How many more times are you planning on visiting that man, Jojo? You're aware that he's going to die in only a few more days, aren't you?
The Chosen One played oblivious to her guardian spirit's grouching as she headed for the tower where the Overlord and previous King of Zarland was imprisoned.
She had made this trip almost every day in the past few months. Her route had become so familiar to the locals of Zarland's capital that greeting the Heroine of Five Realms had become part of many of their morning schedules. There was a fruit seller who always lobbed a fresh apple her way. On numerous occasions, she had attempted to pay for it, but after so many rejections, she learned to simply accept the free morning snack with an appreciative smile.
Just what do you think it looks like for you to keep going and coming from where that tyrant is being housed? Josephine's guardian spirit began again. 'There are some unscrupulous rumors about you two being spread, Jojo. You feed into them every time you step into that tower again.'
"Ziz, you've seriously gotta settle down," she said while chewing on her fresh fruit and walking the lengthy bridge that led to the tower. "I don't care about any of that stuff, and you know that."
Could you at least tell me why you're doing this then? Despite the connection we both share, I genuinely can't make heads or tails of your motivations here.
Josephine shrugged. "I'm going because there's not a whole lot else to do lately. I've been used to always having a ton on my plate, but lately… I dunno, things have just been peaceful for me. The Thread doesn't have a lot for me at the moment I guess. So, one day, I was like — 'You know what would be fun? Going to mess with the Overlord! He's locked up, so it's not like he's got anything better to do than be bugged by me anyway.' And as it turns out, he's not a bad listener."
Listening to your stories is an easy thing to do when you're locked in a cage, Jojo. Much distaste as I have for Kornelia, my fate as one bound to your soul isn't too dissimilar from his.
"You're making it sound like I'm harassing him. I just finally found someone besides you who'll listen to my stories about my previous life, and I want to make the best out of it that I can. Even Francesca, when she used to try to listen to my stories, I could tell she thought I was just retelling her dreams that I had."
It is all quite far-fetched for anyone from Ein to digest, Ziz said as his mistress greeted the tower's guards before heading on inside. Truth be told, where it not for the spiritual connection you and I share that allows me to know when your heart is true, even I would doubt your words. Many of your stories sound downright ludicrous. A world of technology that makes the most advanced cities on Ein look primitive; all without a single sorcerer, elf, dragon, or apparition to be found. Children's tall tales are not so wonderous as the world you claim to have reincarnated from, Jojo.
"You could say the exact same thing about Ein from my perspective. Everything about this world is something straight out of a fantasy novel or videogame."
Ziz sighed. For the umpteenth time: I have no concept of these 'videogames' you keep making mention of. Every time you attempt to describe them to me, it sounds more nonsensical than before.
Josephine shrugged. Matthiaz, who also had no conception of a 'videogame' or any of the other technology Josephine brought up to him, always seemed to grasp these sorts of topics within a few minutes of hearing about them. Granted, Matthiaz Kornelia was known for his quick wits. She had witnessed firsthand what that wicked mind of his was capable of. On many occasions, she and her comrades nearly lost everything against the Overlord. Genuinely, she felt as if no opponent she had faced prior to the tyrant had pushed her so close to the brink. Ziz was not wrong to wonder why Josephine visited Matthiaz so often. While she joked about just visiting to annoy him and eat some of his food while he painted, she was not naive to the true motive behind her visits.
"…I think I can still save him," she admitted as she was halfway up the tower's steps.
Halt the execution you mean? Do you not know the temperament of the Overlord's brother? Did you forget what Francesca said about her twin? He is not a magnanimous man, and the grudge he holds against his younger brother is a vindictiveness I previously thought impossible for those of the same blood to hold against each other. Truly a tragic bloodline this Kornelia Dynasty is. No wonder Francesca wants nothing to do with it.
"I get all that, but still… All Ferdinand wants is for Matthiaz to just 'bend the knee' and accept exile on some small island in the middle of the Obsidian Sea. So long as he does that, his life could be spared, and he could live comfortably."
Jojo, even if Ferdinand is a man of his word — and we both have little reason to assume such a silly thing — do you truly believe the man whom you are about to visit would accept such a thing? I will admit that Matthiaz Kornelia is a man of remarkably good sense, but his pride exceeds all that. He would sooner die than accept any such terms from Ferdinand. Surely, after spending so much time with you, you of all people should know this by now?
Josephine did not answer. She greeted the guards at the entrance to where the Overlord was being held. Taking a moment to think about things, she slapped her cheeks and shook her red head like a dog trying to dry itself off, surprising both the guards with her eccentricity.
"Alright! Let's go give it another shot!"
After pumping herself up, she entered. Initially, he always looked bothered whenever the Chosen One entered the domain he was confined to, but lately, he only gave plain looks in reaction to her arrival. She had worn down even the tyrant's agitation.
"The food thief finally makes her appearance," he commented while painting something. "And what absurd stories are you going to bombard me with today, Chosen One?"
Josephine just grinned as grabbed her usual seat in front of Matthias's prison cell. She would do it one day. One day, the Chosen One would definitely save this stubborn Overlord.
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Josephine jolted awake, her head pounding. She groaned and rubbed her temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain. The dream lingered in her mind - a vivid fantasy world filled with magic, castles, and a certain dark-haired boy she knew all too well.
"...I have been reading and playing a lot of fantasy stuff lately," she concluded.
Heat crept into her cheeks as she recalled Matthias's presence in her dream. Why was he appearing in her subconscious now? She wasn't even seeing him as much as she used to before summer break started. She briefly peeked through her curtains at Matthias's room in the house adjacent to her own. His lights were not on, but lately, it was not unusual for her to wake up in the middle of the night and find evidence that Matthias was still up and doing whatever it was that he was always getting up to.
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"So, just how longer do you plan on sticking around here, Angel?"
The former gang leader looked up at the black market psytechnician with an exasperated look. She sat cross-legged in his workshop scrolling through the news on her tablet and taking up, what the technician at least considered to be, valuable space.
"You trying to kick me out of here, Bobby?" Angel asked.
"Yes. And the sooner the better. I let you haunt our workshops because we had history and I knew you were in sorry straits. It's been a good minute since all that shit with ARES went down and you lost your gang, so it's about time you stretch those wings again, baby girl."
"C'mon, Bobby! Don't tell her that," one of the technician said halfway through reassembling a drone that was illegal to possess and operate in 42 US states. "Angel still needs to lay low for a minute longer."
"Shut up! All you guys are just trying to keep her around long enough to see if she'll let you hit it. None of you are fooling anyone."
The technician snorted as he got back to his work.
Angel scoffed, tossing her tablet aside. "I'll be out of your hair soon enough, Bobby. Just need to finalize some arrangements first."
"And just what arrangements would that be?" a voice cut in.
A man in a sleek suit strolled into the workshop, his demeanor calm and somewhat high-hatted. Bobby eyed him bizarrely, wondering how he had even managed to get this far into their compound without him either being stopped or Bobby being alerted to his presence.
"Who the hell are you, and how'd you get in here?" he asked.
"Doyle," the man replied coolly. "And I just walked right in."
The technicians exchanged wary glances as some of Bobby's crew reached for their weapons.
"Easy now," Doyle said, raising his hands. "I'm only here to escort Ms. Dawkins off the premises, as requested. My boss has business with her."
Angel narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere with you, asshole. Everything about you screams bad news."
"Bad news!" boomed a large man in a similarly expensive-looking suit who walked in. "She's calling you a creep, Doyle!"
Doyle sighed. "No need to get worked up, Murdock."
Angel stood and flipped the pair off. "I don't care who your boss is. I'm not leaving with you."
Bobby smirked. "You heard the lady. Now get the hell out of my compound before you get made examples out of."
Doyle and Murdock exchanged a glance. Rather than start to leave, they shared a laugh, Doyle giving a light chuckle while Murdock hollered with his whole chest.
"Damn, she's being real obstinate about this, ain't she?" Murdock said in an amused tone while removing his aviators.
"Is it really that much of a surprise? What person in her position would simply go along with some shady men in suits?" Doyle asked. "She'll need encouragement to that type of decision."
Bobby's patience eventually wore thin. "Get these shitheads out of my shop! And mess 'em up good when you do it. If they put up too much of a fight… Just kill 'em, and drop 'em off somewhere."
After he barked this order at his boys they moved in eagerly. Many of them were eager they would have a chance to show off in front of Angel. The two suited men didn't show the slightest hints of intimidation.
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"Do you want to handle this?" Murdock asked.
"No, I'll take care of it," Doyle said. "If you got involved and scratched up that new suit, the boss would kill you."
Murdock snorted as he watched Doyle project a terminal interface screen before him and started tapping away rapidly with one hand. When some of the psytechnicians came at Doyle and Murdock with psytech weapons while others took aim in the back, Doyle made a swift gesture. Ethereal cables shot from his hand, latching onto several technicians' heads. He snapped his fingers and the psytechnicians suddenly began to twitch violently. Their eyes dilated as their vision and psyche both degenerated into some discombobulated fever dream. They turned on each other, and began using their Channelers, guns, and cybernetic armaments to slaughter one another.
"Get away from me… Get the Hell away from me!" one of them screamed while beating to death a half-conscious friend who was weakly pleading for life.
"Why won't you die? Stay down already!" another snapped while shooting at a fellow workshop member who was already dead on the floor.
The workshop had turned into pure carnage — an embodiment of bloody chaos where no technician seemed to still be in possession of his mind. Bobby watched in anguish as his boys murdered each other. Some of them even turned their weapons on themselves, like one who had become convinced that a demon was inside of him and that he could only kill it by stabbing himself.
"W-what…" Angel babbled, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.
Bobby whipped his head over at Doyle.
"He's a mind controller? No… He's a CT hacker too!"
The suited man was using some form of advanced psytech hacking tools in conjunction with PEC to make all of Bobby's workshop boys go insane. Which meant that the easier way to dispel their madness was going straight for Doyle.
He wasted no movements as he charged at Doyle, his heavily modified body giving his speed that even expert Psy-Tuners struggled to keep pace with. His arm transfigured itself into psytech pulse blade that could gash through steel and most k-barriers with ease.
Suddenly, Murdock intervened and stepped in front of Doyle, blocking Bobby's path. Bobby gave this no mind. He would simply cut the large man down before it was Doyle's turn. But before Bobby could take his first swing, Murdock's hand swiped in front of him at a speed Bobby's eyes, even with their cybernetic implants, couldn't keep up with it. In the next instant, Bobby's chest was gashed open. He had modified his chest to become a bulletproof chassis, but blood and scrap metal still flew from it as he crumpled to the ground, dead.
Angel stared wordlessly. The workshop had become a bloodbath, with everyone besides herself and the two men who had come to retrieve her dead. She glared at Murdock and Doyle who looked at her smugly. She shot a blade of wind at the larger one. He didn't attempt to avoid or even block it. He took it straight on. The only damage that was done was to his suit, which was now vandalized by a large slash in the front, without a drop of blood or the faintest scratch to be seen.
"You idiot. Why didn't you dodge that?" Doyle asked annoyedly. "You're going to get chewed out for messing up another suit."
"Stop whining, Doyle. It'll be fine…" Murdock rushed up to Angel at a speed that made Bobby look like a cripple by comparison and put his large hand over her throat. "The boss'll be happy so long as we bring this pretty thing right here back with us."
Angel gagged as Murdock squeezed her neck, relieving the pressure just enough that she wouldn't choke to death. The former gang leader's situation had gone from bad to catastrophic in only a few minutes.
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"Wait. You're serious?" Arthur asked Matthias quizzically.
The boy was seated on the other side of the table they sat at in the cafe where they were discussing their investigation. Spread out on the table were several middle school worksheets, a ruse for anyone glancing their way or passing by their table to fool them into thinking Arthur was some type of summer tutor for Matthias.
"Yeah, I'm positive," Matthias answered. "There's definitely a few discrepancies with some of these old Ripper victims. Like this one right here — Casey Barnes? He probably wasn't killed by the Ripper."
Arthur furrowed his brow. "But how do you know? He fits the same criteria as the other victims."
"Sure, on the surface," Matthias said before taking a sip of his latte. "But so did Lisa and Candace. I had a suspicion that Marcus might not have been the only copycat killer, so I started going back over the old victims and breaking it down to the most common denominator I could find. This kid's cuts are definitely less sloppy than the ones Marcus gave his victims, but it doesn't change the fact that there's nothing special about him."
"Special? What does that have to do with anything? Ain't this kid only 12? Most kids around that age aren't already evil geniuses or whatever like you, Matt.”
Matthias ignored the ‘evil’ part as he brought up on his tablet the list of Rockies Ripper victims, readvised in the past few weeks to exclude Lisa Duffy and Candace Williams.
"Look at this list," Matthias said while sharing his screen.
"What about it? I've seen a lot of these names twelve dozen times already."
"But you've probably never paid attention to the proper context. I'll just list a few of the more noteworthy victims: Ronnie Wang — 9-year-old 'piano genius' from Salt Lake City, Utah who used telekinesis to play pieces that should have been impossible for anyone to play alone. Billy O'Neil — 14-year-old 'chess prodigy' from Helena, Montana who could play at the master level blindfolded, using ESP. Mary Roberts — 10-year-old 'softball princess' from Rock Springs, Wyoming who used Psy-Tuning to pitch at the level of softball players 5 to 6 years her senior. Vanessa Martinez — 11-year-old 'dream artist' from Idaho Falls who could draw portraits of people she saw in her dreams while still sleeping. Peter Patel — 12-year-old 'robotics whiz kid' from Boulder, Colorado who had a knack for working with advanced psytech. Serenity Johnston — 10-year-old 'angelic choir singer' from Fort Collins, Colorado who used PEC to make her voice better resonate. Emmett Banks Jr. — 13-year-old 'track star' from Provo, Utah. He broke the track record for his middle school while a freshman. I could keep going, but I think you understand what I'm getting at here. The Ripper doesn't go after just any kid. They need some type 'special psychic talent."
"So, are all the victims that don't fall under that 'talented' category automatically copycat victims?"
"Not necessarily. It's possible that the Ripper deliberately goes after more random victims as well to purposely throw off the pattern. The person who killed Casey Barnes was definitely a copycat though. The lacerations are sloppy. Casey has no 'special psychic talents' to speak of, and he's the only Ripper victim from the West Coast."
"But why is the Ripper targeting this type of kids with 'talent' at all?"
Matthias shrugged. "Serial killers are weird like that. There are guys who go around specifically killing brunettes with lots of armpit hair because they remind them of their mother who died when they were six or something. There's no telling why his victimology is exactly how it is until we eventually catch him."
"Alright then. I get what you're getting at. …But what your friend? Was Marshall a prodigy too?'
Matthias quietly chewed on a treat for a moment. He disliked having to talk about Marshall despite how pertinent it was to the investigation.
"Marshall was extremely good at academics," he eventually answered. "He skipped a grade, actually. Which is why his bullies were all a year or two older than he was. What likely caught the Ripper's eye was his talent for Psy-Projection that Marshall never tapped into until he started training at my gym. The amount of talent he was making in such a short amount of time is actually crazy to think about. He was even able to beat the guys he was bullying just a few hours before his death." Matthias made a face. "That was probably the moment that sealed his fate though. Wherever the Ripper was hiding, he probably watched that fight Marshall had against the kids that were bullying him, and was impressed enough by what he saw to make Marshall his first new target after his copycat got arrested and made everyone drop their guard. If it was me who fought instead of him, the Ripper probably would've picked me as his next victim."
Arthur blinked, surprised the boy could say something so casually. Little did he know how much Matthias had thought about this barely avoided fate; that Marshall had swapped Matthias's destiny for his own without either of them realizing it. It did not give him nightmares, but it still occasionally kept him up at night ruminating on it.
"Alright. Well, that's a new tidbit we can keep in mind going forward. …Hey, this isn't all you called me out here to talk about though, right? You could have told me this stuff over a call."
"Oh, no. I called you here so I could get something to eat. I had a taste for the brownies this cafe makes. I would've just told you all this stuff over a call otherwise."
Arthur made an irked expression and was severely fighting the urge to stand up from the table and go straight home.
"There is one more thing I have to share though," the boy added. "It's a more 'out there theory' than the first one though. I'm pretty sure… the Rockies Ripper is affiliated with at least one Syndicate."
Arthur nearly coughed up the coffee he was sipping. That certainly was an 'out there theory.' Almost too much so even for this type of investigation.
Matthias leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You see, I noticed something interesting when I was going over the case files. Several of the Ripper's murders happened to coincide with other deaths in the same or neighboring cities."
"But how do you know it's not just a coincidence?"
"The idea first occurred to me from a story I read from a conspiracy theorist on Trident."
Arthur furrowed his brow. "You're getting leads from schizos on social media? Are you serious, kid?"
Matthias gave a dismissive gesture. "It's just a hobby of mine. It's interesting to see what crackpot theories these types of guys will brainstorm up. Occasionally, one of the crazies will even present a non-so-crazy idea. That was the case with this one guy on Trident with barely any followers who posts constantly about the 'shady underbelly' of his hometown of Salt Lake City. According to him, Syndicate activity runs deep in Salt Lake City, but nobody there is aware of it. There's this one story in particular about this businesswoman who went up in smoke along with her business in a gas leak explosion. This guy claims that this explosion wasn't an accident, and that this woman was actually assassinated because of her dirty dealings with some Syndicate members who she owed a lot of money to."
"Is there any truth to it, or was the guy just rambling."
"I did a little digging myself. Turns out she had an ex-boyfriend who was arrested for Syndicate-related activities. Ronnie Wang was killed less than 48 hours after the explosion."
"Alright. That doesn't rule out it being a coincidence."
"No. But how about how, less than 30 hours before Peter Patel was reported missing, Boulder, Colorado's District Attorney, who had been building up a reputation for going hard against organized crime, and who was known for being an optimistic and devout Christian man, suddenly committed suicide?"
"Uh, well…"
"Or, how about when a Rogue bounty hunter — who had built up a reputation for dealing with Syndicate-affiliated Rogues — ended up Cerebral Snapping out of nowhere and later had the plug pulled on him in a local hospital? All this within 24 hours of Billy O'Neil's death? I have more coincidental stories like this for several other Ripper victims. They all follow a similar, albeit hard to notice, pattern."
Arthur hummed. He didn't like humoring conspiracy theories, but there comes a point where coincidences cease to be simple coincidences.
"Okay, assuming this isn't all just a case of presuming causation equaling correlation, the Ripper being Syndicate-affiliated would explain how he's been able to evade getting caught for so long. He'd have all types of resources and connections that could help him stay under the radar. Hell, these could just be contract killings for a run-of-the-mill hitman. It's an interesting theory. Don't know where we could go with it though."
"Well, isn't ARES focusing more on Syndicate activity now that most of the worst of the gangs have been dealt with?" Matthias asked.
"Yeah. So?"
"So… Just go to Mr. Holloway and tell him what I told you, and get him to share what he and the others have on Denver's Syndicate members. You're still a Hoplite at Denver Citadel at the end of the day, so there ought to be no problem with you requesting access to those types of files."
Arthur considered this for a moment. "…Alright. Fine. The OS probably won't say no so long as I make it clear I'm not trying to muscle in on the assignment. Hopefully, this all leads to something."
Matthias nodded as he began assembling his things inside of his backpack. "If there's even a chance that the Ripper is connected to the Syndicates, we need to follow up on it."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Arthur said as he gathered his half of the material on the table. "Gotta 'keep digging down the rabbit hole' and all that."
"Good to see your memory's improving, McBride. I might make a halfway decent detective out of you yet," Matthias said, as he got up from the table.
The Hoplite snorted as the boy started ahead for the cafe's door.
As Matthias approached the exit, checking something on his phone, he didn't notice a woman with a small boxed cheesecake walking towards the same door, her attention equally compromised a lively phone conversation she was having. They collided, and the woman's boxed cheesecake slice slipped from her grasp.
Reflexively, Matthias used his telekinesis to catch the dessert a mere inch before it hit the floor. Then, with a subtle gesture, he levitated the cheesecake back up to the woman's eye level.
"Oh my gosh, thank you so much!" the woman exclaimed, her voice bubbly and cheerful.
She grabbed the floating box, her eyes full of gratitude. Before Matthias could respond, the woman leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Both Matthias and Arthur, who had been watching from the table, were taken by surprise. The boy was left holding his hand at his cheek where he had just been smooched.
The woman waved goodbye as she made her way out of the cafe, resuming her phone conversation.
"Dorothy, I know you didn't go out to get sweets again..." an exasperated voice said over the phone.
"Come on, Craig. It's just a little cheesecake! It's not the end of the world," she said, her voice trailing off as she left.
Matthias stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He genuinely could not recall the last time anyone had ever made him blush, even if for a brief moment. He glanced back. After seeing Arthur poorly conceal how much he was snickering, Matthias sighed, readjusted his backpack's strap, and continued out of the cafe.