The dying infirmary lights flickered as Agent Maya Wolfe and Senior Agent Hale faced the body, sprawled out on the floor. Fresh blood stained the cream and teal tiles, and a violent gash tore across the dead man’s mangled chest.
“How can someone serving a life sentence just go and die anyway?” Maya said, gesturing. “Isn’t that cheating?”
Senior Agent Hale pinched his nose. Maya liked to think his frequent nose pinches were what intensified the wrinkles around his lips.
“I mean, in an infirmary, too?” she continued. “You’d think they’re supposed to save lives here, not…well, you know.”
“Really, Maya? Humor, at a time like this?” Senior Agent Hale sighed.
“Well, sir, I’d like to hear you name a better coping mechanism. Steelstorm himself’s been brutally murdered in the world’s most secure prison. We need everything we can get.”
In the corner of the room, a fellow agent examined a security camera from atop a ladder. “The cameras were disabled,” she called out, stepping down. “If we take the freshness of the body into account, the East Wing’s power completely blacked out at the time Steelstorm was murdered.”
“So, this was planned,” Maya said, jotting down on her notepad.
She turned her wrist upwards, and a translucent white line floated where her suit jacket sleeve met her dress shirt. At a swipe, the white line expanded into a white screen; several circular buttons floated vertically in the air. Below buttons for Settings, Friends, Messages, Map, and Self, she tapped the fist icon.
A Fighter would’ve seen their own moveset and stats, but for a civ’ like her, she could only access the Fighting Network, the online hub for live-streamed fights and tournaments. Though the front page began playing a streamed local fight — two prisoners in another cell duking it out — she tapped on the search bar at the top, and a holographic white keyboard appeared below her menu.
A quick search for ‘Steelstorm’ brought the answer she needed. “Coincidentally, the fight ended right before the time of death,” Maya said.
Senior Agent Hale watched her search, nodding. “Do we have records of any nurses in the room at the time?”
“Only one,” said the agent collecting fingerprints from the counter across the room. “Eyewitnesses reported a female nurse escorting Steelstorm after an apparent injury, but her records are a deadend. Officially, she never existed here before today, and she’s MIA.”
“Then the only person who really knows what happened is Steelstorm’s opponent, Electrohead,” Maya said.
“Which isn’t another deadend, thankfully!”
Standing at 7 feet tall, Senior Agent Decker ducked underneath the doorway, his unnaturally long legs bending so that his head didn’t smack into the top of the threshold. He swept a hand through his blonde hair before placing his hat back on top and adjusting his suit jacket. “The lights went out, and the next thing he knew, Steelstorm was dead and the nurse was bloody gone.”
“Then that’s our prime suspect,” Senior Agent Hale said. “We need to get the camera logs of the time leading up to Steelstorm’s death, to identify this nurse.”
“But, we can’t focus purely on this nurse. What about the pattern, here?”
As Agent Hale sighed, Agent Decker chuckled to himself. “Oh, guys, get a load of this again,” he called out to the other agents investigating around the room.
“No, listen!” Maya said. “The thirty-fifth-ranked Fighter in the entire world was found dead after someone challenged him and took his place, and his challenger testified that someone attacked them. What about last week, with Tempest at the Alabaster Mosque? Or Gold Sable, before that? This isn’t just a bunch of coincidences — there’s a pattern, here!”
“No way, really? Duh!” Agent Decker spat. He crouched down to Maya’s level, gesturing at the insignia sewn into his suit jacket’s shoulder. “Agent Wolfe, you see this patch? You know what it means?”
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Maya lowered her journal, clenching the sheets of paper with an iron grip. “Don’t treat me like I’m a—”
“It means I’m a Senior Agent of the Supernatural Investigation Unit. That means that I call the shots on the cases assigned to my crew, and I say that you should quit wasting time on treading old ground. Leave it to the big wigs, kid.”
He jabbed a finger into her face, and his finger stretched a few inches longer like rubber. Maya set her jaw, but before she could let the words fly, Agent Hale grasped Agent Decker’s wrist tightly. A blood-red hue shimmered through his sharp eyes, pulsing through crimson veins underneath his dark skin.
“Decker,” he growled. “I recommend you take a step back from my subordinate before things get real ugly.”
“Oh, really? What’re you gonna do, demon boy? Are you gonna show these other agents your true colors behind that cool exterior? We can reenact what happened when you did that last week, if you'd like.” Decker grinned.
“You can’t hurt me with that. In our line of work, only self-centered assholes care about their ranking more than doing their damn job.”
The grin drained from Decker’s face. Agent Hale released his grip, allowing him to stand back up. “Fine. But you and I both know she doesn't have that same bargaining chip. A powerless Agent, following the scraps of a case like this?” He glanced at Maya, making eye contact. “You’re in over your head. Better take my word before you find out the hard way, kid.”
Agent Hale released his drawn breath, rolling his neck, planting his hands into his pockets. “Clearly, Agent Decker’s unit has this handled. Let’s go, Agent Wolfe.”
Maya resisted the urge to flip off Decker as they left the room and headed down the hallway. Agent Hale plucked a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and placed the stick at the end of his lips, snapping at the end. A spark of flame jumped from his fingertips, and the tip came alive with a low orange glow.
“He has no right to talk to anyone like that,” Maya said, breaking the silence as their feet tapped against the tile.
Agent Hale exhaled, filling the musty prison with the dry scent of smoke. “It’s not, but spearheading the largest unit in the SIU does things to a man’s ego. He’s right, under all that swagger.”
“Right?” Maya quickened her pace to look him right in the eye. “A man is dead, Hale — the fourth member of the Fifty in the past month. How much longer can we leave this to his unit?”
“Decker’s a Senior Agent for a reason, Wolfe. He’ll take as long as he needs for them to serve justice the right way.”
“Steelstorm was a criminal, but he had family. Friends. Fans. So did Tempest, and Gold Sable.”
“Be patient,” Hale whispered sharply.
“How many more need to die?!”
“You can’t do everything yourself, Maya!” Hale shouted, stopping in his tracks, voice echoing along the walls. “Senior Agent Decker’s unit was assigned the case. When will you leave it to them and focus on our cases?”
“I can do both!”
“That’s not how it looked last week. Twotone got away because you rushed in alone instead of waiting for me to arrive like I ordered you to.”
“How was I supposed to know self-destruction was one of his abilities?!”
“Because it was literally listed in the case file! But no, you were so focused on following Tempest’s death, since that case is more important than your actual job,” he spat.
Maya’s breath caught in her throat. “This isn’t about my job. You just don’t think I can handle it.”
“You saved me the work of having to spell it out for you. You’re not cut out for a case that big — end of story.”
“Oh, because I’m powerless? Because I’m not a Fighter, like you?”
Card sighed, pinching his nose. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Maya. I admit — you have the best shot of any Agent I’ve seen, but that can’t compensate for facing a man that can self-destruct and put himself back together. A case like this, you aren’t just trying to swim with the sharks. You’re asking to sink with the titanic.”
Maya shook her head, exhaling slowly through her nose as her heart pounded in anger. “Fine. Why are we leaving, anyway?”
“Twotone’s resurfaced at a Fighting Center across town. We’re finishing this today.”
Though she followed Agent Card through the prison silently, Maya couldn’t keep her mind off of the details she jotted down in her notebook. Something was up, here. Top fighters in the world were dropping like flies with similar patterns for months, yet Decker didn’t seem any closer to a lead than he was five deaths ago.
No amount of words could stop her. No lack of power could stop her — she would get to the bottom of this and serve justice herself, no matter the cost.