I delayed on posting this because the slavery section. I needed to balance history, ancient philosophy, and modern beliefs. Roman had a huge slave population. Stoics stated anyone as the same and slaves needed to be treated nicely. I combined the philosophy with a more liberal/modern beliefs. Sent me a private message if you need the issue cleared up. Be polite in these messages.
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Snow crushed under Viva's feet as a paper bag weighted down her right arm. How could 70 dollars be so light? The thirty dollars of food from the indoor, heated market hanging from her other arm weighed more. However, she now had other clothes that she liked. Cloth had to be cheaper and how there could be fruit in the fury's chill. Part of her wanted to declare this a dream but what could she base this on? The only other alternative would make her roughly two thousand year old chronically. Go with what is most likely true.
So two thousand years it was. Her visit to the library supported it. Rome ended after divided into east and west. The Rome she knew – it could have ended earlier if she counted the chaos. That grieving spanned a total of two thoughts before she fully invested her the passage of the United States of America.
Apparently, the representative democracy was a superpower since 1918 that existed on the other end of the world, a sea separated for the land her home once controlled. It was ruled a "president" elected by an electoral college who should vote with accordions to the state election every four years, called a term, the law limited the number of terms to two. The President headed the executive branch, one of three branch. Judicial interrupted the law and legislative created the laws. Viva lost track of time gaining a fundament understanding of government. A more democratic version of Rome. She laughed to herself. Constant but different. Only temptation using the Rabbi's sect gathered power, most followed one god, not many. The saints could be demi-gods, though.
Slavery… and Google... remained unique in the constant change. Her co-worker's jokes about her stoicism echoed through her head. The buying and selling of one of the same stock as yourself always didn't settle well with her. Still the beating of these forced into the situation due to misfortunate and birth twisted further her stomach. Here, it was at least illegal. She didn't know enough of the labor practices here thought.
Google, however, proved unparalleled an image would appear on the screen. Maybe the messengers on the roads could compare. The "desk top" image changed based on how one interaction with it. Lighter variations flooded the area and world around them. The warehouse 3 agent noticed it appearing palm sized narrow bricks or narrow metal chests with a pad that could be pushed down change the screen.
Another gust of wind break her mediations. At least the more fitted cloak, not it was called a winter jacket, worked. Fortuna must have a plan for by dropping her into the Furies' winds. An offering would not hurt. Her eyes focused on a gathered crowd. Separating them from a snow bathed vacant lot was a stream of yellow tape; posted in the lot stand men and women bundled up in puffy cloa… winter coats labeled with Detroit Police Department. Two emerged of them pulling a human sized black bag resting on it.
Her feet stopped, joining the faceless crowd. One of bundles walked out of deserted building… a clear plastic bag containing a bloodied gladius. Jupiter dam it. Not that. They got that. How long had it been until someone got killed? One watch? She needed to contain that temptation if possible. Three guards died due-
"Excuse me." A woman's voice broke thought.
The Warehouse 3 agent stepped aside. "Sorry."
A man followed, stopped for a moment, then walked again. "Mykes." He mutely called.
Her eyes settled on the scene, studying every detail from the number of police to possible entry points.
However when they gestured for bloodied blade after a whispered conversation and putting on purple gloves, her attention focused on them. "Mykes" dug in her bag for an object, then shielding it for view. She nodded at a hustled statement. Violet sparks flown from the shielded area. The warehouse. Viva smiled. Snaking her way through the crowd, all the words exited her ears.
Mykes and the man entered the snow coated building.
"So, one artifact down, and one scroll left." Pete stated as the cracked brick walls and shattered windows of the deserted factory surrounded them. Overlapping grafted decorated the walls. Some appears as random sketches while one appears an attempt to draw male anatomy. However, Myka focused on the sneakered foot prints from the half shut doorway.
They were looking for a Detective Madore, a thirty woman with a woolen jacket. Her eyes combed the puffy coat for a woolen coat. A woman yelled. "You're the Secret Service people right?"
The agents turned to see a woman dressed in a woolen coat, an ironed on badge resting on her shoulder. They nodded. She gestured for them to come over.
"She sounds happy." Pete stated
Myka laughed. "We are free labor and resources."
The detective pulled her hand. "Thank you for going."
"Agent Lattimer and Agent Bering." Pete greeted, taking his hand.
Detective Madore added. "The victim is Ryan Butler. Several non-violent felony. If you want this records, it will be at my office. We are currently going through this known associates. Any other questions?"
"We will ask if we need another either."
Crowded footprints pollinated the snowed over entry and no more footprints would be created on the cement floor. The police presence disturbed too much dirt on the ground. Pete walked straight the body but stepped over the blood. "I think Jack the Ripper paid this guy a visit." He winced.
Myka felt her stomach twist as her eye glanced at the bloodied corpse. Numerous stab wounds torn deeply into his abdomen, forming the pool of blood for the leaking iron liquid. Even the original color of his shirt was a mystery. She really wished she never saw that.
Alright they knew the gladius was an artifact. So, there was a fight and… this guy was killed. He could be one of the thieves. What was so special about the sword to cause… this. "Mykes!" Pete yelled. "I found anther… museum artifact."
Myka closed her eyes and stepped out the Jack the Ripper victim and further into the factory. Her partner stood over a scattered pile of bronze coins. In his hand, Pete's hand held a hundred dollar and one of the coins. He wrapped it in the bill. Instantly, the coins transformed in exact copies of the bills, down the marker strip. Two artifacts and still no scroll or warehouse 3 agent for what it was worth unwrapping it, the coin returned to their original form.
A row of boot prints imprinted in a snow drift. The warehouse agent traced the immediate tracks. There were reports of a snow storm two days ago. No snow rested in the impressions, so these could be from the thieves… or anyone rampage this deserted factory. These coins would have been taken by people passing through… she didn't know the original amount as well. She stopped ten feet short of the door.
Crimson snow bank leaned across the wall. "Pete. I think we find how the thieves broke in."
Myka pushed the rusted door open revealing a snow bank of likely a parking lot. The Warehouse agents scanned the gleaning white plain. Three sets footprints dotted blinding field, overlapping the pervious imprinted and filled tracks. She didn't like this uncertainty. However, there was possibly three thieves. "Pete. This looks like a sandal."
Her partner stated. "In this weather… the Spurius guy."
"Spurius Vergina Figulus." Myka corrected.
He figured out. "So the two modern thieves team up with the ancient thief."
"Now where could they being?" She answered. They would need shelter. With Butler dead, if one of his associates didn't pan out, they would be a blind search. Before returning to brick shelter, she took one final picture.
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Detective Madore's office turned to 7 by 7 side room populated by ply wood desk hosting a desktop and assorted photos and three file cabinets. "Okay. We have three leading suspects. Could you took two? It would free up more resources for the investigation."
Myka nodded. "Sure."
"Adam Green and Daniel Roy." The Detective handed her two files. "Thank you. These are the most likely involved."
Once inside the car, Myka flipped through the file. Pete asked "Who do we visit first?"
"Roy. He lives closer." His partner suggested. The Warehouse agent moved for his coffee, Myka shot him a look. Right, no coffee.
Something about the warehouse gave him vibes. "Mykes, could you drop me at the warehouse? I still have a vibe about it."
Myka nodded.
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Darkness depressed over the deserted warehouse. The limited jewels lighting the inky blanket failed to illuminate Viva as she pulled the door open. Breaking into building to search for clues, enduring extremes of weather, handling and securing potently fatal objects or clues to locate them. Warehouse constants. She just wished for back-up. A gust pierced her coat. She pulled the rusted door open while drawing her cloak tighter.
Retreating inside into sheltered cooler from the open cooler, she loosen her grasp. Back into work. Let's hope the police didn't take everything from these versed in temptations. Her eyes scanned the snow covered cement. Impressions and foot prints littered the floor. A patch of crimson snow laid near the door way. Its curves and indents match that of a body. A Wraith Blade's victim, no doubt. Which robber… or innocent bystander was it? Hopefully, their passageway was paid.
The warehouse 3 agent rubbed her hands together. How cold would they be without these gloves? She added her foot prints to the snow's growing collections after the next few minutes. No hints of the thieves' presences. Light cut through the shattered light portal. One of the horseless chariots… more of a cart really. A single man stepped out of the vehicle. She could handle that. Her eyes scanned the vast space, dotted with islands of rotting wooden barred rectangles.
Knock him out if he entered the room, otherwise left him alone. What if he had one of these gamma shaped weapons? Didn't change her plan. Her eyes studied the open space. It would not be honorable or safe with the furies. However if she got hurt… she didn't know the defenses against these weapons. What would she give for Achilles's sandals? She stepped backward the door. As it opened, she waited the hand to peak out before grabbing it and shutting the door on it.
As the door pulled against her, she took a breath. Suddenly taking her pressure off the door, she pulled the man into view before promptly kicking his knee under him and securing his other hand. The Warehouse 3 agent twisted them behind his back. "Ouch." The man's hands protested.
Pinning the protesting limbs, Viva begin to secure her hold. "You are assaulting a federal officer." He warned.
"My apologizes." She replied but continued. Federal officer, as in serving the central government.
The fighter rolled to his side, loosening her hold however an advance hovered at her leg. Their eyes locked. The hair dresser clip must have tumbled on the ground. She needed to put it in tighter next time. "Wait. Wait. I'm Pete Lattimer." He stopped struggling. "…of the Secret Service. Why did your hair do that fancy hair appear trick."
"You would not believe me." Still, she paused.
"Like you worked for the warehouse in Rome, Ancient Rome… right and there are artifacts that make one blinded by anger?"
"Yes. Once blood is spilled on it." The warehouse agent pad down his wrist and legs. "What number is it now?" A two gamma shaped weapons. She needed more.
Pete called. "Hey. Hey. If you just want to do that… I know most ladies do but…?" Viva contained a laugh.
"The number."
"13." Ten warehouses. 19 hundred years. Not bad. Still three was a low number.
"Tell me more."
The Warehouse 3 pulled the weapons from his frame before standing and releasing him. "Could you… you know."
"Thank you. Who taught you to do that?" The man asked as he dusted white flakes from his jacket. "Okay. What is your name?"
"Viva Gailia Habita Sedatio, Warehouse 3."
The Warehouse 13 studied her. "The blood artifact negating woman?"
She was more than that. Viva shrugged, then added. "Sedatio. My father taught me how to… Sorry for… my greeting."