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The sound of raindrops on the window had become a familiar companion - always there, always tap, tap, tapping away in the back of her mind like a count, like a rhythm, like the dead and dying, they're out there but I'm in here, I need to be out there they need me, they need me, I have to go I have to go to them, I will walk through the flame and the flood and I will be with them -

"Annabelle?" The familiar voice shook her out of her ruminations. Annabelle turned from the dark window she'd been leaning against to see Dr. Graham entering the employee lounge, his spectacles in his hands. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Annabelle scrambled out of her chair in an instant. "Is it another patient?" she blurted.

"Ah, no," the stout, brown-skinned man answered slowly. "It's the rain, it's... well, our ambulances are having a lot of trouble. Are you feeling alright, Annabelle?"

She waved his question away. "What did you need, Dr. Graham."

The doctor extended his glasses to her, revealing a web of cracks and fractures in the left frame. "I, uh, stepped on my glasses. Could you give me a hand?" She accepted the spectacles and quickly blew onto them, not even looking as the cracks sealed filled. He took them back with a smile and placed them onto his face. "You're a lifesaver, Annabelle."

"I try to be," She answered, halfway turned back to the window when one of her fellow nurses slid into the room, wild-eyed and gripping a clipboard.

"Nurse Fitzgerald! We need you in an ambulance, there's a fire in the Power District in Jethrull."

Dr. Graham furrowed his brow. "A fire, in this weather?"

The nurse shrugged. "Look, I don't know. I just work here. We don't know how big it's gotten or how many affected, but Nurse Fitzgerald is the best way of treating burns or smoke inhalation we have. We need her."

For her part, Annabelle was already throwing her rain jacket around her shoulders. "I'm going," she said as she walked past the doctor.

"Absolutely not, in this weather you could - "

"Can't hear you over the sound of me going!" she shouted, already running down the hallway to the ER.

---

She knocked on the door three times. After a brief wait, she tried again. She heard shuffling inside and decided to wait. The door opened finally and an elderly man stepped out. Peter Carpenter was closing in on 80 years old. His face was wrinkled to the point where she was sure it would cave in on itself. However, despite that his eyes were fierce. They bore into her like he'd been doing it for years.

"Mr. Carpenter?" she asked. The man nodded slightly, "Yes. that's me. What do you want?" To the point she thought to herself, Fine. She took out her badge and showed it to him. "My name is Priya Khurana. I'm a detective." She could swear she saw the fire in his eyes after he glanced at her badge. "I'm not talking to any cops!" he said and made to slam the door in her face. She rushed forward and held it open, "Wait, Mr Carpenter! It's about Sarah. I have news." Although the heat in his eyes didn't die down, he opened the door again. He looked her over, probably gauging her, before he nodded, "All right, come in."

She entered the man's home and looked around. It was sparsely decorated. It had the bare essentials: some chairs, a TV, a desk. She noticed the pictures on the wall and on the desk itself. Peter stood in one, in his military uniform back when he was probably in his 20s. Then another picture of his wife Marie on their wedding day. She looked beautiful in her dress. The others were of a little girl with long, brown hair in various ages, but no more than 10 years old.

She knew who this girl was. After all, she spent the better half of last month delving into the lives of the Carpenters. The little girl was named Sarah and she was kidnapped. The man responsible was currently serving his time in prison. Sarah was never recovered, though. There was a manhunt, they questioned the man responsible, but he never disclosed where she was and if she was alive. The man was said to be smiling all through his trial.

That was over 40 years ago. Sarah was presumed dead and her family never had closure. Never did a proper funeral because they didn't have her remains. So they spent years quietly grieving their loss. His wife passed on 5 years ago.

Peter went to the kitchen table where a half-done crossword puzzle sat and a cup of coffee. He sat down but made no motion for her to do the same. She took a seat opposite him. "You have a nice home," she started. Peter just stared, "I'm not here to talk pleasantries. Say what you have to say and get out. I've heard it all before, anyway." She could detect the pain in his voice, though. She nodded, "I'm a Cold Case detective with the Crescent City police department. For the past month I've been working on your daughter's case," she paused, waiting to see if he made any inclination to say anything. He did not. "Well, I've been looking into it. Trying to find out what happened and where she is. Mr. Carpenter, I'll be brief. I know you and your wife put her to rest in your hearts and minds and I am sad to tell you she is dead. But, I am also here to tell you that we found her remains." That was when Peter finally smoldered the fire in his gaze. Instead, he looked like he might cry. His lip trembled a bit, "What did you say?" he asked. "We found her remains. After years her body has perished, but DNA tests were done to figure it out. She is in the process of being turned over to you and your family."

Peter brought a hand up to his mouth to cover the soft cries he was letting out. She stood up and walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He took her hand in his and wept openly now. "Thank you!" he said.

---

That was why she did what she did. The closure was needed. Life needed to move on and if you had blocks that prevented it, you suffered. For years the Carpenters suffered in silence. They tried to move on with their lives, but there was always that grief. That trouble. The constant thought of trying to understand when you couldn't.

She worked hard. The case was definitely not easy. She had to go back, re-discover the crime. Talk to witnesses. Talk to the man responsible. He was still smug. She was sure he expected some type of deal to ease his sentence. She had the pleasure of going to see him after they found her body. Seeing the smugness drain out of his face was particularly satisfying. She left him to rot in his cage.

Her own ghosts haunted her still, but they pressured her to get results. And she did. She was considered one of the best. Closing cold cases was satisfying, whether it led to good news or not, closure was needed. Her own battles were still being fought. Prisha deserved closure and justice.

Her phone rang and she answered, "Hello?" The voice on the other end was Paul Cortez, a fellow detective. "Hey Priya, you are near The Spires right now, yes?" "I am, why?" Paul sighed, "We are getting some weird reports going on there. Some panicked phone calls about other police officers there. Do you mind checking things out? Shouldn't be more than that, but you are near there and we are short-handed as it is." She let out her own sigh. She really wanted a cup of coffee and to sit down for a minute. Especially to get out of this constant rain. "Fine, but you owe me Starbucks coffee for a week." Paul chucked, "Like a date?" She hung up, expecting Paul to still be chuckling.

She got into her car and made her way over to The Spires. She would check it out, report back, and hopefully be home in time to catch Grey's Anatomy with her roommate.

What could go wrong?

---

Tonight is the night. The night that all the pieces were going to start falling into place, and the puzzle would become a picture. The picture, of course, was going to be of Lisa finally making this whole ‘vigilante’ shtick work. Tonight was the night.

Some part of her, the part of her brain that had always insisted on being a negative Nancy, was telling her not to get her hopes up, saying that ‘Lisa, you’ve been wearing a mask and beating these streets for almost two weeks now, and you haven’t seen a single crook yet. Haven’t even spotted anybody so much as jay-walking, littering even. Why should tonight be any different?’ “Nancy’s” logic was compelling, and the fact that it was probably true that Lisa’s bad luck would hold, and all she was in for was another night of getting soaked to the bone mixed in with a healthy bout of mind numbing boredom should have conspired to make her realise that her new interest in extra-curricular activities was a terrible idea, but the truth was it all had very little effect on Lisa’s optimism. She was going to do this, didn’t matter how hard, how boring, how illogical it might be.

She waited until she could hear Vronnie’s snoring from the room next door – the walls in their dorm were paper thin – before grabbing the duffle bag she kept stashed at the bottom of her closet, and pulled the costume out from within it. The dark material was still damp from the night before, eliciting an involuntarily shiver from her when she slipped them on, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Maybe she should have tried to sneak them into the drier earlier. At the time she had worried someone might have seen her and asked uncomfortable questions about why she was spin-drying ballistic vests and combat trousers, but now she wondered if that wouldn’t have been a small price to pay for a dry t-shirt.

She cracked her window open, driving rain near instantly gusting into her small room. T-shirt wouldn’t have been dry for long anyway, she consoled herself. She clambered out the window and onto the fire escape, pulled the shutter down behind her, and set off on her now nightly patrols. She was soaked, cold and bored within ten minutes.

Tonight better be the night.

---

An alarm broke the monotony of the night, cutting through the constant patter of rain hitting concrete, and electrical hum of old street lights. It was so sudden and unexpected that Lisa nearly jumped in surprise. Got to work on that. You never see Daredevil jumping at car alarms. He’s got nerves of steel, not nerves of … copper, or whatever inferior metal it is my nerves are made from.

Fright aside, it may actually be a blessing in disguise. Alarms meant trouble, and trouble was just what she was looking for. She knew that if she wandered Downtown long enough, she’d eventually get lucky. Knowing that it was best to strike the iron while it was hot, she took off running in the direction of the alarm.

The closer she got, the louder the commotion got, raised male voices beginning to mingle with the blaring sirens. Angry voices. And lots of them. That negative Nancy voice struggled to make itself heard again, trying to warn her of how bad an idea this was. Nice girls like her really shouldn’t be getting themselves involved in what she was no doubt about to get involved in. By that point it was too late though. Lisa was at full tilt, with adrenaline and excitement coursing through her veins. The time for common sense was long over, it was all instinct now, and even if there was a cold, forbidding knot forming in her guts, she couldn’t stop her legs pumping forwards even if she wanted them to.

She turned a corner onto a wide street that looked like it was playing host to a ‘Warriors’ re-enactment. There was over two dozen young men and women involved in a chaotic rumble, every single one doing their level best to kill the others. Rocks were flung, bats were brandished, bottles smashed. There didn’t seem to be any sides to the brawl, or at least if there were sides they’d long lost any semblance of order.

She’d never seen a fight before, or not a real one at least. She’d seen plenty fight-scenes in movies – Her dad had made her watch every Chuck Norris movie out there – and she’d played enough video games that she’d thought she had a pretty good idea of what a fight should look like, but in her mind she’d pictured it flowing, like a beautiful dance or a well-choreographed street performance, moving from one perfectly planned form to another like an award winning ballerina who had been rehearsing her moves for months.

This … wasn’t that. It was dirty, and quick, and all so confusing that she had to take a moment to try and pull some sense from it, try to figure out the narrative here, figure out who was who, which guys were the bad guys and which the good. Then she watched one man stick a switch blade into another’s arm, and the severity of the situation hit her. There weren’t good guys or bad here. Just stupid people trying to hurt each other, maybe even kill one another. And if she didn’t do something, then they might just get their way.

Tonight is the night. She reminded herself. A small part of her wished it wasn’t. This could end very badly. Very, very badly. And not just for her, but for everyone involved.

Lisa took a great deep breath, set her feet apart, and –

“STOP FIGHTING” She bellowed, her voice coming out firm and strong, surprising herself with the volume and commanding tone. She had no idea she had that in her! To say she was pleased with the effort would have been an understatement. To say she was pleased with the effect on the brawlers would have been the opposite. Whether they didn’t hear her, or just plain ignored her, not one ceased their efforts in trying to brain the others. Maybe it wasn’t surprising that they didn’t pay that much attention to her, they did have their own stuff going on after all, but it was still rude all the same, and Lisa was more than a little miffed.

“Hey! I’m speaking to you!” That rod of iron that had seemed to strengthen her voice last time was gone now, replaced by the weedy tones of a petulant child not used to being ignored. It got the same results her last effort did. She took a few steps forward, berated the group again, got ignored for her efforts again. Now she was getting plain angry, and so she bent over to pick up a stray rock, and hurled it at the back of the nearest scrapper. The throw was beautiful, the aim sublime, and it cracked against the man’s bald dome, driving him from his feet and throwing him to the ground. His opponent, a teenager who had just been biting his arm like a rabid dog, and the combatants nearest too him, all looked up to see Lisa standing there, feeling quite sheepish now that she had their attentions.

“Who the hell is that?” Demanded a burly tattooed pugilist.

“Fuck knows, thought they were one of your guys.” Responded a tall, skinny woman with a crew cut, wearing shorts that showed off far too much of her pasty flesh, especially in this weather.

“Like Hell! Look how shitting tiny they are. No way we’d let them in the Crew. That’s Thirds material if I’ve ever seen it.” Tattoos retorted, before turning to Lisa and pointing a finger at her. “Hey! Cunt! Who’d the fuck you think you are?”

Lisa, quite taken aback by the exchange, and the profanity displayed, struggled to find a suitable response, eventually settling for a confused “Uhhh…” Before she had a chance to improve on that unforgettable introduction the skinny woman piped up once more.

“Fuck it, let’s just splatter the fucker, then I can get back to fucking you Crew-Bastards up.” There were several nods of approval to this, and before Lisa really knew what was happening, five gang-members were advancing on her, intent on making her vigilante career a remarkably short affair. She took a back step, all of a sudden regretting the recent life decisions that had brought her to this place immensely.

Why did tonight have to be the night?

The Basin is a relatively small district in the grand scheme of the CrescentTriad but had one of the worst records for crime and poverty in the metropolitan tri-city. Home to working class dock workers and fishermen, crime was used frequently as a "get rich quick" scheme, armed robberies and subsequently the murder rate has steadily risen. An unfortunate place stricken with poor luck and impoverishment, a stark contrast to the beautiful city that surrounded this scar within Eden. The media was certainly lacking when it came to coverage inside the Basin and no one really cared about what happened to people inside. It was like a small community, away from the high-life and bustling streets that wrapped around the water district. It was the perfect place to lie low and stay hidden, organised crime was basically nonexistent aside from smaller groups of ruffians and this meant that a vigilante could do their work without being in the centre of attention all the time.

It was here that Tariq had set their base of operations in. An old decrepit warehouse sat near the edge of the Basin, sat in a row of other warehouses like it. Once used for the booming fishing markets that thrived here, now abandoned and left to rot because of Eden's sudden loss of interest in fishing. Apparently, once city officials started gathering millions of dollars a year from tourism alone, the fishing industry suddenly became obsolete. There was no need for government funded fishing, no need for the large and expensive fish auctions, no need for a market that rivalled the hustle and bustle of the Japanese Tsukiji Fish Market. Money left the area and so the Basin was forgotten, turning into a neighbourhood now used mostly for freights, water deliveries and small-time fishing by underfunded companies. The warehouse that they had set up in was once alive with people, dozens upon dozens of humans inspecting various fish from the day's catch, now left to the tinkering of a vigilante.

Having arrived three weeks ago, Tariq had set up a secure perimeter around the small warehouse. The rows and rows of warehouses created a suitable maze and they had made sure that the chosen warehouse's exterior did not differentiate from the others. They had spent two solid days memorising the different routes, pathways, narrow alleys and dead-ends that were contained in the layout of the complex. They had gotten lost more than once and often had to ask a local to find the coast so that they could work back to their main base from there. They had also made sure that the garage for their 2015 Ford Mustang, a relatively new but popular car in the streets of Eden District. Old surveillance cameras were also tapped and wired to the large array of monitors within the HQ, several newer and more discreet ones also being bought and placed around.

With enough time, Duos could probably make this place a trapper's heaven with enough high-tech gear but that was lower on the priority list. If you were to enter the HQ, you would be met by a wall of crates and old freight containers stacked on top of each other, similar to the other warehouses surrounding it. However, if you were a particularly strong human and able to push very hard against the wall of one of the containers, you would be able to push a secret door. You would then be greeted by another door and an eye scanner. If you weren't Tariq or authorised to enter the premises, you would be shot repeatedly with a pop-up experimental LSAT Light Machine Gun armed with rubber bullets. If you are still standing, lethal rounds would be loaded and you would be warned.

Tariq had set up rows of weapons for their armoury, a wall filled with monitors flickering between main Eden District cameras and the warehouse complex. Their computer was in the corner of the room, wires tangled around messily, shining brighter in the shadows of the room light. A black table with a holographic projection of a map of the city sat in the middle of the room along with a bed and some pillows strewn on the floor. The room is largely occupied by crates and unopened boxes filled with equipment, things that Duos had yet to set up. It was here that we find our unlikely hero (heroes?), donning their robes and equipment.

'Al, you sure you've got everything? Sunscreen, lotion, a snack on the go? Are you bringing spare clothes? You might dirty your clothes from all the blood. I just cleaned those you know!' Annoying, intrusive but familiar thoughts filled Tariq's mind, most of them unnecessary reminders and suggestions that came from Human. Alien had mastered the art of blocking thoughts that were technically his own, pushing the Human out of the forefront of their mind and focusing on the task at hand. He grabbed small but sharp knife on a table and shoved it into his boot. With their pistol strapped to their hip, a metal staff mag-clamped to their back, knuckledusters in pockets. He looked like some sort of black and white futuristic version of a desert bandit, the red holographic interface placed over their right eye only adding to the intimidating appearance.

Tariq flexed their muscles, releasing a breath of air in a slow relaxed manner. Alien had taken control for the first time in three weeks and he was getting used to the sudden overload of the senses. When you existed merely in a conscious state within the mind, your five senses were too numb to truly feel the outside world. Now that he was out, he could finally do simple things like breathe air, taste food and feel the clothing hiding their alien body. It was almost overwhelming at first. 'You're enjoying yourself a little too much Al, it's like your preparing to have a quick rub of our-'

"Human, I swear that if you finish that question, I will mentally castrate you in a sickeningly creative way armed with a rubber ducky and a spoon." Tariq's mind was silent once more and now they could focus at the task at hand. Over the three weeks since their arrival from Saudi Arabia, they had stuck around the Shasta Basin and parts of New Lilith, having little time to explore the city. Now that they had finished truly setting up headquarters, it was time for some research into the hotspots of crime and any noteworthy locations. Normally, they would conduct this research in casual attire but the increasing crime rate meant that this research patrol could quickly become a look-out for crime. Especially with their new police wire-tapping headset, they could listen in on 911 calls or police radio chatter if there was anything of importance.

They confidently walked out of the warehouse towards the one opposite, making sure that everything was secure and the security protocols were in place. It was strange, having such a small base. Duos was a name revered in Saudi Arabia as a national hero, starting and securing an age of safety within a country that would have fallen without their help. It was why they were cautious in going out in their full get up, they had gotten some worldwide attention after their actions during a hostage situation within Abu Dhabi. Tariq hoped that they weren't as famous here in the West than they were in Human's home country, it started to get difficult fighting crime when the media was there all the time. Besides, the government was more stable than it has been in years, local law enforcement was funded by their offshore banking accounts and the country's crime rate was at an all time low.

The rain that fell on Tariq once they stepped outside was thankfully stopped by the waterproof clothing. The water would have a slight affect to their superior eyesight but it was minimal at best. As Tariq entered into their parked 2015 Ford Mustang, slightly worn from use. It was their car of choice after all and old Betsy, as the Human affectionately called it, followed wherever they went. Placing their staff in the back seat and revving the engine of the car, they felt the roaring engine startle to life. Tinted windows giving a little privacy, they hooked their headset to the radio, making it blare out any transmissions the headset could pick up. They gripped their steering wheel and grinned collectively. 'It's been far too long.' He drove out, eager to explore the cities beyond Shasta Basin. Excited for new possibilities and new crooks to conquer. This would become their metropolitan, their domain, the warrior without peer.

The radio crackled to life, a 911 call coming through announcing the arrival of suspicious policemen in the Spires. Seeing that the call was very near to their position, Tariq stepped down on the accelerator and speeded down the roads towards Old Lilith. It seemed as though that luck was on their side, their first mission in a new town. Even now, as they weaved through the traffic, they checked the calls that flooded from this particular spot of the city. 'Well, this seems easy, seems like a buncha thugs Al. Nothing we haven't dealt with before.'

This would be an easy first job, right?

F L A S H B A C K:

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^{A Night in April 1985 | New Lilith}

J O S E P H T H O R E A U:

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^{Friday, April 07, 2017 - 9:41 PM | Club Nevermind - Milk Street}

F L A S H B A C K:

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^{A Night in April 1985 | New Lilith}

The warehouse in the Wharves, one of the many used by the Harbor Kings, where they would store their goods they have stolen from the shipments coming in. They had just gotten a large shipment of heroin, packing it and going to package it and ship it off to their dealers in the morning, but for now, there were only a handful of guards keeping watch over the shipment.

Two of them watched the outside, three on the inside, among them was Carlos Suarez, one of the Lieutenants of the Harbor Kings, a right-hand man of the boss. His wrap sheet was longer than most, assault and battery, breaking and entering, attempted murder, and murder were all among the things he had been booked for.

Yet, he had slipped through the system, on his last case the chain of custody had been broken, and key evidence had vanished. The witness that could send him away for life washed up on the beach, body broken in so many places that she had to have been run over by a truck. Tonight, justice would finally be served. This shipment was risky, it belonged to the Fierro’s and the Kings had stolen it, killed a couple of their guys, this could very well mean war, and they didn't have the resources for that. Not yet, anyway.

“Keep watch. Some of them fuckin' Mexicans might show up to try and steal our shit.”

“Aren't yo-”

“I'm Puerto Rican, dickhead.” Carlos immediately snapped back at one of the guards.

They heard cursing from outside. ”Hell is going on our there?” One of the guards asked, Carlos waved him to go check, the man turned around to grab his gun from the table, one of the blacked-out windows broke as the limp body of one of the guards was sent flying in, a broken nose, knocked out cold and barely breathing.

The three men began moving towards their guns, when they heard the cocking of a handgun behind them, followed by a voice. ”Wouldn't try that if I were you.” The biker-looking man, in his black leather jacket, a hood over his face, but one could see his short blond hair and black sunglasses, his look wouldn't betray his identity, the one truly defining feature to his figure was the belt buckle in his Jeans, a golden A.

”Guns didn't help the guys outside. It ain't gonna do you any favors, either.”

”Think you're the terminator, or some shit?!” Carlos shouted, as the man in the hood grinned, but remained quiet. ”Get him!” Carlos shouted, as his two men charged at the man in the hood, whom smiled, twirled his pistol in his hand and put it back into it's holster as the two men charged at him, one of them picked up a baseball bat from the floor while running, the other a knuckleduster from his pocket.

The hooded man took one step backwards, as the bat came towards his face, dodging the wooden weapon with less than an inch, his arm came down hard on the man holding the bat, snapping his wrist, his hand went limp and a cry of pain rang out, the next guy came along, bring the bat up from the ground, he smashed it against the man's skull, shattering the bat and knocking the guy out cold. The first man whimpering on the ground about his broken hand.

”No guns didn't seem to work, either.” He taunted, as Carlos backed slowly, the masked man heading towards him. ”You lot have been making big moves lately. You planning on starting a war? Lot of innocent people are gonna get hurt, can't let you do that.” He said, as Carlos turned towards the shipping container, getting out the blowtorch and turning it on.

”I'll fucking burn you, Puto!” He shouted, and the hooded man chuckled.

”You think I'm afraid of fire?” a golden flicker could be seen from inside of his shades, as the entire room lit up with bright, warm light as six violent, yet beautiful flames, like tendrils, spawned on the figure's back. Carlos let out a gasp.

”Dios mio..” He dropped the blowtorch, falling to his knees. The torch burning his hand, and he cried out in pain. The vigilante walked to him, grabbed him by the neck and pinned him against the container, a heavy 'THUD' from his body hitting the steel door.

”You tell me what you got planned, or you'll be burned a lot worse than that!” He shouted, and Carlos said a prayer in Spanish, before nodding.

”B-Bank, we're gonna pull a bank heist. Oh god, he's gonna kill me. We need the money to fight the Mexicans.” He said, and the vigilante smiled, kicking the blowtorch to the side, it rolled out of the way from hurting Carlos again.

He grabbed his wrist, put his gloved thumb right next to the wound, still holding the criminal by the collar.

”You'll turn yourself in, and confess to every crime you've ever committed. Or I'll be back. And it'll be a lot worse than this.” The hooded man growled, Carlos nodded, crying, his sobbing turned into a cry of pain, as his burned hand began healing at the vigilante’s touch, a pain he couldn't even imagine as his skin wound closed, and his tissue began re-growing in a matter of seconds.

”Be good, Carlos.” The man simply said, turning around and taking to the air, out of the warehouse and into the sky.

---

The drive to The Spires was almost uneventful, but people had a habit of driving like mad men whenever it was raining. Why was that? On an otherwise clear day, people drive normally, but water gets on the road and people panic. Priya thought about that as she listened to the music on the radio. Some catchy tune was playing. She didn't like it, but it got stuck in her head and she ended up singing along.

Finally, she got into The Spires. The feel of the place was...off. There was no one walking around. Even on a rainy day, there would still be people on the streets, walking home, going shopping, dining out. She drove casually, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything. Something didn't feel right. Her detective instincts were on high alert.

As she turned the corner, she saw two uniformed officers underneath an awning. She didn't recognize them, but there were a lot of officers in different sections and precincts. She pulled up to the side and got out. She could feel their eyes on her. Some cops didn't like others milling around on their turf, so it was to be expected. But she could feel the unease and the distrust.

"Evening gentlemen. Detective Priya Khurana. Got word of some trouble coming out of this area. Anything of note?" The two officers sized her up. She could see one of them grin a bit. Obviously, he didn't think she looked like a detective. Made things easier in her line of work, usually. "Fraid not, lady. Been a quiet night," one of the officers spoke. Priya stood firm, "That seems unusual in and of itself, don't you think? There's usually something going on. Drunken patrons at the bar, domestic disturbance, hell even a jaywalker. But nothing out of the ordinary?" The two officers stood at attention now. They did their best to look formidable. Their posture spoke as if to say "You're asking a lot of questions" and that made her even more on alert. "Nothing, Detective," though when he said detective, she detected the venom behind it, "Been real quiet. It's nice to have a quiet night, now and then, don't you think? Rest assured, we got it handled." Priya narrowed her eyes. These two were being real cheeky, but she had no proof of any wrongdoing. "All right officers. Thanks," she turned and made her way back to her car, but she stopped midway and turned back, "Oh, before I forget. We're taking up a fund for Martha's birthday gift. You remember Martha right? Dispatcher everyone loves? She's turning 60. You can donate it at headquarters." The officers nodded "Yeah, good ol' Martha. We'll come give when we're able to. Goodnight detective."

Priya made it back to her car and drove off. She turned the corner and parked her car again and made a call to Paul. "Priya, my lucky day." "No time for jokes, Paul. You were right. Something is not right over here. I need help figuring out what." Paul got quiet briefly "No kidding? I didn't think much of it. What makes you so sure?"

"Because Martha retired years ago and she was the biggest bitch I've ever met. Every officer knows that."

---

Her and Paul talked back and forth. Something was going on here. Something that made people not go outside.

"What places could you check out? If it's big, they would need a big place to do their business." Priya thought about it for a bit. "The hotel? It's big, could see them defending it while they did whatever it is they are doing in there. It's gotta be big, Paul. There's no one on the streets apart from the officers. And I use that term loosely. I don't think these men are cops."

Paul's tone dropped a bit, "Be careful Priya. If what you say is true, you could be going into somewhere dangerous. Let me call you back-up." Priya spoke up instantly, "No, Paul! If you do that, we could spook them all into hiding. People could get hurt. It seems like the police are here already and adding more may cause panic. Let me see if I can handle this. If you don't hear from me in 2 hours, then call for back-up. Thanks Paul." She hung up after that. The message was there. In 2 hours, she could be dead.

She did have back-up though. Her power. She didn't understand it much, but she put the pieces together. She was a Hyperhuman. They were interesting, to say the least. Targets to some, victims to others. She had a unique gift. Whenever she was in danger, she would adapt and grow a power to help her. She remembered when she first learnd of it. Some freak was trying to drown her and she was able to breathe underwater. It scared her, at first. But she adapted to the best of her ability. The power didn't stay, but she learned it happened whenever danger was around. No one knew of her power, except for her. She didn't want her job in jeapordy.

So at least she had that in her pocket. She drove quickly towards the hotel. Every instinct told her that's where she needed to be. She just wondered what she would find when she got there.

The pitter patter of the rain intensified as Tariq drove, police communications and emergency calls cutting the silence every now and then. It was an eerie sight, a tall man dressed in black robes driving in silence, completely immobile aside from the few movements you would need to drive safely. Inside their mind however, it was a long range of conversations between two individuals, discussing the task at hand. They were on the outskirts of the Spire, the lack of traffic and people unnerving them. It was unusual, it should be hustle and bustle within a city, even with the pouring rain. 'You think this is another Mecca? It seems way too quiet Al.'

As Islam's holiest city and one of their most famous, many would think that the Saudi government would have intense security and law enforcement patrolling the streets. After all, even with the power eclipse that pushed the country to the brink of collapse, millions of Muslims still made their way to Mecca annually for the haji pilgrimage, a practice that most Muslims are required to do at least once in their lifetime. After the destruction of an Ottoman citadel, the Aiyad Fortress, to construct a mega skyscraper complex, there was much international outcry, particularly from the Turks. The Abraj Al-Bait was planned as a sign of Saudi Arabian progress in the light of their near-collapse, seven skyscraper hotels and apartments. It was to be a sign of the country's rise back into the first world, turning a once destitute country into a beautiful marvel that travellers around the world would love to visit. It was a part of King Abdulaziz's modernisation project for the city, a pearl amongst the sands.

It was never finished, having a predicted 15 billion dollar cost in construction. The demolished Ottoman heritage site ultimately led to nothing, all that was left were unfinished skeletons of planned skyscrapers. It became a squatter's paradise, containing one of the largest homeless populations in the world, most of them previous workers who were hired for the construction but subsequently fired for their effort. It was a multi-billion dollar disaster and hit the government hard, so funding was taken away from different departments to make up for the economic costs and debt. One of them was the law enforcement. The homeless paradise became criminal heaven, neither the military nor the underfunded police bothering to patrol such a lawless place.

As it was meters away from Islam's holiest sight, there was many people who sought to demolish the unfinished buildings but the government couldn't afford to. Unfortunately, some extremist Turks decided that the eyesore was both an affront to their heritage and to the Prophet Muhammad himself. They decided to take action themselves and purify the construction site by demolishing it, regardless of any casualties. When Tariq had tried to stop them, many of the squatters were hiding from the armed terrorists as they "discreetly" placed bombs around the foundation. It was unsettling, bustling populations of people stricken with fear, turning their communities into ghost towns.

Alien broke the silence with a grim tune. "Mecca is different, this is something intelligent. Planned. Unlike the unorganised rabble we encountered back then, this is organised." The Human huffed mentally, stamping down on any memories rising from that time. Past mistakes were unfortunate but should be out of mind during a mission. Mecca was a mistake of grand proportions and almost ended their career. Fortunately, they were still living and breathing, scars and trauma aside. As they drove further through the city, another call of significance was picked up and voiced through their radio. As it did so, they were halted by a pair of officers.

"-no one in the streets apart from the officers. And I use that term loosely. I don't think these men are cops." A voice of authority, feminine. A policewoman maybe? There seemed to be another investigator on site, probably someone who was sent by the real law enforcement. Not like the "police" who were reported by civilians and currently knocking on their window. "Sir!" One of them knocked, peering into the window while the one behind him tried to hide a grin. Unprofessional and slack were the first thoughts that came to mind. "Please lower your window sir, this is police business."

Tariq turned the radio off as the call ended, taking their holographic UI off with the headset. They opened the window, their head turned directly at the officers, trying to sound as innocent as possible. Instead, the dialogue became nervous rambling "Ah, officer. Nice day, is it not? I am looking for my aunt. Matilda." The Human face palmed, dragging his hand over his face. He knew that his partner could be a bit thick when it came to human dialogue, it was natural after all. He was an extraterrestrial, someone who's customs and culture were literally out of this world. But after two years, you would think that the ET would have learned how to speak normally but unfortunately, you would be wrong. He also knew that Alien was a horrible liar and was starting to regret letting him take over. Sure, his combat skills weren't as good and shots could go loose in his hands sometimes but at least he was better suited for an infiltration mission. The officer looked at them weirdly, nodding slowly with a skeptical look as the accompanying man took a phone call.

"Right. Matilda. Your aunt, you say? Look pal, I'm sorry but there has been a situation here and the Spires is off limits." The policeman then indicated around the place, pointing out the empty roads. "We've closed it down and we've been ordered to take any suspicious persons. I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the car, we'll need to conduct a search on your vehicle." He crossed his arms and tried to look threatening but Duos had caught the small mischievous smile the policeman's partner had before it was quickly wiped away. Suspicious, definitely suspicious. 'Good job Al, we're going to get robbed and 'arrested' by crooked cops before we even get to investigate the calls.'

Tariq let out a small sigh, currently under the influence and control of the Alien. "الشرطة سخيف." They muttered under their breath before exiting out of the car with their hands on their head. They were slammed on the car roughly, the rain hiding the small grunt they made. 'I hope you have a plan Al, otherwise we are fu- Oh. OH! I like your thinking. Make it quick, we gotta get outta here.'

The policeman that was previously interrogating them made Tariq put their hands on the roof of the car in front of the driver's side, while the other cop hung up his current call and started to open the side door next to them. It happened instantly, quick and efficient just how they liked. Alien willed their body to spin right, trying to deliver a hard backhand to the "officer" behind him. He backed away in instinct but their body kept coming. They followed with two punches in the gut before grabbing the man's extended arms as he bent over. They placed their foot on the man's stomach before pulling hard, pulling his arms out of their sockets. A sickening crack was heard as the man fell screaming, his painful outcry masked by the intensifying rain. He fell to the ground, shouting curse words and obscenities unfit for a true law officer. Then again, they had just delivered a frighteningly painful injury to the man.

Tariq was suddenly brought out of their musings by a cry of anger behind them. They spun, turning to look at the other officer who had reared his arm. They ducked, letting the man swing and miss before rising quickly to deliver a punch of their own. They buried the fist into their opponents abdomen, feeling tensed muscle and hearing a small exertion of breath. Surprisingly, the young man stood strong and tried to grab them by the neck, rearing his head for a headbutt. Unfortunately for him, the otherwise vicious blow was quite ineffectual to the thick skull of an alien lifeforms, only serving to knock himself unconscious. They threw the pair back into their car, making sure that there was little evidence of them even being there.

As Duos entered the car, they quickly noticed a ringing cellphone in one of the officers pockets. They picked it up and let the person on the other line drop the call, unsure of whether a voice message would come or not. A thick foreign accent came through the speakers, screaming heard in the background "Juan? You finished dealing with the Muslim freak Boss told you to pop? Its fuckin' crazy here at the hotel man, these fuckin' hoes are some good A-class bitches. Finish up and come have some fuckin' fun." The message ended with a large whooping noise and a harsh laugh. The phone was thrown to the back as the car accelerated forward. Crime like this was commonly found in their line of work but it still made the Human sick every time he heard of it.

They speeded down the roads towards the hotel, rapidly looking back at the previous intercepted calls using the holographic UI over their right eye. Tariq looked at the last one and traced the original caller's number, owned by a certain Priya Khurana. Since the headset was relatively small, it was difficult to find more information on an intercepted caller aside from their phone's registered name. Throwing all caution to the wind, they sent a quick voice message to the woman, hoping that she would receive it before she arrived at their shared destination.

"Ms. Khurana? You are headed to a very dangerous place with a possible hostage situation forming. You are dealing with some organised criminals here, your suspicions were indeed correct. I have been tracking your calls ever since you stepped into the Spires. I do not have time so I will make this short. My name is Duos, I am here to help. Come to the street four blocks over from the hotel at the Fifth, I am in the black Ford. We will need to work together to keep these hostages alive." The Human told Al every word, making sure that the dialogue sounded as reasonable and clear as possible while also making it short. They avoided any patrol cars like a plague, any hint of them caused the duo to turn the other way immediately. It was through this constant zig zagging that they finally reached their destination, a street corner with many cars parked in front of a group of apartment buildings. They parked in front of one, hoping that none of the patrols had caught them in the act of parking. They turned the car engine off and formed plans in their combined heads, hoping that the woman would come soon.

The clock was ticking and the sudden weight of another hostage situation began to go down on them. 'Please let this be an easy one. Anything but Jeddah, anything but that...'

---

Priya drove through the streets, keeping careful to not draw unwanted attention. If her hunch was correct, she was in a dangerous zone. These "officers" would probably take care of her if they found out she was still here. She checked her rear-view to make sure she wasn't being tailed and, much to her delight, she wasn't. However, she would pass by the occasional cluster of cops who would watch her drive past. She tried to avoid them as best she could.

As she neared the hotel, she got a message on her phone. Weird, she thought to herself, I didn't hear my phone ring. She took out her phone and played the message.

"Ms. Khurana? You are headed to a very dangerous place with a possible hostage situation forming. You are dealing with some organized criminals here, your suspicions were indeed correct. I have been tracking your calls ever since you stepped into the Spires. I do not have time so I will make this short. My name is Duos, I am here to help. Come to the street four blocks over from the hotel at the Fifth, I am in the black Ford. We will need to work together to keep these hostages alive."

She turned off her phone and sat there. Some unknown person had been tracking her calls. Not only that, they confirmed what she feared. And the hotel was indeed the place. The only decision left was to see if she believed the man or not. By all accounts, this could be a trap. However, if there was indeed a hostage situation forming, she had to do her part to get them out alive. If this..Duos character could help, then she'd take it. She was flying solo and she didn't really want to.

She drove the remaining distance and came up to Fifth. She pulled her car up and looked for the Black Ford. Once in sight, she got out of the car, making sure to take her gun with her and stood next to her car, waiting for the next move.

Tariq checked their P320's clip, making sure that the yellow explosive rounds were loaded in. First impressions were important and although they would miss the precision that came from the other types of ammunition, this would be the most distracting. They would have to avoid actually killing anyone with them however. If they went around killing criminals left, right and centre, they would be fighting the police more than they would the criminals. That was something they wanted to avoid, after all there always comes a point in a vigilante's life that they'd need police assistance. It was better to be seen in a great light with dark shadows rather than entering the crime scene with blood on your hands. Slamming the clip back into their weapon, they made sure that their lethal and rubber bullet clips were separated but close by. It didn't hurt to have them and having them in case the situation called was always useful. He heard the sound of tires a hundred meters away and he stilled, looking up slowly equipped with his gun.

Thankfully, it wasn't police car and seemed to belong to the person they were waiting for. The Duos grabbed their long staff and clamped it to their back, breathing in slowly. Deep breaths, they thought, they would need to speak clearly for this one. It was obvious by the way she held her weapon that she was doubtful about them. Doing another mental check in their head, the Human encouraged Alien to move their body 'Okay ET, let's do this. Follow what I say.' They opened the door with their pistol in the air, hoping that the detective would take it as a sign of peace.

They knew how imposing their body could be. Dressed entirely in black, looking like some sort of Egyptian tomb raider, with only their eyes showing. And even that was slightly covered by a deep red holographic interface, information constantly scrolling down it. Tariq kept their pistol in the air in a non-hostile manner, trying to slump down a little to look a little shorter. They made sure to clear their throat, hoping to create a much lighter and softer voice than the one they used on the fake police. They raised both their hands in the air after closing the door behind them, tilting their head with curiosity. This Priya Khurana seemed intelligent and ready. Dangerous almost. They felt uneasy around her, feeling like she was hiding something. Human pointed out the irony in that sentence as they were literally covered head-to toe in clothing but Alien ignored it.

The first thing the detective would notice was the weapons. The long metal staff and the pistol in Tariq's right hand. She would notice how the water seemed to flow off their clothing, not soaking into the waterproof material. But the most prominent feature that she would point out was their bright eyes. It seemed to glow even in the cloudy daylight, a light green pair of eyes that stared curiously at her. They spoke first, holding their unarmed hand in front of them with a calming gesture.

"I am not here to hurt you, please stow away your weapon ma'am and I shall also unarm myself." Alien willed their body to place the pistol into it's holster, making sure that the movement was clear and slow. He then placed their hand on their chest "As I said, Ms. Khurana, I am Duos. I have dealt with two of these so-called officers, they lay unconscious in my car for your arrest. I would presume that their hostages are kept in the hotel, the evidence is recorded if you need it. There would be several patrols in between us and the hotel, as well as guards on the main floor blocking any access upwards to the penthouse, where the hostages are kept."

They paused, letting it sink in before continuing "I plan to use a distraction tactic. I shall distract and try to draw away as many pretenders from the hotel as possible. There will be several small explosions and you will take that as a cue. I will keep as many guards off of your back as possible and you can sneak through any backdoor or side doors that you can find. You will find that the guards that previously occupied those positions would be directed to me, a more obvious threat. The hostages are kept in the penthouse floor, several women. I am led to believe that they are being sexually assaulted however I doubt that a mere want of pleasure is the reason for all of this. There may be a person of interest up there. Once I shake the pretenders off my tail, I will circle around and come back through the backdoor and meet up with you. If I am not back by twenty minutes, assume that I am chased away or dead. If you have another plan, I am up to suggestions however we are out of time. A front-door assault could be done but may be impossible with only the two of us."

Of course, they didn't know about Priya's power, they assumed that she was a simple detective who got into deeper shit than she should have. They assumed that she was weak, a simple mundane human. They were mistaken.