Realistic or Modern The Last Scene of Struggling

[weemanv1]

Name: Scott Tyson

Nicknames/Aliases: Jackal

Gender: Male

Age/Birthday: Twenty-seven

Powers/Abilities: Jackal has various animal-traits. His strength, speed, and senses are all enhanced beyond a human's and he has fangs and retractable claws. His metabolism is slightly increased as well which helps him heal from wounds faster at the expense of needing to keep his energy up more to compensate

Personality: He's cynical and sarcastic. He still holds a strong sense of justice despite being a bit rougher with criminals and villains and he only kills when there is no other option. Despite being a quiet and cynical man, he still tries to be a good person and knows to do the right thing. He can be friendlier once gets to know and like someone.

Appearance: Scott is average in height at five foot seven and his slim, muscular frame hides the actual strength he holds. His hair is long and shaggy, falling to about his chin and is a simple brown in colour. He has brown eyes to match and has a small amount of facial hair over his face and neck. For a costume he wears a more traditional suit that is black with silver highlights and a domino mask to somewhat hide his identity. Over top he wears a faded, grey overcoat simply so he has pockets for anything he may need to carry. He was never one for utility belts. Generally forgoes the costume when working nowadays as being a private investigator is his main job while his superheroing is part-time.

Likes: Any type of whiskey, the company of a woman, fried food, dogs

Dislikes: People who hurt kids, people who hurt the few people he cares for, dentists

Strengths: He has an incredible drive and will to never give up no matter how hopeless the situation may be. He has a strong sense of justice and despite maybe not coming off as the nicest person, he always wants to do the right thing. His powers allow him to be incredibly perceptive and he can pick up on small details using his enhanced senses.

Weaknesses: With that will comes a stubbornness that keeps him from giving up when it would be the best option at times. He also has a womanizing problem. Surprisingly, he does not have a drinking problem as his body processes alcohol faster than any normal human.

 

[CJWrites]

Name: Drake Wu
Alias: Longshadow, fka Evanescence
Age: 19
Superpowers: None
Abilities: Computer Expert, Martial Artist

Appearance:
Drake has windswept black hair and brown eyes. He has a relatively light body and relies on his speed and skill more so than his strength in combat. He is five foot five and can usually be seen in a grey or red sweater with worn blue jeans on the university campus. He hated his gaudy slate grey and light blue outfit as Evanescence, but his mentor sent him a black bodysuit with red streaks and a face mask when she heard about his night time escapades. Instead, he wears a black sweater and pants when he does need to go on site to retrieve data.

Personality:
Drake follows Buddism quite closely, refusing to drink alcohol or eat meat and adopting a pacifist lifestyle. He's humble, kind and gracious. His pacifist nature and desire for a quiet life clash with his inability to see corruption and let it slide. He has taken up continuing the same work he did under Clairvoyant, albeit a lot more covertly and doesn't deal with petty street criminals anymore.

Bio:

Drake's background before his adoption is a mystery but it is assumed he came somewhere from China as he still has a hint of an accent. We know he was the victim of the overcrowded foster system and his foster parents were simply too busy to spend much time with him. Instead, he spent all his time with his buddies in the computer club. One day when he was 13, he found a security flaw in Avalon system and reported it. Their CTO, Morgan Bates, was so impressed, she took the boy in as her own ward and adopted him a year later, something documented closely by the tabloids.

Unknown to him at the time, Morgan Bates was also the superhero known as Clairvoyant, and one day, he coming comming home from her nightly patrol and started sneaking out to join her. Morgan has telekinetic powers which allow her to fly.

He is currently studying Computer Science at a university and is attempting to leave the superhero world behind but has taken up the name Longshadow in uncovering and releasing confidential documents exposing corruption.

He's not yet made peace with the fact that as a vigilante and violating the morals he believes in so much.

 

[weemanv1]

Gerald Clark was a wealthy businessman. He owned his own company, the appropriately named Clark Industries that was a leading name in pharmaceutical research. People had decried big pharma for years and this one man had built his company around making things right as he would so often put it. Though it seemed like a few empty words he was truthful and honest. Many strides in medical research had been made in a matter of years. Many forms of cancer were treatable at least to further prolong life and tricky diseases such as Alzheimer’s were aggressively being targeted and studied; more than ever before. All in all, Gerald Clark was a good man…and here he laid cold and dead on the floor of his office.

It was all over the news as his receptionist had found him unmoving that evening. Gerald had been working late as he often did and she was about to check on him to let him know that she was going to go home for the evening. That was when she found the body. From there the police had been called and a crime scene was established. News reporters were taking whatever info they could from the ground floor. At that time no one could say what to make of it. Even the coroner was unsure despite that she had evidence to work with.

This was why he was called in. A private investigator by trade and a general vigilante on the side Scott was often called in to help when a crime scene was beginning to seem a bit out of the ordinary. The moment he stepped through the doors and over the police tape he immediately became suspicious. No scent of blood. No sign of forced entry or struggle. No sign that anyone had been here aside from those who normally were. It bothered him. His senses were so strongly attuned that he would be able to pick up on subtle smells and sights, but whatever had happened had been done professionally. They knew he would be called in.

”Rhonda,” he greeted casually. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he met the coroner. “What can you tell me?” He had his own opinions, but they each had their specializations. Her information would hopefully help him to reach a conclusion.

”Not much I’m afraid…” she sighed, turning back down to face the body. “Cause of death is asphyxiation. From there…it gets tricky…” She knelt down and motioned for Scott to follow, which he did. “Look at the throat. The bruising, the crushed windpipe and Adam’s apple. Clearly something was wrapped around his neck, but…”

”It wasn’t a rope. Wasn’t a chain either. The markings don’t match,” Scott concluded. “It’s smooth,” he commented as well.

”If a traditional weapon wasn’t used, we have to assume that there was another factor at play here,” Rhonda explained. “How many metas are on file that can generate tendrils of variable thickness? Or have them as a part of their person?”

”Too many…” Scott shook his head. “Doesn’t mean anything. Could be a new player in town. Could be someone who’s just really good at hiding their tracks. I don’t have a scent or anything in here that doesn’t belong.” He rose back to his feet. “Either way I’ll take a look around the office. I have a few hunches as to what the reasoning might be…” But he said nothing of it. Not out loud anyway. “Give me a call when you’ve examined the body more thoroughly. Hopefully we can come to a more concrete conclusion by then.” With a final nod to the coroner, he was on his way to examine the office.

If and only if they were dealing with a meta, Scott could not rule out any point of entry. Without knowing what type of power they were dealing with he could reach as far as a cosmic horror teleporting into the office. He didn’t think it was likely, but not impossible either. More practically for anyone who could fly was the window since they were on the top floor of a one hundred story building. Shapeshifters could travel through air vents with ease, and of course there were even those who could step through the shadows. He really wasn’t getting any closer. There didn’t even seem to be a piece of paper out of place on his desk.

”Hey, Scott!” He looked away from the desk to the officer who had called to him. “Er…I mean Detective Tyson…”

“Scott’s fine, Riley. What is it?”

“I was doing some research because I thought this sounded familiar. Look at this,” The young officer handed his tablet over to Scott and it showed a news story of another murder in another state. Though the cause of death was different the similarities were clear to see. There was no sign of anyone getting in or out and very few if any clues were left at the crime scene. When he flicked to the next tab he came to another similar story in England and the next tab yet shared another story in Japan.

”They’re all almost the same. Wealthy, good-meaning business people are being targeted all over the world,” Riley explained. “This can’t be a coincidence, right?”

Scott was reluctant to answer. Riley was right, but if so that also meant that this was bigger than him. It meant he might need to find some help of his own to tackle a case this big. He did not like that idea. “That’s good critical thinking, Riley. Keep that up and you’ll make detective in no time.” He handed the tablet back and despite not having uttered a “thank you” the young officer could not have appeared happier.

Having found nothing on hand Scott decided it was time to leave and do some research on his own. He spoke a goodbye to Rhonda with a reminder to call him once she learned anything more and headed out of the office. One elevator ride later and he was on the ground floor heading out the doors. Immediately he took a hard right to avoid the news cameras and was on his way home. He needed to investigate digitally now. He needed to find a way to connect the dots and decide the best course of action.

 

[CJWrites]

Pretty sketchy, huh," Drake commented, "Fourth one in two months"

The female voice on the other end gave an exasperated chuckle, but Drake found the whole situation rather humourless.

He closed his eyes and remembered the newspaper articles Yuzuru Nobunari, President of Nanami Motors. Benjamin Kerr, CEO of the Royal Petroleum Corporation. Harvey Chavez, Chief Financial Officer of the Bank of New York. Now Gerald Clark, CEO of Clark Pharmaceuticals.

All beloved Fortune 500 businessmen, strangled in their office without a struggle behind a locked door.

"Weren't they all Avalon Customers?" Drake wondered. But he knew it held little weight. Almost all corporations used Avalon.

"And not a single toe out of line." The voice hummed. "But people get murdered for a reason, any insight?"

To ask him, well Morgan Bates must be really desperate. It means these people were either complete angels or supremely careful. Drake knew it was wrong for his mentor to look into customer data. It was one thing to collect it for analytics or advertising, carefully secured in servers and touched only by bots, but to use a backend and look up the movement of anyone who has their GPS open, the search history of anyone connected to the internet. His mentor had gathered enough dirt to upend the entire country if she wanted to. Not that she wouldn't be flushing herself down the drain as well if word ever got out.

"I couldn't find anything on them more than tax evasion," Drake said darkly. "The legal loophole kind, not the criminal kind"

"The Seattle Times mentioned something about a faceless vigilante stopping a drug shipment. And it wasn't the Jackel this time. Your phone was close to the harbour that night."

Drake scowled. Morgan always knew. "So what? There was a tip, and I acted on it."

"Be careful," the tone was a lot more serious "And use the domino mask, if not the costume. You can't afford to be seen"

She was one to talk. Clairvoyant never used a mask, preferring to stay in the shadows instead. Morgan thought it cramped her style.

"I should be telling you, that," Drake said instead, changing the topic. "These murders "

Morgan laughed. "Let them try, They're in for a surprise." Morgan wasn't registered as a Meta, and she had no intention to. Besides, she was one of the most paranoid people Drake knew. It was highly unlikely for someone to sneak past the security system, undetected Morgan's heat sensors, and manage to attack and overpower her where she kept a stash of knives and smoke bombs. It didn't stop him from worrying.

Morgan continued. " Besides, I'm far from upstanding. Whoever it is, seems to be targeting disliked industries. Who doesn't hate Wall Street, Big Oil and Big Pharma? And wasn't Nanami in a scandal last year? It's how Nobnari was appointed. There are hundreds of execs who haven't been offed. I won't worry just yet."

Drake sighed, knowing that his worries were largely unfounded. "Alright then," He sounded unconvinced. "I have to get back to homework. I'll call you if something pops."

He could practically hear her smirk as he hung up. Her eyes would definitely be periodically glancing at a feed of where Drake's phone and laptop were for the next couple of hours. But it was impossible to do his work without these devices. He glowered at his phone before throwing it onto his bed and walking to his closet, he took out a black backpack and slipped his laptop, a black sweater and a couple other gadgets inside. He looked at the suit, untouched other than the time he took it out of the package and hung it up. Shrugging, he slipped the mask into his pocket and made his way to the scene of the crime. Maybe he could pick up something the police had missed.

 

[weemanv1]

At first he wasn’t going to say anything. He was going to act as if he hadn’t even noticed. Scott could not ignore the coincidence however. If the odds were that one vigilante had shown up at the scene of the crime then surely another or even more could be on their way. While reluctant to share duties with someone else, he found himself slowing his pace until he stopped. He stood and stared directly ahead, seriously contemplating if he should turn and speak to Drake. Loathe as he was to admit it; the younger hero had just the skills that he needed at the moment. Research wasn’t exactly the problem, but odds were that he would need to delve deeper and that would require some outside help. Ultimately he heaved his shoulders and audibly sighed before turning back towards the scene of the crime and promptly jogging to catch up to Drake.

“Hey kid!” The name clearly lacked respect, especially since there wasn’t even ten years between the two. It was what Scott would continue to call him though and probably even further into his adulthood than Drake might have liked. Having called to get his attention he closed the gap between them and slowed to match his pace as well. From there he once more became hesitant to speak as if asking for help was almost painful to him. It took some awkward moments of silently following along before he could utter something out.

“You’re heading towards the Clark building, right?” he asked. “I just came from there. Crime scene’s a dead end,” he explained, which in this case was actually true rather than trying to deter the other hero. “That said…” Again he grew hesitant, trying to find the words to ask for assistance while still sounding like he hadn’t completely lost control of the case. “There are plenty of ways this could have gone. I was going to do some research of my own, but you’d get through it faster I’m sure.” That was all he had to say. From there he planned to tag along whether Drake agreed to his non-request or not.

 

[CJWrites]

Drake turned around, finally hearing someone yelling at him through his music. He took out his headphones.

"What?" He tried to look puzzled, cocking his head and blinking his eyes in an almost cartoonish manner. "Why would I be headed there?"

Then he noticed who the voice had come from.

"Oh. It's only you." Drake relaxed somewhat and stashed his headphones in his pocket. He didn't seem to be offended by the nickname. In fact, Drake secretly preferred it. Scott was under the impression Drake's real name was Drayden Lee. Drake was a terrible liar and the Pokemon game had been the first thing that sprang to his mind in the moment.

"Yeah sure," Drake shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Let's go. I assume the police called you in? I'll help, as long as I stay anonymous."

It was one thing he'd made clear from the beginning. Scott probably thought of him a regular student who didn't want to be in jail or flee to Russia for everything he did. Drake was more afraid for Claire. If people knew Drake Wu was actually Longshadow, they might start connecting the dots from him to Evanescence and Clairvoyant to Morgan. Drake had been too afraid to tell Morgan he'd been compromised, knowing she would flip and demand he come back to San Francisco. Despite not being very motherly, Drake was sure he would get a two-hour lecture for not wearing that ridiculous getup.

He hesitated a bit before asking. "You know this is bigger than either of us, right? Clark's just the latest in the line. All outstanding entrepreneurs with clean records. There isn't anything they did that could have gotten them killed, at least as far as I can tell."

He was showing his cards, but Scott obviously wasn't getting anywhere, and truth is, neither was Drake.

Drake started walking again, jerking his head towards the Clark Pharmaceuticals Building. "I was hoping to find a motive in their servers or files or... something. But my best guess is some mentally ill metahuman with a grudge or delusion. What's your theory?"

 

[weemanv1]

“Only me?” Scott held his tongue and decided not to follow up on that retort. There was so much worse that could be said and he would save it for that, especially when they had a common goal to work towards. If they could at least agree on one thing it was that these people did not deserve to die so suddenly.

“One of the first responders showed me similar cases over the world,” he admitted, acknowledging that this was indeed a bigger issue than it seemed. He hadn’t known that there was a connection in how all of these CEOs were actually upstanding people. He had at first suspected that this was something political or perhaps the doing of an overly righteous vigilante, but now he found his thoughts lining up with Drake’s. While political shenanigans were still a possibility (Because god knew how much of a mess that could be…) he would really like to believe that it was some unstable meta. That could still be a problem of course.

“Normally for something like this I’d say it’s political reasoning; someone trying to get ahead in life, but I don’t think any of these murders are connected via company,” he explained. “Which shuts that theory down. “So yeah. Probably a deranged meta. I doubt a human would have been able to get away with all of this and not get caught.” Besides, it was better to assume that they would have to work harder anyway.

As they reached the building Scott decided that now would be the best time to ask, “Can you get into the security footage?” He had been told it was destroyed, but as he was not some tech genius he wondered if it could be salvaged in any way. He was prepared to chastise the other hero as well should he be unable to, especially if he didn’t have a plan of his own.

 

[CJWrites]

Drake felt a bit guilty once he heard the indignation in Scott's tone. He hadn't meant for it to be rude. A large part of keeping his identity was blending in. He'd panicked when someone mentioned Clark Pharmaceuticals as his mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario.

Drake nodded agreeing with Scott. "Yeah. I have a contact who's looking for something linking all four, like if they all supported the same Super PAC or faced a lawsuit by the same person or something, but," He took a deep breath. "Billionaires are a lot alike. They shop, bank and donate to the same places. Not to mention, they rarely put their eggs in one basket and famous people with lots of lackeys generate A LOT of data. It'll take some time."

He looked moody as they continued to walk. He didn't like not knowing.

His eyes widened at the mention of security footage. His plan had been to copy over confidential files and rummage around the office. Drake supposed he wasn't used to solving crimes, just exposing wrongdoing.

"Huh, I hadn't thought of that." He admitted. "Probably. It's easy to recover deleted files immediately after deletion, but if you overwrote the disk space or used a disk wiping tool..." His voice trailed off "But isn't your IT department already going over it?"

 

[weemanv1]

“Kid, I am a private investigator who works out of his own apartment. I am the IT department. And accounting…” He felt that his point had been made and left the conversation there. Fortunately he was on good terms with the police department, but it would still take them time to process everything. “If you think the force’ll be faster though then we’ll leave them to it.”


Circling back to the actual issue though, he added, “Wiping the hard drive—that’s what you mean, right?—would take more time than they probably had to get in and out without being caught. I would think anyway; if we’re up against a technopath then that’s another issue entirely…” His speech trailed off into a murmur as he once more considered the possible powers of a meta that had done this. Though it could be a simple matter of an elemental, some people out there could get pretty creative with their powers.


“Anything would probably help. If they were smart they wouldn’t have faced the camera regardless of if they destroyed the footage or not,” he mused. “Getting a lock on any sort of powers or identifying features on their back would at least narrow down the search.”


He thought back to the issue of if these high-profile business people were connected, but would need to do more research himself before coming to a conclusion. He seemed more interested in looking for the answer to “who” rather than “why” first anyway, much the opposite from Drake. Presumably it would all come together in the end anyway.


Finally he had another question to ask and presumed to make small talk while Drake set up. “I’ve only got names and locations as far as the other people go. What kind of companies are we looking at? More pharmaceuticals?” he asked. Looking back he was slightly annoyed that this information hadn’t come out from the start. “What were the companies doing?” he also inquired for elaboration. “I know Clark was a major name in Alzheimer’s breakthroughs and research. No reason to kill someone like that.”

 

[CJWrites]

"Well... if the police took the tapes..." Drake trailed off. "But I want to see what's on them too. It can't hurt"

He considered Scott's theory "A technopath could easily disable the electronic locks, right? But I've never met a truly powerful technopath before. I mean... everyone's powers are different but the one I've met say that most technology is too complex to get it to do what they want so they mostly create chaos."

He scrunched up his face, trying to remember the names and faces of the victims. "The CEO of Nanami Motors, Yuzuru Nobunari? I remember him cause he was appointed after that scandal. You remember? The pollution one? He spoke out against it internally and when the details leaked, the company fired a bunch of its senior staff and appointed him. Then there was the British Petrol company and the Wall Street financial advisor. I don't remember their names though. They weren't very famous but they have an extremely clean record, considering, yeah I know right? Even the banker."

He frowned, trying to remember more, but the thought of Morgan lying dead in a locked room kept bubbling to the surface. He fumbled with his phone.

"Here," Drake handed Scott the phone "These are my notes, Yuzuru Nobunari was President of Nanami Motors and found hanging in his office. Thing is, there was no stool around him so there's no way he got up there on his own. Ben Kerr, of Royal Petrol, was found stabbed in his penthouse apartment, Harvey Chavez, CEO of Bank of New York, was found with a gun in his right hand and a bullet in his head. Except there was no gunshot residue and Chavez was left handed. All locked room mysteries with no forensic evidence. I kinda feel like I'm in an Agatha Christie novel."

 

[weemanv1]

“So we’ve got an auto manufacturer, an oil tycoon, and a major finance player,” Scott concluded which did not do much to help their case. None of these people seemed connected in one way or the other outside of an outstanding moral record. Whenever he started to connect some dots it was as if a line crossed over them and debunked whatever theory he was coming up with. He could tie two people together, but then lost the connection when he tried to add a third into the mix. It was frustrating and he honestly just hoped it was some nutjob with too much power for their own good. That would be so much easier…

Taking the phone and looking through the cases in more detail, while the cause of death was different the cases were too eerily similar to not be connected or at least not to have been killed by the same person. Finally he seemed to come up with a new theory as he lingered on that thought. “Maybe…maybe they’re not connected at all,” he suggested. It was a long shot; there was certainly evidence to back up that these were connected murders. “We could be looking at a hitman. Clean records or not, you’re bound to make enemies when you’re the head of your own business,” he elaborated. “Someone just has to make a call and they’ve…” He trailed off again. Another potential lead came to mind before he could follow up on that thought. “Maybe we should start looking into the people taking over their positions either just in the interim or permanently,” he suggested. With such little evidence everything seemed like a solid lead.

He handed the phone back and decided to let Drake get to work. They could follow these thoughts after they had looked back at the security footage so long as it could have been salvaged. “And we’ll start with Clark since he’s the most recent,” he concluded.

 

[CJWrites]

"I was thinking of looking into their wives and kids," Drake admitted. "But the question with that is... why so many in the last few weeks? And a decent hitman would make it look like an accident or suicide. It's like... someone is taunting us."

Drake plugged a USB stick into the main computer in the security center, which had been conveniently left logged by the police. He scoffed at their security practices and for a minute, only the clicking of the mouse and the typing of keys could be heard.

"It'll take a while," He told Scott. "I'll send you a copy of the software. It's useful for recovering deleted data from computers. Might come in handy if someone tries to delete evidence."

They waited for a while before the program finished and Drake clicked around. "Tonight right? What's the time window?" He frowned. "It looks like the computer already started using some of the fragments. We won't have everything but.... Its better than nothing"

He opened the relevant video and pressed play.

 

[weemanv1]

Though Drake had a point, Scott still wanted to follow the hitman angle even if it was partly (Or maybe mostly) out of spite. It was possible that it could be a single person who wanted all of these people dead, but that again brought up the question of why.

Though not entirely tech savvy and certainly not on Drake’s level, he could probably make the software work for him. He didn’t say anything of it though and instead wondered about any of the details. “Yeah, estimated time of death was early to mid evening. The coroner will have a full report.”

Leaning forward to watch the security feed, Scott kept his eyes peeled for any off details. There was no sound, but they had a clear view of Gerald Clark’s desk from an angle up above. The footage was indeed choppy and jumped from the man working on his computer to taking a phone call and gazing out the window behind him. It was nothing out of the ordinary until it skipped ahead suddenly to a scene of something from off-camera grasped around his throat and clearly holding tight due to how he struggled to pull it off. “Stop there,” Scott ordered so he could better examine what they were looking at. “Looks smooth. Definitely not a rope and it clearly has enough power to hold someone on its own. Black in colour…but just towards the edge of the screen it looks like its brown. Like its two pieces of…whatever it is.” This confirmed a metahuman was involved. That or some amazing technology.

 

[CJWrites]

Drake squinted at the picture. It was so grainy and dark he could barely make anything out. But as soon as Scott pointed it out, he could see it too.

"Huh, you're right" he conceded. "Anything else, in particular, you want to see?" Drake asked, referring to different camera times. "Cause if not, then I'll give you a copy and we can go our separate ways."

He pulled out a portable hard drive from his backpack and started transferring, not only this file, but all the existing security footage to it. He probably had a hundred or so full ones stacked in his closet.

 

[weemanv1]

“Roll it forward some more. Just in case.” The killer was smart to stay off camera, but Scott was hopeful that they would be able to catch them slipping up. While they did not find themselves so lucky, he did watch as this odd extension released Clark to the floor and slithered back off camera. “See that? It retracted to a source I’m almost certain.”

The footage was nothing they hadn’t seen from that point on so he turned away from the monitor and placed his knuckle up against his lips contemplatively. “Still too many options, but it’s a start,” he admitted. “I’ll need the footage to go over myself,” he also affirmed.

He had nothing more to add and it seemed that his place was now at his home doing his own research and waiting for a call from the coroner or the police. Odds were likely that he would run across Drake again if this case continued on for any amount of time, but that obviously wasn’t the reason he didn’t say goodbye.

 

[CJWrites]

Drake frowned. It was hard to see from the grainy image.

"Clark was strangled, where there ligature marks? The paper didn't say. Those tentacles seemed very dextrous but... can they hang or shoot a man?"

He sighed. "I don't have much experience with metas, not unless it's fighting them."

A popup appeared, informing Drake his file transfer was finished. He stashed the hard drive back in his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He pulled out the black sweater and took off the gray one he was wearing now.

"Well then, if I find anything interesting, I'll let you know."

Drake always said cryptic stuff like this, hinting he knew more about Scott than Scott had told him. Still, Scott was a public figure with a business so it wasn't inconceivable he got the contact information there. Still, crossing personal boundaries like that, most people found it terrifying.

 

[weemanv1]

It was a fair question, but one Scott already had the answer to. “Nothing discerning. Rhonda told me it wasn’t like a rope or chain that would leave noticeable markings. Whatever this was it was smooth all around. Though, I would like to think that they could be used to hang someone. Shooting a gun would presumably be a simple task too.” He would need to know more to be certain though.

“Do that,” he encouraged as he wanted to remain in the information loop. With that said he now shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered out of the building for the second time. They both had their work to do.

The building was still swarmed with reporters and news vans, but now Scott could see that an interview was taking place. This wasn’t the police so most of the details hadn’t been released to the public yet, but obviously news of Clark’s death was spreading. He kept his distance as listening in would not be an issue.

“—the company going to move on without Mr. Clark?” the reporter asked. Scott had only caught the tail end of her question when he began to listen in, but he was more interested in the man being interviewed anyway.

“Oh, no one needs to worry. All of our research and development towards cures for mental diseases will continue as planned,” the man replied. He was middle-aged and though it was getting later in the evening he did not appear tired or frazzled to be there. “We may have to increase costs to come back from this tragic loss—“ If that didn’t raise a red flag… “—But I do believe that Clark Pharmaceuticals will still be a leading name in our field.”

“Is there anything else you would like to add, Mr. Reuben?”

“No, not at this time, ma’am,” he answered politely.

The reporter was distracted suddenly anyway when she noted Scott lingering in the background. When she called out he tensed, knowing that she was about to bring a downpour of questions onto him. He immediately turned and made himself scarce before that could happen.

 

[CJWrites]

Drake nodded. With a final wave, he left and made a beeline for the server room.

It was dark and cold inside. Drake supposed most of the staff had been given the day off and therefore the servers weren't busy. All the better for him. He got to work, using the universal key Morgan had built into every one of their systems. He navigated through the network, bypassing folders on research, and straight for the administrative and legal files. He wondered what he would find in them.

A television was on in the hallway beyond the glass wall. A pretty woman was interviewing a well kept middle-aged man in a pristine suit.

-- Clark Pharmacuitacles to raise prices? --

Drake narrowed his eyes. Whoever this person was, he wasn't good at PR. He audibly sighed. This was not at all unexpected, and Drake wondered if this man was up to the job. He had after all, just managed to turn a tragedy into an oncoming internet hate storm. He etched the man's face into his memory. The subtitles called him Rueben. Drake would have to look into him.

A couple of employees walked past with devastated expressions on their face, and Drake had to hide behind one of the towers to avoid being seen

 

[weemanv1]

Though he had to take a few backroads to lose the press, Scott did eventually find his way back to his apartment up on the third floor of his complex. He was fortunate in this case that he didn’t have to go so far and that he could walk to and from the crime scene. Maybe it was about time he invested in a car…

Once inside he tossed his coat over the back of a recliner and made a beeline for the kitchen where a few bottles of assorted liquors stood. After fishing a glass out from the cupboard above he poured himself a glass of rye, took one sip, and headed to the living room where his laptop sat. He couldn’t just sleep yet. There was research to be done.

His first target was Carl Reuben as a quick google search brought up his full name. He was the vice president of Clark Pharmaceuticals and thus next in line to take over should anything happen to Gerald Clark. Thus there was motive but no proof. Unlike Clark however, Reuben was clearly more interested in lining his own pockets rather than helping people. As much as he wanted to pin it on him though, Scott had no proof. Not yet.

He began to investigate the other murders for similar patterns. Maybe there was someone else in line waiting to make a meaty profit once their CEO was out of the way. Yuzuru Nobunari was replaced by Ryou Nakamura, a younger man who seemed to hold the same values that his predecessor did. He was beginning to think that this one was more of a coincidence that would throw them off the trail rather than a connection. Researching the other names helped to confirm this. Ben Kerr was replaced by Benjamin Irvine and already oil production was increased with no regards to the environment or other viable energy sources. He also found a partnership between Kerr and Nobunari. Perhaps that was what connected the auto manufacturer.

Finally Harvey Chavez was replaced by Eva Solokov. She was less malicious than the other new heads he had researched, but he also learned that as her name implied she was of Russian heritage and had not been a US citizen for very long; only within the past ten years. He wasn’t sure if this was a position she was even allowed to have, but there was her headshot next to her bio. As the oddest name of the bunch he began to dig further into her. “Huh… Bratva? What the heck’s that…” he murmured to himself with the image of some kind of Russian sausage dish in his head. Oh boy was he ever wrong. He noted that she was ex-Bratva which was important of course, but still a good indicator of what she was capable of.

In any case Scott now had some names to investigate, but Drake had really undersold it when he said that this was bigger than the both of them.

 

[CJWrites]

Morgan Bates was hunched over her computer, typing furiously. She hit enter, and the device gave a strangled error noise. She frowned, leaned back, put her feet on the desk, and considered the problem in front of her. Tablets floated around her, displaying various screens with information organized in such a way that it was incomprehensible to anyone other than herself. Her phone buzzed.

Drake: Security Footage from that night. And hidden files not on their Avalon server. Sent via IslandCloud.

Morgan grinned and grabbed one of the tablets floating around her, navigating to their shared folder.

She watched the grainy footage, as the tentacles lunged at her contemporary and strangled him to death.

She frowned. Had she seen something like this before? It seemed familliar. Did Hyperion mention something like this? She hesitated before dialing the number. Hyperion was the goody two shoes hero from New York. They got along well, but she knew she would have to keep the hyperactive manchild on track.

 

[weemanv1]

Seeing that footage put this job under a whole new light. Veil was getting sloppy it seemed if she let even some residual footage get out. At the same time it was lucky that Diamondback had been sent where he had and when he had. Once Ms. Bates was dealt with he could delete that footage so no other affiliates of hers got a look at it and sent it out to the police…or worse a hero.

Now of course there was more to this scene as well. Tablets did not float on their own. It did not matter that he could not understand the writings on them. This was a sign that Morgan was a meta and had to be dealt with quickly. Fortunately for him she was now not the only telekinetic in the building.

Retracting the snake cam, he stood from his crouched position and slowly retrieved an arrow from the quiver on his back. The tip was needle-like and followed up by a dark, translucent canister with an indiscernible liquid sloshing inside with every movement. Lifting his knuckles, he rapped on the door and called out, “Ma’am? Message for you.” He then stepped back, nocked the arrow and raised his bow. He pulled the string back and did not aim dead center as if wanting to hit the arm of whoever opened that door instead. He just had to wait.

 

[CJWrites]

Nevertheless she dialed the number.

"Hey Clair! Whatsup?"

"Yeah. Hi. Did you mention something about a villain with tentacles?"

"Oh yeah that! That was weird it was a couple of weeks ago near Wall Street-"

Morgan whipped around at the sound, some of the tablets banging into the desk behind her, but she didn't seem to mind. Nobody should be up here. She would have gotten a notification if someone had entered the penthouse of the building. Meanwhile, the voice on the other end was still chatting away

"HARII?" she called out. To anyone else it would have sounded like the name.

"List IDs on top floor." she muttered into her watch.

"Morgan Bates" A disembodied voice spoke. She narrowed her eyes.

Whoever was on the other side was deffinitely not her sister.

"Yo! Are you even listening?"

"I'll call you back later." Morgan told the phone, before hanging up.

"HARII, show device ids and locations in penthouse," She said and a map of with various dots with numbers attached appeared on the screen. "Open webcam for D3456"

She frowned. It was not a clear shot but she could make out a dark figure crouching and holding something that looked like a bow, ready to pounce. How did he even get inside? It hit her. The window she used to get in and out of as Clairvoyant didn't have the usual security on it. Her suit and utility belt were on the other side. She considered her options. She had her tablets, and she supposed she could paper cut him to death or stab him with a pen. She had never expected anyone to attack her in her own house. Her own house. It clicked what they were here for and a chill went through her spine.

"Hold on just a minuite!" She called to the man outside, trying to lure him into a false sense of security.

She pressed herself against the wall, her tablets following, Arrows were too fast to stop, but they could deffinitely be used against whoever. Someone with tentacles would have a large reach. She would have to disorient him and run to the window, grabbing her utility belt and taking to the roof.

She turned her hand and the door swung open.

 

[weemanv1]

Harry? He mouthed the name and decided he could roll with that. Through research it wasn’t a name that he had encountered, but things could happen within a day’s time. “Yeah, it’s Harry,” he answered, presuming that she was waiting for a date. This could work out even better.

He waited patiently, standing still and ready as a professional. He felt no threat even with her supposed power and the wait was hardly a bother. Within time the door finally opened and he pulled the bowstring slightly tighter, prepared to release it at his target…who was not there. The doorway was empty. Diamondback swore mentally. He had been made and playing to her curiousity hadn’t worked.

Slowly he encroached onward towards the door, holding his bow firm and ready. She had to still be nearby. He would just have to adjust his aim as he entered the room. Before he reached the doorway he even asked out in faux confusion, “Uh, Morgan? You there?” as if to draw her out. Assuming it would it would be unsuccessful he pressed onward.

Once he reached the doorway he would peek from one side to the next. Already this was becoming too much of a headache. The others probably didn’t have nearly as much trouble. What made this woman so much more special?

 

[CJWrites]

Morgan waited, holding her breath, but it was clear that the archer wasn't going to shoot first.

"Coming," She said. "I'm just finishing up these papers,"

And with that, she swung her arm and the papers in the room fluttered into his face.

With a flick of her wrist, she threw on her her tablets at his head, at least it would if he was average height.

She leaped into the air, hovering and attempted to quickly fly out of the room.

 

[weemanv1]

What papers? What was she—oh. Diamondback was thrown completely off-guard by the flurry of papers that rushed into his face. It wasn’t that they hurt because they didn’t, but they were a disorienting mess that caused his grip to falter. To follow this up was an electronic device colliding with the side of his head and causing him to stumble. He had a feeling now that this woman knew how to defend herself…and obviously she knew that he was there beforehand.

Shaking his head to reclaim his balance and clarity he turned just in time to watch her hover past him and out of the room. Immediately he pursued out into the hallway and found himself with a clear shot. His movements were slick and swift. The bow was raised in front of him and the string drawn back once more. The needle-tipped arrow was poised directly for her calves. So long as he hit one leg he could make this work. He released the arrow and let it fly, hopefully before she could get too far away.