An aged hand held the knife in an expert grip, its edge almost sharp enough to cut the air he moved it through.
With the other hand, he carefully picked up a head of broccoli, and set it on the wooden cutting board. With impressive yet decisive speed, he sliced the stalk clean of all its juicy green florets, before dicing up the stalk itself. Setting aside the small pile of shrubbery, he moved on to a pair of skinned carrots. He cut through both at once just as quickly, producing pieces of perfect thickness. Finally came the green onions, releasing a morsel of their freshness as he chopped them into fine rings.
Next to the cutting board on the counter was a sizzling stovetop with a wok on it. Inside it, diced chicken thighs glistened with flavor, caressing the entire kitchen with their savory aroma as they cooked.
He poured the bowl of cut vegetables into the wok, giving them a chance to sauté. Then he poured in the final touch, a caramel-brown sauce that embraced the dish in a perfect fusion of sweet and savory.
After a few minutes of simmering on low heat, the stir fry was ready. The cook smacked his lips in eager anticipation as he poured a ladleful into a bowl.
The cook was a middle-aged Japanese man, with a white blindfold tied around his eyes, sporting a red cross symbol across the middle. Despite this, he could point out any object in his apartment if you asked him to, and probably quicker than if his eyes were uncovered.
He grabbed his bowl and chopsticks & carefully walked to the small table aside from the kitchen. In one of the two seats, Nathan was already seated. He was shirtless, with bandages wrapped across his chest & head, with red splotches seeping through.
The old man sat down his bowl & looked up to Nathan in pride.
“You outdid yourself again, Rai.” Nathan said loudly, before narrowing his eyes. “Looks like you made enough for two there.” he said, trying to sound unassuming. He spoke with such a volume that you’d think he was standing on the side of the highway.
“Yeah, for right now and lunch tomorrow!.” Rai affirmed, his voice even louder, with a slight slur to all of his words. He took his first bite & laughed. “Man, this is good!”
“Smells pretty good too. Y’know, if you’d like some feedback on your recipe, I’d be happy to–”
“Eh?” Rai got even louder. “What are you talking about? You’ve got dinner right in front of you!”
Nathan looked down at his meal Rai had so graciously provided. Instant mac n’ cheese in a plastic microwave container, with about as much real cheese as a vegan pizza. With a major case of plate envy, he sighed & took another bite. “Hey, Rai?” he asked.
Rai’s face was low as he shoveled stir fry into his mouth, & he carried on as if Nathan hadn’t said anything at all. Nathan gently shook the table, causing Rai to look back up at him. “What?” he barked.
“When did you say my eardrums will be healed, again?” Nathan asked. “I can’t pull this deaf thing off as well as you can.”
Reading Nathan’s lips as he always did, Rai laughed. “Damn right! Give it a few days! And cheer up, most people can’t recover from destroyed eardrums!” Turning away to eat some more, he added, “But you can always buzz off before then if you’re feeling nice.”
“Always with the sass.” Nathan huffed. After a moment of silence, he realized Rai hadn’t seen him say that. Nathan waited for him to look back up.
“Thanks for patching me up, by the way.” Nathan said. “I’ve gotta get back out there, I’m close to something big.”
“You can thank me by never coming this way again.” Rai said plainly, no trace of hostility in his voice. He raised a chopstick to point at Nathan. “This war of yours, I want no part of it! I told you that, too!”
“I don’t have anyone else to come to in a bind. And I don’t know of any other doctors.” Nathan said, softening his tone. “I’ll get outta your hair, just gimme a few hours for these ribs to set back in. But before I do, I have to ask: how exactly does that blindfold help you see? It’s been eatin’ at me.”
Rai chuckled, setting aside his picked-clean bowl and chopsticks. As he leaned back in his chair, he let out a deep exhale of satisfaction. “I can’t turn my Shadow on and off like you can. A situation that doesn’t pair very well with X-ray vision. So I stuck some lead lining in this rag, and now I got a nice filter for it; I can see the outside of people, not just the inside, with this blindfold. Still no colors, though!”
Nathan looked quizzical. “Shadows make no sense. X-ray vision isn’t really something I associate with ghosts.”
“Every Shadow is different! Yours is just a little more, eh, authentic. From what I gather about your outings, I can see why 8-Ball wanted one like the Martyr!”
Nathan looked triumphant. “Is that a compli– who’s that?”
Rai was surprised Nathan didn’t know. “Your Shadow! You never wondered what its name was? It’ll put the answer in your thoughts.” Casually, he called up his own Shadow, which assumed his rigid posture & crossed arms. Bound in tattered black wrappings with fur peeking through, at first glance it looked like a traditional ninja. However, there were no features on its face besides two large furry bat-like ears extending from where its eyes should’ve been.
“This is the Secret!” Rai said, as if he was introducing some random guy instead of an otherworldly entity. “I can see it too, funnily enough!”
Nathan took in the sight & nodded in approval. He had long since decided to suspend his surprise towards all things paranormal, and tried not to think about how he himself had a ghost following him everywhere. “It’s probably a good thing no one else can see these things.” he mused aloud. “The public would go crazy if they learned Shadows are real.”
“Hah! Wait till they hear that Shadows are glorified emotional parasites!” Rai smiled. “They’re not all bad, though! Mine has its tricks, but yours is intriguing! Intervertebral production of Ectoplasm shouldn’t even be possible! That substance isn’t of this reality!”
“That’s the stuff Shadows themselves are made of, right?” Nathan rubbed his back. “And the stuff my spine makes, although I still don’t know the limits. Man, you should’ve seen me in action last night, it was embarrassing.” Nathan said, laughing to himself.
Rai frowned as he scanned Nathan’s internals. “You joke, but your injuries are serious!” he chided. “Four broken ribs, a cracked skull, and your eardrums were almost completely torn apart!” He leaned in close to speak in a low, serious tone. “Is this really how you want to find your peace?”
Nathan frowned too. “I’m confused. I thought you saw what I went through at that asylum. How 8-Ball and his vermin treated all of us there.” he spoke bitterly, not caring how rude it came across. “I can’t live a normal life knowing they’re still out there, unpunished for what they did to me. They need to be wiped from this earth, at the very least.”
“Doesn’t sound like peace.” Rai leaned back again, having answered his own question. “Are you really willing to sacrifice your conscience, when they’ve already taken so much?”
Nathan stared at him for a moment. “I’ll leave you alone now. Thanks again for, uh–” he glanced down at the empty mac n’ cheese tray, “that.” He stood up, wincing as he did so, and grabbed his hoodie & coat from beside the window.
“Look for the small things, Nathan.” Rai said with a smile. “Find peace in the small things; that’s what I do. Like a nice, home-cooked chicken stir fry.”
Halfway out the window & onto the fire escape, Nathan looked back to Rai, hood up. “Maybe one day.” he said quietly, before jumping out into the night.
—
“Grant. Perry. My office, please.” Captain Campbell gestured discreetly, eyes shifting around the hubbub of the 8th precinct.
Detectives Grant & Perry looked at each other in a brief moment of alarm.
“It’s probably nothing.” Grant diffused quickly, rising quickly from his desk. “Just, uh, bring your best head to the game.”
Perry looked a little confused, but followed Grant’s lead to the captain’s office. “This is probably because you don’t do any work.” she teased.
Graham clicked his tongue as he held the door open for her, before following her inside.
“Detectives, I’d like to hear any and all information on this serial killer case I assigned you.” the captain said matter-of-factly, hands clasped on her desk.
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Perry blinked. “Serial killer?” she quickly realized what she meant, although she had never thought of their red-eyed perp through that lens; but now she could see the sense in it. “Oh, of course. Well, Detective Graham actually saw–”
“I saw a trend in the suspect’s killings.” Graham wasted no time in cutting her off, shooting her a side-eyed glance. “They are all perpetrators of violent crimes, and when the victims are still on scene they are left unharmed. Looks like a vigilante, not a serial killer.”
Campbell nodded. “Have you caught him in action yet?”
“Not yet.” Graham answered quickly, before the confused Perry could open her mouth. “Right now, we’re trying to find out a motive and a means. He sure as hell ain’t your average Joe–”
“Good work Detectives.” Campbell said resolutely. “But how and why he does what he does isn’t your priority. I want something–anything that can ID him. Hell, arrest the bastard if you can. The longer he stays on the streets, the more we have to worry about mass hysteria breaking out. Details can come later.”
Graham’s eyes twitched. “Yes ma’am. We’ll keep you posted.”
“Wait–” Perry attempted, but the conversation was already over.
“Thank you, Detectives.” Campbell said, waving away with her hand. “That’s all.”
Perry & Graham turned & left, both holding their emotions at the tip of their tongues.
As soon as the office door shut behind them, they both turned to each other exasperated.
“What the hell were you doing?”
“What the hell were you doing?”
Graham reeled back & sighed to regain his composure, allowing Perry to speak first.
“You totally shut me down in there.” she said, slightly dejected. “You came face-to-face with the Bloodhound. That’s critical information the captain should know about.”
“Is that what we’re calling him now?” Graham said in amusement. As they returned to their desks, he leaned in close to whisper, “You have to be careful with what you disclose. Even to the captain. This place isn’t as safe as you think.”
“I think you’re a paranoid old man.” Perry said indignantly. “She wants to bag this guy as much as we do.”
“Yeah, but it could be for totally different reasons.” Graham folded his arms with pride. “I may be paranoid, but that’s why I’ve lived to be old. We have to keep this case close to our chest. If you don’t agree, then at least trust me until you do.”
Perry sighed. “We can talk about this later. Let’s check out that construction site we got a call for.” She threw on her coat & grabbed her car keys, already heading out without Graham’s input.
“Let’s stop at Greasy Granny’s first.” Graham called after her, grabbing his piping hot cup of coffee. “Their breakfast menu closes in 30 minutes.”
—
The Messina Rose lay empty tonight. The owner had decided to close early that day, for personal reasons. There wasn’t even any staff to polish the shiny surfaces or sweep the shiny floor; he had specifically requested to be left alone.
A lone overhead light shone over him in the back corner, as he played a game of billiards by himself. His deep purple suit coat sat neatly folded on one side of the pool table. His pink tie hung loose over his even deeper purple vest, his off-white undershirt rolled up at the elbows. His forearms were impressively defined, thrusting the cue stick with deliberate power.
Suddenly, the casino doors flung open. A man in a conspicuous desperado costume stormed through, his pink frilled boots echoing across the barren room. His pink fur coat clung to his shoulders desperately amidst the anger of his stride.
“Void, how wonderful.” 8-Ball said, leaned over the pool table lining up a shot. After taking it and sinking three balls in one stroke, he went about setting up another game. “Care to join me?”
“Sir, how could I possibly have time for that right now?” Void said angrily. “We are under direct threat–a bitter, sour threat. Your bodyguard, Mr. LeMay…”
“I am aware.” 8-Ball said, chalking his cue stick, back still turned to Void. “And I mourn. The game helps me refocus. Focus will be crucial in crushing this challenge.”
Void came to the pool table and slammed his palms down on the sides. “We need to mobilize every asset and go after this red-eyed bully full force. This outrage can’t stand.”
8-Ball set aside the chalk & leaned on his cue stick, looking directly at Void with his ivory mask. “Allow me to share my understanding of the world, as I see it. You see, followers can be manufactured, friends can be bought, yet family is granted. And that is because there is no stronger thing, nothing more wonderful, than family.”
“I’m missing your point.” Void grumbled, having calmed down somewhat.
“Malik had just become family before he was taken from us.” 8-Ball said, biting his lip. “An attack on a brother is an attack on us all, so I understand your rage. But I want to remind you of what this family is built on.”
“Trust. You trust us Legionaries with your life.” Void answered, passion rising in his tone. “And I trust you with mine.”
8-Ball smiled. “Sharp as ever, Diego. I implore you to trust in our family to withstand any threat and come to each other’s aid.”
He grabbed the cue ball off the pool table, displaying it in his palm. It was smudged with constant use, dirtier than it should’ve been. “Allow me to visualize the situation. This here is the red-eyed enemy attacking our business.”
He set the cue ball at the middle of the table, and set the other balls in a triangle in front of it. After finding the perfect angle, he fired his stick in a blur. The cue ball shot into the triangle, sending the balls into every corner of the table. However, there were still plenty of them surrounding the black eight-ball at the very back. The striped purple 1, which had sat at the front of the triangle, careened off into the middle pocket.
“That was the break shot.” 8-Ball said, returning to his upright posture. “In the hands of a skilled player, the course of the entire game can be decided from this first strike.”
“I remember you teaching me this.” Void smiled. “But I’m not very sweet at this game.”
“Notice how that first ball was pocketed. That was poor Malik.” 8-Ball said, clenching his teeth discreetly. “Notice the cue ball’s position now.”
“If these other balls are the Legionaries, then it’s completely cornered.” Void observed.
8-Ball nodded. “As you can see, he is not a skilled player. Yes, this man has embarked on quite the climb, one I don’t think he knows the full risks of. Soon, he will face several cliffs far above his ability.”
“And plummet to his death.” Void said, smacking his lips. “How savory.”
“Malik’s sacrifice to our business will never go forgotten. Let his death drive our vindication.”
“How can I assist, sir?” Void backed out with a bow.
“Tighten your grip on your operations. Let our tributaries know we do not falter in the face of adversity. Should the red-eyed one bring his hatred to you, I trust you can dispose of him. Otherwise, let this ugly flash in the pan starve itself out.”
8-Ball had never once asked himself the question, where the Bloodhound came from, because he already had an answer he believed in. He had decided to indulge his suspicion, that his magnum opus lived on.
—
“We’re missing something.” Graham decided, gazing up at the block of interlocking metal beams rising above him.
Next to him, Perry was furiously jotting down notes on the wrecked black sports car sitting conspicuously in the middle of the construction site.
“The body that was found here was matched to a known gang leader.” Perry recalled, examining every nook and cranny of the scene. “The coroner said he suffered serious head trauma, but it was extreme ear damage that did him in.”
“That’s not the Bloodhound’s MO.” Graham noted. “My guess is that along with his bodyguards, the gang leader was engaged in combat with the Bloodhound, before someone else intervened.”
“That would make sense. Over there is a pretty messy splatter of blood and…other stuff, suggesting someone fell to their death. But there’s no body to match it.”
“Meaning a cleanup crew got here before us. Notice how these guys were left behind— the body they removed must’ve been particularly valuable.”
“So Bloodhound had a fight with someone important. Looks like he’s moving up in the world.”
“Let me make sure.” Graham walked to a construction lift, using it to raise himself a couple stories up the structure.
He noticed a considerable dent on the side of one metal beam, one that lined up pretty well with a smaller blood splatter not too far from the larger, deadly one.
“Why would the fight go all the way up here…” he muttered to himself. “Unless one of them went airborne. Looks like someone hit this beam and fell, but judging by the amount of blood on the ground they lived.”
Graham had several conclusions churning in his brain as he lowered himself back down to the ground.
“Well?” Perry asked. “By the way, I caught you calling him the Bloodhound earlier. You really are all show.”
Graham snorted. “You’ve been rotting my brain, is all. But all show is one thing our perp isn’t. He took some damage here that no normal human being could walk away from.”
“So he really is a ghost.”
“A ghost who bleeds? C’mon. I think he’s a real threat to 8-Ball’s operations. And I think 8-Ball has finally realized that too.”
“From what I’ve heard about this 8-Ball, it wouldn’t surprise me if his no-regulations experiments have backfired.”
Graham nodded. “From the rumors I’ve heard, he’s got quite the freak show on his beck and call. Odds are, the more damage this Bloodhound does, the more light will get shined on the shadiest parts of 8-Ball’s empire.”
“You think he’s doing a good thing, then?” Perry asked warily, surprised at Graham’s shift in attitude. “He’s clearly demented.”
Graham shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never met the guy. Well, you know what I mean. But I can’t lie, part of me wants to see him win. Lesser of two evils, and all that.”
—
The pool game 8-Ball had used to illustrate his point was still unfinished by the time he and Void left. There were eight other balls on the green felt table; positioned tightly next to the eight-ball on the back wall was the solid blue 7 and the striped green 3.
The white cue ball was opposed on every front. Although, that only meant there were multiple opportunities for attack, it only needed to be pointed in the right direction. After all, the aim of the game is to sink every single ball on the table, and this cue ball plays for keeps.