#I swear to god it was a coincidence about the whole racism in the police thing

[alphawave-writes]

Requiem for the Apostle Chapter 2: Birthright

Synopsis: Harry and Kim retrace their steps to learn more about the victim of their latest case. 

Read it here or find it on AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter @alphawave13.

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YOU — It's exactly 08:00 in the morning when you enter Precinct 41. Compared to your previous workplace, Precinct 57, it's almost exactly the same. The building is faded and chipping away, with the office and its workers running on fumes. It's hot and humid and sticky, with paperwork piling up everywhere. The only empty space is right next to the molds growing on the wall like vines on a trellis. There's still the daydrinkers, the cops that sleep all day, the racist bullies that want a chance to flex their muscles, and the lustful perverts ogling at scantily clad women in magazines. By now you've learned not to judge your fellow half-brothers. They're all coping mechanisms for what is essentially under appreciated, underpaid, and unsatisfying work. That's not to say it's completely the same. At least Precinct 57 had a decent few Mesquites and Seolites in their ranks—whether born and raised in their home isolas or Revacholieres in all but appearance such as yourself—and that gave a bit of variety with your coworkers. Precinct 41 however consists almost purely of true blue Revacholieres, with the odd individual from Graad. Just because Precinct 57 is more diverse doesn't mean the people there can't be racists, it's just that the people who worked there were encouraged to be racist behind closed doors. In Precinct 41, not so much.

REACTION SPEED [Formidable: Success] — As you walk to your desk you hear a Patrol cop whisper "Fucking Seolite" under their breath.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] — There's only one 'Seolite' in Precinct 41, or at least one half-Seolite. They can only be talking about you.

COMPOSURE [Trivial: Success] — You've heard it too many times before, these racist remarks behind your back. It won't affect you today, just like it won't affect you ever.

AUTHORITY [Trivial: Success] — It's still so stupid though. You're a proud Revacholiere, just like the rest of them, you only look like a Seolite. You should storm in there and tell them so. You're a detective and they're just a cop. You have the upper hand. They will bend to your will.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] — Do you want to get us kicked out of the RCM? Just take it like a man. Like you've always taken it.

YOU — You take a seat at your old, hand-me-down desk opposite Harry's. Despite being the exact same make and colour, it's impossible to mistaken your desk for his. Your desk is clean and tidy, with all your paperwork sorted into a neat pile. Harry's desk is surprisingly not the messiest in the precinct, but compared to yours it looks like a dumpster. Papers are strewn all over in no discernible fashion. Handwritten notes are pinned on a corkboard which takes up way too much room, the rambling handwriting difficult for all but Harry and Jean to read (it's only through experience that you are now able to decipher Harry's script). There is a system in his mess, just like there’s a system to the insane logic inside Harry’s bizarre yet brilliant mind, but very few have had the opportunity (and patience) to see the patterns.

In that regard, you're one of the lucky ones. Or unlucky ones, depending on who you ask.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] — This desk actually used to belong to Satellite-Officer Jean Vicquemare. Your original desk, the one you were supposed to be assigned to, is much further away at the end of the room and is much more cramped and much less nice than this one. However, Jean was only too happy to let you take his desk and move all his stuff as far away from Harry as humanly possible. Even if you didn't see Jean move all his stuff away from here, you would be able to tell this desk once belonged to him by the scent of powerful medication emanating from a single locked drawer to your right, which you refuse to touch.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] — You hear a yawn, then a groan, as Lieutenant double-Yefreitor Harry du Bois plops his way down onto his seat.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] — Judging by the humongous kebab in his hands and the obnoxious level of sauce on his face, it's safe to say that this is his breakfast.

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] — Could he at least try to eat with his mouth and not his beard? They're not called mutton chops because there's food in those locks.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Formidable: Success] — Though they are rather luscious locks. Wonder if they're as soft to the touch as they look.

YOU — "Harry…" You say, voice rising slightly in warning. You point at the little bit of orange marring his face.

HARRY DU BOIS — "Huh? Oh, sorry." He fishes out a handkerchief from his jacket and wipes his face messily before licking the sauce away from the handkerchief.

REACTION SPEED [Formidable: Success] — It's definitely the handkerchief you gave him all the way back from the Hanged Man case. You'd recognise those initials anywhere. You forgot to ask it back.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] — Before Harry wiped his face with it, it was completely clean. He's been washing it, caring for it. He treasures it.

VOLITION [Legendary: Success] — There's still a stain on the edge of his lip that Harry keeps missing. It takes all your willpower not to reach over and wipe it off yourself.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] — Are we not going to talk about Harry's tongue, because whoo boy, it's long. Just the way we like it.

YOU — "You kept the handkerchief?"

HARRY DU BOIS — "Why not? It's pretty nice and I like it." His lips dip into a half-frown. "Oh, do you want it back?"

YOU — "Just…keep it," you shake your head. "Consider it a present."

HARRY DU BOIS — Harry relaxes and neatly folds the handkerchief back into his jacket.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] — He looks like a child that's been told they can have a cookie. Or a hand embroidered handkerchief.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] — Does Harry even know you hand embroidered it yourself?

HARRY DU BOIS — "So Jean’s officially assigned me as your partner for this case. Our number one objective is to find Lucky at the moment. If we solve the murders, that's a bonus as far as they're concerned."

YOU — You nod grimly. "I assume these are the Captain’s words, not Satellite-Officer Vicquemare’s."

HARRY DU BOIS — "It totally sucks, I know, but that’s our orders."

YOU — "And do they know about my…medical condition?"

RHETORIC [Medium: Failure] — You can’t help but wince at your own words.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Godly: Success] — You better thank me the only sign of injury on you is a light bruise on your head, completely obscured by your hair.

HARRY DU BOIS — "I almost did, but I decided not to. Can’t let them know they now have two amnesiac cops in their precinct."

YOU — "It’s different. You’ve literally forgotten everything. I’ve only forgotten the last week."

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] — The most important week.

HARRY DU BOIS — He shakes his head forlornly. "Still. Don’t need another reason for Jean to separate me from you."

RHETORIC [Formidable: Success] — There’s deeper meaning to his words. He fears separation. Not just physical separation, but a spiritual one. A bond he hopes will never break or slip away.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success]— A bond you will perfectly curate. The perfect distance. No further. No closer.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] — No weaker, but no stronger. You won’t push him away, but you won’t let him closer either, even though it hurts.

HARRY DU BOIS — "So. I'm assuming you read up your case notes. Fill me in?"

YOU — You take your notebook out, just so you can refer back just in case.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — It's easier for you to read than hear your thoughts. Even now you give us life not through voices but with type-written words flashing before your eyes. Text flying across your vision as though it comes from a world-class computer.

YOU — "The corpse was found in Villalobos, near but not on Mesque gang grounds. For the first few days of my investigation, it was just known as Corpse#1, but later I found out the corpse was named Santiago Velez, an immigrant from Mesque. Medium height and build, no unusual features except for these ritualistic cuts all throughout his torso. Throughout the investigation we found out that these cuts were performed while he was alive. Cause of death was blunt force trauma."

You flip your notebook to the next page where a rough diagram of the corpse's markings is on full display. You slide the notebook over to Harry so he can take a look. He does not take it, just peers over the low boundary between your desks. He winces.

HARRY DU BOIS — "Nasty shit. Also, did I mention you cannot draw?"

HAND/EYE COORDINATION [Medium: Failure] — What are you expecting me to say? You can't draw shit. You haven't even mastered the fine art of the humble stickman.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] — But he doesn't need to know that.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] — He also doesn't need to know that this is not your handiwork. Your previous attempts at drawing are far worse than this. These drawings were ripped out from someone else's notebook and added to yours. This was Lucky's handiwork.

YOU — "Drawing skills were never a prerequisite for becoming an officer of the RCM. And anyway, I have a photograph as well from the initial autopsy." You hand that also to Harry, who takes one glance and grimaces.

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] — The green on his face is a bit too close to the colour of his shoes, but at least he does not vomit.

HARRY DU BOIS — "These markings. They look like Mesque iconography. Like the brands they would put on criminals that were sent out into the community."

YOU — "A dead end according to my notes. This body has been cut by two different blades. The Mesque iconography was just to throw us off the scent, to pin it on one of the gangs."

You flip over to the next page and show two more drawings Lucky had made, this time of the cuts on the body separated by which blade made them. They're slightly better in quality, and therefore slightly more horrifying.

HARRY DU BOIS — Harry glances at your notebook and groans. "Fuck, can I at least finish my kebab before you show me this?"

YOU — "Wouldn't that give you more room to savour what's left of your food?" You raise an eyebrow.

HARRY DU BOIS — "Kim, please."

YOU — "What is it that the Satellite-Officer says? Toughen up, shitkid?"

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] — Somewhere behind you, you hear Satellite-Officer Jean Vicquemare shout "Damn fucking straight!" before disappearing out of sight.

HARRY DU BOIS — Harry buries his free hand into his greasy hair. "I fear the day you two work together and gang up on me."

YOU — "I'll be sure to let him know you're so eager to get rid of me."

HARRY DU BOIS — "That's not what I mean, I…" He huffs, his red cheeks getting redder. "Just tell me about the drawings already."

YOUR NOTEBOOK — You look down at the two drawings. Of the two, the first picture is the more interesting one. There are swirling shapes within these cuts, not angular and straight as you'd expect from a knife. The marks don't make much sense. There are two ovals on both sides of the victim's chest, a spiral near the stomach, and a few other intricate marks that don't make much sense to you. Whoever made these markings had plenty of experience cutting skin into these intricate shapes. They had to be an artist, or someone who's used to cutting meat, like a butcher. It's possible the murderer learned this skill from cutting animals. You don't discredit the possibility however that there's been many more victims before this one, each a new canvas to practice on.

The second picture is less interesting, but has its own story to tell. On its own it looks like a random jumble of tiny cuts. The blade used for this one is wielded by someone else with less artistic skill, making the more normal straight cuts. The person who made the second set of cuts must have been Mesque or involved with Mesque gangs, because of the use of certain lesser-known Mesque gang iconographies such as the old Franconigerian motto for Mesque: en mis dominios no se pone el sol.

HARRY DU BOIS — He points at the phrase. "What does that mean?"

YOU — "In my domains, the sun does not set. It was once attributed to Franconegro when he incited his citizens to fight back against the Army of Humanity led by Dolores Dei. It did not go well."

HARRY DU BOIS — "And what is it attributed to now?"

YOU — "The Mazda. If you think about it, it's clever. They did close off a street in Villalobos. If you look at The Mazda as the sun, then the sun truly does not set in their domain. If you've been working for the RCM as long as you have, you would have encountered this phrase eventually. A lot of Mesquites involved in the gangs have this as a tattoo."

HARRY DU BOIS — "Until I forgot literally everything."

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] — There's a bit of sadness in his voice, but also acceptance. He tries not to think too much about the things he's forgotten. If they haven't come back by now, they never will.

YOU — "Does the phrase ring a bell?"

HARRY DU BOIS — He shakes his head. "Don't remember it, and I haven't heard it either. Is it commonly known?"

YOU — "Amongst Precincts 41 and 57? Yes. Amongst the populace? No. Most people try to avoid the Mesque gangs. They certainly wouldn't want to get close enough to know what their mottos are."

HARRY DU BOIS — "So if it's not that common, doesn't that mean the second guy who carved it was involved with The Mazda?"

LOGIC [Medium: Success] — You must have considered it at one point judging by your notes. But there's nothing else to confirm or deny that theory, and you didn’t seem to pursue that lead later on.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Formidable: Success] — You would have pursued it, but something stopped you. A piece of evidence you didn’t write down. A certain trainee detective meddling with your affairs.

YOU — "It’s possible, I admit, but we don’t have any evidence. Either way, forensic analysis did confirm that these two different cuts were both made within an hour of each other. At least two people are involved in this murder, if not more."

HARRY DU BOIS — He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting, interesting."

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] — He has no idea what to make of all this so far.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] — You don't either. Not that Harry knows.

HARRY DU BOIS — Harry snaps his fingers. "You must have processed the body, right? It’s barely been a week, there’s a chance it’s still in the Morgue."

YOU — "Probably, but it’s unlikely. We go through a lot of corpses in a week's time. It might not be there."

LOGIC [Easy: Success] — Although you do have the corpse’s processing ID number. You can always ask.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] — Good thing you have the amnesiac by your side again.

HARRY DU BOIS — He taps your notebook. "You have the ID number. We can check it out, I can always pretend to forget everything."

YOU — "But you really don't know anything about it."

HARRY DU BOIS — "Then my dazzling performance will be all the more believable then." He winks.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] — Even if he did know something, he likes pretending not to know anything if it gets him what he wants.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] — And what he wants, apparently, is to spend time with you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Legendary: Success] — He wants you bad.

YOU — He does not want me badly. You guys are just saying stuff because you're part of my imagination or something.

REACTION SPEED — Have you been imagining about Harry recently?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] — It's probably easier to ask when have you not been imagining about Harry?

INLAND EMPIRE [Legendary: Success] — Harry is on his back. You're crouched on top of him. Your hands are on his throat and the sun's light is behind you. You are the sun and he is the moon, reflecting your brilliance back. You're stronger than him, could burn him into a crisp, but you can't and you won't. His skin is pale and full of craters, but kissed by the sun's light, it would light up brilliantly. He can eclipse you perfectly. Together, you can make a true spectacle.

YOU — I'll make a spectacle of myself if I did that.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] — You probably will.

AUTHORITY [Heroic: Success] — But you won't.

YOU — You stand up from your seat, pocketing your notebook into your jacket. "Come on. Let's go then and check up this lead."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Godly: Success] — He smiles a bit to himself, relishing in the knowledge that you two are partners working a case again. He misses this. Misses the distraction. The camaraderie.

VOLITION [Godly: Success] — Harry's hand lies prone by his side, but you do not take it. You walk side by side, a comfortable distance away from each other.

PATH TO THE MORGUE — For many logical and logistical reasons the RCM morgue is at the completely opposite end of Precinct 41. It's a long, winding path to the Morgue, such that only the local RCM officers are able to navigate.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] — All morgues within RCM precincts are built this way to prevent the theft of corpses. It doesn't stop thieves from attempting, but if they are able to grab the body they want and get out without being spotted, it's almost seen as an accomplishment. It also doesn't make it easy to put the dead bodies into the Morgue in the first place, which is why it often takes a long time to process a corpse.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Formidable: Success] — It's a common hazing ritual for most new RCM hires to make them do errands between the bullpen and the morgue. You spent days before the transfer documents got officially processed remembering all the routes for the Precinct 41 building so you would be well-prepared if they tried to do the same to you.

To your relief, they didn't. Though they did plan it.

HARRY DU BOIS — He whistles a song you don't know for half of the journey. When he stops whistling, he asks the question you've been dreading.

"What's up with you and Lucky?"

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] — You can't help but grit your teeth at the name.

HARRY DU BOIS — "That bad, huh?"

YOU — You sigh a little and adjust your glasses. "Lars Langley is the son of one of the founders of the RCM, Luc Langley. He's not a bad kid. Smart, good with people. Wouldn't hurt a fly. I believe so far in his entire career as a young detective, he's only had to use his gun once, which is pretty impressive when he has to work in the Greater Revachol Industrial Harbour."

HARRY DU BOIS — "But you don't like him."

YOU — "He may have started from the same position as everybody else does, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get some additional 'help'. He's called Lucky in Precinct 57 because he always solves a case. Always. When he doesn't, daddy comes in to sweep everything under the rug or declare it solved anyway. He's the only officer in the RCM so far to have a perfect record. That's how you rise up the ranks, don't you?"

HARRY DU BOIS — "So his father plays favourites and that's why you hate him?"

YOU — "It'd be one thing if he knew, but Lucky is so naïve that he doesn't even realise what his father's doing. He just thinks he's lucky. Thinks it's all his hard work that got him to where he is, that he deserves a higher rank."

HARRY DU BOIS — "You're jealous that he got to the same rank as you in far shorter a time than you."

COMPOSURE [Impossible: Failure] — Your face cracks. A grimace escapes your lips, your fists balled up by your side. Anger ripples through your veins.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] — But you stop and pause. A cool breath is sucked in. Your frustrations are breathed out. You calm down, slowly but surely.

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: Success] — You don't want to say it out loud. You don't want to say you're jealous. Admitting it out loud will just give Harry another weakness to exploit.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] — But Harry already knows.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Easy: Success] — It's far from the worst secret you have. He won't judge you for it.

YOU — "Year after year I'm pushed aside so others may rise up the ranks. And year after year my friends and comrades die a gruesome, early death because they were not capable. They claim my eyesight is the reason why I can't go any higher. I doubt it's the only reason." You can't hide the venom in your voice.

HARRY DU BOIS — Harry nods slowly. "They push you aside. Meanwhile, here I am. Lieutenant double-Yefreitor, and an absolute mess unworthy of my status."

EMPATHY [Heroic: Success] — His tone is somber and dejected. He thinks you deserve to be a higher rank than him.

DRAMA [Legendary: Success] — Of all the people in the world, he holds you in the highest regard, bixia. That includes himself.

YOU — You shake your head at him. "You've worked incredibly hard for so many years. It was inevitable that you'd fall for something to cope. But you're getting better."

HARRY DU BOIS — "And how would you know that?"

YOU — "You're taking it easier—well, relative to your previous workload, if your ledger is to be believed. And you don't stink of Magnesium and alcohol anymore."

PERCEPTION (Smell) [Easy: Success] — He smells quite nice actually. A combination of lemon-scented soap and kebab meat.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] — It'd be even more intoxicating if you got closer. Draw yourself in, get lost in the prismatic disco lights, get wild and boogie down. You know you want to.

HARRY DU BOIS — "I’m trying to cut the habit when I can. And I'm taking it easy because Jean's looking for an excuse to kick my ass to the curb. Doesn't stop me from being a massive screwup."

He breathes out a plume of air. He’s silent for a while. Then, quietly, "You deserve better, Kim."

RHETORIC [Formidable: Success] — He's not just talking about a promotion.

YOU — "I don't deserve better," you say, barely louder than a whisper. "We get what we deserve. That's why I'm here."

HARRY DU BOIS — He turns to stare at you, his piercing gaze taking you apart layer by layer. With his eyes alone he finds the hidden latch to your chest and opens it, holding your lungs with his sweaty, clammy hands. With just a look he has you where he wants you. And what he wants is to know more about you. He has another question on his lips. Another probing question you don't want to answer.

AUTHORITY [Godly: Success] — You turn your head and raise one eyebrow at him. A warning shot. The question burns in his throat and is swallowed down like the disgusting bile it is.

PATH TO THE MORGUE — The two of you walk down the empty path, alone but never truly alone, together but not together, silent but not truly silent. Unspoken words dangle in the air, so crisp and legible you won't need your glasses to help you pluck them out of the sky. It's not an entirely comfortable silence, but it's the most comfortable silence you can have with another person.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] — Harry begins to whistle again, low and melancholic and quiet. The same song he whistled on the swing during the Hanged Man case, or something close enough to it.

YOU — Your puckered lips join in with his melody, and together you create the strangest duet known to mankind.

SHIVERS [Impossible: Success] — The Precinct disappears. The world disappears. All that is left is you and Harry and the song filling the distance between your souls and the whispers of Revachol flowing through your veins.

MORGUE — The morgue, like the rest of the Precinct, has seen better days. It stinks of decay and herbs, no doubt to hide the scent of rotting corpses but it only makes it worse. Once upon a time the room would be white, but the drains near the floors are caked with an unknown substance, and the off-white is more off than white by a number of unknown substances. In other words, an almost spitting replica of the morgue back at Precinct 57.

HARRY DU BOIS — He takes his handkerchief out and retches into it, but does not vomit.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] — It's an ungodly stench, to the point that even you feel the urge to gag, but you swallow tightly and the feeling fades.

HARRY DU BOIS — Harry is not so lucky. He's only able to suppress so much, but a tiny bit of regurgitated kebab spills down his lips. He groans as he wipes it away before it hits the floor, but he does not retch anymore. Miraculously, he's able to stomach it.

YOU — Still, you shake your head at him. "Keep your shit together."

DIENER — "This is Lieutenant du Bois we're talking about. I don't think that's possible."

You turn to observe the only other person in the room. They wear the standard white apron and black garb of a Diener, a mortuary assistant. Their face is sharp and narrow like a blade, and you get the inexplicable feeling that their mind is just as sharp as their face. There's a badge on their lapel with their face and name on it.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Formidable: Failure] — Try as you might, there is no decoding the indecipherable handwriting. You can only assume it's a name.

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] — You're also barely able to decode gender from the person's face. You're unsure if that's a deliberate choice, or if they were born with such an androgynous face and body.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Godly: Success] — It’s becoming a bit of a fashion trend in recent times for the counter culture youth to fight back at the hypersexualisation of women. The more you confuse people about your gender, the better.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Godly: Success] — Highly doubt it’s a fashion statement for the diener though. They've tailored their appearance very carefully to maintain this image. They've done this for years, turned it into an artform.

DIENER — "Lieutenant du Bois, Lieutenant Kitsuragi, I see you two have been partnered up again."

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] — They almost say "good for you" but stop themselves.

DRAMA [Formidable: Success] — They know it would be such an obvious lie, bixia.

YOU — For formality's sake, you flash your badge long enough for the diener to read it. "Lieutenant Kitsuragi and Lieutenant Du Bois. We are here to inquire about a body for a case I’ve been investigating."

DIENER — "Body? What’s the identification number?"

YOU — You look back at your notebook to check. "ID number 248765900."

DIENER — "That one rings a bell. Haven’t you already looked at it twice now?" They raise a skeptical eye at you, then at Harry.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] — Even they have heard about Harry’s infamous amnesia episode. They’re a little envious Harry’s able to forget just like that. And also worried how he’s going to react this time.

HARRY DU BOIS — Before you can reply, Harry cuts in. "I’ve been recently reassigned as Kim’s partner for this case. Need to see it myself."

DIENER — "Just don’t stick your fingers into their ass again," they raise their eyebrows at Harry before heading for the records room, closing the door behind them.

YOU — You slowly turn your head to Harry. "You stuck your fingers inside someone’s ass?"

HARRY DU BOIS — "It was for a case, honest."

RHETORIC [Legendary: Success] — The way he phrases it suggests he’s put his fingers up someone’s ass outside of cases as well. Or even his own.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Failure] — You can feel the sweat drip down your forehead, your ears burning up in surprise and maybe even shame.

ELECTROCHEMISTY [Trivial: Success] — You’ve seen him without his pants before. Those delectable jeans of his don't leave much to the imagination. You fill in the blanks.

YOU — "S-sure, Harry," you say, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else

HARRY DU BOIS — But he’s already moved on to the next topic, head turned to where the Diener disappeared to.

His voice lowers conspiratorially. Barely a whisper. You already know what he's going to say based on that curious look in his eyes. "You think they’re part of the homosexual underground?"

YOU — "I thought I told you to stop obsessing over other people’s sexualities," you whisper back.

HARRY DU BOIS — "I mean…y-yeah, but…"

YOU — "But nothing. It’s not just heterosexuals and homosexuals, you know. There are people who feel no attraction, or only feel a certain type of attraction. There are some people who think beyond the binary of men and women, who change themselves to be more true to how they see themselves." You straighten your back. "As members of the RCM, it is not our place to judge."

HARRY DU BOIS — "And people in the middle?"

YOU — "The middle." Your voice rises slightly in tone but it’s still a statement, not a question.

INLAND EMPIRE — Could it be the great Lieutenant has finally figured out what he is? Or rather, what type of people he’s attracted to?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] — And are we on that list?

HARRY DU BOIS — "You know. People in the middle. Not heterosexual, but not fully a member of the homosexual underground. Like Miss Oranje Disco Dancer."

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] — He’s trying to not-so-subtly hint he’s bisexual.

AUTHORITY [Formidable: Success] — About time.

YOU — "They’re the same. Heterosexual, homosexual, people stuck in the middle, it does not, and should not, change the RCM’s opinion about them." You raise one eyebrow at him.

HARRY DU BOIS — "And what if they’re not exactly right down the middle? What if they’re tipped towards one end but not completely? More towards the heterosexual side."

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] — He’s not asking about the RCM’s opinion. He’s asking for your personal opinion. Whether you would accept him.

YOU — "As I mentioned, the RCM would not judge. But if you’re asking for my personal opinion?"

You pause, carefully deliberating your words. You look him in the eyes and feel dizzy from the glittering disco lights staring right back at you. You have no choice but to look away.

"Khm. I suppose I don’t mind at all."

HARRY DU BOIS — His pale but ruddy face breaks into a grin. It’s a kind, warm smile. A puppy smile. And then, because he has to rub it in, he gives you a wink and some finger guns.

INLAND EMPIRE [Formidable: Success] — Finger guns should be the intersolary symbol for bisexuals, honestly.

DIENER — They promptly return from their office with two folders under each arm, none the wiser of your conversation. A fresh pair of gloves has been placed on their hands.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Formidable: Success] — Why two folders? You only asked for the records of one body.

HARRY DU BOIS — "Hold on, we only asked for the records of one body."

DIENER — "Knowing you, you'd ask me to get the records for both victims." They roll their eyes, as if it's obvious.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] — They're well aware of Harry's insistence of following every lead, no matter how ridiculous.

YOU — You turn to Harry, who has already turned his head to you. The words escape your lips in chorus with one another.

YOU AND HARRY DU BOIS — "Both victims?" You say in unison.

DIENER — They ignore you as they head over to the freezer section, where dead bodies sit in cheap caskets. Each of these corpses are blanketed from their head to their ankles, with only their feet sticking out. Each one has a tag on their pinkie toe of their identification number, as well as the person who checked them, their names and age, and any other important details.

The diener leads you through, past corpse after corpse, until they come to a stop between two corpses. With dramatic gusto, they take the ends of both blankets and pulls them down.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] — They may have been practicing that move for a while.

CORPSE #1 — On your left is the corpse you've written notes about. Corpse #1: Santiago Velez. There's a bit of decomposition on his body, mostly at his hands and feet, but the markings on his chest are identical to the photograph. They're even more gruesome up close.

CORPSE #2 — On your right is a different corpse. A woman, approximately the same age as Corpse #1. There's a gunshot wound to her temple, and similar markings on her chest carved by a knife, except this time there's no second blade to disguise it as Mesque gang iconography. Her tag gives her the name of Sasha Drugova.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] — Apart from their age, they do not resemble each other at all. Corpse #2 has blonde hair and blue eyes and pale skin, but Corpse #1 has tan skin and dark hair and pitch black eyes. The tags suggests they lived in completely different neighbourhoods.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] — You remember thinking this before. You looked into this. They are completely different from each other. The only thing they have in common are the identical cuts on their chest…

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Impossible: Success] — …and a lung-shaped birthmark at the centre of their chest, untouched by the blades.

SHIVERS [Impossible: Success] — You need to remember those birthmarks. You know it's important somehow. A critical clue in this case.

HARRY DU BOIS — He follows your gaze to the birthmark, recognition sparking before his eyes. He puts on a pair of gloves and presses his fingers to the birthmark of Corpse #1, then Corpse #2. He inhales deeply, as if in a trance. His eyes grow pale.

"Where was this body found again?" He points at Corpse #2.

DIENER — They flip through one of the folders. "The burnt-out quarter. On the shore."

HARRY DU BOIS — He points at Corpse #1. "And this one?"

DIENER — They consult the other folder. "Villalobos. At the South."

HARRY DU BOIS — "Near the shore as well?"

DIENER — "Yes, actually. Why do you say that?"

HARRY DU BOIS — "These bodies were supposed to be dumped in the water, to be washed away by the waters, but they didn't stay in the water long. There's water in their lungs still, but it got frozen because of the freezer. And the blade. It had their DNA, but also the DNA of many more people. People we haven't identified yet."

DIENER — They look up at Harry, surpised. "They did, actually."

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: Success] — You know what he's going to say. You're dreading it.

HARRY DU BOIS — "These weren't the only victims, just the most recent two we've found."

YOU — "Which means…"

HARRY DU BOIS — He nods grimly. "We're dealing with serial killings. And if that's the case? I don't think Lucky is alive."

PAIN THRESHOLD [Formidable: Failure] — Your chest hurts. You're seeing blood. You've failed, and this is all your fault.

YOU — You try not to show the shock and fear that strikes you when you're weakest.

COMPOSURE [Impossible: Failure] — But your lips quiver slightly, but pathetically.

YOU — Lucky, wherever you are, I may hate your guts, but…

…I'm sorry for failing you.