TW: blood, injuries, dead bodies, blood
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Grian sat at the desk, tapping the nib on the wood. Ink splattered across the oak table, making a few blue spots on the paper. He sighed, mopping up the mess with a rag. He stared at the clock, watching the hand creep closer and closer to midnight. It struck, his tall clock ringing its ancient bell.
Across the sleeping city, more clocks rang out, ringing eerily across the rooftops. They were out of sync and out of tune with each other. The haunting peals blended and rebounded, lending the air a chilly and spooky tone. Caspian cooed softly from his perch, burying his head further under his wing as the bells concluded ringing.
Grian turned back to his paper, left hand buried in his hair as he made more nonsensical marks. He frowned, drawing a line through what he had written. Scowling, he crumpled the paper, grabbing a new sheet from the stack on the end of the table. Taking the quill, he began anew.
First kill = Beef. Possible motives: beating everyone at UNO? Also had a minor conflict with Keralis over where he would sell his steaks. Wels had an incident with Beef a year ago, too. An evil clone, I think. 'Rache' is German, so perhaps Doc? I don't know if anyone else speaks the language... Iskall, maybe. Keralis is (again) a possibility? No clue.
He tapped the feather against his lip, the bristles tickling the skin. Frowning, he started a new line, leaving space for more notes.
Tango. He's annoyed everyone at least once. I'm sure all of those have been made up, though. It doesn't sound like anyone is still angry. I've heard about Doc's revenge tendencies... This kill could also be a ruse to distract from the actual killer, though. No real leads.
Cub. I can see a motive, since he knew who took the acid. I doubt he would have kept any records, though. Even if he did, I doubt they're anywhere near accessible. Honestly, I'm surprised the murderer got away. Cub doesn't seem like the person who would let them escape.
Grian sighed, the tedious work boring him. He stood, walking to the window and staring at the moonless night. Clouds crept across the sky, dully reflecting what little light there was from the stars. The streets were dark, the lanterns blown out for the time being. Somewhere below him, a zombie moaned, only to be cut down by a patrolling Ravager.
Wels had upped the security, sending Ravagers to patrol the streets while the city rested. However, the chief of security, Xisuma, and Grian all knew that nowhere in the city was safe from the Labyrinth and the person lurking in them. All they could hope was that the Ravagers would prevent the killer from escaping.
He stretched, a coil of anxiety preventing him from sleep. His stomach churned, detecting that something was amiss. Of course, being a stomach, it wouldn't tell him what it was. He stumbled down the dark staircase, lighting a candle as he went. He lit the lantern in the sitting room, going to the kitchen to set the kettle on the stove.
He returned, settling into the armchair to wait for the water to boil. Something ran into his window, producing a resounding thump in the silent house. Grian jumped up, taking a candle to the glass. Wings fluttered, beating against the panes as the pigeon fought to enter through the invisible glass.
He allowed the bird to enter, opening the window just far enough for it to squeeze through. It collapsed on the floor, jumping up only seconds later to scurry about, panicking. Grian grabbed it, tucking the bird under one arm and stroking its head with his hand. It pecked at his fingers, protesting the action in its panic.
"What's wrong, boy?" he asked, noting the spot patterns on the wings. "You're False's pigeon, right?" It cooed at the name of its owner. "Something's wrong at the castle, isn't it." The bird answered by struggling out of his grip and flying into the front hall.
"Alright, I know what I'm doing now." Grian sighed tiredly. "You do realize it's nearly one in the morning, right?" The pigeon didn't respond, pecking at the door handle. The detective grabbed his trench coat, pulling the fabric around his ears as he opened the door into the chilly night.
A Ravager sat outside, its yellow eyes surveying the night. Grian locked his door and approached him slowly, extending a hand to let the beast smell him. It narrowed its eyes before bringing itself lower so Grian could climb on. Evidently, Wels had taught the creatures to trust Grian, although commands were yet to be learned and obeyed.
"To the castle, Ravager." It snorted, jingling the nearly imperceptible name tag on its neck. Attached were two notes, one with its name, Technoger, and the other with a short message from Wels.
Use his name. I put similar messages and name tags on each of the patrolling Ravagers. Pray to Notch you won't need to ride them.
Grian, refolded the paper, tucking it back in the name tag pouch. "To the castle, Technoger," he commanded, leaning down to speak near its ear. "Quickly."
The beast set out at a gallop, its gait evening out as it hit its maximum speed. The city flew by in a blur, dark windows glinting off the lights from his candle. The flame flickered in the wind, and Grian brought his other hand up to protect his miniature light. Technoger skidded to a stop outside the castle's doors, letting Grian slide off his back. False's pigeon led the way, rapping on the massive doors and waiting for Grian to haul them open.
He did so, journeying down the dark halls and following the flaps of the pigeon in front of him. A crash of glass resounded from the night, the twinkling crystals of glass falling and shattering on the rooftop. He bounded up the stairs toward the guest suite. Blood pounded in his ears as he arrived, breathless.
Thank you, stomach, he thought bitterly, opening the door. Immediately, the iron tang of blood hit his senses, along with the smell of burnt flesh. He reached to the side of the door, finding the first lantern and lighting it.
Blood soaked the carpet, staining the teal wool a nasty brown. Blond hair covered the face of the victim, although it was so covered in blood it was barely recognizable. The carpet was eaten away, burned by the acid. He took a tentative step forward, growling when a small plume of smoke rose from his shoe.
He navigated around the acid-infested fluid, crouching near False's head. Her sword was drawn and had fallen from her hand where she fell. The iron was slick with the liquid, unaffected by the substance. Grian grimaced, eyes traveling along the body.
A trail of blood, barely noticeable in the dim light, ran down the hallway to the guest rooms at the end. Grian ran down the hall, False's pigeon close behind. The bloody path entered and exited the first room, bloodier the second time. The liquid was splattered on the wall, running down the flowered wallpaper and soaking into the baseboards.
Grian nudged open the first door, candle held high to illuminate the interior. Crimson morbidly decorated every surface, reflecting the candlelight sinisterly. He took another step into the room, immediately stopping as he came upon the body.
The new, yet familiar ginger hair stood out from the remainder of the dark room. Gem's glassy eyes stared into space, inexplicably filled with fear and panic. The sheets were rumpled, thrown across the room in fright. He surveyed the room one last time before retracing his footsteps to the other room
Dread filled his mind as cold reality started to settle in. Pearl was, most likely, dead, if the murderer managed to hold true to his silent record. None of the killer's victims had escaped, save for Bdubs, who currently suffers from a severe concussion back at his barbershop.
He entered, taking in the catastrophe. False's pigeon alighted on his shoulder, nibbling his ear as he stood in shock. Somehow, Pearl's room was worse. A fight had broken out, shards of glass from a mirror and pottery lying scattered about, along with the broken window allowing the cold night air to infiltrate the room.
Perhaps the worst was the lack of blood. Although there was a clear trail around the room from the previous victims, the overwhelming flood was absent. Grian bent lower, crouching over the crimson footprints. Clumps of hair were strewn across the room, although they weren't long enough to be Pearl's.
The lanterns in the hallway flared to life. Grian looked up to see Xisuma standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "You'd better explain, Grian."
"X, I swear it wasn't me. I'll prove it to you." The admin inclined his head, remaining dead silent. "Look at my coat. The blood's only on the bottom edges from when I was bending over to look at clothes." The admin maintained his stoic silence. Grian removed the trench coat, stepping out into the brightly lit hallway. "My sweater is clean, as are my trousers, for the most part. The blood here is fresh, meaning they were killed not too long ago. I wouldn't have time to change."
Xisuma sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I trust you, Grian. I'm stressed out and worried. These are my people. I need to protect them. Even Gem and Pearl, who were just visitors, are my responsibility. I've failed them, Grian. I've failed."
"I- you- you haven't failed," Grian stammered, unsure of what to say. "You haven't failed. There's been death, yes, but that doesn't make you a failure. Failing is giving up before you've tried your hardest. Success is continuing onward."
Xisuma nodded, unable to find the right words. Sunlight began filtering through the windows, illuminating the chaos. Grian turned to face the light, guiltily realizing he'd pulled an all-nighter. Something glinted on the broken shards of the window. He stepped through the disorder, picking his way through the glass.
He picked up strands of dark brown hair, holding them against the newly risen sun's light. He peered downward, looking at the disarray of glass and roofing tiles scattered across the roof. He turned back to Xisuma, holding up his finding.
"Xisuma, I started working on notes for motives at my house. I'll bring them to you and then go on a little excursion."
"You're not going to the Labyrinth again, right?"
"Nope." Grian smiled, glee breaking through his fatigue. "It's time to get a haircut."