Chapter 2: Three for a funeral
Assault-has-many-definitions gives me a recap of the events I missed.
"Three main things happened that you missed." he says, "Firstly. Kara is dead. She was murdered last night."
"Kara?" I ask.
"The glowing lady that attacked us."
"She's dead?" I say, stunned. "Did we do this?"
"No. We don't know who did it." He replies. "Second, when we returned, your house had a symbol spray painted on the front door. A white snowflake, and a black cat's paw imposed over top of it."
"Nobody should know where this is…" I say slowly, considering the implications. "The symbols remind me of these boys at the ball. One was wearing all white, and he looked like an ice statue, and the other was wearing a black cat suit. They called themselves Shard for the one in white, and Claw for the boy in black. I think they were a couple."
"Noted. Thirdly, and possibly most disturbingly, one of your victims disappeared from the morgue."
"Pardon?" I say, because that sentence does not make logical sense to me.
"One of your victim's bodies disappeared from the morgue around the time of the ball."
"That's… strange. More than strange, it's…." I trail off without coming up with a comprehensive enough adjective. "I've got no explanation for that."
"There are files with more information on each incident in the war room."
"I'll look through them later. I have an awful headache and I think I'm just going to lie down for a while"
"Feel better" he says, turning away, having clearly dismissed me.
I walk back up to my room and lay on the bed, and Lolita jumps up to sit on the bed with me. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up to hazy light shining through the window, interspersed with dark patches from the bars across it. I get up and walk down to look at the files from the incidents that happened while I was out. I check the one about my front door first. While the others are more scary, they're not as urgent. Both those people are gonna stay dead for a very very long time, and I want to make sure I'm not dead first thing.
No visible footprints on the sidewalk or path to the door. No sign of forced entry, or entry at all. The old 'hair in the door' trick made that clear. The paint used on the door was from a common brand, Resene, and the mark isn't registered to any particular assassin. On a hunch, I separate the paw and the snowflake marks, and run that through Desolation. Bingo. Two assassins, always contracted together. Their names are, shocker, Claw and Shard. It's safe to assume that these are the boys I saw at the ball. They both use the same weapons, which appear to be part of a matching set (reinforcing my idea that they are a couple, and also, adorable) one knuckle duster, styled after cat's claws, and a short lance styled to look like an icicle. They have a high price, and they never give up on getting the kill. I sit down, unnerved. These two are a formidable foe.
I flip to the second file, on Kara's death. No body found? I doubt she's dead. Kara is terrifically ingenious, and I would be very surprised if this was real. But the facts don't lie. The amount of blood, her weapons left at the crime scene, everything points to her having been killed. But still, something is gnawing at me. Something is off. There are photos of the crime scene, and I flick through them. Her bandolier is missing, but I suppose that is par for the course, given she couldn't have taken it into the ball. Her wallet and phone are here, but no keys… that's odd, but could be explained. Perhaps her safehouse has a passcode lock. I set the file to the side, mentally marking it to be returned to, and then look at the third. The body of my previous victim has disappeared. His corpse disappeared from the morgue. There are fingerprints, but they all match up to lab techs other than one set on the door handle. There's no progress on whose they are, they don't match anyone in a system we can reach. Another thing to use Thomas's super secret database for. We really should get to doing that, but the problem for me at least, right now, is dealing with the door. Claw and Shard are new players, and while I have knowledge about their tactics, I don't have anything actionable to use against them. They must have some weakness. Especially given their such a close-knit pair. If I can find some way to split them apart, or even better, turn on one another, that makes them at the least much easier targets, if not out of the equation entirely. I need to learn what I can about them separately, and to do that I need to figure out who they really are. First things first, I need to find somebody one or both of them is connected to. Desolation gives me a third partner at one point, another teammate, and he left the two of them some years ago. That's good, there could be some bitterness or rivalry to work on there. He seems to have gone dark after he left the other two, but his name on Desolation is Ash. His account is stil active, just unused for around four years. Maybe they killed him. Maybe he's just hiding from the two of them. If I can find him, I can get closer to finding those two, and closer to being safe in my ancestral home. I focus my efforts on finding Ash. Meticulous efforts yield little results. I look at the time they split and the years before and after it with extra detail. In both of those years there's a distinct lowering in the number of jobs their group took out. Maybe that was then these two became a couple, and they cut out the third guy because they wanted to work together? But then he just would have worked alone or found another group to join, probably the former. So that's not it. He could have just decided to get out of the game, but keeps his Desolation account in case someone- maybe even Claw and Shard- decide to come after him. After all, killing people is morally not a good thing, but in terms of your wallet it's definitely a good thing. So let's assume that's what happened, for the sake of the argument, I think to myself. What's his next step? Get as far away from any contacts he has with his past as he can. So he isolates himself, but he has to do something new. So their last hit, just before the team broke up, was in Christchurch. So he probably got far away from Christchurch, which makes sense. There's a gap of three days between the team officially coming apart and their last hit, so something happened between those dates. So what was it. I do a quick google search of Christchurch + 23rd April 2019. I come up with a lot of hits, clearly, but dozens of these stories relate to… a plane crash. The day after the team broke up, there was a plane crash leaving Christchurch that day. I quickly revise my story. Third team member dies in a plane crash. They can't deactivate his account because they don't have the password, but they can announce that they aren't working together any longer. It sounds like it works. But there's a way to find out, albeit with some difficulty and a healthy dose of danger. But what isn't difficult, dangerous or otherwise demanding in this line of work? I begin to formulate a plan. I'm not running off half-cocked on my own this time. It will most likely be a stakeout type situation, so which of my teammates is best prepared for a stakeout? It's Nothing Personal… and EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist lack the patience, and i_make_bodies_not_friends and >rectified< lack the focus. So between my last two choices, I suspect Assault-has-many-definitions is the better pick, so I direct message him on Discord.
{it wasn't me sent a message: I want to find out more about Claw and Shard. I found them on Desolation pretty easily once I took apart the two markings. Stakeout? I'll bring Magic: The Gathering cards to keep us busy. ;)}
He replies instantly.
{Assault-has-many-definitions sent a message: Consider me in. What deck are you playing, so I know what to prepare for.}
{it wasn't me sent a message: My usual, the Abzan monstrosity.}
{Assault-has-many-definitions sent a message: Temur it is then}
I go to pack my bag, refilling my go-bag with snacks, noise-cancelling headphones, spare fidgets and of course, my cards.
{it wasn't me sent a message: When?}
{Assault-has-many-definitions sent a message: Why not now}
{it wasn't me sent a message: Ready when u r}
{Assault-has-many-definitions sent a message: sent a message: Let's go}
I trot down the stairs obediently, wondering how he intends to drive anywhere, considering all our cars are at my apartment and doubtless with their tires slashed, thanks to Kara, god rest her soul.
Although I still don't think she's dead! She's far too smart for that.
I soon figure out exactly how he means to do that- and that involves a convoluted series of events that I don't quite understand- I believe there was a nun involved, and some form of pastry knife? Although that sounds unlikely, to say the least. Perhaps I misheard.
However, whichever way it occurred, there's now a sleek black sedan waiting in no more than thirty-three minutes. (I timed it. I was curious) The sedan has a driver, who Assault-has-many-definitions introduces to me as Jerry, who doffs his hat and silently drives off- and by silently, I mean silently. He doesn't utter so much as a syllable for the entire ride, and upon delivering us to the destination, he gets out of the car and calls a taxi, still completely noiseless. We soon set up cards in the backseat, tinted windows shielding us from the view of any nosy neighbours. We split time between the game and the stakeout, each watching when not taking our turn. Abzan is my personal favourite colour group to play, just the right balance between edgy and cutesy. Assault-has-many-definitions plays Temur, which honestly is very unlike his style in real life. In reality, he's slow, methodical and patient- much more like the Sultai. But in Magic, he plays Temur- designed entirely on moving as fast as possible, and getting it over with as soon as they possibly can. It's a little idiosyncrasy I noticed long ago, and always found curious. No matter how well you know people, eh?
Anyway, I've gotten off topic from the task at hand. (So I got distracted by Magic, shoot me /s) and we see a familiar pair of blond boys walking towards a small black zippy-looking car parked near our hideout- now, I know what you're thinking. Why not just get a pair of binoculars and spy on them out the window of Blackthorn Manor? But no, that won't do at all, for three main reasons.
Number One: It's inefficient. As soon as they do anything interesting you gotta race downstairs to the car. Much faster if you're already sitting in it.
Number Two: These are professionals. They would be prepared for that, I'd bet my Demonic Tutor on it. (The pride and joy of my Magic collection. Cost me sixty dollars, you know!)
Number Three: It's boring, stakeout is way more fun.
So as you can see from my very professional and logical reasoning, you know why we are sitting in a limo just down the block from their car, playing Magic.
Not that a limo is very subtle, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. The two guys each carry a couple of armfuls of groceries and are talking happily.
"Gay" I whisper to Assault-has-many-definitions "Betcha"
"Nah, they don't seem the type" he says offhand, still focused on the game.
The boys put the groceries in the boot of the surprisingly convenient car, and the one with the green eyes, Claw, gets into the driver's seat. Before they drive off, though, they lean over the centre console for a quick kiss. Vindicated!
"Hey!" I whisper-yell to my teammate or opponent, depending on what you're paying most attention to. "Did you see that! I told you they were gay!"
"Okay yeah, fine, you're right" he says, rolling his eyes.
"They're driving off." I remind him, rolling my eyes back.
"Oh shit, yeah, my bad." he says, rushing to the front seat and clipping himself in. "Strap in, kiddo, I never learnt to drive a limo"
"You're literally three years younger than me." I grumble, doing as I'm told and putting my seatbelt on. It takes approximately three seconds before I begin to doubt whether he learnt to drive anything at all, given the truly horrendous driving I am a prisoner of.
We follow the boys for a few streets, quite likely being noticed in the process. A limo, shockingly, is not a great vehicle for when tailing some professional assassins. In fact, I would go so far as to say it's one of the worst possible choices that Assault-has-many-definitions could have made. If I were to pick something worse, I might pick a tractor, but given where we live I would honestly be less surprised by a tractor. Either way, the boys lead us to a neat little cottage that seems to be exactly what I would not be expecting from either of them. For starters, the words 'assassin' and 'green thumb' seem to be rather jarring when placed next to each other, but the window-boxes filled with hydrangeas tell a very different tale. Before we get there, though, the lights are on inside, and both Claw and Shard are still unloading groceries from the car. I guess either one of them rushed in to open the door and turn on the lights, which isn't implausible, or someone else lives here already. They're both already coupled up, so most likely no partner, and the assassins having kids, especially kids you would leave home alone, seems outright laughable. But my deduction is soon proven wrong by the sight of three people- two little kids, both little blond boys, giggling when Claw and Shard pick up one each to toss in the air, and another man, this one a redhead, coming to kiss them both and take some bags off their hands. The two little boys each grab a box of cereal in order to help carry, which is so adorable I involuntarily make a little 'aww' sound at the sight of. The cereal boxes are nearly as tall as they are, and they couldn't be more than three or four. (Right? I don't have a lot of experience with kids.)
I scribble the address down in my neat handwriting, which would be perfect if it weren't for the fact I were left-handed and smudge everything I write. It drives me nuts. But sadly it's a fact of my life that I have to put up with. 277 Ewenson Ave, Ellerslie, is now barely legible, but it's on the page in smudged green ink.
"I think we got what we came for" I say to Assault-has-many-definitions. "A location and some information. They all seem very loved up and happy. Surely we can convince them that staying out of the way is the best possible solution for all of us? I mean, there's no way they're getting paid enough to risk their lives fighting seven stone-cold killers? These are the kind of guys that are going after cheating husbands and accountants that skim a little off the top"
"I believe you are correct. They can be reasoned with, I'm most certain of that. Although I surmise we should warn them, after what happened to Kara"
"How do you mean?"
"Kara was murdered, we assume, almost immediately after making a deal with us to be left alone in exchange for a payoff. I don't know what you think, but I do not consider that just a coincidence."
"She's an assassin-" I say weakly, no real belief behind my words "Surely she has lots of enemies. Maybe one finally caught up?"
"And maybe I'm the Queen of England" he answers with crushing amounts of sarcasm.
"Either way. We need to go home. I haven't eaten for far too long, and I also probably need to sleep soon. I think that headache is coming back."
"I'll drive us back now" he says in a hushed tone.
"Thanks" I reply, giving a wan smile. I go to sit back down, closing my eyes- and soon, I'm asleep again. Some murderer I am- I keep falling asleep on the job! But I'm back in my bed, and there's a post-it note attached to my face.
'We've gone to get lunch at a cafe,'' it reads.
'Lolita has been fed, and there's a brioche and a cup of coffee in the microwave for you. See you soon!'
I smile down at the note, hopping to my feet and padding quietly down the dusty carpeted stairs, little puffs of grey appearing with every step. I head to the tiled kitchen, grabbing the treats waiting for me, and sit in the lounge, staring at the morning sunlight floating into the room, beams of gold filled with little flecks of dust. It's a pretty sight, and I sigh happily. If only every morning could be like this.
All is peaceful for an hour or so, gloriously peaceful. After I've finished my breakfast, I go get dressed. Nothing special, an old shirt I got from Dangerfield, with a pattern of jellyfish on it, and black skinny jeans. After I'm dressed, I'm nearly ready to go out- I want to follow Claw and Shard's other paramour today. I feel kind of guilty, as this redhead is innocent and clearly not a bad dude, but the devil does as the devil must. Pack a satchel with some snacks for when I inevitably get peckish, grab my phone off the charger, clear my pings on discord, brush my teeth and I'm ready. I step out the door into the warm sunlight, sighing happily. It really is the best weather when it's like this- hot, but not humid, and not too hot.
But, of course, no car, yet again. I sigh again, this time grumpily, and start the walk to the bus stop down the road.
I hop on the bus, thanking the driver, and twenty minutes and one very important stop to get some flowers later, I'm at the house that I saw Claw and Shard go into, standing at the beginning of the path to the front door. Without a car, tailing him anywhere would be difficult to say the least. So it's time for plan B: befriend. I walk to the door, knocking gently, tulips in hand.
The door opens to the picture of the whole family- Claw, Shard, the redhead and two little boys. The redhead seems to not be dressed yet, and wears some fuzzy slippers that look sooooo comfy- maybe I should ask where he got them? Anyway, once Claw and Shard realise who I am, Claw has me pinned to the wall with a knife at my throat- and the rest of the family, even the children, are all holding knives that appeared from who knows where. I smile weakly and hold out the flowers to the redhead, trying to appear as unthreatening as I can manage, which isn't hard for me. I'm slim and short, and my curly brown hair is not exactly scary, more the kind of thing you would want to fluff up and ruffle as you walk past.
"You have a lovely home" I say to the redhead, the shortest of the three men. Something tells me he is the one I should be speaking to. While the other two are scarier, I get the feeling that when at home, he's the boss. "I'm Gabriel Armstrong. I would shake your hand, but-"
"Babe, let him go." He says to Claw, never taking his eyes off of me. "Would you care for some tea, coffee, juice?"
"Juice please, if you wouldn't mind." I answer, about to follow him down the hall to where I presume the kitchen is, before I notice the pile of shoes sitting by the door, so I slip off my sneakers before padding after him.
After sitting at the table, a glass of juice sitting in front of me, the redhead finally introduces himself.
"Oh gosh, I never gave you my name, did I? I'm Ash, and these cuties" he beams, gesturing to his kids "are Ranger and Noir."
"It's nice to meet you all" I reply, smiling brightly. "I'm not here to do you any harm, I swear. I don't think I could before one of you…" I trail off, not really wanting to say the word 'disembowelled' in front of such impressionable younglings.
"Correct. So then why are you here?" says Shard, leaning against the wall of the kitchen, murderous stare somewhat put off by the 'World's best Dad' mug he's holding, filled with hot cocoa.
"I just came to talk, is all. I don't really want me or my team to get hurt, but I also don't want any of you to get hurt either. Is there any way I could convince you to drop this bounty and move on to, shall we say easier pickings?"
"I suppose." Shard replies, sipping his cocoa, and doesn't elaborate.
"Sorry about that, Shard isn't much of a morning person" Ash says, kissing his cheek, love in his eyes. "I'm sure we could figure something out."
"One thing to add. The last assassin sent after us, presumably sent by the same person, was murdered around three hours after agreeing to leave us alone. Now, it could be a coincidence, but that just seems too unlikely, don't you think?"
All three men nod, musing over this new information. Ranger and Noir nod as well, copying their dads, which is just so cute.
"We will keep that in mind, Gabriel. Thank you." Ash says, nodding solemnly. "Will you stay a while? I believe we still have some banana bread in the cupboard, and me and the kids were going to bake a lemon cake today if you could wait that long?"
"Thank you for the offer, and it does sound lovely, but my team should be expecting me back some time very soon. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ash, Ranger and Noir, and it was lovely to see you again, Claw and Shard. Hopefully we can resolve this situation without conflict. I bid you adieu" I say, standing and heading to the door, slipping my sneakers on. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, I get the bus back to my ancestral home.
I walk up to the door, still marked with the claw and snowflake, unlocking it and stepping in. I can tell as soon as I step inside the door that It's Nothing Personal… is home. Between the thumping of their feet landing on the floor and the thumping of the beat from whatever they're listening to, you can hardly hear anything else. I walk up the stairs, little drifts of dust falling on my head as I do- apparently their training room is somewhere near the stairs. Following the siren song of 'Soldier, Poet, King' by the Oh Hellos, I find a makeshift training room. It's very well constructed, all things considered, with several human-sized training dummies across the room. They seem to be on tracks, drilled into the floor, and when they get hit they move along these tracks, not unlike how a person would collapse after being hit by the blows It's Nothing Personal… is doling out. They whirl across the room, punching and kicking, often hitting two targets at once. At one point I see them manage to hit four targets at once, one with each limb- of course, it left them wide open to any counterattack if these things fought back, but it was still an impressive display of physicality and I imagine it was very satisfying as well. It takes a good ten minutes before they notice me in the doorway, laser-focused on the 'battle' at hand. Once they do, they wave hello, turning the music down on their smart watch to a level that one could speak over, if they had the lungs of a bull elephant, which they do. I do not, however, so I gesture to the speaker, trying to convey asking them to turn it down more.
They do, and without a moment of hesitation they ask if I would like to spar with them.
"Sure" I say reluctantly. It is a pleasure to spar with them, and I do need the training, but I'll certainly come out of it with more than a few bumps and bruises to show for my efforts. They walk to the far wall, where a series of training weapons are hung. They get down the wooden axes I use for training, and swap their knuckledusters for boxing gloves. They hold up three fingers, a silent countdown for the real fight to begin.
Three… I balance on my heels, ready to spring out of the way once they come at me.
Two… the music comes back on, a new song now.' Ophelia'by the Lumineers blasts at me from speakers on all sides of the room.
One… they roll their shoulders, tipping their neck from side to side.
Once they reach zero, they spring not at me, as I was expecting, but at one of the dummies near them. But of course, I soon realise why. The tracks this thing is on go right between my feet. I roll to the side, barely dodging it. I'm already put on the defence, especially given my axes are more for throwing than hand-to-hand combat. I roll again, continuing farther away from the silhouette of my training partner. But alas, this strategy cannot continue forever, as I'm now a short way away from the wall, and the wall is a fast way to a corner, and a corner is a guaranteed loss, as I have no room to manoeuvre my way away, and no room to swing or throw an axe. And that leaves me nothing, if fight and flight are both taken away. I'm quickly shocked out of my momentary distraction by another dummy hurtling at me at warp speed. Thankfully, it runs out of track just before it hits me, but it does make a hell of a noise, waking me from my stupor.
This stratagem, if you can even call it that, is never going to work. So I need a new plan, and I need it ten seconds ago. Maybe I can use my environment? But there's nothing to climb, the dummies are all too movable and unstable to climb, and the few non-dummy training objects are too far away to help me out. So what can I use? And then the obvious answer strikes. Use the room itself. I roll to my feet and sprint in the direction of the farthest wall, making as much noise as I can believably create. Just as I expected, It's Nothing Personal… follows me, catching up rather easily. I'm not exactly a world-class sprinter, and considering they work at a gym they get plenty more exercise than me. But I do have one trick up my sleeve- gymnastics skill. As I get closer to the wall, I don't slow down and neither do they. I run, leap, hit the wall feet-first and somersault over them, landing behind them on my feet, wincing at the ground shock but inwardly celebrating the success of that move. I quickly move my axes up to near their throat, clearly proving my victory. They raise their hands in surrender, taking off the boxing gloves and throwing them in the direction of the other training weapons. I walk that way, weaving through the false people and grabbing the gloves as I go. I place both my axes and the gloves back on the wall neatly, picking up my real axes at the same time. It may seem like I'm a bit of a neat freak, but this really isn't the case- it's just that if I'm cleaning, there's a much smaller chance I'll have to talk to someone. Not that I don't like talking to my friends- it just means that they speak first and set the tone of the conversation, and I have a better idea of what to say without offending them. Not that they would be offended! Ugh, I'm saying this all wrong. But anyway, I nod to them, the beat of the music still flooding the room too much to allow normal conversation. The song now is 'Achilles Come Down' which is so melancholy and mournful, but also kind of inspiring? The notes of music flow through the air, bringing with them wave upon wave of emotions. I wave a quick goodbye to It's Nothing Personal…, because there is not a snowball's chance in hell that I'm doing that again! I think I might have a bit of a bruise on my shin from the training axes, and my ankles are still aching from hitting the ground earlier. I should probably stay and say more before I get up and leave, but I just don't want to and I'm certain they won't mind. They're very hard to annoy or offend, it's a quality I greatly respect. Me, well I'm a petty person and quite happy to be. But still, their thick skin is admirable to me either way. It's a little past three, so I feel a bit peckish. All I've eaten today was a brioche, and I do need more than that. I slip down the stairs, tracking more dust everywhere. I really do need to get a vacuum in here as soon as I can, before it's too late and this whole place is just a pile of wreckage from all the people living here. In its heyday, this place could have easily housed three times as many people, but after decades allowing it to fall into disrepair it's all the place can do to not fall apart on us. Once in the cool kitchen, I grab a glass of water and a mandarin, and on second thought I grab a small bowl of trail mix as well. I snack happily at the table, scrolling through social media as I do. I hear the door open and close a couple times, and of course the thumping from the training room, but I ignore it. I'm just not feeling like dealing with people right now. But now I'm in the kitchen, I could start on a nice dinner? Except we have no groceries. To the supermarket, I suppose. It's a bit of a walk away, but I can manage it. I put a message on the server with an @everyone ping to alert my buddies that I left the house for food. I grab my wallet and keys and start the walk, planning my journey in my head as I do. It's nearly four now, and I'll assume it takes about 25 minutes, maybe half an hour each way for the walk, so let's say an hour altogether. Plus about half an hour at the supermarket gets me home somewhere near five thirty, and another hour and a half to cook means eating at seven… that seems kinda later though. Maybe I can shave off some time if I walk a bit faster and ask someone at home to preheat the oven for me. Which brings me to the next hurdle: what to make. I'm fond of Italian and since the chef decides the food I'm going to make cannelloni. Stepping up the pace to a near jog, I see the supermarket on the horizon, the glowing green sign a beacon of success on my great quest. For the last little bit of my journey, I sprint the small amount left to the great haven known as Countdown. I slip through the doors, snagging a basket as I go, which is full with the necessary ingredients, plus a can of Coke Zero for myself as a treat. I hurry to the self-checkouts, paying speedily and fill a couple of reusable bags with my purchases. I speed walk my way home, only just remembering to text someone else to turn on the oven as I'm nearly home- oh well, every minute counts. I throw on the first playlist I see on my Spotify account, assuming that I had heard and liked it before. I chop vegetables, sprinkle cheese and otherwise create the meal I had set out to do, with one minor ingredient missing: basil. My basil plant is at home, so I didn't think to buy any, but I'm not at home! Maybe in the gardens behind the house, scrubby and weedy as they are. While it bakes, I quickly take a look in the herb garden. Rats! Nothing but mint. I head back into the house, flicking the oven to grill for a moment to crisp up the cheese sprinkled on top. Finally done! I grab it out of the oven, hissing as my thumb bumps the hot glass for a second. I place the dish on the stovetop and run my fingers through cold water for a few minutes until it seems fine. I yell to the house as a whole
"Dinner! Get it while it's hot!" and hear the sound of running footsteps as an answer. As an added extra, because somebody surely missed my shout, I add a message to discord with an @everyone for good measure. Soon I see a group of my friends, all sitting at the table and looking in various stages of impatience. As a last-ditch effort to get the garnish I wanted, I ask if anyone has seen any basil around recently.
"Isn't there some in the garden?" >rectified< says.
"Nothing but mint" I reply
"No, I'm quite certain there was. Dark green, vaguely hairy texture?"
"That's mint!" I laugh. "Basil is a lighter green and is smooth, not furry!"
"That's ridiculous." They frown in response, but acquiesce.
My shoulders drop, sensing I won't get my wish for the tasty plant.
I serve seven settings at the table, although I suspect that it's an idle hope: both ItSnIcEwHeNtHeYsCrEaM and EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist are absent, quite conspicuously in the case of EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist, he's not one to miss a meal. Presumably he's out building or destroying something. Maybe both, who really knows. Those of us that are present dig in with mismatched cutlery, given this house has only a few pieces of heirloom silverware, and they are only fit for use in the absence of better options.
"Delicious" remarks It's Nothing Personal….
"I absolutely agree, superb" adds Assault-has-many-definitions. "I wonder if there's any way I could get a copy of the recipe?"
"Of course." I answer. "It's not like a jealously guarded family recipe or anything. We do have a few of those though…" I trail off. Given he's a very political person, and very active among the community of rich people in Auckland, I'm sure this is standard fare for him. He's an actor, which you would think would not be feasible in this country, but he makes it work. I suspect he moonlights as a pizza delivery driver or the like, to make ends meet. No proof, of course. He'd never allow anyone to see beyond the facade he presents. Another part of being an actor, I suppose. I wouldn't know, all I do is stay home and draw. Sometimes I work on my novel in my spare time, but mainly I'm an artist.
Assent is added by the others, remarking on how good it is. While I do agree it's nice, and quite filling, I doubt it's worthy of the praise being heaped on me. I'm happy to accept it though, and certainly not willing to argue against it.
After dinner I head to one of the old sitting rooms, flick on the lights,and light the candles in an ancient looking, but beautiful chandelier. I grab my set of Cards Against Humanity, and ask the others to play. They all agree, and we while away the rest of the evening quite happily like that.
I walk up to bed and some time during the wee hours I must fall asleep, because I wake up with more golden light trailing through my window and a cat sitting on my feet. This would be fine, if it were my cat. It is not my cat. I see the hairy grey lump at my feet and am slightly startled, but it's unlikely to hurt me. Upon checking it's collar, it's name is Church, and the phone number of its owner is the phone number of my deceased father. I guess the cat was his or something. I don't remember him ever having a cat, but the proof is in the pudding. Or a cat, I suppose. The proof in question is now licking its butt and staring at me the whole time. Elegant, Church. I nudge it off my bed with my foot, and it jumps off, with an expression of affront that is very eloquent for the face of a cat. I see it's fluffy little tail swish out the open window and it walks onto the window ledge. Not sure where it can go from there, but it had to have gotten into my room somehow. I suppose if it made it one way it can manage the other. I put on some socks and a shirt and pad down the stairs, making myself a bowl of cereal and sitting to eat it, crunching contently. An hour or so later, after brushing my teeth, shaving and the like, I'm almost ready to go out. I don't know what I'm going to do today, but I'm determined to kick some ass and take some names.
I strap on a black, heart shaped choker, add my many piercings, shimmy into some black skinny jeans and slip on an oversized, torn black shirt. One look in the mirror confirms that I have not at all succeeded in the look I was going for. It looks more like 'My Chemical Romance Wannabe' than 'Badass Grunge'. Try again. The black shirt comes off, replaced with a grey muscle shirt and a black leather jacket. Nope, too hot for a jacket, plus it makes me look like I'm trying too hard for the aesthetic. No jacket, and the choker isn't right either. Layers of necklaces, most of which feature some emblem of crosses, roses, skulls, dice, or some strange mixture of the above. Black spiked biker gloves and a little bit of eyeliner look perfect. Now that I'm prepared for the day ahead, let's see what I've got to do. There were three incidents the day of the ball, and we've now figured out who spray painted my door. I had a cursory look into Kara's 'death' and it seems like she really is dead. But that any member of my server could help with. Today I'll look into the body disappearing from the morgue. That's entirely my own problem, and as such it's personal. I've got a chip on my shoulder and some very sharp axes, so whoever made this problem for me to deal with had better look out.
One bus ride later, I'm standing outside the morgue, feeling extraordinarily confused. The body was reported to be missing, there was an article in the local newspaper and everything. But it's also been reported that it was returned to the morgue in exactly the same state it was thought to have left in. Sitting on a bench near the entrance, dead leaves all around my converse-clad feet, I'm feeling a little bit doubtful. Who would steal a body and then do nothing with it? Maybe some kind of retinal scan or touch identification. But if you were stealing the body, why wouldn't you just lop off whatever parts you wanted before returning it? A bit ghoulish, but it's a successful tactic. None of this makes any sense. First things first though, I want to see the body myself. I don't trust the bumbling buffoons in the police department to not completely ruin this, and I must see it before they get their paws on it. My brother is now the chief of police, and if he knew that I did this.. Well, he would do whatever he could to sink me legally. I'd be buried in hearings, entombed by red tape and interred by lawyers. So it's imperative that I not get caught on my little visit to the morgue. Which means the cover of night is what I need. But it's only- I check my watch- 11:21 am. I need to do something all day, I can hardly just sit on this bench until the sun goes down. So I scour news reports, looking for leads. Bingo! The body had been dumped (again) across town, in the middle of suburbia. An odd place to dump a body, because anywhere there's suburbs there's old people, and where there's old people there's busybodies. But hey, that just makes me think this person is either an amateur or an expert. And I'll begrudgingly admit, the cops around here aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer, but they could probably manage to track down an amateur. Well, doesn't that sound lovely. First get the bus into the middle of soccer mom city, then return and break into a creepy building full of dead people, on the trail of an expert kidnapper. Can you still call it a kidnapper if they're stealing a dead body? Strange. Maybe a thief? But thieves steal objects, and these are technically still people, albeit dead ones. A problem for a lawyer, not myself. Time to get the bus! I put my headphones on, head bopping to the beat. Approximately an hour later, across town, I'm at the spot where this other person dropped a dead body. A soccer field, dead center in the middle of it. Well, that's a dumbass decision. No buildings or foliage to hide what you were doing. So this was done deliberately, but why? The victim, known to most people as Johnathan Wayne, but known to his friends and enemies as the panther, the moniker appeared for his habit of sneaking up on people before slashing them with poisoned daggers. He wasn't a proponent of soccer, nor was he against it violently enough for someone to drop his body on a soccer pitch. He didn't live near here, so that's not it, and absolutely no living relatives other than a grandma in Christchurch. So why here? What's so special about this spot that someone would risk jail time for? I'm stumped. Sitting on the bleachers, I can kinda see why people would like this place. There's a place where two trees, which must have been damaged in a storm or something, cross together and merge, to form one giant letter X directly across from the bleachers. There's the usual foliage everywhere else, but just scrubby bush. Nothing bigger than a rabbit could successfully hide in that. But sitting in the center of the X is a small compass, with arrows pointing in all four cardinal directions. However, the arrow to the east is a zigzagging line rather than straight like the other three. Each arrow it painted a different colour; red, blue, yellow and green. One of the arrows might point to a new body, or a treasure hunt, maybe a clue. Who knows? But it seems like a riddle, and solving riddles is very very fun. So there's gotta be some way to solve the riddle. In fact, I think I've read about a similar puzzle before. The clue in the book was that 'You don't even need to see it to solve it.' I don't get it. You have to be able to see it to solve it, that's the point of the puzzle! To look at it until you find an answer. Maybe it has something to do with the directions. True north would make sense, or the X itself actually faces west. So maybe it means west. Or the colours matter? Green would imply some kind of environmental thing, right? Or red like blood. But also, isn't red a lucky colour in some cultures? So perhaps red, which is north. But what does that have to do with seeing it? And then it hits me like a brick to the skull. You would be able to feel the squiggly arrow as opposed to the three straight arrows carved into the wood of the tree. Trees? Tree. I'm not sure which it is. Who can tell, really. So eastwards I go.
I start trotting in that direction, begin a lolloping walk away from the setting sun, following the pointing of the zigzagged arrow. I walk that way, and everything seems usually unusual. I mean, there's things out of place but just in the normal ways. The road here is painted yellow, like the Wizard of Oz. Follow the yellow brick road, I guess. It is going east, so- I guess this is it.
Eastwards, nothing changes in the least. Still feels like the tenth layer of hell, still getting weird looks from judgemental soccer moms. But the bricks are yellow and the arrow said go this way, so what could go wrong?
I'm beginning to see a couple of nice restaurants, but still nothing noteworthy. Much more hipster vibe in this area of the city. It's very new and up and coming. Not exactly my style, but I don't hate it. My whole goth badass look is still raising eyebrows, but at least I'm not the only person being silently judged any longer. One person with fluorescent pink hair walks past on stilettos as tall as my hand, and I tip my hat to them as they do, because that look serves in every way possible and they deserve credit for it. Reminds me a lot of Juleka, an old friend of mine from high school or something. I'm not sure which, I attended a lot of schools and they all kind of blur together after so long away from them. Nothing particularly memorable happened in any of them.
But finally, after two and a half hours of walking along the yellow brick road, the road comes to a sudden stop, one that it is not supposed to. There appears to be a large brass statue, easily three times my height, dropped in the centre of the road. There's no signage up to explain it, and this leads me to the distinct impression that it isn't approved by the local council etc. Added with the yellow, squiggly arrow that directed me this way, I'm around seventy percent sure that this is what I should be paying attention to. The statue itself is of a dolphin, designed to appear to be leaping from the road. Maybe I should follow the direction the dolphin ks pointing to? That does make a lot of sense. That direction is a couple of storefronts, one a sushi place and the other a small Internet cafe. I suppose that could be the point, but so far the clues were quite brazen. I feel as if that isn't quite it. So what other reason could there be? Maybe there's some kind of writing on the dolphin, a written clue. I circle the dolphin, investigating its sleek sides. That was a dead end. Perhaps the dolphin itself is a clue. A dolphin, where would be associated with a dolphin? A dolphin leaping from the water. A leaping dolphin. I rack my brains but come up empty handed.
There has to be some reason for the symbolism. What does a dolphin represent? Maybe joy, happiness? The ocean? I don't know. After a good ten minutes of staring at a metal dolphin, I think I'm ready to give up.
And finally, the lightbulb moment arrives. The leaping from the road itself is meaningful- if it's leaping, it has to be leaping from somewhere! There must be some kind of hatch nearby, and you can use it to get underground! And underground there must be…
Well, I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.
I quickly scour the ground near the statue, and find exactly one thing that could possibly harbour a secret tunnel- a rubbish bin, on the footpath nearest the dolphin. I suppose that's the only reasonable option, but still, gross! I stroll leisurely over to it, trying not to appear suspicious, which is far more difficult than it sounds. Upon arrival at the pile of trash, which is embedded with some scent I can't name and don't want to think about any more than necessary, I believe I can see some dark recess beneath it, presumably being whatever I was looking for. I push gently against the metallic surface, and it swings around on the central pole it's mounted on, leaving a tunnel with a ladder, leading down farther than I can see in the dim light. I look around, seeing nobody looking directly at me, and quickly clamber into the shadowy depths. The bin swings back above me, blocking out a lot of the light and leaving me in a dingy area barely large enough to swing a cat in. Of course, I do not need to swing a cat in this area, merely walk through it. I walk towards the wall farthest from the ladder, assuming that a door would be placed there. I am proven right by the creaking of old hinges, as the door flicks open at the slightest touch to show another tunnel, leading farther into darkness. I haven't come this far to give up now, have I? Of course not. So I summon my courage, stand up straight, grip an axe in one hand and my phone in the other.
To my phone, I whisper "Hey Siri… Lumos" and just like magic it turns the flashlight on.
Equipped for the journey ahead, I can safely venture ahead. Now that I can sort of see what's ahead of me, I am not enthused by the vista I'm walking into. A grey corridor that leads farther than the torch on my phone can show, littered here and there with bits of rubbish and several rat corpses. Waiting isn't gonna make it any less gross, so I begin to walk along the passage, nimbly stepping over and around the piles of discarded rubbish and bodily viscera. After what feels like hours but is really only half an hour according to the clock on my phone screen, my phone runs out of battery. Which means I'm left stumbling in the dark down a grotty alley. Well, I can't give up now. It would surely take around as long to my destination as it would to turn back now, right?
Wrong. Dead wrong. My watch tells me it has been three hours more of the slow, careful footsteps I make so as to not step on anything I wouldn't wish to step in, and I am still no closer to finding the exit.
An hour after that, I think I've come to the conclusion of my journey- perhaps. I've reached a junction,it seems to have a skylight or something on the roof, so I can see clearly, with no less than fourteen separate tunnels splitting off it, counting my own.
Fourteen tunnels, all with solid concrete walls. It looks like originally there were grates, bars or something across the entrances, but whatever was there has long since rusted away.
With the grates gone, my path is unblocked, but I have no idea which tunnel to take. Any sense of direction I had is much worse now that I'm below ground. I only know which tunnel I went through because I'm still standing in the hallway, looking at the paths ahead.
I decide to take the tunnel directly across from me, as presumably it would take me to the place farthest from my start point, and then it might get me back to my car, if my internal compass is right.
Following the path, I continue along it, stepping up the pace- it really feels like I'm getting somewhere now!
Half an hour, a muesli bar and all my energy later, I think I've found the exit. An elevator, with only one button awaits me at the end of the path.
Unless I want to run all the way back along this tunnel and pick a new one or retake the original, this is my way out. And considering I definitely don't want to go back, I step into the lift and push the button, which is marked with three letters- T.T.M. The doors close and the lift heads upwards, seeming to kind of clank and jump, not a very modern instalment by my best interpretation. When it reaches its destination, the doors open with a ding and I'm crouched, axes in hand, just in case someone knows I am coming. However, it doesn't seem like anyone is here- or has been for a long time. There's dust everywhere and spiderwebs in all the corners. I'm in a large room, with double doors to the left of me and construction debris covering the floor, and one giant unoccupied golden cage in the centre of the floor.
There's no dust on the floor of the cage, no spiderwebs between the bars- the thing is pristine, as if it were brand new, but there are indents in the floor showing it came here long ago.
I gingerly step over chunks of plaster and try the door of the cage- it swings open silently on oiled hinges, opening easier than I had expected it to. I almost step inside the cage, before common sense kicks in. This is literally how I would get killed if this were a horror movie, and my life is starting to bear far too much resemblance to film.
I creep across the floor, heading for the double doors and pause next to them, placing my ear against the door. I can't hear anything, which seems like a good sign, but these doors are huge and as such, probably thick, making it harder to hear through. It's safer to assume there are enemies on the other side than there aren't, so I grip my axes tightly, knuckles going white from the force. I'm a little bit scared, and it feels like I'm sweating so much the axes will fall out of my hands.
I shove the door open, ninja-rolling into the room and get to my feet, ready to send my axes flying into the skull of any threat. There's nothing there, not even a spider like in the room before. But there is a door with a glowing green sign above it, saying exit. I push through it quickly.
Never before have I been so glad to be outside. After so long in the dark, my eyes hurt slightly as they adjust to the light.
I'm back, looking directly over the park from before- what the hell? I'm on a balcony, looking over directly at the crossed trees. From here, the arrows can't be seen, but I know they're there.
There's a fire escape leading down to street level, and I carefully pick my way down. It's been raining, and the metal stairs are steep and slick. I place my hand on the railing, then pull it away at feeling the rough surface. It's rusting, and now my hand is marked orange from the thing. I remove my hand, make an 'ew' face at the muck and keep walking down the slippery stairs.
Once I reach the area near the ground, I can see that there's a locked fence keeping bad people out of this weird place the tunnel leads to. One problem: it's also keeping me in. I clamber up onto the railing, and leap for the chain-link fence, grabbing it and climbing over the top, dropping to the ground on the other side, wincing at the groundshock. I stumble the first few steps, before I break into a dead sprint, gasping and clutching my ribs when I finally arrive at my car. I hop in and turn the key, but nothing happens. I catch sight of myself in the wing mirror, frowning at my reflection. I brush the dust and dead spiders out of my hair, before returning to the car. Turning the key again has no effect, so I walk around and pop the hood, only to find… my transmission has been cut, and the car ain't starting for a very good reason. Which is super duper suspicious- if you were going to sabotage a car, wouldn't you do it in a less obvious, more lethal way? Oh. Shit. I leg it away from the car, sprinting as fast as I can away from it. I don't get very far before the whole thing goes up in flames, the explosion knocking me to the ground. Glass flies in all directions, with one shard about the size of my pinky embedded in my lower calf, blood leaking into the black denim. Fuck- I liked these jeans. My face hits the pavement, smacking my cheek. Ow- that really bloody hurt. I think it's bleeding- I can feel it trickling down my face. My head hurts, and I raise my hand to it, vision unfocused. I see something walking towards me- it has horns, and it's eyes glow red beneath a deep hood.. What is this creature? I can't see so well… clothed all in black, horns like the devil and red eyes. I think I'm dying and this thing has been sent to drag me to hell. But if that's true, why is it running away? It doesn't make sense. I get up and stagger a couple paces, before I trip over a smoking piece of my car and fall flat on my face again, my head cracking against the pavement painfully. My vision blurs, and darkness creeps into the edges of my sight. In the last few seconds before I fall unconscious, I see the devil creature turn a corner and disappear from view.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone