Incident [TEXT]

You briefly consider asking one of your informants to go to the archives for you, but you instantly dismiss the thought. That's the kind of tedious leg work that's just insulting to ask of others, especially of the kind of people you want to keep on good terms with. You'll do it yourself later. You're not keen to return to the scene of Dupont's murder either: Number 6 implied the package would have everything you need, and the place will be crawling with police. The death happened last evening, so the forensic team will be present in full force now we're in office hours.

You spend a little time loading your gun and securing your shoulder holster. You shouldn't need it, certainly not for a friendly meeting, but better to have it just in case something comes up. The gyroscope ends up in your pocket again, out of lack of places to put it, and the cigarette box (seventeen remaining, plus one smoke bomb and one razor blade) finds its way into your inner jacket pocket. It feels entirely too familiar and comfortable against your ribcage.

Those items addressed, you pull your address book off of a bookcase and lean against a wall to leaf through it. For reasons you never really made clear to yourself, you wrote down descriptive codenames you made up rather than the actual names of the people in here. Three leap out at you: the Lady, the Ex-Cop and the Voyeur.

The Lady probably isn't the best choice. A popular dinner guest and conversationalist in wealthier circles, her speciality is gossip. She's happy to talk to just about anyone as long as they have something interesting to say, which is probably the only reason the two of you are on speaking terms. However, it seems unlikely that a rumour about someone pretending they aren't a sparker would ever reach her ears unless they were either wealthy or powerful. You are neither of those things. Not to mention her tastes are expensive, and buying her breakfast at the sort of places she expects to eat at would likely wipe out Number 6's advance payment. That said, she is always very obliging, very pleasant company and possibly the only one you know who is knowledgeable enough about the ebb and flow of power in this city to recognise traces of a secret society. Like the Myriad, for instance. It might be worth asking her about that.

The Ex-Cop is a better choice. An old friend of your dad's who got kicked out of the police force for his kleptomaniac habits, he has his ear to the ground where criminals are concerned. Most of his friends fall into that category, after all. He's probably the person you're most angry at for not cluing you in. He's kind of shady, but he'll be content with the fare available at a greasy spoon.

The Voyeur is shadier still. You don't ask her about what is that she does, exactly, partly because you doubt she'd tell you and partly because what few indications she's made about it make you distinctly uncomfortable. The Voyeur is much less of a friend. Interactions between the two of you are purely business. If you want anything specific she will demand payment, either in cash or information, in terms that make it clear that she's used to these kinds of transactions. As far as you can tell, scandal and dirty little secrets are that commodities she deals mostly in. She has never said so but you're quite certain she knows all about your parentage. It stands to reason that other rumours about you would catch her attention, especially concerning a crime as severe as hiding powers. You've never seen her eat so you won't have to buy breakfast for her at least. You also know one or two facts about Number 6 now that you might be able to tempt her with, if you feel comfortable betraying his (and perhaps Esser's) confidence.

Who do you call?

SpoilerShow

Noted for posterity and transparency: previously I said Dupont died in the morning. I don't like that very much so that's now been retconned and he died in the evening.