedly the car had nearly skidded out of the road and flew off a bridge and into the gloomy darkness, but hey – at the last moment he had managed to jam his foot onto the brake and swerve the car into an arc, narrowly missing death.
So he's in one piece – shaken, but in one piece. That's good. Hey! Maybe as a career option, he'll consider being a stunt actor!
Nail pulled his car up beside the police cars – looking extraordinarily shabby beside theirs. His might be a sports car and it might be white, but after being dragged through miles of mud and rain, it looked like something a cat spat out, or a dirty hamster. Mud spots all over. Gosh – that would be another thing to do, clean his car. Why had he chose a colour that can be so easily dirtied? He swore as he slammed the door down and shut. Like the ringing of a death knell, Ema materialized beside him.
"You! Took you long enough!"
"Uh yeah, apologies." He twirled a finger around his hair sheepishly. "Got into some trouble on the way up. The car got stuck in a ditch, drilled up the mud and..." He waved a helpless hand at the mud splatters all over the car. The wheel had been stuck in a watery, muddy ditch, and the resulting mess looked exactly like when the shit hit the fan...Now available in mud flavour. "And did you see the river down there? It's rushing like the eye of a whirlpool."
Ema looked at the mess on the car, and tutted. "That's what you get for buying such a glimmerous choice of transport."
"Oh? It's better than the scientific transportation using muscular locomotion, don't you think?" He quipped, knowing full well she would have had to hitch a ride with another officer.
"Shush you. Muscular locomotion happens to burn calories. And it's definitely faster than xylem transportation."
"Not a feat to brag about – but I digress. Has Kaz send down the GO buttons?" He asked. Looking around at the group of officers lounging around and discussing football like pundits though...It's doubtful. He squinted his eyes to allow his pupils to adjust better to the shadow of the cliff, and saw nothing more revealing than a couple of dozen figures leaning against cars and getting impatient.
"I gather not?"
"No," Ema stated, frowning. "The call hasn't come in yet, and God knows we're getting tired of standing around like idiots. If Devereux doesn't move the kids out soon, we're going to have people going AWOL 'cuz they can't keep their eyes apart long enough to look five centimeters ahead, never mind shoot someone."
"I'm doubtful we'll be shooting anyone tonight," He commented. Knew the kid's ways. He pointed at a stack of rolled-up things stacked against the muddy side of a car, looking rather like forlorn sushi. "What's that?"
"Tents," Ema answered. "Devereux told us to bring it down – they're dug up from the store. Some kinda tents for when they have to shield the place from rain to stop the crime scene from corroding, I think."
"Oh those. Haven't seen one in years. He told them to bring it down here?"
"Yeap."
He looked at the rolled up forms. "Strange," He announced, "But of no consequence. Now, shall we wait somewhere where we won't be pelted to death by raindrops and wait for the calls to come in?"
Ema nodded, and they walked towards the rest of the Forensics and a couple of lab assistants milling about the area under a large tree. These guys weren't talking football, but they sure were excited about organic chemistry. Ema fit right into the conversation, and Nail wandered off to lean against the tree and glance up at the cliff, wondering when the call would come in. He had resigned himself to the fate that he's going to be spending the night, and the next couple of nights out here being bitten to death by mosquitoes and having squirrels fight for a taste of his hair – when he looked up and saw...Something.
He wasn't quite sure what it was – like the officer that had seen it earlier. But he was pretty sure he had seen something, that's for sure. Something that looked like a figure, maybe of a man or something – standing by the cliff and looking down at the assembled police. He was way too far to even know if it was a man or not just some kind of optical illusion or a man-shaped tree, but he rather thought it looked kind of ominous, painted and pinned onto a stark background like that. Dark skies, drizzles. Something right out of an apocalypse movie.
Captain wants your coffee mug.
Then a distant flash of lightning, and the figure disappeared again. Nail was left staring at the spot and scowling at it, wondering if he should tell someone what he saw or just leave it be. If it was really that brother of Klavier's, they had better move before he escapes again – and Nail was pretty sure even that horn-headed boyfriend of Klavier's isn't going to be able to pinpoint his old man twice in a row. Also maybe he should remind Kazaf that...
"Hello, Earth to Nail." Ema snapped beside him, interrupting him.
"Huh?" He grunted.
"The receivers are going off the hooks – Kaz is calling in. We'd better go and get the one in the car or we'll miss the long long speech."
Nail grunted and nodded again. One last look at the spot in the distance, and he was off with Ema again, muddying up his boots and trudging through the ground. The area had been grass earlier – beautiful fresh grass – but by the time they arrived around the crowd of cars, the field had turned into mud. Sludge, and a couple of million footsteps in the ground that crisscrossed and stepped over each other until they make a canvas of brown. The faint crackle of the dozens of transceivers in the cars were unmistakeable though – someone's calling in.
"Achtung, baby. Everyone on the listening side – everything A-Okay?"
Ema frowned. "So that's where he was. I was starting to wonder if maybe he had disappeared for good and that's why Devereux wanted you." Nail shrugged in response. Somehow, after the lambasting from Daryan, it felt like listening to Klavier's voice – whatever it's saying – sounded like it was admonishing him. Not that he felt particularly sorry for what he did. When you simplify it into a childish equation, it always ends up with who-did-it-first. But still.
"So! Gute Nacht everyone – and I would introduce myself here, except I think there is no need to introduce this lovely voice, ja? I think I've been playing out of the PD PA system enough to merit recognition..."
The officers milling about the bottom of the cliff snapped their attentions away from each others face long enough to stare at their transceivers. Most of them have their own, and some are stuck to their cars. They're tuned to accept signals from only the chief at the moment – one way connection from his to theirs – and indeed the voice needs to introduction. Klavier Gavin has been playing on their respective tables for years, and they stiffened up like the tables in question as the voice crackled through.
"...I'm pretty sure you gentlemen know enough about what we're doing tonight to tone this transceiver down..."
At this, a few blushed and hurriedly reached for the volume button to crank the thing back down to the minimum. Nail smirked and toned his own receiver down to minimum volume.
"...And I know that you guys are probably sick from hearing the same thing over and over again from your chief – but it is necessary, ja? We must brief, and you must be briefed, even if it's going to sound like a helping of nagging from the wives."
The officers chuckled with the laughing voice coming from the transceiver. The general population were still leaning against their cars, not really that upset about the whole thing. A few were looking up at the cliff though – where their target was. Some looked at it with something akin to worry – about the convict, and about what he has done to deserve so many officers for him – and a few looked at it with a gleam in their eyes. They can't wait until the chief orders the go, and they set in like a million asteroids of bullshit on this guy.
Wham, bam, thank you man – for giving us this load of bullshitting OT.
"So, here's to the chief, ja? I think he can explain it better than I can. Kaz?"
They sounded like a damned talk show to Nail, but who was he to complain? A tiny pause, then static as the transceiver is moved and the signal wavers for a moment. Up here in the mountains, the signals sometimes get messed up by the sheer amount of cytoplasm and chloroplast between targets. A moment later, a voice cleared his throat, and the chief was on.
"Right – Okay, you guys listening?" Out of sheer habit and not accessibility to the chief, they mumbled yes. Answers from that many transceivers would just mess up Kazaf's side, so it's tuned down so that he could only receive the barest of sounds. The voice allowed a space of time, and then it was back on. It was kind of hard for them to calm down and act like adults when the chief wasn't there to keep them in line, unfortunately. "Right, I can't hear you guys properly, but I'm going to take that as a yes anyway."
"You think we're going to have to move into the forest?" Ema asked him with a slight frown. "Because I hadn't brought my gun, and you Forensics don't have one."
Nail shrugged. He isn't big on guns. Guns is a Daryan thing, and if he tried to shoot one, he'll break more than a shoulder, just like Machi Tobaye. Oh, and it wouldn't hit, because Nail has two left eyes the way some dancers have two left feet. Causes him great helpings of grief in the lab. If it's any consolation though, dancing's more useful than shooting but...Shrug. Dancing isn't going to save his life in this case, and it wouldn't need to.
"Forensics are only here to wipe up the mess, not cause it." He announced jokingly. "And don't worry hmm? I can always act as a human meat shield, if nothing else."
She rolled her eyes and chucked a soaked snackoo at him.
"...So let's go over it, since some of you guys weren't here for the last case. After Block Aurum, Kristoph Gavin escaped the place. Why, I don't think I need to tell you guys – because most of you were the ones who upheld that miserable blockade that allowed him to escape. But I'm not here to point fingers..."
"...And well, now he's here. Somewhere in that forest, most likely – since we've been tipped off on it. And before you guys start it again, no – the tip off isn't from me. Kristoph's hiding somewhere in that forest, and we're going to block it off again – just like in Aurum."
"Oh come on!" Someone burst out.
An angry roar went up amongst the officers, and most muttered furiously at the transceiver, as though that was their chief for real and the fist they were shaking at it could transcend space time to whack him soundly on the forehead. There went their plans for Saturday night out. This is going to take up God knows how long, and everyone is just miserable and tired and want to go home and crawl under the covers after a warm bath.
Rainy days had a way of making people drowsy, and Nail couldn't say he disagreed with them.
Most of the guys here had been out on the streets the entire day, looking first for Daryan, then hunting down the folks who had cornered Lamiroir in the theater. The rest had been running about preparing for this, and no one's exactly in the green HP zone. The berries were looking short on supply too, from the way everyone looks haggard.
"We're going to do this like Aurum again? Isn't once enough?"
"Why can't we go and shoot the guy in the head?"
"What's so special about this guy? He spurts silver nano blood or something? Jeez."
This went on for a long moment, before the transceiver crackled angrily. "Are you guys done yet? What's with the ruckus?"
Someone gestured at the rest to shut it, and he raised the transceiver to answer back at Devereux. With only one of it transmitting, the signal would be clearer and would get across. At least, in theory.
"Sir, I think I speak for all of us when I say – that's just dumb. We outnumber this guy at least a hundred and fifty million to one, so why are we standing around like scarecrows?"
"Because this isn't war, you fool," Came the snap. "We're not here to play 'minimum casualty' games. We're here to play no casualty games – and I don't care if you guys outnumber him a hundred and fifty to zero point five – if we go in, someone might get shot at. Someone might shoot him, and he'll shoot back – and then it's Halo all over again."
"But we're here to arrest him!" A neighbouring policeman complained.
"Arrest, not murder. Just because you guys are gathered around like some five hundred million blockbuster movie doesn't make you guys the SWAT. We're not dealing with a terrorist, we're just dealing with a normal guy. And the only reason why there's so many of you is because I want it to be foolproof."
Someone grumbled loudly at the word 'fool', but the kid pressed on anyway.
"Now that we've established that no one is going to shoot anyone else – let's establish what we are going to do. You guys are going to cut off the entire forest from the field. Form a line around the border of the forest – shouldn't be that hard, considering it's practically a clean cut – and stay there."
"What about the other side of the forest?" Someone asked.
"What about it?"
"He can escape from the other side, can't he?"
Nail looked at cliff, and shook his head to himself. Ema munched on a snackoo thoughtfully, and announced to the other members of the Forensics, answering for Kazaf. "I don't think so, you know. Saw the map once, and I think it's...One side exits into the forest, and the other side is just this cliff – where we have a dozen cars parked down here to impale him right into rigor mortis."
"...But the north side leaves to the peak," Someone protested. "West's the field, east and south's the cliff – but isn't the peak on the north?"
Another guy in a muddy white coat scowled up at the highest point of the mountains, where it ended with rock crags and sharp precipice plunging straight into the rougher parts of Eagle River – not that you can see it from this side without having consult a map.
"I don't think so, not unless he got climbing equipment with him or a death wish. The place's like an exploded Fuji up close. Tiny rock styled mountain. You'll sooner get your leg stuck on something than survive."
The Forensics boys agreed with a vehement unanimous nod, and turned back to the crowd, where Devereux had been busy explaining just about the same thing as them.
"...The only way logically out is through the field. He can climb the mountain, but it ends in crags and the only thing Gavin's going to be doing there is fall a million miles below."
"So what, we're just going to stop him from leaving?"
"Yeap. That's the main idea. Trap him like a bunny and he'll come out given time."
"But chief! That's going to take forever!"
Kazaf ignored the outburst, and as usual, his temper is ever on boiling point. "...So like I was saying, we're going to block the place off, and we're going to wait. WAIT, do you hear me? He can't stay in there forever – he'll run out of food eventually or just get bored making sandcastles. There aren't any ways out. It's one side down a cliff, one side into us, and one side up a hill that only has a river sixty miles down waiting to eat him up whole. We're going to do this WHITE FLAG style. You're going to round up the place, and you're going to sit there like ducks in shifts until he comes out."
The officers started muttering furiously, divided amongst themselves. Some were just glad that they don't have to go in there and face some kind of mad lone ranger. These are divided into two too – those who are just scared and lazy, or those who are worried that someone's going to get hurt. Then there are some who just wants to get it over with, like bad homework – and go home and eat hotpots with their wives and kids. Oh, and get that extra raise too.
Drifts could be heard from the transceiver, and Nail smirked at it.
"That's not the way to do it, Kaz...You're going to...Start a strike..."
"Pah! Edible Jellyfishes!"
"Just hand me that..."
A moment later, the voice of Klavier Gavin floated back through the transceiver. The rain, as though in clear admiration of this, had dried up for a little while, going unnoticed in the throng. Even five hundred miles away on a hilltop and a chilling car, it's obvious that the force is agitated. You don't need a transceiver to send anything back and tell you that, it's common sense.
"Achtung, gentlemen?"
They paused long enough to listen to him.
"Well, you heard what the chief said. We mustn't rush in like fools. Fools rush in where the Engel fear to tread – that is the saying, nein? I wouldn't want any of you guys to get hurt, ja?" He paused for effect, as it sunk in that yes, Klavier Gavin is worried about YOU. YOU there. Yes, YOU. He's worried about YOU. Don't you suddenly feel all warm and fuzzy inside?
He resumed five seconds later. "I think that about sums up our briefing – we'll be in our outpost for a little longer, but we'll be joining you soon. In the mean time, do as he says and get into formation across the edge of the forest and set up camp there, because we'll be here for quite some time yet. You all received the orders, you all brought the equipment, ja? I know it's troublesome, but treat it like a camping trip for the cops' association or something – because we're going to be here for a long long time."
Chief Devereux's voice interrupted with a sniff. "Set the rest camp up around half a mile away from the forest edge. I don't want it too close, and don't light it up like a firefly for God's sake. People who are done with their shift may return home to rest unless otherwise notified – and anyone who gets hurt can go in there and cry like a baby. Oh. And no peeing in the river – the Hazakura woman will get on my case again."
"What he said," Klavier quipped.
Beside him, Ema muttered under her breath. "Glimmerous fop – annoying in all distances..."
Nail just smiled. Somewhere down the line, someone asked. "What about if he retaliates? What if the guy comes out and starts a-shooting, do we shoot him back or try to neutralize him?"
Here there's a pause, and you can almost see the two exchanging glances somewhere up in the hills. Good question folks, but what would the answer be? Tune in next time for the answer!
"Uh..." Kazaf said hesitantly. He clearly wasn't sure exactly what to say on the topic with Klavier one foot away. It's not his decision to make anyway, when it comes to shooting or not. It's Klavier's. It's Klavier's brother after all, and it's his decision to make – his decision on where to draw the line of his little betrayal. At the intermission of voices, Nail felt sorry for Klavier. Maybe he should have gotten here earlier and joined them or something – God knows that guy would need a pat on the back after all this crap, and with Apollo not being here and everything.
"Um..." The hesitant voice came again, before - "Klavier?"
"H-Huh?"
"Uh – the question."
"Oh. I mean, ach. J-Ja. Well, if Kristoph comes out and starts shooting at you guys – not that he would, because he's not some kind of violent madman, and he most definitely won't come out like that and shoot at you guys" Here he started talking rapidly, like someone was accusing him and he was refuting it all. "—but if he does – and I'm using this term loosely because, achtung – violence is a subjective thing, ja? But if he does..." Klavier trailed off helplessly. You can almost see his face hanging in midair, looking confused and slightly puzzled, a quizzical frown on the forehead, as though he's sleepwalking and can't quite believe himself.
"--But if he does,...If my brother – that is to say, our target...If he leaves the forest and shows signs of hostility instead of surrender, if we, how do you say it - auf Widerstand stoßen – meet with resistance, then..."
A few of the lab technicians exchanged startled glances. Last they had seen, Prosecutor Gavin had been denying that his brother was anything short of the harmless mark.
"If he does...If he really does that...Then I guess you can- you're allowed to--" And at this, Klavier's voice cracked a little. "I guess you're allowed to shoot him back." He said finally. "Ach! I'm not saying he's going to, but if he does...If he does...And I'm not saying he will because he won't, there's no way he will, not normally, and not really now and yes – he wouldn't do something like that - but if he does...If he does...Then you guys will have to... Defend yourselves, ja? Will have to...Shoot him back. "
The transceiver crackled the moment the last syllable floated out, and it was obvious as heck to anyone – but most of all Nail because he knew the guy like the back of his hand – that he had just thrust the transceiver back to Kazaf and ran off to get miserably angry at himself for failing in such a public performance, then miserably miserable at everything else. The thing is, Klavier's never had to do anything like this before – never had to commit the crime of being traitorous with careful planning.
With Daryan – not that could really be considered betrayal from a normal person's point of view, considering that Daryan really had done it. But then again, it's always a little different when you throw emotion into the blender. With Daryan – it had been a spur of a moment thing. Oh sure, the trial dragged on for hours, but it's mostly a gut reaction thing. Somewhere along the act he realized it was really all that – an act – and he turns around to help Apollo out and convict the right guy. You don't need to think – or at least think it out that thoroughly.
In a moment's decision, it's all very clear. He's the wrong guy. You convict wrong guys. Given time, maybe Klavier would have thought of the band, or maybe their friendship, or maybe just the general unwillingness to believe that he would attempt such a thing. Somewhere down the drain, Klavier would have convinced himself that it was impossible – but he hadn't had that time, and he had served the lovely dish called justice. An hour-long gut reaction perhaps, but still bowel in it's origin.
But now, with Kristoph, it's not a court thing. It's not a trial thing, where you just stand up and go – YOU ARE WRONG! It's a days-long thing, and it's something that you have to deliberate over. And chances are, Nail thought, the more he deliberated over it, the more it will hurt. Thoughts of better times, thoughts of lovely sibling bonds.
Thoughts.
If only people think more, then things might have ended up different for every story, eh? Romeo certainly wouldn't have homicide himself if he had thought more. Then Juliet would have woken up and they would have lived happily ever after, instead of draping themselves all over stones for birds to peck out.
Even though the urge struck him as ridiculous in this situation– he still wished he was at least there for a pat on Klavier's back. Kazaf wouldn't do it. He wouldn't understand something like guilt, because he had long since snipped that part off his internal algorithm. It's something sad to see in a child, but without it, he seemed more like an old man than a child. No, Kazaf would be anything but consolation, and Klavier's way too far away for Nail to be any help.
Still, it never hurts anyone to send off some goodwill beams. The transceiver crackled agreeably in answer, and a moment later, the kid resumed speaking.
"Well...You guys heard him," He said quietly. "Let's go, and don't act rashly, okay? We're winning this fight either way, so there's no for any of you guys to rush in. And...Yeah. That's it. Let's begin, shall we?"
The transceiver crackled, sizzled, then like a warm potato - went from green to red. The whole force was quiet for a moment as they looked at each other, not sure what had just happened and not sure if the silence, so sacred, should be broken.
Soon though, somewhere down the line someone moved, acted, grabbed for the rolled-ups, and suddenly everyone is moving again. It's creepy to see so many people moving and doing things, but making so little sound in the process.
It's like when Nail drops in on crime scenes. There will be a million officers around, but the place will be solemn and quiet like well – like a funeral. Gloomy and morbid, but that's the only thing the silence can be compared with, and he watched with equal silence as the officers begin to pack up what they need and slowly move to elevate themselves to the field up there. Even the drizzle came back to haunt the place.
"I guess we'll be staying here for a long long time," Ema said. Her bag of snackoos was getting thoroughly soaked, but she didn't look like she even noticed. She handed Nail one. He took it.
"Yes, a long long time, I believe."
Ema turned around, where the Forensics guys were already getting their things ready. Clippers? Check. Plastic bags? Check. Coats to look awesome? Check, but muddy. Alright people – we have the yellow tapes, so we can go.
"Shall we go?"
"One second." Nail ordered, stalking back to his own car. He opened the car boot and retrieved a whole six pack of beers from it. It weighed a ton, and Nail isn't exactly the world's most amazing muscles – but he dragged the whole thing with him anyway.
"What's that for?" Ema asked suspiciously, looking at the green cans.
"For a friend," Nail answered. "Trust me. Before this is over, he's going to need many of these."
Kristoph retreated from the cliff the moment the speech was over, removing himself from the sharp and craggy edge of the place. He had moved backwards earlier – when that man at the tree had looked directly up and scowled at him – almost like he had seen him right there. But then the little...Show, from his brother and the oh-so-lovely chief of police had diverted the man's attention as well as most of the force's and he's back to the edge again. As least the man hadn't been the screaming kind. The last thing he needed would be someone taking potshots at him with a rifle – which judging from the looks of these bunch of people, isn't exactly an extremely far stretch of the imagination.
Thank goodness the dozen or so transceivers from a dozen or so police cars had magnified the whole thing so much that you'd have to be deaf not to hear it in such quiet surroundings. And interesting it has definitely proven itself to be, no? Thank goodness too, for brotherly affection like Klavier's. What was it that he had said? Oh yes, it's okay to shoot at Kristoph. How nice. Though he supposed he shouldn't blame his brother – he is on the side of justice after all, and if justice is clamoring for his blood, his brother would be too.
That at least, is what the logical part is saying. That is Klavier's job after all, to banish evildoers the way exorcists banished non-existent ghosts and the way charlatans banished common sense. Kristoph is nothing but a person that has escaped the law, and the law likes nothing better than to have him back and swallow him whole. So naturally, his brother would take the side of justice, no matter what he himself thinks. Knowing what Klavier is like, he'd probably have spun an impossibly Cinderella ending for all of them too. But he doesn't fault his brother – a job is a job is a job.
That's what the logical part is saying.
The illogical part had gotten so angry five minutes ago that if it had been a circuit, it would have shorted itself. Certainly it had completely shut down to stop Kristoph from going up in a senseless rage, replacing that burning desire to blow a very large hole in Klavier with the dull, happy feeling of a surge of brain morphine. That feeling is now replaced by a somewhat calmer version of pure wrath.
Make it a hat trick eh, Klavier?
When Kristoph had first seen the white specks over the horizon while sitting pensively near the cliff and staring out and away into the horizontal line where the skies meet the city in a dazzling sparkle – he had thought it was a hallucination. Just another thing that he's seeing that isn't there. Those are pretty bad – but not so bad anymore as they had been when he had been back in Apollo's abode. Something about hunger sharpens your mind, like rock to steel. Not that he didn't have any food – he stored enough in the Ford to last for a pretty long time, especially with his less than ideal eating habits.
No, it's just something he does because he doesn't particularly feel like eating. He's just here to wait until everything blows over after all, not on some kind of solo camping trip to find himself – though Kristoph had expected exactly that when he had arrived here. The place is so quiet and so lonely that you can't help having internal monologues and think about serious, life-changing philosophies. Because the alternative is to listen to crickets cry and insects chirp. Not exactly a conducive environment for mental breeding – but that had been exactly what Kristoph expected when he headed up here, and he had expected it to last – for as long as he wanted.
No one was suppose to be able to find him.
No one was suppose to even know.
But here he is, staring at the bald faced look of something that smells strangely like a betrayal, looking at the dozens of police officers crawling about in the dark like the little slimy things that they are, not beautiful at all against the beauty that is the moonlight. No, they're all here – and there has to be a reason why. Because Kristoph believes in many things these days, but that doesn't include coincidences like this . No matter how deteriorated his mental faculties are, that much will always remain at least – the cynical bits.
Kazaf is not a genius. He's not particularly stupid, but he's not God. He doesn't read minds and he doesn't predict the future. He doesn't play with Ouija boards and have the answers spelled out to him, nor does he have the kind of genius Damon Gant had for weeding out criminals with demonic accuracy. For him to be able to pinpoint his location with such atrocious precision meant that something is at work here that is not to Kristoph's liking.
Either Lord Spore sent down a heavenly decree, or the Pokedex - it has been at work. Oh, or it could be that someone betrayed his location the police.
His choices, it is obvious.
Then the little speech cackled away, like a gloating man with a long chin – and it all falls into place.
Klavier should have known better. Really. What had he done wrong in bringing up the boy, that he has to go around and practice this kind of habit? It never once occurred to Kristoph that it might have been someone else – like say Apollo – who had helped pinpoint his precise location. Or maybe he did but his mind is adamant not to give it due recognition. Because if he believed that in addition to Klavier's betrayal, Apollo had gone and done it again too – he would be left with nothing, and no one on his side. No, it's better to just blame it on someone more accessible – like Klavier because he had basically admitted to it down there, and Kazaf, because he's lurking behind all demises anyway – than to admit to something that might be potentially true.
Ho-hum.
Kristoph left the cliff after a final look at the officers. They were buzzing about now, taking up things and working through the night like little termites– even though they were as silent as specters. In an hour or two – make it three because this is the PD and prone to procrastination – they would be swarming around the entrance to the forest. They'll form a blockade – much like the one in Apollo's apartment, which will be prove to be utterly redundant, because there are a thousand things a person can do in here to get away.
Find another path out of the place, that is obvious. Oh, and you can always find a nice thick vine to loop around a tree branch. But that's quite morbid, and Kristoph isn't quite devastated enough to contemplate such things like death. He was rather amused by this whole game actually, this whole cat-and-mouse thing that had gotten the whole PD out here looking for him, but not daring to do anything because their chief wants his prize bird unharmed, and because – not that he would ever admit it – because the child has a hoarding complex where he can't stand losing things that belonged to him – even subordinates.
Silly little brat.
But yes, it was amusing because he – that is to say Kristoph Gavin – has brought the entire force running like a dog on a leash. Everywhere he goes, they hound him like a dog to a bone, and even though it was annoying and irksome, it was nonetheless pure entertainment. Oh, to think that so many is out here seeking him...Hah! Besides, it's not like they would ever be able to catch him, not now, not ever, because...
Thank you, Zak Gramarye. You have truly taught me what it is like for a fish to walk upon the firmament.
He smiled as he made his way back to the Ford and moved it all the way deeper into the forest. The car itself contained enough food to last for quite the time, as he said – and if they won't move in to get him, then it wouldn't make sense for them to find the car either. As long as he had food, he could play this little game of theirs, bidding his time and waiting until Kazaf's temperament reaches melting point. Then...Who knows? Maybe they would move in, maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they would come down like a ton of bricks, or maybe Kristoph would have found a way out of this before that happened.
In the meantime though...It started drizzling again, and the moon soon got clouded off by the rain clouds. The sound of insects disappeared as they each hurried off towards home – the same kind of home that Kristoph sort of lacks at the moment.
Quietly, he slipped out of the car and leaned against it, folding his arms and looking up at the sky.
Five hundred million miles above or what felt like it, Kazaf watched the first vestige of the PD drifting into the field from the small convoluted pathways that winded up higher and into the fields. You can barely see them from up here – they're just tiny dots of humans that makes you feel sort of pathetic, because that's what ants usually are sized at – but they're visible to him all the same. They're assembling, just as being told.
Behind him, Klavier is stuck on an edge, staring down at the river that rolls about behind Eagle mountain. The river snakes all the way in front, but here it's thicker and rougher, like the neck of a wrestler to the thin cruelty of a witch's finger downstream. It reflected nothing, because there's nothing up there in the sky to reflect anymore – except maybe Klavier now, because he was staring at it so intently that it's a wonder his blue eyes aren't reflected in the water.
Kazaf ignored him and turned back to the field-watching. Klavier's sob story is not for him to analyze. His shoulder is not his to pat. That can wait until Nail comes along with a friendly arm around the shoulder, or Apollo arrives like his knight in shining armor, because he doesn't understand that kind of justification. It makes him uncomfortable to be speaking with people with such great ideals and such great conflicts and so justifiable an inner turmoil, because his own reasons are always so much pettier beside theirs.
He snapped the binoculars to maximum zooming, and watched the officers again. They're drifting in like camels now, one by one in a single file up the path. Some are struggling with heavier stuff, and you can see it being thrown upwards like a sack of potatoes. Yeap, they're working flawlessly alright, and it's about time they head down there too. If he's going to have to keep the guys there for a week at least, he's going to have to put up an appearance to cheer them up. Or rather, Klavier Gavin will have to.
Kazaf gestured at Gumshoe, and the man came running.
"Sir?" He asked.
"Anything we've left, pack it up. We're heading down to join the bunch of them."
"You got it, pal!"
Gumshoe hurried off, and Kazaf turned to face Klavier instead.
"Come on. We gotta go if we're gonna make it – you can mop later."
Klavier didn't answer, just staring down at the river. Maybe he's wondering what it'll be like for a cold swim?
"Gavin?"
Klavier looked up.
"Let's go."
He nodded and straightened himself, dusting off his hands. He walked towards the car obediently, stopping only when Kazaf interrupted him.
"Gavin, are you sure you're okay? You look kinda weirded out."
Klavier shrugged helplessly. "It's already established, ja?" He looked kind of confused – just like Nail would have pointed out if he had been there – like a rabbit caught in the act of eating lettuce with a torchlight and not quite sure if he should be startled or not. "Just caught my by surprise, that's all. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can finish this story of ours."
Kazaf nodded. That's a topic best left alone. There's no point in beating the proverbial horse to death, then beating the dead right into dust. There's nothing to be angsty about – they're all united in one thing and one thing alone. Moving on. Klavier wants to move on by moving his brother out of the way. Apollo allows it because he realizes that the only path forward is that way. And Kazaf wanted Kristoph out of the way, preferably with a bang, so that he can spend the rest of his life in jail, chatting over swimming sessions with Damon Gant about the good old days as chief, knowing he's done something 'right' at least.
Chalk it right up there with things he doesn't understand please.
They got into the car, and Gumshoe into the driver's seat. Klavier sat at the back while Kazaf had to crawl from the back seat to the front because the front door had been smashed up when Gumshoe ran into a car earlier. He could just sit at the back of course, but he had stuff in front – and they rode the whole journey in muted silence. Klavier's heart started pounding faster for no real reason as they roll down the hill and towards camp. End's almost in sight.
Even though it'll be god knows how long before they found Kristoph, he can't help thinking that – end's almost in sight – and it made him slightly anticipatory. No, it wasn't the hunt. It was...The match. It's back to the way it was suppose to be back in the first trial again – it's back to him versus his brother. Sure, the odds are on him, this time but then that never once stopped his brother, and it wasn't about to stop him now. It's like standing in court again, except the battlefield's turned into the forest and the field for real this time.
Kazaf wasn't privy to the internal monologue though, and the silent journey ended half an hour later when Gumshoe pulled up the battered car on the field and Kazaf crawled out the way he came in, depositing himself onto the wet field, both legs first. A couple of guys drifting by nodded in acknowledgment of him and Klavier and they nodded back. The next couple of persons to head up to them they didn't nod at though – but then that's because they're Nail and Ema.
"Hey," Klavier greeted, waving lightly. "How've you guys been—OW!"
A snackoo had went flying onto his head.
"What was that for!?" He complained.
"You were being way too glimmerous in your speech," She announced.
"Yes, that he is," Kazaf added sagely – before he got pelted by one too. "What was that for? I wasn't glimmerous in any way!"
"You were being old," Ema rolled her eyes at him. Kazaf grumbled and turned to Nail instead.
"What's the chemical equation for these snackoos, Colfin? I'm going to use them to construct my next pipe bomb, seriously."
But Nail wasn't looking at him, he was deliberately avoiding Klavier's eyes for some reason, hopping from foot to foot awkwardly.
"What was the question again?" He blinked.
"Never mind," Kazaf pursed his lips. He felt like asking him 'What's eating you, jeez?' - but that would just demote him to the mental faculties of his age peers, so he didn't. "Well, since we're all gathered here – how are things, Skye?"
"It looks pretty good to me," She commented. And indeed it did, the way they were erecting the tents and stuff. The PD can be efficient when they want to, just not often does it occur. "I think they'll span the whole place in an hour or so."
"Brilliant," He mouthed. "Those tents look kinda flimsy though. Didn't I tell them to take the solid ones?"
"Exactly how long do you plan to be here?" She asked him.
Kazaf merely shrugged. "Honestly? I wouldn't count on leaving under a week."
And they didn't.
Klavier's advice turned out to be useful, because indeed it turned out like a massive camping trip that involved all of the PD. Activities were halted in the normal course of things, and they operated on shifts. As long as there were people peppering the area every thirty feet or so, the chief was happy, and the men got by by willing the day away staring at the forest blankly. It was a torturous existence, and they learned to cope by clumping into tiny groups like blood clots to play poker or solitaire.
Just because they weren't verbal on it didn't meant that resentment didn't ran high. In society, there are two kinds of people. There are laid back people, and then there are high strung people. Sure, horoscopes and zodiacs tell you otherwise, but when you break people down, eventually they're either one or the other. It's the same everywhere, and the PD is no different. On the first night, the line, which the officers had jokingly nicknamed the Garrison, had been established, with most being the former.
Once the stuff were all set up to allow the people guarding the area to be pretty well settled, half the officers were allowed to go – to be called back later on another shift.
The tents actually made them apprehensive though – exactly how long did the chief plan to stick them here, guarding the place like this? At any given time there were about twenty to thirty officers – not really that many considering the length of area they had to span. But the general consensus, and the question that kept popping up was still ' Is this necessary?'. And to tell the truth, no one can quite answer one way or another.
They knew the guy's dangerous, and they know the chief doesn't want to risk anyone on something that they would win either way – but still, would they really get hurt if they just walk in there? The forest is pretty damn big, and it's easy to hide in there – but surely if they all went in together no one would get hurt, right? So why not just go in like blockbuster movies and swoop the guy out? Entertainment had given them a deluded and exaggerated idea of their own capabilities, and so the feeling continuously reigned in the air that they were wasting their time, playing cat-and-mouse like this.
On the next day, April the fourteenth, the sentiment was about the same. Let's just all watch this play out. Some weird Forensic's guy popped by to kidnap a sample of trees for 'scientific' reasons, but that was about all that was interesting. Then Klavier Gavin showed up with the chief and the forensics guy again later on that night, and they had been standing around this corner of the Garrison when a man suddenly walked up and asked Nail Colfin for his autograph.
Nail had blinked at him like he was a fool, and had even looked around to see if Klavier had materialized behind him. But no, Klavier was a full ten feet backwards.
"Me?" He had asked the man.
The man nodded vehemently, muttering something about being a fan. Obligingly, Nail signed the outstretched piece of paper - and then a moment later, Klavier signed it too. That was rare. Certainly, he had signed reports far more often than he signed autographs, mostly because well, let's face it - they're not the ones the fangirls usually mob, and he had stood there blinking like a moron for a full ten seconds.
"What are you so stunned about?" Klavier had grumbled. "You act like you've forgotten how to be a rock star."
Nail merely shrugged, and grinned continuously like a specimen of retarded homosapien. Yes, he had forgotten how to be one, too bothered about his own dilemma to remember. But then that's the time to lament about this sort of thing, so he quickly toss it aside with a quickly uttered excuse. He couldn't quite wipe the grin off his face though - it just reminded him of the old times too much for him to just wipe it off like that.
April the fifteenth, and a few could be seen milling about angrily near the edge of the forest. This is not what they signed up for – standing about here like wooden sentries. Out in the sticks. They can't even shit without having to literally dig a hole, because the nearest toilet is miles away. And shyeah, the nun is pretty damned hot, but what the hell – she's a nun, dammit! And there's nothing to see for miles around here!
Gumshoe showed up for the day, and for the first time in his life, exercised awesome control over the unruly bunch. Morale seems to be up for the moment.
The next day, some disappeared from the line and went fishing down at the river.
The next day again, and they got into one hell of trouble because some bastard rat them out to the department head. A couple of them got into trouble, and morale as a general thing spelled boredom. Everyone's bored. They want to do something, not just stand around like this. Something, something, anything.
And then on April the eighteenth, a couple of them decided to do something after all - about the existence called Kristoph Gavin.
Oh God, finally. The end can be seen.
[Edit : Due to unforeseen circumstances (Read : POKEMON POKEMON POKEMON), this author has gone to pla-- Uh, be creative and productive. Update will be late, sry D: ]