RE: Incident [TEXT]
06-14-2013, 09:42 PM
"Actually, I did find out something interesting last night. Turns out a rumour's been going around about me being a sparker. Some people didn't like that. Took a few blows to convince them otherwise."
Aaron pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly lowers it.
“That's a rather serious accusation to have floating around,” he says carefully.
“And you know what's strange, Aaron?”
His eyes dart from side to side, as if sensing a trap, but he succeeds in keeping his voice normal as he replies.
“What?”
“I was told that this rumour has been around ever since I brought in that pyro a few weeks ago. I think we must have spoken at least twice since then. The first time, that's understandable. It might not have gotten around to you yet. But after that? You'd think it would be the first thing off your lips, what with my dad being an old friend of yours and all, and the accusation being as serious as you say. What do you think, Aaron?”
He doesn't speak.
“And here's the real clincher. You see this?” You point to your black eye. “Yeah, that? If I'd known what people were saying I might have avoided this. So if somebody knew about that rumour, but declined to tell me about it, I think that makes these lovely bruises their fault. So how about it, Aaron? Is there something you haven't told me?”
He licks his lips nervously.
“I, uh, cripes. Okay, okay. I might have heard something. I'm sorry. Honestly.”
You look him in the eye. His gaze darts away, suddenly finding his plate interesting indeed.
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Uh...” Aaron shrugs, then picks up his fork again and resumes eating, talking between bites. “It's kind of a big thing, to be hiding powers... and I – well I didn't think you were one, it's just-”
“You weren't sure. And you wanted to make sure, huh?”
“Well-”
“Because if I didn't know that people suspected I was a sparker, but I actually was, and then I let something slip... would you have sold me out, Aaron?”
He looks up immediately, eyes wide. “Well, I, uh, it's not, er...”
You sigh and close your eyes. When you open them, Aaron looks no less mortified.
“Never mind. Don't answer that. To be honest, it's no less than I expected. But I had hoped for better … so let's just say that you owe me.”
Aaron blinks, but wastes no time in asking the obvious question.
“What do you want?”
“I just want information on a few things. Anything you might have heard about them, bullshit or not.” You toss the paper down in front of him. “Let's start with this.”
Aaron's shoots you a distrustful look, but obviously eager to atone he dutifully examines the paper. “Number 6? What do you want to know about him for?”
You debate brushing off the question, but a vague answer would probably be better for restoring the lack of good will around here.
“Something is going on. Stuff like the emblem in the sky: that's obvious, but there are more subtle indications. But we'll get to those in a minute. What do you know about what happened last night?”
“There was some kind of fuss in the Old Bank. You know the one? On Crestbridge Street?”
“I know it. What about it?”
“I heard a load of people turned up and went inside, about half an hour before the emblem appeared. All of them were wearing red scarves over their faces and wearing these big coats. There are a lot of conflicting reports about who they were. Some think they were part of Six's army, others say a special branch of mercenaries or police. They looked too organised to be just ordinary rabble. A few have said the Red Queen was behind it, hence the red scarves, and they seem to back that up with claims that Kierkgaard was there. You know who she is? Right hand-”
“I know who Kierkgaard is. Anything else?”
“Not about the Old Bank. As soon as Number 6 started up his light show most of the red scarves just up and left again. No idea what went on inside, just that Number 6 must have been in there. Maybe he got flushed out? Do you think that was his base of operations?”
“Doesn't seem likely. You'd think he'd have some other people in there with him, and from the sounds of it only Number 6 and the red scarves left. Not to mention it's kind of conspicuous.”
“It might be obvious, but nobody goes in there. Hiding in plain sight and all that.”
“You've still got the problem of no one appearing to enter or leave. It's hard to run a headquarters with no people in it.”
“Yeah, well, do you know why the Old Bank closed down in the first place?”
“You know?”
Aaron looks incredibly pleased with himself.
“'Structural Instability.' A problem with the foundations was discovered, something that went unnoticed when it was built. Word is they found a whole load of tunnels beneath it – like ancient streets that got built on top of. One major issue is that they led just beneath the vault, which wasn't exactly secure. So what if somebody found another way into the tunnels, and drilled up a bit: you'd have a place no one would ever think to look in, as long as you didn't mind of the possibility of the place collapsing around you. How about it?”
It's a good theory. Too bad that you know it's crap because the Old Bank was so obviously abandoned.
“Interesting,” is all you say. He looks a little hurt, so you reach for another topic. “You said that some people thought the Red Queen was involved in the events last night. Mercenaries and Number 6's sparkers kind of make sense, but why would she have anything to do with Number 6?”
He shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe Six did something to piss her off. They're both kind of clandestine, and apparently have a large number of sparkers at their command. Faction warfare is far from impossible.”
“I guess. Say, do you know anything about those murders a couple of years ago?”
“A couple of years ago?”
“Yeah, serial killings. Lasted about two months, eight victims. I was out of town at the time, but apparently I missed a circus.”
“That'd be the Black Arrow Killer. What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Like I said, I missed it completely. Method of killing, links between kills, suspects, whatever.”
A crooked smile starts to form on his face.
“What? Why the smirk?”
“You don't know anything? Not even how they found the victims?” An expression of morbid glee has spread over his face.
“No... how bad was it?” You're starting to feel a little nervous about this. Aaron seems to be enjoying himself. Apparently two years is long enough for the horrific to become just a horror story.
He leans in closer, and in a conspiratorial whisper, he tells you.
“They were eaten.”
“What?”
“First, he decapitated them. Every crime scene, there would be a head sitting on the side, looking at their chewed remains. After that, he just went to town. Sliced off muscle, dug out the heart, the liver, most major organs. Then he'd crack open the bigger bones and suck out the marrow.”
“He ate them... raw? And all at once?”
“I guess they don't actually know for sure that he ate them, but there sure was a lot missing from the corpses. And a teeth marks here and there. None of the removed remains ever turned up. They say the killer left a mark at the scenes, painted on the wall. The police did their best to keep it under wraps. Didn't want an copycat killings, I guess. But I heard that it was a black arrow of some kind.”
“Pretty messed up, huh?”
“Yeah. Makes you wonder what kind of person could do that kind of thing.”
You don't say anything for a little while. Aaron continues eating his breakfast, apparently completely unperturbed.
It's Esser. It has to be. Why else would he bring up the killings? And he's a Warped Sparker. Literally monstrous. Who better to fit the bill of cannibal? And...
Your mind flashes back to last night. There was blood all around his face, all over his hands. Shit. He ate someone. Who? And why? Why now, after two years? Why the hell did he do any of this?
“Are you okay?”
You look up, and Alence is looking at you with something approaching concern.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for your help, Aaron. There was one more thing...”
As you look on Aaron tenses, his gaze suddenly fixed on something outside the window. You turn to see what it is. There's a small group of smartly dressed people walking towards the café, but while a little strange that doesn't strike you as cause for alarm.
You turn back around to ask Aaron what his problem is, but he's already gone. You slide out of the booth and see him at the door.
“Aaron!”
He only pauses only long enough to spare you a questioning glance. You throw down enough cash to cover the food and dash out after him.
As soon as you're through the door you slam into one of the people that scared off Alence. You stumble, spitting out an apology, and they grab your shoulder to steady you.
“Was that Aaron Alence?”
You ignore them initially, whipping your head in the direction that Aaron went in. You were too slow. Or he's just too good at evading pursuers. Either way, he's vanished. You turn your attention back to the person you slammed into. He smiles amiably at you from behind darkened glasses. The rest of the group are looking at you with guarded interest.
“Yeah, that was Alence.”
“I haven't seen him in a while. But you were in a hurry. Did he lift your wallet?”
Even though you know he can't have, you instinctively pat your pocket.
“Not this time.”
He nods. “Are you Alexus Silk?”
“Yes. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
He nods again, and smiles a little more icily.
“I'm Detective Sergeant Redford. My colleagues,” he looks at the other people in the group, “are here to bring you in for questioning concerning the murder of Alexander Dupont yesterday evening. I'm aware that you went through that yesterday, but there have been one or two developments which make a second round necessary. I'm sure you understand.”
“What's wrong with a phone call?”
“You weren't answering.” An innocent enough reply, but everyone here seems on edge. Four officers seems a little unnecessary as well. Unless...?
The image of Esser smeared with blood springs to mind again.
You're keenly aware that the morning is wearing on, and with every passing minute it becomes increasingly likely that you won't be around to sign for your package. At the same time, you don't seem to have much of a choice about going along with the police. Even without considering the uneasy alertness of the people they sent to bring you in.
Nevertheless, they might grant you a small request if doesn't delay them too much. The obvious choice is to ask to go to your office to check for the package, but you have a bad feeling about this and it might be worth taking some measures to protect or at least inform yourself. If you can think of anything.
What do you say?
Aaron pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly lowers it.
“That's a rather serious accusation to have floating around,” he says carefully.
“And you know what's strange, Aaron?”
His eyes dart from side to side, as if sensing a trap, but he succeeds in keeping his voice normal as he replies.
“What?”
“I was told that this rumour has been around ever since I brought in that pyro a few weeks ago. I think we must have spoken at least twice since then. The first time, that's understandable. It might not have gotten around to you yet. But after that? You'd think it would be the first thing off your lips, what with my dad being an old friend of yours and all, and the accusation being as serious as you say. What do you think, Aaron?”
He doesn't speak.
“And here's the real clincher. You see this?” You point to your black eye. “Yeah, that? If I'd known what people were saying I might have avoided this. So if somebody knew about that rumour, but declined to tell me about it, I think that makes these lovely bruises their fault. So how about it, Aaron? Is there something you haven't told me?”
He licks his lips nervously.
“I, uh, cripes. Okay, okay. I might have heard something. I'm sorry. Honestly.”
You look him in the eye. His gaze darts away, suddenly finding his plate interesting indeed.
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Uh...” Aaron shrugs, then picks up his fork again and resumes eating, talking between bites. “It's kind of a big thing, to be hiding powers... and I – well I didn't think you were one, it's just-”
“You weren't sure. And you wanted to make sure, huh?”
“Well-”
“Because if I didn't know that people suspected I was a sparker, but I actually was, and then I let something slip... would you have sold me out, Aaron?”
He looks up immediately, eyes wide. “Well, I, uh, it's not, er...”
You sigh and close your eyes. When you open them, Aaron looks no less mortified.
“Never mind. Don't answer that. To be honest, it's no less than I expected. But I had hoped for better … so let's just say that you owe me.”
Aaron blinks, but wastes no time in asking the obvious question.
“What do you want?”
“I just want information on a few things. Anything you might have heard about them, bullshit or not.” You toss the paper down in front of him. “Let's start with this.”
Aaron's shoots you a distrustful look, but obviously eager to atone he dutifully examines the paper. “Number 6? What do you want to know about him for?”
You debate brushing off the question, but a vague answer would probably be better for restoring the lack of good will around here.
“Something is going on. Stuff like the emblem in the sky: that's obvious, but there are more subtle indications. But we'll get to those in a minute. What do you know about what happened last night?”
“There was some kind of fuss in the Old Bank. You know the one? On Crestbridge Street?”
“I know it. What about it?”
“I heard a load of people turned up and went inside, about half an hour before the emblem appeared. All of them were wearing red scarves over their faces and wearing these big coats. There are a lot of conflicting reports about who they were. Some think they were part of Six's army, others say a special branch of mercenaries or police. They looked too organised to be just ordinary rabble. A few have said the Red Queen was behind it, hence the red scarves, and they seem to back that up with claims that Kierkgaard was there. You know who she is? Right hand-”
“I know who Kierkgaard is. Anything else?”
“Not about the Old Bank. As soon as Number 6 started up his light show most of the red scarves just up and left again. No idea what went on inside, just that Number 6 must have been in there. Maybe he got flushed out? Do you think that was his base of operations?”
“Doesn't seem likely. You'd think he'd have some other people in there with him, and from the sounds of it only Number 6 and the red scarves left. Not to mention it's kind of conspicuous.”
“It might be obvious, but nobody goes in there. Hiding in plain sight and all that.”
“You've still got the problem of no one appearing to enter or leave. It's hard to run a headquarters with no people in it.”
“Yeah, well, do you know why the Old Bank closed down in the first place?”
“You know?”
Aaron looks incredibly pleased with himself.
“'Structural Instability.' A problem with the foundations was discovered, something that went unnoticed when it was built. Word is they found a whole load of tunnels beneath it – like ancient streets that got built on top of. One major issue is that they led just beneath the vault, which wasn't exactly secure. So what if somebody found another way into the tunnels, and drilled up a bit: you'd have a place no one would ever think to look in, as long as you didn't mind of the possibility of the place collapsing around you. How about it?”
It's a good theory. Too bad that you know it's crap because the Old Bank was so obviously abandoned.
“Interesting,” is all you say. He looks a little hurt, so you reach for another topic. “You said that some people thought the Red Queen was involved in the events last night. Mercenaries and Number 6's sparkers kind of make sense, but why would she have anything to do with Number 6?”
He shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe Six did something to piss her off. They're both kind of clandestine, and apparently have a large number of sparkers at their command. Faction warfare is far from impossible.”
“I guess. Say, do you know anything about those murders a couple of years ago?”
“A couple of years ago?”
“Yeah, serial killings. Lasted about two months, eight victims. I was out of town at the time, but apparently I missed a circus.”
“That'd be the Black Arrow Killer. What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Like I said, I missed it completely. Method of killing, links between kills, suspects, whatever.”
A crooked smile starts to form on his face.
“What? Why the smirk?”
“You don't know anything? Not even how they found the victims?” An expression of morbid glee has spread over his face.
“No... how bad was it?” You're starting to feel a little nervous about this. Aaron seems to be enjoying himself. Apparently two years is long enough for the horrific to become just a horror story.
He leans in closer, and in a conspiratorial whisper, he tells you.
“They were eaten.”
“What?”
“First, he decapitated them. Every crime scene, there would be a head sitting on the side, looking at their chewed remains. After that, he just went to town. Sliced off muscle, dug out the heart, the liver, most major organs. Then he'd crack open the bigger bones and suck out the marrow.”
“He ate them... raw? And all at once?”
“I guess they don't actually know for sure that he ate them, but there sure was a lot missing from the corpses. And a teeth marks here and there. None of the removed remains ever turned up. They say the killer left a mark at the scenes, painted on the wall. The police did their best to keep it under wraps. Didn't want an copycat killings, I guess. But I heard that it was a black arrow of some kind.”
“Pretty messed up, huh?”
“Yeah. Makes you wonder what kind of person could do that kind of thing.”
You don't say anything for a little while. Aaron continues eating his breakfast, apparently completely unperturbed.
It's Esser. It has to be. Why else would he bring up the killings? And he's a Warped Sparker. Literally monstrous. Who better to fit the bill of cannibal? And...
Your mind flashes back to last night. There was blood all around his face, all over his hands. Shit. He ate someone. Who? And why? Why now, after two years? Why the hell did he do any of this?
“Are you okay?”
You look up, and Alence is looking at you with something approaching concern.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for your help, Aaron. There was one more thing...”
As you look on Aaron tenses, his gaze suddenly fixed on something outside the window. You turn to see what it is. There's a small group of smartly dressed people walking towards the café, but while a little strange that doesn't strike you as cause for alarm.
You turn back around to ask Aaron what his problem is, but he's already gone. You slide out of the booth and see him at the door.
“Aaron!”
He only pauses only long enough to spare you a questioning glance. You throw down enough cash to cover the food and dash out after him.
As soon as you're through the door you slam into one of the people that scared off Alence. You stumble, spitting out an apology, and they grab your shoulder to steady you.
“Was that Aaron Alence?”
You ignore them initially, whipping your head in the direction that Aaron went in. You were too slow. Or he's just too good at evading pursuers. Either way, he's vanished. You turn your attention back to the person you slammed into. He smiles amiably at you from behind darkened glasses. The rest of the group are looking at you with guarded interest.
“Yeah, that was Alence.”
“I haven't seen him in a while. But you were in a hurry. Did he lift your wallet?”
Even though you know he can't have, you instinctively pat your pocket.
“Not this time.”
He nods. “Are you Alexus Silk?”
“Yes. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
He nods again, and smiles a little more icily.
“I'm Detective Sergeant Redford. My colleagues,” he looks at the other people in the group, “are here to bring you in for questioning concerning the murder of Alexander Dupont yesterday evening. I'm aware that you went through that yesterday, but there have been one or two developments which make a second round necessary. I'm sure you understand.”
“What's wrong with a phone call?”
“You weren't answering.” An innocent enough reply, but everyone here seems on edge. Four officers seems a little unnecessary as well. Unless...?
The image of Esser smeared with blood springs to mind again.
You're keenly aware that the morning is wearing on, and with every passing minute it becomes increasingly likely that you won't be around to sign for your package. At the same time, you don't seem to have much of a choice about going along with the police. Even without considering the uneasy alertness of the people they sent to bring you in.
Nevertheless, they might grant you a small request if doesn't delay them too much. The obvious choice is to ask to go to your office to check for the package, but you have a bad feeling about this and it might be worth taking some measures to protect or at least inform yourself. If you can think of anything.
What do you say?
Spoiler