#unless she got fingerprinted or dna tested

[helpimstuckposting]

I think yall need to cut Celia some slack. I don’t think she’s this huge all-knowing manipulative mystery. She lost her entire identity and life in the TMA universe, was thrown into a new universe by herself, made her own life, had a baby, and then all of a sudden she started being pulled away from the home she made into the world that left her with amnesia after an apocalypse. Yeah, swapping places with someone else probably isn’t the best morally, but the other doppelgänger straight up murdered his counterpart and she told the computer ‘hmmmm no I don’t think so’

She also repeatedly told Sam they should NOT be going to hilltop, she said it was a bad idea and she TOLD him it was dangerous. She was definitely second guessing her first idea, and she DID like him! There was not one single reason for her to date him and sleep with him and introduce him to her son! All she needed to do was say she’d help him, that man was determined to look into all of this no matter what, they could have just done that as ‘friends’ if she didn’t actually care about him

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

Chapter 39: Doing the Job

He and Mary Margaret talked for well over an hour. This part of the game wasn't difficult; it was simply a balancing act. On the one hand, he wanted to leave Mary Margaret spooked, not terrified, just sufficiently spooked. Enough so that when she got her hands on the skeleton key, then she'd run. On the other hand, he had to be her lawyer and didn't want to appear as if he was trying to scare her. A balancing act like this might be difficult for some, but in this case, it was easy enough for him to accomplish, mostly because all he had to do was tell her the truth.

"Your chances are good because there is no body at the moment," he reassured her. "They can't assume she's dead. They have to know for sure. All they really have is your jewelry box with your fingerprints on it, which can be easily explained. The box belongs to you. It would be odd if it didn't have your fingerprints on it."

"But what about the heart? Emma said they're running DNA."

"Don't worry about that right now."

"Right now, but what…what if it comes back as Kathryn's?"

Which it would…

"Well, if it comes back as Kathyrn's, then that would be bad," he stated clearly. "That would be very bad indeed. Something like that might implicate you."

"But I didn't do anything!" she hissed as her face fell.

"You don't have to tell me, Miss Blanchard. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't. But…if you truly didn't do it, then you should have nothing to worry about. For all we know, some kids broke into the apartment, stole the box, and it's a sheep's heart in there. Could just be some kids playing a prank, and that's the argument I intend to make if this goes to trial."

"Trial!"

"It likely won't get that far. We'll worry about arraignment first; that'll be tomorrow morning unless further evidence against you is brought to light."

"What's that involve?"

"You'll be brought before a judge, the formal charges against you will be read, you'll plead 'not guilty,' bail will be set."

"Bail…I can get out of here."

"Well…in a murder trial, they'd send you to prison because you would be considered a danger, but seeing as how they don't have a body yet…"

"A body…everything hinges on a body, on that heart."

He sighed. "Try to be calm, Miss. Blanchard. It doesn't do to worry about things that may or may not come to pass."

"And what if they do come to pass?"

He resisted the urge to smile again. He didn't want to look like he was trying to spook her, and fortunately for him, she did a fair enough job of giving him a reason to all on her own.

"As I said before, that would be bad. It would implicate you. But we're not going to worry about that for now. One foot in front of the other. You get some rest. Let me do my job."

Immediately following their conversation, he invited himself into the Sheriff's office. "So…how bad is it?" he asked.

Emma glared at him skeptically, her mouth unmoving as she considered his question. She'd done her job well; she'd let the pair of them talk in private as the law required. She'd tried to keep herself busy or otherwise secluded in her office, but he could feel the way she'd watched them. He hadn't ordered her to stop, nor had he told Mary Margaret to stop talking to her as he would a normal client. For someone on trial for murder, talking to the district attorney or the police could potentially be harmful. But Emma just wanted her friend free again. She believed in her innocence. There was nothing wrong with talking to Emma. As for anyone else, Emma was protective enough that she wouldn't let it happen. So that just left the pair of them, two unexpected allies involved in a very complex plan.

"Miss Swan…if this goes to trial, I'll be given everything during discovery," he insisted, reassuring her that talking to him, though it would commonly be considered inappropriate, was exactly what she needed to do in this case. "Besides, sharing information at this stage can only help her. I'm her lawyer, I want her out of jail, and I suspect so do you, Miss Swan, so let's help each other…shall we?"

He saw her gaze adjust over his shoulder to the cell Mary Margaret currently sat in before she sighed. "Heart's still out for DNA testing. It should be back tonight or tomorrow morning. Ruby found it in the woods by the toll bridge, the place she used to meet David. It was in her jewelry box, and her fingerprints were all over it. The heart had marks on it that suggested it was cut with a knife of some kind. I found a knife wrapped in cloth in the heating vent in her room."

"I'll assume you did a thorough search of the area and found any other clues. Has the apartment shown any signs of a break-in?"

"No, it was the first thing I checked. It was clean."

"Who else has access?"

"I have a key, she has a key, no one else."

He raised his eyebrows in interest. "You're sure?"

"I asked," she answered back emotionlessly. That was how the entire conversation had gone thus far. Emma didn't like him. She'd exchange facts, but she wasn't ready for theories yet…at least he assumed that she wasn't.

"Is there anyone in town who has the ability to get into the apartment, anyone who can pick a lock?"

"Normally, I'd be looking at you for something like this," she insisted. "But all things considered-"

"All things considered, I have no reason to want this. No motive," he finished for her. "And if I did this, then it would seem a bit counterproductive to try and get her out of the trouble I put her in."

"Right…"

"So then, the next question you must ask yourself is who does have a motive. Who would want to see an elementary school teacher put in prison for a murder she didn't commit?"

Emma sighed. "At the moment, the only person who would have that motive is Kathryn herself."

"A crime of passion…revenge."

"But seeing as how she's missing and Mary Margaret is here…"

"Well…" he smirked. "You do have your work cut out for you, it seems. I'll expect updates as you get them. It can only help your friend."

"That's what they all say."

"This time, it's true."

He spent the night in his shop. He couldn't bring himself to go home for more than an hour in the morning to bathe and change clothes. Everything that was happening was happening in town. And he wanted to be as close as possible for what was to come next.

That morning was supposed to be Mary Margaret's arraignment. He'd told her that it would happen yesterday unless new charges were brought against her. Last night, there had been new charges. Regina called him in the middle of the night. The glee that she felt was clear in her voice as she told him that the DNA results were a match for Kathryn. She was appreciative, thankful even, for his help in the plan. According to her, she'd left the skeleton key, as he'd instructed in Mary Margaret's cell. It was only a matter of time until she found it and ran. He'd smiled at her foolishness but was smart enough to let her hear it in his tone when he told her that it appeared she was about to get what she wanted. And so it was…it appeared Regina was about to win, which was sure to make her defeat that much sweeter.

Emma was informed of the charges that morning, Mary Margaret's arraignment was postponed until the following morning. Emma was taking on the task of informing his client, and so he hung back at the shop for the day, doing this and that, small tasks to keep himself busy. Polishing was always his go-to chore, even if it made him sad now that he had his memories back. He wished Belle could see him doing such work. His shop was always in disarray, but he knew that she'd be impressed she could pick up a cloth and do some form of polishing. He wondered if he'd like this version of him…Mr. Gold. If she were alive and got to work at the library, he wondered what their interactions would have been like.

It was a nice thought to have. It was a nice vacation for his head to take instead of thinking about everything he was plotting and planning now. It was crazy trying to pull this off without magic. Times like last night, he felt like it was getting to him. It was frustrating and terrifying. Worst of all, he felt like a coward for admitting it.

He heard the bell chime out in the main room, letting him know someone had wandered in. A moment later, he heard a familiar voice call out, "Mr. Gold? You in here?!"

He rolled his eyes at Emma Swan's footsteps and didn't bother to call out to her. Not only was it undignified to shout, but she didn't seem to have a problem going where she wanted to. She'd find him with or without invitation.

"Mr. Gold," Emma stated as he heard the curtain whip back.

"Just taking inventory," he explained, picking up…it was the genie lamp again that had found its way into his hands, making him shudder all over again. How was it Emma Swan always seemed to find him when he had it in his hands? He took a seat at the table he'd been polishing on, but he wasn't going to be so stupid as to not learn from his mistakes. He wouldn't polish it, not this time, perhaps just appearing as though he was appraising it until she left would work.

"What can I do for you, Miss Swan? Any developments in the case I should be aware of?"

"Yes," the girl breathed frantically. Was that a hint of frustration in her voice? "Regina set her up."

Excellent. "And this surprises you?" he questioned, trying to be careful not to smile or reveal any shock on his face at all. He didn't want to discourage her from going down this road. He wanted to encourage her. "Show me your evidence, and we'll get this over with immediately."

"Yeah, that's the thing," she breathed heavily, leaning against the desk herself. He knew that look, that haunted frustrated gaze. It was a woman who knew the truth but felt powerless. Good. That was motivation. "There isn't any. Anything that's court-worthy. But I know it now."

He smiled. So now she trusted him. Whether or not that trust was well placed for the future, it wasn't just a good thing but a necessary thing in this situation.

"Look who's suddenly become a woman of faith. Why are you here, Miss Swan? To spin conspiracy theories?"

"I need help."

He chuckled appropriately. "From me?"

"Every time I've gone up against Regina, I've lost. Except for once…when I became Sheriff, when you helped."

"As I recall, you don't exactly approve of my methods."

"I approve of your results. And this time, I have something more important than a job. I need to save my friend."

Excellent. Magic or not, he had her right where he wanted her, right where he needed her. This was almost as good as he knew it would feel on the day he finally had her standing before him, ready to kill a dragon for a potion. Almost, but not quite. They still had work to do before they were there yet. The question was how much work. "And you're willing to go as far as it takes?"

"Farther."

"Now we're talking," he smiled. Not much farther at all then. "Fear not, Miss Swan," he breathed, picking up a magnifying glass to examine the lamp closer for no reason at all. "Regina may be powerful, but something tells me you're more powerful than you know."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions for how to exercise that power because right now, everything seems pretty bleak. So…what do we do."

He sighed. "Now…now you do your job, and I'll do mine. Her arraignment will be tomorrow morning before the judge. Either one of us will find something useful, or…both of us will. Care to wish on it?" He offered the genie lamp to her on a whim, but as soon as he'd offered, he realized the danger of what he'd done.

Fortunately, Emma glanced down at the lamp with irritation as if she was upset that was all he had to offer and then turned to leave.

"Have you talked to Sidney lately?" he called out before she could make it through the curtain.

She stopped and turned back to him. "Sidney? Sidney Glass?"

"Well…he used to be Regina's right-hand man, an investigative journalist. It seems to me that if she were to trust anyone, it might be him. The pair of you parted on good terms, if I recall. Might not hurt to have a few allies."

Emma paused for a second as if to consider that fact. Then she let out a sigh and left his shop, not in aggression but determination. He smiled as he got up to put the lamp away and out of reach. He hadn't wished on anything, but if he had, it would have been for what had just happened.

[lovemesomerafael]

It’s Complicated                       Chapter 6:  A Little Too Easy

Source: @kendaspntwd

Chapters 1-5        Story on AO3

Amanda Rollins noticed Rafe Rojas the second he walked into the squad room.  Only a man who lived in jeans could make them fit like that.  And the squint lines around his dark eyes did something to her down low.  He was the lean, cowboy type – well, he was a literal cowboy – she absolutely could not resist.  His hat was well-worn and didn’t disguise the shagginess of his thick, dark hair.  She didn’t mean to come on to him.  She liked Frankie, and Frankie was in deep shit. But her older brother was basically sex in cowboy boots.  So Amanda got real Southern, real fast, the minute she stepped up to Rafe to introduce herself.  Sure, Porter was standing next to him and could have made the introductions.  But Amanda’s ovaries were in charge.  Or some part of her female anatomy, anyway.  

“We’re on our way out to Riker’s,” Porter explained.  “We just stopped by to give you guys a chance to ask any questions you may have thought of.”

“Nikki OK with that?”

“Nikki might not be aware of it,” Porter muttered.  “And your lives might be easier if you didn’t mention this visit to Stone, either. Unless something good comes out of it.  But I trust you guys.  I know you’re on Frankie’s side.  ”  

Dodds introduced himself to Rafe, who was a few inches shorter and a few shades darker.  Rafe’s voice was deep and Amanda thought she detected just the slightest twang, like a delicate spice that gave a tasty dish just the right, subtle kick.  

For several minutes, the group discussed anything in Frankie’s past that might be either helpful or hurtful, but there was nothing.  She was who she was.  She had no skeletons, no previous arrests (knife-related or otherwise), and no history of any kind of violence, unless having a hair-trigger temper and a sharp tongue counted. Rafe couldn’t help the case, except to reassure them that there were no surprises in his sister’s past waiting to trip her up.  

Porter and Rafe left shortly thereafter.  Amanda could feel her thighs quiver when Rafe touched his hat to her and said, “Miss,” as he left.  Amanda was positive he gave her a subtle wink along with his nod.  She stood just a little too long watching the hallway after they’d turned the corner toward the elevators.  

 *********************

Porter ran interference with the guard at Riker’s who tried to keep Rafe from hugging his little sister. He felt responsible for his friend being in prison for a crime she didn’t commit, and he wasn’t about to deny her the small comfort of a hug from her brother.  

“You all right, Snot-rocket?”  Rafe asked, sitting down next to Frankie.  

“Y-yeah,” Frankie stuttered, trying desperately not to cry.  

Rafe pulled her head to his shoulder, and Porter signaled to the guard to let them be.  

“Everybody sends their love. They’re pissed at you for tellin’ ‘em not to come, but they get it.”

“I can’t-“

“They know.  They treatin’ you OK in here?”

“Yeah.  It’s fine.  My lawyer knows some of the guards, and she has some clients in here, so…”

“Can’t say I’m too impressed with a lawyer whose clients are in prison.”

Frankie gave the tiniest laugh, then sniffled.  “She’s good. She’ll get me out of here.”

“Yeah, she will.  And if she don’t, me n’ the guys’ll stage a jailbreak.  Always wanted to do that.”  

“Don’t even joke about that in here,” Frankie told him.

“Ain’t jokin’.  So listen, Porter only got us five minutes, so I don’t wanna waste it.  Just… you need anything?  You need me to do anything?”

“No, there’s nothing. Dean gave you the keys to my apartment?”

“Yeah.  I’ll take care of it for you until you get home.  You just hang in, all right?  Porter’s gonna find that kid.  I met your team at SVU, and they seem like they got their shit together.  We got you, OK?”

“OK.”

“By the way, I’m gonna marry that Amanda.”

“She’s way too good for a snot-rocket like you.  But you go ahead and try.”    

 ********************

Things started to get strange about eight O’Clock the next morning.  Peter Stone got a call in his office.  Based on an anonymous tip, Detectives Carisi and Tutuola had picked up Juwon Jefferson and had him in custody.  And he was talking.  

He was a different kid than Stone had seen on the tapes of his first interrogation.  For one thing, he was a mass of bruises and cuts.  For another, he was giving them real information. The attitude was still on full display, and he was definitely not happy to be there.  But at least they had him, and for whatever reason, he was ready to tell them everything he knew about Alan Canady.  In part, Stone believed his story that Canady had been a truly evil son of a bitch, and now that he was dead, Juwon could safely say so.  But there was no way that was the whole story.  

“Yeah, man, I tol’ the Doc to go see the motherfucker, gave her the message he was gonna barbecue her boyfriend if she didn’t show up.  Ain’t nothin’ illegal ‘bout that.  I just delivered a message.”

“Did he pay you?”  Stone asked.

“Yeah, man, you think I play messenger boy for my health?”  

“Why did he want to see Dr. Rojas?”

“He said he was gonna fuck her up.  Said he was gonna do hisself, make it look like she done it.  Guess that’s pretty much what he done, ain’t it?  That’s bad-ass, man.  Stabbin’ yo’self.  That’s cold.”

Stone rolled his eyes. This was all way too convenient. Out of the blue, they get an anonymous tip and this kid who hadn’t cooperated at all is suddenly telling them the exact same wildly implausible story the suspect told?  And he just happened to be covered with injuries?  No.  Somebody got to this kid, and he was either getting something huge out of this, or they had something big over him.  Either way, Stone wasn’t about to let Rojas walk on the word of this little tweaker alone.

“Why should I believe you?” Stone asked, looking hard at the kid.

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me.  It’s that rich bitch doctor sittin’ in Rikers, not me.”

The kid had talked quite a bit about Alan Canady’s rapes of the three women.  That, at least, they could prove.  The kid’s evidence gave them probable cause to test Canady’s DNA against the rape kits, which was being done right that moment.  Stone thought blackly that it wasn’t like it was hard to collect Canady’s DNA - it was pooled all over the floor in that cheap motel room. But that still didn’t prove who had killed Canady, and it didn’t answer why this kid was suddenly in custody and talking.  Stone was suspicious of anything this neat and easy.

 ****************

Later that day, Stone stopped by Barba’s office.  Barba was sitting at his desk, tapping a pen and staring off into space.  

“Thinking deep legal thoughts?”  Stone grinned.

“Shallow ones, anyway. What can I do for you?”

“I wanna talk about this Rojas case.”

Barba frowned.  “You can’t talk to me about that case.”

“Not about the case itself, just…  Hypothetically, what would you say if you had a case with a very hard to find, reluctant, unreliable witness, who suddenly gets found by an ‘anonymous source’ and starts singing like a canary?”  Stone made himself comfortable in one of the chairs in front of Barba’s desk.

“I’d smell a rat. Especially if this suddenly cooperative witness is a junkie.”

“He is. Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically. Look, I’m in an impossible spot here. You know that.  I know Francisca Rojas didn’t kill Alan Canady.”

“You don’t know that, and neither does anyone else except Canady.  And he’s not talking.”

“I have instincts, same as you.  And I know this woman.”

“You’ve known this woman for a whole month.  And you’re fucking her.  Tends to mess with the instincts, Barba.”

Rafael shot Stone an irritated look and gave a snort of annoyance.  “What, exactly, do you want from me here?  There’s no way she did it.  I know that.  But if you’re asking me whether you can believe this tweaker’s sudden conversion to the light, I’d say no.  So you get all the information you can out of him, and you check it all out, and you prove she didn’t do it with that evidence.”

“What the hell’s happened to everyone around here?  Since when are we in the business of proving someone didn’t do a crime?”  Stone snapped.

“Since always.  We prove the truth, not just what we want to be true.  That’s why I’m saying don’t buy the tweaker’s story.  I’d like Franci-  Dr. Rojas out of Riker’s today.  But you have a job to do, and that means you need to be right.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Stone smirked, getting up.  

“That’s what I’m here for. Get her out.  Soon.  But do it the right way.”

Rafael was troubled.  The tweaker was back and now he was talking? What had she done?  Or what had been done on her behalf?  

 **********

The DNA matched.  Alan Canady was the Pattern 20 rapist. Unfortunately, that didn’t prove who had killed him.  Nothing did. The autopsy was consistent with either Canady stabbing himself or someone else stabbing him; it was inconclusive either way.  And both his fingerprints and Frankie Rojas’s were on the knife.  True, Canady had no defensive wounds, but she could simply have gotten a lucky shot before he realized what was happening.  Because Barba’s building had no security cameras, there was no way to prove that Canady or Jefferson had somehow gotten in and stolen the knife.  From an evidence standpoint, that meant it was equally likely that either Frankie had killed Canady, or he had done it himself.  

In the end, the Manhattan DA’s office had no choice but to drop the charges against Frankie Rojas.  With the tweaker kid’s testimony, there was simply too much reasonable doubt for Nikki Staines to work with.  Nikki had actually been in the office the day the decision was made, raising holy hell and making Peter Stone’s life miserable.  Stone wasn’t happy about any of it – he felt like they had been played by someone who had gotten to the tweaker kid, but he couldn’t prove it, and he had other cases he could prove.  So they dropped the charges and Nikki blew up the phones at Riker’s as she drove out to collect her client, making sure they would have her processed out and ready when Nikki arrived.  

She called Dean Porter from her car.  “You heard?”

“Yeah.  Can I go pick her up?”

“I’m on my way now. But listen.  I’m never gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, but Stone thinks he got played, and I can’t blame him.  Is there anything I should know about that Jefferson kid?  It does seem like he had a pretty sudden, and violent, change of heart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. I just want to know I’m not gonna get any surprises, and my client isn’t either.”

“You won’t.  I swear to you, Nikki, it’s all above board.  The kid was telling the truth.”

“Yeah, but why was he telling the truth?”

“You know what?  Take the win.  It’s all good.”

“It better be.  You got a lot to lose these days.”

“Yeah, life is good. And I wouldn’t jeopardize that. We didn’t do anything to the tweaker kid that’s gonna hurt us.  Or you. Or Frankie.”

“You didn’t, huh? Then who’s ‘we’?”

“Did I say ‘we’?  I meant ‘I’.  Hey, Nikki, my other line is ringing.  I gotta answer that.  Nice working with you.”

***************

Frankie was pretty sure she was being set up.  She didn’t really like it, given what she’d just been through, but it was hard to find a basis to complain.  Her brother and Amanda had become very… close, and were both claiming that, since he was planning to fly back to Austin in the morning, it was their last opportunity to spend time together.  So, as badly as they felt about it – yeah, sure, she thought – they wondered whether Frankie would mind spending one more night at Barba’s.  Besides which, all her things were at Barba’s.  And they claimed already to have set it up with him.  

Frankie dimly felt that it was bizarre for people who loved her to be worrying about romance, their own or hers, after she had just been in prison for murder.  But she was exhausted.  She’d barely eaten or slept in the five days since her arrest, and she’d been in an emotional spin-cycle the entire time.  The truth was, she wanted two things.  She wanted to take a shower for about a week, followed by a soak in a bathtub for a month.  And she wanted Barba.  

She hadn’t spoken to him since her arrest.  He’d retained Nikki for her, and she’d had messages from him through Porter, but that had been all he could do.  Now that she was about to see him again, she was in a turmoil of different emotions.  She felt physically hideous and soiled, and she felt emotionally battered and horribly ashamed.  She thought she was far too needy to be going to stay with a man she knew as little as she knew Barba.  But, apparently, she was the only one who felt that way, because he was waiting for her when Nikki pulled up at the curb in front of his building.

He looked absolutely delectable to her.  Gorgeous and kind and caring and opening his arms to her before she was all the way out of the car, even though all she had to wear home was the terrible sweats they’d given her at the M.E.’s office when they’d taken her bloody clothes.  Nikki smiled broadly at Rafael as he moved to push the car door closed, cradling Frankie in his arms.  

“Thank you,” he mouthed.

“My pleasure,” she replied, waving.  She liked the idea of Barba owing her one.

Rafael gently guided Frankie through the door to the lobby, and held her while they waited for the elevator.  

“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” she mumbled into his shirt.  She hadn’t looked at him, really, as she’d climbed out of Nikki’s car, just put her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.  

“I would have come to your place, if you hadn’t come here.  Even with your brother there.  I want to help.  I’ve felt so fucking useless these past days…”

She squeezed him, hard. “You called Nikki.  You shouldn’t even have done that.  That was everything.”

“I know you didn’t kill him, Francisca.”

“No, you don’t.  No one does, except me and him.  But I didn’t.  I swear it.”

“Still arguing with me…” he said with a grin, as he led her into the elevator, still with her arms clasped to him and her face buried. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was wonderful to have her in his arms again, to be able to comfort her as he’d been aching to for days.  But the way she was clinging to him spoke of a depth of fear and anguish that he’d only guessed at.  He was intensely grateful she had come to him so that he could help her through it.  He was honored that his fresa, usually so dauntless and fiery, and now so crushed and wounded, would allow herself to be this vulnerable with him.  He vaguely realized that he would do anything for this woman in his arms, but he paid little attention to the thought, as he thought about what he could do to help her begin to recover from her ordeal.

She released him from her arms when he closed the door behind them, but stayed right next to him.

“I’m guessing you’d like the longest, hottest shower in the history of the world,” he suggested.  

“I’d give my left arm for that,” she sighed softly.

“No charge for guests. You go get in the shower, and I’ll bring you a drink.”

“Do you happen to have any scotch?”

Rafael couldn’t help but laugh at that.  Everyone knew about Rafael Barba and scotch.  He was a little amused by this evidence that they really hadn’t known each other that long.  “I have scotch.”

When he had poured a scotch for each of them, he hesitated outside the door to his bathroom for a moment. He could hear the water running, and see billows of steam floating lazily into the bedroom.  But he was suddenly unsure what she was expecting. Did she want privacy?  Should he wait for her to come out?  Well, he’d told her he was going to bring her a drink.  Besides, he realized, the steam was escaping into the bedroom because she had left the door ajar.  He knocked tentatively and pushed the door open a little.

“Francisca?  I brought your drink.”  

She didn’t respond. He noticed the sweatshirt and pants she’d been wearing wadded up on the floor.

“What do you want me to do with these sweats?”

It took her a second to answer.  “Bonfire,” she finally said in a choked voice.  

He was sure he heard a sob. He didn’t hesitate, but stepped into the room, set his drink on the counter, and pulled the shower curtain back just enough to see her.  Her hands were splayed on the tile wall and she was leaning on both arms, head hanging, crying hard and trying to be silent about it.

“Oh, mi fresa,” he said, pulling the curtain back and stepping, fully clothed, into the shower to take her into his arms.  She instantly let out a groan of agony, turning into him and clinging to him as she sobbed into his shoulder.  He held her drink just outside the spray of the shower.  

For long minutes, he just held her and let her cry, while the hot water cascaded down and soothed her. He didn’t realize he had begun to hum softly to her until she turned her face into his neck, muttering, “That’s nice.”

When she seemed to be done crying, he moved them a bit to the side and held the glass to her.  “Here, drink this,” he said softly, not letting go of her.  She downed its contents in one gulp and handed it back to him.  He smiled.  

When he felt her arms loosen around him, he reached behind her and set the glass down on the shower’s built-in tile shelf.  He took a bottle of shampoo and poured a little into his hand.  Moving her just a bit backward out of the spray, he began to shampoo her hair.  She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, the slightest smile touching her lips. When he was done, he moved her under the spray to rinse her hair and began to soap her body.  He tried not to make it sexual, given the situation and the fact that he was still wearing all of his now-soaked clothes.  But it wasn’t easy.  He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she moved into his hands from time to time. He conditioned her hair when he’d finished washing her, and moved her once again under the spray to rinse out the conditioner.  

“MMmmmmmm,” she said. “This feels so nice.”

“That’s the point,” he said, leaning down without thinking and kissing her.  

He was just preparing to be concerned about pushing her when she reached to put a hand behind his head and wind her fingers in his wet hair, pulling his mouth harder on hers.  After thoroughly kissing him, she looked into his eyes for the first time since she’d arrived.  

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  And I mean that in a number of different ways. I like having you here, and I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she said.  “Can we take a bath?”

“Of course we can.”

“And… will you please take your clothes off?  I don’t care what you do when you’re alone, but I refuse to take a bath with a clothed man.”

Rafael put his forehead to Frankie’s.  “No, I won’t take them off.  But you’re welcome to, if you want.”

“Oh, you’re a pain in the ass, Barba.”  She kissed him again and began undressing him.  

When she had his clothes off, he quickly washed his hair and turned the dial that turned off the shower and began to fill the tub.  Pulling back the curtain, he picked up the pile of wet clothes and wrung them out as best he could, then tossed them across the bathroom into the sink to be dealt with later.  

“You get comfortable.” He said.  “I’ll be right back.”

Rafael quickly padded out to his kitchen and retrieved the bottle of scotch, bringing it to the bathroom and setting it down next to the tub where Frankie was pouring some shampoo under the water to make bubbles.  He took his glass from the counter, lifted hers from the shelf in the shower, and put them on the edge of the bathtub, then stepped into the water. She moved to let him get seated behind her, then scooted between his legs and relaxed against his chest. 

He poured some scotch into her glass and handed it to her, then picked up his own.  He wrapped one arm around her and she held his arm with hers. They sat in the rapidly-filling tub and sipped in silence.  

When the tub was full, Frankie used her foot to turn off the water and turned herself so that she was lying on her side, her cheek on his chest, and could put both arms around him.

“I love you,” she murmured, eyes closed and smiling.  

Rafael kissed the top of her head, wondering whether she could possibly have meant what she’d just said. She lay quietly, seemingly perfectly satisfied with no response other than a kiss.  She’d had two drinks – he had only poured a couple of fingers each time, but he had no idea when the last time she’d slept or eaten was, and for all he knew, she was asleep right this second.  Maybe she didn’t even know she’d said it.  He decided that’s what it was.  His chest felt warm anyway, and it wasn’t just because of the scotch.  

He thought he dozed a little, lying there holding her in the hot, bubbly water.  He was gently nudged back into consciousness when she shifted between his legs and mumbled, “It’s getting cold.”

“You want to put in some more hot water?”

“Mmmmmm, I want to be in bed.  I don’t want to get out of this tub and move to the bed.  I just want to be in bed without that part.”

“I’d like to do that for you, mi fresa, but I don’t think I possess that particular skill.”

She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled.  “OK, we’ll do it the hard way.”

They helped each other to stand and climb out of the tub, and Rafael wrapped Frankie in a deliciously large, fluffy towel.  She was too sleepy to comment, but she made a mental note to compliment him on his taste in towels – and scotch – in the morning.  Neither bothered much with their hair – Rafael just toweled his off and Frankie twisted hers into a quick bun on top of her head.  They quickly brushed their teeth, leaning on one another, and were cuddled together in bed very soon thereafter, arms around one another and her head cradled on his shoulder.  

In the soft light coming through the window, Frankie looked up at Rafael.  She lifted her lips to kiss his jaw and he turned his head to take her lips between his.  He was a bit surprised when she subtly shifted her body and opened her mouth to his, sliding her hand down his side to his hip and thigh, angling her caress until she was softly cupping him in her hand.  

“Barba?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Will you please make love to me?”

“Anything for you.”

He followed her lead, going slowly and touching her softly, never taking his mouth from hers, even when whispering endearments and praise.  Her soft moan as she came with him inside her was pure enchantment, and he was almost positive it contained a whispered, “I love you.”

[chaniters]

Blood in the water

Part 8 of @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac’s series. 

Awan mixes out some detective and thieving along with Steel and Anathema. 

Tried to write up something a bit funnier this time too!

___________________________________________

“It’s like she’s everywhere now,” Anathema says watching Elyise’s billboard trough the car’s window. This isn’t the first sign you’ve seen, they’re all over the highways and TV. This one is massive, displaying her in a power pose in full costume. The fine print states her new slogan, which she accidentally said in an interview. If you recall she was crying about her mother’s death as the reporter kept pushing the questions “It’s not the powers or the cape that define a hero, but the sacrifices they decide to make”

“Reaper’s investing lots of money on her career,” you say leaning back. With Steel on the wheel and Anathema on the companion’s seat, you’ve got the whole backseat to yourself. “He’s even become her manager. I talked to him, and he says he thinks she can carry off his legacy now that he's’ retired.”

“Well, she’s amazing right?… Fighting her own supervillain mother… I thought that shit only happened in the movies they make”

“Not anymore,” Steel says taking a turn off the highway.  “And there’s already a movie in the works”

“Already?” you ask

“Yes. She’s a real inspiration. Doing things by the book all the time, even if it means fighting her own. Registered as a hero in under a week. Unlike some other people.” you can feel his gaze squinting at you through the mirror.  

“Well maybe you should ask her to join the Rangers” You say looking back.

“That’s a very real possibility” he answers dryly.

Eventually, Anathema breaks the uncomfortable silence that follows. 

“So what do we know about this scene?”

“Nine dead. And they’re saying it’s not pretty so I hope you didn’t have too much for breakfast” Steel answers “Because we’re almost there” 

-----------Half an hour later------------------

“This is fucked up,” you say circling around the bloodstains. Forensics already took samples and pictures so you have free reign over the scene. This isn’t the worst you’ve seen considering your past, but the killings in this warehouse are not something you’ve seen before.

“It’s really bad,” Anathema says looking at the corpse on the floor and the stains on the wall. “But I bet Steel’s seen worse right?” he adds nervously.

“No kid, he’s right” Steel answers looking at a severed hand, nearly split in two between the fingers. “This really fucked up. You have to be a really sick bastard to go all the way about actually dismembering people” 

Anathema goes silent, his first time in a murder scene bloody enough to put Steel off his game. He’s clearly feeling the pressure but trying to keep appearances while you and Steel are unphased. 

“Annie, why don’t you go talk to the forensics team, see if they can get us a first hand on the DNA results when they’re done?” you ask “We could end up catching the culprit from the database alone.”

“Aahh.. sure! I’ll go do that!” he says walking off trying not to look too relieved. 

Steel approaches, speaking in a lower tone as Anathema goes outside.

“You beat me to it”

“It’s good enough that he didn’t throw up in here.”

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen anything like this, even during the war. It’s sickening. And it makes me wonder what’s the worst thing you’ve seen Sidestep because you’re going through this mess like it was a walk in the park”

You frown lightly. Always looking for clues, this one. Can’t let your guard down for a minute. 

“It’s usually the living you should be scared off” 

“True enough. You’re the detective, or so you claim. What do you make of this?” 

Your gaze runs trough the crime scene slowly as you describe what your instincts are telling you.

“Seven males, two females, all dead and the cause seem to be severe, brutal slashing cuts. I haven’t seen a single stab wound, this isn’t knives we’re dealing with. Some sort of sword perhaps? The assailant also must be of incredible strength, enough to dismember with clean cuts, going straight through the bone. Went through them like paper” 

Steel nods slowly, seeing what you see as you continue your assessment

“The victims had an impressive array of firearms, and two of them are modded with extra strength” you add glancing at a thorn mechanical arm “And what’s more, they fought back as hard as they could. The attacker came trough this window, and their response must have been almost immediate” you point to the numerous bullet holes and cracks on the wall by the window. 

“The attacker did not use a gun, or at least none of the victims was shot, so unless it was bullet-proof we’re most likely going to get a clear sample of their DNA around one of the bloodstains on this wall. I mean, every shot here must have been aimed at them.” 

“They used heavy ammo too,” Steel says running a finger through a large crack. 

“I’ll defer to you on that, you’re the specialist. How much firepower would you say the victims were packing?”  

“Let’s just say they would have put my armor to the test”

“Now that’s unnerving. Alright, so the attacker broke in, messed them up while they kept shooting at it, broke through here, and entered this hidden room which they somehow knew was here, then stole everything inside these medical-supply boxes and finally jumped down the street this way” you say looking through the broken window.  

“Impressive” Steel nods “And It could be just right I'd say.” 

“There’s more. They had tons of guns, were hiding in a nowhere apartment on the bad side of town in a semi-abandoned building,  and they had a secure room hidden behind a false wall with broken needles and medical supplies behind them. I’m going to make a wild guess: They were dealers. Hero-drug dealers that is. That’s why the boxes are empty. The attacker took the drugs”

“You can’t be sure they were dealing hero-drugs” Steel complains

“Not from the scene. But look through the window” you say looking down. He joins you trying to see what you see. 

“You know who that is, right?” you say pointing at the stout figure with the top hat.  It waves back with a jovial smile revealing sharp shark-like teeth as it walks to the building’s entrance... 

“You’re right. Hero drugs it is. No way in hell Hollow Ground’s number one stooge would show up here otherwise.”

“We’ll need to talk to him. Lewie doesn’t show up to these things for nothing. This definitely must be one of HG’s places.”

Steel sighs. “Do we have to?” 

“He’s the only one who might know who did this”

“Agreed. But he won’t say a word to us. He must be just showing up to assess the damage. I bet he owns the building, that’s always his excuse”

“I can take Annie and then see what we can find meeting him at his office? He doesn’t really know us well. An I know you can’t stand talking to the guy”

Steel squints at you. “Are you trying to make me owe you one?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terrible if you helped out next time I need something”

He studies you with a calculating gaze for a moment.

“Fine. You and Anathema go for it, he makes me want to squish his head every single time he gets within arms distance after the things he pulled on us”

“So you’ll owe me one?”

“I’ll think about it” he offers, but you know it’s a yes. 

“Great! Enjoy your crime-scene big guy” 

________Later, that afternoon____________

“Smells like fish in here. Can I open a window?” you ask without waiting for a response as you simply open it yourself.  

The big, shark-faced person sitting in front of you squeezes his plastic cup with a huge scaled hand while holding the forms you presented in the other one. Fish references are no to his liking it seems.  Anathema’s just reading a magazine on traveling he found in the reception room. 

“So let me get this straight Sidestep… You want a loan from me, for the purpose of -and I quote-  “Fucking fighting crime hell yeah”, but you won’t give me your real name, or your social security number. In the “Gender” item you just wrote “Enemy of the Patriarchy” and your occupation just states “Kicking evil’s ass”. No assets to your name, no previous employments, references, no bank accounts, insurance or anything. Also no driver’s license. … hm... And let’s not forget your address “1234 Chicken Dinner Road”. Excuse me but I’m not sure that’s an actual road here in Los Diablos…”

“Ok fine, maybe I don’t have all my paperwork with me, but I’m totally reliable!” you whine from your chair. 

 “I know you think I’m dying to get every hero to enjoy one of our exclusive loan products but this is really stretching it. Perhaps if you offered some fingerprints or took off your mask, we could…”

“Sorry! I think I got glue on my hands while putting on the costume today. Do you see? Can’t take it off” you say pretending to try.

He narrows his gaze at you, his annoyment palatable in your mind. 

“Do I kick them out boss?” Debra, the modded thug standing on the corner says looking at the two of you.

“I’m really really busy Sidestep. Perhaps it’s time you and your friend hit the road?” 

“What? You haven’t even read Anathema’s form yet!” 

“He’s just wasting your time!” Debra complains

“Not true! Anathema’s the one who wanted it, I just wanted to see how good my credit is… sorry. I just never asked for a loan before. Maybe I’ll do it better next time?”  you talk back.

“He’s asking for a loan too?” Lewie says turning to him, losing all pretense about being interested in you. Giving a loan to a ranger would be great publicity to him 

“What?” Anathema snaps out of his magazine as he’s mentioned.

“Of course he is. For his vacations. He’s taking several friends on a cruise for a few good weeks of wild fun, you know, the really good stuff.  And we know you've organized some of the best cruises for your own friends. Maybe you can help him out?”

“Well I have on occasion been known to organize legendary cruises, that’s true,” the Loanshark says with a smile that aims to be cordial but just looks plain murderous. He’s vulnerable to flattery, you sensed as much. 

“Dear Sidestep. What the heck are you doing to me?” Anathema whispers gently at your ear pulling back at your suit’s shoulder fabric. 

“What does it look like I'm doing my dear friend Annie? Getting you a free vacation” you whisper back with an equally charming tone, smiling at Debra and the Loanshark as if this were your normal interactions. You’re also sending them a mental command to distract them from the whispering because sharks have a very good hearing of lower sounds. 

“Yes, I know that. But have you considered I don’t want to ask for a loan from a literal loan shark?” he says pulling you even closer.

“Remember the time I got the wrong door and accidentally entered Steel’s room once and he had a two-hour fit? Well to get back at him I stole his ranger manual and sort of never gave it back. I’ve been studying your regulations, and you’re allowed extraordinary expenses during investigations. This is an investigation, and the loan is an extraordinary expense. You can have the Ranger’s pay for it” 

“That can’t be a real thing,” he says squinting at you. 

“Perhaps you forgot the time Ortega went to investigate those mobsters in the casino and lost all that money on the dice table to overhear their conversation…?”

“Uh… that’s not... right”

“Of course it’s not, but it’s legal,” you say handing the Loanshark the paperwork you filled in for Anathema

“Ohh what have we here” the Loanshark goes over the forms. “Now this is a completely different story” he adds going over the pages. “We can do things kid. Great things! How many grands do you need for this cruise…?” he says standing up “Have you gone over destinations yet?” 

“Ehr... no?” Anathema goes on.

“Give him the whole speech Lewie. I don’t think he’s ever had so much money at once before, least of all spent it”

“I will! Come here my new best friend!” he says patting his back “Follow me to the other office. We have to discuss this over drinks. Me and the rangers! I knew it would happen one day. We’re going to talk business!”

“I’ll be out of your hair Lewie... I’ll show myself out” you say sending another distracting command, specifically to Debra this time. 

“Wonderful, wonderful. Your friend leaves you in good hands Anathema. This way please”

“... help…?” Anathema whimpers as the Loanshark guide him away. 

You head out to the streets pretending to leave while actually maintaining the mental command to distract Debra so she doesn’t make sure you’ve walked far enough. She just acts as if you had already left for good. 

Perfect. 

As they turn a corner, you start climbing the rooftops making your way back. A single push of a button activates the scrambler you had prepared for The Void, freezing all the Cameras in a loop, while turning the alarms in the building offline. You knew that thing would come in handy. A single jump and you enter trough his office’s window. That’s why you opened it from the inside it in the first place. 

Time for the fun part. Snooping around his stuff…

You sensed stray thoughts about his ledger being in the room. It takes a few moments before you find the safe, hidden under the carpet. The hatch’s lock is relatively easy to pick, but the computerized code lock on the actual safe is not. 

It takes a painfully long amount of fiddling before you manage to plug in the cellphone you modified to the electronic lock. Normally a lock like this would be impossible to crack, but you’ve got access to the farm’s top-of-the-line black-ops decryption protocols programs… another thing Nathaniel thaught you. 

It had been a while since you felt this thrill… They could get back and find you anytime. A quick scan reveals Debra hasn’t returned to the security desk yet, preferring to check on Anathema.  He seems to be playing along with your plan, distracting the Loanshark just long enough for….

*Bleep* the lock goes, as the safe opens. 

“Yes!” you whisper to yourself as you check the contents. 

Several ledgers, and a few labeled data-rods. And a lot of money. You get to work immediately, taking quick pictures of each page with your phone. It takes a painfully long time, but you have to do it, the Loanshark’s old-school and he believes nothing’s safe inside a computer so everything he knows about Hollow Ground’s operations should be here. 

You sense they’re about to be done with their chat as you finish the last pages. 

You scramble to check out the data-rods. The labels are all names of relatively known people…politicians, and some heroes. You notice several dedicated to Ortega. One reads “Public drunkness, barging at the casino”. Another one goes “Unlawful arrest of citizen -me- claiming he’s blackmailing witnesses”. The next one goes “Crazed claims about me working for Hollow Ground and threats of violence”. And the last one simply reads “Marshall Charge, getting to second base with Lady Blades”.

Wow. Lady Blades? That villain was one of Ortega’s first enemies when he was just a sidekick. Clearly the Loanshark is digging dirt on Ortega and has found a fair share of it. It’s not a real surprise since Lewie is the closest thing Hollow Ground has to a spokesperson, and Ortega’s been trying to get him to talk for ages. 

You’re about to close the safe when one last rod catches your interest. Its label reads “Riley.  Ask first before using”. So he’s got dirt on her too? Weird since she’s only just now become a public hero persona. The Loanshark would never admit to having a boss. Hollow Ground doesn’t officially exist. Whom else could he ask about this? And it says Riley, not Elyise? 

The rod could contain anything, and this could ruin her chances of entering the rangers. You’re not going to let him blackmail her. You plug the data-rod and copy it as well before setting it back. You’re not sure why you’re doing this even... There’s something funny about this being in the Loanshark’s safe. 

Time to free all these people from his clutches. 0

You take a small device from your inner pocket and set it into the safe around the data-rods. A press of the button and it starts buzzing before emitting an electrical discharge that fries all the electronics inside.

The Loanshark might find out it was you at some later point, but you’re not going to let him keep dirt on half the city. Charge and Elyise can thank you later. 

Footsteps approaching… you get out through the window, jump off a few rooftops and land on the streets before deactivating your scrambler, the alarms inside his building going back online. You don’t sense anything from Debra so they don’t suspect. 

Turning around the block, you find Anathema waiting for you nervously.

“Did you get it?” he asks as you approach

“Oh, I got it. And some extras too”

“Great. Because he’s waiting for me to make a final decision about the loan”

“So are you going to take it?” you smile

“ Of course not! I’m not going to owe anything to that asshole!” 

“Well, I could give you a loan myself now!” 

“You? How? You never have any money!”

“Lies. I have a job now!” 

“And what’s that?”

“Stealing from assholes!” you say letting him take a peek of the Loanshark’s money in your pocket.”

______________________________________

My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 5 - “Not a date.”

Taadaa

Author’s Notes: I gave this just a quick edit, but I wanted to get it posted. Why? Because the story’s picking up. Also, I hope you enjoy it; feedback is greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 2550-ish

All characters and settings are original creations and belong to me.

Geoff didn't know much about Detective Elizabeth Hart past what he knew from rumors. She was said to be a no-nonsense woman and was known for having little patience for frivolities or idle chatter. It didn't make much sense to pair her with Jean-Claude - logically, at least. On paper, her working with Jean-Claude made sense; she would be able to see through the vampire's antics, but in application, he was still surprised that they had managed to work together for even a week, let alone years.

If her notes were anything to go by, it was clear she didn't much care for Jean-Claude at the start of their partnership but, as the years went by, she had grown fond of the centuries-old vampire.

The first several pages of the well-worn ledger were dedicated to the elf. She had started with a very dry description - height, weight, hair color, the usual run-down - before her tone changed. The following pages spanned several years, evident by the date next to each note; she had come to discuss his love for red wine, about how he'd always have her favorite chocolates waiting for her, his mannerisms and so on and so forth. It was amusing to read about Jean-Claude from her perspective, even if it wasn't helpful.

He flipped through her notes until he found a page simply entitled "ghouls."

With a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair as he began to read...

The first attack happened on the second day of October. The body had been found by one of Jean-Claude's vampires. It had been floating in the river, mostly eaten, and she hadn't been able to determine who the body belonged to. The teeth, fingerprints and feet were either missing, rotten or mangled. Elizabeth had tried a DNA test, but it yielded no results. She wrote that the body was probably one of the homeless men that filled the city, but her attempts to identify him with the other homeless in the area proved unfruitful.

The second attack happened a week before Halloween. Another gnawed body had been found in a back alley in the industrial district. The wounds appeared to be a combination of human and canine, she noted, but this time the victim's teeth were definitely removed by force, as evident by the saliva and bloody vice grips they found nearby. Much like the first victim, she couldn't identify this woman, no matter what she tried.

Detective Hart had contacted a necromancer, in hopes they could raise the woman's spirit for a short while. The necromancer had said that unless she could be provided some of the bones or flesh of the victim, she wouldn't be able to find her spirit. At the very bottom of the page, Elizabeth scrawled the words "useless corpsefucker."  

He hid his smirk as he turned the page, only to frown as he read about the next attack.

It happened on Halloween and had resulted in the death and consumption of four people. This time, though, weapons were used. She indicated that their throats appeared to have been slit, but it was hard to tell because of the bites. The only clear indication that weapons had been present were from the defensive wounds on the arms of the man that had appeared to die last. These four bodies were also mostly consumed, with only humanoid bites covering their flesh.

Of the four, only Diane Kirkpatrick had been identified.

Unfortunately, Diane Kirkpatrick was also identified as being a ghoul, as noted in her autopsy report.

Geoff's brow furrowed as he read and reread Elizabeth's notes. She had said it wasn't uncommon for ghouls to turn on one another when food was scarce, but how scarce could the food be when there were multiple bodies that were eaten? What's more, she was a relatively 'recent' ghoul. The useless corpsefucker had said that Diane Kirkpatrick must have been turned within a week of being found truly dead, covered in bites and lying in a heap with the other three corpses - two humans and a half-elf, all of whom were down-and-out on their luck.

The useless corpsefucker had also said that the fact Diane had been eaten showed that there was likely a pack of ghouls behind the attacks and that there probably were more attacks happening which had yet to be discovered. As noted by the necromancer - she had scribbled the woman's proper title over the crossed out insult - this kind of activity was unusual for ghouls. They typically operated alone, eating anyone and anything to feed their insatiable hunger, and that they didn't work together by choice.

The last note on the page was a single word: fuck.

He placed the journal down as he stared at the wall.

Within the first month, six bodies had been found. Six. Three women, three men, varying races... the only commonality they all had was that they all appeared to be homeless. Only one had appeared to truly fight back, while the other five appeared to have been either caught by surprise or were killed in their sleep. Even more worrisome was the fact the ghouls appeared to be coordinated in their attacks. Or, at the very least, they possessed enough sense to not outright cannibalize themselves. Still, though, how were they organizing themselves? Was there a central ghoul with more intelligence than the rest or was someone else pulling the strings? He was more inclined to think that there was a puppet master at work, but he couldn't rule out the thoery of an intelligent ghoul. He frowned as he knuckled his forehead; there were simply too many unknowns at this time.

He picked up the notebook after a moment and flipped back through Elizabeth's notes, all but frantically looking for the name of the necromancer. He had questions for the woman to answer...

Geoff's rumbling stomach disturbed the silent room.

Flushing, he looked over his shoulder at Griffith and felt a small wave of relief washing over him when he realized the half-elf hadn't reacted. He turned his gaze back to his new desk and frowned as he remembered his fully-packed lunchbox was sitting on the bottom shelf of his fridge. Geoff sighed and pushed himself away from the desk before standing. He stretched his arms over his head as the cracking of his elbows and spine jolted Griffith out of his work-enduced trance.

"Is it five already?" Griffith asked as he rubbed his tired eyes. "No, but it's lunch time, which is almost just as good." Geoff beamed. "I was going to head to the diner down the street for a sandwich - want to come along?" Griffith shook his head. "Not today, but I appreciate the offer." The half-elf gave him a small smile. "Maybe another time?" "Sure thing. Want me to bring you back anything?" Another shake of his head. "I'm fine; I brought lunch." Geoff nodded. "Back later, then. Have a good lunch." He gave the analyst a friendly smile before leaving the room. Once outside, his smile faded as he shoved his hands into his pocket and made a beeline for the diner...

Geoff sank down into his usual booth and gave Ester a smile as she grabbed an old mug and a pot of coffee before walking up to the table. "You're back sooner than expected," she said as she placed a mug of coffee in front of the officer. "Left my lunch at home," Geoff mumbled. "And here I was thinking you just wanted to see me again." She pulled out her order pad. "The usual, then?" "Yup. Do you have cho--" "Yes. We have chocolate cake. Do you want whipped cream with that cake?" Ester laughed at the boyish delight on Geoff's face. "Is the sky blue?" His smile grew. "As blue as your eyes," she scribbled down his name on the slip - Sal would know exactly what to make - and tucked it back into her apron. "I'll bring everything out when it's ready." He gave her a smile as she walked away. Once alone, he sank down into the seat and cradled the coffee mug between his calloused hands. He found himself wishing he had brought Elizabeth's ledger with him as he sipped his coffee; it would've been good to keep reading as he waited...

Geoff was pulled from his thoughts as Ester came back with his order. "That was fast," he watched as she balanced the tray on ohe hand. Ester began placing plates in front of the officer, starting with the cheesesteak. "Sal started making the cheesesteak as soon as he saw you. He didn't even need me to put the order in." She put the last plate on the table and stood back. Geoff stared at the plate; it was almost entirely covered with whipped cream. He picked up his spoon and cautiously poked the cream. "Is this my cake?" "Yep." He poked it again as he bit back a smile. "Why'd you drown it in whipped cream?" "I thought you'd like it; you seemed down when you walked in," Ester glanced over to the neighboring table. "Enjoy your lunch. I'll swing back soon to refill your coffee." "You're the best, Ester," he picked up an onion ring as he dropped a heaping spoonful of whipped cream into his coffee.

Halfway through the cheesesteak, Geoff's phone buzzed on his hip.

Shifting his sandwich to one hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen with a few taps from his thumb. He found himself dreading reading the message, all but certain it'd be Jean-Claude bitching about something...

Instead, he found himself staring down at a message from Vincent. He dropped his lunch as he held his phone with both hands, all but quivering in anticipation as he read the text.

Landed this morning - just got home. Drinks tonight? My treat. 

Grinning ear-to-ear, he immediately typed out a reply and then stared at it. His grin lessened as he reread the embarassingly enthusiastic text. Vincent had only been gone for a month; there was no need for that many exclamation marks. With a sigh, he erased the message and tapped out a new one...

Three minutes later, he finally replied with: Sounds good. When and where?

His sandwich became a distant memory as he stared at the screen. He chewed on his bottom lip while he waited for the elf's reply. He didn't know where Vincent would want to go. There were a lot of different places they had gone to for drinks over the years and they had amassed a small collection of favorites. It was generally a toss-up between two places, though: a hole-in-the-wall craft brewery or an up-scale cocktail lounge with an impressive wine list. He didn't care much for wine, but Vincent liked it. If they went there, though, he'd actually have to wear something nice--

Five Birds at seven? Your favorite food truck is there tonight.

Geoff's grin came back in full force - they were going to the low-key brewery and he'd be able to get loaded tater tots for dinner.

But, more importantly, Vincent would be there.

Sounds great; see you tonight, he leaned over the table, propping his chin up on his hand as he stared down at his phone. He kept smiling as his mind wandered; Vincent was back in town, had suggested they go to Geoff's favorite bar and, what's more, Vincent even knew which of the many food trucks in the city was his favorite. Logically, he knew that Vincent had nothing to do with the truck being at Five Birds, but that didn't stop him from thinking--

"My, my, looks like someone just got some good news," Ester crooned as she refilled Geoff's coffee. The officer jumped as he dropped his phone, frantically scanning his surroundings before staring up at the waitress. "w-What?" "Not often I see you stop in the middle of eating to answer your phone. I figured it had to be something important and, if the smile on your face is anything to go by, you've just gotten a hot date lined up." "Date...? No, no. Not at all. Just meeting a friend for drinks." He shook his head as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "Not a date." "You sure about that?" "Completely. Not a date." Ester stared at him for a moment more before nodding. "Alright then. Have fun getting drinks on your not-date, then."  She placed the bill for his lunch on the table before leaving.

Geoff pulled out his wallet and placed a few bills down before turning his attention back to his half-eaten sandwich. He resumed eating, albeit slower than normal, as his thoughts began to race.

Was it actually a date? He was meeting Vincent tonight at a bar, but that's what they normally did. Did that make all their previous meetings dates, too? For that matter, what even was a date? Weren't dates supposed to be going to nice restaurants and giving flowers and wearing clothes that made him feel awkwardly out of place? Even if their casual meet-ups for drinks together at a bar were somehow classified as dates, that would imply that he and Vincent were dating. And they most certainly were not dating. They were simply two friends who liked spending time with each other. Which is what friendship was. Because, he nodded to himself, two friends could go out for drinks and it wouldn't be a date.

Besides, it was a date, that'd be gay. And he was not--

Geoff sighed; he couldn't even finish the thought.

He knew he was gay. He had known it for years, but he had yet to do anything with that knowledge. It wasn't for a lack of desire, though. He wanted nothing more than to explore and act on the urges he had buried for over a decade, but he kept sabotaging himself and he knew it. No matter what he tried, he found himself runing it in some way or another.

Maybe tonight would be different. His pulse quickened as he thought about seeing Vincent again, about seeing the smile that always made his days a little brighter. Maybe tonight he'd finally--

He took another bite of his sandwich, only to catch his lip instead. He ran his tongue over the bleeding skin and frowned. It was typical; he had been on the verge of making a revelation, only to subconsciously ruin the moment before any life-changing realizations could occur.

Like always.

With a heavy heart, he ate the last few bites of his sandwich before turning his attention to the cake, doing his level best to not think about anything that even reminded him of Vincent...

[kohakuhime]

The Reluctant Guardian, ch. 14

Hey folks~! Here’s our next installment! As a heads up for this particular chapter, I am backtracking just a smidge - the previous installment had a time skip of three days, so...think of this like a rewind. Expect the next update by 1/13/18!

Disclaimer: this takes place post canon, and this refers to events that take place in an alternate verse. Isabel, Kazuo, Mikomi, and Travis belong to @mpuzzlegirl​; Darien, Alana, and Risa belong to me; Yumi Mutou, who is referenced, belongs to @wizqevelynart​; and YGO and its associated characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi

                                              Three Days Earlier...

It had not been a good night.

Joey had spent nearly the entire night searching the city, ranging from old haunts from his teenage years to the corporate side of town, and yet he had not found any sign of the twins. Tristan and Ryou had helped as much as they could, but they too had come up empty handed.

Mai had found the shared phone the twins used on the roof across from their workshop, after dialing and hearing their ringtone. It had not been far from the alleyway where they had found the smoke bomb they had used. Joey for now was taking it to mean that they had gotten away—he did not want to think about the alternative.

It was not until the early hours of the morning when Joey trudged back into the apartment, leaning against the door. Mai was waiting for him, phone in hand. “Anything?”

“Nothin’.” Joey crashed into the nearest chair, hanging his head. “No sign of them. Either they did a real good job of hiding, or someone got to them.”

He did not have to look up to see the uncertainty on Mai’s face. “Joey…I don’t think it was just Sora and Claire who’ve disappeared. Nor Rowen or the other kids.”

Joey’s head snapped up so quickly he popped his neck, and he cursed sharply. “Mai, where’s Risa?” he said urgently, his heart crashing to a halt. “Is she—“

“No, hon, she’s okay,” she said hastily. “Risa got home around midnight. She took a cab.”

Maybe it was because he had been up all night, maybe it was the stress, but it took Joey a full minute before his mind processed what Mai had said. “Why’d Risa take a cab? Wasn’t she supposed to go back to the Game Shop after she was done at the amusement park?”

Mai’s features were grim. “Joey, Risa said that she was supposed to meet Yumi there…but Yumi never showed up, didn’t answer the phone, and when Risa stopped at the shop to check on her it was closed.”

Yugi didn’t close business during the day unless there was an emergency or a tournament he was involved in. There shouldn’t have been a reason to close the Game Shop.

He had not been able to get a hold of Yugi at all, come to think of it. At first he had thought it was because of the signal strength from different areas, but now…

“Mai, when was the last time we heard from Yugi?” he asked very quietly. “Or Téa?”

Mai did not get to answer. Joey’s phone started ringing and he jumped, pulling it out of his jacket pocket. Spotting Isabel’s caller ID, he answered it. “Yeah? Anything?”

“Joey, Noa and I were wondering if you and Mai wanted to come to breakfast with us.”

Joey blinked. He shot Mai a bewildered look, and Mai motioned for Joey to put the call on speaker. “Uh, Isa? Say that again?”

“Noa and I wanted you and Mai to join us for breakfast this morning.” Isabel’s voice was cheerful over the phone.

“We’d love to,” said Mai brightly, making Joey jump. “What time would you want us over?”

“You know that one café over by KaibaCorp? Do you mind meeting us there?”

“Sure! Hey, you don’t mind Risa tagging along do you?”

Joey, who was only seconds from protesting, stopped speaking at the look Mai was shooting him. Oh—he got it. He shot a thumbs up and rose to his feet.

“No, not at all! Mikomi and Kazuo are coming too—Noa wanted some testers for a new piece of tech he’s working on, and he apparently has standing permission from Kaiba to use his laboratories.”

“Okay, sounds good! How soon do you want us, Isabel?” Joey said.

“As soon as you can. I know it’s only six AM, but—“

“Nah, we’re up anyways and I’m hungry anyways. We’ll be over as soon as we can. Thanks, Isabel!” Joey hung up, reached for a broom, and started for the closed bedroom door. “I’ll get Risa up.”

                                        +++++++++++++++++++

When they arrived at the café, Isabel was already standing outside waiting for them. As Joey and Mai drew closer, Isabel held out a paper bag and a cup of coffee towards them. “I ordered for you guys already,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

On the front of the bag were four words written in sharpie: Play along. Being watched.

Joey took the bag, keeping the side with the message hidden. “I eat anything, Isabel, no worries. So where’s Noa?”

“Oh, he’s over at KaibaCorp already. We can walk over,” she said, already crossing the street. Mai and Risa tailed after Joey; their daughter had taken the cup of coffee, looking puffy eyed and grouchy.

Travis was standing inside the entrance to KaibaCorp with Mikomi and Kazuo. The moment Risa reached them Travis whisked her away and into a stairwell off the right. “Travis is their guide to the labs today for their work with the product testing,” Isabel said aloud, and then in a lower voice, “Cover story, in case.”

Joey and Mai discreetly gave a thumbs up, following Isabel through the front lobby, into the elevator, and then raised an eyebrow when Isabel stuck a keycard into the slot next to the buttons. The doors closed and the elevator went up.

“Noa’s office?”

Isabel did not answer, stepping out once the elevator reached its destination. Joey did a double take when he saw the sign for the floor. “Uh—“

“Executive suite?” Mai said, and her eyebrows arched. “Oh my.”

Isabel walked all the way to the end of the hall, pushing one of the doors open and motioning for them to go inside. Joey stepped through the door, staring at the large business office around him. Noa was in the office chair behind the desk, his eyes fixed on the computer.

Joey couldn’t help but grin when he saw the desk. “Of course that nerd would have a Blue Eyes paperweight—and wait, is that a Blue Eyes computer mouse?”

“Yeah, well, Seto is predictable in that fashion,” Noa said, leaning back into the office chair. He rose from the seat and moved to the right side of the room. “Don’t worry about the kids for now—Travis is downstairs with them. Come on over with me.”

“Darien and Alana?” Mai asked, looking around. “Are they already here?”

“They said they were staying behind and out of Domino,” Noa said. “They felt they would get in the way.”

Mai exchanged looks with Isabel. That didn’t sound right for Ellie’s parents, especially considering how much they loved their family. Isabel offered a small, helpless shrug in response to Mai’s questioning expression. Something must have changed since last night.

As they approached, Noa flicked a light switch. Instead of turning off the lights, however, the switch plate lifted completely up and disappeared into the wall, leaving only a finger scanner and a pack of alcohol wipes.

Noa used one of the wipes on the scanner, then pulled out a safety pin and sighed. “I hate this part,” he muttered, and then he pricked the point of the pin into the flesh of his thumb. He squeezed his thumb until a small bead of blood welled onto his finger, and then pressed it against the scanner.

No one had time to protest. There was a small beep and the wall to the right of the switch suddenly slid open. Noa motioned for them to step inside, cleaned the scanner plate off with the wipe, and then stepped inside, the door hissing closed behind them.

“Seto insisted on DNA specific identification in addition to scanning fingerprints,” Noa said irritably. “Anyways, welcome to Seto’s panic room.”

The room inside was different from the spacious and well-furnished office. There was not as much space in here, Joey noted. A smaller sofa was pushed against the wall; on one side of the wall were several monitors and another office chair. There was a small refrigerator in another corner of the room.

“We’re being watched by someone unfriendly?” Joey asked without preamble.

“Yes,” said Noa. “I’ve already swept Seto’s office for visual and audio bugs, and checked his desktop for unwanted guests. I’m just being extra careful—only a Kaiba can get into this room, so the chances of anyone else getting in here are non-existent.”

“What's goin’ on?” Joey asked. “You wouldn’t have called us all here unless you found something.”

“First thing’s first,” Noa said, and he looked as if he had swallowed something distinctly unpleasant. “Dartz came by our house last night.”

Joey felt rather than saw Mai stiffen at his side.

“He’s confirmed all the missing kids are with him and wanted us to pass it along to you. Apparently Darien saw him last night when we asked, so he knows.”

Momentary relief briefly flitted through Joey’s thoughts. His sister’s kids were safe…or as safe as they could be, considering who had the twins. His small smile vanished as suddenly as it appeared and his mouth turned down at the corner. “Why the hell are we letting Dartz keep them safe?”

“Not by choice,” said Noa, his own voice dark with anger. “Dartz has found a way to stay off the radar, likely with magic. In true fashion, he decided to tell us what he was doing after he did it. I don’t like it any more than you do, but at this point he’s out of reach unless he comes to Domino again.”

Mai folded her arms. “Also true to form, he doesn’t talk to you about important decisions face to face,” she retorted irritably.

“Dartz was under the impression you’d castrate him with a rusted fork if he came by,” said Noa, sounding skeptical and amused at the same time.

Mai raised an eyebrow, then reached into her purse and in one smooth motion pulled out a rusted fork. “Like this one?”

There was a long pause. “Mai, holy hell, you actually have one,” Joey said at last, unable to take his eyes off of the utensil.

“I do not break my promises,” she said airily, only the smallest bit of malice in her voice. “I’m only sorry Dartz didn’t test me.”

Noa cleared his throat. “Okay, Mai, you can sheath your sword. He’s not here,” he said. As Mai put away the fork, Joey tried not to grin at the relief across Noa’s features when it was out of sight.

“Joey, Mai, do you have your duel decks with you?” Isabel asked suddenly. Noticing Joey pulling out his deck from the belt holster he carried, she added, “Do me a favor and go through your cards real quick.”

Joey complied, shuffling through his cards as Mai leaned over. He was near the end of the deck when he came across the Red Eyes Black Dragon and—

“What the hell?” he blurted out, staring at his trademark card with horror.

Green lettering was glowing across the face of the card, from top to bottom and almost hiding the dragon from view. Joey looked up from the card to Noa and Isabel. “Did you two do this?”

“We didn’t,” said Isabel reassuringly. “Mikomi caught it this morning—something similar was on one of her cards as well. Read the message.”

Joey looked back to the card. “’You’re being watched. Do nothing suspicious. You are not safe at this time.’”

The moment Joey had finished reading he gasped as the message disappeared off the card. “Is Dartz behind this?”

“Yes,” said Mai and Noa almost in unison. They shot each other startled looks, but it was Mai who kept talking. “It was how Dartz reached out to us in areas where we didn’t have cell reception. The message fades the moment you finish reading it.”

“I’m taking it to mean that this will be how Dartz keeps in touch with us, then,” Joey said, eyeing his Red Eyes worriedly. “As long as it isn’t permanent, I’ll go with it.”

“That message was verbatim what we got this morning off of Mikomi’s card,” said Isabel quietly. “You know as much as we do about who this person watching us is—which is why we’re in here and not out in Kaiba’s office.”

Noa gestured around the room. “This room is pretty much tamper-proof and you can’t get access to anything in here to place bugs. I turned off the Wi-Fi hubs and disconnected the computers in here as a precaution, and Seto doesn’t keep any separate webcams in here.”

“We bring this up because yesterday there were two break-ins during broad daylight, while Michael was almost kidnapped in the middle of a crowd in front of security guards. Yet somehow, there’s no footage or audio recordings of any of these events anywhere. We got lucky with some footage of Rowen on a bus, and even a glimpse of one of the men at the mall chasing Michael, but that’s all we have,” Isabel said grimly.

Mai rummaged in her purse again and pulled out the twin’s phone. “It’s out of battery now, but I found it on the roof of the building across from their workshop,” she said. “I thought maybe they had been caught, now that you said we’re being watched I have to wonder if they didn’t leave it because of that reason.”

“And that’s probably why Dartz left Michael’s phone behind when he took Michael from the mall,” Noa said grimly. He held out his hand for the phone. “I’ve got Michael’s already, and I’ll take that one too. Maybe there’s a tracking app somewhere on their phone that I can use to backtrack to the one who sent it.”

“Rowen’s is back at our apartment,” Joey added. “You want that one?”

“When you get a chance, yeah.” Noa took the phone carefully, inspecting it briefly before setting it down.

Noa’s features promptly darkened. “Right, here’s the other thing I’ve found out,” he said as he passed over a stapled together print out. On the front was the picture of a cruise liner, but Joey’s eyes had caught the headline:

           Duel Monsters Tournament To Take Place On Private Cruise

“I heard about this tournament!” Joey said sharply, looking up at the others. “I got an invitation for it a while back, but I turned it down after reading the rules for it. It sounded shady as hell. Yugi got one too and he turned it down, but that was because it’s supposed to be almost two weeks long and he didn’t want to be away that long.”

“Enlighten us on the rules you received with that invitation, Joey,” Isabel said. “I couldn’t find anything aside from what that article was saying.”

“No outside electronics, no outside phones, nothing that could access the internet allowed. If anyone leaves the boat while it’s in port for any reason, it’s instant disqualification and barring from the next three tournaments. It’s ultimately why I said ‘nah’—I make my living from tournament earnings, and being banned would take a hit on us I can’t afford,” Joey said flatly.

“I heard about this tournament’s rules in the news. It sounds downright ridiculous,” Mai remarked with a frown. “What if it was an emergency that you had to get off?”

Joey pointed to Mai. “That was why Yugi wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t leave his family cut off from him for the duration of the tournament, since you were only allowed to take one person with you onto this boat.”

Noa’s face looked troubled. “Seto said something similar when he got an invitation. I talked to Mokuba last night about it—Seto said he wouldn’t do it because it would be almost two weeks without contact with his company, but read between the lines and it’s the same reason as Yugi.”

Joey looked back to the article and started reading aloud. “Exclusive and private Duel Monsters tournament welcomes veteran duelists Yugi Mutou and Seto Kai—what?!”

His head snapped back up to look at Noa. “Yugi wouldn’t change his mind on something like this! If he did he never said anything to me.”

“And Seto was supposed to be at a business conference yesterday, but instead Mokuba got a call from Roland saying Seto never made it there. Mokuba’s acting as representative for Seto at the conference now and doing what he can on his end, but Seto would never put off work for Duel Monsters. He wouldn’t,” added Noa when Mai shot him a look. “Not when it comes to something like this.”

Isabel nodded, her mouth a thin line. “Plus Seto’s kids and wife have completely disappeared. No one can reach them or find them.”

Ice traveled down Joey’s spine. “No one’s heard from Yugi’s family or from Yugi and Téa, and Yumi was supposed to meet Risa yesterday—she never showed up.”

Mai swore sharply. “I think I know why they’ve signed up for this tournament now,” she snarled. “This Mystery Bastard got to their families.”

Noa nodded, tight-lipped and eyes flashing. “That’s the best assumption to make at this point. Seto’s kids have tracking beacons literally sewn into their clothes—those beacons have been offline for almost twelve hours,” he said, his voice low and furious. “Whoever this is not only bold enough to go after Kaibas, they managed to make even Seto comply with them.”

“So what do we do about this?” Joey asked. “I’m not just gonna sit around waiting for something to happen, especially—“

“We may have to, hon,” Mai said quietly. She did not seem to enjoy saying it, and she looked over at her affronted husband. “If we’re being watched, it means they’re wanting to see what we do. If we get too busy or get too close, this guy could go after us next. I don’t care about me—I don’t want these bastards going for Risa,” she finished, and Joey blanched.

“For now, as much as it pains me to say it, we’ll have to stay largely out of suspicion’s way,” said Isabel. She hesitated, and then added. “Dartz feels like there’s a chance the Orichalcos is involved.”

Noa stiffened in place, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his eyes were filled with quiet horror. “Keep talking, Isabel. You’re fine.”

Isabel reached over for Noa, her hand resting gently on his shoulder and squeezing it. Her husband reached up to take her hand, and Joey saw the distinct tremble in his shoulders. Isabel looked back over to them. “Without confirming it’s back, without knowing how many active stones are in play or who’s using them, we can’t do anything without endangering ourselves and our families.”

“The Orichalcos should be useless,” Mai said, looking distinctly pale. She leaned subconsciously against Joey and his arm moved around her shoulders. “It shouldn’t have power.”

“Dartz seems to think it does in spite of everything that happened,” Isabel said quietly. “I’d be inclined to listen to him—if he of all people is worried about it, I would be too.”

“So someone got a hold of the Orichalcos again?” Joey asked. “How? I figured Dartz guarded those things pretty religiously. Unless an auction was held after Dartz was defeated and someone was like ‘hey, yo, can I bid on the suspicious glowing candy’ I don’t see how—“

“Joey you genius!” Noa’s eyes lit up as he snapped to his feet, startling Joey and Isabel. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner!”

“Liquidation sales,” Mai murmured, understanding why Noa was excited. She was grinning herself. “Whoever bought Paradius property or items in bulk has to be a suspect.”

“Isabel, tell Travis to ask Pegasus about any businessmen who’ve been interested in magic. He’s the one most likely to keep track of that number,” Noa said, turning to his wife. He blinked, already noticing Isabel smirking and holding up the burner phone.

“Got that, Travis?” she asked aloud.

“Copy that, Isabel,” Travis’s voice came over the speaker. “Just need a number, that’s all.”

“We’ll get it to you later. Keep that phone with you.”

As Isabel pocketed the phone Mai leaned forward in her seat. “I’m still thinking about that tournament. Who’s sponsoring it? We find that guy, we find the ones responsible for all this.”

“We have a name, but I’m certain it’s not the right one we’re looking for,” Isabel said slowly, and she shot a wary look at Noa. “Yuri Lee Dum. That’s the so-called head of the tournament.”

“Yuri Lee—oh that complete—I can’t—!” Joey knew the look of dark murder on his own face matched the one on Noa’s. Under different circumstances, he would have found it funny. “He’s playing with us!”

“The only names we’ve been able to find that aren’t aliases are on the duelist’s roster—including the one representing Dum,” Noa said acidly, practically spitting out the last name. “Either of you ever hear of Miracle?”

“No, but if that’s a stage name that’s in really poor taste if the Orichalcos is present and working in this tournament,” Mai said darkly. “And let me guess: no connecting companies, no word on who’s sponsoring it other than this clown?”

“Not a thing. I have no idea how they’re hiding everything they’re doing,” Noa said angrily. The amount of venom in Noa’s voice was palpable. “This whole thing is really…really…stupid.”

Although no one spoke after that statement, everyone in the room could not help but silently agree.

“If we can’t do anything outright without proper information, then we need to focus on what we can do,” Mai said at length. “I for one don’t think we’re fully safe from this guy. Protection for the remaining kids needs to be our priority. No going anywhere without one of us, among other things.”

“And the kids are crafty buggers too,” added Joey. “Risa for one probably isn’t gonna sit this out if Yumi and her cousins are in trouble.”

“Let them try to come after our kids,” Noa said, his voice deceptively smooth. The look in his eyes, however, spoke volumes. “Just let them try.”

“Travis did not just come here to visit Michael, either. He’s got a show here in town for the next week, and we’ve figured he’s our loophole. We’re taking a gamble on him,” said Isabel firmly. “I already gave him a burner phone and he’s going to be doing some digging for us, since we’ve got unfriendly eyes on us.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to keep digging and keep trying to figure out who this guy really is. You all are welcome to do your own work, but try not to get caught doing it.”

“Keep our ears to the pavement and our eyes open. Gotcha.” Joey saluted, a shark’s grin stretching across his features. “They’re forgetting I grew up on these streets. I can do plenty of detective work without getting caught. You just gotta know what to ask and where.”

                                             +++++++++++++++++++

“Okay, anyone have a Sharpie pen?”

“I do. I carry, like, three of them on me at all times.”

“…Why?”

“Hey, someone falls asleep in class, you gotta draw on people with bold and fine detail.”

“…Right.” Kazuo handed the Sharpie pen to Mikomi, eyeing Risa warily. “Remind me not to nap around you.”

Although it had been Mikomi who had found the message on her Hitotsu-Me Giant card, Kazuo had the idea to try reverse-messaging to the one who had sent the warning; with Mikomi’s ability to contact Duel spirits, it was a chance to find their cousins that was near impossible not to take. Risa, meanwhile was watching the computers run a custom search for Yumi’s Duel Disk—an idea she’d had the moment they had stepped into the lab.

“What should we say?” Mikomi asked, holding the pen hesitantly above the card.

“Maybe start with ‘knock knock’. No, I’m kidding,” Risa added when Kazuo shot her a look. She sobered, taking another sip of coffee, and then said, “What about ‘are you there? Please answer’ to start with? I get the feeling this Dartz guy may not answer right away, and you don’t want to write a novel if he isn’t going to respond to begin with.”

Mikomi nodded, carefully writing in neat, legible writing on the card. She touched the card after she had finished and added a silent, Please take the message to Dartz.

She felt a gentle brush on her shoulder, and though the card did not change she felt the presence of Hitotsu-Me Giant fade away.

“Now what?”

“We’ll have to wait and see if Dartz answers us,” Kazuo said, sounding anything but happy. “Meanwhile, let’s see what we can do to help find out what’s going on…”

                                        +++++++++++++++++++

The next three days seemed to pass without incident, though they did pass ever so slowly. Either Isabel or Mai kept watch over the kids if they went anywhere, escorting them to and from their destinations; Risa, Kazuo, and Mikomi were not pleased by this development, but none of them protested terribly.

Initially there had been talk of mounting a rescue, or at least having someone try to find Seto or Yugi, but that option was shot down by Noa: “They’re using cloaking technology to hide their global position, and it would take at least weeks to find them. Apparently they got special permission on that one—go figure—but flying blindly out there is potentially endangering them and their families.”

It was an uneasy stalemate that they had fallen into over the three days. No leads, no answers, and mounting frustration on all sides.

Mikomi, Kazuo, and Risa, when together, spent a good deal of time huddled and speaking in whispers. What they were discussing or talking about was anyone’s guess, but as long as they did not try to set off on their own the adults let them be. A small part of Isabel was even hoping perhaps the kids could see something that the adults didn’t.

Noa was glued to a computer screen, rarely taking his eyes away as he moved throughout multiple screens of coding. Per Isabel, her husband had been doing digging in just about every website in the city that he could reach. Noa still could not find names, or specific evidence of anything shady going on.

Joey also rarely came home at night, tracking down virtually every lead he could find. He deliberately did not take a phone with him when he went out, making Mai wait up for him. Mai often found Joey trekking back in the early hours of the morning, covered in bruises and dirt. He too was striking out in terms of information.

Not one of them heard from Dartz in all that time and the silence was deafening.

                                           +++++++++++++++++++

On the fourth night, just before she went to bed, Mikomi checked her cards. When she got to Hitotsu-Me’s card, however, she gasped. “Kazuo!”

Her brother, who had been passing in the hallway, stopped in mid-motion and ducked into his younger sister’s room. “What is it?”

Mikomi was staring at the card, one hand covering her mouth.

“Mikomi?” Kazuo felt a spike of concern. “Komi, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly she held out the card to Kazuo. The Sharpie was gone, replaced by glowing letters. Impossibly, the message seemed to radiate with an intense fury, nearly blinding Kazuo before his eyes could focus on the five-word message:

Do nothing. Stop everything.

NOW.

Previous | Master Post | Next

[mysurveys]

Random Qs

Survey #3 on the Countdown to 2018!

Are you more likely to "suck it up" when something is difficult or to give up?

I don't give up easily by any means, but I do know when it's time to quit. I enjoy challenges because the sense of satisfaction and accomplishment is greater after conquering them. There's a time to just stop trying, though.

What was your very first day of your very first job like; what did you do and how long did it take you to get the hang of it and feel comfortable with working?

I've never had a paid job, just my nonprofit group. That was something I started and it didn't require me to adjust to it all that much.

Getting the hang of it was more like improving my skills through experience rather than learning a new skill set entirely. I can't really remember the first day of it, though.

If you have a dog, are they friendly to strangers or other dogs?

She's usually friendly with other animals and with most people.

Whether you like it or not, do you tend to get into drama with girls or do you just let that stuff roll right off your back and have nothing to do with it?

Avoiding ALL drama in life would be pretty difficult and I can get into it others when I'm too outspoken, opinionated and critical for them to handle. But all of that stuff doesn't really get under my skin since I'm an easygoing kind of person.

Casting judgments doesn't mean you're uptight. My problem was not having a filter and being overaggressive with certain people, but I've reined myself in.

I'm still going to make judgments and some will be out in the open, though. I'm not going to lie or behave as if I'm oppressed by conforming to social graces that I disagree with. I'm not after social rewards.

Do people ever comment on or joke about your driving?

I don't drive partly due to having DTD and also because of the hallucinations I used to have with mild Paranoid Schizophrenia. The latter has become completely controlled by medication to the point that it's irrelevant now.

What was something little that made you smile or cheer up today?

My outdoor cat named Lucius isn't very big being a cat and yet he has a big impact on my life. Some of the little things he does brighten my day.

Would you say that the people you hang out with most are kind of weird or unique, or do you think they’re just regular chill people?

They're chill people, but some of them have weird and unique quirks and even eccentricities the way I do. People's personalities aren't entirely unique because they can share so many similarities with others.

The only things about you that're 100% unique are your fingerprints. Even your DNA is similar to other's.

Have you ever had absinthe?

I haven't.

Have you ever been accused of trying to steal someone’s significant other and were you ever trying to?

People aren't mindless objects. You can't steal them, but I've never tried to come between a couple before. That's not something I would ever allow myself to do willingly.

Have you ever resented someone for something out of their control and has that ever happened to you?

I don't know if someone's resenting me for something I had no control over. You would have to ask the people who know me, but I know I've been resentful of people when they can't appear to control the effects of their mental illnesses at all when it really seems that they should know better.

You certainly should have some control over the really negative aspects of yourself when you know your diagnosis. And yet there are parts of mental illness that excuse people's behaviors. Some people don't appear to have any self-control even when they really should, though.

Was there anything you thought would never happen to you that did?

I'm open-minded to the possibilities in life even when they're improbable. That means I'm rarely surprised by things. I doubted I would let myself have sex before marriage and yet that happened, but that's the only major example I've got for this.

Do you tend to try avoiding drama or do you kind of like a life filled with drama?

I neither love nor hate it to be honest. It's just kind of there sometimes. I'm not always starting it with everyone in my life or anything.

However, some people just can't stand how upfront, opinionated, outspoken and critical I am. That’s especially true when they're not well-equipped for handling it like adults.

I'll get into it with oversensitive, overemotional people with childish qualities and with those who often have the inability to handle confrontation out of fear and immaturity.

So they'll leave a comment to bitch and moan at you and then run away. That's what children do. But a lot of Millennials are just big kids shitting bricks every time someone judges them openly.

We all do it and you have to if you want to practice morality. Some of us just choose to be open about it instead of lying by omission.

Do people often describe you as a sweetheart, or maybe there's another word people are always calling you?

I'm no one's sweetheart. I'm best described as an old soul with a young heart who can read people like cheap drugstore novellas.

What was the last thing to move you and are you easily moved or inspired?

I'm not easily moved by things yet I find inspiration just about everywhere these days. The last thing to move me was how Lucius tugged at my heartstrings with his inability to open up with anyone and enjoy his life.

That's why I crusaded for adopting him, but my father wanted him to be an outdoor pet only, much to my dismay. I compromised so that Lucius can come into my bedroom, though! He's a wonderful part of my life.

If you've ever seen your very favorite band, did you cry when you saw them and was it like a dream come true, or if you've never seen them then do you think you ever would?

I don't care for crowds and live music most of the time, so seeing my fave bands and artists live isn't something I'd be into.

If you write stories, have you ever come across a person in real life who looked weirdly similar to one of your characters, or someone who maybe acted just like them?

I tend to write fanfics although I like making OCs for them. I don't often see people who look similar to my charries, but I've come across people who share many of their major characteristics.

What's something a person you've just met or seen can do to make you instantly dislike them?

I don't consciously prejudge people based on first impressions because that's a terrible thing to do. I'm too open-minded for that shit and that's part of why I score high on the Openness factor on Big Five personality tests.

But no one can control their unconscious prejudgment of others. I just make sure that I don't consciously prejudge and I'm able to monitor my subconscious judgments to some degree as well. It's your unconscious mind that's inaccessible.

Is it hard for you to get along with people that have different opinions than you do, or can you ignore all of that stuff and be friends with just about anyone?

I'm not going to be tolerant of immoral people or idiots. Not happening!

But there are plenty of people I simply agree to disagree with. That being said, my closest friends will always be similar to me in their major beliefs as Christians and on the political spectrum since their moral compasses dictate their political beliefs.

When you get fast food, are you ever rude and impatient?

The only person I even know who gets that way is my father because his temperament is so poor and he's prone to being impatient about anything.

What's something you can do to calm yourself if you’re nervous, and is there anything you do to boost your confidence when you need it?

How I respond to nervousness, stress and anxiety all depend heavily upon what's going on and who's involved. The only thing that shakes my self-confidence is Social Anxiety and I'm getting progressively better through exposure therapy. That's the main thing to do for it when you're ready.

Do you have any of those Jac Vanek bracelets, or how about any friendship bracelets?

I JFGI and I like the fearless, brutal, beautiful, courage, just sayin' and wild child ones from his sassy and sarcastic collection at his website.

My bracelets are more ornate-looking in silver and gold tones, but I do have one BF bracelet. I actually got it from my maternal grandmother who gave Mom a set and she gave the other to me.

Have you ever said you were going to become a gypsy, or have you ever thought about it?

I've never really wanted to do that and I think that it's a lifestyle you're born into. Just being a traveler is different than being a real gypsy, so I don't use it as a synonym for being a free-spirited wanderer.

It's the term I'd use for travelers who most likely speak Romany and make a traditional living through itinerant trade and fortune-telling.

How do you let go of petty things that're bothering you; is it easy for you to let things like being insulted by a stranger go?

You can still respond to people without getting upset about what a stranger has to say. That's how I am because I'm not afraid of confrontation.

I'm pretty upfront and courageous. Petty things don't really weigh me down even if I get into it with someone. That's not my style.

Of all the reality competitions you’ve watched, who're some of your all-time favorite contestants and what shows were they from?

I don't usually have all-time faves for such, but I did love Alan Kay and Dave McIntyre from the first and second seasons of History's Alone which is an outdoor survival competition.

The third year winner wasn't as memorable for me and I was pulling for the other person in the top two who's also a winner in my book.

Do you like to read or hear spoilers about your favorite shows or new movies, or would you rather know nothing until you actually saw it?

Spoilers don't tend to bother me unless they're clinchers that you really, really don't want to know until you've gone through the content for yourself. 

Less crucial spoilers aren't a bother. They can make me more eager about getting into something, actually.

[marymosley]

Credibility of Forensic Expert Testimony in Criminal Cases in India

With the advancement in recent scientific technology in scientific area ,it is well accepted fact that the testified data  or physical evidence obtained can be of no value unit it is properly interpreted the court of law.As we have saying that ‘law without justice is wound without cure’and to provide justice, we need to prove those testified credentials with proper written report (testimony) by the person which we called in our day to day life practice as ‘expert’.

Who is expert?

Acc. to sec 45 of Indian evidence act,1872-Expert is referred to that person who has special set of knowledge or skills in a particular field i.e.(fingerprint impression, handwriting,foreign laws etc.) and is called by court to give his opinion within his/her area of expertise.

What is expert testimony?

Expert testimony is presented in a legal proceeding when the judge lacks in scientific knowledge and has to form an conclusion on some special cases especially when is there is no eyewitness.Under such condition, the judiciary laws are relaxed and the conclusion are drawn from the opinion witness(expert) under sec 45 Indian evidence act,1872.

It is a kind of written report which includes:

·       Basic information related to evidence

·       Conclusion and opinion

·       Valid reason for supporting the opinion to the fact of the case.

Credibility of expert testimony

Expert testimony is the ‘hallmark of corroboration’ which connects the evidence to the facts of the case and thus plays key roles in pursuit of the justice delivery. It plays a pivotal role in strengthening the procedural right and in proving the innocence or guilty of the particular person. The sanctity of the statements made by the expert is considered to be correct and factual by the judge as they are made by after the long analysis, experience and keen observation of the evidence. Credibility of the skilled forensic expert is like virginity; once it lost it cannot be regained. The most important point to be noted while deciding the credibility of the expert testimony depend on whether–Witness is gaining the correct information, he has curiosity in discovering the truth or, he has confidence in presenting his analyze testimony.

The credibility of the expert testimony lies in the fact of its relevancy, admissibility, and presence/absence of eyewitness.

Sec 45-sec51 Indian evidence act, 1872 is related to the relevancy in different evidence matter.

1.     Sec 45–This section seals with the relevancy of the opinion of the expert and the expert witness may be cross examined in the court.

2.     Sec 45(A)-Opinion of examiner of electronic device.

3.     Sec 46- Facts bearing upon the opinion of experts.

4.     Sec 47-Relevancy to opinion as to handwriting.

5.     Sec 48-Relevancy of opinion as to existence of right or custom.

6.     Sec 49-Relevancy of opinion as to usages and tenets etc.

7.     Sec 50- Relevancy of opinion as to relationship.

8.     Sec 51-Ground of opinion when relevant.

Sec 293 CrPc, deals with the admissibility of the expert opinion –This law states the expert opinions are admissible even without his presence in the court and court can call him for personal attendance if its fits to the court.

Presence or absence of eyewitness– In the absence of any eyewitness court rely on the analyzed facts and figure of expert opinion based on his observation, skills and knowledge  as the expert opinion is of advisory character so it help in forming the decision or conclusion even though the value of expert opinion is of great value if the data collected is so great to falsify the oral evidence or ocular witness.

Difference between expert evidence and evidence of the ordinary witness

Evidence of expert Evidence of ordinary person 1.Expert form his opinion regarding the handwriting,nature of injury,physical evidence analysis etc. 1. An ordinary witness states the facts related to the what he has seen during the incident. 2. It is advisory in nature. 2.  It is conclusive in nature. 3.Court can’t pass the order of conviction on the basis of expert opinion. 3. There may be chance that court can pass the order of conviction on the basis of ocular witness. 4.Expert form his opinion on the basis of his skills,knowledge and observations. 4. Ordinary witness form opinion on the basis of the basis of hearsay evidence or what he has seen or perceived.

  Case study:

NIRBHAYA vs. STATE OF UTTAR PRADESH, 2012 –“rarest of rare case”

To understand the importance of expert testimony in criminal investigation. Let us look at the rape        case which was solved after 7 years with the help of DNA, bite marks and fingerprints impression recovered from the victim body and from the place where incident happened. In 2012, a 23-year old girl was found badly injured and sexually assaulted in a bus in Munirka, South Delhi. Police collected all the physical evidence and interviewed her family, friends and possible suspects, and at last all the 6 men were caught, out of which one was juvenile and one person died during trial and the investigation continued for 7 years. The semen found on the cloth help in extracting the DNA and from the bus handle fingerprints was collected which shows the presence of driver in that brutal crime.All the evidence was tested and expert provide their testimony on the basis of which judged punished 4 of them with death penalty and the juvenile was sentenced to 3 yrs jail acc. to juvenile justice act.This and many other cases showed that how biological evidence play pivotal role in strengthening the importance and credibility of expert testimony in the absence of eyewitness specially.

Conclusion

From the above study we conclude that expert testimony help jury to draw an inference as the testified facts and data act as reliable advisory testimony, but expert opinion cannot take the place of oral evidence opinion unless the analyses substantial facts are so great as to falsify the oral witness. Percentage of credibility depends on the types of evidence to be testified.

References:

1. https://ift.tt/eLIxHO

2. 21th century –criminology –a reference handbook by J.H Michel miller

3. https://ift.tt/3b220Av

4. https://ift.tt/2KTX5Hb

5 .Brandon L. Garrett and peter J. Neufed, “invalid forensic science testimony and wrongful convictions”, ,vol. 95,No- 1,2009,pp-8-29,

Author: Shivani Chauhan, Intern at Legal Desire (2020)

Highly ambitious, enthusiastic, multi-talented forensic student with an creative mind  and inquisitive nature to gain experience in the field of cyber security, ethical hacking and forensic criminology. Looking forward to build her career in some forensic research worked as an expert. During her graduation in chemistry (hons.), she work as an organizer in SCM( supply chain management) conference and got 1 week training on flow cytometry in Jamia hamdard university . she is currently pursuing master’s in forensics and had attended international conferences on cyber security threats and counter measures and also working on research article to be published soon.

The post Credibility of Forensic Expert Testimony in Criminal Cases in India appeared first on Legal Desire.

Credibility of Forensic Expert Testimony in Criminal Cases in India published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

[trendingnewsb]

The Creepy Genetics Behind the Golden State Killer Case

For the dozen years between 1974 and 1986, he rained down terror across the state of California. He went by many names: the East Side Rapist, the Visalia Ransacker, the Original Night Stalker, the Golden State Killer. And on Wednesday, law enforcement officials announced they think they finally have his real name: Joseph James DeAngelo. Police arrested the 72-year-old Tuesday; he’s accused of committing more than 50 rapes and 12 murders.

In the end, it wasn’t stakeouts or fingerprints or cell phone records that got him. It was a genealogy website.

FBI

Lead investigator Paul Holes, a retired Contra Costa County District Attorney inspector, told the Mercury News late Thursday night that his team used GEDmatch, a no-frills Florida-based website that pools raw genetic profiles shared publicly by their owners, to find the man believed to be one of California’s most notorious criminals. A spokeswoman for the Sacramento County District Attorney’s Office reached Friday morning would not comment or confirm the report.

GEDmatch—a reference to the data file format GEDCOM, developed by the Mormon church to share genealogical information—caters to curious folks searching for missing relatives or filling in family trees. The mostly volunteer-run platform exists “to provide DNA and genealogy tools for comparison and research services,” the site’s policy page states. Most of its tools for tracking down matches are free; users just have to register and upload copies of their raw DNA files exported from genetic testing services like 23andMe and Ancestry. These two companies don’t allow law enforcement to access their customer databases unless they get a court order. Neither 23andMe nor Ancestry was approached by investigators in this case, according to spokespeople for the companies.

But no court order would be needed to mine GEDmatch’s open-source database of more than 650,000 genetically connected profiles. Using sequence data somehow wrung from old crime scene samples, police could create a genetic profile for their suspect and and upload it to the free site. As the Sacramento Bee first reported, that gave them a pool of relatives who all shared some of that incriminating genetic material. Then they could use other clues—like age and sex and place of residence—to rule out suspects. Eventually the search narrowed down to just DeAngelo. To confirm their suspicions, police staked out his Citrus Heights home and obtained his DNA from something he discarded, then ran it against multiple crime scene samples. They were a match.

“It’s fitting that today is National DNA Day,” said Anne Marie Schubert, the Sacramento district attorney, at a press conference announcing the arrest Wednesday afternoon. A champion of genetic forensics, Schubert convened a task force two years ago to re-energize the cold case with DNA technology. “We found the needle in the haystack, and it was right here in Sacramento.”

After four decades of failure, no one could blame law enforcement officials for celebrating. But how they came to suspect DeAngelo, and eventually put him in cuffs, raises troubling questions about what constitutes due process and civil liberty amid the explosive proliferation of commercial DNA testing.

FBI

DNA evidence has been a cornerstone of forensic science for decades, and rightly so. It’s way more accurate than hair or bite-mark analysis. But the routine DNA tests used by crime labs aren’t anything like what you get if you send your spit to a commercial testing company. Cops look at a panel of 20 regions of repeating locations in the genome that don’t code for proteins. Because those repeating sections vary so much from individual to individual, they’re good for matching two samples—but only if the suspect is already in the criminal databases maintained by US law enforcement. Investigators in the Golden State Killer case had long had DNA, but there was no one in their files with which to match it. And so the case went cold.

Companies like 23andMe and Ancestry, on the one hand, probe the coding regions of DNA, to see what mysteries someone’s genes might be hiding—a heightened risk for cancer, or perhaps a long lost cousin. While those areas may be less prone to variation between individual samples, the number of customers who have received these tests—more than 10 million between both services—means that detectives can triangulate an individual. Maybe even a mass murderer. Thanks to the (biological) laws of inheritance, suspected criminals don’t have to have been tested themselves for bits of their DNA to be caught up in the dragnet of a criminal fishing investigation.

So far, these leaders in the consumer DNA testing space have denied ever turning over any customer genetic data to the police. Not that they haven’t been asked for it. According to the 23andMe’s self-reported data, law enforcement has requested information on a total of five American 23andMe customers. Ancestry’s published transparency reports state that it has provided some customer information—but it was in response to requests related to credit card fraud and identity theft, and none of it was genetic in nature.

Representatives from both companies said that police can’t simply upload a DNA profile they have from old crime scenes and sign up for the company’s services, allowing them to find genetic relatives and compare detailed chromosome segment data. Not because impersonating someone necessarily constitutes a violation of the their terms and conditions—people use fake names and email accounts occasionally to maintain privacy—but because they don’t accept digital files. The database entrance fee is a mandatory three milliliters of saliva.

Cops have found ways around this before. In 2014, a New Orleans filmmaker named Michael Usry was arrested for the 1996 murder of an 18-year-old girl in Idaho Falls, after investigators turned up a “partial match” between semen found on the victim’s body and DNA from Usry’s father. A familial connection they found by sifting through DNA samples donated by Mormon churchgoers, including Usry’s father, for a genealogy project. Ancestry later purchased the database and made the genetic profiles (though not the names associated with them) publicly searchable. A search warrant got them to turn over the identity of the partial match.

After 33 days in police custody a DNA test cleared Michael Usry, and Ancestry has since shuttered the database. But it highlighted two big potential problems with this kind of familial searching. On the other are questions of efficacy—nongovernmental databases, whether public or private, haven’t been vetted for use by law enforcement, even as they’re increasingly being used as crime-fighting tools. More worrying though are the privacy concerns—most people who get their DNA tested for the fun of it don’t expect their genetic code might one day be scrutinized by cops. And people who’ve never been tested certainly don’t expect their genes to turn them into suspects.

Those questions get even thornier as more and more people have their DNA tested and then liberate that information from the walled off databases of private companies. GEDmatch’s policies don’t explicitly ask its users to contemplate the risks the wider network might incur on account of any one individual’s choices. “While the results presented on this site are intended solely for genealogical research, we are unable to guarantee that users will not find other uses,” it states. “If you find the possibility unacceptable, please remove your data from this site.” GEDmatch did not immediately respond to a request for comment

Legal experts say investigators wouldn’t break any laws in accessing a publicly available database like GEDmatch, which exists expressly to map that connectivity. “The tension though is that any sample that gets uploaded also is providing information that could to lead to relatives that either haven’t consented to have their information made public, or even know it’s been done,” says Jennifer Mnookin, dean of the UCLA School of Law and a founder of its program on understanding forensic science evidence. “That’s not necessarily wrong, but it leads to a web of information that implicates a population well beyond those who made a decision themselves to be included.”

That’s the same argument that critics have made against more traditional kinds of forensic familial searches—where a partial DNA match reveals any of a suspect’s relatives already in a criminal database. But those searches are at least regulated, to different extent, by federal and state laws. In California, investigators have to get approval from a state Department of Justice committee to run a familial DNA search through a criminal database, which limits use of the technique to particularly heinous crimes. A similar search on a site like GEDmatch requires no such oversight.

In the case of the Golden State Killer, the distinction doesn’t seem that important. But what if police started using these tools for much lesser crimes? “If these techniques became widely used there’s a risk a lot of innocent people would be caught in a web of genetic suspicion and subject to heightened scrutiny,” says Mnookin. While she’s impressed with the ingenuity of the investigators in this case to track down their suspect, she can’t help but see it as a step toward a genetic surveillance state. “That’s what’s hard about this,” she says. “We don’t have a blood taint in this country. Guilt shouldn’t travel by familial association, whether your brother is a felon or an amateur genealogist.”

More Genetic Informants

Did you know your fingerprints contain traces of DNA? Cops do. But that doesn't mean they always get it right.

Here's the full story on how one Mormon ancestry project turned innocent people into crime suspects.

When regular DNA lab tests fails, more and more investigators are turning something called probabilistic genotyping. But can code from an unknown algorithm really deliver justice?

Related Video

Science

Crispr Gene Editing Explained

Maybe you've heard of Crispr, the gene editing tool that could forever change life. So what is it and how does it work? Let us explain.

Read more: https://www.wired.com/story/detectives-cracked-the-golden-state-killer-case-using-genetics/

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2KzkYBu via Viral News HQ

[peter-author]

What's the Point of Gender Identity?  

Fifteen years ago I needed a pistol on the farm – we had rabid raccoons, out in the daylight. A neighbor got bitten. So I went to Turni’s Store in Millerton and Phil told me I needed a pistol permit. I went off to Poughkeepsie and filled in the forms at the police station. The officer there took my fingerprints and reviewed my responses, “What are you a smart-alek? Under race you put human, you’re Caucasian.”

I responded, “Actually, no one in my family is from the Caucuses so I doubt that. If you are trying to have physical identification, I can’t say white either because I have Italian skin, slightly olive if anything.”

“Yep, you’re a smart-alek.” I insisted I wasn’t. I understood the police need for identification. If I sat out in the sun all summer my skin goes a light chocolate. Then how’s that helping with ID? In the end he saw my point. If their form had asked for identifying skin or facial features, then that’s fine, but race? What for? It doesn’t really work anyway. Now, if they want a DNA test to see what my race is, okay, fine. But a wild guess that has no identifying meaning?

This whole discussion of gender identity for everyday life is much the same. Seeing Mary Martin as Peter Pan - does it matter if she’s male or female? Come to think on it, since all schools and parents teach their kids to evaluate people based on who they are, not how much money they have, not on how attractive they are, or how cool – does it really fit into that teaching experience to start with: “Make sure if you’re talking to a female or male?”

Now, whoever you’re attracted to, that does make a difference. But everyone else? Does their gender really influence how you think of that person? And if it does, what does that say about your bias? If I asked you if you think of a female or male employee or co-worker differently because of their gender, isn’t your thinking anachronistic and outdated? People are people. Unless you are thinking about dating them, or courting them, or marrying them – really, don’t you think you need to deal with your bias instead of evaluating their gender as a means to form your opinion?

And there’s another issue here which will, I predict in years to come, be called upon: Hormone levels’ measurement. Just how much male are you, or how much female? A hormone test could show you’re female but have elevated male hormones making you 75% female. Does that mean you’re not fully female? Yeah, right, try getting that accepted as a means to classification on a police form or for military service. The Israeli army has this right for women. You’re a soldier, period. Nowhere on your service record does your gender mean a damn thing.

Okay, I’ll admit, I’m old and this has taken a long time to evolve in me. As sexual animals, humans do tend to evaluate those we meet either as potential mates or adversaries. That’s in the DNA. What I am asking here, and it’s really a simple issue, what’s the purpose of gender identity beyond sexual attraction (or police identification)? And as for the bathroom issue I have an equally simple solution: Build better bathrooms with cubicle doors and stop needing two water systems, two types of toilet facilities. The outcome for men? Probably less mess (the shame might make them men careful).

[trendingnewsb]

The Creepy Genetics Behind the Golden State Killer Case

For the dozen years between 1974 and 1986, he rained down terror across the state of California. He went by many names: the East Side Rapist, the Visalia Ransacker, the Original Night Stalker, the Golden State Killer. And on Wednesday, law enforcement officials announced they think they finally have his real name: Joseph James DeAngelo. Police arrested the 72-year-old Tuesday; he’s accused of committing more than 50 rapes and 12 murders.

In the end, it wasn’t stakeouts or fingerprints or cell phone records that got him. It was a genealogy website.

FBI

Lead investigator Paul Holes, a retired Contra Costa County District Attorney inspector, told the Mercury News late Thursday night that his team used GEDmatch, a no-frills Florida-based website that pools raw genetic profiles shared publicly by their owners, to find the man believed to be one of California’s most notorious criminals. A spokeswoman for the Sacramento County District Attorney’s Office reached Friday morning would not comment or confirm the report.

GEDmatch—a reference to the data file format GEDCOM, developed by the Mormon church to share genealogical information—caters to curious folks searching for missing relatives or filling in family trees. The mostly volunteer-run platform exists “to provide DNA and genealogy tools for comparison and research services,” the site’s policy page states. Most of its tools for tracking down matches are free; users just have to register and upload copies of their raw DNA files exported from genetic testing services like 23andMe and Ancestry. These two companies don’t allow law enforcement to access their customer databases unless they get a court order. Neither 23andMe nor Ancestry was approached by investigators in this case, according to spokespeople for the companies.

But no court order would be needed to mine GEDmatch’s open-source database of more than 650,000 genetically connected profiles. Using sequence data somehow wrung from old crime scene samples, police could create a genetic profile for their suspect and and upload it to the free site. As the Sacramento Bee first reported, that gave them a pool of relatives who all shared some of that incriminating genetic material. Then they could use other clues—like age and sex and place of residence—to rule out suspects. Eventually the search narrowed down to just DeAngelo. To confirm their suspicions, police staked out his Citrus Heights home and obtained his DNA from something he discarded, then ran it against multiple crime scene samples. They were a match.

“It’s fitting that today is National DNA Day,” said Anne Marie Schubert, the Sacramento district attorney, at a press conference announcing the arrest Wednesday afternoon. A champion of genetic forensics, Schubert convened a task force two years ago to re-energize the cold case with DNA technology. “We found the needle in the haystack, and it was right here in Sacramento.”

After four decades of failure, no one could blame law enforcement officials for celebrating. But how they came to suspect DeAngelo, and eventually put him in cuffs, raises troubling questions about what constitutes due process and civil liberty amid the explosive proliferation of commercial DNA testing.

FBI

DNA evidence has been a cornerstone of forensic science for decades, and rightly so. It’s way more accurate than hair or bite-mark analysis. But the routine DNA tests used by crime labs aren’t anything like what you get if you send your spit to a commercial testing company. Cops look at a panel of 20 regions of repeating locations in the genome that don’t code for proteins. Because those repeating sections vary so much from individual to individual, they’re good for matching two samples—but only if the suspect is already in the criminal databases maintained by US law enforcement. Investigators in the Golden State Killer case had long had DNA, but there was no one in their files with which to match it. And so the case went cold.

Companies like 23andMe and Ancestry, on the one hand, probe the coding regions of DNA, to see what mysteries someone’s genes might be hiding—a heightened risk for cancer, or perhaps a long lost cousin. While those areas may be less prone to variation between individual samples, the number of customers who have received these tests—more than 10 million between both services—means that detectives can triangulate an individual. Maybe even a mass murderer. Thanks to the (biological) laws of inheritance, suspected criminals don’t have to have been tested themselves for bits of their DNA to be caught up in the dragnet of a criminal fishing investigation.

So far, these leaders in the consumer DNA testing space have denied ever turning over any customer genetic data to the police. Not that they haven’t been asked for it. According to the 23andMe’s self-reported data, law enforcement has requested information on a total of five American 23andMe customers. Ancestry’s published transparency reports state that it has provided some customer information—but it was in response to requests related to credit card fraud and identity theft, and none of it was genetic in nature.

Representatives from both companies said that police can’t simply upload a DNA profile they have from old crime scenes and sign up for the company’s services, allowing them to find genetic relatives and compare detailed chromosome segment data. Not because impersonating someone necessarily constitutes a violation of the their terms and conditions—people use fake names and email accounts occasionally to maintain privacy—but because they don’t accept digital files. The database entrance fee is a mandatory three milliliters of saliva.

Cops have found ways around this before. In 2014, a New Orleans filmmaker named Michael Usry was arrested for the 1996 murder of an 18-year-old girl in Idaho Falls, after investigators turned up a “partial match” between semen found on the victim’s body and DNA from Usry’s father. A familial connection they found by sifting through DNA samples donated by Mormon churchgoers, including Usry’s father, for a genealogy project. Ancestry later purchased the database and made the genetic profiles (though not the names associated with them) publicly searchable. A search warrant got them to turn over the identity of the partial match.

After 33 days in police custody a DNA test cleared Michael Usry, and Ancestry has since shuttered the database. But it highlighted two big potential problems with this kind of familial searching. On the other are questions of efficacy—nongovernmental databases, whether public or private, haven’t been vetted for use by law enforcement, even as they’re increasingly being used as crime-fighting tools. More worrying though are the privacy concerns—most people who get their DNA tested for the fun of it don’t expect their genetic code might one day be scrutinized by cops. And people who’ve never been tested certainly don’t expect their genes to turn them into suspects.

Those questions get even thornier as more and more people have their DNA tested and then liberate that information from the walled off databases of private companies. GEDmatch’s policies don’t explicitly ask its users to contemplate the risks the wider network might incur on account of any one individual’s choices. “While the results presented on this site are intended solely for genealogical research, we are unable to guarantee that users will not find other uses,” it states. “If you find the possibility unacceptable, please remove your data from this site.” GEDmatch did not immediately respond to a request for comment

Legal experts say investigators wouldn’t break any laws in accessing a publicly available database like GEDmatch, which exists expressly to map that connectivity. “The tension though is that any sample that gets uploaded also is providing information that could to lead to relatives that either haven’t consented to have their information made public, or even know it’s been done,” says Jennifer Mnookin, dean of the UCLA School of Law and a founder of its program on understanding forensic science evidence. “That’s not necessarily wrong, but it leads to a web of information that implicates a population well beyond those who made a decision themselves to be included.”

That’s the same argument that critics have made against more traditional kinds of forensic familial searches—where a partial DNA match reveals any of a suspect’s relatives already in a criminal database. But those searches are at least regulated, to different extent, by federal and state laws. In California, investigators have to get approval from a state Department of Justice committee to run a familial DNA search through a criminal database, which limits use of the technique to particularly heinous crimes. A similar search on a site like GEDmatch requires no such oversight.

In the case of the Golden State Killer, the distinction doesn’t seem that important. But what if police started using these tools for much lesser crimes? “If these techniques became widely used there’s a risk a lot of innocent people would be caught in a web of genetic suspicion and subject to heightened scrutiny,” says Mnookin. While she’s impressed with the ingenuity of the investigators in this case to track down their suspect, she can’t help but see it as a step toward a genetic surveillance state. “That’s what’s hard about this,” she says. “We don’t have a blood taint in this country. Guilt shouldn’t travel by familial association, whether your brother is a felon or an amateur genealogist.”

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