Just Another Case

PROLOGUE-- Why didn't she call for back-up?

I yawned again.

For the fifth time in the three minutes I had been seated at my usual table in 'PHO 88'.

The service, despite being extremely hospitable, was getting slower with the invasion of delivery apps.

What took ten minutes from menu to mouth now dragged onto thirty--if I was lucky...

By this point, it was around two, which did not stop the rush of city life and the hours where sins could be properly indulged and disposed of...

I had already hit up 'Ronny's'; 'Danial's Grill and Bar'; and of course...'O'Malley's Pub' where Jamie gave me free beer cheese and pretzels.

From the way I was dozing, it was about time to go to bed, which was nice because 'Neon' should be busy.

After another fifteen minutes, my shrimp and pork udon bowl and eggrolls were placed heftily in front of me with a pot of tea.

From the first bite, almost three years ago, I knew I was going to die at this table, and from the way "business was booming", it felt like it...

Now, they practically wait for me to come in, always a little past midnight, always a little too wide awake for the time.

I feel like they would call the cops if I didn't show...might have to switch up my Asian food if that was the case...

Chief would bring me back just to kill me if my death brought any attention to the Orthodoxy.

Like always I inhaled the meal in less than twenty minutes, giving me more time to head to bed.

Ming flagged me down for a goodbye, as she always did right after I paid and gave them a hundred tip; I gave her a lazy salute and swung the door into the cold.

Winter was easing up on us after a harsh month long storm that almost costed me my toes about three weeks back.

I started my car from the fob, and fumbled in my coat pocket for my com-com, a corporate issued "compact-communicator" that we were not allowed to call a phone due to copyright problems...

I always checked for missed messages, especially since Ian was working tonight...under a full moon...

I shuddered at the thought, but I worked last "Howliday" and I wanted a fracking break from the mayhem.

My car was already toasty when I got in and I near fell asleep at the wheel before pulling into the almost full parking lot of 'Neon: Cyber- Café and Comics.'

My body instinctively relaxed as soon as I parked, winding down into a loose fatigue ready to be rested onto my stained lazy-boy at the back of the store before being lugged back to work in five hours.

Then, I would put in my nine, head to 'O'Malley's' for dinner and apps and then back to 'Neon' for snoozes and naps.

Yes, I owned a home. A cushy apartment on the west-end where the harbor was. It was thirty minutes away and served as a glorified closet/mail box/ storage unit in my life.

After graduating my training by the Orthodoxy, I made it my personal mission to never sleep in my house.

To never sleep alone.

To never be alone.

Especially not in the dark.

Neon was packed from table to table. Some patrons were even standing, holding their cards and books.

Tonight was the opening night of "Fantasy February" where they played DND; Warhammer; Gwent (whatever the frack that means) and all the other comic loving entrails.

Fischer stood at the counter, serving drinks and theater food like cheap nachos and popcorn.

Without so much of a glance, he held out his hand to accept my com-com and handed me my ol' faithful pillow.

Those who were regulars pulled their friends out of my way as I shuffled to the back of the last row of stand-up arcade games.

The corduroy armchair nestled herself right beside the half wall behind the games, just far enough to not be overtaken by the talk of elves and drag0ns but not so much that if something happened no one would hear me.

I about cried when I hit the cushions and like a spell had settled in my bones, I was drifted off into the safe dark of sleep; with the hum of people reminding me of my "pack".

I jolted awake even before Fischer reached out to touch my shoulder. I felt the heat of his palm too familiarly in my sleep.

"What?..." I sat forward, blinking hard.

"Phone. They said it was urgent." His copper face was hard pressed, and I stared at him for a minute longer before taking the clam-shell receiver.

"Wills-" I started before Chief interrupted me; "-Why is a "civi" answering your work phone?"

"FISCHER--has been answering my phone for two years. Where is Ian?"

"...5894 Henner's Way, take the back way." Click.

He always was a man of few words....

I sighed heavily, heaving to my feet and slipping my com-com in my pocket.

"Be careful, something-" Fischer paused, holding his hand up to stop me, "-Something is wrong..."

"I know." I patted his chest, almost eye level to me since he was about six and half feet.

He sighed this time, and moved out of my way, handing me a bag.

"You are leaving before your breakfast corn-dogs, so here." I smiled and hugged him, the only person I would and jogged to my car.

I couldn't tell you what happened on the way. Hell--I question if I ran a red because I don't remember the greens to be honest.

Ian was of the last of us; The Stratum Septa; out of our forty-two person class in training, there were only seven women.

Now only four; if Ian...three.

When I arrived, the black vans of Sector 54 littered the yard, unkempt land that was either overgrown pavement or a partially cemented lawn. Beyond it by twenty yards was a dilapidated house skinned in eviction notices and peeling paint.

What the hell was Ian doing out here...

"Wills..." Chief looked unusually tired and.. puffy.

"I want to see her-" "-Wills..." "I WANT TO SEE HER NOW." Chief gazed into my eyes, almost like a warning.

"I need to see her, Percy..." I accepted the responsibility of whatever I was about to see.

The first thing I wish I did not do.

Chief huffed, turning his back and making his way to the house. I followed him up the path, but because of the poor foundation, I followed him down.

We passed Ian's car, and all of the breath in me escaped like a soul released.

In the metal of her left hand door was five open gashes, the edges of them peeled back like torn flesh.

Three sudden realizations hit me at once at the sight:

An unregistered Lycan had taken up residence in our territory.

I know why Percy was hesitant to show her to me.

I do not want to see Vivian.

My feet stopped and Percy gently took my arm, leading me the ten steps to the front door. I was committed to the choice now. Whatever needs to be seen, will be...

The smell of blood hit me harder than my earlier epiphanies, and my feet went from pausing to dragging.

However, I powered forward, entering the miasma of death and the unmistakable aroma of rotting flesh.

It was a hot night, hot and humid, which was not kind to Vivian.

She would laugh about it, how the humidity fracked her in life and now ruined her appearance in death.

Her blood draped the walls and pooled like the gathering of a crimson skirt around her body.

Her already pale skin was a glowing white in the dark with the exception of the parts that were black with dried blood. She looked like a gothic beauty, posing for a avant-garde photoshoot. Something she would one hundred percent do...

But, the grizzled open cavity where her abdomen should be dashed any hope of this being a macabre joke. Another thing she would one hundred percent do.

I thought I would scream like my own organs were being ripped from my body, but my composure remained calm.

I moved passed the forensics team and kneeled next to her head, barely held on by a neck shredded to just ribbons of stubborn muscle.

I placed my hand on her forehead, smoothing back her bloodied bangs and I left.

The next I saw of her was the black marble urn placed in the Memoriam of the Fallen in HQ...

Like me, Ian hated being alone in the dark. So her not calling back-up meant this was an ambush.

Which meant she was here for a reason, and whoever knew this took the opportunity to murder her.

And for this, I will kill them.

I slipped into caseworker mode and opened Ian's car. We had each other's extra fobs on our keys...for this very reason.

It smelled like musk and lilies, her perfume, and it took everything not to lose it right there.

She kept her vehicle very clean, usually, so the dire state of the inside, littered with papers and folders was more than strange.

Her com-com was on the dash, open and blinking, which meant she had the GPS on.

She did not trust the situation and meant to leave quickly...

Under the com-com was a folded note, written upon it was a grid filled with tic-tac-toe. Of the nine squares, the 'Xs" made a diamond shape with an 'O' in the center and were connected by a line like the person won...

It was weird, especially since the shape violated the rules. It felt important, so I set back on the dash to pocket later and noticed on the other side, written down the edge was "L, D, U, R, R."

"Leader?..." What does that mean Ian?

I circled to the back and opened her trunk, screaming as I did.

In the middle her boot was a crudely cut off arm, handcuffed to a black briefcase.

I stared down at it as Chief came running, pausing in the same confusion beside.

"What in the living hell...Do you know about this?!" He shouted, ushering forensics to the car.

"No..." I picked up the briefcase and I looked at the latch. A small keypad.

Out of the seam on the left side was a hundred dollar bill and two more were stuck to the bottom in blood.

"This was opened before..."

I got the note from the dash and realized the little apple drawn in the corner.

My name is Iden and she always got me apple associated things for the relevance.

This was a puzzle for me, and I figured that the odd shape in the tic-tac-toe was the numbers I needed but what the frack was the order Ian?....

"THE LETTERS!" I screamed and flipped the paper.

In the keypad I put in the combination; "Left, Down, Up, Right, and Right."

The case popped open, Chief moaned about tainting evidence but I was face to face with stacks of hundred dollar bills.

But, the case felt too heavy and I dumped out the money to see four vials hidden underneath and a small black book which upon further investigation held names and chemical formulas.

So here I was, my best friend and ex-girlfriend dead in an abandoned home, about $50,000 in her trunk, along with mysterious drugs and the recipe of how to make them.

And an arm that belongs to no once.

Marking my second mistake.

Thinking I knew who Vivian Tamaki was.