CHAPTER FIVE

Steely Group's Confrontation

The day brought little promise to the investigation, but Seth found a small, growing satisfaction about being out in the world again. Where he once saw it as corrupt and cold, there was a new feeling of prosper and change. No one commented on his clothes or his long hair. Seth thought it must have been the case of the Cloning murders. Some people whispered as they passed, others crossing their hearts in prayer for his safety.

Seth gave a chuckle at the citizens' reactions, but Karse found nothing funny about it. At the man's grumbling complaints, Seth gave him a wry smile, and nudging Karse, said good-naturedly, "Ohh, come on. The plan will work."

The officer just gave his partner a hard look before quickening his pace and hurrying with hunched shoulders down the street. Seth came to a slow stop, watching Karse leave, and just shook his head as the short man disappeared from view in the shuffling crowds.

Picking up stride again, Seth headed blindly through the mass of thick coats – lost in thoughts of the Cloning. The murderer was growing unstable, which meant that he could crack soon, and they'd find him.

Or that he'll take out a lot of people, Seth noted with a grimace. Muttering an apology as he bumped shoulders with a cloak-clad man, Seth stopped short. After a moment, he turned suddenly and peered at shuffling faces.

Shaking his head, thinking he must be seeing things, the man pulled his coat around him tighter and hurried down the sidewalk. A thin stream of wind billowed his cloak's hems around his feet, and Seth felt as if he were caught in the rapids of a stream. The movement was difficult and slow. The days were becoming as bitter as people's spirits. The frost on the ground had clumped in layers over New York citizens' hearts as well.

Today there was no talk about Seth's long hair, or his blatant clothing. There were no snide comments or harsh undertones. It would have been a relief, if worry wasn't beginning to form in his mind. Seth knew that their plan was foolish, and most likely wouldn't work, but as long as word was spread to the right people, then some answers should be given.

Feet straying to a slow, subtle walk, Seth raised his gaze generally to peer up the steadily climbing slope. The mismatched-height buildings stood as levels of wealth on a bar graph. The gray sky hung forebodingly beyond the dull steel sides. A sudden glint against a corner of a nearby skyscraper made Seth tear his eyes away. Looking along the angle the glare came from, he squinted his eyes from the midst of a shifting, and unaware mass of people.

A lone figure stood at the top of an older, brick building with their foot pressed against the side. The stranger stood directly in the sun's rays, blinding Seth from recognizing any distinguishable features. A single cone of light emanated from the space in the person's arm where they rested a fist on their hip. The figure stood staring off at the metallic covered windows of the opposite building.

After another moment, the figure turned their gaze slowly to stare down into the shuffling crowds. For a moment, the streets, people, buildings, and distance melted away. They were just two people riveting in the same entrancement, and Seth thought he could make out the familiar shine of the stranger's pupils. Then the world returned, and the connection was lost. Raising an arm to shield his eyes, Seth peered at the building's roof to find it bare and flat.

Grimacing, and pulling his coat around him tighter, Seth shuffled quickly down the street.

-

-

The Gamer's Store was a little place on a corner of Parker's Avenue. It was a frequently stop spot for Seth, and the owner welcomed him with a warm smile and a wave as the door jingled closed behind him. Basch McGreen paid him no mind as he attended to a pre-teen and his disapproving, impatient mother. The boy ignored the woman's unconcealed huff of irritation and anxiety.

Seth recognized the woman's reaction. Despite video games' growing expansion in the world, they still seemed limited to teenagers and old-school gamers. Adults still saw them as mindless, vicious tools of technology. It made Seth wonder what country would crumple first without computers to back them; the United States or Japan.

Reminding himself to open up a wager to this thought, Seth stuck his hands in his pocket and strode with a leisure smile towards the counter. The boy held his new game to his chest as he gazed up at the towering man, hair sweeping in a waver of silk behind him. The plump woman grasped her son's arm, and started driving him towards the door while muttering irritably.

Seth watched them go for a moment, turning as the Basch's strong voice called to him, "Sign in, Seth." Pausing before the opened book with lined paper, the man did't look up – scrawling an almost illegible signature beneath rows of others – as the storeowner prompted, "So what can I get ya, Seth?"

Turning and blinking at the man's warm, unfamiliar smile, the youth rested an arm on the counter to survey the model daggers in the glass case, saying, "Well, I just thought I'd have a look around."

Nodding, and spreading his arms to rest his palms against the counter's edge, Basch McGreen looked at his old, faithful customer with a solemn expression, saying a bit grimly, "Yeah, well you haven't been around of late. What's with that?"

Not even looking up as his eye caught a particularly smooth, polished blade, Seth replied with a small shrug, "You know, been busy. Shit and whatnot."

Pulling a face at the man with a scoff, Basch turned to tilt the perfectly lined boxes of gameplay figures on the shelves, saying, "Yeah, well shit used to be game shit."

Noting the sharpness in his old friend's voice, Seth raised his gaze to the lean, middle-aged man's back, saying with raised eyebrows, "Come now, you know I had that important case."

Sighing, hand resting on top of a Dungeons and Dragon's figurine box, Basch slumped his shoulders, saying in a defeated voice, "Yeah, I know. Things have just been rough lately, ya know? What with the Cloning killings back on the news, people seem to think that this place is the cause of it all."

Brow narrowing at this, Seth asked in a serious, hushed tone, "Say that again?"

The storeowner glanced back at the youth for a long moment before turning. Leaning forward, Basch told the fervent man, "Keep this under wraps, or I'm gonna lose my main crowd, you hear?" At Seth's sure nod, McGreen cast his gaze over the bobbing, erupting heads for eavesdroppers before leaning in closer. The man spoke so quietly; Seth nearly had to bump heads to hear him. "Those seven men killed all came and met up in here individually before. I thought nothing of it; just a little gamer get-together hosted via Internet. Forums or something, ya know? But then they started to come around together, and meet up in the back in the corners where the cameras don't reach so good…"

Tensing at this news, Seth looked thoughtful for a moment, before demanding, "Who were they meeting?"

At this, the storeowner gave an honest shrug and shake of his head, admitting, "I unno. I would come back from the storage room or something, and there would be this cloaked figure just standing there like he was expecting somebody. Ne'er saw his face – covered and all."

Good mood spoiled as a sense of foreboding drifted through him, Seth pushed the image of the man on the skyscraper to the side, as he hissed, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sighing, Basch replied feebly with a grimace, "Cause I couldn't prove anything. One of those silver guys would come in, head to the corner, and walk back out before I got the chance to more then look up. I checked the cameras, and the cloaked guy's always half hidden. And I can't exactly ask him to just leave the store, ya know? There's no reason for him to."

Nodding his head, tensing up now as new factors slid into place, Seth told Basch in a normal, controlled tone, "I see. I wish I had known this sooner, but I suppose it's my own fault for not being around…"

The storeowner just nodded his head, straightening with noticeable stiffness. Basch always had a bad back, and the constant lifted he did every day didn't help it any. However, the man was never known to complain. There were many traits about McGreen that Seth respected and admired, and the man's diligence was one of them.

Resting a hand reassuringly on his aging friend's shoulder, Seth told him with a small smile and serious look, "Don't worry, Basch. I'll get to the bottom of this." Thinking for a moment, he asked slowly, "When was the last time this cloaked guy came in here?"

Giving this thought, tongue sticking out while he pondered over the confusing dates in his head, the man replied unsurely, "I wanna say…three days ago or so. One of those gamer freaks came in the same day." At the look that Seth gave him, Basch shrugged lightly into his friend's hand, saying, "No offense."

Nodding – distracted by filtering thoughts and images again – Seth mumbled, "Yeah, no prob." After another minute, he lowered his arm back to his side, asking suddenly, "Hey, were there any others recently before that meeting? Anyone else that might have come in? Or anyone you knew?"

Tapping a finger to thin lips, Basch strode further down the aisle. Whipping the sign in book around to face him, he stood hunched as he flipped back through the pages. Seth met him on the other side, staring down at the senseless, untidy scrawls on the white, blue-lined paper.

Heading back a couples days' worth of sign-ins, Basch pulled the book around to face Seth, saying, "You're free to look, but I believe that's the day the last guy came in here."

Quickly scanning the opened page, Seth held the red folder up. Squinting his eyes at the scrawled writing, he asked anxiously, "Can I borrow this?" When there was no reply, the youth raised his gaze pleadingly to his old friend.

Basch opened his mouth to protest, but seeing the earnest, drastic look in the man's eyes, he instead waved him off with a turn of his hand. Sighing, he muttered, "Yeah, go ahead. See if I care." Looking at Seth now, he wagged a thick, index finger at him, saying, "But ya gotta buy something at least."

Giving the man a thankful smile, Seth nodded with a small laugh, saying, "All right, all right. Hand me the latest Squaresoft installment then."

-

-

Emerging onto the dimming cement blocks making up the sidewalk – the lampposts not cued to come on for another hour – Seth tucked the closed binder firmly under his arm as a soft snowfall started. The only lights were the streams whipping past as cars hurried towards their destination. Nobody wanted to be caught on New York streets when the late hour rolled around. The predators of the city searched hard for weak prey, leaving them with their clothes if the muggers were nice.

Deciding to tuck the binder on the inside of his coat instead, Seth hurried with eyes downcast towards the four blocks to his house. He didn't like cars, and had grown accustomed to walking around the city. With the traffic jams and counts of car accidents, it was easier and safer this way at least.

Everyone was always in a hurry to be somewhere else, instead of being happy about where they were. Personally, Seth hated cars, and had refused to step foot in another since an incident one year previous where his only reliable witness to a crime, was killed while Seth himself was driving. Seth's reputation began to drain with his confidence, and soon enough, he left the police force altogether.

Now here I am, he thought with a grimace, watching the tips of his boots shifting in and out of view below him. Every day spent the same way…

With a shake of his head, the man pushed the thoughts aside and took long, powerful strides up the climbing driveway to the parking lot surrounding the two-story, old apartment buildings. Ignoring the few cars shining lightly in the lamppost's flickering light outside his building, Seth scuffled hurriedly up the metal, black steps and to his door. Reaching out a hand for the knob – never having found a need to lock up – he paused at thump from inside.

Ears pricking at the sound, the man's body tensed as he listened for any other crashes. When only the calls of crickets met his ears, Seth gently grabbed the knob and quietly pushed the door open. Standing halfway outside, and half on the threshold, he poked his head in. The place was quiet and dark. The odd lumps of his couch created a dim mass to one side; his table faintly illumined on the other end.

Stepping through, Seth let the starlight filter into the room, watching his own shadow spread towards the hallway. Standing there for a moment with hand on the light switch, the man let his arm drop. Walking quietly and cautiously towards the hallway, Seth reached for the pistol he carried on the inside of coat. Old habits seldom die.

The apartment remained quiet, and growing dread was overtaking Seth's senses. There were only two rooms in the back – his bedroom and the bathroom. Resting his hand on the knob of his room, the man paused, taking in a deep breath. Swinging the door open forcefully, he thrust himself back against the wooden, bathroom entry with a solid thud – gun held out before him in both hands. For a long moment, Seth stood staring into the depths of the unknown. Fear caught him like winter's sudden, icy grip and his back remained glued to the door.

The small shafts of light dancing through the curtains to cast strange shadows across his floor were dimming as darkness began to consume the gods' eyes. When nothing moved, he dared a step forward precariously. Legs stiff and ready, Seth felt his neck hairs stand on end. Crossing over the threshold, he thrust the gun towards the opposite wall, squinting at the shadows of his bed.

The only visible mass was his clump of blankets. Breathing out a relieved sigh, Seth rested his pistol back in its hidden pocket in his coat. Shaking his head with a small chuckle, the man muttered to himself, "Just being paranoid."

Deciding that since he was too wired to sleep, Seth strode back through the doorway and towards the bathroom. Beside the tub sat his washer and dryer – both lids open in silent waiting. Pausing before he reached them, Seth strode before the sink to peer into the cracked and musty mirror.

Wiping away an arc of dirt with his sleeve, he stared into the eyes just visible over a rim of blurriness – the only part of himself he recognized. Seth wasn't the same man he had been a year before. His stride didn't have the same confidence, his hands had become hard and rough, and his hair was clumped and entangled.

His mother's words returned to him: Don't let the world's image of you become your own. That's what she advised him the first time she caught people treating him differently because of his resemblance to Sephiroth.

Brow furrowing as anger rose in his chest, Seth released a deep-throated scowl, swiping away the rest of the dirt with his sleeve. Eyes flashing menacingly, the man tried to catch his breath as he straightened. Breathing in deeply, and calming down now, Seth gazed at his full reflection with a dark, serious expression.

Then, scoffing more lightly, he turned back towards his dryer. Peering inside – seeing it was empty – Seth headed for the door. Nowadays he couldn't remember much of what he did – doing his chores over a course of days instead of all at once. Passing the washer, he came to a sudden halt, and his eyes widened in recognition. Lying in twisted clumps around the washer's center were his blankets.

Pulling out his pistol swiftly again at a soft thump, Seth pushed himself against the wall and quickly grabbed the small nightlight out of the outlet to distinguish the small ray of light on the bathroom's tiles. The silence's tension that crept into Seth's heart clogged his mind of organized attention. Thoughts swam in circles like clothes in the washer.

When a couple of minutes passed and no more sounds could be heard, Seth slowly eased his way towards the doorframe. Peering halfway out it towards his bedroom, the man silently cursed himself for not remembering about the blankets.

Maybe it's just the pillows, Seth told himself. However, he didn't move from where he was stationed tensely, nor did he make an effort to turn a light on. If there was an intruder inside his home, he didn't wish to alert them anymore then he already had.

After another five minutes or so, Seth's knees began to tremble in their effort to remain in the same position. As they started to ache, the man relaxed his legs a little with a soft sigh – closing his eyes momentarily. A sudden clatter from the kitchen made Seth jump and within a moment he was out into the hallway.

Pointing the gun out before him, Seth made out a mysterious form, and flicking on the hallway light, squinted his eyes at it. As his sight grew accustomed to the sudden brightness, the man froze on feet that didn't tremble from exhaustion.

The silent figure standing before the small, wide fridge stood calmly with their back to the homeowner. The stranger was cloaked in a flowing, black robe with hood pulled far over their head. A shattered jar stood to one side where it had fallen off from the top of the fridge.

Taking in a sharp breath at the sight of the man – flashes of cubed, black-cloaked figures darting through his mind – Seth called to the person sharply, "You! What do you think you're doing there?!"

Having not expecting an answer, and pulling back the safety, Seth was startled when the stranger peered back over their shoulder at the man, saying in a low, calm voice, "I have come to answer the Calling…"

Blinking at the intruder in confusion – wondering how sane this man was – Seth regained his senses, and said more sharply, "Calling?! I didn't call you!"

Shaking his head lightly, facing the fridge again, the man said simply, "No…not you…but to here…"

Frustrated and heart beating against his temples, Seth stepped forward gingerly, snapping angrily, "Get out…get out of my house!"

Still the intruder didn't move from his spot. After another minute, the cloaked individual slowly turned to face the poised man. Face hidden by the deep folds of his hood, the intruder replied – pronouncing each word slowly, "That is not your decision. Only once the others have come—"

"Others?!" Seth interrupted furiously, mind ablaze with thoughts of more of these weirdoes in his home, he added loudly, motioning his gun at the man, "No! No more! I swear, I have no problem with a dead body."

The man remained where he was, piercing Seth's bravery with a snake's knowing eyes. The stranger knew that Seth wouldn't shoot him – not as easily as he said it. Another minute passed before the intruder said in a louder, firmer, and ominous tone, "There will come a time when you too are called."

Before Seth could do more then blink at the intruder in surprise and disbelief, the cloaked figure was already heading for the door. When he disappeared to the left towards the railing, Seth ran after him. Pausing at the threshold, he heard a nearby thump. Running to the railing, he peered down into the sea of orange-red pavement where a crumpled, cloaked body lay. Someone from below opened her door to peer out, and a distinct yell rang the air.

Cursing himself silently, Seth strode purposely down the steps with a disgruntled expression.

-

-

The police cruisers showed up just moments after the ambulance. The cloaked man – identified as Peter Fargace – was already long since dead. A reporter showed up shortly later and began scooping the area for any witnesses. When the tall woman, high-heels clicking lightly on the pavement, neared Seth and Karse, she was quickly gestured away.

The high-nosed woman gave a sniff with a dark look, but then immediately eased her expression as she turned towards the cameraman once more. Seth recognized the reporter as the one who told the story of the seventh Cloning murder just the day previous.

"Seth? Seth!" Shaking his head clear of thoughts of the bodies and their horrifying wounds, the still uneasy man turned back towards his old partner. A look of unsettlement and worry was spread over Karse's haggard and aging features, as he asked quietly, "Seth…what happened here?"

Resting a hand to his forehead with a sigh, Seth told Karse about the break in – down to each last detail he could recall. Night was pressing in, and the lampposts had flickered on an hour previously. A buzzing sounded from the broken glass of a nearby streetlampas its light flickered on and off distractedly.

When Karse noticed Seth staring beyond his shoulder, and his words slowing, he patted the man on the forearm hard. When Seth turned to him again, Karse ordered in a firm voice, "And you said he fell right over the railing? Did he not see it or…" The officer stopped, licking his lips.

Narrowing his brow at the man for a moment, trying to pick up on the remainder of the sentence, Seth raised his eyebrows at him, saying, "What? What? You think that I…" – his voice grew incredulous as he finished – "—pushed this man?!"

Looking around him anxiously, Karse stepped closer to his old partner, saying in a quiet, undertone, "No, I'm not. He fell too near to be thrown, but I just…"

As the cop shifted uncomfortably again, Seth prompted sharply, "What? You just what?"

Sighing, Karse ran a hand over his weary features to clasp either side of his bottom lip in thought. After another minute, he dropped his arm and turned back to Seth, saying flatly, "You got to admit that it's strange that one of these guys showed up at your house after all those Cloning deaths and all…"

Shaking his head, Seth noted more calmly, "Someone must know I'm on the case, Karse. That's what it has to be." Voice growing more anxious, he prompted earnestly, "I mean, what else could it be? Someone's just fucking with my head."

Nodding slowly, Karse muttered, "Perhaps. We'll have to wait and see. For now, you need to come down and file a report."

-

-

When Seth emerged from the police station an hour and a half later, he rested against the brick building with a sigh. Tipping his head back so that the top of his forehead was pressed against the cool wall, the man closed his eyes in thought and exhaustion. Seth didn't want to return home, but he wasn't in the mood for much else either – not at this time. The man's body ached for his comforters that were still resting in his washer at the apartment.

Hesitantly, Seth headed down the less crowded streets towards a depressing part of his life. With no one to share his home with, it sat there without wonder or reason. There was little meaning in Seth's life now – his duty being only to help Karse.

Why had he decided to take up the old job? Karse hadn't pursued the topic much before his decision, but Seth had realized that the stranger visiting him had really shaken the officer. Maybe Seth just wanted to make things easier on the man, or maybe it was because he felt he needed a purpose so it didn't feel like he was wasting away his life anymore.

Reaching the end of the steps, Seth gazed up them hesitantly. A calm voice caused him to turn as it called softly and crisply through the silent night air; "They get ahead of themselves sometimes."

Glancing back, an image of a passing man on the street from earlier flickered before Seth's eyes, but was gone before he recognized it. The youth leaning against a new, strangely designed motorcycle – hands in his baggy pants' pockets and one knee bent with booted foot against the side – gazed up at the startled man with piercing eyes. In his orbs swam the menacing sea currents, but then the malice was gone. A light wind whipped his blonde locks to frame his curved face.

Turning more towards the stranger to judge him better, Seth narrowed his brow as he responded, "I suppose you saw the news report and just wanted to see where it happened, huh? Pick on the freak and spread rumors or some stupid shit like that."

Chuckling lightly beneath his breath, the youth replied with a small smirk, "Something like that…"

Scowling at the stranger's calmness, Seth shifted his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, muttering irritably, "Yeah, well…go somewhere else."

As Seth placed one numb foot on the bottom step, the youth called out almost anxiously, "I know something about them, if you're interested."

Seth froze at this, going over this statement in his head. Strangers had already gotten him into a great mess so far. However, if this kid was telling the truth in knowing something, it was worth a listen. There weren't many leads at the moment anyhow.

Sighing, the man turned towards the youth. Without stepping forward, Seth gave a light shrug – still maintaining his guard – saying, "All right then, tell me."

The lad raised his gaze to meet Seth's for a moment before asking with a hint of disbelief, "That easily, huh?"

Shaking his head, the man replied firmly, "Not quite. But I'll listen to what you have to say."

Nodding slowly, smirk returning now, the youth shuffled his hands from his pockets to cross over his lean chest. Still capturing Seth's gaze in his own, the stranger droned in an almost delighted voice, "The cloaked man that died here – the one who threw himself over the railing because he evidently couldn't stay – was named Peter Fargace."

Shifting impatiently, Seth noted irritably, "I hope you're going to tell me something other than what I got from the investigators."

Ignoring Seth's comment, the youth continued on: "Peter wasn't a normal man, and surely not in the right state of mind." – here the stranger tapped his temple in reference – "But he was only one of many, and under another who is delicate about their proceedings, as you have found out."

Narrowing his brow seriously at the blonde, soaking in each word now, Seth prompted, "Do you mean to say that that whack job worked with the Cloning case killer?"

Nodding his head a bit grimly, smile gone, the stranger replied, "Indeed he did. And there are many more out there like Peter Fargace."

"Then…how has he not been caught?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the youth said simply, "I guess the police haven't been doing their jobs."

Taking great offense to this, Seth scowled and spat, "I've heard enough."

As he turned away towards the stairs, the blonde-haired man called out, "Just watch your back when it comes to your partner."

Seth turned to open his mouth, but the youth was already mounting his motorcycle and had his helmet on. As Seth started talking, his words were drowned out by the fierce roar of the machine, and a moment later, the stranger took off in a trail of exhaust. With a sigh, Seth turned back towards his apartment.

Climbing the familiar, black grated steps, Seth kicked open the door of his pitiful home. As it bounced off the wall, he caught the side in his hand as he passed through. Thrusting it closed behind him with a bang, the man didn't even bother to kick off his shoes or disrobe his coat. Instead, he headed straight for his bedroom in the back.

Thoughts of Peter Fargace and the blonde stranger that had shown up drifted out of his mind. The only images that remained were the sharp, blue eyes of the youth he knew he had seen before. However, it escaped him like the last remnants of a dream. Lying down on his bed to be consumed by darkness, a sudden thought of his dream the other night came to mind, and Seth realized who the stranger had reminded him of. However, as the man's body collapsed with exhaustion, sleep overtook him, and the thoughts flittered into nothingness.