A/N: I think cases like those are one of few reasons Hugh accepted the Hamatos so easily. XD Duckie, you know more than anyone things just get worse.

CHAPTER 05: TRACE

Hugh pressed his cell phone closer against his ear to better hear his best friend over the financial buzz and construction that flocked around Lower Manhattan, despite the late hour.

"You sure?" Blaine asked.

"Positive."

"I got no problem backing you up."

"I don't need backup to talk to a girl."

There was a sudden laugh. "Liar. Without me as a wingman, you'd still be single."

"I've had other girlfriends before you came along."

"Who dropped you like a hot potato."

"Besides, I caught Rina with my own charm."

"Charm? What charm? You took her to a damn Taco Joe's for a first date."

Hugh made a face, even if the call wasn't visual. "She told me she'd go anywhere I thought special."

"Which was woman code for 'treat me.' My Lord, it's a universal marvel she gave you the time of day after that, let alone another date."

"See? Charm."

"Uh-huh. Pretty sure she just got tired and settled."

"I don't have to take this kind of abuse." The detective bumped shoulders with an unapologetic woman too big for her dress-suit and almost dropped his cell from the force. "Go to Kai's play," he added. "You won't have many chances like this left when she needs pulled from school."

"Yeah, alright."

"Tell her sorry I couldn't make it."

"You mean Kai or Rina?"

"Both."

The phone line crackled with a sigh as Hugh jogged across Pine Street to continue along Pearl. "So, where'd that kid say Miriam's holed up?"

The detective ducked below the scaffolding construction that covered the next sidewalk and hid him from the setting sun's warmth. "You got time for this? Thought you were driving."

"Traffic. I have a few minutes to figure out where I should send my search party if you get yourself killed."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just tell me before I get pissed and smoke the last of my cigarettes."

"Fine. Remember that dummy HQ for Black Lotus?"

Blaine snarled. "How can I not?"

"Well, after the whole Little Red business and the New Jersey bust, it was condemned, right? Repossessed when the company went under?"

"She's squatting there? You sure?"

"Zeke may be a narc, but he's not dumb. During their first dealings, he'd give Miriam tips on where to find gangsters then follow to confirm where she took them."

"Tailed her?"

Hugh hummed then turned at the next block corner, heading down Beaver Street towards a distant fat skyscraper almost the size of Foot Tower. "Kid's curious, and if he could sell dirt on her later?"

"Working all angels. Crafty little bastard."

"Not crafty enough to escape his consequences any longer."

"You have a knack for catching kids like that."

"Call it a gift. And like the others, I have plans for him, too."

"So," Blaine paused, "that's where Miriam took Hun's guys? Black Lotus?"

"Guess it must've been the pick-up point for the...bodies." The detective tensed at the idea; to think a young woman like Miriam could neutralize dozens of street-hardened criminals and survive Hun's wrath was unnerving enough without the bombshell of how she did so. That was a topic for another day, though, after he had the chance to confirm it. "Miriam meets Zeke in different locations. Smart enough to know habit makes tracing easier. But he followed her again."

"And she goes there. That kind'a makes sense. All things considered, it would be the next familiar place and overlooked by police."

Hugh cleared his throat.

"Except you, Super Detective. Still, it worries me that despite the caution, she's fixated on a single place at the end of the day."

"She has a plan, Blaine, working on something. Big."

"Any clue what?"

"According to Zeke? Something to do with plants. Then some loot from Oswald."

"That place really gets screwed over. How have they stayed in the green?"

"By remaining a leading cybernetics company. Look, Blaine, I'm here. I'll let you know what I find."

"You better."

Hugh hung up with a snort and smile, though his amusement faded as his eyes lifted to the shuttered-up building that had remained lifeless for well over a year and a half. The sunset left glares across its dusty windows and with plywood sealing the front entrance, the detective knew he stood a good chance of avoiding a scene and questions if he searched the base for an alternate way in.

'I get paid to find things. Shouldn't be so hard, right?'

Hugh nodded then ducked under the leftover crime tape that blocked off nearly half the narrow sidewalk running in front of it. A two-story-high fence with barbwire rails guarded the alleys on both sides, but a few kicks in the right spots gave way to where a section had been cut then disguised as whole again. His dress shirt caught the jagged edges as he slipped through then tore loudly when the man jerked free into the cluttered passage. With a curse, he prodded the hole, noting a stinging gash along his ribs and the blood that stained his fingers.

"This is just sad," he grumbled. "Welp, I'll be telling Blaine I got in a knife fight."

"Isn't that considered falsifying a report?"

Hugh spun with a jolt. In seconds, he drew his concealed pistol, steadied the weapon atop his stub wrist, and glared at a pixie-haired Dominican in a crop-top hoodie and jeans. "Dammit, Jezebel!" he cried.

Jez raised a brow, arms akimbo. "Jumpy much?"

The man heaved a big breath to calm his shot nerves while holstering his pistol. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?"

"I told you I'll handle this."

"She's my sister."

"And one of the last people she wants to see right now." Icy green eyes struck the detective. Still, he maintained composure. "I'm sorry. We both know it's true."

"I don't care," Jez said through clenched teeth. "We're not going anywhere."

"We're?" A hand landed on Hugh's shoulder. The suddenness made his heart race, though when he met Damien's dark stare, the surprise evolved into frustration. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Like I'd let Jez come alone."

"Neither of you should be here! Jezebel, you're a civilian, and Damien, this could jeopardize your position at—" Hugh froze with knit brows. "Hold on. How'd you even know where I was? You don't know Zeke, and even if Blaine called, it wouldn't have been enough time for—"

"Jez made Donatello track your phone," Damien interjected.

"He what?"

"Not that hard, considering his skills," Jez added. She folded her arms, which lifted her hoodie's hem just below her bust. "I don't know him as well as you, but at least he had the decency to tell me about Miriam's records."

"He's gone through those already?"

"Yeah, and he didn't trust you'd share what they said."

"Really?"

"I'll tell you all about it."

"And here's the 'if.'"

"If you let us come with you."

"I could always call Don myself."

"He promised not to say anything."

Hugh blanched when the Dominican smirked. 'Damn turtle. I know he feels obliged to give information, but I'm the cop here.'

"So?" she added. "We got a deal?"

Groaning, the detective caught Jez's and Damien's expectant faces with hardened eyes and spoke in a tone that left no room for debate, "We do this, you listen. You tell no one. And whatever happens, I take point. Got it?" The kids were smarter than to argue against a leader with three decades of experience; they nodded then fell in line as Hugh directed to various debris in the alley. "Get digging."

"Uh," Damien tapped his sneaker against the concrete, "I hope you don't mean literally. I left my jackhammer at home."

"You said you want to help, help."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Jez asked. She listened, however, and began moving materials.

"Another way inside,"Hugh answered.

Damien scoffed. "This joint doesn't have a basement door?"

"No obvious one. So, help. Look for anything abnormal."

"A secret entrance?"

"It isn't something that just happens in movies. Trust me." The younger African-American made a noise of displeasure, but when the detective turned, he was already complying. Good. "Alright, Jez. Spill it. What'd Don dig up?

"Mir was a handful, according to Wells," Jez started. "Irate, hysterical, prone to violent fits. It earned her a lot of solitary time."

"I'm sorry," Hugh said instinctively.

"It's my fault. Should've kept a better eye on her, but I was so busy with school that..." Jezebel sighed, pushing over a broken couch that had somehow made its way to a trash pile. "She was never very stable," the Dominican continued. "When we were little, if Davie or I took something without permission or had something she wanted, she wouldn't let us know right away how mad she was. She waited until we forgot then stole our stuff. We'd never find it again, whether she destroyed the things or sold them or hid them. Mami would get upset, though she never found an effective punishment. Mir took everything in stride and just..."

Hugh overturned some rotted plywood dotted with browned blood, shifting buckets aside to look for a hidden door or manhole cover. "The few times I've met Miriam made her seem enigmatic. Like she has a secret below her smile. I've seen it before in"—the man hesitated with worry—"psychopaths."

"That was part of Wells' early diagnosis," Jez admitted. Whether her voice strained from emotion or exertion, Hugh didn't know. "He quickly noticed Mir would manipulate the nurses to unbind her in solitary. She'd always slip into a rant about the Hamatos, though, and end up right where she started. So he decided to play into her delusion. He thought it'd be the best way to get to the core of her issues."

"Her issues focus on revenge."

"That's what we know," Damien said, hands roaming the skyscraper's concrete base. "Mir is scary perceptive, though. She not only figured out what Wells was trying to do, but she also victimized herself."

"Classic."

"Yeah, she made Jez the central cause of her pain. And Wells believed her."

"She made him believe I was there," Jez spat. "That I helped kill Mami and Davie. That I was inspired when the Forty-Fours gunned Papa down on duty. That in order to 'escape consequences' I fabricated the Hamatos and forced my 'lie' on her."

"You should read his notes." Damien sent a snide look over his shoulder to the older African-American. "He lists Mir at first as a possible psychopath then amended it to an impressionable, vulnerable youth prone to believe in the last family she has left at the expense of her sanity."

Hugh found another piece of plywood to search under. "In other words, his records claim Jez broke her."

"Bullshit!" Jezebel tossed something heavy; Hugh had no idea what because by the time he faced her, she busied herself by stomping a mutilated wood frame into pieces. When it cracked, Damien crossed the alley to wrap his girlfriend in a tight, silent hug. She trembled, distant eyes glaring into nothingness. "Why would she do that? Turn it all on me? I didn't mean for...I didn't know! I..."

"She worked the system, Jez," Hugh told her. "It isn't the first or last time it'll happen, either."

"She—she managed to make it into general population," the Dominican added. "Lower security. More freedoms. She made a friend that surprised Donatello."

"Who?"

"Ryan Bridge."

Bridge? Now, why was that surname familiar? Wait, could it be?

Hugh let the plywood crash onto the ground. "You mean Angel Bridge's brother?"

"Yeah. He and Mir became close."

"Ryan was admitted for schizophrenia if I recall. There was...an incident?"

"Involving what?"

Hugh reflected on the answer, but he had heard and read so many reports in his career that most blurred together.

"The turtles, Hugh!" Jezebel huffed then separated from her boyfriend. "Ryan had been cleared to leave long ago. Because of the turtles, though, he didn't want to be discharged. He chose to stay where he felt safer. Until he met Miriam."

"He's out too?"

"And under far less scrutiny."

"Did you notify his sister?"

"What for? She's out of state, and if he's with Mir, I don't want her muddying the situation."

"And what do you think you're doing, hum?"

"Death Angel can get her brother after I get my sister. That's just how it's gunna be."

"I think she deserves a little better." Hugh watched the Dominican grow more aggressive in her haste. Her muscles quivered, she sniffled, and the detective ached for her. "Hey, we'll find her, Jezebel. No one disappears without a trace."

"The Phantoms do."

"Well, your sister isn't a Phantom, is she?"

"No," Jez lowered her tone, "I fear she's becoming something much darker…"

"You can help her, Babe," Damien butted in. "I know it. If we can ever find a way into this damn place!" The cadet kicked a plastic bucket with a growl. It bounced off the plywood pile Hugh had searched and ricocheted back towards the building, rumbling downward behind where Jez tossed the couch. "Hear that?" he asked.

Hugh scooted the couch away to peer into a rut along the base's rim. "It's a window?" he asked.

"Strange place for it," Jez noted.

"Who has windows on the floor?" asked Damien.

Hugh peered further over the slender opening for a better view, though he could hardly make anything out, save a blue haze and large, insulated cables. "A better question would be, who opened it?"

The three met each other's gazes then yelped when the ground folded inward to send them free-falling into the depths.