Chapter 10, Homecoming
Indigo Murex was not looking forward to the Scroll call he had to make. The first reason as to why was fairly simple. He had failed. The fact that the job he had been given was one that was thrust on him at the last minute, and with no real information, was besides the point. Murex was a man that prided himself on his track record, a nigh perfect history of getting the job done regardless of the circumstance. One that was now stained by his recent failure.
He didn't want to babysit a Detective, and the fact that it had been necessary in the first place felt off, but he did not have the full story. The job had been relayed to him by one of the few people he truly hated in this world, and she unfortunately spoke with the authority of the Boss himself. It helped that she claimed that the Boss personally requested for him to keep watch over the Detective. That had been the main reason he had not second guessed the absurd demand. Although he was confident that it had been a necessary evil to come so close to violating the Handshake, if the man who had broken her out was anything to go off of. She had to have known something important to warrant this amount of attention.
He unwrapped a stick of gum. The actual gunfight as the mystery man and the Detective tore their way through his men had been shockingly brief, especially once he considered the number of men that had been injured or worse. Although most of the camera feeds had been corrupted, he knew that the man preferred range over close quarters. His short fight had proven that.
Troublesome. That was the word for it. An unknown Huntsman had blitzed his way in, rescued an important VIP, and managed to keep Murex at bay long enough to make an escape. What information he had gathered from what men could still talk and the Academy dropout painted an unpleasant picture.
The second reason he wasn't looking forward to the call was the fact he would have to report his failure to one Magnolia Magenta. Personally. He had to personally feed her ammunition that could and would be used against him in the future. He could already picture her saccharine grin.
Regardless of his personal distaste for the woman, this was a situation that needed to be rectified immediately. He punched in her contact and waited. After a moment she appeared on his Scroll. There were many who would call Magenta beautiful. He was not one of them. He knew her too well. Underneath the porcelain skin and the cloudlike, waist length white hair lay one of the most unpleasant and vicious people he had ever had the displeasure of dealing with.
"Why Murex," she began, lazily brushing a long strand of white hair from her eyes. "It is quite late. I was not expecting to hear from you tonight."
"We have a problem."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
Murex's face twitched. "Your Detective is gone. An unknown Huntsman tore through here like a hurricane and left with her in a hurry."
The façade dropped, and her demeanor shifted. Hardened. "Excuse me?"
"They hotwired a civilian car, I've already given the description out to my teams and sent them to areas that they're likely to retreat to. Known cop safehouses, personal residences, contact sites, that sort of thing." Murex forged forward. He had been far from idle after his electrocution. Even before he had stumbled back into the safehouse, he had been on the Scroll, summoning what resources he had to pursue after them. "Within the hour there won't be a safe harbor for them anywhere in the city."
"The Detective is gone. You let her escape." She all but snarled under her breath. "Tell me, how did it come to pass that you, Murex, one of the Syndicate's finest, was incapable of ensuring that a single person was held in place for less than twelve hours?"
"Our mystery Huntsman, I'm guessing Atlesian, possibly ex-specialist by the way he fought. Glint managed to lead him right here. Picked a fight outside Junior's, and turned tail the moment it went against him."
"This failure of yours, regardless of whatever proxy you attempt to put in front of it, you know not what you have jeopardized. There was a reason Sable asked for you to guard the Detective personally. Even if my little Huntsman-to-be led this unknown element to your doorstep, you should have been more than capable of killing, or capturing, both." Magenta said icily.
"This is a courtesy call to keep you up to date, so consider yourself updated. I'm personally heading out with one of my teams to apprehend them. I'd recommend getting in touch with your contact with the police, make sure he has his feelers out."
She laughed, humorlessly. "You dare tell me what to do?" She smiled, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. They outright burned at him, smoldering in a seething mass of anger. He knew what she wanted to do. He had seen her work firsthand on more than one occasion. Blood stained hallways filled with the scraps of what had once been people.
"A suggestion. Nothing more." He met her glare head on. They weren't equals, neither in skill or in rank. If she truly wanted to kill him, she was welcome to try. She would most likely win, but he knew it would not be one she would walk away from unscathed, or unmaimed.
"Of course. Now. Be a good boy, and run along and clean up your mess." She moved to turn the call off before she stopped herself. "But first, tell me: was Glint successful in his task?"
Now it was Murex's turn to pause. He only knew what the tank top wearing fool had been assigned to do because he had pulled the information out of the man himself. It hadn't been particularly hard, it had taken only a few terse questions for Glint to spill everything out, including the bits that he had omitted telling Murex before the fight broke out.
Dandelion Glint, Beacon Academy dropout and Syndicate muscle, had been told to deliver a drug called Boost to the smaller gangs of the city. An steroid for Aura, if someone was stupid enough to believe that. Already bad enough, drugs were high profile and attention grabbing, both things that threatened to attract the sort of attention that could turn the rest of the crime families against the Syndicate. And the idiot had taken his sample of the drug.
"No, he was not. He didn't manage to give that stuff to anyone, he took it himself. Apparently that's why our mystery Huntsman followed him in the first place. Wanted information on it, even threatened to blow Glint's brains out with some custom revolver."
"He took it himself." she murmured to herself. "What is his... condition?"
"His condition?" Murex asked. Something about the way she asked the question put him on edge. Not to mention it was not the follow up he had expected. "He's… fine, I believe."
Not the total truth, the man claimed to have the beginnings of a migraine, and his skin seemed flush, but nothing that Murex hadn't seen before. Glint had had his Aura broken twice over the course of less than two hours, that alone would more than explain his symptoms.
"Just classic Aura exhaustion." He continued. "I do have to give him credit there. He took his beatings far better than most."
"Hmm. And this mystery Huntsman. Describe him." She softly demanded.
"A younger man, human. Light tan, short cropped brown hair, about as tall as I am. Average looking. Obvious combat training, but not proper Huntsman training. He fought more like a soldier, preferred using guns. Clever bastard though, and with a nasty passive Semblance. Negation I think, I don't know how far its effect can go, but it hard countered mine." A fact that had Murex found surprisingly refreshing. He was so used to his own Semblance telegraphing his enemies moves to him, even before they acted, that encountering someone like this mystery man was a change of pace. A good reminder that relying only on his Precognition was a recipe for complacency. "He had Dust built into damn near everything he had, and used it both creatively and aggressively."
"Anything else?"
"The man's tough, willing to tank hits if it means landing one himself. Even after I impaled him, he got back up and kept fighting like nothing had happened. He'd stolen Glint's weapon and was using that, can't say why he preferred that over his own weapons. Other than that, he had a gray long coat, open in the front, with a silver armored segment on each shoulder. Satchel bag hanging on his left side, and a metal band wrapped around his left bicep."
"Was there a symbol on his back?"
Murex blinked. "Yes there was. Three angled chevrons, white, arrayed side by side. Like hollowed out isometric triangles. I'm guessing a personal symbol."
"Sable was right, there are more than one of them." Magenta mused. "Consider this man a top priority. Capture or kill Detective Cerulean, it matters not as long as she is out of the way. As for our mysterious friend? Kill him. Put him in the ground. No matter the cost. I do not care what other responsibilities you have, ignore all else until these two are dealt with, permanently. Time is now of the essence."
"And all this comes straight from the boss, or you?"
"Does it matter?" she sneered. "I speak with his authority. Now, you have your instructions. So be a dear, and do your job. Oh! And one last thing. Arrange for Glint to be sent to me. I believe it best that he obtains an appointment with the good doctor."
For the briefest moment, alarm flared across Murex's face, before he quickly quashed it. "It's just Aura exhaustion. He doesn't need to-"
"That was not a request."
He was on thin ice, he suddenly realized. Far thinner than he had anticipated. At the same time, he couldn't in good conscience send Glint to the man they called the 'good doctor'. The stories he had heard, the rumors, none spoke well of this doctor that had found employment with the boss.
It was a rare occasion that Murex cursed the business he was in, and the need to toss his better half aside. This was one of them.
"I'll get him in a car. He'll be at the Lucky Roll within an hour." He finally sighed.
"Good. See to this personally. And Murex…"
He waited.
"Do not fail us again."
The call ended.
Murex collapsed his Scroll, sliding it back into his pocket with a sigh. As he walked towards the stairs to the first floor, he went over the innumerous details that still needed to be addressed tonight. The police bribes, the explanations to the locals, extra workers to repair the new damages and extra funds to keep them quiet. All tasks that he would normally oversee, and now tasks that needed to be delegated.
First though, he needed to get Glint in a car and on his way.
The first floor was largely done, the last steps were all finishing details that would wait until the worst of the top floors were completed. Inside what would eventually be a manager's office Glint sat in a folding chair, hands clasped and head down. He was beginning to sweat, and his skin was beginning to pale.
This wasn't normal. Aura exhaustion was fairly self explanatory, it caused severe fatigue and unconsciousness in the worst case scenarios, not this. Something else was going on here. He was forced to admit that sending him to Sable's hired doctor might in fact be the right call. While a hospital would be Murex's preferred option, there would end up being far too many questions that would need to be asked and answered to make that work.
Murex stopped in front of Glint, and waited for him to react. When he didn't, Murex spoke up.
"How are you feeling, kid?"
"I don't… I ain't feeling so good, boss."
Murex grabbed another chair, unfolding it and sitting down. "I'd expect as much. Your Aura got broken twice tonight. That is not a fun thing."
"I feel empty. Like I've been hollowed out, ya know? This normal for this sorta thing, boss?" Glint asked, lifting his head to look at the senior Syndicate enforcer.
Murex stared. Glint's face was damp with perspiration, and had taken on a feverish look with deep purple bags beginning to form under his eyes.
"We have a doctor we're going to send you to, better than most for this sort of thing. He'll help you get back on your feet, Glint. Just sit tight. I'll have someone bring you a bottle of water, look like you could use it."
Glint nodded weakly and his head dropped down again. Murex got up and left the room, taking a moment to tell one of his men to bring Glint water before getting back on his Scroll. He had a lot of assignments to give in a very short amount of time if he was to ensure this night didn't get any worse. After that, he would be on the hunt. His instincts told him that this assignment was not going to be easy, or quick.
Regardless, he had failed once tonight already.
He would not do so again.
The Warlock and the Detective ran for several minutes, winding through the wide, clean streets of one of Vale's better neighborhoods. Cerulean so far had yet to tell either Hakke or Callie what was going on, but they could make some educated guesses. After all, there are only so many possibilities when someone makes a phone call, panics, and then says they're heading home.
Family. Cerulean had family here in the city, and if the Syndicate knew about them, then they would be at risk. At least that would be his assumption, both as to what the Syndicate would attempt and why the Detective was in such a panic. Truth be told, outside of his time on Remnant and a handful of trips to the crime lord of the Tangled Shore, Hakke had practically no experience with real criminal elements. Plenty of the aliens he had shot over the years probably qualified as criminals, now that he thought about it, but that didn't really count.
While they were running however, he had a thought.
"Callie, you've been holding on to the spent casings for my City guns, right?"
"Of course. It's significantly easier to reload old cartridges than to make new ones after all."
"Think you could prototype a Dust based reload for Midnight Coup? I'm not expecting a miracle or anything, but I imagine we could whip something up to tide me over until I can make real bullets."
"It's worth a shot, I have plenty of Dust rounds to play with, and plenty of documentation on the CCT Network. Dust seems to introduce some unique stressors to a system, but I am happy to say that your hand cannon is more than capable of handling them."
"Heh, gotta give the Cabal credit there, they know how to build tough stuff."
Cerulean signaled him to stop, and she pressed herself against the corner of a building, just out of the worst of the street light. Hakke caught up, and peered around the corner. Across the intersection was a pleasant looking five story brick and mortar building, with several balconies placed evenly across its face. An apartment building.
"Nice place, guessing you've got a spot in there?" he asked.
Cerulean was breathing deeply, doing her best to catch her breath. "Yeah, right on the second floor. There's an entrance to the building in the alley there." She pointed at the alley in question.
"Cool, cool, so why are we here? This feels like the first place they're going to look for us."
She sent a glare his way. "The Syndicate are the kind of people to go after your loved ones. I need to make sure she's okay, that she's using our bug-out plan."
He nodded. "When did the Syndicate kidnap you again?"
"A day, two days ago at most."
"So not long enough for this gal to realize she needs to bug out."
"Pretty much."
"Great." That made sense in the worst way possible. If things were too fluid, and all the developments too recent, then it was a race against the clock to get anyone that could be used against Cerulean as leverage out of harm's way.
"Point out your apartment. Callie, let me know if you pick up more than one Scroll in there."
Cerulean nodded and pointed at a window on the second floor, and Callie did her thing.
"Just one inside, and I'm willing to bet that it does not belong to any Syndicate thug."
They ducked back for a moment as a vehicle passed by and didn't stop.
Hakke gestured. "Lead the way."
They crossed the street and darted into the alleyway, pausing for a moment as the Detective punched in an access code on the door. The inside was a pleasant space, darker hued with deep earthy tones on the walls and a clean burgundy carpet coating the floor. They passed an assortment of paintings depicting a wide assortment of natural landscapes. Pleasant looking, sure, but that was it.
They arrived at the apartment door, Cerulean grabbing the handle before freezing. It didn't take Hakke long to see why. Right along the edge of the door were the tell tale scars of a shimmy being jammed into the hardwood. Cerulean pushed the door in lightly, and it opened without complaint. The built in lock had been destroyed, the cut out for the bolt to rest in completely blown out. Someone had broken in.
Hakke pulled out his baton and Cerulean checked her gun, and then they entered. The apartment was completely dark, the only light spilling in from the open hallway door and from the street lights outside. A short hallway led into a small living room, complete with a sheet of glass on the wall and a couch and coffee table across from it. A door led into a small kitchen off to the right, and another room opened directly ahead. A bedroom, if Hakke had to make a guess.
A few tense minutes passed as the two cleared each room of the small apartment in turn. Nothing, and no one appeared in any of the rooms. The place was completely empty.
Cerulean turned a light on. "Nothing. She's not here."
Hakke looked around the small living room. On a shelf next to what he assumed was the Remnant equivalent of a television, was a framed picture of two women. From the way they were holding each other, and the fact that one of them was Cerulean, he had a fairly good idea as to what the situation here was.
He picked up the picture. "I'm guessing this is the gal we're looking for. You mind telling me who she is?" Hakke asked.
"Yeah uh, that's her. She's… her name is Nicole Nightingale. She's my spouse."
Hakke put the picture back. He had been right on the money. It seemed that the Syndicate operated off of the standard bad guy play book. Go straight for your enemies' loved ones. And judging by how his Detective ally seemed to be on the verge of despair, it was as effective and as scummy a tactic as ever. He thought for a moment.
"Callie said that there was one Scroll in this apartment. If we find that, we should be able to pull out something. Might give us a clue as to what exactly happened here, or at least a direction."
She nodded, and Hakke could see her forcing herself back on task. "Okay. Yeah. Let's find it. We have a charging station over here." She walked into the bedroom, and returned holding the small electronic device in her hand. "Got it! Yep, and as usual Nikky didn't set up a password."
"Good. Anything useful? Call list, recordings, picture, whatever?" Hakke asked.
"Just give me a second." Cerulean said as she navigated different menus on the Scroll. "Here we go, the last call she received was from tonight, that would have been me. Before that, Richard Ponci." She all but snarled the name.
"Care to fill me in?"
"Another Detective. My 'partner' on the force. The rat bastard who sold me out to the Syndicate. He called her after he gave me up to die." She stopped. "The same day actually."
Details clicked into place. If her police partner was the one to betray her, that went a long way towards explaining why she didn't want to get in touch with the police. If the Syndicate had a Detective in their pocket, odds were there were more officers on their payroll. Any call to them would only give their location up to their enemy.
"Sounds like a real scumbag. Should be safe to assume he's got a hand in Nicole's disappearance then."
"Hold on. I'd set up some basic camera surveillance in our flat here. Let me access it quick, we should be able to see what happened."
Hakke grunted in confirmation, and wandered over to the kitchen as Cerulean fiddled with the Scroll. He opened the fridge, inspecting its contents for a time before grabbing what looked like a takeout container filled with something that vaguely resembled ramen noodles. A quick search revealed a set of chopsticks as well. Tools in hand, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, he began eating. Once his body realized that he was in fact feeding it, he began to eat so fast he didn't even have a chance to taste the food.
You could definitely work up an appetite when the last time you ate was literally two lifetimes ago. The fact that said lifetimes had only lasted a day or so apiece didn't really change much. You never resurrected with a full stomach.
A rage filled stream of quiet curses started to fill out from where he had left the Detective. Hakke quickly put down the now empty container, wiped his mouth and returned.
The Warlock didn't have a chance to speak before Cerulean let him know the problem. "It's been wiped! There's nothing left." She whipped the Scroll at the floor with a clatter. "A Brother's Damned dead end."
"Maybe not. Let me have a look at it." Callie materialized and hovered over to the discarded Scroll.
"Every piece of information that gets recorded digitally leaves a trace amount of metadata that can survive a purge like the one that's happened to your security here." Callie explained. "And I very much so doubt your partner has the technical knowledge needed to properly delete that metadata. Now, I won't be able to fully reassemble all the footage, but I should be able to cobble some images together. It will at least allow us to get an idea as to what happened."
Cerulean watched as Callie emitted a beam of blue light at the Scroll, its screen flashing a blurred mess of information at breakneck speed. She looked to Hakke.
"Where the hell did you find this drone? Or, her, sorry."
"Your good. And it's the other way around, actually. She found me." Hakke told her.
"I'm not going to lie, I'm going through a lot of emotional whiplash right now. And from what you've told me, you have had one hell of a rough week as well. How are you this calm? Do you have some form of meditative breathing technique or something?"
Hakke raised an eyebrow. "Nope. I'm just a pessimist."
"You're joking."
"Nope."
"So what, you're expecting things to get worse?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"How could things get worse?"
"Aliens could always invade." Hakke offered.
"Oh, I get it." Cerulean said. "You come up with the worst hypothetical situation possible. Something downright cartoonish, so you have something worse to compare reality to."
Hakke pondered for a moment. "Eh, close enough."
Cerulean rolled her eyes. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't follow your example there."
Hakke shrugged, before Callie cut the beam and hovered back over to the two of them.
"Mission accomplished. I have puzzled together two images that show what happened to Ms. Nightingale. And I must admit, they confuse me. Take a look, I've sent them to Hakke's Scroll."
Hakke pulled out his device, and took a look at the images, holding it out far enough for the Detective to see as well. The first image showed Nightingale at the open door of the flat, talking to a broad shouldered man with a trilby hat on and a badge on a string around his neck.
Cerulean pointed at the man. "That's Richard Ponci, my partner."
The next image showed a much more chaotic scene. More people had crowded into the flat. The uniform that these people were wearing seemed familiar to Hakke, and Cerulean seemed to know exactly what she was looking at. The uniform wasn't the important detail, however. Nightingale was face down on the floor, hands behind her back and handcuffed. She was being arrested, and by what looked like Vale Police.
"What the hell?" Cerulean asked incredulously. "I recognize those officers. I work with them."
"At least the Syndicate doesn't have her?" Hakke tried.
She ignored him. "What is going on?"
"Quick question for you Detective." Callie asked, hovering by the window facing the street. "Is it common practice for the local policing forces to operate out of all black vehicles? Oh wait, my bad."
"That's the Syndicate outside."
Reply Time! And once again in chronological order. Slowly but surely I'm piecing together a system of formatting for this section. Eventually, it won't look like hot garbage! I swear!
DarkMegatronXX47 - There's a non-zero chance that the car they stole was in fact Goodwitch's.
The Baz - Titans: the Patron Saints of punching things they shouldn't. Like cursed thrall. Ignore the fact that I've done that with every class because I'm an idiot.
Yavin Yams - Stasis and the Black Fleet are up in the air at the moment. I have some ideas for implementing 'em, but they're pretty far down the timeline, so it'll be a while. Salem's going to be largely unchanged from the base show (so no previous Hive connections), although if she figures out the Hive's actual plans for Remnant, she is absolutely not going to be happy.
