Chapter 53: A Flame Burns Brightest at the Beginning
Washington was always known for its heavy rains and cold nights.
The rain has never felt heavier than it has now.
For every step taken, the drops beat on the back like steel marbles.
But he has to keep moving through the streets of the city he loves to hunt the truth, and buy the people another day of comfort and quiet.
It was the duty inscribed on his badge and in his blood.
Blood…
Lightning flashes in the alleyways, and he sees the shadow of a caved in corpse flashing against the brick wall.
His heart races. Metal pipes creak to fill the tight space.
Someone was on the move…
He'd been hunting this lead for days now, desperate, tireless…
Without the prospect of certainty that he would even come out of this with answers, simply more leads to pursue.
This was an endless hunt. The alleyways had grown from barely ventured paths he gazed during the day, to labyrinthian walls.
They twisted and turned and stairs barred his path.
He didn't think about his surroundings…warping like a contracting esophagus. He saw only a shadow running ahead of him, and his eyes became laser focused.
"Wait!" He screamed with a ragged breath.
He ran and ran, seconds turned to hours, then days, then months…
He still pursued that shadow…until it ran into a blinding pair of blinkers.
A car turned a corner and parked adjacent to the alleyway.
And there he saw his daughter: Older, longer hair, pierced lip and a permanent scowl. She had briefcases packed, and the door to the car was inviting her in.
She peered back only to feel disgust at the man who barely raised her.
He panted, glancing at the shadow in the distance getting away.
"W-Wait…! Just wait! I-I almost got him…!" But his daughter had already abandoned him midway through.
He pursued the shadow with greater fever and finally pulled out his gun to shut them in the legs without a second thought.
The shadow collapsed and the man grabbed him by the back and slammed him against the wall, pinning the barrel of his gun against the bottom of his chin.
"I-It's time you answered…for everything you did!"
Lightning flashed in the alleyway and all the man saw was his own face growing out of the shadow.
"You are the criminal. YOU killed your loved ones!" The shadow mocked him, gorging on sinister laughter like he was in a buffet.
"BANG!"
The man's patience had worn thin, but he never intended to fire the gun…It simply knew what he wanted, deep, deep down.
The shadow fizzled away into a bloody mist, still laughing.
And then the metal creaking grew louder, a hefty weight pounding against the ground like a hammer against a church bell.
The man turned down the way he came, and frayed wires brought the occasional flicker of light to an otherwise infinite corridor of darkness.
A machine built like a man whirred with red light and stared him down.
The final judgment of evil, condemned with the sheer hubris of intelligence pushed too far.
He felt his whole body turn cold…and ran.
But no matter how much he dragged his feet against the ground, he wasn't making any progress. The machine pinned its hand against the wall and effortlessly toppled the labyrinth's walls like they were a row of dominos.
It then did the same to the opposite side, each footstep growing louder and louder as its light burned like the crimson fires of hell.
The man sought exit from this nightmare, but only came to confront a burning abyss welcoming him off the side of a cliff.
By the time he turned around, thinking he could flee this specter of the past, his fears in the now caught up to him and plucked him from the ground by his head.
Staring deep into his soul with uncaring dictation, it began to squeeze…
And the man's screams bled into reality, as he awoke suddenly from his bed throwing his sheets off onto the floor.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, they stopped. And he stared at the maple colored wall, adjusting to the sound of his alarm clock buzzing over and over at his bedside.
He reached out and slammed the clock silent, then grabbed his face in both hands, a cold sweating plaguing his morning skin.
"...The same nightmare…" Spoke Mark, barely comprehensible.
He turned to the picture of him, his wife, and their daughter beside the clock.
It showed his wife teaching their daughter how to dye her bangs, while he spilled a bit of dye on his new coat.
"..." The longing for those days were never going to go away. But now, the nightmares were trying to punish him for ever knowing happiness.
He forced himself up and flung open the curtains of his second-story bedroom, his house positioned on the hills next to the city he loved.
Despite everything…the city was still standing.
All it cost…was two lives, and his sanity.
"..." His head ached and he continued to hold onto the side of it as he went to his closet and dressed up in something simple: A plaid shirt, black tie, and blue jeans.
But he made extra sure that his locket was tucked safely into his right pocket.
He then smelled something cooking and his heart skipped a beat. Edging his feet across the ground at a snail's pace, he left his room and made his way down the stairs.
He grabbed the empty vase nearby and tucked it behind his back before rounding the corner into the kitchen.
Something was sizzling alright…it was Vida, tossing ingredients in two skillets with an apron on.
He glanced over his shoulder with a smile, "Oye! Buenos dias pareja! Got a serious case of the bed head, don'tcha?"
Mark settled down and snuck the vase back onto the small table around the corner, "You scared the shit out of me…"
Vida focused on the skillets, "Only thing you gotta be scared of amigo…is how delicioso your breakfast is going to be!"
Mark dragged his tired body over to the fridge for his morning glass of milk, but was surprised to find it was gone.
After a blank stare, he shut the door and turned to the table to see his daughter, Violet, had already grabbed it.
She was dressed in cargo shorts and a sporty sleeveless shirt, but hadn't tied up her hair yet.
She lifted her glass to her mouth and looked at her dad from the corner of her eye.
There was a distance there that he wasn't ready to close, but…he was happy to know his nightmare hadn't come true.
With a slight smile he walked over and snuck a kiss on her cheek. She blushed, rubbed the spot dry, and then put her glass down.
"...Morning dad," She said softly, "Feeling hungry for once?"
"Y-Yeah."
After a bit of silence, Violet scooted the milk gallon over and he thanked her with a smile.
"What are your plans today?" He asked while pouring a glass.
Violet shrugged, "Dunno. Might do a little music mixing."
She looked confused, and a little bothered, "...Why?"
Mark took a long drink from his glass, but couldn't think of an answer in the meantime.
Vida approached with three plates on his arms, "Right now, you should relax, and enjoy my specialty!"
Mark looked at the plate to see fried eggs covered in a tomato-based sauce laid on top of fried torts, drizzled in a homemade cheese sauce, with diced onions and tomatoes sprinkled on top.
"Huevos Rancheros Con Queso!"
As he expertly slid the plates onto each mat, Violet licked her lips and smiled, "Hee hee! How are you not someone's husband by now?"
Vida gave Mark a light sock on the shoulder, "Then who'd keep this house together?"
Mark rubbed his shoulder and started digging into his breakfast. The cheese sauce not only bled together perfectly with the yolk, but the tomato sauce was chunky enough to hold the mix at bay.
"Mmm mmm mm! De-lish!" Violet cheered, "Thanks Uncle Vida!"
"Ah, the pleasure's all mine, mijo!" Vida said politely.
"Hee hee!" Violet blushed at the compliment.
Vida then turned aside and remarked, "Oh yeah, I ran a check on your car when I rolled in. You were almost out of motor oil, so I topped you off."
Mark shook, "R-Really? I had no idea. Maybe I should get the oil change light checked too…"
Vida shook his head, "The light was on, but your eyes were not amigo."
He then wagged his fork at him playfully, "But I won't start a fight on this fine morning."
Mark dryly remarked, "Thanks."
He looked at his daughter enjoying her meal while taking the occasional glance at him like she wanted to talk.
So he jumped to the best option for any tension cutter: Small talk.
"I saw your grades. Top of the class, huh?"
Violet closed her eyes and gave a lofty shrug.
"..." Mark slid his hand out across the table and said sincerely, "I'm proud of you. Your mom would be too."
"..." Violet took a sip from her glass and then looked the other way, "Y'know, usually parents show how proud they are by…treating their kids to dessert."
She glanced back with eager, puckered lips.
Mark felt there was still some love to salvage here and jumped at the chance to keep it, "How about I buy you a new teddy bear instead?"
Violet's eyes widened, but what he construed as glee quickly turned to her looking embarrassed and saying, "Daaaaad, I-I'm too old for those!"
"O-Ok, ice cream it is then…" He tried to go for, but she simply turned and looked downtrodden.
"Never mind…" And she slowly worked on the rest of her breakfast.
Vida clicked his tongue a few times and whispered, "Strike one, amigo."
"Shh…!" Mark then tried another, less volatile approach, "Are you…making any friends?"
Violet got a bit of her energy back, though her smile seemed…cocky, "As a matter of fact, I did! Her name is Selina! She's a bit of an airhead, but we have a lot of fun together AND…she listens to all my creative ideas!"
She then returned to her meal and seemed to speed up.
"Strike two." Vida whispered.
And so Mark hung his eyelids and with a heavy sigh, returned to eating his meal.
Violet scarfed down the rest of her food and drowned it in the rest of her milk, then took her plate to the dishwasher while still chewing.
After which, she patted Vida on the back and pecked him on the cheek, "Thanks, Tio!"
She then gave her father a quick glance before running upstairs to her room.
Vida closed his eyes and sighed out, "Aaaaand strike three, you're out, amigo."
"I-I…" Mark felt a lot of stress and guilt on his mind, causing him to let out an agonized groan as he grabbed the sides of his head and leaned towards the table, "I don't understand, aaaaugh…!"
"Companero…" Vida scooted his chair over and gently poked his arm with a fork to get his attention, then put the fork on his chest.
"Your mouth may be here, but your heart…?" He pointed out the window towards the city, giving a slight, serious couple of nods in the process.
"And your hija? She ain't a chick in the nest anymore. She can tell."
"..." Mark's tired, glazed over eyes turned to look back where the stairs are, "...And everyday I try to keep her in, the more I push her out."
"I-I get that, but…" He grit his teeth and growled, "As it stands now, it's too dangerous for her to leave."
"Too dangerous for her? …Or too dangerous for you?" Vida glared at him.
"..." Mark tried looking the other way but Vida kicked his chair to force it to turn and face him.
"I've been covering for you at the workplace, amigo, but you can't keep staying home. It's like…someone put the fear of God inside of you."
"..." Mark hung his head, "If I stay home, I'm safe, and m-maybe I can repair my relationship with my daughter."
Vida shook his head with a regrettable tone, "But then you're denying what you want."
Mark bit his lower lip, "But if I go out there, then I'm just…flying blindly into the night. A-And…"
He froze upon thinking of S.A.N.C.T.U.M. as seen in his nightmares.
"I…can't face it alone."
"Face what alone?" Vida said with his brow raised.
Mark planted his hands against his face and groaned, "I. Don't. Know…!"
"The truth…" Mark swung his hands out in exasperation, "I guess?!"
With a heavy breath, he swallowed hard and then lifted his head to look his best friend in the eyes, frightened at what he was about to say, "I-It's been five years, Vida…and I fear that…if I see the man who killed my wife, I'll…I'll do something I'll forever regret."
"..." Vida sighed, "Yeah, I get it. I'd feel the same way."
"But face it man, you've been at this for a long time despite my protests, but you still aren't anywhere closer to discovering the truth."
"...I was, though." Mark mumbled under his breath.
He then sat up and stared at the ceiling lights, thinking back on his last meeting with S.A.N.C.T.U.M.'s master.
And for a moment he considered "Did I make a mistake?" only for a flash of the Valkyrie's corpse to make him shake that regret away.
"No. I can never go back to them." It was a painful thing to admit, because it looped him back around to the same problem he's been facing since then…
"But I…got nowhere else to go…No leads, no hope…And even if I did, I have no chance of surviving an encounter with 'Dregs'."
"Maybe this was their plan all along. To make me realize I'm hopeless without them so I'd be forced to beg for their help." He grit his teeth with frustration, there were no easy answers to be found no matter where he looked.
"..." Vida leaned out to touch his shoulder with a smile full of warmth, "When you reach the end of your rope, hermano, maybe it's God's way of telling you to start from a new beginning."
Something about that word…"beginning" sparked hope in Mark's weary eyes.
"...The beginning…"
All this time, he had been focusing on a narrow path to seek the truth. Constantly moving forward, only taking in what he saw in the present.
But not once…had he thought of looking back.
Because when he turned around, all he ever saw were the flames.
Yet what lied within the flames…might be the answers he sought.
He was never going to be able to dive in on his own. His fear had a hold on him like a cold, pale hand.
But…there was someone who still remembered that day.
He hadn't lost his chance to find the truth just yet.
Rising from his chair with hope in his eyes, he exchanged a pat on his friend's shoulder with a low energy smile, "Thank you…I know what to do now."
"W-Wait…!" Vida stood up and pushed his chair back, "Mark!"
Mark didn't give him the chance to try and hold him back, pure as his intentions may have been. He scampered up the stairs, grabbed his coat and his keys, and headed out the door to get in the car.
He only took a brief moment to peek into his daughter's room, and see her cuddling an old teddy bear in one arm while fiddling with her music player in the other.
"...I have to fight to keep what I still have."
With this determination in mind, he drove straight to Seattle. Traffic was low for once, and he made it to the deli owned by his old friend Anthony just as he was getting ready to open.
His heart was beating hard and unsteadily, but he braved his way through the front doors and caught his friend by surprise behind the counter.
"Mornin' to my first cust-" Anthony paused upon locking eyes with Mark, who hung his head, already intent on taking in any guilt for his actions today.
Mark approached the counter and looked around. There were no signs of Lyra, just the other employees finishing setting the tables.
"What can I get ya, Mark?" Anthony said, trying to push the encounter along quickly.
And so in turn, Mark decided not to pussyfoot around why he was here, "I-I…need you to remember what happened on that day, five years ago…"
"Still hung up on that…" Anthony groaned.
Mark choked up a little and then stuttered, "A-And, I'll take a coffee to go."
Anthony gave him a look of disappointment, but then tried to be a little more patient, "Look…This isn't healthy. I can recommend you a good therapist, maybe you can sort-"
Mark wound up punching the counter and gritting his teeth in anger, "Everyone keeps saying I need to get over this and move on! Well maybe my means of getting closure isn't the same as yours, ok?!"
The two had a long and tense staredown, with the employees in the back pausing to observe.
Mark unfurled his fist flat on the counter and took a deep breath, "I…please…I'm not just doing this…for myself…You don't understand how much danger everyone could be in…"
"...That sounds like an excuse to justify your obsession, Mark." Anthony said with genuine concern.
"...No. It's not," He looked Anthony dead in the eyes and told him, "And if you were in my shoes, you'd want to do anything to protect Lyra too."
Anthony put his fist on the counter and leaned in with a scowl, "Don't leverage my love for her against me, when YOU can't even appreciate your own daughter!"
"...I-I know that," Mark turned the other way, downtrodden, "She's grown-up so much without my help. She's even got great grades."
"I…" Mark felt light in his chest and then took another deep breath to calm himself down. Once the two were on neutral footing, he looked at Anthony again and whispered, "Did I…ever tell you why I became a cop?"
Anthony crossed his arms patiently, "No. Don't think so."
"...Twenty years ago, my wife…w-well, my future wife and I were just a couple punks who liked to cause trouble around the city."
"The only moral fiber I had in my being was thanks to reading old Batman comics. I dunno I was just…inspired by his dedication to protecting the streets. But I never really understood how deep his dedication went at the time."
"Well. One day, the two of us got caught up in a city fire in a pretty bad way. The support beams were collapsing. It looked like we would be caved in before the fires got to us."
"But then…someone pushed through the fire and rescued us."
"I don't remember his face. Or if he ever said his name…"
"But it taught me that, even if I was just some worthless punk…I was still a life worth saving."
"I turned my life around, cleaned up, and paid closer attention to my education. And eventually my wife and I enrolled in a police academy."
"It was the closest occupation I could think of that would let me emulate the values of Batman. A place where, maybe, I could be a faceless savior to some poor punk on the street, or turn a criminal's life around."
"But after a criminal killed my wife, I'm torn between wanting to get revenge…and understanding WHY they did it. And…"
"Maybe…" Mark's voice slowly got quieter as his pain and worries became clear, "I'm worried that I'm not a good person after all."
"Hrrrmmm…" Anthony closed his eyes and mumbled with empathy, "That day…Was also when I became inspired to be a fireman."
"Had to bail my little sister out of our old apartment complex. It was…scary, but…"
Mark turned to him and softly laid his hand on the counter, "Anthony, I SWEAR on my life, I'm not doing anything that would put you or Lyra in danger. Please…"
"...The only reason I get so upset at ya Mark, is because in my eyes, you're still a good man," Anthony then turned and gestured to another employee, "Run the counter for a few, will ya?"
He then moved around to the other side and invited Mark over to a table in the back where they'd have some peace and quiet.
"Thank you…!" Mark whispered poignantly.
"Ok…Five years ago…" Anthony closed his eyes and concentrated, "It was the six of us at the museum. Me, you, your wife, our two kids, and Vida. My wife was running the new exhibit on display for the day. It was meant to be a special event…"
Mark nodded along, "Right, right…Your wife was going to be visited by someone from Europe, potentially getting the chance to curate a museum over there."
Anthony tapped his fingers together a little, "Around noon, the girls wanted lunch, so I took them to the food court across the street. Vida joined us."
"Once we ordered our food, Vida had to go to the bathroom. Apparently, he had a bad case of lactose intolerance…"
"...Sounds about right. But he loves his milk anyway," Mark noted, "If…I remember correctly, my wife and I were fooling around with the air tubes to pass the time."
"Heh, yeah…those were fun," Anthony said with a faint smile, "After Vida returned, we finished our lunch. Vida cracked a bad joke that's apparently popular in Mexico. My daughters shared their music player to listen to the Scarlet Succubus' debut album…"
Mark smiled, "Is Lyra still a big fan of hers?"
Anthony smirked, "Like you wouldn't believe. Even got lucky enough to tour her backstage preparations a while back."
"W-Wow…"
"Let's focus, Mark." Anthony said in a stern tone.
"R-Right…" Mark was starting to see through the fiery haze in his memories, but it was getting thicker as he moved along, "Around that time my…wife needed to go to the bathroom herself. You…had texted me saying to meet up at the entrance."
"My wife said she'd catch up with us when she was done, and then the plan was to go meet up for your wife's presentation."
Anthony remarked, "You were in eyesight when all of a sudden, there was a loud blast, followed by a pair of gunshots."
"You ran back and, fearing the worst, I followed suit. It didn't take long for the ceiling to collapse under pressure from the fires breaking out above us."
"I…tried to save as many people was I could as the inferno swept through the whole building like mad. But without my equipment, my protection, I found myself frightened to help…Because now I had a daughter to return to."
"And I suppose my punishment for that was watching helplessly as a wall blew up, and a plume of fire took her eyesight away."
"I…scrambled to pick her up and carry her out to safety, while Vida ran out and carried Violet out to safety."
Mark's head throbbed as a memory was forced back into his head, "T-That's right…on that day…"
"...After I left you, I went back to the second floor where my wife was and shouted her name. I barely managed to navigate through the fire and the burning floors to reach a backroom where the heater was running."
"When I arrived…the heater had been pierced through, causing the fires to go out of control. And there was a crate…and…and a white, blurry monster…"
"'Dregs'..."
Mark laid a hand on his head, the fire in his memories causing him to visibly sweat, "I-I…"
The last moments of that day came in brief, throbbing pulses.
His wife, laid to rest under a steel girder, blood leaking from her mouth, her arm raised stiff with gun in hand.
"I never got to say how much I love her…!" He said in a pained whimper, tears flowing down his cheeks and squeezed hand.
Anthony held his hand out, "Mark…"
Mark let a few more tears out and then with a sniffle, looked at his friend and shook his head, "...T-Thank you for trying to help, but…I guess I was wrong. Nothing about our reflection stood out as off."
"And…the forensics team didn't find any traces of fingerprints, or bullets around the backroom." But knowing what he knew now, the white monster clearly pierced the heater with a bone projectile.
"There probably was someone acting odd that day…we just had the misfortune of not catching them sooner." Anthony remarked.
"...Acting odd…" Mark hung on those words for a brief moment, and then pulled his head back and closed his eyes to concentrate, "Come to think about it…why…did it take five years for 'Dregs' to bring that supply crate back into the city?"
"And…why was it in that building to begin with?"
These were questions but…for once, not in a bad way.
A little more thought put into this line of questioning, and he recalled what happened with the cargo platform, "I wonder…was it possible that…someone was planning to purchase the museum? Someone…connected to 'Dregs'?"
"And…if that's the case then…" Mark's eyes widened, as he felt like he was deducing things in a way that would make Julius smile.
"..." He got out of his chair and surprised Anthony.
"Is something wrong?" He asked.
Mark stared out the window as activity in the city was starting to pick up.
There were so many innocent lives blissfully unaware of what was boiling beneath the surface.
So many people led astray, who could lose the chance to make something better of themselves if 'Dregs' got their way…
And here he was, reaching for a chance to quit on his ideals…and quit on all of them.
"...I can still set this right."
Mark then adjusted his jacket by the collar and briefly looked back at Anthony, "Sorry to cut and run like this, buddy, but…I got work to do."
Anthony stood and crossed his arms firmly, "Are you sure about this, Mark?"
"We can't go our whole lives pretending that everything is ok." Mark whispered.
And it left a mark on Anthony's heart.
Mark exited the deli and reached for his phone. He was tempted to try and get in contact with S.A.N.C.T.U.M., but convinced himself out of it.
"...No, I have to make sure I'm right first. And plus…" He wasn't going to get the blood out of his sights anytime soon, "They should have to earn my trust back."
And so, the case continues…
Next Time: A Kiss for Sis