◆Roque (Somehow Still Continued)◆
Cheers erupted outside in the gambling den—hesitant at first, but they came. It was even more deafening than the Fiendish arena had been given the audience’s proximity. As soon as the cage door opened, Tusmon bolted back to the waiting room, wanting to escape the attention as quickly as possible.
The detective quickly received his belongings from his locker and slipped out the door, hoping there wouldn’t be an expectant crowd. But the masses had already moved on, watching the next fight that had just started. Roque, however, popped up next to the man as soon as he stepped outside, and gave him a congratulatory handshake that Tusmon couldn’t refuse. As soon as their hands touched, though, the world shifted around them once again.
“Congratulations on your victory,” The Swindler spoke softly now that there wasn’t room filled with loud betters to drown him out.
“Uhh, thanks,” the detective glanced around, trying to deduce just exactly where he’d been taken. It was the middle of a suburban street, but all the houses looked slightly rundown and recently abandoned. The town didn’t quite compare to places that had been deserted for decades since the Drazah war, rather more of a recent tragedy.
Lawns were overgrown, windows were broken, cars had been left and had slightly begun to rust. Just what had caused their sudden evacuation? It likely wasn’t monsters, since everything would be more destroyed. A plague of some kind perhaps? Tusmon’s eye activated its evidence scanner, and suddenly his vision was riddled with all sorts of wrong-doings, too much for him to process.
“I just sent you your share of your winnings,” Roque interrupted the man’s prying, staring at his phone like nothing was wrong around him.
While the detective would have outright refused any of the dirty money involved in that illegal gambling den, he couldn’t deny his curiosity. And the man pulled out his own phone to see the amount, almost dropping it when he saw the number.
“Not bad for a quick little spar, right?” Roque snickered. “Almost everyone bet against you, and they bet big. So even though you only get a small percentage, you won the jackpot. That should be enough to run your crime division until you die and well beyond. Hell, maybe even get a second assistant who isn’t a fire hazard to your office. Think of all the good you can do with that money, and it only took a small harmless crime to obtain it.”
Tusmon stared at the number more, practically hypnotized by it. Roque wasn’t wrong about how much of a help it’d be. They were currently financially secure, but with that, they’d be thriving and never have to beg for funds again. Was it really right to accept it, though? Or would it even be right to refuse since that would be putting the money back in the hands of criminals.
Roque definitively shattered the detective’s train of thought when he picked up a lawn gremlin and literally shattered a front window of the nearest house. The man then casually strolled over and climbed through the still-sharp entry-point, leaving a ‘Breaking and Entering’ card on the ground behind him.
Of course, Tusmon had to put the internal dilemma on hold, refusing to let the criminal give him the slip. But he chose a different route inside. “Err, the front door was open…” the detective sighed as he stepped into the foyer. Just like the street, it looked like the house had been abandoned in a hurry.
And The Investigator was hit in the face with a pungent smell—an oddly familiar smell that he couldn’t quite place. Was it rotting garbage? Hopefully it wasn’t a body decomposing. Mildew perhaps? It was starting to bother him, so the man checked with his eye, but there was no evidence of any sort of crime.
“Yes, I just wanted to break and enter, obviously,” Roque explained why he hadn’t even tried for the easy way in. “Just hold tight for a minute, I’m going to find something to steal.” Roque skittered away like a rat, digging through every drawer and cupboard, trying to find something that piqued his interest.
Tusmon followed him around, room to room, but didn’t even try and stop the man. Instead, he continued to let his eyes roam, trying to get a clearer image of what had happened. Pictures were still on the wall, showing a loving family. Things weren’t in too much disarray, so it’s not like the people had left urgently, and in the bedrooms there was evidence of bags being packed. It was like everyone packed up and left for a trip but never returned. And wherever the two Fiends now walked, the smell persisted.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
They did a full lap of the house, Roque never seeming to find anything that really caught his attention. So he finally stopped at the office and dug through the desk. “I’m going to steal this fountain pen, since I didn’t actually get any earlier. It’s even engraved, so someone’s memory will live on.”
“Now then, Detective Tusmon, thank you for putting up with my musings,” The Swindler almost sounded sincere. “With this, we’ll end the day.” Roque held up one final crime card: Arson. Before Tusmon could react, Roque had flicked on a lighter and ignited the card. He then let it flutter gracefully to the floor.
It was at that moment that The Investigator realized it was gas he’d been smelling—not freshly poured. No it had been soaking the room for quite a while, the crime clearly premeditated. Everything around them erupted into a blaze, and the two men bolted out of the house. Then they stood there watching as it continued to burn.
“A mesmerizing sight,” Roque mentioned after a few silent moments. The light from the fire twinkled into their eyes, enhanced by the sky dimming into night. “If you’re wondering, this was all Humanity’s doing.”
“This neighborhood was harboring Lessers on the run, so after they were caught, Humanity paraded both the victims and their helpers down the streets, torturing them in front of everyone’s eyes until they were massacred right at the end of the road.”
“They all fled after that, never turning back. Humanity didn’t return, but it didn’t matter to everyone living here. They couldn’t unsee what had happened. Even now with that group destroyed thanks to the hands of you and our redheaded friend, the damage is done, and the land is cursed in their eyes.”
“So, I bought it all: every home and acre. Not only that, we provided the people who lived here with one of our newly built communities, where they could be together again, and be safe. And that’s what we’ll do here too—tear it all down and start from scratch. Because that’s what this world needs: a fresh start.”
“And if you’re wondering how this is still a crime, even though I own the property, it’s still illegal for me to burn it down without a permit. The entire place is scheduled to be demolished soon, but this bit of arson is still quite illegal. I’d say I could put in an insurance claim to commit fraud there too, but that wouldn’t be worth the hassle for the money I’d’ve gotten back. And have you ever dealt with insurance companies—massive pricks—I need to buy more of those too.”
Tusmon ignored that last bit and spoke suddenly, “I understand and appreciate the sentiment, Roque, but can I ask you a serious question?” His voice was sincere as he inquired, “Have you ever thought that you own too much? All these neighborhoods, all these businesses, even the bank from before that you didn’t know you owned.”
“When does it end? You’re the richest man in the world, never have to work another day in your life. But from the moment I’ve heard your name, it’s been nothing but up up up. Takeovers, land grabs, schemes and manipulation. What’s your endgame for doing all this? It’s like you’re building your own empire, but I doubt you want to rule. So what’s the point?”
“The point…” Roque had to stop for a second, genuinely trying to figure out how best to word it. “It’s because this is the only way I understand how to help people. I know what it means to be poor, to feel helpless—no roof over your head and no one coming to help. I’ve suffered the worst indignities, and I don’t want anyone else to suffer like that again.”
“But I’m not like the others. I don’t want to spend my days running around, saving people one at a time, looking at their adoring faces. That’s just not me, it’s not what gives me motivation. I need to see tangible change. Now I could spend my day rotting away with politics, arguing for rights and reasons that will never cut through greed.”
“With my wealth, though, I can circumvent it all. To actually reform businesses, it’s easiest for me just to own them. To help the poor with housing woes and financial burdens, rather than maintain their accounting or preach outdated saving ideology, it’s better to just build new homes that I can rent to them for cheap. To end world hunger, I’ll just buy the manufacturers and grocery stores to slash prices.”
“That’s my reason. Sounds very altruistic, doesn’t it, because it is. But… would it be so bad to get a little bit of respect and thanks in return? So I’ll keep buying the world until I can own enough of it that one day they might change the name in my honor. I mean c’mon, Rathe to Roque, that’s just three letters. Is that too much to ask? That’s my ultimate dream.”
“I see, and I feel like I’ve misunderstood you, Personson,” Tusmon couldn’t help but feel a little swept up in the sentiment. “You’re a crazy bastard, but you’ve only got good intentions. But I won’t tell anyone, because I know you’d sue me for it.”
“Now I’d like to ask you one more question. Why are you touching my ass?!”
“Ahaha, just one more crime to end the day!”