Authors Note
First things first: I have no legal rights whatsoever regarding the following:
- Devil May Cry
- Devil May Cry 2
- Devil May Cry 3
- Resident Evil
- Resident Evil 2
- Resident Evil 3 Nemesis
- Grand Theft Auto III
All legal rights to the video games mentioned above belong to their respective owners/creators (Capcom & Rockstar). I merely use characters, music, items, weapons, settings, names, vehicles etc, etc, etc from these games as raw materials to write non-profitable fan fictions. Ergo, don't sue me! .
Another important issue to address is typos & grammar. I'm NOT from a country that has English as the mother language (I'm from Norway if you MUST know...), so expect to find typos, weird choice of words and grammatical errors scattered about. I do my best in sorting them out, but as we all know, no one is picture perfect.
Urban legend
It was barely a few minutes after midnight; the moon along with the stars remained hidden behind a curtain of thick and glooming looking clouds. The streets were empty, both because of the time of day and because of the neighbourhood. A lonesome silhouette peeked out from a corner, scanning the street. Hesitating at first, the silhouette suddenly dashed out into the street and only halted when its back was firmly planted into the wall on the other side of the street.
Fear was dominating in the silhouette's body language as it crept along the wall ever so cautiously. Sweat drops cutting their path across a face grimacing in horror, rapid breath and heartbeats loud as bombs dropping from B-52's shaped the outline of the silhouette. The character came under the streetlight and stepped quietly into its beam.
Generally speaking, the character didn't seem too much out of the ordinary. It was much like your average teenager spending the days of his youth having a good time until the break of dawn. However, the red iris and no pupils did make this young lad stand a little bit out, not to mention that his mouth was drenched in blood.
He bent down, trying to cope with the situation, collecting his thoughts and at the same time allowing his breathing to settle. How long had he been on the run like this? He was faster than most, but no matter where he went or how fast he got there… this thing was always right behind him. What was that?
A slight breeze danced by and carried a few torn newspaper pages down the street. A heavy sigh of relief escaped the young man's lips. Free, he'd managed to ditch the sucker after all. Then it came, calm and steady… the sound of footsteps.
Fear flared up anew. No way! Was one damn hooker worth all this trouble? The young man scanned the street up and down, before locking in on the sounds point of origin. A tall character, male, dressed in a long and heavy coat came walking from the far end of the street. A calm and steady pace, as if he had all the time in the world, that there would be no escape. Not now, not ever.
The young man finally managed to get his feet moving, which for a moment had frozen rock solid with fear. He crashed through a double door and fanatically pushed the elevator button in the hallway, only to find an «out of order» sign taped to the door. Spitting curses, the man dashed up the stairway, skipping two steps at a time.
Top floor, point of no return, if he could just find the stairway that lead to the roof, he just might get away. Looking around, his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim hallway lightning. This was one crappy apartment building he thought to himself. It probably dated back to the 1950-60's and haven't seen a paintbrush since.
The stairways from below creaked and thudding footsteps could be heard from below, climbing steadily. Panic rippled through the young man's body, it felt like could water had been poured into his veins.
When a woman at his own age came out from her apartment to carry out her trash, an idea came to his mind. Considering how badly this guy, whomever he is, dislikes seeing women hurt, the young man figured he could use that. Smirking evilly to himself, he flipped out a razor blade and grabbed the woman from behind. Naturally, the woman struggled, but she fell silent once she felt the sharp edge of the razor on her neck.
The sound of someone climbing the stairway became louder and louder. The young man's breathing picked up, even though he was standing still, his lower lip trembled and he grabbed on to the woman even harder.
A head popped up from the stairway, then the hilt of a sword, then a pair of broad shoulders, a strong back with the sword's blade running across it from right to left, the legs were for the most part covered by a heavy leather coat, save from the ankles and down, and a pair of strong arms rested on each side of this strange looking man.
He carried himself in such a confident and fearless manner. It was as if he could take on the world all by himself and only loose two drops of sweat in the process. He came to the top of the stairway and paused. His white hair almost had a self-illumination effect as it reflected the dim hallway light, creating a small halo around it. Suddenly the head bent quickly to the left then to the right, the cracking of bones could be heard in the process.
A faint sigh could be heard, as if this strange white haired man found all this like such a hassle, though driven by necessity he couldn't turn his back on it. He turned around and carried on walking at his steady and confident pace as if he was Clint Eastwood in a western movie.
«Listen up! Another step and the woman gets it, you hear!» The young man shouted, spitting as he spoke. The woman shrieked and struggled some more, but quickly calmed down to a quiet whimpering. He put on a serious expression, glaring at the man that had been chasing him.
Acting though, such a cliché, the white haired man thought. They're all like this, hard up front, but look close enough and you'll see that it's paper-thin in just about every case. Let's call his bluff, he mused to himself.
«Go ahead… kill the woman.» He said, picking up a silver gun from his gunbelt. The woman's eyes shot open big at his words, before narrowing again, not with hate, but with pleading. A car drove by in the street just outside, its front lights barely cast their rays of light through the window that stood behind the young man.
«I mean it…!» The young man said, strengthening his grip on the woman. «Why should I care? She's a stranger to me… never seen her before in my life.» The white haired man spoke as he casually loaded his gun, putting one bullet at the time into an empty magazine.
For a brief second, doubt flashed over the young man's face. Still, he regained his though composure and stood his ground. «Yeah right, I'm not going to fall for that.» He snorted. «Damn… that means that I've just lost $12.» The white haired man shook his head as he spoke.
Suddenly, without a hint of warning, the white haired man drew his pistol, now fully loaded and took aim before firing. The whole ordeal was over in a fraction of a second. The angry roar of his gun fled the hallway with lightning speed, the empty cartridge danced to it's own little metallic tune as it hit the floor, grey-bluish smoke rose to the roof and swayed around like a thick soup and the woman rested dead in the man's arms, half of the back of her head splattered over the floor, walls and roof behind her.
The young man, with half his torso covered in blood, looked at the open hole in the woman's forehead and could only stutter a few letters in stunned disbelief. «Now, with the hostage out of the way, I'm sort of curious of what you'll do next.» The white haired man mumbled to himself as he bent down and picked up the empty cartridge.
With a scream of fear and insanity, the young man threw the dead body aside and made a charge towards the white haired man, his razor raised high and ready to strike. «When will you stop being so damn predictable?» He sighed before, with a bored expression, drew his sword and swung it horizontally in front of him at throat height.
The young man stopped dead in his tracks, but before blood could spurt out from his newly cut off head, his body collapsed under its own weight and ended up as a pile of dust. Coughing slightly, the white haired man sheeted his sword across his back while waving away the dust with his right hand.
As the sun peaked over the horizon, the cloudy curtain of the night was pulled away and light bathed the streets of Raccoon City once again. An alarm clock kicked in and the radio buzzed to life. «Good morning listeners! We're ready to rock and rumble with the best music from 1985-87 here on Flashback FM. There's been a murder in the Portland area, but hey, so what else is new? The victim was a resident of…»
A hand hit the snooze button with a slapping sound. «I'm up already…» The owner of the alarm clock yawned before sitting up and stretching in bed. Leon S. Kennedy had just arrived in town and was eager to get to work. He would hate to be late on his first day at work, as you have only one chance to make a first impression.
After a refreshing shower and a quick breakfast, Leon grabbed his jacket and keys before leaving his flat. It was still kind of messy, with moving boxes scattered about and for the most part, was either unopened or half unpacked. Going down the hallway, Leon decided to skip the elevator and use the stairs for a change. He was a little tense and nervous as if it was his first day at school, so walking all the way to work might calm him down a bit.
Raccoon City was not really a small city, with its 4 million residences, but once you got a feel of the place, it could give you the impression that it was a small place after all. Leon looked around as he walked down the street, seeing how little by little the city awoke from its slumber.
The city itself is divided into 3 districts; Portland, Staunton Island and Shoreside Vale. Portland is the industrial zone. Here you'd find the docks, the red light district, warehouses, factories, markets, garages, as well as some useful suppliers if you were to swing into the shadowy side of the law from time to time.
Staunton Island on the other hand isn't really an island. True it is separated by two rivers and connected through subways, bridges and undersea car tunnels, but it isn't an island as in surrounded by miles of sea. At any rate, this is the central business district. This is where all the big businesses takes place in Raccoon City and is dominated by the rich, powerful and corporate.
Shoreside Vale gave the impression of suburban bliss and tranquillity Raccoon City style. In reality it is the home of many of Raccoon City's more affluent gangster's, Raccoon City's commuter-belt is a patchwork of swimming pools, picket fences, backyards, basketball nets, street gangs and 5 car garages.
It is littered with ostentatious mansions paid for in blood money, protected by high security guards and gates to keep the gangs of bored teenagers looking for something to do to bring some excitement to their middle class existence.
The designer dogs and the station wagons give a shallow serenity to suburbia but don't be fooled, violence and corruption are at the heart of every home, or so rumour claimed.
Leon let his mind drift around like this as he finally arrived at his new job, the R.P.D in Portland. He opened the front gate and it gave a cold metallic moan as he did. The front of the station was surprisingly deserted, but Leon didn't give it much of a thought. Walking on, he stepped up and entered the station.
The first thing that hit him was the entrance hall, and that was quite something. It was two, if not three floors tall, a balcony stretching around 3 of the 4 walls in a horseshoe like manner, solid bright brown bricks made up the walls, a lovely statue in marble stone stood pretty much in the centre and just behind it was the reception desk.
Feeling a little overwhelmed with the majestic atmosphere of the place, Leon timidly walked up to the reception desk. «Good morning sir, how can I help you?» The elderly officer behind the desk asked him as soon as he got there. «I'm Leon S. Kennedy, I…» Before he could finish, the elderly officer interrupted him. «Oh yes, the new kid on the block, eh? Well come on, I'll introduce you to the gang.» He smiled at Leon before leading the way to one of the doors along the left wall.
The door opened and Leon entered. Everyone in the room stopped doing what they were doing and measured him from head to toe with their eyes while remaining quiet. «Guys, this is Leon. He's the new guy that will take over for McCoy.» The elderly officer introduced him to the gang. An icy silence followed before someone in the back couldn't hold it back any more and shouted out: «Welcome on-board kid!» The gang beamed into smiles and laughter, firecrackers popped, party hats found their way to various heads and paper cups with soda were passed out.
Leon smiled, laughed and shook hands with his new colleagues. They chatted about various things while having some cake and soda. It wasn't until a rather foxy looking lady in a suit, skirt and glasses came in that the mood dropped.
The gang made way for her as if she was an ice queen that shouldn't be treated in any other way. «Mr Kennedy I assume? The chief would like a moment with you.» She said sounding rather formally and snobby like. «Okay, lets go then.» Leon said, putting away his cake.
The layout of the station was rather special Leon thought. If he hadn't had a guide, he'd be lost after 2 rooms. After they made it to the second floor, they had to walk around the whole balcony to the other side. After the rather long walk, they finally arrived at the secretaries office.
She took a seat behind her desk and buzzed the chief. «Sir? Mr Kennedy is ready to see you.» She said, still sounding cold as a blizzard's wind. «Very well, send him in.» The buzzer replied in a robotic like voice. «Down the hall on your left, left hand door.» The secretary said to Leon without looking up from her papers, as if she knew that he'd ask her for directions.
Leon left the secretaries office and followed her directions. Taking a small moment to fix his hair, Leon knocked politely on the door. «Come in.» Came from the other side of the door. Entering the room and closing the door behind him, Leon felt ready to meet his new chief. He was wrong.
The chief's office wasn't decorated in an expectable fashion. Hunting trophies along with some rather grotesque works of art hung on the walls and rested on shelves. Leon was taken a little aback by this quite unusual choice of decoration. «Have a seat, Mr Kennedy.» The man sitting behind the desk said.
Leon took a seat, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the dead animals gazing down on him as if he were being judged and evaluated by them. «So, you've come to our little department, in our little town, straight from the academy.» The man behind the desk mused more or less to himself as he browsed through a file.
Nodding calmly to the comment, Leon tried to relax in his chair. «Well, I'm chief Irons and I'll be looking forward to have you at my station.» Chief Irons said, actually smiling. Usually smiling puts other people at ease, but when chief Irons smiled, it had the opposite effect.
«Sir, if I may ask, is there a reason to why I was called into this meeting?» Leon wondered. «Of course there is.» Chief Irons said assuring, and again it had the opposite effect on Leon. «I just want to have a few details on the table before letting you loose in the field.» He explained.
Sounded fair enough, though as far as Leon knew he'd filled out all the sheets and forms required, he'd given them his whole life story on a silver plate. What more was there to ask about? «Do you believe in God?» Chief Irons asked, putting on a pair of glasses and getting ready to take notes.
Puzzled, Leon looked like a big question mark as he sat in the chair. «Uhm, honestly sir, I'm what one might call «Christian on paper only», if you catch my meaning.» Leon frowned. «Good, good, I catch your drift Mr Kennedy.» Chief Irons jotted down some notes before looking up.
«Do you have any faith in the supernatural at all?» Chief Irons asked then. At this point, Leon was quite literary stunned. «I don't see how...» He began, but stopped halfway as chief Irons raised his hand, indicating that he'd explain.
Chief Irons leaned back in his chair and started to explain. «You see, in this town we have a tiny little urban legend.» He began. «Weird things happens around here and in the heart of all this is one subject, one individual, one man.» Leon leaned forward, nodding his head slightly. «I can assure you that the weird cases in this town is a mere product from the twisted, distorted and sick minds that lives within the city limits.» Chief Irons said.
Leon took a small moment to think things over. Such things weren't unheard of and some cities had more than others, but what was the chief's angle? «At any rate.» Chief Irons said as he leaned over his desk again. «I need my men to catch the REAL bad guys, not chasing after some ghost that's a product of people's imagination.» He practically snorted out the last part with a poorly hidden disgust.
Choosing his words a little bit more carefully than usually, Leon replied: «You don't have to worry about me, sir. Seeing is believing I've always said.»Chief Irons on the other hand wasn't all that impressed. «That's what your predecessor, detective McCoy said.» He grunted before dismissing Leon.
Back at his new desk, Leon was busy with putting his stash in place when a co-worker came up to him. «Okay, time to get that thumb out of your ass and give you some work.» He laughed as he slapped Leon over the shoulder. «I was wondering when someone would drop that on me.» Leon, being polite, smiled back before he got a police file tossed into his lap.
Taking the file that the officer handed him, the first thing he noticed was that it was a murder and a pretty nasty one at that. They sure don't give the newcomers any slack around here, do they? Leon thought to himself.
«Name's Marvin Branagh by the way.» Marvin said over his shoulder. Following his colleague, Leon read the file as they headed over to the garage. «So what do we have here? A women found in a backstreet with her throat... erm, bitten off?» Leon said more or less to himself.
They entered a standard patrol car, with Marvin behind the steering-wheel and Leon in the back. «Yeah, and that was no dog that bit her either.» Marvin pointed out. Flipping the page, Leon saw his point in full colour images. «Holy...» Leon began, and he'd probably finished, if his stomach had let him. «He-he-he, welcome to homicide detective.» Marvin chuckled from the drivers seat.
It wasn't much of a drive. The girls name was Lei Fang, nationality Chinese, age 19, height 163cm and a weight of 50kg. «No dog, huh?» Leon asked his co-worker as they looked over the scene of the crime. The body had been removed, the C.S.I. team had swept over anything of significance. All that remained were a large stain of blood and a ghostly silhouette drawn out in white chalk.
Marvin nodded at his words. «She came home from work most likely, the laundry service around the corner and a little down the street.» He said, pointing down the street. «Met someone, chatted, got spooked, ran down this backstreet and...» Leon rose from his crouch near the blood stain.
«Met someone?» He asked puzzling. «Marvin halted his reconstruction of the course of events. «Why yeah, did you miss that part in the file?» He asked Leon. Leon raised his eyebrows for a moment before he turned his attention to the file again.
As he read it more carefully, his eyes widened. «Bite-marks on the victims neck and shoulder appears to be human!» He exclaimed. «Uh-huh, like I said, it was no dog.» Marvin nodded. «I'll head over to the noodle shop and ask the owner the standard questions.» He told Leon, strangely enough acting rather unaffected by the nature of the crime.
Nodding, Leon spun slowly around on his heels, taking in the scenery. That's when he noticed it. He felt as if a pair of eyes were watching him. Could it be the killer? It wasn't uncommon for killers to return to the scene of the crime to gloat over their deed. If you're sick enough to nearly bite a girls head off, you sure are sick enough to come back to remember the «good times».
Being calm and cautious, Leon reached inside his jacket and pulled out his gun. It was a H&K VP70 manufactured by H&K Germany, using 9mm parabellum rounds. It wasn't much of a deviation from the standard sidearm that police officers used. The standard was a Browning HP, manufactured by FN, Belgium, which also used 9mm parabellum rounds.
The main reason for Leon's deviation was bullet capacity. The VP70 had 18 bullets total, 17 in the clip and 1 bullet in the barrel. The Browning on the other hand had only 13 bullets total, 12 in the clip and 1 in the barrel. Although the guns packed roughly speaking the same fire-power, it couldn't possible hurt to have 5 bullets extra.
Leon got a good grip around his gun and walked slowly towards where he assumed his watcher was standing. «Okay, quit playing games. This is a crime scene, come out whomever you are.» He called out to the empty street. A dripping sound gave away the spectator's location.
Straight from the book, Leon rounded the crates and put his gun in front of himself. «R.P.D! Put your hands where I can see them.» He called out to the man that just stood there. «Relax, I'm just taking a piss here.» The man replied, completely unaffected by Leon's barking orders or his gun for that matter.
The man finished his business and raised his hands calmly. Tilting his head slightly, he looked at Leon. «G'day officer. Was there something in particular that you wanted, other than show me your shiny pistol?» He asked Leon, soundly mildly amused. Leon took a moment to look at the man more carefully.
He was tall, a good 200cm, give or take 10cm, looked like he was in either his mid or late 20's, silver white hair, ice blue eyes and weighing a good 90kg. There was something about this man that just got Leon spooked on a primal level, as if it was an instinct to avoid people like this man.
Although he was smirking, it was obvious as daylight that whomever crossed this man's path didn't live to tell the tale unless he wanted it that way. Being dressed in a mix of dark red and black solid leather, the man looked like he had been spat out of some Gothic themed anime show. Only thing missing was a huge sword and you'd have the whole package, Leon thought to himself.
Even though the sword was missing, Leon quickly noticed that the man was indeed armed with a pistol of his own. Pistol might be an understatement, the thing looked more like a small sized cannon. «Do you have a firearms license for that toy of yours?» Leon asked, nodding down at the gun.
The man was slightly offended by his question, as if he'd say: «of course, never leave home without it» with his facial expression alone. Slowly, the man fished out a piece of paper and handed it gently over to Leon. Even when he scanned through the firearms license, Leon didn't take the chance of lowering his gun. This guy reeked too much of trouble for that.
However, the firearms license checked out, making Leon feel a little bit more at ease, though not by much. «Where's the other gun? It says here you have two, custom made both of them.» Leon asked. The man gently turned slightly around so that his other side was visible to Leon. There it rested on the man's other thigh.
Cute, this guy wears a gunbelt as if he was some sort of cowboy, Leon mused. «What are you doing here?» He asked the tall silvery haired man. «First I took a stroll, then I wanted to pick up my laundry at the store around the corner when I needed to take a piss.» He explained. «That's it?» Leon asked sceptically. The man nodded.
Putting his gun away, Leon figured that he might as well ask the man some of the same question Marvin were asking the owner of the laundry service. «I'd like to ask you some questions.» He began. The man rolled with his eyes, but decided to humour Leon nevertheless.
«Do you use Mr Fu's laundry service often?» Leon asked, fishing up a notepad and a pen from his jacket pocket. «I'm one of his oldest customers.» The man replied quickly. «Are you familiar with this girl?» Leon asked, handing over a recently taken photo of the deceased. «Lei Fang, cute girl who worked part time at the laundry service, killer body, no boyfriend to my knowledge and she's my type too.» The man shrugged before he turned the picture back to Leon.
Leon jotted down some more notes before he moved on to the next question. «No boyfriend, huh?» He mumbled more or less to himself as he looked over his notes. Glancing up at the man two things puzzled Leon.
First off the man had yet to ask what this was all about, which most people do when questioned by the police and they don't tell you straight away what the questioning is all about. The people who didn't was either involved, they knew something or was too used to this kind of thing to give a flying fuck.
The second thing was of course that they were just a few feet away from a blood stain large as a unfolded bed sheet. The man remained unaffected or perhaps he hadn't noticed just yet. Leon assumed that this guy had seen blood before and been entangled into cops before, since he acted as if this was a daily thing to him.
«Did you know Ms Fang well?» Leon asked. «She was working hard to save money for a china dress she wanted to have tailor made for her.» The man replied. «That's not much of an answer.» Leon objected. «The master tailor was out when she stopped by, so she gave her order to his apprentice.» The man carried on, ignoring Leon's objections.
Leon raised an suspicious eyebrow. Why was this guy telling him this? «Just answer the question yes or no.» He said finally. «I've told you all that I know officer. You'll be on your own from here on. Now if you'll excuse me.» The man said before he left for the laundry service.
If it had been someone else, Leon would probably have held him or her back for more questions, but with this guy... there was just no way Leon could summon the courage to go against him. Just standing near that man – it made Leon feel fear crawl around his bones. All he could do was watch as the man walked around the corner and out of view.
Not long after that, Marvin came back. «What's with you? You look like you've seen a ghost.» Marvin said in a worried tone. «I interviewed this by passer and... for some reason he gave me the creeps.» Leon sighed, actually feeling better now that he wasn't alone anymore. «Just let it rest buddy.» Marvin advised.
Back on the station, Leon went over his notes to write a report. After reading through the notes, he felt that there was something missing. Replaying the interview in his mind, he remembered that the strange man didn't answer his last question, he'd said something else. What was it again? Something about a dress and a tailor, no a tailor's apprentice, that's what it was.
Leon's computer screen illuminated his desk and he sat there, looking at it, resting his hands at the top of his head. How very frustrating. The universe didn't make much sense at times such as these. Perhaps the guy was too scared to raise answers that could make certain people in China-town look bad? No, that wasn't it. It was something different, something obvious as... trust.
«If you're going after D, you better do your homework first.» A woman's voice came from behind. Leon slowly turned around in his chair and looked over his shoulder. There, in the doorway stood a woman, dressed in a dark pink dress, flat black shoes, big black belt around her waist, ear short hair and a white lab coat with an ID tag on her left side. «D?» He asked her puzzled.
The woman entered the room, a slow, calm and collected pace. «Dr Ada Wong, the forensic geek around here.» She said, offering a handshake. «Leon Kennedy, homicide.» Leon replied, taking her hand and shaking it. Warm, soft and gentle hand with a firm handshake he noted. Lovely perfume too.
«D is just a short for Dante, the P.I. you ran into during your trip to the crime scene.» She said. «Why should I do any homework around a P.I. that looks more like a freelance mercenary?» Leon asked her, offering her a cup of coffee.
Dr Wong accepted and chugged it down without a flinch despite being steaming hot. «He's our urban legend, you shouldn't get involved unless you're willing to go the full mile, like me.» She said, crunching the paper cup in her hand before tossing it in the trashcan.
Leon gave her a suspicious look. «By saying that, you're just making me more interested.» He said after a while. «Either that or scared enough to let it be.» Dr Wong said, narrowing her eyes. «Like Marvin?» Leon asked directly. «Like Marvin.» She agreed with a faint nod, not taken aback by his bluntness.
Thinking over what to ask next, Leon figured he might as well go down the painfully obvious path for a while. «I take it that you're the one that's the victim's dissector?» He asked the doctor. She cast a small glance at him, as if she wondered if he was really that dumb to be serious with his question.
«Yes, I'm the only one in town qualified.» Dr Wong replied. Leon had to ask a question which answer would most likely trouble him regardless of its nature. «What makes you think that the victim was bitten by a human?» He asked her, holding his breath as he awaited her reply.
«Cold hard evidence detective.» Dr Wong replied indifferently. «No idea of who did it?» Leon asked, shrugging a little as he spoke. «Not really, I just gather the facts, you put them together to make the grand picture.» She said, not affected by the subject at hand.
As far as Leon could tell, Dr Wong had her hands on dry land, yet that didn't mean that she was automatically telling him the whole story. He was after all the new kid on the block, so there was a lot of internal issues he'd to cut through. «Why do I get the feeling that you're holding back key issues related to the case.» Leon decided to move a little over to the offensive.
Leon had to admit that he was a little worried that his comment would either scare Dr Wong away or put their newly founded relationship on unsteady ground. «Just follow the pieces detective, then the full picture will reveal itself to you.» Dr Wong replied before she left.
Following the pieces was just the thing to do, whether it was Dr Wong's advice or not. As far as Leon was concerned, there was just one loose thread left to wind up; the tailor that this Dante character mentioned. Of course there was Dante himself, however Leon was reluctant to go down that path.
Taking a drive to China-town, Leon looked around to see if there was a tailor shop near the scene of the crime. Leon slapped his forehead slightly. Dante did mention that the girl had worked a lot to save money for the dress, so she probably told her employer all about it. Surely he would know where the tailor shop was.
Walking in to Mr Fu's laundry service, Leon quickly spotted the owner of the establishment. Gen Fu was a Chinese man at the age of 65, 170cm tall, blue eyes (quite unusual for an Asian), white shaved hair and beard. His english was so and so, but Leon managed to get himself understood and Mr Fu drew down a small map for him.
Under the guidance of the map given to him by Mr Fu, Leon navigated the crowded streets of China-town until he stood in front of a quite small tailor's shop. Much to his disappointment, the shop was currently closed. Leon would have to go through some different channels to get inside, but that would take the rest of the day.
After calling a judge to get a warrant, Leon decided to do some general digging after clues that would shine more light on this P.I. named Dante. The question was where to start. Leon didn't have his full name, address or phone number. A P.I. usually had a office of some sort, so he might be listed in the yellow pages.
Walking up to the nearest phone booth, Leon scanned through the yellow pages looking for the name Dante. It was after all a little unusual name, so he could hit the jackpot. After looking through the pages for the third time, Leon figured it was no good. «Better call it the day and get some rest.» He said to himself as he stretched and yawned a little.
Early the next day Leon was more than ever determined to find out every little piece of information on this Dante character. Best bet was to go after Dr Wong and pump her for what she was worth and take it from there. A good plan that went down the drain once Leon learned that Dr Wong had cashed in 3 days worth of holiday to take a long weekend off duty out of town.
No cellphone, no bleeper, no address, no nothing. When she skipped town, there were no loose threads. It made Leon wonder why, but decided to put his energies elsewhere. The police did most likely have a file on the guy. Since Leon never got his last name it would make it a little bit harder to look him up, but it was still doable. After all, he was a detective.
Leon headed over to Marvin's office to try his luck there. «Good morning Marvin.» Leon greeted him as they met at the soda machine not too far away from Marvin's office. «Morning Leon, you're an early bird aren't you?» Marvin replied, cheerful as always. «Listen, I need to check some thing's up and was wondering if you could help me out.» Leon started off casually enough not to scare Marvin off.
«I'm in for a rather calm day today, well at least in theory as you never know.» Marvin laughed, but clearly agreed to help Leon out the best he could. «Do we have a file on that P.I. I met yesterday? Dante?» Leon asked, praying that Marvin wouldn't be spooked. Marvin's cheerfulness faded away at Leon's question.
Shit, Leon thought. He's going to bail out on me. «Listen, a small word of advice; don't go down there, man.» Marvin said seriously. «Just point me out to the file, if there is one, and I'll do the rest on my own.» Leon told him, hoping that Marvin at the very least had the nerve to get that much involved. «I don't know, man.» Marvin looked around nervously. Was he seriously suspecting that Dante would pop out of nowhere like some sort of boogie-man?
«Just don't go there, man. If you have to, just ask around at the archive, but don't do it.» Marvin said before making a hastily departure. Left alone, Leon was puzzled and quite amazed that one guy could scare a cop so much. Dr Wong did mention that Dante was somewhat of an urban legend, but this was surreal.
Arriving at the archive, Leon asked the guys working there for the file on Dante. The two guys working there, looked at one another, then at Leon. «You're the new guy, right?» One of them asked. «Yeah, just arrived yesterday.» Leon said. «Makes sense then.» The other archivist said to the first one. «What makes sense?» Leon asked puzzled. «Well, all the guys here know that there's no file on Dante.» The first one explained.
Leon's heart sank down in defeat. Could a guy like Dante keep his hands so dry and clean that the cops had nothing on him? Marvin did mention that Dante had friends in high places, so maybe... Leon's thoughts were interrupted by the second archivist's next words: «Yeah, when it comes to Dante there's not enough room for everything in a single file.» A glimpse of hope.
«So there are many files on him then?» Leon insisted, ignoring that the two archivists had played a little trick on him. «Yes, many files.» The first one said. «I'd like to see them, all of them.» Leon said. «All 3000?» The second archivist frowned at Leon. 3000...?
For the rest of the day, Leon sat at his desk, browsing through a ton of material, all about this «urban legend» called Dante. They were all cases, charges for just about everything imaginable, but not one case had got Dante convicted. It was so out of this world that Leon thought he was on the brink of something big.
The cases were old as dust, some of them almost 20 years old. For the majority of the cases, they were dropped because of the status of the evidence, lack of it or witnesses bailing out, altering their testimony or some other last minute changes in the prosecution's plan.
A selected few cases had Dante standing side by side by some top dollar attorney that could convince any given judge and jury that Santa Clause killed J.F.K., or at least so their reputation claimed. At any rate, there was no way Dante could afford this kind of legal protection. Someone rich and powerful was slipping big dollars under the table on Dante's behalf. Why?
A good hour after lunch Leon had finally came up with something useful. It was a list of some very special individuals that, from time to time, had both hired Dante and helped him out when he was dragged to court for whatever reason. «I guess I better get going. The answers aren't dropping into my lap, so I'll have to hunt them down myself.» Leon sighed and left to interview the people on his list.
First stop was Luigi Leone, a guy that ran and owned the «Sexclub 7» in the red-light district. It wasn't the kind of joint that Leon'd hang around on Saturday nights, but that was beside the issue. Walking up to the bar, he asked around for Luigi and when the barkeeper asked who was asking, Leon just put his badge on the table.
A couple of minutes later Luigi came over and took a seat at Leon's table. «New kid on the block, huh?» Luigi grunted, acting as if he was somebody. It was all a facade, a paper-thin facade. «Tell me about this guy.» Leon said, also putting up an tough act, as he handed Luigi a big black and white photo. «Cute guy, your boyfriend?» Luigi asked.
Leon put up a fake smile, then turned serious. He wasn't going to budge, even if this guy was a pimping gangster with a Mafia family to back him up. «Listen kid, I'm gonna be straight with you.» Luigi said, leaning forward and putting the photo away. «Stay away from D, you hear?»
That didn't take long, Leon thought. «Would you be angry if I didn't?» Leon asked, not backing down. «Angry? Hell no, it's just that... it ain't worth it kid.» Luigi said. «What is?» Leon insisted. «You know, getting involved.» Luigi said as if it explained everything. «I'll take my chances, now are you going to tell me what you know or what?» Leon asked.
Luigi leaned back in his seat, rubbing his lips and chin while weighing one option against the other. «Okay, the guy comes here on a regular basis. He's a fine customer, treats the ladies with respect and that's about it.» He said finally. He's scared and holding back, Leon thought. «Is that why you put in $500.000 to get him a decent attorney a few months back?» Leon asked, casually throwing a copy of the file on the table.
After a small pause he added: «He must be one hell of a customer indeed.» Luigi was clearly getting uncomfortable in his seat. He couldn't wiggle himself out of this one, but telling the truth was clearly not an option either. «He's... done some... favours for me in the past.» He admitted.
«Favours?» Leon asked, nodding as if urging Luigi to continue. «Yeah, we go way back.» Luigi said, fixing himself a smoke. «School buddies?» Leon asked. «No.» Luigi said, in a tone that suggested that Leon was a moron for thinking so. «What kind of favours?» Leon asked, letting Luigi's little insult slide.
Puffing out smoke, Luigi looked around at his place. It was a nice place, if you were into that kind of thing that is. First thing you saw when entering was a huge T shaped stage with poles in it for the girls to swing around on. On the side walls were mini stages with a single pole in the same fashion as the main stage. The the back, to the left was the bar and in the lower right corner there was a sofa corner. Other than that, various tables and chairs were scattered about.
«You see this joint?» Luigi asked. «Scum used to hang around here, then D came along and cleaned it up real nice. It allowed me to establish my business, you know.» Leon felt that he'd pushed his luck far enough. «Scum» was a big and quite vague term amongst guys like Luigi, but at least it was something. Dante wasn't just a P.I. after all.
Next man on the list, Toni Leone. He ran a little outdoor restaurant along with his retired mother. This time, a badge wasn't enough to get questions asked. Leon was practically thrown out and told that if he ever wanted anything in here aside from a casual meal, he'd better bring a warrant.
Joey Leone was a young guy who worked at his own garage down by the harbour. «Yeah, I know D, he's a guy you can count on whenever you're in a pinch.» Joey said, sniffing a little as he spoke. «I've heard that's he done some favours for Luigi in the past.» Leo said, hinting towards Joey. «Nothing like that around here. I had him stake out one of my girls a couple of years back, but that was a job, not a favour.» Joey replied, still sniffing.
«Was there a reason why you had her staked out by Dante?» Leon asked curiously, since it seemed like overkill to him. «I never got to meet her during the day, always after sunset she told me. I figured that she was double-dealing, so I wanted D to check it out.» Joey explained. «Was she?» Leon asked, clearly pushing his luck. «Nawh, she was just sleeping all day long, so I dumped her.» Joey answered.
Looking at his list, Leon figured that all three of them had something to hide. They might be telling the truth, but they weren't telling it flat out. The last half was being held back. Where these guys afraid of Dante? How could key individuals in an Italian Mafia family be afraid of one guy?
Perhaps Salvatore Leone had some answers. He was after all, top on the food-chain, at least in that Italian Mafia. Getting in wasn't easy, since Mr Leone was a busy man with a lot of things to attend. No doubt, these guys practically owned all of Portland, aside from China Town and a few streets reserved for the Diablos street-racing gang.
Although it took some effort and a lot of waiting, Mr Leone didn't disappoint. It was more on the contrary. «Dante is a good friend of this family. He's been generous, helpful and over the years, proven to be quite irreplaceable to us.» The aged Mr Leone said. «Luigi mentioned that he'd helped him getting his business established by cleaning it up for scum and your son, Joey, said he used Dante to stake out one of his former girlfriends.» Leon summarized.
Mr Leone nodded at Leon's summary. «And that's just a fraction of what he has done for us, and in most cases he didn't charge us a cent.» Leon took a small leap of faith and said: «Your younger brother, Toni, seemed quite reluctant to discuss Dante with me.» Mr Leone smiled at Leon. «His mother has a bad experience with cops and she did raise him after all.» Mr Leone apologized.
Feeling a little braver thanks to his previous success, Leon went out «fishing» again. «How can one man become irreplaceable for someone like you and your family?» He asked. «By doing the things that no other man can or are willing to do.» Mr Leone smiled. Judging from his tone of voice, Leon figured that the meeting was over. A few minutes later he was proven right.
It was getting late and Leon decided to head back to his apartment to get some rest. He still had 2 more people on his list to interview, but right now it'd be both rude and dangerous to ask questions. After all, tomorrow was another day.
From the shadowy alley across the street a figure watched Leon's movements as he caught a cab and drove off. The figure remained still, sitting on a motorcycle, lost in thought. It picked up a cellphone and speed-dialed a number. It rang a few times before there was a reply at the other end. «It's me, what did the cop want?» The figure asked. It listened to the answer and then hung up.