Chapter 82: 74. Team Noir: Sleuth Work

Jay did his darndest to make Steele #2 nervous, and that felt good to the [Freak]. It didn’t take much for Jay to unnerve a person nowadays.

With his improved spatial-g awareness, Jay could rely on his eyes less if he didn’t need to read anything or tell apart colors. He knew where to go and how to step through the flood. He could stare at the new CWG tagalong and wade through the water just fine.

He even provided Emily aid while staring Steele #2 down. Tim yanked Cutie aside each time she nearly stepped into a trip hazard or worse.

To be fair, the Champions were forcing the Systemless to march at a quick clip–even the [Medium] struggled. Emily’s low 240 Stamina Status (12 Strength, 12 Agility) couldn’t naturally keep up with Tim and Jay. She relied on her Conviction to push her onward. Getting some help from Jay’s gravity eased things up for her.

Their destination wasn’t too far, so Tim made them hustle a little.

Steel #2 proved tough enough and experienced. He took every step carefully when he wasn’t directly behind Tim. Wherever the magical teenagers stepped, Steel #2 tried to follow in their wake, even if he had to run and splash through the water. He didn’t complain. He was resolute, his emotional-g a solid and dense sphere that was too contained for Jay to read unless the [Freak] made Steele #2 nervous with his stares.

They stopped in front of the seamstress’s home. A range of reactions spread across the party. Steele #2’s reaction was the most notable–annoyance. Emily had briefed him on the same stuff Cutie explained. He had an idea of what they were facing.

For this occasion, Jay looked away from the CWG black ops and used his eyes more. Beyond a porch a foot above ground level, the front entrance had been breached. The ground here had a slight rise to it. But not by much. The water reached above the raised floor–only inches of flooding getting in. But Jay imagined that would hurt forensics and wash out foot tracks.

“It’s cleared on my end,” Jay said.

“My friends can’t find anything immaterial that counts as a monster or our victim,” Emily said with a frown. “The spirit of the deceased fled from this place.”

“Neighbors?” Tim asked, nodding toward the trailer on the left and the amalgamation of shacks to the right.

Tim could hear past the walls just fine, but Jay figured Tim was reconfirming just in case. The guy was thorough.

“I told them to stay in case we need to talk more,” Cutie said.

Jay, Emily, and Tim shook their heads in unison. Nobody was home on the right or left. Same for the shack across the road. And the trailer behind the victim’s home. The nearest people–their best witnesses–had fled. And a few others beyond that, too.

Jay didn’t blame them.

“Mm, can’t make this too easy for us,” Kleo said sagely, still on top of her master’s head. “The System’s wise to our powers. We’re the Champions' seekers.”

Jay’s 33 Intellect perked up from hearing that. The Attribute speedily sifted through their collective profiles, crossed examined their powers, and arrived at the same conclusion Kleo naturally sensed as a [Faerie].

Jay, Tim, Emily, and Kleo were the best scouts among the Champions.

“I’ll need a spirit,” Emily said, adjusting her glasses. “I don’t have the right corpse incantation for the body in there.”

“My 4D headspace isn’t providing, and my meta-g is letting me struggle like a rookie detective, wet behind the ears,” Jay said. “What about you, Kleo?”

“Nothing big now,” she admitted. “You guys need to clear this part of the narrative first.”

Tim nodded along, listening to his fellow Champions' input. He glanced up at the weather and squinted into the rain. That was answer enough for how difficult it would be for his [Dog Boon] to track something. It might still work if they found a solid magical scent and could push the magic-seeking-magic angle.

“Is this where I step in with old fashion detective work?” Steel #2 asked, his voice a casual, Midwestern drawl.

“I rather you sit in the corner and just record us,” Jay grumbled, barely holding his graven voice back.

Kleo smacked her little fist on Jay’s forehead. “Master, he is not that man. Just like I’m not the toys you’ve killed.”

Jay snapped his head aside, shocked. A dim sheen of purple magic encapsulated Jay as Kleo floated into the air instead of getting thrown off.

“We have to focus, Master,” she said before Jay argued. “People are dying.” And a hero of comedy puts the people first before his own grudges, she left unsaid.

Jay felt through his [Faerie Master] Talent how she would stab that into him a little. She’d wanted to punish Commander Steele badly, and Jay denied her. Now Jay had to live up to his principles–especially under Kleo’s faithful but spiteful watch.

Jay nodded. He glanced at the CWG agent who remained silent as the [Freak] and his [Faerie] worked out their personal issue aloud. They could’ve spoken so quietly that Tim might’ve missed it, but Kleo made it public on purpose, adding more weight to her words.

“Malcolm Campbell, right?” Jay asked. “I heard it through the radio.”

The CWG agent nodded.

“You remind me of a man I beheaded last Sunday,” Jay admitted. “I’ll try to keep that out of the job. Please lead the way, Malcolm.”

There was no more to it than that. Jay’s [Slayer of Assassins] Title got nothing on the CWG rep. And people were dying. No time to be an ass.

Malcolm strode up the porch without another word. He paused at the doorway, his uncertainty flaring noticeably for Jay’s emotional-g to pick up. Malcolm found his resolution soon enough and took point. The high-beam flashlight attached to his rifle speared through the dark interior.

Team Noir filed in after him and took a look around.

The seamstress had lived like a Junker. She’d taken from the junkyard–lots of Super Bowl shirts from the losing teams were stacked in the corner–and remade stuff to sell and provide herself a decent living. Such as stripping old clothes to restitch them into something new. She had racks of the stuff in her living room, in the closet of her kitchen, and against every wall in her bedroom.

She actually had a decent looking if simple home with concrete walls and working amenities. Since city ordnance was a laughable suggestion in Junkside, everything the seamstress had was built for self-reliance, too. If she had raised the foundations half a foot more, she’d be golden among the junkers.

The gas stove was left on. Tim quickly shut it off. The rain and opened door had washed out most of the gas, so Malcolm looked in surprise when Tim had skipped over the corpse in the kitchen to handle the gas stove first.

Malcolm’s Systemless Perception had missed it.

Emily caught him up to speed–running gas at a crime scene was not good.

A no-brainer even for Jay’s rookie detective role.

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“Okay,” Malcolm drawled. “We got some luck. We don’t have to move the body. Ain’t underwater. Rigor mortis and bloating are fairly bad, but I can work around that.”

“Please do,” Emily encouraged. “This line of work is an interest of mine. I’ll be learning from you.”

Malcolm straightened a little taller, taking Emily’s attention more seriously than he already had. Jay imagined a role model complex in the old man.

“The attacker caught her when she was just about to whip herself something to eat.” Malcolm pointed his flashlight at the opened cabinet, the food on the counter next to the stove, and the gas dial Tim had switched off. Then he pointed his light at the floating door. “Extremely silent job. Hacked the hinges quietly. Caught her unaware.”

“This is worse than the lemon seller and welder,” Cutie muttered, staring at the corpse’s inner belly lining through its back.

Jay held down his own horror to look aloof and unbothered like Tim and Emily. But the sight was stomach churning. The spine was gone, but the ribs remained broken afterthoughts. Guts. Organs. Most of that had been scooped out. What was left looked more like a half-done and bloody suit you were supposed to step into.

“Oh, yeah, this isn’t a person’s work,” Malcolm said, dropping into a crouch. “Too many close-together gouges running the same way. Like claws. The way the flesh around the wound is uneven and ridgy is strange. Can’t pin it as teeth. Not any I could recognize right off the bat, and I’ve seen the work of coyotes and mountain lions.” Malcolm shifted to the side. “The limbs are curious. Got the same pattern. Ridgy like. But then the back of the skull is different.”

Malcolm paused.

“Bashed in. Like a hammer had done it. Then everything inside got scooped out quickly. See here. Bits of brain matter and whatnot in the hair. And the edges around the head wound got claw-like cuts. Maybe it used the claws for scooping up. But not meant for it. Which might mean the mouth isn’t meant for bone-crunching. Likes it soft.”

Emily circled around, her military-like boots kicking up a little water. When she peered over Malcolm’s shoulder, her frosty breath clouded around his neck and gave the man chills. But to his credit, he held his composure. Maybe he had a thing of looking tough in front of a gaggle of teens and their [Faerie], Jay observed.

“The skull wound is different like you said. Forceful. The killing blow. But it was not the first strike.” Emily’s aura stirred more actively. Malcolm couldn’t keep from shivering from the coldness and whispering ghosts. Emily kept on. “The flesh gives echoes of the death. Not of the perpetrator but of the victim’s suffering. She was silenced. Forced down. The perpetrator tortured her before ending it with this head wound.”

“Fuck,” Cutie said, striding out of the kitchen and into the living room. For an out-of-character moment, the emotional-g for Tim flared with concern for Cutie. Jay tried not to look at Tim as the twin waffled between staying in the kitchen or seeing after Cutie's wellbeing.

He waited too long. Cutie returned, hardened back into a gangster leader and protector of this turf.

“I’m gonna boot the faces off of the people I told to stay,” she muttered. “What now?”

“Tim?” Jay asked.

The twin nodded. He had been standing in wait as Malcolm and Emily did their thing. He probably wanted more information for [Dog Boon] before he nosed his way around–which was an incredibly literal thing.

Tim circled the kitchen, sniffing and huffing, only to stop when something caught his attention. Jay’s spatial-g focused on easily dismissable claw marks under the water’s surface. Decent tracks. Definitely something monster related.

Tim knelt, rubbing his hand over the claw marks under the water. He went back to loping around like a humanoid dog. He stopped at the corpse and fell into a crouch next to Malcolm–the CWG agent had moved on to recording with another camera. He was sending stuff back to a forensics team hiding out somewhere.

The CWG agency was taking a wait-and-see stance for this occasion. Jay imagined them amassing resources and manpower while putting Malcolm forward, tactically risking one man.

Malcolm was brave as hell, Jay admitted to himself.

Kleo orbited into the side of Jay’s head. The two shared a look, and Jay could tell she wanted him to follow. They moved to the downed door as Kleo lowered and examined the hacked hinges.

“Magic,” she said. “Cleverly used. Speaks of Intellect. Moving silently enough to ambush the seamstress. Speaks of Perception.”

“Conclusion?” Jay asked.

“I’m not sure yet. It’s not leaving much of a trail, so I need more magic trails to understand it,” Kleo explained. “Could be Rank 2, maybe.”

Emily jolted, nearly knocking Malcolm off balance.

Tim tensed ever so slightly.

Jay imagined the only Rank 2 monsters Emily and Tim fought were boss-level. In Jay’s experience, the Haunting Siren had been a high Rank 2, but she wasn’t a boss monster. She was extremely tough, strong, and determined. If that was an example of a normal Rank 2 monster, then the challenge ahead was upping the ante compared to what they’d fought so far.

“I need another body,” Tim requested. “Got a smell. But something fresher would help more.”

“Whatever horrid apocalyptic mess this is, seeing more of the same will give us a better ID of the… er… monster,” Malcolm offered.

“What are you outside of CWG, Malcolm?” Emily asked as the party prepared to exit.

“Fish and Wildlife Services,” he answered seriously.

“You’re joking,” Cutie said.

“No joke. Done the job long enough to know a whole bunch of nothing about other people’s jobs. FBI, CIA, HomeSec, the kitchen sink,” Malcolm explained. “You’d be surprised how deep the racket goes with animals. The same folks poaching and shipping illegal animals can have multifaceted portfolios. Drugs. Human trafficking. All the usual evils.”

“But that’s people,” Emily said.

 “Ever had jackholes sick their pet tigers at you?” Malcolm asked. “I had that happened three times now from busting midwest cocaine kings with illegal animals. It was my FBI buddy I saved from getting mauled by a tiger who got me here.”

“A tiger happened six times. Maybe more,” Emily replied. “Those were mean rubbish monsters. The five dozen or so others were panthers or other big cats. Also made of rubbish. They made it hard for me since those things had low spiritual latencies. I had to... get creative to heal my team.”

Malcolm opened and closed his mouth.

Cutie looked around like she couldn’t believe she was here with these people.

Jay snorted, shaking his head. Seeing another Champion roll out the art of stumping people with the bizarre was nice. But it was time to move on, and nobody better than hawkeyed Tim kept a bead on staying focused.

“Malcolm’s qualified. Cool.” Tim turned to Cutie. “Lead us to the next.”

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