Chapter 33: The Inquiry

Vale, Ten Years Ago…

Valor Sage knew that everyone's parents fought sometimes. But his parents seemed to fight almost every night. It started mildly enough, his father would come home from work and talk to someone on the scroll for hours before addressing his family. But as the days went by, the scroll calls grew longer and longer, and his behavior grew more and more aggressive.

One night, Valor was awoken by a loud thud. His curiosity getting the better of him, he made his way downstairs and crept into the kitchen. His eyes widened as he saw his mother laying on the ground with her head caved in and her chest cut open. His father was holding the knife with one hand, using it to draw symbols on the walls, while his other hand still held up the scroll as he spoke to whoever else was on the other end. A small whimper slipping through Valor's lips alerted his father of his presence. His father hung up the scroll and pulled out a bottle from his coat pocket.

"Don't worry, son… this is for a higher purpose…"

The acid poured from the bottle and splashed all over Valor's face. Then, his father shot himself.

New Rushland, Vale. Present Day…

On his latest check-up with his doctor, Valor had his hood covering his head as he used a temporary breathing apparatus while his doctor tuned up his mask. The acid had damaged his eyelids and nostrils, as well as burning some of his throat. The mask was the only thing that gave him a chance at a normal life, and kept anyone from seeing his scars.

"Well, Valor, this new oxygen tank should make breathing a little easier." The doctor said. "Are you noticing any discomfort?"

"No. Thank you, doctor."

"And how are you adjusting to your new foster home?"

"It's fine." Valor shrugged as he clasped the new mask over his face. "Although, I am looking forward to living on my own next year. Nothing against my new foster parents, but I feel as if I'm ready to be independent."

"Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, Valor." The doctor smiled as she patted his shoulder. "Well, you'd best be off to school. I'll see you next month."

"Yes, doctor."

Before Valor left the hospital to head to school, he noticed a patient in the next room with bandages wrapped around his face. Unable to contain his curiosity, Valor waved down a nearby doctor. "Excuse me, would it be considered breaking doctor/patient confidentiality if I ask what happened to the kid in the room here?"

The doctor took one look at Valor's mask and gave an empathetic grin, understanding that the question came from a place of genuine curiosity and concern. "Someone hurt him. But we're going to do our best to help him, and that's what's important right now."

Valor nodded, but stealthily swiped a photograph of the patient they'd taken before applying the bandages. Then, he made his way across the street to the bus stop. Taking a seat at the rear to avoid prying eyes, he studied the picture and gasped in shock. The patient's face appeared to have been melted off, leaving nothing but burnt scar tissue and muscle. After checking his surroundings once more, he tucked the photograph away in his backpack for later study.

Once Valor arrived at school, he headed straight for his locker before the bell rang. As he walked, he got the usual stares and whispers from the other students regarding his mask. Not that he really cared, but it did get annoying every once in a while. Just as he arrived at the hallway where his locker was located, a familiar purple-haired teenager raced past him, followed by two football players who slammed the purple-haired teen into the lockers.

"Not so funny now, huh, Maroon?!" One football player snarled.

"Heh-heh, thanks for giving me that head-start, guys." Boris chuckled, nervously. "You, uh, wanna give me another one? Just for fun?"

"You're not going anywhere after I pound your face in!" The other player reeled his arm back for a punch, only to knock someone's books out of their hands.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Valor called out as he knelt down to pick up his books. But the two bullies felt insulted and kicked his books away.

"You talking to us, chromedome?!" One of them snapped.

"Uh, no." Valor shook his head as he gathered his books back up. "I was talking to the guy who was right behind you."

"Huh?" They turned around to see that Boris had vanished. "Where'd he go?!"

"The purple-haired guy?" Valor asked, innocently. "Snuff-film enthusiast? Has a talent for computers?"

"WHERE IS HE?!" The bully sneered.

"He went that way." Valor pointed down the hall. Once the bullies were gone, he nonchalantly opened his own locker and placed his books inside. Then, he knocked on the locker next to his. "Alright, the coast is clear."

Boris gasped as he stumbled out of his locker; he'd been holding his breath to avoid detection. "Hey, for the record, Valor, I am not a snuff-film enthusiast. I need those for legitimate detective work. I don't watch that stuff for pleasure."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Valor shrugged. Once he had the appropriate books for his morning classes, Valor checked the clock on the wall. With ten minutes to spare, he opened his locker wider to go over the evidence board he kept tapped to the back of the door. He took out a newspaper clipping from his hoodie and pinned it to the board.

"Wow…" Boris feigned an interested tone. "I had no idea the girl scouts were behind the crop circles."

"Few people do." Valor replied as he finished exchanging the books in his backpack for the ones in his locker. "Even fewer bother to make the inquiry."

"How's this for an inquiry; I was gonna head over to Cassian's apartment tonight and teach him how to unlock his semblance. You wanna tag along?"

"Just because I have an aura doesn't mean I have a semblance." Valor reminded his friend as he shut his locker. "I thought you knew that by now. We don't all get to have 'memory fingers.'"

Boris shushed his friend, irritably. "You swore you'd stop calling it that."

"That's what it is and you know it."

"Uh, no. That's not what it is, and it's called 'mnemonic insight.' You're supposed to be smart."

"I am smart."

Just then, a dark-skinned girl opened her locker right next to Boris. This was Darla Oxford; another of Boris' friends.

"Hey, Darla!" Boris called out to his other friend. "If you had a semblance-"

"I'd have enhanced strength and use it to kick your ass." The teenager remarked with a smug grin as she grabbed her equipment for shop class.

"Wow. No hesitation." Boris chuckled as he leaned against his own locker. "But, y'know, Oxford, if you did kick my ass, I wouldn't be able to give you the super-cool Krasnaya thing I found over the weekend. It's fine, I'll just give it to someone else."

Darla's brow furrowed with suspicion as she turned back to her friend. "What super-cool Krasnaya thing…?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's nothing special, y'know? Just a-" Boris smugly reached into his pocket and pulled out a cartoonish decal of the Red Woman's head. "-limited edition ultra-rare mint-condition Krasnaya vinyl decal."

Darla's eyes widened in shock. "What?!"

"I mean, if you don't want it, I can just throw it away." Boris teased.

Darla, however, took his threat seriously and desperately reached for the sticker. "What?! No! Don't you-that's not funny, Maroon! Gimme that!"

"Okay! Okay! Calm down!" Boris laughed, pushing her back while holding the sticker away. "Don't grab at it, you're gonna crease it. Here…"

Boris gingerly peeled the protective seal from the back of the sticker before carefully smoothing it out on Darla's welding hood.

"Thanks." She smiled. "Though for the record you'll have to tell me someday how you're able to get all this stuff."

"Not a problem," Boris readily replied. "Though for the record, you'll need to pry that information from my cold dead body."

"Seriously, thanks." Darla lightly punched her friend's shoulder and admired the sticker on her welding hood. "Y'know, Krasnaya is-"

"-the only woman ever granted exemption for not being a registered huntress." Boris rolled his eyes as he finished the sentence with Darla. "Yeah, Oxford, I know. I only had an entire blog dedicated to her."

"Oh, right: forgot about that," Darla called out with a sheepish expression on her face.

At last, the bell rang, signaling the first period was about to start. Valor and Boris made their way towards computer science while Darla headed to shop.

"By the way, I'm sorry about Cyan the other day." Boris remarked. "She doesn't understand how hard it's been trying to find my dad's killer."

"It's fine." Valor shrugged. "Although, I can certainly understand why she would be concerned. You could end up in prison. And the scandal could ruin your mother's career."

"Funny: Holly mentioned something similar the last time we hung out," Boris called out with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, the Savior: when am I going to meet her?"

"Hard to say, but I'll see if Cyan and I can arrange something."

"Good to know."

Twenty minutes later, the duo were assigned to write out a line of code. The teacher turned on a TV for background noise while her students worked and she read the newspaper. However, Valor noticed a breaking news report flashing across the screen.

"Mrs. Teal? Can you turn that up, please?"

Without looking up from her newspaper, the teacher reached over and turned up the volume.

"We interrupt this program to bring you an important announcement." The newscaster declared. "Earlier this morning, one Jared Smith attacked and killed his wife with a butcher's cleaver before pouring sulfuric acid on their son's face. Please, be warned; the images you're about to see may be too disturbing for younger viewers."

The students gasped in shock and disgust at the sight of a young teen with his face melted off and a woman vivisected on the floor. The news also showed the culprit being dragged away by the police while Commissioner Maroon worked with the paramedics to keep the kid alive. At last, the news broadcast ended and the students went back to their projects.

"Wow that was disturbing," Boris felt the need to remark before noticing that Valor was staring at the screen. He couldn't see Valor's expression due to the mask, but he knew something was wrong. "Hey, everything okay?"

"It happened again."

"What did?" Boris couldn't help but ask.

"I had this exact same thing happen to me when I was younger."

Boris gave a shocked blink upon hearing this. "You're sure?"

"100% certain," Valor immediately replied before pausing and humming to himself. "Actually make that 99.998% certain: nothing is 100%. Regardless, this means I might finally learn the truth about what happened to my father."

Just then, the bell rang again. But instead of heading towards his next class, Boris saw Valor head back to his locker to review his board once again. The masked teenager traced his fingers along the strings as he mentally connected the dots. Boris watched with confusion and interest.

"Hmm… my father used my mother's blood to write strange symbols on the wall… just like this man did with his wife's blood." Valor remarked to himself. "If I could compare the symbols, it could mean that my father was influenced by some sort of underground organization."

"Okay, pal, if - if - IF you're right, how exactly do you plan to prove it?" Boris reasoned.

Valor frowned underneath his mask. "I'm going to have to pay a visit to an old friend."

At the end of the day, Boris tried to catch up with his friend to stop him, but Valor was already long gone. He ducked into an alley to change into his costume just as his scroll rang.

"Jolly Jeff's Jelly Donuts, this is Geoff with a 'G.'" He answered, jokingly, as he hid his backpack where no one could find it. "How many baker's dozens should I write you down for?"

"Would it kill you to answer the scroll like a normal person?" Jane sighed to hide her amusement.

"Well, I gotta be me, mom." Boris shrugged and pulled his mask out of his other pocket. "I saw you on the news this morning. You doing okay?"

"Yeah… for the most part." Jane sighed again, this time much more tiredly. "Are you behaving yourself?"

"Of course." Boris nodded. "But, uh, listen; I'm gonna be late tonight. I gotta help a buddy of mine out of some trouble."

Jane took notice of the concern in her son's tone. "Hmm, is your friend in trouble, or is he the trouble?"

"I mean, he's either in trouble… or he's gonna be." Boris grumbled and slipped the mask over his face. "Don't worry, I'm just gonna follow him. Try to reason with him."

"Alright. I'll save your dinner in the fridge."

Bluharbor, Vale.

Professor Franklin Sulfur was - to put it bluntly - a miserable old bastard. He often cursed himself for having trapped himself in one of the worst cities in Vale at such a young age. In his defense, back then, he was younger with stars in his eyes. He believed that education could provide the citizens with an opportunity to rise above their misfortune. At one point, he even took in a foster child under his wing. But as time went on, he realized how futile his dreams were. And before he could get out and start over, he was too old and too tired.

He still taught down at the local university, but he had too few students to care much about what he taught them. He was just heading home for the night when he noticed that the lock to his apartment door had been picked. As he quietly made his way inside, he grabbed the bat he kept hidden under his couch and slowly crept towards the kitchen. However, his fear soon turned to surprise once he recognized the chrome mask of the intruder.

Valor was sitting at the kitchen's island table. Having detached the lower half of his mask, Valor had cooked a can of soup and was now eating it straight from the pot.

"Valor?" The old man gasped as he set the bat down. "Maidens, is that you?"

"Good evening, Franklin…" Valor mumbled out a greeting in between spoonfuls. "I got hungry waiting for you… helped myself to some soup… hope you don't mind."

"Uh, no. No, it's fine. I'm… I'm happy to see you again after so long. How've you been?"

"Out of trouble… so far." Valor remarked as he finished his soup and reattached the lower half of his mask. Then, he pulled the photograph from his hoodie's pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Franklin, look at this."

Franklin put on his glasses and leaned down to inspect the picture. "What is that? Hamburger meat?"

"Human hamburger meat." Valor remarked. "Someone poured acid on their kid's face after killing their wife and drawing strange symbols on their walls with her blood. Sound familiar?"

Franklin gravely picked up the photograph to get a closer look. "... where's the guy who did this?"

"He's locked up in the NRPD's holding cells. Seems he didn't want to follow the last step."

"You mean, he's alive?"

"That's a gentler way of saying it." Valor remarked. "Franklin, I need the case file the foster system gave you."

"You think this crime is connected to your own, erm… incident?"

"I came here to ask you for a favor, Franklin." Valor stepped closer to his former guardian, making the old man back away, nervously. "I promised myself I'd ask nicely first as a common courtesy. But if you insist on making it difficult, I can oblige…"

Franklin sighed and made his way into the living room. Valor followed close behind and watched with interest as the old man took a painting off the wall to reveal a wall safe behind it. The teenage sleuth silently memorized the combination then watched as Franklin opened it and pulled out the file he needed.

"Here… it's all right there."

Valor accepted the folder and opened it up. As he suspected, the methods of the new assailant matched those of his late father's. Even the symbols written in blood were a perfect match. He showed the pictures to Franklin then made his way back out the door.

"Are you seeing this? It's a perfect match. Clearly, whoever this man is, he was coerced into doing this by someone else. Just like my father. This has to be the work of some underground organization. A pagan cult running wild."

Franklin blinked. "Don't you think that's a little paranoid?"

"Is that what you think of me? I'm paranoid?"

"Valor, what exactly are you planning to do with this information?" Franklin asked. "I mean, say you find the grand architect of this cult… what then?"

Valor turned to face his old friend once more. "Retribution." He growled.

"You're not a huntsman."

"Says the government."

"Says me!" Franklin snapped, impatiently. "Look, I know we didn't exactly split up on the best of terms, but I do still care about you, Valor. I do. If you're wrong - which is a very high possibility - I don't want your blood on my hands."

"It won't be." Valor scoffed as he turned to head down the street.

"Where are you going?" Franklin called out.

"Back to New Rushland… there's only one place someone can get that particular acid in the city… the university… be seeing you, Franklin…"

"...there's a bus stop about two and a half blocks down the street." Franklin advised. "It'll take you as far as the city limit to New Rushland-"

"I know." Valor called back. "I used to ride that bus a lot. Back when you fostered me."

"Heh, yeah. Those were some good times, eh, Valor? Good times." Franklin laughed, half-heartedly. "Whatever happened to them?"

"You quit." Valor spat, bitterly.

Once his former foster child was out of sight, Franklin sadly closed the door and slumped down on his couch to sulk.

New Rushland.

When Valor returned to the city, he hastily made his way to the university. Pulling his hood over his head and tapping a button on the side of the mask to change it from chrome to black, he managed to sneak past security and make it inside the science lab. He then gave the area a quick once-over, hoping to find something to aid in his investigation. As he arrived on the third floor where the chemistry lab was located, he spotted a security camera around the corner. Taking out a laser-pointer, he flashed it directly into the lens, knowing that it would temporarily short-circuit the camera and give him a thirty second window to sneak into the lab.

But once he was inside, he saw that someone else was already inside. It was a cultist dressed in a high-tech suit of armor branded with a symbol similar to the ones he'd seen in the photos from earlier. Before he could decide what to do about this complication, however, the cultist - having no doubt sensed his presence - turned towards Valor with a slight chuckle.

"You know, I was expecting someone to show up tonight, but I thought I'd be encountering Krasnaya or at least one of her young wards," the cultist couldn't help but remark.

"Learn to cope," Valor snarled out. "I assume you are associated with the cult who influenced the man to kill his wife and pour acid on his son?"

"Indeed." the cultist remarked as she took out a sword. "Not that it matters as I was instructed to silence anyone who might interfere with our plans and you sadly qualify. For what it's worth though, you can take comfort in knowing that every death we arrange, including your own, serves a higher purpose."

"Be that as it may, I'm not ready to die quite yet," Valor barked out as he got into a fighting stance. When the cultist lunged at him, Valor grabbed a nearby bottle of lye and threw it at them, covering their visor and blinding them. With his opponent disoriented, Valor grabbed a fire extinguisher and swung it as hard as he could. Unfortunately the cultist was able to block the blow with her sword, causing the extinguisher to burst and covering the whole area in a chilling mist as a result.

Valor instinctively ducked down behind a table to wipe the fire-retardant dust from his mask while his assailant blindly swung through the mist. As he made his way to the exit, he grabbed a beaker and threw it across the lab, drawing the cultist's attention. Once she was distracted, he bolted out of the lab and hurried back down to the first floor. Unfortunately, he failed to consider that his escape would leave behind footprints from the fire-retardant and the cultist quickly caught up.

The armored cultist used rockets built into her suit to propel up into the air with a tight grip on Valor's ankle. Once they were high enough, she released her grip to let the masked teenager fall to the ground. But as he watched the cultist fly away and he closed his eyes to await his death, he felt someone else grab him again and swing him up to a nearby rooftop. He looked up in surprise to find that Magenta had saved his life.

"Are you alright, citizen?" Magenta asked, offering Valor a helping hand.

But the masked teenager just stared back at the vigilante. "... Maroon?"

"Wha - no."

"Boris Maroon?"

"No!"

"It is you, isn't it?" Valor pushed himself up and got back on his feet. "You're Krasnaya's side-kick?"

"I-I don't - you've got me confused with someone else, buddy."

"You're not even disguising your voice, Maroon."

Magenta quickly realized that his friend was right and fumbled with his glove to reactivate his voice-scrambler. "Ah, well, as flattered as I am that you think I'm your friend, I'm afraid I'm going to need to escort you home," Magenta called out with his now-disguised voice only to frown upon taking note of the flat expression on Valor's face. "Not buying it, are you?"

"Nope."

"And you aren't going to let me go after that cultist on my own, correct?"

"Yep."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Magenta said with a groan.

"Glad we're on the same page…as well as how I now know that this is how you get all of that Krasnaya merchandise," Valor remarked, recalling the discussion with Darla from earlier.

"What?! NO! That's just a coincidence!" Magenta called out. "And in any case, we've got other things to worry about right now, don't you think?"

"Fair point." Valor said with a shrug. "Though if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing out here, anyways?"

"I know what it's like to want justice for the death of a loved one, so I figured that you might need some backup in case something went wrong."

"Well you won't hear me complaining," Valor said with a shrug. "But it looks like I won't be getting any further with my investigation tonight. My only lead just flew off."

"If it makes you feel better, you called it, man." Magenta leaned over to check their surroundings before continuing his conversation with Valor. "Look, I can't tell you a whole lot, but Krasnaya, Azure, and I have run into this organization a lot before."

"You have?"

"Yeah. Remember when Hazel Rainhardt attacked a couple years ago?"

"He was working for them?"

"Eh, more like they paid him to do the heavy lifting while they took credit for the destruction he would have caused. They call themselves the Cult of Grimm. They worship Salem, or the God of Darkness, or both. All we really know is that they've been around for a while. Anyway, I told Krasnaya about your dad. Apparently, this has happened hundreds of times in the past. The leader of the Cult preys on low-income workers with little to lose by getting in their heads, convincing them to transfer all of their life-savings to the Cult's account, then killing their family. The Cult believes that the pain of their victims' children strengthen Salem to prepare her for her resurrection."

"So… it was all for nothing…" Valor's shoulders slumped. "My father killed himself and my mother for nothing…"

Magenta sadly sat next to his friend to comfort him. "Look, I'm sorry that the answer to this mystery wasn't quite what you were expecting, but it won't be for nothing. I'll keep you updated and when the time comes, I'll make sure you see the leader gets justice."

Valor smiled under his mask. "Thank you, Boris… you're a good friend."

Boris smiled under his own mask. "No problem, man."

"So how do you get all that Krasnaya merchandise if your time as a masked vigilante apparently has nothing to do with it?" Valor couldn't help but ask.

"If you must know, I know a guy who owes me a favor or two, and that's all I'll be saying on the matter," Magenta called out with a slight roll of his eyes.

"Fair enough, and for what it's worth, you don't have to worry about your identity being exposed: I know how to keep a secret," Valor remarked.

"Said the man dedicated to unraveling all the worlds' secrets," Magenta called out with a deadpan expression.

"I know, I know: not exactly easy to trust a conspiracy theorist," Valor said with a sigh, before gaining a small grin. "The thing is, the good ones know that there are some secrets out there that the world isn't ready to know, and this is one of them."

Magenta merely blinked before giving a nod. "Well thanks for that."

"...that being said, I do have some questions about Krasnaya's hideout that I'll want to ask later," Valor admitted. "I'm hoping to see how true some of the rumors I've heard are."

"That's fair, but trust me when I say that whatever rumors you've heard all pale in comparison to the real thing," Magenta replied with a snort before turning to look at his companion with a sigh. "I'm sorry the cultist got away, by the way."

"Me too, but don't worry: I'm not giving up," Valor called out. "Not until I've dragged the truth into the light… speaking of which, I'm assuming Cyan doesn't know about this?"

Boris sighed. "No… I wish I could tell her, but what if she doesn't understand?"

"Well, how's this for an inquiry?" Valor remarked, cheekily. "Would it be worse if you don't tell her, and she somehow finds out from someone else?"

Boris didn't answer. He just hopped onto the motorcycle Krasnaya had lent him and hurried home.

Meanwhile, the armored cultist flew to an empty warehouse on the edge of New Rushland, landing outside and slowly walking in through the large garage door. Once inside, they bowed before Jade Munsell who was waiting for them. They took off their helmet and set it down at her master's feet.

"I'm sorry, master." Darla Oxford lamented, humbly. "I failed you… I surrender myself for immediate execution."

"... on the contrary, young one." Jade smiled. "You've done me a great favor. Thanks to you, I now know that there are others besides the Red Woman who will go against the arbitrary system of mankind for their own ends. Cleansing this world will be much easier than I previously expected."

To Be Continued!