Chapter_01:/The_Dame_Wore_Yellow

  Pce: Club Metamorphosis

  Date: April 17, 1931 T.E

  Time: 0930

  Heentered the room and was met with the sound of throbbing drums and a soft-stringedinstrument pying a cacophonous and discordant sound that was both off-puttingand disorienting. The sound, mixed withthe thick, ever-present cloud of smoke from hundreds of pipes and hookahs, anddim lights made the entire club a tactical nightmare.

  “Don’tbreathe in any of this,” he cautioned. “Lastthing I need is one of you getting affected by the smoke and whatever they putin it.” His team nodded and adjustedtheir masks.

  This was his first operation in Vice,but this was not a typical drug bust, and he was not a typical cop. Part of the special Sturm und Drang or Shockand Stress squad, Detective Chris Loenguard and his fire team were more thanjust police but cked the authority of the military.

  For the past six months, Chris andhis team had been investigating, tailing and hunting a man named Vasily “TheDragon” Dragunov. Dragunov was awell-connected drug and human trafficker with ties going as high up as senatorsand high-ranking members of the Church itself. His chief had spent his entire life trying to put the man behind barsand now, with incurable brain cancer and his affairs in order, the idea ofcommitting career suicide seemed like a good way to end it all.

  “No one will know you’reinvolved. I’ll make sure of that. And this will all fall on me,” the Chiefsaid. “When it hits the fan, I’ll be theonly one it will rain down on. Mark mywords.”

  “Listen up. Dragunov is not expecting us, and we arrangedto have the club vacated, so the civilian casualties should be near zero. That said, expect the worst. He has ties to everyone from rank-and-filecops all the way up to God Himself, if rumor is to be believed. We can use this to our advantage. The man thinks he’s invincible and our job isto make sure that he is reminded that no one is above the w.” Three men nodded in unison.

  “Kill orders?”

  “Shoot to kill if necessary. The man has ties with child trafficking, and itjust so happens our jail has no room for people who harm children. That said, the official call is to detain, ifpossible, but off the record, I know my trigger finger has been a little itchytely.” He winked behind the mask, andhis men caught the smile in his voice.

  Club Metamorphosis officially was anight club in a tucked away corner of the Human Quarter called Exeter; officially,it was a smokehouse and people came from across the city to get their fix ofhigh-end tobacco, Spice and a legal drug called Angel Tears, though the realdraw some said was a new drug that went by the street name of Grave Dust. Rumor was Grave Dust was made from the groundup dehydrated brains of Kivihli and gave people a sense of euphoria and if therumors were to be believed, a sort of precognition. Why someone would want to snort dried Trichbrain was anyone’s guess, but Loenguard knew that addicts weren’t human anymoreand most should just be put down permanently.

  “I can’t stress this enough,” hesaid again, without the mirth. “Whateveryou do, don’t take your mask off. Theremight be loose piles of Grave Dust, and if it gets in your mouth or eyes, itcould spell trouble. I lost a cop whenhe got hit in the face with some Icicle, st month.” He made no effort to follow-up orexpin. After a moment a rookie pipedin.

  “So…what happened?” All eyes fell on him, and while everyone worea mask and goggles, the daggers they shot were clear.

  “Boy, that drug isn’t meant to beconsumed by us Purebloods. It’s a damnHusk drug. What gets them high as a zepturns our blood to ash inside a minute. It’s a horrific way to die. Sincewe don’t know what’s inside, don’t breathe.” He stared at the cop from behind glowing red goggles. The others said nothing, but gripped theirguns tighter.

  Chris, for his part, only tookinventory of the room. It was theantechamber to the maze of locked doors and hallways. It was a tactical nightmare, but they had nochoice. The Dragon rarely left thesafety of his den, and when he did, he didn’t stay in the same pce forlong. They had to act fast or lose theironly opportunity.

  “We go on three. Any questions?” No one said a word. One man scratched the back of his neck,another checked the sights again and the third, the rookie, checked the O2valve on his mask.

  Chris saw someone watching him. Itwas a figure, no rger than a toddler, wearing a bck veil and wrapped in abed spread that trailed behind it. Thefigure darted through a door, the sheet trailing behind. It took him a moment to realize that the redbedspread wasn’t red at all, but drenched in some sort of red liquid. Before he could raise the arm, the voice inhis ear told him it was time to go.

  “We are go. Initiate takedown on my mark. Mark.” The voice was the strong, confident voice of his commander—a man who hadserved beside Chris in the war.

  “It’s go time,” Chris said andpressed his back against the wall beside the door. With one fluid motion, he back-kicked thedoor open and spun around to breach the opening, while his team covered him.

  “Holy smokes!” Someone behind him excimed. He had other, choice words to say at thescene id out before him. The hallway infront of them was covered in blood sptter and on the floor, in small pools ofcoaguting blood, chopped up body parts y scattered about. If someone had filled a balloon with redliquid and infted it to bursting, it would have left less blood sprayed onevery surface. The overhead light hungfrom wires and the broken bulb sputtered sparks and blinked in and out ofexistence.

  “What happened here? Who could have done this?”

  “We dealing with some sort ofmonster, boss? Strigoi or something killsomeone?”

  Chris said nothing, but pushed apiece of meat out of the way with the toe of his boot. It was the palm of a hand and the back of ithad a familiar tattoo covered in blood, but still legible.

  “Whatever did this,” he turned tolook at the masked faces staring at him. Their three sets of unblinking red goggles staring back, “found outtarget and he may be in danger. Missionparameters have changed. We have to find him and secure him. Alive. Do you understand?” No one said aword, but one nodded.

  “I need you to stay frosty and keepyour head on a swivel. We don’t knowwhat did this or if it’s still here. I’mnot losing any of you, do you understand?” Again, no words, only silence.

  “I need a verbal fuckingconfirmation that you understand your assignment.” In a brief moment of anger and loss ofcontrol, he brought the barrel of his gun to the chest of Alenko, his rifleman,and pressed against the ceramic pte armor.

  “Copy that team leader. Now get that shit out of my fucking face or therewill be two bodies to clean up.” Thehot-headed man shrugged the barrel away and shoved past Chris. The other two followed, leaving him behind. He looked around again and again swore he sawthe girl in the veil run past him.

  “He had it coming,” he thought heheard a girl’s voice whisper. “Don’thurt me.” He again wanted to saysomething, but this time, chose to focus on what was in front of them. The team slowly and methodically breached andcleared every room, each coming up empty. Chris, for his part, became hyper focused and, like a bloodhound,followed the faint trail of blood streaked across the worn carpet below theirfeet.

  The blood-soaked carpet squishedbeneath their feet and rivulets of blood seeped up with every step. Whoever did this left a trail for them, andthat more than anything set his mind on edge.

  “Stop.” He ordered and the three frozeimmediately. “Why didn’t anyone report thisattack? Why didn’t anyone reportscreaming or a monster? How could anyonedraw this much violence and not raise an arm?” Mondragon, the rookie, removed his gas maskand revealed the youthful face of a blonde boy with green eyes and a scaracross his nose.

  “Everyone is either afraid or toohopped up on drugs to notice. The Dragonisn’t known for his kindness to his enemies and those working for him andescaped describe him as, well, a Dragon. If this,” he pointed the barrel of his gun toward a pile of what mayhave been intestines, “You think anyone is going to rat on whoever did this tohim?”

  “Put your damn mask on,soldier. I didn’t give theall-clear!” Anger was the only emotionhe could feel right now. Anger and fear.

  He had a good point though, Christhought bitterly as the man put his mask on with a string of curses andgrumbles. The air was clear save for thesmell of blood. Clear and still.

  Not only was the pce empty, thefew they did see were in such a drugged stupor that not even the Ein Softhemselves could shake them from their stupor before the drugs wore off. Interrogating them would prove useless, sothey left them behind to wake in a deserved nightmare in due time.

  “Move out assholes. Whatever we’re looking for is in the next andst room. Whether it’s a Dragon or amonster, we’ll find out soon enough. Nowstay sharp and fall behind me.”

  Chris checked his mask again anddoing so unintentionally broke the seal of his ventitor. He and the team prepared to enter the finaldoor. He felt his heart racing as heprepared to breach and clear.

  Everything happened in the spacebetween heartbeats. He back-kicked thedoor open again and spun around. Thescene of the murder was something he’d never forget and even the cops with him,all of whom had seen active combat, were brought to their knees.

  Vasily “The Dragon” Dragunov waslying in a pool of his own blood—what was left of him, that was. His arms and legs had been severed and hisgenitals were mutited beyond recognition. The crime scene investigators ter discovered that he had been cutapart slowly over the course of hours, one finger and toe at a time untileventually nothing was left but a writhing torso. Someone had removed all his teeth—one at atime— and his tongue and pced a mirror angled in such a way that he saweverything the entire time.

  What happened next did not happenquick, nor was it clean. Chris rushedthe man to check if he had somehow survived the assault, Alenko removed hismask to vomit, Rickard, the grenadier, ran out of the room and the rookie justfell to his knees and began to sob.

  “What-what sort monster did this? I’ve dreamed of doing some damage to peoplelike him but this… this is inhuman.” Therookie asked, shaking in disbekief. Theothers, having been in combat and seen what their enemies, the Villenjaci, haddone to their foes, were disgusted and shocked, but also surprised. They never expected to see this sort ofcarnage outside of war.

  “My guess would be a Husk didthis. Why, Gods only know. All I know is we aren’t getting any valuable intelout of him. Time do dust and report whatwe saw. All of what we saw.” Chris regained his composure and turned toleave. His anger had subsided, and hewas once again a cold professional doing a job. Then the fear returned and he swore he saw the girl in the veil again,and this time he followed her. Sheslipped through a small opening near the back of the room, behind a loungecouch and nearly imperceptible to the naked eye.

  “It’s ok little girl. He can’t hurt you anymore. No one can hurt you.” He crouched down and held his hand out to thegirl, but instead of the girl he had been seeing, it was a cat that jumped outat him.

  “Shit!” He yelled and fell back, bracing himself withhis free hand. This was a mistake, and hegrabbed a bowl for support as he fell. The bowl flipped and a powdery substance flew into the air and bypassedhis mask through the faulty seal. Moreprofanity followed as Chris gasped and choked for air, the drug filling hislungs and sending his brain into a spiral. When his mind finally stopped spinning out of control, he looked aroundand saw a semi translucent image of a man standing near the body. He looked like how he imagined Vasily lookedwhen he was still alive, only he was in one piece and looked terrified.

  “What happened? Where am I?” The ghostly image pleaded. Hecaught a glimpse of Chris and rushed over to him, fist raised.

  He braced himself and held firmagainst the attack, but was surprised when it never came and the eidolon passedright through him.

  “What… what happened?” The ghost excimed and looked around,confused.

  “He’s dead now,” Chris said to noone and everyone. “The mission is over,leave him to the ME’s. He ignored the spirit,believing that it was a hallucination from the drug he inhaled.

  But it wasn’t.

  “How do you know? You’re over there, Loenguard.” It was his grenadier. And Chris told the first of what would be afive year long string of lies.

  “I heard him stop breathing,” hesaid, looking at the confused and terrified ghost. “Secure the room. I need to check the body. “

  “Alone?”

  “I said secure the fucking room,rookie. Now secure the fucking roombefore I tear this mask off and shove your head through a wall.”

  It was the first threat of violencehe’d make against his own men, and the st. He got to interrogate the ghost, for what it was worth considering hegot nothing of value. He also got takenoff Vice and fired.

  For five years, Chris saw the deadand they began to speak to him. Betweenthe violent outburst, the addiction to Grave Dust and his eventual drinking tosilence the voices, he didn’t st long in the police force.

  Private detective work suited himbetter anyway and he only had his secretary to contend with and Skyr Danielsdidn’t take lip from anyone, and she helped him taper off Dust and find clientsto pay the bills.

  “Can’t believe that damn Trich didme in,” was the st and only thing The Dragon said. Over and over again.

  Now

  Chris snuffs the cigarette out inan overstuffed ashtray and taps his pencil on the table.

  “Famous industrialist of the 1830’sknown for his temper. Eight across…”

  Work had been slow tely, and theflow of money even slower. Chris hadsquirreled away enough money from his st case to hold him over for a week ortwo, but even the little old dies with lost dogs stopped coming by. The city was undergoing some sort of GoldenAge, and so detective work was at an all-time low.

  It's not like the city solved thecrime problem, only the police had done a fine job squashing anyone who mightbe suspected of crime and cracked down on those who actually did commit them. To the Police, it seemed, everyone was guiltyof something and everyone confessed.

  If someone confessed to a crimethey didn’t commit, it was quietly shushed and went away. He was gd he quit… was fired… before theIron Fist closed around the throats of the Citizens and non-Citizens alike. Being friends with many of the cops meant hecould work unmolestedly too and could get away with methods that would resultin others seeing the business end of a fist.

  “You still working hard in there?” It is his secretary, Skyr Daniels shoutingfrom the other room. The sound of hervoice, slightly shrill and nasally, but not unpleasant, is something henormally likes to hear. When she speaks,it typically means she is talking business or making some pyful joke tolighten the mood.

  Not today.

  Today, he hates that she shoutedfrom across the room instead of wheeling over or using the phone, but both werein a mood, and neither wanted to see the other.

  Chris had forgotten her birthday,and when he finally remembered and bring her dime store flowers, she was toocross to even thank him, putting him in a bad mood too.

  “I’d be busier if I had acase. You got any out there?” He snaps.

  “I would if you stopped mopingaround like a petunt little girl. I’msorry the st case went south, but it’s not your fault, alright?”

  He sighed and gripped his penciltighter. The st case…of course she hadto bring that up.

  “That’s not it, Sky. It’s just that… Forget it; I’m getting a drink, you wantanything?” It’s easier to push hisfeelings aside rather than talk them out with Sky. She would understand, but he had been taughtsince he was a child that you can’t talk things out with women and it’s easierto act like nothing was wrong.

  “Sure doll, I’ll take something.” Her demeanor changes at the offer of liquor. “Two fingers of eel juice.” Slowly, he stands up and walks the shortdistance to his office bar, cleverly hidden behind a bookshelf. It’s a small bar, but well-stocked and hasenough liquor to keep the two of them sloshed until payday.

  A few moments ter, he holds twotumblers of cheap bourbon and turns around to see a woman leaning against theframe of his door, only her silhouette showing against the bright light of theouter room.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday, Sky I…oh, I’m sorry. Can I help you?”

  “My name is Anora Roth and I needyou.”