Chapter 2: Chapter 1

The stench was horrid, though one might argue that it wasn’t any worse than what the Drowned District usually smelled like. Alongside the screeching of industry surrounding them, the car sirens were deafening, the oppressive silence of death somehow even worse. So early in the morning, the sun had already crested over the horizon, its light washing over Ebonpoint like a beacon, such a sight blinded by the gray smog blanketing the sky, smokestacks trailing in the distance.

All of this was familiar to Colin Black, less so the shredded remains of the victim’s body sloughing off the bright-yellow rubber held between the detective’s fingers. Crouched so close to the mess, his gas mask was the only apparatus halting his overpowering urge to vomit. “Hell of a way to go.”

“Always is.” Colin’s partner and sentient wall of meat, Kevin Pugh poked the slaughtered remains with the toe of his boot, dislodging a cracked rib from the incomplete collection of bones piled within the crimson gore. “Just be glad you don’t know the bastard. Hopefully no one did; can’t imagine losing someone to this.”

Tossing the elastic scrap back into the butchery, Colin stood, bloodied water dripping from the fringes of his trench coat. Digging through his pocket, he produced a cheap pack of cigarettes and a silver-plated lighter, a crude depiction of a rose scratched into its surface. Lifting the gas mask from his face, Colin fought through the corrosive air long enough to light his cig. A tiny ember in the abyss of a city filled with death, flecks of light burning gold against Kevin’s brown skin, red-orange upon Colin’s pale fingers.

Taking a long drag before flicking the stick of nicotine into a puddle, Colin slipped his mask back on, the stale, filtered air a marginal improvement over the smell of industrialized smog. “So, what’s the verdict here? Insane murderer, half-breed with a grudge, or a full-on ghoul tired of eating slummers?”

Kevin sniggered, his sharp laugh disturbing a nest of rats behind a battered, metal trashcan. “Ain’t nobody care enough about this dredge to have a grudge. And few killers are insane enough to do this thorough of a job and then just leave. Leaving it out in the open without a calling card or defining pattern to claim the deed? No, this is a ghoul, and not a half-breed either. Pure-blood, through-and-through; you can see that in how big the bite marks are.”

Colin’s jaw tightened. Pure-blood, though not a completely accurate term for the mutants, meant well enough to him. The appearance of one up top was a signal of many sleepless nights ahead of him. “The Chief isn’t going to be happy about this.”

“Bah, that old sack of lard is never happy! Could clear every criminal and mutant from Ebonpoint and he’d totter on about rats in the walls stealing his dreams.” Throwing his hands into the air, Kevin turned, making his way back towards their motorized buggy. “Come on then, best call this in. See what the Chief wants to do about this mess.”

Standing over the mutilated corpse for a moment longer, Colin shook his head, doing his best to rid the image from his mind. Then he turned, spotting Kevin dialing the radio phone attached to their buggy, a brass-and-iron shell for the steam-powered engine within.

Kevin turns toward Colin, eyes rolling behind his gas mask as their chief’s high-pitched voice blubbered through the phone’s speakers. “Yes, Chief, understood. We’ll make our way down there and see what we can find. Detective Pugh out.” Clicking the phone off, the Chief’s voice only rising in pitch before cutting off, Kevin shrugs at Colin’s questioning stare. “Looks like we’re following the trail, all the way down to the slums. No mention of trying to identify the body.”

Scratching his neck, Colin fights back the urge to light another cig. “Let’s just get this over with. Tonight, preferably. There’s a new episode of Damnable Dames playing tomorrow tonight, and I don’t want to miss it.” He digs into his coat’s pocket for the buggy’s keys, his partner snorting as he walks to the vehicle’s passenger side.

“Those radio dramas will rot your brain, you know. If you want some stories of dames, you should come over to my place; Sally can entertain you plenty, and she makes a mean brisket too.”

A grin crossed Colin’s face, the buggy’s doors opening smooth as the two detectives slid into the cramped seats. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Last time I was over there, Sally tried to set me up with one of her coworkers.” Their shoulders smooshed together as the doors closed, the two finally able to strip off their gas masks, faces covered in sweat. “Besides, Damnable Dames has Audrey Finch, and as good as your wife’s brisket is, it can’t beat a super star like her.” With a wagging finger, Colin started the buggy, its engine rumbling beneath the hood, steam exiting from exhaust pipes on either side of the vehicle.

Clicking his tongue, Kevin shifted around, trying to free up space between the two thirty-year old men as the buggy began cruising down the road. “Just don’t go saying that to Sally, or she’ll smack you with a spatula. She hates Finch. Says she ruined her favourite book with her portrayal in some other performance.”

“Ah, yes, Lady of Roses. Not her best work, admittedly, but it was her first gig as an actress, so I think she should be given some slack there.” Turning on the front lamp, the road’s view constricted by smog, Colin risked a sidelong glance at his partner. “Rumors say that she’s in talks for a big part in the next moving picture, though whether she’ll be on screen or just doing voice work for it is up in the air.”

Sighing, Kevin’s shoulders drooped, staring with blank eyes at his partner. “Colin, you are too damn interested in this.”

* * *

Entering the slums is never a simple task, the irradiated pit’s steep walls running three kilometers down from the surface, the slated rock coated in condensation from the overworked factories. The giant, iron lift stood as the only entrance, designed to bring up trucks loaded with storage crates. The trucks always entered empty, the crates full by the time they came back up.

Guards armed with both saber and rifle patrol the complex, engineers frantically running to keep the lifts in order. The concrete walls, acting as housing for the employees and storage for delivery trucks, moved slow.

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Colin tip-tapped his fingers along the buggy’s steering wheel, huffing in his gas mask. “I can’t believe this! Fifteen minutes, just to let us through a flimsy gate.”

“Calm down. You know this procedure always takes a while,” Kevin said, face similarly hidden behind the thick rubber of his mask. “They have to call up the station for identity confirmation, prepare the lift for transport, and sometimes the thing is already at the bottom of the pit, and then you have to wait for that.”

Throwing his arms into the air, smacking the roof of the buggy, Colin groaned. “You know what’s actually ridiculous?” He asked rhetorically. “The Chief told us to come down here, but didn’t even bother to call ahead. Why do we even have to wait? We should be able to flash our badges and cruise right on through, but no. Have to wait for bureaucracy to catch up.”

Picking at his fingernails, Kevin grunted.

Before Colin could continue his ranting, a solid tap-tapping against the buggy’s window stopped him. Turning to see a guard standing outside, he rolled the window down, toxic smog wafting through the opening. With the smog came a small stack of papers within the guard’s hand, tightly clipped together. “You’re all clear, detectives. The lift is up and ready to take you down, just head on through the gate.”

Steadying his breath, Colin took the papers, not bothering to smile. “Thank you. Before we head on down, you hear of any strange happenings?”

Through the fogging lenses, the guard’s eyes lazed to the side, “Not that I can think of, detective. Things have been quiet, for the most part, aside from another serial killer on the loose down below. But that’s to be expected, really. Anything else you need?”

“No, that’ll be all. You enjoy your day, soldier.” A curt nod, and the guard walked off, back to his station. With a sigh of relief, Colin rolled the buggy’s window back up, letting the vehicle’s filter dispel the smog before wiping his mask’s lenses with his sleeve. “Why they don’t have the checkpoint inside, away from the toxins, I will never understand.”

“They talk of serial killers as though they were nothing more than a nuisance, like finding a dead mouse in their kitchen,” Kevin started, shaking his head, arms crossed.

Driving through the open gate, Colin nodded. “Well, they’re not the ones who have to deal with it, so to them it’s probably less a nuisance than even that. Can’t imagine how bad it must be to work as an Enforcer, the poor bastards.” Smog too thick to see, Colin drove slow, threading the border of oil lamps illuminating the path ahead.

With a snort, Kevin continued. “I know, I know. But still, it irks me. The damn pit is almost right next to Ebonpoint, yet no one seems concerned about that. And it’s not like it’s impossible for people with the right knowhow to escape, Enforcers be damned. Hell, ghouls don’t seem to have any trouble just scaling the walls.”

“One ability I dearly wish they didn’t have. Would save us a lot of trouble if they just stayed in their pit.” The lift was open, the platform accepting the buggy’s weight without issue. Creaking iron still made Colin’s jaw clench. “Though I guess if we didn’t deal with them, they would just breed and fill up the slums. Now that would be a problem for everyone.”

With the buggy parked, the lift trembled to life. Gears turning against heavy chains, the platform descended, a slow crawl to the pit’s bottom. High above solid ground, the two detectives kept their tongues still, the ever-present fear of the lift failing keeping their lips tight. Minutes dragged on, their fear only intensifying as the buggy passed through the thick clouds of industry hanging between the slums and the open sky. But even this passed, and the grays and greens of the subterranean colony were revealed.

A loud thunk rung out as the lift hit the ground, and the detectives breathed a sigh of relief. Before they could fully relax, several people in leather boiler suits were waving, urging the buggy to depart.

With a wary smile, Colin drove off the grated platform. “And we’re down. Now for the dangerous part.”

“What, we gonna try the local cuisine?”

Loosing a short laugh, Colin wagged his finger at the larger detective. “Not that dangerous, no. First, we have to pay a visit to our dear cousins.”

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