The Shadow's Acid

VI.

The plot thickens

TW: blood, gore, injuries, a n g s t

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Grian made his way further into the room, carefully picking his way through the bloodstained papers and books. The same sweet smell was thick in the air, oppressing his senses and causing his eyes to swell with tears. He bent down at the lockers, scrutinizing the metal interiors.

Liquid dripped on his hand from one of the shelves and he hissed in pain as it burned into the side of his thumb. He rubbed his hand on the leg of the table, scraping away the acid. The raw skin where he'd been burnt was already oozing liquid from the quick action of the substance.

Grian shuddered, refocusing his attention on Cub. He stepped through the dry patches on the wood, crouching near the chemist's head. Slashes littered his back, staining his white lab coat with splatters of blood.

Grian frowned, looking at the amount of blood flooding the room. Slowly, he reached out and turned the chemist onto his back, revealing the heavy wound that tore through Cub's stomach. It stretched at a diagonal from the ribs on his right side to his hip, red and deep. Grian grimaced as he caught a glimpse of organs through the torn tissue.

It was obvious the scientist had created the deadly acid in his lab. However, the scene raised more questions than it answered. Had Cub created the chemical for a specific person? Had he been the one behind the murders? If he was, who found out and murdered him as a gruesome form of recompense?

Grian shook his head. He was almost certain that Cub was solely the creator of the chemical, and nothing else. However, what had forced him to keep silent during the meeting? Was it shock? A threat of death? He scowled, rifling through the papers that littered the floor. Chemical equations and numbers stared back at him, jumbling themselves together in senseless rows only Cub truly understood.

He stood, frowning at the bloodstains in his trousers. He poked around the lab for clues, frustration taking hold as he continued to find none. He returned to Cub. The blood was starting to dry on the front of his lab coat, stiffening the fabric. The wound was already dry, having bled all it could. Grian rested his hand on the corpse's shoulder, saying a silent goodbye before rejoining Mumbo outside.

The mustached hermit was still pressing the cloth to Bdubs' head, Stress having not arrived yet. He glanced worriedly at Grian before looking up and down the street as he had undoubtedly done multiple times already. Grian sighed, checking the builder's vital signs before grabbing fresh wool from his bag. Bdubs' pulse was weak and irregular from the blood loss, the wool having been fully soaked through.

"Cub's dead," Grian said flatly. "There's been what looks like a fight in the lab downstairs, and the cabinets for the hazardous chemicals have been broken into." He rubbed his thumb where the acid had burned it. "I couldn't find anything down there; just notes and equations scattered about the room and blood everywhere."

Mumbo nodded, shifting his position slightly. "I feel like I'm running out of steam or something, Mumbo," the detective continued. "There have been so many things happening today. I can't keep up." There was a beat of silence as he stared off into the twilight. "Mumbo," he whispered, "what if I can't figure out this mystery? Are more people going to die because I can't follow the clues? Four people have died in the last week, three of them in the last twenty-four hours. Will the deaths never stop?"

Mumbo sat silently, observing Bdubs' ragged breathing. Finally, he spoke: "Grian, I don't know what the outcome will be. However, I do know that you'll figure it out. You always do! But right now, we need to focus on saving this one life in front of us. It's a long road ahead of us, and we need to take it one step at a time. That's the secret of everything, isn't it?"