From apartment door to quiet street, to furtive glances and careful stroll towards the alley near Cafe Ultimo, Ignace was worried. He was out of his depth, but with the information d'Artagnan had provided him, he felt at least somewhat better about plunging into the unknown - and it helped make his trek to that very alley seem logical. The reaper's cloth was found there, and it led them directly into the spirit world. It delivered them into the hands of insight itself. Indistinct, cryptic, grasping insight, but insight nonetheless.
Ignace thought all of this as he ran a finger across a symbol on a wall in the alley. "Fuckin' gut was right again," he began, "there's a sigil here. It's also, uh, red?" It was located very close to the ground on the wall of the alley, so much so that he was squatting before it. Its inconspicuous placement probably only helped whoever was behind this, though Ignace doubted most people would honestly be interested in a red sigil on a wall. He frowned at the sigil as his thoughts drifted back to the dusknoir they fought in the alley. The blood patch that boiled and turned black, the reanimating shuppets and duskulls, the scent of death on the wind… He shook himself out of the recollection and turned away from the sigil. "I don't know what's so important about this alley. The poor bastard that died here probably had his heart taken out, but this place is otherwise just-" Charles interrupted him, tugging on the sleeve of his coat and pointing at a dumpster outside the small branch of the alley, sitting in the main alley itself, and grunting.
"What, is there something in the dumpster?" asked Ignace. Charles shook his head and strode over to the side of the dumpster and pointed at the ground - a manhole cover was partially visible. He began to push the dumpster - with some effort, it slid aside, revealing the rest of the cover. "It's just a manhole Charles, what's the issue here?" He knelt down beside the bisharp and peered at the cover: the sigil. "Well fuck me running, how'd you notice that Charles?" The pokemon responded by crossing his arms and giving his master a self-satisfied smile. "Superior perception skills, huh? Alright, don't get too full of yourself you little bastard." Ignace grinned and pulled the manhole cover off and looked into the sewer. Plenty of room it seemed. He jumped down.
The sounds of running water echoed around Ignace, along with the loud splash of Charles landing beside him. The sewer system beneath Lumiose smelled awful but was surprisingly spacious - though he did notice smaller tunnels shooting off of what he imagined was the main tunnel they were standing in. "Right," he said aloud, voice echoing, "Now we just have to figure out why this manhole cover has the sigil on it." He pulled a flashlight from his jacket and shone it at the slick walls of the sewer tunnel - nothing seemed to be particularly out of the ordinary here. "You feeling any weird vibes Charles?"
The bisharp shook his head.
"Shit. I was hoping you'd be hearing voices again or something. No faint whispers, nothing?" asked Ignace. His pokemon shook his head again. "Well fuck, would have been nice to go on." He oriented himself in his head. "The manhole cover's right behind us. If we head straight ahead then turn to the right we should get right underneath where that patch of blood was, right?" He rounded the corner and was met with a tunnel - and grating standing in his way. "Go fucking figure." He pointed the flashlight past the obstruction and noticed a few wet bricks flicker and gleam a ways down. With any luck, it was all purely through the main tunnel. "There's another way into that place. Now we just have to figure out how to get there. You think Ricard has a map of the sewer system?"
The bisharp shrugged. It was customary for questions to rattle off of Ignace and onto him - and while Charles grasped their general meaning, his responses were hardly ever of great use. Not that the detective blamed him or anything, but asking the questions aloud certainly helped him work through things more easily.
Ignace pulled himself out of the sewer halfway and looked about for any prying eyes. Relieved, he hauled himself up and sat, legs dangling into the open hole. He pulled his Xtransceiver from his pocket and rang up Ricard. His friend's face appeared in the display looking confused. "Hey, I'm back at the alley we found the latest victim at and Charles found a manhole cover with that sigil on it. We're right around the corner from another sigil on the wall that's colored red and we need to get to the sewer tunnel that runs underneath it but we've hit a bit of a snag - there's a grate in the way and I don't really feel like wandering around in the dark for the rest of the fucking day. You got a map of the sewer system for this city?" He signed - with great difficulty, all of this, and judging by the confusion that flickered across Ricard's face here and there, he had only somewhat succeeded.
"Set your Xtransceiver down on something and do it again, I only caught about half of it. You need a map for what?" signed Ricard.
Ignace groaned and pulled himself out of the hole proper to set the device atop the dumpster. He signed the entire request out once again, and to his relief, Ricard nodded his head. "Yes, I can send you that immediately. Set your map to receive." Ignace complied and pulled a map from his pocket. The screen came to life and showed the entire Unova region.
"Forever and a day since I've used this thing, eh?" he muttered. He tapped a few buttons and a progress bar appeared - when it had filled the complex system of tunnels, branches and manholes that criss-crossed under Lumiose appeared. He scrolled through it, looking for his location - he was fortunate that the tunnels were (mostly) in accordance with the streets that ran above them. He turned to his transceiver and thanked Ricard in sign, "Thanks, this is going to save me a shitload of time." He waved him goodbye and pocketed the device before dropping back down into the sewer.
"Let's get going Charles." The bisharp got up from leaning against the wall and nodded. "Getting to the other side of that grate won't be hard, just need to head away from the sigil and make a few lefts and rights. Hope you're not wearing anything you like, we'll have to crawl through a branch to get to where we're going." Ignace stopped and looked back at the light pouring in from the manhole. The sound of Charles walking grew fainter, and the echoed sounds of trickling water grew louder in his ears along the sounds of his heartbeat. "Just one branch." He turned back to look down the main tunnel and saw the figure of his bisharp now a considerable distance away. "Just one branch."
Ignace caught up with Charles and waved off the inquisitive grunt the pokemon greeted him with. His flashlight cast bizarre shadows as it passed over tunnels and grates and reflected off the slick walls of the sewer that he was sure would scare most people. Like Charles. For a dark-type pokemon, the bisharp had always seemed a bit jumpy about the dark, even as a pawniard. Maybe it was normal for the line - he didn't know, as he'd never been interested enough in it to research it. Just a quirk, he figured. And a pretty funny one at that. He had to give Charles credit though: he'd only jumped twice. Maybe he was putting on an act of false bravado.
"Here we are," he said, looking down at a branch, "Let's get going." He got down on all fours and gazed in trepidation at the branching tunnel. Unease gripped him, and clenched together like a tightly knit ball in his stomach. His heart was pounding in his head again, and it was much louder than before. The main tunnels were spacious - enough that he could push it all from his mind. But this tunnel was intended to be just large enough for your average maintenance worker to fit through; judging by the size, maintenance workers hardly made enough to eat. He took several deep breaths and then crawled into the tunnel.
The ball in the pit of his stomach grew in size and weight. He felt his lungs constricting and begged himself not to hyperventilate. He felt his elbow brush against the wall of the tunnel and immediately they began to close in on him. With eyes clamped shut he squirmed through the tunnel as fast as he could and felt himself fall face first into awful smelling water. He got up, sputtering, swearing and wiping the foul liquid from his face. "For FUCK'S sake, I'm not fucking doing that when I have to go back through. Just close your eyes, what's the worse that can happen? Fucking end yourself D-, FUCK! Ignace. Fucking claustrofuckingphobia and the shitting walls closing in and my cunting lungs collapsing, FUCK!" He fell against the wall of the sewer, chest heaving and shook more sewage from his head. He pulled the wig he was wearing (red haired this time) and tossed it into the water and heaved a sigh.
He heard the various blades on Charles clink against the ground. "Alright, alright," Ignace began, taking in a deep breath, "Let's go." They set off once again and found themselves a few minutes later on the other side of the grate. He looked around, his flashlight playing against the walls and revealing nothing but still more slick brickwork.
"Was there a collapse or something?" he asked in surprise. The walls had been neat brickwork until now, but there on the wall was a patch of dirt with roughly placed bricks. It looked somewhat natural, all things considered, like the bricks had been damaged and fixed on the cheap. Perhaps someone had blown a hole in the wall? Pressed his hands against the brickwork (Charles followed suit) and pushed. Nothing. "Defensive stance Charles." The bisharp hopped back and raised his arms. Ignace banged a fist against the brickwork. The sound echoed both within the wall and without. "Figures, it's hollow." He backed away from the wall and looked it over again - and simultaneously strained his ears to listen for footsteps. The wall didn't budge, nor did he hear any footsteps approaching.
"You don't think...no. No way. It can't be something that cliche," mumbled Ignace to Charles. The bisharp cocked his head and gave a noncommittal grunt. Ignace ran his hands against the brickwork, pressing against each one in turn, and after a few minutes, one of them gave and pressed into the wall. The bricks began to come undone, sliding aside, spinning, shifting and rearranging until a rectangular hole stood before him and a tightly packed dirt path lay beyond. A peculiar purplish-blue gleam glimmered far down the newly revealed tunnel.
Uncomfortable, but not petrified. The pounding in his ears was more muted, and he was short of breath but not completely spent. He scanned the walls, the ground, the ceiling for traps, and signs of instability as he walked. And (partially) to ensure they weren't closing in on him. The ball in his stomach was moderately sized, but otherwise manageable. Once or twice dirt fell from the ceiling and landed on his head and sent Ignace into a flurry of frenzied swears as he shuffled frantically back out of the tunnel, but he composed himself after a few feet each time.
As the glow grew in intensity, Ignace noticed that the tunnel led to what looked like a small cavern. As he drew closer to the tunnel's end, Ignace noticed that the smell of sewage had faded almost completely away, only to be replaced with the scent of death. The ball in his stomach began to loosen, his breathing slowed and the pounding in his ears began to fade - only to be replaced by the mounting dread of who or what he was about to face. He reached into his jacket, for the dagger he kept sheathed in the small of his back and brought it up before him in a reverse grip. The irrational fear that had gripped him fell away completely now to the palpable sense of fear that hung in the air. He stepped into the cavern and glanced down at the ground.
"The sigil," he said in a whisper. Etched into the ground, it glowed the same eerie purple and blue hues that the bright light atop a pedestal in the center of the room did. He took a step forward, his foot crossing one of the lines of the sigil and waited. He took another step, now completely within the boundaries of the sigil.
There was a flash of light, and the bright purple and blue lights coming from the center pedestal faded to a duller blue glow. Sitting - no, floating atop the pedestal was a heart. A distressingly fresh human heart.
"They did take the heart. And used it for...this?" Ignace looked about the room and felt his head swimming. "This is bad Charles," he said aloud, "We're in deep shit. Deep, deep shit. What the fuck is even going on here?" He looked around. "Charles?" He turned his flashlight towards the entrance to the cavern and found it wasn't working. Instead, he saw the shadowed figure of his bisharp standing at the edge of the room, refusing to go any further. Ignace walked over to his pokemon and asked, "What's the matter?"
Charles pointed a shaking finger at the heart atop the pedestal and then shook his head vigorously; it was accompanied by an odd cry that fell halfway between a grunt and a yelp.
Ignace glanced at the pedestal over his shoulder then looked back at Charles. "That thing's evil right?" His pokemon nodded. Ignace raised his dagger. "I'll handle this one then." He turned around and made his way to the pedestal, then called over his shoulder, "But if there's more than one of these things, you're doing the next one." Charles's body began to shiver harder as he nodded.
Ignace poked the heart with his knife - it didn't respond. "Well, it's not beating, so that's a good thing...right?" He rubbed his chin and pressed the knife into the flesh. The dull purple glow that emanated from the heart intensified and blinded him for an instant. A wind picked up in the cavern and carried unintelligible whispers into his ears. A moment later, the room felt as if it had been voided of heat and the whispers, though still unintelligible, were beginning to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He caught shadows dancing in the corner of his eyes and heard a muffled howl behind him - but as he wheeled around he heard it to his side. It was floating about the room, springing to life here and there, and the room grew steadily colder.
Shivering slightly and his breath now visible, Ignace shouted, "That fucking it? This is your defense "your highness"? Shitty fucking tricks?" The walls shifted and dirt shook itself loose from them. Rocks cracked and crumbled and the ground itself quaked. With the sound of shifting gravel, falling dirt and stone grinding on stone, the walls started to close in around Ignace.
"FUCK YOU TOO THEN!" He shouted in equal parts rage and fear. He plunged his knife into the heart, which to his surprise began to beat rapidly. So rapidly, in fact, that he feared it might explode. All the while the howling was growing louder, the grinding and crumbling rock was closing in around him, the whispers were sounding more accusatory and murderous with each second, and somewhere in the din her could hear Charles desperately crying out to him.
It stopped. The heart fell still, impaled, and bleeding on his dagger, and the entire room became quiet at once. Ignace brought the heart up closer to his eyes to inspect it and then flipped the knife over in his hands. The heart slid slowly off the knife and hit the ground with a soft, wet slap. He crushed it under a boot and kicked the bits of flesh left in the treads off. A hand gripped his forearm, and with it came a concerned, harsh growl.
"I'm fine," replied Ignace, thoroughly relieved the walls had stopped moving, "Really, I am. Thanks for the concern though Charles." He looked down at his bisharp and gave him a weak smile. "Let's just fucking get out of here."
Ignace heaved himself out of the sewer and collapsed against the wall of the alley. The crawl back through the tiny branching tunnel had been no better than the first - though at the very least he didn't fall into the sewage again. Charles also looked thoroughly relieved as he clambered out of the sewer and sat down beside his master. "If we have to go back down into the sewers to find more of those sigils or hearts or whatever the fuck…" Ignace's voice trailed off and he let his head fall against the wall. "Why did d'Artagnan have to get all weird and prophetic on us? Things were going just fine." He turned to Charles, who nodded in agreement and then got to his feet. "Yeah, fuck this alley, I agree," said Ignace, standing himself, "Let's put this cover and dumpster back and go check the sigil on the wall."
He couldn't say he expected it, but the now colorless sigil made sense to him. "Alright, so we definitely did do something right, yeah? Cut off power or something, fuck if I know. What do you do with human hearts? Coated in purple energy? What the fuck d'Artagnan." he said aloud. He looked up at the sky - it was still a clear, light blue. "We should have enough to time to go check out another old murder scene and get back into the fucking sewers I guess." He pulled up his map and scrolled through it, looking for the location. "Found it. Perk up Charles. Remember, it's not in a great part of town."
The sounds of Charles's unhappy grunt was the only response Ignace received.
"Not a single manhole cover, Charles?" called out Ignace from the other end of the alley. A grunt of denial met his ears. He strode back to his pokemon, pensive. This alley was barren - devoid of anything save a single dumpster that hid no portal underground. He walked out of the alley and looked at the building that stood next to it - boards covered the windows and yellow tape adorned the doors. "Of fucking course, why didn't I notice this first? But now we need a way in." He looked up and down the street: few pedestrians and cars were passing by, but trying to force himself into the building would still be very conspicuous. Ignace walked back into the alley and pressed against the boards on the windows, looking about constantly for any onlookers. None budged, nor did any that faced the other alley on the other side of the building.
With a frown, he beckoned Charles to follow him and made his way down the street towards a cafe. "We'll have to come back at night. Probably with a crowbar or something." He watched bikes, gogoat's bearing passengers and taxis pass him by. He brought Charles's pokeball up to his eyes and rolled it over in his hand. "Might bring arcanine along too." He stopped outside the cafe and looked inside; it was empty save the barista and a single patron sitting off in a corner, reading a newspaper. "Or a gun," he added in undertone. He strode inside and locked eyes with the barista, "Espresso. Charles?" He looked at his bisharp.
A nod.
"Two."
The barista nodded and turned around to begin preparing the drink. "Sit wherever you like," he called out over his shoulder. Ignace chose the corner opposite the man reading the newspaper and pulled out his Xtransceiver to dial Ricard. His friend's face appeared on the display.
"Ignace. How'd it go in the sewers? You alright?" signed Ricard.
Ignace nodded. "Smell like shit, but we killed a heart or something. Floating on a pedestal, surrounded by a sigil on the ground in this chamber that was dug out of the earth."
Ricard's eyes widened and he disappeared from the display. As he came back into frame he signed, "Explain everything. Don't leave out even the meanest detail." The shuffling of papers filtered through Ignace's Xtransceiver and with the click of a pen, Ricard readied himself to take notes. "Begin."
The sigil on the ground, the purple light, the whispering winds, shifting walls, and scent of death. Ignace recalled the entire ordeal in as much detail as he could manage with fingers, hands and arms. Ricard stopped him only twice for clarification, but otherwise took notes throughout the entire recollection.
When he was finished, Ricard continued to write for several minutes and then he signed to Ignace, "Where are you?"
"Uh, the west side, way out of the main road." He paused and glanced up at the barista who's eyes lingered on Ignace for a second before he realized Igance was staring back at him, a disgusted look on his face.
"Sir, you smell hideous," said the barista, laden with a tray that bore two tiny cups.
"Astonishing observation there Looker," grumbled Ignace, tearing his eyes away from the Xtransceiver and glared up at the barista, "how'd you get so observant?"
The barista set his and Charles's espressos down set off for the bar and walked off in a hurry. "Jerkoff. Anyway, we're near the quartier rouge."
"I'd forgotten the murder happened that close to that district." He turned away from Ignace and signed at someone off-screen. "That hardly seems wise d'Artagnan."
A voice drifted through the Xtransceiver's speakers with abundant static. "It is imperative we accompany him. Both to assist and to understand. We must move, Merchant. Is the Mortician not in agreement?"
With a silent sigh, Ricard turned to face Ignace and signed, "d'Artagnan insists we come and help you. Your thoughts?"
Ignace took a sip from his espresso and thought the question over. "Charles, you think we need backup?" he asked across the table.
Charles downed his espresso, pulled a face and then shrugged his shoulders with an unenthusiastic grunt.
"Looks like Charles couldn't care less," chuckled Ignace. "Sure. I'll be back soon and we can leave together." At the look of confusion on Ricard's face he added, "Fell in sewer water. Don't ask." He paused and took another sip of his espresso to give himself time to think. "We won't be doing anything until night anyway either, so this works out great." Ricard nodded and switched off the Xtransceiver.
Really, he was lucky his knife even worked, Ignace thought. Hoping bullets would too seemed a bit of a stretch. Then again, given all that had happened, it was only just a bit of one.