Cornerstone
"He's got a name now, apparently," the ferret drones as he takes a drag from his cigarette. "The Architect. They say he wears a white coat and he never even touches the people he kills."
"Wait, you're not talking about that guy who's been slicing his victims to ribbons in the River District, are you?" The fox set down his coffee cup on a nearby trash can, the hollow noise resonating through the cardboard walls.
"The same," he said with a solemn tone. "All the witness reports have been lining up as of late; every time we find where the victim was last, the same guy was seen there later that day: Taller than average, white coat with a hood, and a muffler. That's all we know for sure." The ferret flicked the smoldering dregs of his black cigarette into the causeway after one last drag. "Too far and scattered for collusion, too close to be unbelievable."
"That's not possible, have you even been reading the coroner's reports? Those cuts aren't skin deep, or even into the muscle, they're all clean through," the fox shot back. "That wouldn't even make sense if they meant he doesn't touch them after he kills them! He'd have to reassemble them to leave them... standing like they've been. He'd be painted redder than Majestic Street."
The look of utter disgust was crystal clear on the fox's face, looking up from the gravel and scanning the horizon. They could both see it, even if they were inside the Crown Vic and not leaning on it's hood. The red brick alley, still cordoned off with a spider's web of yellow tape. It was getting harder and harder not to feel trapped in that web.
"Of course I've been reading them Jared, every last one of them if you could believe it. I'm not some squeamish little bitch who smokes cloves to look tough." Once again, the zippo came out, and a brand new trail of blue white smoke was trailing up from a red and black point in space, orbiting the edge of the ferret's scowl. "That's why I think our mystery coat is who we should be looking for."
"Humor me, then, which of those reports make you think our perp can magically butcher people while they just stand there for him? You wanna steal his coat and dye it yellow or something?" An idle kick sent more gravel spilling into the causeway. Out of sight, out of mind.
"You read the Lubowski report?"
"Everything pertinent anyway, I put it down about where the coot started waxing nostalgic over old buildings."
"If you didn't read the whole thing, then you don't know the whole story. He mentioned the bones somehow got restructured into a roman arch. That was what was keeping the body upright. Now, did you listen to the statements we collected from that Stop and Go employee?" The ferret pushed onward, shaking his head even as he spoke.
"I collected it Tracy, what the hell are you on about? Sure, she mentioned mister tall, white, and mysterious, but all he did there was bitch about some church in Spain he visited." Jared scowled over at his partner.
The ferret couldn't help but break out into a laughing fit, only settling down with a stiff punch to the shoulder
"My God Jared, you're incredible. You don't even bother to listen to the statements you collected. He supposedly talked about Segovia Cathedral, this huge gothic cathedral smack dab in the middle of the city. Want to know what else is in Segovia, Spain? That thing she kept mentioning the suspect being vague about?" Tracy pulled out his phone, swiping through his bookmarks as his partner's anger grew.
"What, the point? Am I going to have to go get us an all-day trip to Barcelona so you can find the fucking point?" His incensed fingers failed to find much of any grip on the clean sidings of the trash can they parked next to.
That all fell aside as he read the article the detective shoved into his face:
"TWO FOUND BRUTALLY SLAIN, NAILED TO HISTORIC AQUEDUCT."
(5/4/2013) Police in Segovia, Spain were forced to cordon off the Segovia Aqueducts, a UNESCO world heritage site, after two bodies described as "strangely lacerated" by witnesses were recovered from the uppermost arches of the monument by rescue crews early Friday morning. Local police have been requesting outside aid in the investigation, however INTERPOL has denied that there are any tangible links between other scattered but vaguely similar incidents. Segovian Police Chief Jorge Ramos openly mocked the denial, releasing a statement that accused the agency of ignoring a possible serial killer. In the statement, Ramos cited similarities to a body recovered from the Hagia Sophia in 2012. No official suspects have been named in either case, and it is unclear if INTERPOL will respond to the statement. (Via. El Diario)
The ferret shifted his weight as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I contacted Ramos about any evidence he might want to share and he had some bad news. When you're a tourist spot, you don't tend to remember much weird shit, but when you're in Spain, you notice a guy wearing a hooded sweeper. He hadn't picked up the muffler yet though."
"So you're saying we've got an ID? Accuracy doesn't matter, I'd settle for a fucking species at this point." Jared piqued an eyebrow, and his partner just took another long, dissatisfied drag.
"I mean, I guess we do in the strictest terms, but I don't think we can put out an APB for someone without a face. All the transcripts are back at the district station. Everyone said the hood cast a shadow in such a way that they couldn't see a muzzle, much less his eyes or fur."
"So, what's the point? Even if it's the same guy, that means our first murder came in as of two years ago and for some reason decided not to leave." The fox shrugged, staring the garbage can down as if he expected to extract an answer. "Did any of the witnesses try to claim he didn't have a face?"
"A few, but be real. The lack of something is hard to record as notable evidence; it's a losing battle from square one. 'No, really chief, we don't have a face yet because apparently he doesn't either.'" Tracy gave the best sarcastic jazzhands that he could muster. "That's why I said that's all we know for sure. Until we find a single tape of this guy, some proper surveillance or an objective witness, all we have to go on is some second hand evidence from some very scared people... and it seems like finding that is a whole issue unto itself."
The fox glanced back to the gas station. It was their fourth day in a row trying to find someone to talk to regarding the missing evidence. Loaded words were thrown around. Accessory to Murder. State if you're lucky. Nobody talked, regardless of how badly they wanted to catch the guy. The girl who they'd taken in for questioning quit on the spot the next day once she heard about the missing tapes. Tracy couldn't help but mirror the consternation in the fox's eyes with his tone.
"That's why we need to re-evaluate. We haven't gone public with this, outside of a small leak, and that's no reason for us to encounter the same pitfalls with every single bit of info we're trying to manage. DelArva can only keep the media blackout going for so long before we have to come forward with some concrete answers. This methodology, these same scenarios, it's like clockwork! A hundred stupid things falling into place one right after the other."
Jared saw real frustration in Tracy's glare. For all the insanity it sounded like he was spouting, he was miles deeper into the case than anyone else in the department. If anyone had warrant to make that kind of bizarre judgement, it was definitely him. He needed some kind of support, even if it was just to bring him back from the mental edge he was sitting on
"Would you want to catch him in the act, though? Some of these guys were armed and, while he doesn't damage their clothes, he's split a revolver clean down the center. Something tells me if a ballistic vest has problems with knives, it isn't going to do shit to protect you against whatever he does." The fox did his best to muster a chuckle, both furs once again casting their eyes to the ground. Even in their conversation, it was back to square one.
"Who knows. There hasn't been a single direct witness yet, no calls to 911 so we could catch this guy in what has to be a process, and it's starting to feel like we're chasing an urban legend. A moving blank spot in the age of information... the only reason I've been able to get a vague idea of where the hell this guy's been is because recordings just seem to be allergic to him. It's the same thing, every time!" The detective had shifted from annoyed venting to a full on rant. "Missing tapes! Erased video! I think I'm going to lose my shit if one more warrant comes up blank!"
The world decided to cut Tracy off. A red coupe flew across the bridge they were next to; sporty, sleek, and seeming so sure that nothing in the world was even going to try and slow it down. Jared almost immediately darted for the door of the patrol car, but the ferret grabbed his arm.
"Forget it. He'll be long gone by the time the engine turns over. Just leave it to the traffic cams or a chase car." The fox pulled briefly at the grip, but settled on skulking. He nodded his head at the ferret as they walked down the street towards the convenience store. "Besides, the dash cam probably caught the plate anyways."
"I wouldn't be betting on the traffic cameras if I were you. We've had several requests thrown back at us by the TA, so you can't count on any of their stuff to work. A ten million dollar grant to get their ducks in a row and they still feed us this line of bullshit about random outages..." The moment the lights rolled over, they were on pavement. "Two years and these idiots haven't figured out how to make their own equipment work."
Tracy almost stopped in the middle of the street, the fox turning around to look at him. "Where the hell does the transit authority keep it's recordings? If it's across an entire network, this can't just be some problem with the individual cameras, there's one at practically every corner of the river district."
"Every district has some central whatever in the maintenance tunnels. They've been sending someone down every week, more if they find out about an outage, but it looks just as spotless as ever. Come on, the light's changing." From the moment the fox dragged the ferret along, he couldn't get a word out of him the whole time they were inside.
It wasn't another interrogation, and it didn't need to turn into one. Sure, the manager looked like she was on edge the entire time, but at least in his head Jared chalked it up to just another mouse with a bad case of paranoia. Two cups of bitter coffee and a foot in the door later, and Tracy decided to finally pipe up. Without the slightest prompt, the ferret asked the strangest question the fox had heard in quite some time.
"Do you prefer the scent of cheap cologne or open sewer?" The ferret grabbed a small phial of off-brand scent from the bottom rack of the impulse buys, and a cleaning cloth along with it.
His first impulse was to question it. He wondered what the hell Tracy was on about, but in the time it took Jared's mouth to open, everything the ferret had been contemplating over the last few minutes clicked at once. The knowing look was the answer the detective had been looking for the whole time. "Buy your own cloth then."
There was just one final thing to take care of. Tracy had spent most of his life wading through the worst kind of scum the streets could cough up, even before he earned the badge now residing in his pocket. He knew money was a universal language, and he knew how a fur walked when he was carrying a gun, even if you couldn't see it.
He'd sent Jared off to go grab a map of the sewers, readying a small wad of cash in his right hand. Three hundred should be enough, he wagered. He approached the wolf he'd noticed earlier, glancing around to make sure they weren't watched. He picked up on it and soon they were face to face.
"You a good shot?" Deadpan was the best way to go. Inflate yourself too much, and someone might just try to pop you.
"Depends who's asking, Officer." Anyone looking clean-cut would be getting the same snark, even without the badge, and the telltale handle of a Unica flashed at him was all he needed to know. The ferret palmed him the money with a smile.
"The kind of cop who wants you to shoot a camera for him." The wolf looked over the money and nodded, a signal that all Tracy needed was to point at the target. Ten seconds, and one gunshot, later and the city now had to replace another traffic cam. The wolf had taken off down the alley before the officer even cared to look which way he was headed. Sure, Jared would be asking questions, but at this point he didn't care about answering truthfully.
It didn't take long to set up the traffic cones around the manhole so they could open it up, but every second felt like time wasted. The moment they'd both climbed down, Tracy started to adjust the earpiece he'd slipped in above ground.
"Whatever you do, don't call central. We're not here right now. Tune in to the Transit Authority's band and listen for them to report an outage somewhere in the River District that isn't 58th and boulevard." Both pulled their service weapons. Jared had the standard 9mm he'd trained with his whole time on the force. For Tracy however, there was a familiar allure to the .44 revolver detectives in the city used as a badge of office. It felt like coming home to find the place all cleaned up.
The pair navigated the dark, barely lit tunnels with weapons ready and a respiratory mask from their response kit with a little bit of genuine DL2 on a rag under it for good measure. Thankfully before the noises of the underground started to get to either of them they reached the door and the radio blared to life in Tracy's ear.
"This is McMullen to dispatch, the network's whiting out around Troy and Baltimore, could you send someone out there to check out if the cam's okay?"
The response was ultimately unheard as the door to the room came flying off it's hinges, both officers bursting into the room and scanning thoroughly throughout the pale web of light the bank of monitors cast through the cables and towers. Something had to be out of the ordinary... neither was ready for what was.
A mockery of form. What some cruel prankster thought all beings could be boiled down to. It had a smooth, sloped face and featureless muzzle without an opening to eat, breathe, or even see. It had a barely hominid structure; more like the spindly impression of one bound up in what seemed to be brass gears, polished porcelain, and luminescent silk. Its lower limbs tapered down to needlepoints, but its arms... so many, and each ended in gleaming, wicked blades. Several of them phased into the wires of the servers, like matter itself was no barrier.
Only through it's jittery, insectile reaction did the pair realize they'd caught it by surprise. In the space of a heartbeat it re-positioned, lunging towards them. The pair went from dumbstruck to afraid, realizing it was not only utterly alien, but absolutely hostile.
They did what their training told them. Namely, fill it with enough lead to replace the pipes in Rome.
The only casualty was Jared's service pistol, split clean in half up to the trigger guard, a steady drip of blood coming from an injured finger. It had fallen dead in front of them, and was dissolving into fragments. Tracy had the presence of mind to try and snap a photo, but it came out blurry, grainy, and pixelated. He had the visual, but it looked like a fake.
The scene was dead quiet after the echo of the firefight finished ringing through the sewers. Tracy staring at his phone and Jared at his gun. Both tried and failed over and over to evaluate what had just happened. That was, until, a new call broke through the static on the transit band and a white glow filled the room again.
"Hey, this is McMullen again. Everything in the river district cut out for a few seconds, but it looks like everything's back online save for that intersection by the bridge, looks like those repairs might've kicked in... wait, shot out? What the hell is..."
The ferret glanced over to the screens, and slammed the call button on his headset as he swooped into the chair. "This is Detective Tracy Galahad, what's the street tracking number on the intersection where the last camera was out."
"The dispatcher briefly fumbled. "Uh... MM16, Troy and Michigan, why officer? ... ah shit, it looks like it's out again."
The ferret madly traced his finger over the screen, before he found the proper lattice. "Is there a way to review recently recorded footage?"
"Yeah, but you'd have to be in the central server room. It takes ten minutes to get processed and go to archives. Otherwise, we could probably send a worker to pull footage if it's urgent, we'd just need a time-stamp," came the response from his earpiece.
"Alright, assuming I was there, where the hell is the rewind button?" Tracy was getting impatient, noticing another camera plink off. Michigan and Lamplight. The last camera before the docks.
A few seconds of dead air passed, but that was already long enough for the ferret to feel like he was ready to chew out the worker on the other end.
"I uhh... it's just a console command: Control A, then hit a number to rewind that many minutes... are you in the server room officer? The door sensor looks like it broke..."
Two minutes was all that was needed. Barely any time had passed, and the footage had the distinctive, grainy blur the camera had been capturing not moments earlier. Five different intersections, in a grid pattern on the screen, but totally random in relation to their location. Except, Tracy had realized, for one contiguous path. A huge string of outages followed, matching up with the time-stamp of the mangled photo on his phone. Then, Tracy looked up to see the brief vignette of Troy and Michigan captured by the camera. By this point, Jared had joined him.
Their breaths laid stagnant in their throats.
The camera had captured all of five seconds of footage, but it was enough to see something that they'd thought impossible. Even in gray-scale, it was simple to tell when someone was wearing all white. He towered over the cat he happened to be standing next to until seemingly, apropos of nothing, freezing. It was like he'd been struck by a realization, that he was being watched.. His hooded head turned towards the camera, and in the brief frame before it shorted out again, they both swore they saw some kind of scarf over the scant profile of a muzzle.
Suddenly, that same static sent little lattices of frost crystallizing through their veins.
"Holy shit Tracy... that's him. That's the guy they've all been talking about... that everyone's been describing... how is he real? Who the hell is he... what the fuck did we just kill... did he know? Was it his? I..." The adrenaline was wearing off for Jared, and every single question he should have been asking came crashing in at once. The rush of it all was starting to make the fox hyperventilate. The ferret simply put his hand on Jared's shoulder.
"Jared, we don't know all the answers yet, but we've answered the single biggest question. He's real, we have a suspect, and we're getting this to DelArva. Where it goes from here counts on how we handle this. Something tells me he realizes there's been a hiccup in whatever his plan is, and we need to capitalize on that."
The ferret moused through the menus on the screens, finding a way to export the footage and disconnecting one of the many hard drives the technicians had left behind. "I hope nobody misses this, because it's now prime evidence." Tracy practically ripped it off the table once the file had been fully copied and shoved it in his pocket, standing quickly enough that the chair spun behind him.
"We've got to hand deliver this to the station. Given that these things can apparently screw with electronics, I don't entirely trust this footage being there by the time we need it." The detective grabbed a speed loader out of his back pocket, replacing the spent casings in his revolver with a fresh batch of six bullets. "I'll still try and let it go through legitimately, just don't color me surprised when it doesn't turn up when we request it."
"Then why even bother? You've got a copy and you seem perfectly intent on making sure it gets there safe." It was generally a good idea that if your partner was reloading you should as well, but he realized that he didn't have a need to, given the current status of his own weapon. He absolutely prayed that a taser would hurt these things.
"To prove a point. If it's gone, then our claims have more impact behind them. Suddenly the glitched out photo on my phone looks less like I'm trying to practice my digital art skills and more like these things naturally mess with computers. Besides, he seemed to know that thing died."
Tracy led the way out of the sewer with his pistol up, moving the other loader he had to a hip pocket with his off hand. "He certainly knew where it was, so he very well knows where we are until we get out of here."
Suddenly, the random drips and sounds of the underground labyrinth of tunnels sounded a lot more menacing than they did before. Everything that echoed off the walls resonated through their heads as well. The shadows on the wall were stalking them, and every little metallic clink was an immediate threat they had to process before proceeding. It made the already long jaunt through the tunnels feel like a marathon race against death itself.
Jared was the first to hear it, feeling like you don't really have a weapon when a serial killer is after you is a definite way to get adrenaline pumping through your system. A series of soft metallic impacts, almost inaudible for how brief they were, but his flashlight turned to expose another monstrosity, closer than either felt comfortable with.
By the time he'd set eyes on it, Tracy was pulling the trigger. He didn't care about the differences between it and the last one, he just aimed for center mass. There was still a nagging doubt in his head that even that wouldn't end up putting it down. Three shots, all in immediate succession.
The first one hit it's mark, shattering a big hole into the construct's porcelain chest plate
The second merely glanced an arm. It dodged the bullet, slicing gracefully through the air along it's path and barely breaking stride.
The third bullet though, if it could dodge, Tracy knew he could feint. He aimed to lead it, but snapped back the moment he fired, pulverizing a good portion of it's "face."
It was still moving though and Tracy had to dodge the only swing it could apparently make. Jared came up from behind the thing and thrust his baton into the mass of gears in its exposed core. The thing dissipated, almost instantaneously.
"Nice one," Tracy spat out, almost burning a finger in his rush to replenish his revolver.
"Why do you think it swung low like that? It might have had a better chance hitting you if it was aiming somewhere else, the other one just lunged."
Tracy rolled his eyes as the pair ran forward. "I don't know, the other one had like fifteen more arms. Maybe it was just feeling saucy or something..." the detective sighed, rubbing the bridge of his muzzle and tapping his pocket. "Last time, we didn't have this. He always does his best to scrub evidence."
The pair double-timed their return to the entry point, but before Jarred could even grab the first rung of the latter, the detective pulled his hand back like he was about to grab a live wire.
"Wait. For all we know, another one of those things could be waiting somewhere up there, ready to kill us or God knows what else." Tracy looked like he was formulating a plan, but Jared was getting extremely jittery, it was starting to feel like the tunnels were closing in on him.
"So what are we going to do then? Wait until he sends another one of those things down here to kill us? It's a losing battle if we just stand still man, we have to make some kind of move or we're going to be the next two with our pelvises rearranged into the Arc de Triomphe or some shit."
Tracy opened his eyes from the moment of pondering he took. "You're right Jared. We can't call for help."
"And water is wet Trace, why the hell would you ment-" the fox's voice started to elevate, but the ferret shoved a hand in front of his muzzle.
"Because he has to know about the city frequencies. How do you think a twelve armed mannequin from Hell's department store managed to evade crews of maintenance workers combing one room? It knew when and how to hide. So, we have to play our hand like we don't know he's watching."
Tracy kicked his radio back over to the police band. "This is detective Tracy Galahad to dispatch, we have sensitive evidence pertaining to the River district murders, but our exit route is cut off by hostile parties and we need extraction from the maintenance tunnels. I've had to change my route from my original exit due to an encounter with an immediate threat, and need to make sure that I can exit safely. I'm currently heading for the Flood Tunnels, make sure there's someone there to secure my exit."
The radio cut to static for a few moments before a response came, but it wasn't anyone Tracy knew from dispatch.
"10-4 Detective Galahad, we'll have officers on the scene. Would you need any immediate backup?" The voice was smooth, almost melodic, with the gentlest note of a seductive vibrato that came through even the standard tone of a supposedly disinterested dispatcher. Even beyond that, the biggest hint that told Tracy something was up was what wasn't there at all.
The moment the voice started to respond, all static cut out, even the tiny bits his headset would normally add. Once again, the ferret busted out his phone. Hitting the voice recorder.
"Definitely, these guys seem intent on making sure I die down here. Get as many officers as you can spare on the scene, you might be able to get one alive for questioning, but they're rather heavily armed."
"Absolutely Detective. We'll try our best to get swat down there as soon as possible. Hold your current position until you're found." Tracy could almost hear the condescension dripping through his delivery.
"I'm currently under the intersection of Virginia and Clybourne according to my map." Tracy absolutely prayed that he'd buy it.
"Don't worry, someone will be down to help you as soon as possible." Jared's eyes shot open the moment a small measure of interference returned, pulling Tracy back into a small structural arch and waiting. Sure enough, the same metallic clicking from before could be heard moments later. The first major noise at the base of the ladder, then continuing, rushing down the tunnels. A few seconds after it had faded from earshot, they were climbing back up.
"Nice call on that one. Chances are we've got a much safer ride to central because of that little move you just pulled. Hell, if I'd been less attentive, you may have just saved my life." Tracy was the first to emerge onto the street. He started grabbing the traffic cones, much to the confusion of the road worker servicing the camera.
"You need to be more careful Tracy, we don't know just what kills these things yet and if we get sloppy, we won't be able to figure that out." Jared was still craning his head around, trying to see if their canard had been planned for, but his focus shifted to the car as the two approached it.
The fox checked under the car along with Tracy the moment they got there, the ferret pointing his partner into the driver's seat as he jumped to the passenger's side, flicking through his phones. "I shouldn't need to tell you, but no sirens." Even still, they sped the whole way there.
The Police Central Authority building in the heart of the King's district looked like an absolute fortress, but one with a grandiosity to match the rest of the local architecture. Officers were discouraged from taking the front steps whenever possible, but both Tracey and Jared knew that it was the most watched area in the city. Every single camera had another in its view. As long as they were on those stairs, there was no way they could be ambushed without their evidence to the existence of the Architect becoming unneeded.
The look in Tracy's eyes was one the younger German Shepard had learned already learned thoroughly from other detectives in his scant six months on the job. 'DelArva. Now. I know he's here. I don't care if he's available. I'm going to be at his office in five minutes, and he better be expecting me.'
The pair only had to turn down the hall in the proper direction, climb up the central staircase, and head straight for the frosted glass door, proudly announcing: Horatio S. DelArva
Chief of Police
Tracy was about ready to kick down the door, but he at least checked if it was open first, a rather disappointed looking panther looking behind his desk.
"Dammit Tracy, and you were the one that always knocked too. Well, Alton told me you looked like you were going to be in here come hell or high water." As the ferret and fox approached the chief, he only leaned forwards, looking at the pair. "Spit it out, I feel like you would've told us about any major developments in the case by now, so I assume you want to get reassigned."
Tracy smiled. "You can check the traffic database from your computer, right? I acted on a hunch and we found some shady business going on in the tunnels. Check the cameras at Troy and Michigan out. The serial number is MM16, time-stamp should be about 2:14 today."
The chief spent a bit of time on the keyboard, sighing and turning the screen towards Tracy. A bright red "Error: No footage found" stamp appeared over the static. The ferret pulled the hard drive from his pocket, causing a little bit of confusion.
"That's city property Gallahad, not even our department. What's it doing on you?" DelArva was interested, but rather reserved.
"Does something being city property bar it from being evidence Chief? It has the footage for that time-stamp. I wanted a backup in case the few seconds of footage we had got destroyed like all the other video evidence."
The panther's eyebrows bolted up. That was the one of the details he heard from every detective previously assigned to the case and it was definitely bothering him. How does one criminal manage to evade surveillance for over two years? The second it was plugged into the tower, the footage was already loaded and playing to a small audience.
It started out choppy like how Tracy remembered it being in the server room, the time stamps aligning, but something about the five seconds was different. There was a notable absence of anyone in white. The ferret looked like he was about to go utterly insane before pausing the footage on it's second loop, and realizing there was still something there. "Alright. Chief. I know this looks like nothing, but you need to re-watch it, and I'll point out a few things."
The panther rewound the footage, the ferret's hand almost magnetizing to the screen. "That cat. First she bumps into something, Then she's looking over at something that doesn't seem to be there. Right where that shadow on the ground is. Not to mention if you look over at the window, you can tell it's reflecting light. What's her reflection blocked by?
Another rewind, and even in the reflection, he was clear as day. The hood, the sweeper, even the muffler had a slightly better angle. Of course, no face was visible, but there was something important there and anyone could see it.
"When we got into the server room, we encountered something strange. It was vaguely hominid and very angry," the ferret pulled his phone out, the artifacted picture still clear as day. DelArva looked up for a moment and the detective was already back on his phone, readying an answer to what he knew he was about to be asked.
"Why didn't you call for backup? If you were in danger, even with Jared accompanying you, you need support." Tracy started to play the audio he'd captured, talking over himself. "Because this is what happened when I did."
The panther listened in stunned silence to the recording Tracy had taken. He opened his mouth a small number of times to try and speak, but the words all fell out silently. Only after some time in contemplation could he find his voice and the only thing he could think to say was the obvious.
"That's not anybody at dispatch. Even if I didn't know everyone's voice by ear, there's no way in hell I'd ever forget hearing someone who sounded like that coming over the radio. Hell, it sounded just about as clear as you! What the hell even happened down there?" The chief's hands were raised in the air, utterly bewildered. It all seemed like some elaborate prank was coming to fruition
"Not to mention, if he really was at dispatch, he'd have known Jared was with me. Like I said earlier, something that shouldn't have ever been able to. Jared, I believe you have something that the chief needs to see."
Tracy was almost taken aback when he watched the fox's movements. This wasn't the snarky ass he was used to being paired with, his muscles were shivering from tension, audibly played out in small vibrations coming from the damage pistol he was trying to lift. He was a scared kid, worried about what the teacher would think when he actually showed what he broke. As hard as he tried to speak, nothing would come out, and his partner knew that if this could be helped, he needed to start.
"Look at that gun DelArva. I know this sounds like a tall tale, but I want you to name one thing that can do that to a firearm, and make it look clean. I know you've been following this case, nobody wants to think of a serial killer this proficient on their own turf, but what we saw..." The panther looked up, interrupting the ferret before he could finish the thought.
"That jackal they found in an alley off Boulevard. He had a revolver, and it was split clean up the middle, just like that. It'd been replaced in the holster. I don't like to think about some seedy hoodoo bullshit going on in my backyard, but that's the only evidence that makes sense... you seem to be getting close. If you think you can, kill him. If what you've said is true, he's already proven he'll be hostile towards any apprehending officers. The time frame is getting short Galahad, I have to come forward with something by week's end. I'll do my best to back you up, but this is about the last thing I want to talk about with a concerned public."
"If you did, would anyone believe you? Based on what we've seen, this guy can screw with electronics in multiple ways, has some unknown trick for hiding his identity from absolutely everyone, and has unnatural, inhuman, and unorthodox constructions that can just show up behind locked doors as allies, if they're not just under his command. I don't want to be the guy who tosses around the M-word chief, but I feel like we're one wide brimmed hat away from a best-seller here."
There was something close to silence for a few moments, but small things still defined the soundscape. The constant whir of the still active drive ground at their thoughts like a millstone against their heads. Each moment, it ebbed away at other possibilities, driven forward by the fast little ticks Jared's nerves made against his seat, his own head spinning like a clock with a loose spring. Four little drums of his fingers against the mahogany desk, and finally, the chief was speaking his mind again.
"That's why he needs to be brought to justice. Almost every other detective came to a similar conclusion before dropping the case." DelArva spoke past the clear indignation in the detective's eyes, and the fear in the eyes of his partner.
"However, you're the first to actually follow through on making some connections. You're the first to even catch a glimpse of him, let alone provide evidence. Instead of wanting a transfer because you smelled a whiff of what could be magic, you just went ahead and tested your theory. The results are here..." the panthers next words were barely above a mumble.
"Are they what we wanted?"
"Chief, what the hell are you talking about? You've been at my neck for hard evidence! We've been chased, attacked, and nearly killed to bring it to you, and now you don't know if you wanted it in the first place? Do you want me to just give you my badge or something?" Tracy barely even noticed that Jared was huddled up against the other side of his chair, or that DelArva didn't even seem upset that an inferior officer was shouting him down. Only when the words were out did he honestly notice his boss seemed on the verge of tears.
"Who's going to deal with this... Our last few reports indicated we barely believed this nutcase existed. Maybe it was just some Stand Alone Complex where similar incidents created a persona that wasn't there... I'm not just worried about my job, the mayor can fire me if she wants, but if word gets out about this, who would even swoop in? FBI? CIA? Homeland Security? Maybe there's some crazy division to deal with magic... who knows who'd even control that?"
"So the suits swoop in, then what?" Tracy was slowly acclimating to that train of thought, trying to remember he'd even saw some sort of agent in the building.
"Who can tell? If it's so cloak and dagger, they'd probably have no qualms using officers and civilians as live bait as long as nothing gets out. Maybe they'd even bring in a copycat to piss him off... and after all the lives lost, who'd even say they'd bring him to justice? If he's a total enigma, they might keep him as some kinda weapon in a toolbox. Two years of killing people under my protection, and he'd be walking scott-free. That's why I want him dead, Galahad. Peace of mind. I don't see a man on that recording Galahad, I see an accursed beast that refuses to be caged."
"I remember your commencement speech when I graduated from the academy," Tracy looked at his own revolver. At that time, he hated DelArva's guts for what he said on the stage. It was rare for anyone like him to want to be an officer. It felt like a personal attack, but now all he could see it as was advice. "If they can't be tamed or secured, real beasts need to be put down."
Tracy got up, offering a hand to Jared to do the same. His body shifted slightly into a sympathetic wince when he felt the tension in his partner's grip. Meanwhile, DelArva wordlessly offered his own sidearm, exchanging it with it's broken copy on the desk.
"One week before we have to come forward with this. As long as he doesn't start targeting any other officers I'll do my best to keep this off the books. I'll say I was heading the case by proxy and resign at the end of my announcement Sunday morning. Make this work and I'll let you both off on paid leave for as long as you'd care for."
As they walked back to the car, Tracy started to wonder if he'd even be able to keep working with Jared with the state he was in. He looked like a beaten up piano, ready to snap under the weight of its own tension. It was only after they'd gotten back in the cruiser that the ferret felt like he could speak his mind, putting a hand on the fox's knee as they idled in the parking lot.
"You don't have to do this. I know where I need to go, but once you drop me off, I'll call the chief and tell him you couldn't take the hunt. You've been there for me enough that I don't want you to risk getting scarred for life just because I ended up on the wrong case." Jared's face cycled through a million mixed emotions: fear, regret, anger, all passed before settling on resolve.
"Where are we headed?"
It took an honest moment for Tracy to strip his gaze away, collecting himself as they pulled back onto the road.
"He headed to the docks because he wanted to have some time off the grid. There's two reasons I can think of that he'd still be there. First, I can bet you any money someone from maintenance is in the server center, but still... he looked at the camera before cutting it off. It might be a challenge to whoever found him. He knows of me at the very least, and that I'm a lot more slippery than he's expecting. He didn't kill me before, so he might just stick around to see if he can lure me into something"
"And what, suddenly you expect me to turn tail and run? I said what I meant, we're both going after him Tracy." The ferret did his best to pretend he didn't see how white his friend's knuckles were getting as they gripped the steering wheel.
"No, but there's a very big chance he doesn't know you were with me. Not every detective on the force has an escort, and when he called back over the radio frequency, he didn't seem aware of your presence at all. He may just have thought I was a cut above the rest; I was the first to catch a real glimpse of him from all I know. He may just have assumed I've gotten this far by virtue of unadulterated skill."
"So what, he wants to meet up and taunt you then? Where do I come into whatever insane plan you have brewing?"
"To be frank, I don't know. Ideally, I'd meet him in some storehouse or something, and you'd be able to take a nice clean shot without him noticing. Legal? Hell no, but it puts this ugly saga to an end. It's quite literally impossible to mistake this guy for anyone else."
"He couldn't be that dumb. There is no way in hell he'd ever be that monumentally stupid for even a single moment with how efficient he's been at evading surveillance. He'd find some way to outmaneuver an attempt at surveillance, live or otherwise."
"That's why I don't know. We're basically walking into this blind. Pretty much everything is going to have to be on the fly. if you trust yourself enough to be there, I trust you enough to operate with a degree of independence," Tracy sighed, glancing over to his partner. "If you're going to be there, I'm going to be counting on you."
Those were the last words spoken by the pair before they arrived at the docks. When they were there, Tracy made one final duck into a nearby convenience store. He was stuffing something into his pocket when he came out, nodding to Jared that they could both enter.
"Keep an eye out for those things. If you see one, shoot it if it doesn't notice you."
"And if it does notice me? What the hell, am I supposed to just let it kill me?"
"No, because then we'll both be shooting it if I'm there. Just don't feel the need to call a shot before you take it. Even when we're separated, I can pretty much tell the difference between shots made in panic and one that was neatly lined up
The docks were starting to take on an unfortunately eerie similarity to their first encounters. The wide-set buildings cast long shadows, and there was barely any sunlight filtering through the tight confines of the alleyways between the warehouses. The same feeling of claustrophobia closed in on both officers even if they could now see the sky.
It was back to a game of paranoia-fueled hide and seek. Both had their weapons drawn, glancing every which way for a monster, ready to pop up in a make or break test of their reflexes. The first few were taken by surprise in what was starting to feel like a reversal of fortunes. They were scouting between rooftops, glancing down at just the wrong time to get their existence revoked in a hail of fire.
Tracy's skills of deduction all went into overdrive. He was trying to figure out which were coming and going, how their patrol patterns interwove, and what part of the docks that pointed him towards. Every time Jared saw the detective get a little too cerebral, his trigger finger developed an itch. He wasn't quite sure why, but he even started to smile whenever he landed a good shot.
The attacks, however, were starting in earnest. They weren't just scouting the rooftops anymore, they began to dip into the grid of asphalt, and were avoided about as well as they could be. They were getting marginally closer, but they no longer had the absolute element of surprise. The fact that they were never sent two at a time though, that signaled to Tracy that the Architect probably wanted to play fair. He wasn't aware there was a second party for doubles to begin.
The big break came as the sun started to set. Two different scouts uncrossed their path in just the wrong way, pointing the ferret right back to the den. It was getting dark, but Tracy was confident he could map their patrol pattern blind. It was efficient, yes, but being efficient as possible meant operating without being recursive. Once something passed ahead of them, it was all clear for quite some time.
Tracy almost groaned. They probably could've parked the cruiser right outside for how much the place screamed melodrama. The warehouse was a set-piece, trying to convey a foreboding encounter with huge sliding doors and a maze of catwalks above it. The second Jared saw it, he bolted forwards, trying to avoid actually being seen with the ferret. One clean shot. It was all he was looking for.
Downstairs, Tracy forced the doors apart, revolver hidden in his pants under an intentionally untucked shirt. He was greeted by a single, rhythmic clap, produced by a fur now illuminated by the sliver of light flowing into the warehouse. That same fear from when that psychopath was just pixels on a screen returned in force. The detective was now frozen in panic, begging his legs to move forward.
He was right there. Coat, muffler, everything, right down to the fact that with all the brightness streaming in, not a single ray of sunshine hit his face.
He wasn't alone either. The rafters of the room were filled with flights of the same monsters that had been pursuing them all day, hundreds of identical, featureless porcelain plates pointed straight at Tracy like a parliament of owls.
"Good afternoon, Mister Galahad. I must assume you have some questions for me. Having everything you thought true about the world upended would be a rather traumatic process, even for one as skilled as yourself." He said, that same musical voice in a stark contrast to the intimidation he exuded.
"Who cares about what I had to do to get here, we're finally face to face." The ferret took a few shaky steps forward, his tail puffed out like a pipe cleaner.
"And what a privileged meeting it is. Two of the greatest men of the century, finally meeting. How wonderful it must feel to finally pull back the curtain, to ponder all the possibilities... Tell me, Mister Galahad, Tracy, if I might... What do you think of my works?"
"Galahad. Detective Galahad. And since you're looking for critique, it takes quite a good bit of skill to slice someone to bits standing up. You should probably be applying it somewhere else."
The muffler came off and there was yet more darkness behind it. "Of course Detective Galahad, I shouldn't be so rude to presume our relationship yet. I should rather clarify though, I don't mean my smaller hobby in prose, I was more referring to the veritable galleria you've encountered today. Tell me, what did you think of Ellisya, did she have a beautiful end this time?"
Tracy had to do his best not to spit in anger. "So you make these things... and if you mean that one with all the arms in the server center, it died after taking a full cylinder from a revolver and about half a clip from the pistol it cut in half. I had to take a picture of it to make people think I wasn't crazy. I thought that would be the last one I'd ever see. I guess I was wrong."
The figure in white bolted up with an enraptured gasp. "You have pictures? I simply must see, perhaps I should even give some fitting copper embellishments for her next iteration. You must have done a better job than those dreadful press goons."
"Personal policy. No giving my phone to serial killers." Tracy protectively put a hand over his pocket.
"You think of me only as a serial killer? I feel so disappointed in myself, I must work on my public perception if my main character thinks of me as some lowly psychopath."
"I'm not even giving what you just said the time of day. So, is that what you think of yourself as, then? A sculptor? Some kind of commentator? An architect, maybe? Is that why you had that little murder vacation throughout Europe? You needed some inspiration for your next act of butchery?"
The Architect broke down laughing, collapsing forward onto the floor. "Really now, you think that literally of my name? Stars above, my mentor was right, I really am a hack writer if you reached that conclusion."
"A writer? What the hell are you doing that qualifies you as a writer?" Tracy raised his off hand, but his right was still down by his pocket, ready to shoot.
"Well, I used to think of my writing as being one of form. I did my best to find new subjects and analyze their ending to give them a beautiful new beginning. I brought them up as living expression of my very own prose, dripping with the admiration I had for the beauty of the world. I wrote them better than they'd ever handle their own narratives."
Tracy took the opportunity as the hood leaned back, firing his revolver as best he could. He only took one shot before he was descended upon, and the bullet didn't even reach it's intended target; it smashed into a creature that landed in front of him, delivering a punitive slash on his forearm. He stared down at the cut, realizing that despite the blood traveling along his shirt sleeve, the fabric itself was undamaged.
"How foolish I was. I came to realize my words were not of form and flow, but of blood and steel. I made all of my lovely assistants fall in line with that. That's all they can harm, blood and steel. But, limiting myself so much, it did nothing less than bring out my creative spark, and the beginning of my greatest endeavor. How foolish I could be for thinking ill of you, you fit my writing to a T."
"Why didn't you kill me just then?" Tracy moved his arm back to his pocket, sliding it inside.
"Why bothering aborting a project early? I've come to realize that in my control, I was limiting myself. I figured I shouldn't write the protagonist, but rather worry about the world in which they live and simply write that, letting them react. It's taken two years of setup, but I've finally found my perfect protagonist. Everything finally begins now."
"And what do you think makes me this protagonist you keep wailing on about?" Tracy tried not to think of how long Jared was taking in trying to make the shot.
"Because when you write an amazing story, the lead role tends to fill itself. You find the one man clever enough to see between the seams and find where the author lives, in a world of magic beyond his understanding. You look for that perfect spark and let it ignite a fire that illuminates the whole creation for everyone to see."
"Then out with it, all this writing talk, what's with the name Architect?" Tracy tried his hardest to ignore the slow approach. That he'd barely moved ten feet but this demon was advancing towards him. He didn't even have eyes, but the ferret still avoided contact with something. He knew there was a demented grin in all that blackness. He didn't need to see it; he could feel it.
"Because storytelling is made great by it's structure. Carefully building everything for the characters to bounce off each other seamlessly, silently laying down all the cues and setting the stage for each and every act, for the curtain to rise and fall perfectly. When you read a great work, see a great painting, do you spend the time obsessing over the author, or the narrative? Sure, the greats leave their own mark on history, but do you honestly believe Shakespeare mattered more than what he wrote? Many of the greatest creators seek not to shine through their own work. They slink into the background, and allow the story to tell itself. They become architects of both individuals and societies as a whole and no matter where they are or what they do, the beauty they have built stays standing for years to come."
Tracy gritted his teeth as he heard metal grinding against metal, but the feeling of his stomach dropping to the floor didn't come until he heard a soft, wet drip begin.
"So I give you the greatest gift of all, Detective Tracy Galahad: Motivation. Welcome to the world of steel and blood that I have built for you to explore. One where a detective in his prime seeks to avenge the death of his partner and stumbles into a vast conspiracy where he discovers all the secrets hiding just under the surface of what seemed like such a peaceful society."
Tracy knew it was going to be too late for Jared, so he made the only move that made sense. A quick snap and flash, and the ferret shakily held a temporary camera in one hand.
"I don't know how you don't stick on everything else, but you can't just hide from light. You had a reflection, so an analog camera has to work. You're either going to have to kill me, or let me go with proof that you exist..."
"The final prints would never just give the author anything but a brief cameo, but wow, what a concept," the fur in white simply passed by Tracy, chuckling to himself. "A character trying to prove to everyone else he's in a story with a single token of proof. It's barely even begun, and already, such an interesting twist."
He'd developed the photo by himself. He didn't trust labs anymore. Didn't trust letting anything he wanted to keep permanently out of his sight. He'd bumped into something rather peculiar, a cat he swore he'd seen before. She was reading a book and it gave him an idea. Maybe once he was done with this round of questioning, he'd try and finally hunt down some circle that could explain to him just how the Architect pulled off the shit he did.
He marched into the Stop and Go, shoulders hunched. Things had gotten a lot less tense, but he was still rubbing on nerves. He didn't care, he hadn't asked them yet and they were sure to know something. They couldn't have just forgotten.
He held up the print he had made for the investigation. He still had two days left, and he was going to catch him by Sunday morning come hell or high water.
"Have you seen this man? He's called the Architect. He's tall, wears a white coat, muffler, and boots..."
The photo seemed so useless. The barest silver glints shown where his eyes could be.
"He never touches any of his victims,"
The mouse behind the counter screwed her eyes shut, like she was trying to forget some horrid dream.
"And he doesn't have a face."