Torque had never realised how nice a pillow her scaled forearm made, but to be fair, everything feels like a nice pillow when you're running off nothing more than an hour of sleep and two straight black coffees. The trip to work was as slow as usual, and after pulling into the small parking lot neighbouring Chimera HQ, Torque quickly found herself sinking down into the clutches of her steering wheel, more than ready to finally give her eyes the rest she's been craving since Whisper's call woke her up in the early hours of the morning.
But her second of respite quickly trickled into minutes, and while she could feel herself slowly slipping into a much needed sleep, the exhausted Viper made no real effort to stop it. The soft rock music drifting from her car radio slowly grew further and further away, the muffled construction work from the next block over fading away into the wind for a few seconds of tranquility, only for a sudden knock on the driver's side window to tear it all back in an instant.
"Ha! You should've seen your face," Terminal chuckled, the teasing grin beaming on the woman's face partially hidden behind the condensation that blanketed her car windows.
"Shut up," she hissed, rubbing her brow before reaching for the now lukewarm coffee sitting in the nearby cup holder. She brought it up for a sip, but a quick flick of the tongue made her reconsider, returning the paper cup to the centre console with yet another annoyed hiss. "Tell me the time."
"About ten past six last time I checked," she replied, giving the roof of her car a tap. "Time to rise and shine, Torque."
She replied with nothing more than a grunt, turning the engine off as she returned her head to her hands, allowing a moment for the outside world to stop hammering at her head.
Terminal was gone by the time she peeked up once more, and with one last stretch of her hood, she threw the car door open, discarding her coffee over the pavement as she glanced up at the brick building looming overhead, less than ready to start yet another long and boring workday.
She locked her car with a tap of her wristchip as she slithered towards the HQ, a wall of warm air washing over her as she pushed through the metal doors and into the building's main foyer, their resident Canadian greeting her with an awkward wave from the operations centre above.
"I'm actually going to kill you," she said, crossing her arms as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. "Like... actually, physically, kill you."
"Hey, come on, it was important!" he said with feigned confidence as he leant against the railing, a Chimera Squad branded thermos in his hands. "This is the first terrorist activity the city has seen since 2040."
She rolled her eyes, dropping her arms back by her side as she continued towards the stairs. "You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel with this one, you know that?"
Whisper ignored her quip, stepping back from the railing and joining the rest of the morning team huddled around the map table. "I've got quite the solid theory going off of what Verge told me."
"He's been waiting for you to get here before cluing us all in," Terminal spoke up as Torque climbed the stairs, both Verge and Patchwork acknowledging her with a wave and a nod as she reached the top. "With all this hype, it better be some revelation, Whisper."
"Well, I wouldn't call it a revelation," he said, backpedaling on his confidence as he took a seat at his desk. "But all that stuff about tapes and games and puppets and torturous traps… there's just no denying the connection."
"Just spit it out already," Torque hissed as she joined the rest of the agents, the digital map on the wall flickering over to a mirrored image of Whisper's desktop as he opened a blank intranet browser.
"Give me a second to get it up. Intranet connection has always been slow in this part of the city."
He drummed his fingers against the keyboard, leaning back in his desk chair as he took a sip of his drink. It didn't take long before the spinning circle on the screen gave way to a rather lacklustre page depicting various pre-ADVENT movie posters, ' Reclamation Film Archive - 2000s' featured at the top of the screen in big, bold letters.
"Please don't tell me you called us all in here to watch movies," Terminal said.
"No, no, of course not… well… kind of, but it's important! I promise."
Torque rolled her eyes, turning from the crowd and eyeing the exit on the far side of the room. "Whatever. I'm going home to—"
"Wait, I found it, it's up!" He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, bringing everyone's attention to the monitor as flashes of a woman with a rather rudimentary metal trap fixed to her head flashed across the screen, Whisper's rapid scrolling making it difficult to decipher much of anything.
Torque shot Whisper a look, and judging by the reactions of the rest of her squad, she wasn't the only one dumbfounded by what exactly it was that Whisper was trying to show them.
"I'm... not sure I'm following here," Patchwork spoke up, adjusting her glasses.
"Just… see! It's—no, wait, I scrolled too far." He rolled the video back, another silent second passing before he finally hit play on the keyboard. An old CRT came to life behind the human on the screen, Torque's brow furrowing as the camera panned in on a puppet no different from the one on the tape at the crime scene.
"Hello Amanda," the puppet said. "You don't know me, but I know you. I want to play a game."
"See! It's the same puppet from your tape, right?" Whisper said, spinning his chair around to the squad to gauge everyone's reactions. "...Please tell me it's the same puppet."
"It's the same puppet," Verge stated. "Same mannerisms and editing style, too. Interesting indeed."
"What are you even showing us?" Torque asked. "More crime scene footage?"
"No, no, it's just a movie. Stuff humans used to watch for entertainment."
"You used to watch… this for entertainment?"
"Well, yeah! I mean, no, it's more like… you know…" He trailed off, waving his hand at the screen in an attempt to put across a point he never made. "We're getting off topic. What I'm trying to say is that our killer is a copycat. Some Jigsaw wannabe that's trying—"
"Sorry, Jigsaw?" Terminal butted in.
"Jigsaw. The killer from the movie. Although he technically never kills people, the traps he designs and puts them in do, and he always gives them a way to escape."
"But he puts them in the trap?" Verge replied.
"Well, yeah…"
"And designed these traps with the intent to harm?"
"He does…"
"Then that is still pre-meditated, first degree murder, even if he implements a method of escape."
"Negligent homicide at best," Terminal added.
"That's still beyond the point!" Whisper said. "What I'm trying to say is that the guy you're looking for is a copycat. Someone with the means and the will to turn fiction into reality."
"And this helps us how exactly?" Torque asked.
"By giving us a motive… or at least our best guess at a motive," he replied. "Movie Jigsaw targets people that have taken their lives for granted, right? Puts them through these tests to see if they have the will to survive. What if our guy's doing the same? Putting someone—in this case, a former terrorist—that isn't grateful for their life through a trap to see if they have the will to live or not."
"Again—this helps us how exactly?"
"I don't think that Adder is going to be the last victim, is what I'm trying to say," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But if we know the killer's motive, if we know how they think, then we're going to have a much easier time finding them before they can strike again."
"There were those blueprints pinned in the killer's workshop, blueprints designed for more body types than just an Adder." Terminal replied, shooting Verge a knowing look.
"Two for either a human or a Hybrid, one for a Sectoid, one for a Muton, and one more for either a Viper or one of their subspecies," Verge added, his eyes unmoving from the movie on the monitor.
"You seem to know an awful lot about these films," Patchwork said.
"What can I say? I had heaps of time on my hands back during the war. The Saw franchise in particular was always a favourite of mine."
Torque peered at the screen, raising a brow as the woman took a scalpel to the stomach of a man, blood splattering over her hands as the camera flashed rapidly from one angle to the next.
"Right..." she trailed off, crossing her arms.
"Anyway!" the Canadian spoke up, clapping his hands together. "This was more of a... hunch I just wanted to bring up. Something for you all to consider. Torque—that Adder's workplace, Wynn Cargo 31… what are you planning to do once you get there?"
"What do you think?" she replied. "Go in, ask questions, snoop around. It wasn't like anyone had any better ideas."
"Good enough for me," he replied, clicking open a handful of uninteresting documents on his screen. "Verge told me about the whole Wynn Cargo thing when he got here, so I went ahead and did a little digging on the place while I was waiting. Their records state that a Muton named Sue was our victim's manager, so she'd probably be the best place to start. She gets in around six thirty today, so that should leave you a bit of time to get over there and figure out how you're going to approach this whole thing," he replied.
"Hey, no, wait, this was meant to be a... next week thing, not a now thing."
"Well, I've already gone ahead and arranged for our 31PD contacts to meet us there," he replied. "Would be rude to cancel now."
"Oh, great, cops. Like it can't get any worse."
"It is their investigation, Torque. We're simply helping out here. Besides, having an organisation that's a bit more… official on the scene would be an immense help with any legal matters," he replied. "I think it'll be best if we only send two of you out. We're only there for questions. I'd rather not crowd the place."
"And let me guess, I'm going to be one of them?"
"It… was your idea, Torque," he replied. "Now that only leaves the question of who'll be accompanying—"
"I'll go," Terminal spoke up, raising her hand. "I'll admit, this case has hooked me. It's not everyday I get to tag along on some classic murder mystery."
"There we have it then," Whisper replied, taking a sip of his thermos. "Torque and Terminal, they're expecting you down there by six thirty. Rest of you, I'm sure there's something that needs to be done around here."
"Well, you heard him," Terminal said, flashing Torque a smile as she backed away towards the stairs. "Let's go. You can drive."
"Your car wasn't fitted with Viper controls last time I checked," she said. "You're driving."
"You're right, it's not," she replied. "But yours is."
"Who says we're taking my car?"
"Uh, me, on account of you not even being able to fit in my car," she replied with a sly smile as the two of them made their way across the HQ floor. "Besides, my car's at the mechanics. Verge gave me a lift in."
For a moment she didn't respond, taking a moment to rack her head for any alternatives before letting out an annoyed scoff. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't touch my stuff."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Terminal pushed through the backdoor, holding it open behind her for a few seconds to allow her new companion through before the two of them walked shoulder to shoulder across the parking lot, Torque's silver coupe letting out a beep as she pressed a claw to her wristchip.
"Do you at least know where we're going? Because I don't," Torque said, taking a brief glance at the garbage strewn across her car as she opened the driver's side door.
"Nope," she replied, opening the passenger's side door. "I'll look it up on my datapad. Just start driving out towards Switchyard. Shouldn't be too hard to find."
Torque coiled herself down into the driver's side seat, starting the engine as Terminal climbed in beside her, kicking aside an empty bottle of Viper-approved alcohol as she stretched her feet out in the tailwell.
"Classy ride, Torque."
"Shut up," she hissed as she pulled out of her parking spot, beginning her crawl towards the quiet streets ahead.
This part of the district was always light on traffic this time of day, the torn-up streets occupied only by industrial trucks and delivery vans of various shapes and colours. It was only when they traveled further north through Riverside to merge onto the intercity highway did she need to start worrying about the aliens that drive like they've never seen a car in their life.
She pulled off onto a straight, taking the chance to peer Terminal's way as she picked up a half-empty bottle of whisky from beneath her seat, turning it in her hands.
"What did I tell you about touching my stuff?" she hissed. "And I, uh, don't drink that while on duty, by the way. I don't know how that got there. No need to report it."
Terminal half-acknowledged her with a simple mhm, flipping the bottle to read the label on the back. "Man, they really dilute this Viper stuff."
"Don't know why. Not that hard to get your hands on the normal human stuff. It's just a nuisance."
"Then why do you have a bottle of the Viper-approved stuff?" she replied, tapping a finger to the Viper label printed on the front of the bottle.
"Cause whether I get the normal stuff or the Viper stuff all depends on how much of a hardass the cashier wants to be."
More than content with a quiet fifteen minute drive, Torque reached over to turn the rock music on the radio up, trying to dissuade any further would-be conversations the medic next to her would no doubt try to spark up.
"What other stuff do they make specifically for Vipers?" she said, raising her voice over the thumping beats. Torque paid her no heed, her eyes on the back of the automated delivery truck in front until Terminal reached over and turned the music down, repeating her question once again.
"No clue," she replied, not even paying her so much as a glance.
"You seem to like your coffee," she said, picking up an empty coffee cup from the floor. "Synth-beans, eh? Any good?"
"I wouldn't be buying it otherwise."
"Cool, cool," she replied, peering over into her backseat. "Do you—"
"Can you just," she raised her hand, shushing the woman before she could get another word in. "Not."
"Heh. Your car, your rules," she replied, finally settling back down into her seat.
"Save the babbling for the 31PD," she added, drowning out the world in music as she turned the radio back up.
"You've got it, boss."
Their trip continued on, the driverless cars dotted around the street slowly giving way to the early morning commuters the further out from Downtown they got. Torque's little treaty with Terminal had, of course, lasted less than a minute; the rest of their boring drive into Switchyard occupied by thumping beats and idle conversation, broken only by the occasional blast of the horn at yet another Xeno that couldn't tell their brake from their accelerator.
It wasn't long before they finally pulled into the carpark of Wynn Cargo 31, the two of them nearly passing the brick building by had the 31PD patrol car parked out the front not reaffirmed that they were, in fact, in the right place.
The two cops standing out the front acknowledged them with a wave as Torque pulled up behind their patrol car, leaving Terminal to deal with the pleasantries as she climbed from the car and slithered towards the building's main entrance.
"You with Chimera Squad?" one of the cops spoke up, flicking away his cigarette.
"Yep," the medic replied. "Agent Terminal."
"And the snake's with you?" the other asked.
"Agent Torque," she sneered, peering back over her shoulder. "And don't forget our agency holds authority over you guys."
"Yeah, uh… definitely wasn't planning on it," he replied, feigning a smile before turning away.
Torque approached the glass sliding doors sitting front and centre, waving her hand up in front of the sensors for a few seconds before turning to the ID Card reader sitting by the side. She tapped a finger to her wristchip before holding it up to the reader, but the door still didn't feel like budging.
"Hey, what gives? My security override isn't working."
"Aren't we only meant to use that during active terrorist situations?"
She shrugged, wiping the chip on the sleeve of her jacket before holding it up to the door once more.
"Terribly sorry, officers!" a muffled voice echoed from the dark waiting room beyond the glass doors, a yellow Python in a black skirt and white top slithering into the light. "I could've sworn I unlocked the doors when I came in. Must've slipped my mind."
Soft beeps echoed from the other side as the Python punched in a code on her side of the door, the automatic doors letting out a soft whirr as they slid open.
"That's Agent to you," Torque replied, tapping the badge on her jacket. "Your card reader's broken. It's not reading my wristchip."
"Oh, that—no, it's not broken, we simply haven't been able to acquire the funding from Reclamation to upgrade our systems yet. We still use ID Cards here, none of the readers are connected to the Reclamation database," the Python replied. "I could probably print you off a temporary badge if you need it."
"No, that's fine, we're not going to be here long," Terminal chimed in, flashing the Python a smile before turning to Torque, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Seems the place is just outdated, then. Guess we can rule out any under-the-table dealings here."
"For now, at least."
"Sue just got in, by the way," the receptionist said, flicking the lights on before slithering back towards the small desk taking up the far corner. "I'll go ahead and let her know you're all here. Feel free to take a seat in the meantime."
While Terminal and their two new cop companions were more than happy to take up the offer, Torque did anything but, slithering across the room and drawing the curtains on the far wall, the painfully white and modern waiting room providing quite the striking contrast to the sea of brick offices and metal warehouses that lined the docks outside.
One second after another ticked on, and with an irritated sigh, Torque began to pace, skimming over the magazines laid out on the side tables and glancing over the various posters on the wall, ever so slowly leading herself to the big metal doors on the far end of the room. She gave her wristchip another tap, holding it up to the keycard reader as though the outcome would have somehow magically changed from last time.
"Torque, it's been ten seconds. Settle down," Terminal said, peeking up from her datapad. "Sue will be here any second."
Right on cue, the doors leading deeper into the building let out a soft chirp, an older Muton stepping out into the waiting room before tucking her keycard away, welcoming the four of them with a smile and a wave.
"Good morning, I take it you're the four from the 31PD?"
"Those two, maybe, but not us," Torque replied, crossing her arms as she slithered out of the way of the door.
"Agent Terminal, Chimera Squad," Terminal added with a nod as she latched her datapad onto her belt, climbing to her feet. "And that's my partner, Agent Torque. We're simply here to aid the 31PD with a case of theirs."
"Oh, the anti-terrorism agency? Must be serious," she replied, her smile faltering.
"Do you have an office where we can talk?" one of the cops spoke up. "Somewhere private?"
"Of course, follow me."
The Muton turned back the way she came, the warehouse beyond the metal doors taking an almost jarring turn from the clean and modern waiting room they first entered. The grey carpet beneath her tail turned to smooth concrete, rows of metal shelves reaching nearly two stories high stretching out towards the large docking bays on the opposite end of the room, both aliens and humans adorned in yellow vests weaving their way across the workfloor like a well oiled machine.
A brisk walk through the building followed before Sue stepped aside to climb a set of metal stairs, a small overhang lined with windows overlooking the warehouse floor from above. She once again flashed her keycard to the reader at the top, holding the door open as everyone piled into an office that was definitely not designed to accommodate four humans and a snake.
The Muton closed the door behind her, squeezing in past her new guests and climbing behind the desk strewn with papers and folders sitting against the far end of the room. "Excuse the mess. I didn't get much time to clean."
"It's fine," Terminal replied, turning to the rest of them to silently gauge who should take the lead. The two cops acknowledged her with a nod, one pulling out a datapad before motioning for her to begin. "I can appreciate you finding the time to see us on such short notice."
"Oh, it's fine. There's nothing going on here most days anyway," she replied with a slight smile, making the last-minute efforts to make her desk appear presentable. "Can I ask what this is about?"
"It's about one of your staff." She briefly stopped to check her datapad. "An Adder going by the name of Ada—ID Chip 02490385. We regret to inform you, but we found her dead this morning in an abandoned warehouse in Downtown."
"Self-inflicted," Torque added. "Well, technically self-inflicted."
"Oh… wow," Sue muttered to herself, taking a second to process what she just heard. "I don't even know what to say…"
"It's fine. Take all the time you need."
"I mean… I can't say it came as a surprise." She fell silent for a moment, taking her time to mentally throw together her next words. "I don't want to be rude, but… I always suspected she was the type to get mixed up with bad business."
Terminal leant back, eyes unmoving from the Muton. "How so?"
"She was just always real quiet and reserved. Felt like she was hiding something."
Torque spoke up before Terminal could internalise a reply, raising herself up slightly on her coils. "Yet you paid directly into the Adder's wristchip rather than a Reclamation Credits Account. Only illegal businesses work like that nowadays."
"Reclamation never granted us the funds to upgrade our systems. Our servers simply won't be able to handle all the workers we have here."
"So everyone here is being paid directly like that? You know unregistered funds are illegal, right?" Torque replied.
"Hey, it's not unregistered. We encourage everyone to transfer their paychecks over into their accounts manually. It's been working for everyone here for years."
"Everyone except for Ada, apparently," she scoffed. "Did you ever even check her identification? Because it'd be pretty easy to pick up that her wristchip was a black-market fake if you did."
"We were desperate for workers when she applied, and the whole confirmation process with Reclamation takes way too long. We took her on right away under the condition that we'll be confirming her IDs at a later date, but I guess she just ended up slipping through the cracks."
"A terrorist slipped through the cracks," she hissed, leaning forward. "What's stopping me from arresting you right now and shutting down this business for aiding a known terrorist group?"
"No, Torque, no one's getting arrested for anything. We're getting off track here." Terminal spoke up, swiping back the reins of the investigation.
"She was a... terrorist? I… I honestly had no idea." The Muton shifted in her seat, genuinely taken aback.
"She was, and that's why we were called out to help," Terminal replied, letting out a sigh as she flicked through her datapad. "But again, we're getting off track here. I have some more questions I've been meaning to ask, so if you're ready..."
"Oh, of course, I'll try to answer any questions you may have, but... I haven't had the chance to get to know her as much as some of her coworkers have."
"Why not? Was she new here? You mentioned hiring her out of desperation before. How long ago was this?"
"We've definitely had her around for a while now… a few months, I think. It's just that she kept to herself most days… all days." She leant back in her chair, eyes on the floor as she twiddled her pudgy fingers together. "She had been apparently going out for drinks with some of her co-workers, though. Went out last Wednesday night and James came back with a massive gash on his face the next morning. Haven't seen Ada here since."
Terminal shot Torque a knowing glance, the 31PD standing behind them taking a note on their datapads. "And where can we find this James?"
"I'll call everyone that was there the night up here," she replied, reaching for the microphone by the side of her desk. She pressed a finger to the button, the loudspeakers outside coming to life with an ear-piercing screech. "Would Dex, Vira, James, Leena, and anyone else present on the outing Wednesday evening please report to my office as soon as possible. That is all."
Torque turned her attention to the warehouse beyond the windows, scanning the faces of every human and alien below as she tried and failed to pick out the so-called James and his colleagues from a sea of matching uniforms.
"Do they go out often?" Terminal asked.
"James and his group try to make it a weekly thing, although they only made Ada tag along recently," Sue replied, crossing her arms as she stared out the window in an idle second of thought. "Sorry, I just… still can't believe it. I was talking to her in my office about work quotas just last week, and now she's just… gone… self-inflicted, did you say? Suicide?"
"It's a bit more complicated," Terminal replied, paying the Viper coiled by the windows a brief glare. "She was tortured. Made to hurt herself if she wanted to be let out alive in some sort of sick game."
"Took a knife to her fangs. Cut herself up real good," Torque butted in, making a show of her own two white daggers. "Had this weird metal machine wrapped around her chest that slowly crushed—"
"Torque," Terminal interrupted like a stern mother scolding their daughter. "Try some professionalism, yeah?"
"What? The lady wanted to hear it," she replied. "So-rry I'm not dancing around my words like you are."
A knock at the door interrupted them before Terminal could get another word in, the manager calling out a warm 'come in' before the door drifted open, the already cramped office welcoming yet another cast of characters all adorned in matching, high-vis jackets.
The one human in their group of four flared up the second he laid eyes on their badges and uniforms, one hand pressed to the bandages covering his cheeks as he stepped into the room, more than ready to give them a mouthful of his mind. "No no no no no. I already told the cops that arrived Wednesday night that I'm not pressing charges. Period. I still have that number you gave me. I'll call when I see her, alright?"
"Maybe this is a sign that you should be pressing charges," the Viper behind him replied. "First it's a cut to the cheek, and then what? Next week you lose an eye, then maybe she starts crushing some bones the week after that. Would you be pressing charges then?"
"She's not like that. That slap was on me. She said she didn't like getting touched, and then I went and grabbed her on the shoulder."
"Normal people don't gouge their friend's face open when they get touched, James."
"She's got problems, Vira, and sending her back to the Alien Detention Centre isn't going to solve them."
"Yeah, no shit she's got problems."
"Uh, guys?" the Sectoid whispered, motioning the cops' way once he got their attention.
"Right. Sorry," the human replied, turning back to the room of law enforcement silently waiting for their little quarrel to end. "If this is about Ada, then I have nothing more to say. If this is about something else, though…"
"No, it is about Ada," one of the cops replied, hands on his datapad as he leant back against the wall.
"Oh… well, my point still stands, then," he said, his steadfast attitude flaring up once more. "I'm not pressing charges."
"As you've already established," Terminal replied. "James, right?"
"Yep. James Farris. My ID Chip's right here if you want to scan it," he replied, holding his wrist up. "You and your Viper friend don't look like 31PD… what's going on here?"
"You're right. I'm Agent Terminal, and this is my partner Agent Torque. We're from Chimera Squad, here on behalf of the 31PD."
"Wait, the Chimera Squad?" the Sectoid spoke up, peeking up over the crowd by the door.
"Was only one last time I checked," Torque replied.
"Sorry, Chimera Squad? Should I know that name?" James chimed in, peering back at his coworkers.
"I think it'd be best if you come in and…" Terminal trailed off as she peered around the room. "I'd say take a seat, but there's not many seats in here to be taken."
James quickly stepped inside, squeezing himself in towards the front while the rest of his friends hung back around the entrance.
"Is it about Ada? What's she done?"
The medic managed a welcoming smile, but the sombre tone to her words spoke volumes. "You see, as of this morning, we have reason to believe your co-worker, Ada, is..."
"Dead," Torque butted in, backing her comment up with a slashing motion across the neck. "Self-inflicted. Mostly. But there was definitely some foul play involved, so probably forced suicide, if anything. Found her with her mouth slashed open and one of her fangs hanging out. Pretty gruesome stuff."
"Torque. Seriously."
"Oh, sorry— passed away, as the professionals would say."
"Ada's… dead?"
"Take all the time you need," Terminal replied, letting out a sigh.
The Viper by the entrance sank down into her coils, sharing a look with her other two co-workers as she slowly rubbed her arm.
"I take it you two were close?"
The human feigned a smile that quickly faded, unsure of where to place his arms or where to direct his attention. "No, no… I was trying to get closer to her, though. You know, as a friend... I just wanted to help."
Terminal gave him an attentive nod. "You just wanted to help her. I get that. You sound like a good guy."
"She was just…" He settled himself with a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "...Really anti-social. Kept to herself a lot, but you could tell something was hurting her."
"Something like what?"
He paused, racking his brain. "I don't know… I'm sorry, I don't know. She just had problems, you know? I just… Christ..."
"Did she ever mention anyone that would want to hurt her? Enemies, maybe?"
"What, with an attitude like she had…" the Viper in the back trailed off, less hostility in her voice than before.
"How about former acquaintances? People she used to work with."
The human looked up, his eyes moving from Torque to Terminal as he studied their badges and uniforms. Terminal's question seemed to go through one ear and out the other, a second of realisation lighting up the man's face as though their whole getup finally clicked in his head. "Wait… I remember, y-you're that anti-terrorism agency… from the news… why are you here?"
Torque spoke up before Terminal could muster her next words. "Because your friend was a damn terrorist in hiding, James. Former Grey Phoenix. Found old video tapes at the crime scene showing her killing someone a few years back."
"W-what…"
"Grey Phoenix... they were the ones that committed that terrorist attack a few years back, right?" Vira spoke up from the back. "That car bomb just outside the city centre… it was all over the news…"
"That's the one," Torque nodded, crossing her arms.
"And Ada was working with them?"
Torque opened her mouth for a reply, but Terminal beat her to the punch, trying her hardest to keep the exact details of the case under wraps. "It's presumed. The only evidence we have so far is a tape 31PD found at the scene. Our leading theory is that her murder was an act of revenge, possibly someone that's former Grey Pheonix themselves."
James sunk down into his chair, staring off into nothing. "M-maybe she felt bad about what she did during her time with Grey Phoenix and was planning to come forward to the police," he spoke up after a moment of silence, turning to his coworkers as though expecting someone to back him up. "I mean… you saw how she was Wednesday evening, right? She was getting better… opening up some more."
"She nearly sent you to the hospital, James," Vira replied.
He stumbled over his next words, pressing a hand to his bandages as he slowly turned back to the front of the room. But his reply never came, the words falling away in a deep sigh as his eyes fell to his feet.
"Your boss mentioned earlier that you all went out for drinks Wednesday evening," Terminal spoke up, swiping to a new page on her datapad. "There's a likely chance that you four were the last ones to see her alive. Can you lead us through what happened that night?"
"I don't even know where to begin," he started.
"Your injuries would be a good start," she replied. "From what I'm getting so far, Ada was the one that did that to you?"
He returned his hand to the bandages, running his fingers over his cheeks for a few seconds before dropping his hand back to his lap. "Yeah, that was Ada... I tapped her on the shoulder after she spilled her handbag on the ground and she spun around and slapped me. I hit the ground hard, and by the time I realised what was going on, she was just gone."
"I didn't see much either," Vira spoke up. "Everyone was too focused on James, but I think she might've left through the back doors."
"I, uh, only saw as much as they saw," the timid Hybrid in the back spoke up for the first time.
"And you?" Terminal said, nodding to the Sectoid.
"Look, I was… drunk. I don't remember much of anything," he replied, stroking his neck with his bony fingers.
"Right," she replied, holding the word for a moment as she waited for the cops in the back to finish their notes. "Let's roll it back a bit. First off, what time did you all arrive?"
"Same time as most nights," the Viper replied. "Dex, Leena, and I got in around ten. Ada came in maybe… twenty minutes later? Sat down, ordered her drinks, and kept to herself like usual. James came in maybe twenty minutes later… something around that."
"What were you doing for forty minutes?" Torque spoke up, eyes narrowing the human's way.
Sue leant forward, the squeak of her oversized office chair grabbing everyone's attention. "I called him in at the last minute to clear some mixed-up paperwork for a delivery that was due to be sent that night. I can attest to him leaving around ten thirty."
Terminal acknowledged her with a nod, pausing as the two cops silently compared their notes. "Did you see anyone suspicious that night? Someone that seemed to be watching you at all?"
"Not that I can recall," James said.
"And leading up to the moment Ada attacked you—did anything happen beforehand? Anything suspicious? Like, say…" Terminal briefly waved her hand in the air, searching for her next words. "Maybe she was looking over her shoulder a lot? Or it looked like she got a worrying text? Things like that."
"She was acting kind of strange right before," Vira said. "Ran off to the bathroom, and when she came back she was acting really frantic, saying she wanted to go home. That's when she dropped her handbag, and when James tried to help her."
James rubbed the back of his neck, sinking down even further into his seat; a mannerism that definitely didn't go unnoticed by Terminal or Torque.
"Any reason she would've been acting frantic?" Terminal asked.
"Look, I…" James turned back to his co-workers, his eyes glossy with tears he had managed to hold back thus far. "I may have tried to give her my number, tried to let her know she wasn't alone in whatever it was she was going through. She stormed off to the bathroom right after... That's… uh… why I thought she'd been skipping work—to avoid having to talk to me."
The soft taps of the cops' datapads filled the bouts of silence, a moment passing before Terminal moved on to her next question, trying her hardest not to come down too hard or fast on the human. "Who was fetching the drinks that night?"
"I was," the Sectoid admitted, raising a hand from the back. "But, officers, I—"
"Agents," Torque corrected.
"Sorry, Agents—like I said, I was a little drunk. Sectoids aren't exactly known for being able to hold their alcohol."
"Then just tell us what you can remember."
"I remember setting the drinks down at the bar for a bit after getting distracted by some Hybrid woman and her friends. Do you… do you think someone could have slipped something into her drink while I wasn't looking? Ada always ordered the same thing, so it would have been possible to tell her drink from ours…" The Sectoid mused for a few seconds before shaking himself from his train of thought, backpedaling on his words. "I mean, I am only guessing here… not saying anyone did."
"It was only after Dex brought back the drinks that Ada started acting odd," Vira replied, crossing her arms.
"Christ…" James muttered, sinking down into his hands. "I should've noticed something was off. I should have never let her leave that night."
"Don't blame yourself. There's absolutely no way you could've known," Terminal replied, allowing a second for her words to sink in. "So tell me, what happened after Ada assaulted James? Did she leave in her own car? Did she jump in with someone else?"
"Like we said, we were more focused on James, but her car was gone by the time we went out to see where she was," Vira said.
"Cops came like ten minutes later. Took everyone's statement and had me looked at in the back of an ambulance. They said that since I refused to press charges, and because her hit didn't warrant a trip to the hospital, they would not pursue the case too hard."
"Heh. Should consider yourself lucky," Torque spoke up, briefly stretching her own talons. "I've personally seen a Viper's claws rip a man's face clean off."
"Not the time, Torque," Terminal muttered to herself, before motioning for the human to continue.
"The Hybrid cop gave me a number to call once I see her again. Said I could arrange a time we could both come down to the station for an interview. Even then, though, I don't know if I would've gone through with it or not."
"Any reason you're so adamant about protecting this Adder? Were you… aware of her past, perhaps?" Terminal spoke up, finally asking the question Torque had been itching to bring up since he arrived.
"I promise you I knew nothing."
"Did you know she had a black-market wristchip? A forged identity?" Torque butted in. "Maybe you knew Reclamation's systems would've flagged her chip when they tried to ID her. If you knew nothing about her past, James, then why did you refuse to press charges, if not to keep your little terrorist friend hidden from the authorities?"
"I didn't want to press charges because if I did, then you'd have sent her back to the ADC," he replied, the same steadfast attitude he showed when he first arrived firing back up. "And sending her back through your broken system is the last thing she needs."
"So you'd rather let a former terrorist walk free?" Torque crossed her arms, flashing her fangs with a contemptuous glare.
"I'd rather get her the help she needs! Throwing her away to rot in some jail cell for a year or two helps no one!" The room of authorities staring him down brought a slight hesitation to his words, yet his voice continued to rise; grief cracking his facade as he tested the waters with the cops staring him down. "Look, I had no fucking clue she was a terrorist at the time, but even then, so what? She's only a terrorist because your system failed to integrate her into your society."
"She killed people, James, and she enjoyed it. No system could filter someone like that out. Do you want me to bring in the tape? Cause I'll bring in the tape."
"No, no one's bringing in any tapes," Terminal spoke up. "Torque, can—"
"I've seen what it's like in there," James cut in. "All those intranet videos popping up online. Your damn system couldn't pick her out and give her the proper help she needs because it's built atop the same program XCOM established mere weeks after the war ended. It's outdated and rushed, and no one seems to even care!"
Terminal feigned a professional smile. "People do care, James, but right now we're getting off track so—"
"It's been seven years!" He threw his hands up for emphasis. "How many aliens have come and gone through this city since? Don't answer, I looked up the records—three hundred thousand since the war. Three hundred thousand soulless soldiers suddenly given sentience and torn from the only thing they've ever known just to be thrown into a completely new world, and way too many are made to turn to terrorist groups because they know nothing else, because the ADC did a shit job at teaching them how to be anything else but soulless soldiers."
"What are you implying, huh?" she hissed, breaking whatever personal space he had as she slithered in closer. "You think I'm some sort of monster that knows nothing but murder?"
"No, no, of course not," he replied, raising his hands.
"What about your friends, huh? Think they're soulless monsters too?" She motioned to his coworkers still idling by the door, the three of them awkwardly standing by as they watched the chaos unfold.
"I never said that!"
"Torque," Terminal hissed. "This isn't an interrogation. Cool it."
"Whatever," she replied with a sneer, backing away from the human. "You're lucky I'm in uniform."
"But am I wrong?" the human persisted.
"You're treading on thin ice here, biped."
"You were born a soldier. Taught nothing but war and murder. Only instead of joining the terrorists, you joined the cops."
Torque blinked, the room falling silent as she raised herself up a head higher. But as quickly as it began, it stopped; her rising anger fizzling away into a frustrated sigh. Terminal eased down from her defensive stance, almost as shocked as Torque was as she sunk back down into her coils, held back by nothing but her own thoughts.
"Sorry, I... didn't mean to get personal." The flame had died from the man's words, the tension falling from his body.
"Fuck you," she replied, breaking away from his stare as she turned towards the exit.
Terminal took a step forward, extending a hand that was promptly swatted away. "Torque, we're not done here."
"I'm sure you'll cope," she replied, the aliens by the door clearing to the side as she pushed her way to the stairs, leaving the remaining agent to address the room with something she couldn't quite make out. It wasn't until she was halfway down did she begin to hesitate, taking one last glance up at the office before letting out an exasperated sigh.
Idiot. Fucking idiot, Torque.
Did you really just let that moping fool get the better of you?
For a moment she rared to storm right back in there, but she instead turned back to the endless sea of yellow vests and metal shelves, rubbing her brow as she slowly descended the rest of the cold, metal stairs in defeat.
Maybe some independent investigating without Terminal and the 31PD breathing down her hood would do her some good. Now that only left the question of where to even start.
"Are you lost, officer?"
She snapped herself back to attention, the sheer speed of her reaction almost startling the Sectoid that had stopped to gawk.
"Agent," she hissed.
"Oh, sorry," he replied. "Are you looking for something? Sue's office is back the way you came."
"Yeah, obviously. I was just..." she trailed off, peering back up at the office before letting her eyes wander around the surrounding warehouse, her left hand padding the pouch that still held the Adder's old ID Card close. She unzipped it, pulling the card out and giving it a quick glance over. "Actually, tell me where a… Warehouse Clerk would go for their break."
"That's on the other side of the warehouse, I think," he replied, leaning against the pile of boxes stacked atop the cart he was pushing. "Opposite the bathrooms. All the warehouse hands go there."
"Do they have lockers or something?"
"I think so," he shrugged, kicking the brake on the cart off before pushing it back into motion. "I would show you, but I, uh, should probably get back to work."
She acknowledged him with nothing but a nod and a curt mhm, peering off towards the opposite end of the warehouse as she mused over her reply. Was this the part where she was meant to say thanks or something? Kelly had been insisting that she worked on her social skills, and thank you definitely doesn't sound like something a soulless soldier would say.
She snapped herself from her thoughts, quickly glancing left and right for any sign of the worker before letting out a soft hiss.
Whatever. She had better things to tend to.
It didn't take long before she reached the end of the towering aisles, glancing left and right before slithering towards the only door in sight. She fumbled with the keycard, tapping it against the reader a few times before turning it around the other way, the door letting out a confirmative chirp as the locks disengaged.
Another rather modern looking room met her beyond the doorway, a large table occupied by two humans in the middle. The furthest one was tapping along to the beat of the song in his headphones, oblivious to her arrival, while the closest acknowledged her with a timid wave before returning his attention to his datapad. A small kitchen nook took up the far left corner, a row of lockers indented in the wall to her right.
"Torque, come in," Terminal's voice buzzed over the radio.
"Will be back at the car in a moment."
"Look, Torque, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but what happened back there was—"
Torque held down the priority transmission button on her radio, cutting the medic's message off prematurely. "Pretty fucking stupid? Yeah, I know."
The static remained silent for a moment, the human sitting at the table paying her a sideways glance as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Just come back to the car. I can get Whisper to assign someone else to this case if you want."
"No." Her words fell out without thought, prompting the Viper to briefly lower the radio as she recomposed herself. "No, I can do this. I'll get my shit together."
"Just come back to the car. We can talk about it here."
"I'm taking care of something here and I'll be right out."
"No, wait, Torque, the car's still lock—"
The radio fell silent with a brief burst of static as she flicked the power button off, returning the radio to her belt as she slithered over towards the lockers. Half were named, half were not—most of the metal doors decorated with varying degrees of effort.
"Which one was Ada's?" she spoke up, turning back to the table.
"You tallkin' to me?" the human replied, resting his arm on the back of the seat as he turned back to face her.
"No, I'm talking to the guy that's not even paying attention," she hissed, the man with the headphones none-the-wiser to her comment.
"Sorry, no clue," he replied with a shrug. "I don't know her."
"But one of these were her's?"
"Yeah, I think so."
She turned back to the lockers, each one marked with a keycard reader no different from the rest. Each locker door, beaten and worn with time, had been adorned in various levels of personalisation, ranging from simple stickers and sticky notes to two full artistic murals—that was, all except for one.
Her eyes fell to the single bare locker sitting on the far left, nothing but a faded schedule taped to the front. She held the keycard up to the reader, a small chirp sounding as the locks disengaged and the door popped ever slightly ajar. And while she wasn't entirely sure what it was she expected to find on the other side, it definitely wasn't nothing.
She stared into the empty metal space for a few seconds, as though she could somehow miss something important between the two work folders standing on the bottom shelf and the old yellow vest crumpled up on the top. She pulled out the vest no different from all the others she's seen, shaking it out before giving it a quick glance over.
It was a work vest. Probably a spare. Nothing out of the ordinary.
With an almost disappointed hiss, she let it fall to the ground, dragging out one of the folders and flicking through the first few pages of work manifestos and shipping documents dating back less than a month. No sticky notes, no notebooks full of personal thoughts, no incriminating evidence to lead her to a killer.
The least that terrorist could have done was leave something interesting in there for her to find.
She sighed, more than ready to call it quits before a small piece of paper taped to the inside of the door caught her eye. She opened the locker the rest of the way, plucking the square piece of plastic from its place before turning it in her hands. A simple Ada and Eve was inked on the back, dated with the year '41 and followed by a cutesy little heart.
Keep your spirits high, Ada! We both have a future ahead of us now, thanks to you, the writing along the edge read, the smudged and faded ink scrawled over a watermark for some sort of old-world novelty place on the other side of the city.
She flipped the little square image back over, both Ada and a Python that could only be the aforementioned Eve staring back at her. The Python was holding the camera with an outstretched hand, a smile—or at least, the closest thing her kind could manage to a smile—beaming across her face as she held her arm around an Adder who looked less than thrilled to be there.
"Always wondered what she was looking at in there every morning."
She slammed the locker door shut, the magnetic locks re-engaging with a chirp as she turned to the man staring over her shoulder.
"Oh. It's you."
"Yeah… it's me…" James replied, forcing a sombre smile that quickly faltered.
A silent moment passed them by, her claws gently stroking along the sleeve of her jacket before her attention fell back to the Polaroid in her hand, the two snakes staring back up at her with slitted eyes.
"This Python, Eve—do you know her?" she asked, motioning the photograph James' way.
"Can't say I do," he replied, a look of sorrow in his eye as he stared down at it. "Ada and I always clocked in around the same time, and every morning I'd find her in here alone looking at this photograph. Always shut her locker the moment I came over to get my stuff for the day, though."
"So she never mentioned anything about a Python is what you're saying? Nothing at all?"
"Never," he replied. "But whoever she was, she must've been pretty important to Ada."
"Could be a former terrorist friend of hers," she hissed, meeting no resistance as she slid the Polaroid back from his hands. That definitely seemed to press at his buttons.
"But… but are you certain she was a terrorist? What if someone made the tape to… I don't know, frame her or something?"
"We have footage of her in the backrooms of one of the old Grey Phoenix hideouts strangling a hostage to death, James."
"But how do you know that was her, and not one of the other hundred thousand Adders around the city?"
"Because the Adder in the tape looked like the Adder in this picture and not one of the other hundred thousand," she replied, tapping a claw to the photograph.
"You mean you can… well..." he trailed off, hesitating a moment as he considered his words.
"What, tell each other apart? You think we all look the same?"
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I just… aren't you all clones?"
"Back during ADVENT times, maybe, but last I checked, any Vipers hatched with tiny genetic imperfections aren't culled anymore."
"I mean, I guess that makes sense… just…" he trailed off, turning to his coworkers sitting at the table. "Just… are you sure?"
"Ask me if I'm sure one more time, James."
He let out a sigh, acknowledging her with nothing but a nod as he leant back up against the locker, pulling his own ID Card from his pocket and turning it in his hands, although it was obvious she was yet to hear the last of his voice.
"Look, before you go, I just want to—"
"What did I just tell you?"
"—say that I'm sorry."
She rubbed her arm, a silent moment passing them by as she took a second to process what it was he just said. "...What's your angle, biped?"
"No angle. I just wanted to say sorry for the shit I said back in Sue's office. It's not fair to assume every alien out there was some sort of soldier. I mean, Vira and Dex worked city jobs most of their lives. I'm sure you had your reasons for joining Chimera Squad."
She wasn't entirely sure how to respond, letting her attention drift past the man and to his three coworkers sitting around the table, the group doing a bad drop at trying to hide their eavesdropping.
"Of course I had my reasons," she finally replied, dropping her arm once she realised she was still idly rubbing it.
"So, uh, what did you do during the war, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I do mind," she huffed, hushing the man before he could reply. "Are you aware how much you tend to pry or is it just something you do subconsciously?"
"Christ, sorry… I'll just get out of your way." He pressed the ID Card in his hand up against the locker next to Ada's, opening the door and pulling out one of the folders within. He flicked through the first few pages, acknowledging the Agent with a small nod as he made his way back over to the table in the middle of the room. But Torque was yet to shake the question chewing at the back of her head, her fingers tapping against the photograph still scrunched in her hand.
"What was wrong with her?"
It seemed to be her turn to pry about Ada, and Torque couldn't help but internally cringe at hearing her words out loud. The human stopped mid-stride, turning around to face her as he tucked the folder up under his arm.
"Come again?"
She bit her tongue, diverting her attention elsewhere as she crossed her arms to her chest. "With Ada, obviously. Back in the office, you said... something was hurting her... or whatever."
He let her words hang in the air for a second, his eyes falling to the ground as he idly tapped the heels of his boots together.
"Her past," he finally replied, a gentle sigh slipping from his mouth. "Same thing hurting most people after the war, whether they know it or not."
"And did… did Ada know?"
He seemed to muse her question over for a moment, eyes on her but his mind somewhere else.
"I don't think she wanted to know."
And with that, the human took his seat among his co-workers, leaving the albino Viper a second to recompose herself before taking her leave, turning and slithering back towards the exit.
"Oh, and... Agent Torque, was it?" Now it was her turn to stop in her tracks, peering back at the man from over her shoulder. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're a soulless monster. Sorry again for what I said back in Sue's office."
She held his stare for a second longer, the ' thank you' on her tongue lost in a sea of self-doubt as she turned back to the door, slithering out into the cold warehouse without another word.
The trip back to the car was a lot shorter than she remembered, but to be fair, only half her mind was there to process it, the other half scratching at places she'd rather not be. But before she knew it she was back in the waiting room, being seen out into the parking lot by that upbeat receptionist that seemed way too happy to be there.
Terminal's scowl met her from behind the glare of the rising sun once she slithered outside, prompting a drawn-out groan from the Viper before the medic leaning up against her car could even get a word in.
"Next time give me access rights to your car before you go wandering off."
"Whatever," she replied, unlocking the car doors as she slithered around to the driver's side. "Just use the override in your wristchip like everyone else."
"You mean the thing you're only meant to use during an active terrorist situation? The thing that'll probably get you fired if you abuse it?"
"That's the one."
"Well, believe it or not, I follow the regulations, Torque, and maybe you should start doing the same." Terminal stepped into the car, sinking down into the passenger's side seat as she eyed the two cops silently chatting by the cruiser parked in front of them. "You know, regulations like… not storming out in the middle of an interview. What the hell happened back there?"
"Nothing."
"Torque."
"I said nothing."
Terminal let out a sigh, letting her head fall back into the car seat as she took a second to recompose herself.
"Did you at least find something worthwhile?"
"I found a suspect." She slid the Polaroid from her vest, unfolding it before handing it over to Terminal. "No need to thank me."
The woman took the photograph from her hands, briefly analysing the two snakes posing on the front before turning it over to read the text on the back. "Who? The Python?"
"Well, yeah," Torque scoffed, leaning back in her seat as she crossed her arms. "Found it pinned to the terrorist's locker, and the biped said she used to look at it every morning. Pretty obvious she was important to our dead Adder, whoever she is."
"Okay, but this photo's dated over a year ago. How are we going to find her? Could be that chirpy receptionist for all we know."
Torque leant forward for a better look through the glass doors that peered into the front reception, mentally connecting all the puzzle pieces together before Terminal blew them all away with a simple: "It's not."
"How would you know?"
"I searched up her records," she replied, turning the datapad in her hands around to face her. "Her name is Chelsie."
Torque sank back down into her seat, staring off at the harbour as she racked her head for any ideas she could.
"Anyway," Terminal started, breaking the silence, "James gave me the name of the bar they were at the night Ada went missing, the old Roswell Inn on the corner of Addison and twelfth somewhere in Riverside . If you're done here, then we should probably get moving."
"What, now?" she hissed, snapping herself from her thoughts. "Does anyone ever think to fill me in on these things?"
"I mean, I could've filled you in if you didn't decide to slither away in the middle of an interview."
"I had my reasons," she replied, her voice falling out a lot lower than she intended as she turned her attention back to the distant harbour.
"Reasons I'm guessing you're still not going to fill me in on?"
"Not until I finish off that bottle under your seat."
Terminal let out an almost dejected sigh as she returned to her datapad, typing the address of the aforementioned bar into the search menu.
"Let's just get moving," Terminal said. "I'd rather get this over and done with before lunch."