Realistic or Modern Orthrus Detective Agency

[KamiKahzy]

Mason was glaring daggers at Mars since the moment he started talking. Every word was like a thorn in his brain, digging ever deeper and only serving to piss him off more with each syllable. Mason reached out for the jar of water and clutched it with both hands, angrily bringing the drink to his lips. But then he stopped as the weight of what Mars was asking hit him.

Mason slowly put the jar back down on the counter as he looked on towards Mars, incredulity and anger evident in his gaze. He spoke steadily, his emotions tinting his voice but still very reserved all things considered. "...The only way that thing could have gotten in me was if I had eaten it. And the only things I've ingested today was a few rice crackers at home, and the drinks at the café. The drink you explicitly said was poisoned." Mason left the jar on the counter as he put his hands up on the edge, still locking eyes with Mars as his fingers clenched into the aged wood. "But I stuck my finger in your drink too, which means your fucked up coffee could be responsible as well. If it was in my cup then it means you really did have that waitress poison me. If it was in yours then maybe it was meant for you and I got in the way. It also could have been in both cups, which would mean either the staff or a dedicated outsider was trying to poison both of us. Or just one of us and didn't want to take any chances. No matter how it played out though you're entirely at fault for this, either directly or indirectly. And why?" Mason threw up his hands in exasperation as his voice hit a new indignant pitch, "The fuck should I know!? Maybe you're a raging paranoid and just make a habit of poisoning everyone you share a drink with. Maybe you really are the heartless sociopath everyone at the station thinks you are and you just did it for kicks. Maybe someone really fucking hates you and I happened to get in the way. Or, I don't know, maybe you did it as a way to test how good I am at picking up obscure hermetic murder methods. I'm leaning towards the latter based purely on the fact that this whole thing seems planned, but I really don't want to give you that much credit right now."

Mason's hands slumped to his sides as he finished his diatribe, entirely done with the whole situation. "How's that for an assessment?"

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

The only response Mars gave to Lionel's pointed words was his irritating smile disappearing. He did not move as the mood in the room turned icy. "Calm yourself," he said in a slow, warning tone. "Separate yourself from the events, take a step back, and observe everything you know. What you've told me is your thoughts and feelings as the victim. I did not ask you as the victim, I asked you as the one investigating. I asked for the facts of what happened. Now take a deep breath and start again. Out of the possibilities you just spoke, what do you feel is closest to the truth?"

 

[KamiKahzy]

It took a monumental amount of effort on Mason's part, but he took a few deep breaths and did his best to calm his mind. Despite everything that just happened he could see what Mars was getting at. He was still being interviewed, and even though this was bar none the most heinous job interview he'd ever been subject to, it was still an assessment. Mason's gaze flattened and sobered as he mentally reviewed, and then verbally elaborated on what had transpired today.

"...This 'Gu' seems to be some kind of traditional Asiatic poisoning method, a very subtle and well crafted one. I didn't feel anything until the frog ripped it out of me, which tells me it likely secretes some form of sedative to keep its presence masked within the victim. Since it was inside me," Mason shuddered momentarily at that before he pressed on, "there are very few ways it could have manifested in my digestive tract without me noticing. The most likely method is ingestion, and as I said the only things I've eaten today were rice crackers at home and the tea at the café. I've been using my personal effects at home for weeks so it's unlikely they've been tampered with, which just leaves the café. If my drink had been poisoned then this whole thing has wound up just as you stated in your sixth scenario. That coupled with the fact that you knew which 'antidote' to use tells me that you were telling the truth and not just spouting bullshit. This would mean that the staff did indeed put something in my drink, as per your instructions, which was able to grow into a fully formed poisonous centipede in just under an hour. My guess is some kind of egg but with magic involved you can't ever be certain without something to reference. And since this whole thing was likely orchestrated by you then it means that the entire ordeal was meant as some kind of test. A test of my observational skills, my analytical skills, and my willingness to obey your instructions, no matter how cryptic or dangerous they may appear."

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

"Ah," Mars put on a smile, but it came off as somehow more faked than his usual fake smile. "So that's what you think then?" He made his way around the counter and took a seat on one of the benches beside a long wooden table. "Don't worry, the water isn't poisoned," he motioned back towards the jar Lionel had left untouched.

Mars let out a slow stream of air and then spoke. "Truth is like a puzzle. You can have all of the pieces in front of you and never put the whole picture together. Likewise, you can lack many pieces and still figure out what the picture shows. But without an objective view, you're adding pieces that belong to other puzzles into the picture. They clutter and confuse, but getting rid of these things is more difficult than the metaphor lends. If you're not careful, you'll end up throwing out pieces you do need along with the ones you don't."

"I told you to calm your emotions, but not discard them. That disliking you feel towards me, as you may have assumed, is not unique to you. My person is regarded with distrust at best and things worse than absolute hatred at worst." He wasn't looking at Lionel as he spoke, instead seeming to address one of the larger plants along the edge of the room. "Gu is a type of magical poison, from China, created by trapping various venomous creatures together until only one remains. That sole survivor takes on the potency of all the other creatures, along with more unnatural traits. Gu is both the creature and its venom, and the venom in any application is just as effective as if the person contacted the creature itself. Once the venom is delivered, it manifests inside the victim in the shape of the original creature, and it acts in the manner of the venom's effect, which is often but not always the death of the victim. A gu is undetectable and incurable by most mundane means, so the chances of survival once the gu is inside is near zero."

"Thankfully, gu is cannibalistic. From the start gu is created by consuming itself, and the easiest way to rid a person of a gu is to have another gu consume the one inside them. Now just about any venomous creature can become a gu, but there are a few varieties more commonly used. They are: snake, frog, toad, centipede, scorpion. The gu that was inside you was a centipede, so I used a toad. Likewise, if it had been a toad inside you, I'd have had to use a snake to get it out. The risk comes in finding the correct gu that will work. If I had used the toad and the gu inside you had been a snake, then the snake would have consumed the toad and become that much more potent, likely killing you in a matter of minutes rather than hours. You're welcome."

"Back to your feelings towards me for a moment. Those are hardly unique, and you are right about that waitress was no great actor. Nor was what I said about poison as hypothetical as I'd have had you believe. Few made up things are. The poison was not in your food or your drink. I doubt anyone truly cares enough to want you dead. No, the poison was in that disgusting cup of coffee, disguised by the inclusion of dirt to hide the fact that she'd doubled how much poison she'd put in this time." Mars met Lionel's eyes. "Do not hate Suyin for this, she never meant to involve you."

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason's expression was difficult to read, simply because he wasn't quite sure how to feel right now. There was a lot of information dumped on him in one sitting, but a few key pieces stood out. Mason looked down at the full jar of water for a moment, taking the time to formulate his thoughts before he spoke.

"So what you're saying," Mason said with his usual lackluster tone, still looking at the clay jar, "is that you intentionally let me drink poison that was meant for you." He looked back up to Mars now and locked his gaze on him, staring hard into the man. He let an uncomfortable silence hang in the air for a few moments before he continued, "...A poison that I had no prior knowledge of, and arguably no way of knowing what to look for in order to spot it." He reached out his hand and placed it on the counter, rapping his fingers a few times to draw out the tension in the air. "A poison that you clearly have prior experience with, and likely some kind of immunity since you didn't need a French kiss from Prince over there." Mason gestured towards the jar where the blackened toad sat, and unless his mind was addled by the gu then he could have swore he heard a tiny belch echo out of the pot.

Mason gave the jar a sidelong glance before he turned his eyes back to Mars, then back again to the jar full of water. Mason reached out with one hand and picked it up, looking down at the cloudy tap water with mild indifference. He looked back to Mars a final look before he concluded his thoughts on the matter, "Looks like I've got a lot to learn then." Mason then tilted back the jar and took a few healthy drams of water, sating his thirst and finally giving his throat a modicum of relief after his brush with death. Very quickly though Mason's chest began to convulse as one last coughing fit came over him. He wheezed a few times, then cleared his throat and spat a respectable glob of red-black effluvia back into the water jar. Mason could almost see a few bubbles starting to form when the ichor hit the water, a faint sizzling noise emanating from within.

Mason carefully sat the jar down on the counter, then pocketed his hands in his overcoat and looked back to Mars with an expectant look. "So, when's our first job?"

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars regarded Lionel with an odd stare. "If you think there's a lesson anywhere in this, then you do still have much to learn." He leaned back as a bark of laughter escaped his throat, covering his mouth as it turned into a cough. Mars stood as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. "Very well, I have a job that might be good for you to see what this job is all about. Should be mundane enough for you not to hurt your head trying to figure out complicated things, but not mundane enough that I can get away with just ignoring it." He leaned forward, his hands together before him. "On account of what occurred today, I'm willing to give you the rest of the day off. I will make the necessary preparations for the job, so all you have to do is go home and take it easy. How's that sound?" Mars flashed his usual insincere smile. "Just be sure to wake up early tomorrow so we can get started before the day gets busy. Oh, and pick up a shovel if possible."

 

[KamiKahzy]

Instinctively Mason wanted to make a derisive comment about what material the shovel should be, but frankly he was too tired to care. Instead Mason simply gave Mars as polite a nod as he could manage, then gathered himself and walked out of the overgrown apothecary. As he did he thought he heard one last growl come through the floorboards upstairs, but he opted to pay it no mind and strode through the wooden doors and into the open street. Checking his watch Mason saw that it was just after 2pm but already he'd felt like he had a full day, so Mason decided to take care of a few errands before turning in for the night.

First stop was the bank, but along the way Mason ducked into a public restroom to make sure he separated the cash so he wasn't pulling out one giant wad in front of the counter. Several streets up and over from Zoubusi put Mason in front of his preferred Chase bank, and thankfully the afternoon crowd wasn't that bad so he barely had to wait at all before he was called. Mason carefully slid twenty of the $100 bills he'd been given and deposited them into his account. A few less reputable eyes might have seen the thickness of his envelope, but Mason was wearing his work face which was usually enough to deter any would-be muggers. Mason would deposit the rest of the money slowly over the next few months so as not to alert any IRS bean counters of his new income. He still wasn't entirely sure how legal being in Mars' employ would be, but Mason had a suspicion that Mars' 'style' would result in a great many bylaws being bent and broken.

With that errand out of the way Mason decided to take the long way home just to make sure no punks or thugs were following him, and along the way he decided to stop in a hardware store and pick up the shovel that Mars had requested. He wasn't really sure what Mars had in mind for it, and frankly he wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he figured something with leverage would be the best option. Mason decided to purchase a classic spade shovel with a five foot handle, plenty long enough for most any situation. Walking back home with a shovel over your shoulder certainly wasn't a normal occurrence, especially for a New Yorker. Thankfully it just proved to be more of a deterrent, which suited Mason just fine as he approached the corner of Eldridge and Stanton.

The neighborhood was cheap, exactly what one would expect from low income housing in New York. The cracked sidewalk and paved patchwork streets connected to form the crossroads of this corner of the city. All along the streets spreading out from here were tall brick and mortar apartment complexes, most averaging around four-five stories but some reached closer to eight. Wrought iron gates segregated the buildings from the sidewalk, quartering off small walkways and even tiny spits of concrete that technically passed as 'courtyards'. Iron bars covered all of the cracked or warped windows, which was a selling point for potential tenants. The only divergence from this pattern was a small 20 car parking lot, now reasonably empty given the time, and a small corner deli run by an aging Italian couple. Thankfully this particular corner wasn't too poor or close to any major gang territory so the only trouble Mason ever had to worry about was young punks and the occasional mugger.

Mason decided to stop inside the deli and grab a sandwich before heading home, he felt like he needed something normal in his stomach following the day's events. Mason actually decided to buy two sandwiches given his sudden windfall, and on his way out he crossed the street and made his way over to Old Joe. Old Joe was one of a selection of homeless that made their rounds about the city, and today at this spot at this time happened to be Joe's 'slot'. He was an aging black man in ratty clothes with a long scraggly beard, probably in his 60's though his unkempt appearance and years of stress could certainly be adding a decade to his look. Nobody was sure if Joe was his real name since he hardly spoke, but he never made any attempt to correct people so the name stuck. Mason pulled out one paper wrapped sandwich and offered it to Joe, which he gratefully took with shaky hands and a toothy grin that sported more black than white. Mason smiled and nodded to Joe before he crossed the street to the west corner, unlocking and pushing through the iron gate before trudging up the stoop and opening the front door to the apartment building.

The inside hallway wasn't anything special, but given that it had a mildly clean appearance and was relatively devoid of litter put it head and shoulders above other housing units. Mason walked down the dimly lit hallway, taking little notice of the broken lights, the peeling wallpaper or the periodic graffiti left by wayward kids learning the art. After braving three flights of stairs Mason finally came to unit 416, his home for the last two years. Mason turned the key in the rusty lock and opened the old wooden door, stepping inside and flipping on the light.

The inside of his apartment was even more dreary than the hallway. It was a studio apartment so there wasn't much space to be had, but the apartment seemed bigger simply due to the sheer lack of furniture. The only things readily visible beyond the kitchen appliances was a small card table with two folding chairs and a twin mattress laid out in the living area. There was no TV, no radio, no computer, not even a couch or something reasonably comfortable to sit on. Apart from the mattress the living space was completely empty. The kitchen had slightly more activity going on as there was at least a small pile of dishes and a few cartons of takeout left on the counter. The fridge and oven were several decades out of date, and a microwave and toaster were the only other external appliances one could see. The single light in the center of the unit struggled to cast shadows on the sparse accommodations, but that merely served to enhance the drab atmosphere of Mason's home.

With a sigh Mason took off his coat and hung it by the door, then quickly began shucking his relatively clean business attire. The shirt and pants were carefully hung up in his closet, leaving Mason in just a wife beater and boxers. They rested next to the newly bought shovel, which Mason made a mental note of trying to find a better spot for it once it'd seen its use.

Once he was properly disrobed Mason decided to partake of his sandwich, so he sat down at the table to properly unwrap and appreciate his treat. Salami on rye with brown mustard, the deli's specialty and a personal favorite of his. Mason took a bite, savoring the flavor as it steadily purged the memories of the toad from his mouth. But immediately regretted his decision once he swallowed, because the spiciness of the meat and mustard burned like hellfire going down his throat. It continued to smolder all the way down, until eventually it just sat in a warm, painful heap at the bottom of his stomach. Mason immediately went for a glass of water, followed quickly by the few remaining pills of aspirin he had in the bathroom. It seemed his luck had been sapped for the day, and he rather doubted he'd be getting it back anytime soon.

'Nothing for it I guess,' Mason mused to himself as he begrudgingly put his sandwich away inside the fridge. Tomorrow maybe, for now Mason thought it best to just sleep off his exhaustion and make tomorrow come that much sooner. But first he had one last errand to finish. Mason went over to the closet and pulled out some envelopes, some invoices, and a checkbook. At the table Mason carefully scrawled out a check for one thousand dollars, making it out to 'Komansky Children's Hospital'. Mason slid the check into the envelope, addressed it, stamped it, and sealed it before placing it on the end of the table. He'd send it out with the mail in the morning. After that Mason slumped over to close the blinds, then promptly collapsed onto his mattress. Sleep came quickly, and for the next 12 hours Mason was dead to everything but his own subconscious.

The man shook every once in a while in his sleep as a thin veneer of sweat beaded over his brow.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars waved playfully at Lionel's back as he exited the shop, but when he found himself alone the false smile fell away. Those wine red eyes stared at the closed door, contemplating the human who'd just left. But his thought process was interrupted by another fit of coughing. He wiped the black from his mouth and stood, after a few shaky attempts managing to get back onto his feet. The room was shifting before his eyes and beneath his feet. "Not good," he mumbled to himself. What should have taken effect in a matter of hours was hitting him in less than one. It could be the repeated dosages making it hit him in less time, not to mention that she'd upped how much she'd put in this time. "Shit, it's almost like she really wants me dead or something." He laughed, which only sent him into another coughing fit. "Not good," he repeated. "No more laughing. You better be done eating fucking frog," he leaned heavily against the counter and reached for the jar with the toad gu inside. Something shifted inside his body, causing Mars to double over in pain, his hand knocking over the jar away from him. He swore through clenched teeth and reached again, but the jar rolled off of the counter, and he heard it shatter.

A growl that shook the air seemed to come from everywhere at once. Mars sighed as if relieved to hear the sound. "Sorry Fatty," he mumbled as his strength faded and he collapsed onto the floor. Mars groaned and rolled onto his back. "Faat, fetch your master for me, wherever she happens to be. I'll give you a treat if you do." There was nothing but silence from the thing that had been growling at him, and then a gust of rushing air blew through the space, blowing open the door as it continued away, hopefully on its way to wherever the old bat was. The door slammed shut.



It didn't open again until another hour or so had passed, when Madame Wu, the owner of the Zoubusi Traditional Eastern Medicine Shoppe, returned. She was a tiny woman, too old to be described as simply old, with wrinkles that looked like they may have marked the passing of dynasties. She had black hair held in a bun atop her head by far too many wooden skewers. Her wood-bottomed shoes clacked noisily against the floor as she walked in, a tug on the air with the chopsticks held in one hand slamming the door closed behind her.

"Maz, you dead yet?" She clicked and clacked her way towards the back of the shop, somehow knowing exactly where she'd find her bothersome tenant. She sighed and clicked her tongue upon finding him. He'd managed to pull himself halfway around the counter trying to reach where the toad gu's jar had fell. The toad was nowhere in sight. "That's going onto your bill," the old bat told the unconscious, or dead, Mars. She had Faat drag him into a more open part of the room and push him onto his back. "Let's see what's got you this time," she mused as she poked and prodded with her fingers. "Oho, so that sweet girl finally managed to do you in? Good for her, good for her. I'm going to have to strip you now, so don't go enjoying it, else it's going on the bill too." The old woman's nimble fingers undid Mars' shirt and pushed it aside, leaving his upper half bare.

It was nothing she hadn't seen a hundred times before, but even still seeing it soured the woman's mood. Mars' entire body was covered in scars. Groups of straight lines from claws digging into flesh, smaller singular marks from metal stabbing through skin, a surprisingly few of which were mundane bullet wounds, partial outlines from when something had gotten its teeth into him, and more irregular lines where he'd been battered to the point that his own bones had pierced their way out. There were a few mark that were somehow more irregular however. The five puncture marks on his chest, perfectly surrounding his heart, and the two more surgical lines forming a T across his chest and down to just above his navel, held together by metal stitches, and the handful of small markings that appeared to be runes burned into the flesh. Madame Wu felt Mars' skin some more, then brought out her chop sticks and pulled on the metal thread of the stitches. It seemed to unravel and pull out entirely without her exerting and force to do so. The second line was the same.

She opened him up with the chopsticks, having to carefully separate where the runes had burned through, and took a look inside. "Oho, you really should be dead this time," she commented. "It looks like you got a bit lucky. The gu spent quite a while trying to go after your heart by the looks of it." The dark violet centipede sat coiled around Mars' stomach and lungs, its sharp legs slicing into the soft internal organs. The woman leaned closer to look at Mars' heart, but as expected she couldn't see where it was. Not even a gu of this size could get in there it seemed. The woman's hand moved with lightning speed, and in the next heartbeat the gu's head was pinched between the ends of her chopsticks. It squirmed for a moment, and then a needle pierced just behind its head, and the gu went limp, all of its legs losing their hold as well. In the moment it took the gu to dissolve the metal piercing it, the old woman managed to drag the entire length of its body out of Mars. She let Faat keep the gu occupied so that it didn't escape or attack while she activated more of the runes carved into Mars' ribs to heal most of the internal damage and then restitched the whole thing back shut.

Mars regained consciousness just as Madame Wu was dropping the unhappy gu into a clay pot of its own. He pushed himself up with his arms, groaning from the pain - less from the damage the gu had done and more from where the healing runes had burned through his skin. "What took you so long," he said irritably. "Leave a person dying for too long and they might start to get the wrong idea."

"The total this time comes out to 110 thousand dollars," the old woman replied.

"That's 10 thousand more than it usually is!"

The old woman raised one eyebrow. "100 thousand for saving your life, the standard rate. 30 thousand for the toad you managed to lose. 20 thousand off for the healing runes I used patching you up. 110 thousand total." She turned back to poking the centipede down into its new home.

Mars looked down at the collection of runes burned into his body, five of which were fresh. "Fuck, I was saving those for an emergency! You didn't need to use them all up!"

"You'd already used three just to stay alive before I got here, and I didn't feel like putting in the work to patch you up myself, not after having to walk all the way back here just to save your life. Tell you what, if you manage to find that toad you let loose before it kills someone, I'll take another 20 thousand off the bill."

Mars complained more under his breath, but had no choice but to accept the old crone's prices. No one else in the city was as good as her at keeping him alive, himself included. He leaned back down onto the cool floor.

"And get off my floor and out of my store you worthless freeloader!" the old woman snapped at him.



Mars was already awake quite early the next morning, having walked a considerable distance to an actual coffee shop - both because he desired a good coffee and he had yet to speak to Suyin about her attempts on his life - and returned with two coffees and a box of doughnuts. He sat upside-down on the couch, eating a doughnut with sprinkles - also upside-down, which made most of the sprinkles fall off onto the floor - as he waited for Lionel to arrive.

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason groaned as the alarm on his phone blared to life. He wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper for a jarring ringtone wasn't necessary, but somehow he felt it was appropriate. Once he was awake though it didn't take Mason long until his brain began to wake up with the rest of his body. He quickly took care of the essentials and threw a rice cracker down his throat before putting on his last pair of clean work clothes he had for the week. It was the same attire as yesterday, but his shirt was now a deep midnight blue instead of the usual bleach white. Before he shut the door Mason made sure to grab the envelope off the table and the shovel out of the closet, then set off for Mars' office.

It was 07:05 AM when Mason walked down the steps to Mars' door, the shovel's spade resting comfortably over his shoulder as the last light from the street glinted off its face. Mason didn't bother with knocking as he opened the door, walking in to a scene he thought reminiscent of a cartoon or a sitcom. But considering Mars' eccentricities Mason wasn't really inclined to acknowledge the oddity of his stance, lest Mars get an even bigger head. So Mason simply greeted his new boss with a curt 'Morning,' before standing by and waiting for further instruction.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars grinned and flipped himself into a more proper sitting position atop the back of the couch, dropping the loose sprinkles on himself onto the floor to rejoin the others. "Lionel! I was certain you'd skip out on me. Rarely am I pleased to be wrong about something. Now take a seat and have a few doughnuts. I got you a coffee as well, if that's something you like. It's not quite a healthy breakfast, but it's certainly better than rice crackers." He glanced at Lionel with one eye, the other closed, a thin smile stretching across his face.

"And you even remembered the shovel! Wonderful, one point to you." He hopped off of the couch, from the back because doing anything normally would be just ridiculous. He then had to make his way back around the couch to reach the folder sitting on the coffee table. Inside was a handful of papers, some pictures, and most notably a collection of pages from newspapers. Mars handed the folder to Lionel and took a seat on the arm of the uncomfortable-looking chair across from the couch.

"Abigail Jameson, age six. As of two weeks ago, deceased. Cause of death: drowning. William Jameson, age twenty-eight. As of three days ago, deceased. Cause of death: drowning." He paused, waiting for Lionel to catch up in the newspaper clippings covering the obituaries and get to the next page. This page had the headline Girl Declared Dead Found Alive. "The very same day the father dies in the same manner as the daughter, she reappears alive and well." Mars hummed to himself, then looked up at Lionel. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason sat down on the old couch and decided to take Mars up on his offer of donuts, though he did take a moment to inspect them before he took his first bite. Likely the start of a new habit of his after yesterday's events. The coffee he gave a pass, he never liked how jittery it made him feel in the moment.

Looking through the file brought an odd sense of nostalgia to Mason. Sure it wasn't as refined as the reports he got at the station, but all the elements were still there. He carefully browsed through the information, taking in Mars' words in conjunction to help formulate his thoughts. Without looking up from the file Mason responded to Mars, "I think we need more information, there's hardly anything solid to go off here."

Taking a moment to look away from the documents, Mason turned his head over to Mars and asked him, "So who's the client?" Mason then bumped the shovel on his shoulder once as he continued, "And what did we need this f-..." And it was then that a look of dread realization came over Mason's face, his eyes quickly dashing between Mars and the picture of the drowned father. He came back up and stared at Mars with a vain pleading in his eyes. "No... You're not... We're not..."

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

"That much is true. If we knew everything from this much, then this job would be unbearably pleasant." Mars put his fingers together before him as he leaned in. "The client?" He hummed as if debating what to say. "Well whatever, they're not good at keeping it a secret anyway. A friend of the family said certain things in confidence to a priest, who then brought it to the attention of the church. I was looking for an easy job to break you in, so I took the case from them. Saves the church from having to do anything, and it'll let me see how you handle things."

"The shovel?" Mars raised one brow at the question, then grinned. He coughed and then switched to his higher-pitched mocking voice. "Oh Mars, surely we're not going to dig up the poor dead daddy? Is that what you are asking moi? Sorry to disappoint, but he isn't buried. His body is currently sitting in the morgue. ... If anything it'll be the daughter's grave we'll have to dig up. That is, assuming someone hasn't thought to check on it already." Mars shrugged. "The mundane folk don't tend to ask questions, but even they will look around if dead people start showing up alive and well."

"You probably won't like hearing this, but a shovel is the most useful tool you can have in this profession. Need to put a zombie back in the ground? Shovel. Need to dig up a grave cuz some asshole decided to go and start haunting folks? Shovel. Gotta bury illicit evidence quick? Shovel. Beat a werewolf off of ya? Shovel. But mostly those first two. A remarkable percentage of cases can be dealt with by digging a hole. Zombies and ghosts. Too many fucking zombies and ghosts. Humans, I swear they just do not know how to die without causing trouble."

Mars grabbed his coat and walked towards the door. "Oh yes, I don't recall if I asked you this before, but do you drive?"

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason was initially displeased by Mars' mocking tone, but that somehow morphed into a strange sense of relief when he understood that Mars wasn't planning on going grave robbing to try and talk to a corpse. But his displeasure returned when Mars began rattling off all the practical uses a shovel had in their particular line of work. Mason was somewhat displeased with the nature of what he was suggesting, but mostly he was displeased by the fact that the man was right. Mason was beginning to learn just how much he didn't like it when Mars was right.

Mason sighed to himself and picked himself up off the couch, grabbing one last donut for the road and answering Mars' queries as he followed. "You did ask me, and yes I can drive. But I don't own a car right now, it wasn't exactly in my budget."

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars dismissed the question from the air with a wave of his hand. "No matter, no matter. It would be ever so convenient, but I suppose it can't be helped. Or rather, it may have been inconvenient, but not for us. I've had a poor cab driver running up the meter by circling the block for the past..." Mars checked his wrist, on which there was no watch to be seen. "Seventy-three minutes. I do hope he's still at it."


Mars sat staring out the window of the backseat of the cab, occasionally tapping the glass with a fingernail. "Say Leo," he spoke in an oddly somber tone while still watching the scenery pass outside, "what is your favorite color?" There was another hour at least until the cab arrived at their destination.

 

[KamiKahzy]

The cab wasn't the worst that Mason had ever ridden in. That honor belonged to a particular cab he picked up in the Bronx after an... especially bad evening, even by his standards. There was a hole in the floor of the cab big enough to drop a shoe through, and the windows had been shattered some ages ago with absolutely no effort made to replace them. In fact the cabbie had attempted to fool his clients by taping up a picture of a random New York sidewalk inside the window space and hoping no one would notice. Mason had noticed, but he had other concerns on his mind at the time.

Just as he had other concerns on his mind now. Like the fact that the shovel couldn't possibly fit in the trunk of the cab, so it had to lay awkwardly across both their laps during the trip. Or the fact that Mars had been unusually quiet as soon as he sat down in the cab. They hadn't been driving long but Mason was sure that Mars would be talkative or animated in some fashion. It would have been almost normal if Mars had decided to press his face up against the dividing glass and make fog impressions of himself. But this quiet introspection was not expected at all, and it had Mason concerned on multiple levels.

Thankfully the silence was broken by Mars' offhand question, to which Mason had to take a moment and consider. It wasn't something he thought about often. Even before his unemployment he rarely made purchasing choices that would necessitate such leanings. But thinking on it, there was at least one color that Mason always felt a bit more drawn to than others.

"Well... Silver, I guess. Why do you ask?"

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars turned his head only far enough to glance at Lionel out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, really? Is that the truth?" He looked back out the window, watching each person they passed by. "If you asked each person in this city for their favorite color, each one would say one or another. But for the most part their answer is superficial. They have no reason for saying the color they said. The truth is, most adult human beings don't think about colors even as they see them. Yet they claim to have an opinion when asked for a favorite. So strange..."

The cab stopped at a red light. "What about a color you dislike more than any other?"

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason snorted softly in response to Mars' observations. He was probably right, Mason certainly didn't think about those kinds of things all that often. Even now he couldn't really say why he preferred silver over other colors. If he had to pin it to something it would probably be how it was both neutral and unique at the same time. An ethereal gray that reminded him of metal and moonlight, two of his preferred things.

But Mars' next question had an immediate answer, and Mason didn't hesitate to respond. "Red." Mason's tone was instantly hard, and his gaze bore straight through the taxi's divider, the back of the cabbies disheveled head, and beyond the front windshield into oblivion. It was clear to anyone even remotely observant that Mason was no longer mentally present. His mind had gone far, far away, somewhere deep and dark into his own memory. And wherever he was, Mason looked outright furious.

A phone call. Smoke. Vomit. Blood. Dead weight. Cell phone. Tears. Screams. Gun fire. Noise.

Silence.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars watched Lionel's initial reaction, and then turned back to watching out the window. "Ding... ding..." There was a pause. "... ding. That was the truth, and a good answer. It, and the reason behind it." He looked back, then snapped his fingers sharply. in the confined space. "Please avoid murdering the driver, he is only doing his job. I swear, if I find out you have PTSD or anger management issues... well frankly I don't care much either way, but if it interferes with your work I will have to." He made sure Lionel had heard him and then sighed.

"Okay okay, colors are triggering. How about sports? Watch? Play? Got a team you root for?"

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason was brought back to reality when Mars snapped his fingers, startling into consciousness with a deep exhalation of breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He looked down to his hands and saw the knuckles had gone white with how hard he'd been gripping the shovel's handle. He carefully forced them to relax, getting some sensation back now that he was aware of what he was doing. He tried to calm down somewhat, regulating his breathing and reminding himself that he was here in the now, not then.

Of course Mars' wasn't doing him any favors, as his innocent questions had started to turn into mindless badgering. Mason tried to respond calmly, but was having difficulty reigning in his displeasure. "What? Um... The Giants, sometimes. Does it really matter, though?"

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars ignored his unfriendly friend's nihilistic question. "Giants? How boring. If I wanted to watch sweaty men slam into each other I'd just watch sumo wrestling, or better yet wiretap a teen girl's internet. I'm more of a baseball kind of guy myself. Season tickets to the Yankees. Let me tell you this: if you think paranormal beings can be threatening, you haven't felt anything until you're the only one wearing a Sox hat surrounded by Yankee fans." Mars chuckled as if that was a pleasant memory.

"Hmm... How about..." He tapped his head as if trying to knock loose yet another asinine question to ask. "Oh! Cats or dogs?"

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason sighed once he realized that he wasn't going to get out of these ridiculous 'getting to know you' questions. He really didn't see a point to it, but if Mars was so insistent then Mason would play along for now. But he didn't have to like it. So while he answered Mason just stared out the window, taking in the dirty New York scenery as it passed by at a snail's pace.

"Dogs."

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars watched a person outside walk across the street. "Dogs... I suppose there is hope for you after all."

---

One hour and seventeen minutes later, Mars stepped out of the cab into the light drizzle that was coming down. He made sure to pay the cab fare - they tended to not pick him up again after he skipped out on paying too many times in a row - and took his first good look at the home of the Jameson family. Well, at least one member of the Jameson family. Verdict on the other two was the purpose of this investigation. The home wasn't large, nor was it particularly small. It was a rather standard New England style house that became more popular as one got away from the city and ventured northward.

He knocked on the front door then stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to Lionel. "You're up kiddo," he said with a playful smile as he stepped to the side. "This is your case, show me what you've got." There was a commotion inside the home, and then the door opened.

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason was almost taken aback when Mars suddenly threw him on point for the investigation, but since he'd already tried something similar the other day Mason was almost halfway expecting it. After a brief look of incredulity Mason sighed, shook his head, and then promptly chucked the shovel over the porch railing and beyond the flowerbeds where it clattered into the dirt. Mason thought he heard a cat screech in protest, but right now he couldn't be bothered to look.

Just as Mason straightened out his jacket he was met by the sight of someone peeking through the barest crack in the doorway. The facial features seemed feminine, but with barely an eye showing it was difficult to tell. Mason nodded his head slightly and gave a polite greeting. "Hello, Mrs. Jameson?" The figure nodded, confirming his suspicions. Mason gestured to himself and then to Mars as he continued, "My name's Lionel Mason, and this is my associate Mars. If you have time, we were hoping we could ask you a few questions concerning your late husband." The woman behind the door visibly balked when she heard Mason's intent, and quickly her unease was made evident. "What are you, reporters? The cops already came, I have nothing more to say. No comment!" Mason held up his hands defensively and took a more gentle tone as he tried to placate the woman. "No! No no, nothing like that. We're privately funded investigators. We were asked to look into this matter by a concerned party." Mrs. Jameson seemed to calm down slightly at that, but was still clearly unnerved by the situation. Mason saw the hesitation in her eyes and decided to try and push the issue a little. "You don't have to agree, and you can ask us to stop at any time. All we're hoping to do is find some answers, for ourselves... and for you as well." The eye behind the door looked down thoughtfully as Mason's words sunk in. After a few moments the woman closed her eyes and nodded a few times before giving her answer, "...Alright. Please, come in." She shut the door and undid a few locks before opening it fully and allowing the two men entry into her house. Mason thanked her and walked inside, followed casually by Mars.

The interior was exactly what one might expect from a New England home. A modest foyer that featured a staircase and opened up to various rooms within the house itself. Off to the right was the living space, and to the left appeared to be the dining room. Beyond the staircase was a hallway that lead to a few other rooms, presumably the kitchen among other possibilities. Mrs. Jameson herself was an attractive woman by any standard, though her dress was the typical kind of modest one would expect of a New England housewife. She had long, brown hair that was curled slightly towards the ends, but that was where the attractive qualities ceased. Her face was showing clear signs of stress, and it was obvious she had not been taking as much care with her appearance as she normally might. She looked tired, restless, and from the slight staining of her cheeks it was possible she had been crying not too long ago. Just before she directed the men towards the living room couch Mason looked over his shoulder at the front door. There was no less than three locks and a chain stopper installed on the inside, and from a glance they looked like recent additions.

Mason took the offered couch while Mars did his own thing, as always. Mrs. Jameson took a seat in a lounger diagonally from Mason and looked to him expectantly. Mason reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notepad and a pencil before he began speaking, "First, thank you for agreeing to this Ma'am. And our condolences on your loss." She nodded politely at the gesture, likely having done so many times in recent days.

Getting right down to business, Mason decided to start with the obvious questions and work from there. "Now, could you please describe the events that lead up to your husband's passing?"

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Mars was uncharacteristically silent as he allowed Mason to take the lead. He followed just behind the rookie, observing how he handled himself, while also using the widow's focus onto Mason to scan the inside of the house. There, at the top of the stairs. The young girl peeking around the corner would be one Abigail Jameson. Mars gave a small wave, not enough to attract the widow's attention to himself. For some strange reason parents had this crazy idea that it wasn't good for their progeny to interact with strange people. Honestly, coddling would do no one any good. The whole world is a bottomless sea of strangers, might as well learn to swim young. Mars flicked his wrist and flashed a lollipop for the child to see, then continued on to take a seat on the couch beside his own little child. Well, Mason wasn't nearly as cute as a child but whatever, cute faces were soon scarred int his line of work anyway.

He popped the lollipop into his mouth, with the verbal excuse that he'd recently quit smoking, but his thoughts were still on the girl. He'd only seen some of her from a distance, but his first impression wasn't that she was a zombie. If she was, and the mother wanted to cover up the scent of dirt and decay, this house should be swimming in artificial scents, but aside from a handful of unlit candles the home smelled perfectly normal. He'd have to interact with the girl directly to learn anything more solid. The stick in his mouth moved with Mars' attention back towards the widow.

"You've probably heard about... about the thing that happened to Abigail," the woman pointedly avoided saying what had happened, that her daughter had died, been confirmed dead. "When that happened, Will was destroyed. I... wasn't home when it happened, it was just him watching her. He blamed himself. I... After the funeral, he wanted to be left alone. I didn't..." The woman somehow found tears she hadn't used up yet, and now those began to slide down her cheeks. "A few days later I get a call saying that his body was found. Then someone tells me there's a girl saying her name is Abigail Jameson." She wiped the tears away. "Listen Mr. Mason, I don't know what's happening. I don't know how my husband... I don't know,. And I don't know how Abigail is here, but it is her, and I won't be letting anyone interrogate her or study her like she's some carnival oddity. By some miracle, she's here, and that's all that matters. I'll answer your questions, tell you whatever you want, but you are not to speak to my daughter."

 

[KamiKahzy]

Mason saw the resolve in her eyes when she spoke, the kind of resolve that only a mother can have when her child's well being is at stake. He'd seen it dozens of times before and knew better than to get in the way of it. "I understand ma'am, I'll leave Abigail out of this."

Of course, that didn't mean Mason couldn't work his way around her wishes.

Mason made to start asking another question, but then his mouth closed and he looked at his watch as if he'd just remembered something. He reached over and smacked Mars on the shoulder playfully with an exasperated look on his face. "Honestly, how many times do I have to keep remembering this for you? It's your body, man." Mason looked back over to the newly confused Mrs. Jameson and apologetically explained to her, "I'm sorry, but my partner seems to have forgotten about his medication. He's overdue, and he has it with him, but it would be best if he had access to a bathroom. Would it be alright if he left to take care of it?"