Chapter 9: Into Darkness

Another night in Seattle…

Another cold and damp night…

The rain's picking up steam in these later months, reminds one that the end of the year is rapidly approaching.

The weather doesn't bring despair this time. For once, Mark observes these rainy nights with a glint of hope in his eyes.

He stands at his office window looking out at the glowing city and the moving lights of the highway, his breath fogging up his sights.

He hadn't seen his mysterious, robotic informant since that night. There was reason to say he was abandoned, or simply imagined the encounter.

But those words wouldn't escape his mind: "Get justice for the dead. Isn't that why you still wear the badge?"

Out there, the city he loved was in danger from an unknown threat.

But out there…was also the truth.

Fire crackled in his ears.

"D-Dad…!" Screamed a scared girl, as he curled his fingers against the window.

The roof was collapsing all around him. His body sweating, every ounce of willpower pushing him forward.

Through the flames…he saw that white blur.

His head throbbed and blocked his advances. He pulled away from the window and sighed, reaching for the aspirin on his desk.

After taking two with some milk, he tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way towards the roof.

The station was full, rookies taking on reports of highway speeding and a few attempted robberies downtown.

But to him it was empty. Vida had to take an assignment uptown for a few days.

The humdrum of the night would've been fine if he had a decent conversation to pass the time.

Instead, his buddy was a smoke, and a BIC electric lighter.

Up on the roof the rain came down in a fine mist, adding a little atmosphere to his solitude. The city looked even more beautiful.

He almost regrets enjoying this scenery when there's work to be done.

Especially when he's neglecting something very important to him…

He only got a few puffs in before his phone's vibration sparked haste.

A few clicks and swipes and his police app showed reports of suspect activity from a city man in his apartment.

"Could be…" Mark clicked his tongue, flicked the cigarette into the puddle at his feet, then darted for the garage.

Sirens blared as he drove through the quieter streets and made his way up north.

A stun gun, a pistol, and a few sets of cuffs were all he had on hand.

"If I run into those kinds of criminals here…" He thought with concern.

…It would have to do.

In his haste he almost ran a red light. But he made it to his destination unharmed, and steady.

The report was only a few minutes ago, but they said they saw two shady figures moving down an alleyway near the Highway 99 bridge.

So given that path, they'd have to be moving up the canal…

He readied his gun and sprinted closer to the canal, imprinting the armory of 'Dregs' in his eyes.

And sure enough, there were two men sneaking out of view down the old trail. This late at night no one would think to look for men like them, even with their outfits on.

Why such a small platoon though? With how quick S.A.N.C.T.U.M. dispatched the last group it made sense to increase numbers, not decrease.

They weren't able to get any information out of the detained group, and once they recovered they were sent to a facility further north to carry out their sentence.

But this time the 'Dregs' members were conscious. He could have a chance to perform an interrogation of his own, maybe pin down information the others couldn't…

He skirted his feet along the ground slowly and bit his lip. The chance was his to take…but was he acting prematurely?

That machine hadn't shown. His enemy was in HIS city.

"..." He picked up his pace a little bit and ended up kicking up a stray can thrown on the ground.

The soldiers flinched and immediately turned upon his location. He drew his gun in response but was surprised when neither soldier fired theirs.

He glanced back quickly at the buildings behind him and realized he was safe. Because if these soldiers were packing armor piercing rounds, they bullets would easily tear through him and into the building, putting more attention onto them.

His pistol had a new top of the line silencer that actually completely negated the bang of the bullets, so he quickly took advantage of the soldiers' caution to fire two shots at the top of their wrists to disarm them.

He then surveyed his surroundings and snatched up a trash can lid nearby and slid down the slope, banging it against one criminal's head to knock him flat on his stomach.

He then used the lid to block a knife attack from the other soldier, the blade heating up and melted right through.

He threw the lid to the ground quickly enough that it forced the knife out of his grip. He then reached for his stun gun only for the soldier to grab his wrist and throw him overhead.

Mark's back lurched in pain and the soldier quickly moved to try and crack his skull. Mark rolled away and with the stun gun still firmly in his grasp, he shocked the soldier in the right leg with enough volts to get him on the ground.

Mark then quickly got up, but the pain in his back dragged his feet along to the soldier. Nevertheless, he managed to cuff him while trying to control his emotions as he told him, "Alright, you're going to answer some questions on the way back to the-"

He heard a trigger click behind him and hesitated to stare death in the eyes, but did so anyway. The other soldier had picked up his AK-20 and was one second off from putting a bullet through his ears.

Then, the machine man S.A.N.C.T.U.M. appeared beside the soldier from the water's surface and grabbed hold of the barrel, crunching it down and then tearing the gun away.

He then applied enough pressure from his fist to lay the soldier down flat on the ground.

It was incredible to witness such a powerful machine attacking like it was made of water.

From the machine emerged the voice of his enigmatic ally, "You're wasting your time, officer."

Mark found the time to joke now that he survived this experience, "NOW you choose to show up again?"

Mark lifted the cuffed criminal up and tried to bring them closer to S.A.N.C.T.U.M., but the voice on the other side remarked, "The enemy's already adapted to our presence. Since they assume I'm working alone, they've divided their platoons into many splinter units to cover up their tracks."

"..." Mark took that news in stride and glanced at the criminal in his hands, "Then interrogating them won't do anything?"

"Even if they were willing to cooperate, I get the feeling they were fed dead zones on purpose."

The robot then spoke up with a polite gesture towards the other side of the canal, "As the men on the other could attest to."

"...S.A.N.C.T.U.M. that's redundant information."

"...Still, they were carrying illegal firearms. So it's not a waste of time in my book." Mark said.

"True enough. Now, hurry up and call the police to pick these two up. We need to move." And on that very note, S.A.N.C.T.U.M. began to move down the trail, only to then fly off towards the rooftops without making a sound.

"W-Wait…!" Mark said, obviously unable to fly.

He then felt his phone vibrate and picked it up to see a message being typed in real time, "Do you have buds?"

His heart paused but really, this was hardly a stretch that they could do this.

He then reached into his coat and inserted the wireless buds into his ears, immediately receiving the mysterious person's voice, "I've sent S.A.N.C.T.U.M. along the rooftops to remain hidden for now. I want you to head to the abandoned train tunnels on the northside of town."

"Also, type any messages. I already encrypted your old voice mails and made a text to speech program."

Mark's eyes widened as he tepidly typed his response, "Gee, I'm flattered."

"Unfortunately, these programs still can't translate sarcasm."

After taking a moment to call in his fellow cops for the criminals, he went back to his car and plugged in the coordinates on his GPS.

Along the way, the enigma continued to talk. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being puppeteered along with little input of his own.

"If the enemy's plotting their movements on the assumption I'm working alone, then we can take them by surprise with extra numbers."

"I know someone who will be willing to help. An old friend. Much more experienced than either of us. The only problem is well…you."

"Or more specifically, your records. Over 200 criminal cases solved in 10 years of service."

Mark raised a brow and murmured to himself, "How is that a problem?"

"You'll understand when you get there. Consider this a final exam to prove that you're worthy of uncovering the truth."

That would be the last message they would send for now.

Mark contemplated the character of his mysterious ally against the backdrop of rain picking up against his window.

This stranger had built a fully functional robot with technology he couldn't understand, even with all the fiction he'd digested in his youth.

To have the means to develop this kind of robot would imply they have a lot of wealth, connections, or a little of both.

And they seem to have intimate knowledge of the law and how to operate within it, at least as a surface judgment.

Everything is telling him that the person behind the machine has to be as old if not older than him. And they must not have to worry about a job, otherwise they wouldn't be up this late.

"No, wait…" Mark almost forgot something, "They aren't telling me their name, so if they're as cautious as I assume…then maybe they want me to THINK this way as a misdirection."

"You're wasting your time, officer Mark." The voice suddenly surprised him.

"You have good deduction skills, but you'll never figure out who I am. So either keep wandering the labyrinth of misdirection I've set up…or steel yourself to wander the tunnels."

A comment timed right as he was rolling up on his destination.

And after parking his car somewhere less suspect, he wandered down into the abandoned railroads and saw S.A.N.C.T.U.M. 's bioorganic muscles giving off a faint light to signal him over.

Mark put his phone and buds away and approached the machine.

Ever since the advent of bullet trains across the United States, railroads like this were left to rust and decay. The smell was pretty bad out here because of it, but smoke smelled worse so he'd get over it.

The tunnel was boarded up, but no effort was made to upkeep it so it wouldn't be hard for a toddler to wander in here by accident.

"Maybe I should report this in…"

Mark looked at the machine and voiced his concerns with a bit of tiredness towards being dragged around, "Ok, are you going to clarify what we're doing here now?"

"S.A.N.C.T.U.M. will escort you halfway into the tunnel. There's a hidden underground passage that leads to a facility I'll need you to enter."

Mark raised a brow with suspicion, "And that's where our new ally is?"

"That's where my ally is, yes. You need to earn their trust."

The machine then easily tore off a board, put it aside, and gestured down the tunnel with a polite juxtaposition in their tone, "I believe you can do it, Sir Mark."

As the two went into the musky tunnel he remarked, "No advice, huh?"

"I'd be dishonoring all their years of experience if I had you come prepared."

"..." Mark sighed and then while rubbing the back of his head he awkwardly looked over his shoulder and murmured, "Can I at least ask you a few questions?"

"As long as they don't pertain to my identity or S.A.N.C.T.U.M.'s functions, go right ahead."

Mark closed his eyes and sighed again, "Well that cuts down a lot of options…"

But he recovered quickly, "Ok, question one. How many years have you been fighting crime?"

"Two, as of this year. S.A.N.C.T.U.M. has been active for only one."

Mark was surprised at the quick response, but the answer really hammered in that it was pointless to try and piece together their identity.

"Ok, question two. What got you interested in this…'Dregs' case specifically?"

"...It was a request from someone I highly respect. Their circumstances prevent them from pursuing the truth."

"Someone you respect?"

"That sounds like an attempt to connect the dots, Mark." The voice said with a bite in their voice.

The machine raised their voice slightly, "Now now, master, I think THIS would be harmless."

"Haaaa…fine. It's my teacher. They taught me everything I know about machines…and about justice."

"Oh that's all?" It was the first time Mark felt he was seeing the humanity of his conversation partner, and it made raise a smile in comfort.

"...Now can I ask you a question?"

Mark flinched and nodded, "Yeah. Only fair."

"Why become a cop? Surely you were taught about their reputation in school."

"...Yeah. Cops got a bad rap. Still do. And I recognize that of all professions out there, officers of the law are the most likely to stray to corruption, or abuse their power.."

"But the law is both a weapon…and a shield."

"No matter how much you clean-up the world, there's going to be criminals who want to prey on the weak."

"...Selflessness doesn't make you courageous. Entrusting the safety of the weak to strangers is never going to pan out in the long term."

"But in this job, if there IS someone willing to speak up, then I can answer their call. I CAN make a difference."

S.A.N.C.T.U.M. spoke up, "I think…that's a marvelous answer. What do you say, master?"

"Hmmm…Not bad. But I don't get why you need to be a COP to accomplish that."

Mark answered, "Not everyone can build a crime-fighting robot and hack phones."

"...You've got a point," Then, right on a dime the voice said, "Alright, no more questions. This is the cut off point."

They had gotten far enough down that the only lighting available was from the broken, musty lanterns on the wall. At least the scent had faded a bit.

Mark took a couple steps forward and the voice had one last thing to say, "I'll keep S.A.N.C.T.U.M. stationed here just in case something goes wrong. Hopefully, that 'thing' won't be carrying your body bag."

"Master…might I suggest a more…respectful approach." S.A.N.C.T.U.M. offered with a heavy sigh and a pinch of their fingers for emphasis.

The machine then doled out whispered words of encouragement, "Just relax and focus, and you'll make it through just fine. I know it!"

"R-Right…" Mark hesitantly advanced down the tunnel and looked for anything out of place.

For as much as he loved this city, the dirty side wasn't a place he liked to go.

But there was something romantic about going down a road much traveled. How many stories would the trains that passed down here tell?

He leaned towards the walls and saw a couple cargo containers left on their sides to rusted, their contents moist and covered in moss.

He pinched his nose and walked around the containers, pulling out his phone to get some more light on the walls.

A quick check on his GPS showed that he was directly in the middle of the tunnel. So this secret facility should be around here.

No passages, no stairs.

"Hmmm…" Mark squinted at the wall and noticed that the moss around the right container didn't seem as grown in as the rest. And its contents were emptied…

"..." He walked into the open door and a quick turn to the left found a staircase had been dug into the wall going down, with a golden orange light humming through.

He put his phone away and headed down. It was like walking through a portal into the past.

An old timey bar with a neon sign and chimes over the door. No name given, the browned windows were barred, and were he not attentive it was easy to ignore that the building was built into the walls.

He held his courage close to his chest and opened the door.

Inside the lighting matched the mood of the exterior, warm and weary. There was a bar on the left, a pool table in the back, and many tables. Standard fare for an establishment.

The floor was lined with waxed tiles and the stone of the tunnel made up the walls.

This place was full though. It would be hard to find a table.

Just one man running the bar too. A tall black man with shades, an icy blue barista's apron, and white cornrows.

Heck, Mark found himself really out of place since the majority of people had to be in their late 50s or older.

He took a quick look at the people for anyone that stood out on his way to the bar.

"Wait…!" An older gentleman with a curly mustache sat at the second table, dressed in fancy cleats.

"That guy is a former wanted criminal. Charged with three counts of assault and possession of an illegal firearm. He was released on bail three years ago…"

And sitting next to him, just having a nice chat with some beer and cheesy tots, was a slightly younger man with a worn down heavy coat that was a little damp. He had a stubble beard and hazel eyes.

"That's chief officer Talbot. He retired from my department the same year I joined."

"What's a former criminal and officer doing in the same place?"

And the more he looked, the more criminals and retired officers he saw intermingling. Some of them from other states, a couple criminals clearly from other countries.

He kept himself steady upon sitting at the bar, where the bartender offered him service in a suave baritone voice, "What you needing, sir?"

Mark raised his somewhat dizzy gaze and remarked sincerely, "What do you say to a guy who doesn't know what he's looking for?"

The bartender gestured his hands out and smirked, "Heh, that you've come to the right place. Here at the One Way Road, we welcome anyone from both sides of the law to chill and talk it out."

"Then any topic goes?" Mark wondered.

"So long as you ain't slinging slurs l, you're good." The bartender chuckled and began cleaning a glass.

"I'll take a glass of soda then, pinch of lime."

"Simple. I can respect." As the man prepared the drink, Mark tapped the counter and looked around for anyone suspicious.

The ice rattled in the glass and he turned to take a drink before saying, "Thanks."

"No problem. Need an appetizer?" The bartender asked.

Mark shook his head, "Not hungry."

"So, what do you need to talk about, stranger?"

Mark rolled the ice around and then looked at the man in his shades and came right out and asked, "Have you heard the rumors about a criminal organization named 'Dregs' in town?"

"Hmmm, can't say I have. By the way, how will you be paying? Cash or card?"

Mark realized then and there he left his wallet in the car.

But before he made his move a friendly voice spoke up, "Add his to my bill Zeke."

Mark looked back and saw a man in his late fifties with slick back graying hair, a dapper black suit and tie, and shined brown shoes giving him a wave and smile.

The bartender chuckled, "Ok but you better settle your debts someday. Death ain't stopping the collectors."

The neighborly stranger put his hand on the table. An invitation if there ever was.

Mark was curious and took his drink over there to sit.

The man extended his hand in politeness and the two shook, with Mark wondering, "You…need something?"

"This is a place to chat. Isn't that good enough?" The man said sincerely.

Mark withdrew his hand to his drink and took another sip, "If this was the middle of the day, sure."

"Night. Day. What difference does it make in matters involving the law?" The stranger remarked.

Mark raised his brow and started to realize this man was incredibly calm. Like he had trained himself this way.

After finishing his drink he reached out with an innocent enough question, "How long have you been at this, sir?"

The man gave a disarming smile and said, "Longer than you have been alive, Mark."

Mark's heart froze and he tried to recall when he said his name.

He didn't.

He immediately pulled his gun on this man and like clockwork, the rest of the patrons of the bar pulled up on him with their guns and knives trained on him.

He grit his teeth and carefully pointed his gun at this man before him.

The man continued his polite smile with some air of domination surrounding him.

Relaxing back he took a drink of his malt beer and then spoke, "Mark…10 years on the job. 200 cases solved. Notable for never taking a single life "

The man then leaned his forehead against the barrel of the gun and whispered, "Shall I be your first?"

Mark shivered, then held his gun tighter, even though it had been reduced to a prop.

The man pulled back and snapped his fingers, "Rummage through his coat."

It was torture to feel these strangers dig through his pockets. The moment he felt the locket get taken out he aimed at that thief and shouted, "Hey!"

The others put their weapons closer to his face.

"G-gh…"

The man took the locket and shamelessly popped it open. Then, his expression seemed to waver.

With a hint of a smile, the man tossed the locket back to Mark, who swiped it without hesitation and buried it in his pockets.

The man then folded his hands under his chin and remarked, "You seek justice against 'Dregs'. But by what definition? That of God's will, or your own?"

Mark clicked his tongue and remarked, "I want to know the truth."

"You're too clean to wade deep enough into the swamp to find it." The man said, no cruelty to his tone, but the honesty bit all the same.

"So I should just continue living my life like that day didn't happen?" Mark answered.

"Ignorance is bliss as the saying goes."

"That's wrong!"

"The truth changes a man. Warps their sense of reason. That fire took the life of the woman you love. Put a face to your pain, and how long will you last before you put a bullet through it?"

"...I don't know," Mark said, scared, "But…I still have a daughter. For her sake, I WILL hold on to who I am."

"I'm impressed. But…"

Mark felt a gun to his knee and the man smiled at him, "You're still lacking the experience necessary to make such a claim."

The gun was withdrawn immediately and once the man laid it on the table, a single clap made the other patrons return to what they were doing.

Mark kept his gun up until the man reached out and pushed it down.

He then stood, adjusted his jacket, and remarked, "Shall we?"

"W-Wait, huh? You're…going to help?" Mark followed him.

"Naturally. I have vested interest in stopping 'Dregs' myself after all." The man said.

As the two left this bar, the man paused and turned around.

"Ah. Introductions. My name is Julius Talbain. It shall be a pleasure to work alongside an accomplished officer of the law such as yourself."

He extended his hand again, and Mark felt safe shaking it this time.

"However…" Julius turned around and made his way up the stairs, "We need to get you caught up, and fast. Now, I imagine your contact is waiting for me out here?"

Sure enough, it took only until the moment they left the stairs for S.A.N.C.T.U.M to arrive.

"Ah,"Julius said with little fanfare, "I wagered it was you. I'm surprised you were able to pin down my location."

"It was a gamble. But the situation warranted the risk."

Julius narrowed his eyes, "I'm aware. Your presence has caused quite the stir in their activity."

"I may have made an error or two in judgment."

"You're still new to this." Julius said gently.

"Don't coddle me, Dark Eyes."

Julius glanced aside and remarked, "No need for that, I already told the officer my name."

"You did what?"

"You haven't?" Julius said, then glanced back at Mark with a somewhat apologetic tone, "They've been keeping their heart under lock and key, eh?"

"..."

Julius looked at the machine and said, "I can tell you're scowling."

"Maybe you can afford to be cavalier with your identity, but you KNOW I can't."

"Fine, but at least give this man something. Trust is earned through simple conversations adding up over time."

S.A.N.C.T.U.M. remarked, "I did say something to that degree earlier."

"Ignoring both of you for a moment…" S.A.N.C.T.U.M. was positioned so it seemed like the person talking was looking directly at Julius, "Are you aware that the Weaver has returned to her home nest in town?"

"I am well aware, yes." Julius nodded in a mildly somber tone.

"And you don't plan to say hello?"

"My time in the light was over the moment the King took the throne."

"I see…"

Though the conversation was clearly designed to block him out, Mark couldn't ignore that last statement, "King…?"

And his eyes widened in shock, "W-Wait! Don't tell me you have ties to our President?!"

Julius turned and nodded, causing S.A.N.C.T.U.M.'s master to grumble.

Mark felt compelled to poke further, "…Secret service?"

Julius answered sincerely, "The secretest of secrets. It's better for him this way."

"...Oh." Mark decided it was best to stop there. But he was starting to feel humbled by how lucky he was to have this man on HIS side.

He wore his experience out in the open and wasn't cocky so much as he knew how to go with the flow of whatever came his way, and take advantage of it.

But he seemed to have a strong heart too.

"Before you go spilling out any OTHER secrets…Can we discuss our plans going forward?" The voice remarked.

"Yes, let's head outside the tunnel first."

After they left and S.A.N.C.T.U.M. nailed the board back into place to avoid suspicion, the three gathered under a dry space and Julius pulled out an old model cell phone with a few cracks in the casing.

"I've already marked a 'Dregs' member with a tracking device while we were inside the bar." Julius said, his map showing a red blip where the bar would be located.

Mark was impressed and confused, "W-When did you do that?"

"When everyone had their weapons trained on you. Don't worry, you'll pick up how to recognize and perform these tricks during our time together," Julius then looked at Mark and pointed at his pocket, "That reminds me, I took the liberty of installing my contact info into your phone. I'll be sending you messages with advice on how to improve your investigations. I'd suggest reading them in privacy."

"W-What?!" Mark pulled out his phone and sure enough the moment he flicked the screen on, Julius sent him a message of "Hello".

"...Am I out of my depth here?" He was starting to realize.

"S-So…the tracking device?"

"Ah, right," Julius put their attention back on his phone, "If their plan is to divide their forces to misdirect S.A.N.C.T.U.M., then that means there's less numbers pooling into their main destination."

"So we avoid targeting the splinter cells with the tracking device target in them to whittle down the number of groups. Eventually they will have to cut their losses and force the remaining members to gather on their main destination lest they run out of manpower to guard whatever secret they're hiding."

Mark could figure out the rest, "Then we get the drop on them and smoke them out all at once?"

Julius clicked off his phone and nodded.

"But wait…what if the tracking device is discovered?"

"There should be no concern there. I flicked it into his nose. And it's too small to irritate his sinuses."

"So we just need to keep doing what we've been doing until the moment arrives." The voice remarked.

Julius reached out to Mark and whispered, "For now, just make sure your daughter has someone to wake up to in the morning."

And with that, the man retreated into the rainy night in silence. By the time Mark turned around, he was already gone.

"I just want to make one thing clear to you," The voice drew his attention back to the machine, "I'm not being secretive because it makes me 'cool', or to be a dick. But because as far as this partnership is concerned, once we've dealt with 'Dregs', there's zero chance of us ever seeing each other again. We live in two completely different worlds."

Mark rubbed the back of his head and sighed, "I'm not asking you for all your personal information, you know? Just a simple conversation to pass the time would do."

"...I will try."

"I wish I could offer my own assistance, but alas, I have very little conversational experience with other humans." S.A.N.C.T.U.M. remarked.

"Until next time, Mark. Sleep tight." The machine then floated off into the night, and Mark was kept wondering how much he could really contribute to this case.

It felt like it was being suffocated in the presence of legends.

But that fire was still getting stoked in his memories. Until it was put out, he could at least try to pretend he was worthy of standing with these greats.

Next Time: The Flower Girl