Deuce crouched on the rooftop barely five blocks away from the 21st precinct, the rain had reduced to a drizzle and it was soaking his armour. Below, were runners for a gang, he was following the subtle hints that Rachel dropped in her articles, he didn't realise there were clues in her articles until he looked closer. It's possible these runners were a part of the Kruger gang that was rising fast and dropping bodies.
The men were drinking and talking, oblivious of the shadowy figure on a rooftop above them.
Deuce didn't make any move, the time wasn't right. Tonight was not for striking. Tonight was for watching, gathering information, cataloguing and testing the limits of his rebuilt surveillance rigs. Above the laughing men but slightly below Deuce were small drones, almost invisble. The drones were transmitting their conversation into Deuce's helmet display and sound piece.
Everything was going into his record. Every name, every face, every plate and every licence.
People say, "Information is power", he had been starved of this power all through his trial, while the city of Victoria stepped on his name. Those days of ignorance and silence were over.
One of the men following an instruction hopped into a truck and started to drive away. Deuce's gauntlet let out a slight hum as he tapped a command, sending a drone to tail the truck. Somehow he needed to get to the men at the top of this operation.
Rachel had died trying to reveal these connections and digging further, one would find out that she was not the only one.
Victoria city's new ghost was making his investigations.
In a different part of the city, someone else was digging into Rachel's work and her death. It was Jesse
This was a Black and White mission and both men unaware of each other's plans and movements were determined to restore sanity to Victoria city.
A surpisingly sunny saturday afternoon, Lieutenant Kennedy dressed down in jeans and a leather jacket showed up at Jesse's door. He knocked on the door with the back of his knuckles continously until Jesse pulled the door open, fatigue obvious on his face.
Kenedy stepped past Jesse without and invitation and paused on entrance. "Christ!", he muttered "This is a saturday right 'cause it does not look like you remember what a weekend is supposed to look like. Why does your apartment look like a mini version of the precinct?"
Jesse ran his fingers through his black hair as he shut the door. "Someone has to keep this city from falling apart".
Kennedy glanced around the apartment as he went for the only couch in the living room. The place looked as empty as he remembered when he was helping Jesse move in barely two months ago. Even a cave man had more decorations than Jesse did- no pictures, no television, no paintings on the wall, not even a flower to make the place look lively. A pile of case files were spread across the kitchen table and the desk in the living room
"At some point, even a ghost would get tired of this kind of setting," Kennedy said while Jesse walked to the kitchen to get a drink from the fridge. "You have no friends, no hobbies that i recall and women, that is a topic i can't even land on. The only thing I've ever seen you take home is paperwork or you think I don't notice?"
Jesse chuckled. "I do take a headache home sometimes".
"That is not funny Jesse". Kennedy shot back. Jesse returned with two bottles of beer and handed one to Kennedy. "Seriously kid, you're gonna burn out before thirty if you continue like this. That is the main reason I am dragging you to dinner with my family tonight. No excuses".
"You know I don't do family dinners" Jesse said flatly.
"Well you are a part of my family so yeah, you do family dinners". Kennedy countered. "Lena's already making extra. She thinks you're mostly skin and bones and she's not so wrong, you could look better".
Jesse sighed and bent forward to push the case files on the desk to the floor when Rachel Moore's ID fell out of the pile, Kennedy saw it before Jesse could hide it.
Kennedy picked it up and lifted it slowly, his expression hardening by the second. "You're keeping trophies now?"
Jesse froze, 'I need to learn to clean up after myself', he thought.
"Kennedy-"
"Tell me Jesse, what in the name of God are you doing with a dead reporters ID in your apartment, an ID that CSU could not even find at the scene?"
For a silent moment, the hum of the refrigerator was all that was heard in the tense living room. Seconds later, he exhaled.
"She wasn't killed randomly," he muttered. "Rachel Moore was looking into something or someone called Kruger. Pike was following a similar trail before he disappeared. Two people, same trail don't just end up dead by coincidence. My gut tells me that she discovered something and that is what got her killed"
Kennedy's face darkened. "And you have been looking into this off the books? Alone?"
"If I bring it up at the precinct, you know how it'll go," Jesse said. "No one will pay any attention to it, it will get buried. Or worse, someone in the force tips this Kruger people off. This girl deserves to be more than just another name on a list, she deserves better than to be a footnote in a closed file".
Kennedy rubbed his eyes and sighed. "That is dangerous ground, Jesse. You know Internal Affairs would skin you alive if they found out"
"I really don't care about IA," Jesse replied with a calm but sharp tone. "Rachel was closing in on something. This kruger, Black industries, Pike's death, it's all tied together. This is why she was murdered and it's being shelved as a random case? A dead officer was seen leaving her apartment before she died, something's wrong and I'm told to let it go?" He shook his head. "I can't, Kennedy. I won't"
"Damn it, Jesse" Kennedy swore under his breath. "You are instinctive, I'll give you that but you are not invincible. You should be more careful, your career is on the rise. If you keep this up, you'll end up the next body on the slab".
"You're probably right, but i can't just let it go".
Kennedy's eyes didn't leave Jesse for a long moment, he was studying him. "Fine, just be carefully and if you need me in any way, you can call. But you are still coming to dinner, my wife will skin me alive I show up without you now. Come on, we are getting drinks for dinner, we are out of any liquid in my house".
Dinner at Kennedy's home was warmer that Jesse expected. The home was loud and alive and everything Jesse's life wasn't. The sailvating smell of roast chicken and baked bread filled the dining room, mingling with the soft sound of music coming from the music player in the living room.
Kennedy's two kids argued over whose slice of pie was bigger while Lena, Kennedy's wife was fussing over who wanted seconds. Jesse smiled. The kindness in Lena's eyes disarmed Jesse almost instantly, though she paid him so much attention like he was one of her kids. Jesse did feel like he was in a world completely different from his.
The kids darted out after dinner claiming they didn't want desert yet but really stalling so they could have theirs with the left overs.
"You work way too much," Lena said as they dug into their desert. "Kennedy tells me you live off coffee and crime scenes, you know that's not how to live".
Jesse let out a slight chuckle. "He is exaggerating. Sometimes i switch to whiskey at night".
Kennedy groaned. "Don't encourage her Jesse".
"You should go out, meet people". Lena leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. You know, I have a cousin who's moving back into town. She's sweet, single and I could introduce you two...."
Jesse nearly choked on his drink. "Um. I uh, I appreciate it but I've..... got quite a lot going on".
Kennedy laughed as he shook his head."I told you, this one's hopeless". He was enjoying Jesse's discomfort though.
When dinner was over, Jesse left with a full stomach and a heart filled with gratitude. The warmth, laughter, feeling of togetherness in the air, the gentle chaos of a family- it felt almost foreign, it felt painful to him as he didn't have that in his own life. It felt like something stolen from him before he even had a chance to understand it.He never knew his true family, never got the luxury of that kind of memory. Just a blank space, a hole in his history. He sometimes wondered if that was why silence followed him everywhere.
He walked to the bike parked outside, Kennedy lent him his bike for the night. He was about to hop onto the bike when a low, almost inaudible hum caught his attention and somehow he saw it before he heard it-a powerbike gliding down the street, sleek, whisper-silent, sliding through the street like a shadow.
There was something off about it. There was no headlights, no engine roar. It was just too smooth, it moved with deliberate precision of it's rider, cloaked in black, helmet down and hood raised.
Jesse's instincts flared, he didn't think. He just hopped on his bike and followed with dimmed headlights. The rider weaved through back alleys, narrow lanes, cutting across deserted intersections. Jesse did his best to keep his distance and avoid being noticed. Jesse's pulse quickened as the rider slid into the industrial quarter- a graveyard of abandoned warehouses and silent monuments, evidences of the city's decay.
The bike slowed and stopped beside one of the buildings. The rider dismounted, even his boots couldn't be heard on the wet gravel, 'It must have rained in this part of town' Jesse thought. The rider skillfully slipped inside the warehouse.
Jesse parked his bike behind a dumpster just a building away. He tip toed to the building where the bike stopped and he crouched behind a dumpster, his breath now steady. He silently wondered who was under the hood, a smuggler? a runner for a gang? a gang scout?. The rider moved too deliberately, like someone trained, like a soldier.
Minutes later, the rider emerged from the building. His hood was drawn low but his mask was still visible, his identity was totally obscured. He marched towards his bike then suddenly, he stopped and turned his head towards the dumpster where Jesse was hiding.
Jesse froze in place. The rider walked towards the dumpster and Jesse's hand twitched towards the sidearm under his jacket, but something made him pause. The hooded man stopped a few feet away, just a step away from the glistening moon light. Then he spoke with a low sharp voice.
"Be careful where you walk, Detective".
Jesse stood up straight, the rider had noticed him following all along. Jesse said nothing.
"You should not trail shadows through this city," the hooded rider continued, his tone heavy with warning. "The shadows can sometimes bite back".
Still saying nothing, Jesse noticed something in the stranger's grip, he couldn't identify what it was but it looked liked a baton.
"Go home detective, this trail is too dangerous for you"
Without another word, he returned to his bike and mounted it. The engine purred gently- it didn't roar, only a slight hum was heard. In a split second, he was gone, swallowed by the night.
Jesse stood rooted to a spot, his pulse pounding. He couldn't identify the man, he couldn't even guess. He wondered why he didn't say anything to the hooded stranger.
He might not have known who was under the hood but he was convinced of one thing.
Someone else was hunting in Victoria, the city had grown a new shadow. And for the first time in years, Jesse was unsure of how to feel about it.
He wasn't sure who he just encountered, an ally or a new predator.