Volume 2: Prophase

Issue 7: Ill Winds

Jannette Adrian Churchwell

By Nova

We landed on the roof of a grayish brick of a building; the SFPD headquarters. Once upon a time—maybe before I was born—the building was covered in windows, but that time had long since passed. In place of windows were armor plates, reinforcing the superstructure of the building from potential supervillain attacks. It gave the structure an oppressive, ominous vibe as it rose out of the cityscape.

Still, the rooftop offered a good view of the city, and the helipad was a good—if admittedly a little cliché—place for police rendezvous. The building was the tallest in the district and close to the bay, which granted the rooftop a degree of privacy that few places in the city had. Ripple gazed down at the gardens nearby and the roofs of the luxury apartments built around the headquarters; the wealthy investors perhaps drawn by a false sense of security the police presence offered. She was silent, lost in thought. We were, admittedly, a little slow to arrive. I had made sure to take a shower before getting here, and Ramirez kept us waiting for another five minutes.

Ripple leaned against her spear, her professional demeanor slipping slightly as a slight frown crossed her face. Her helmet covered her eyes, but I was beginning to tell that she was growing bored. She was, I had to admit, a bit more readable than Seraph was…

I shook my head. Seraph was the last person I wanted to think about right now. We’d been here too many times together in the past… No reason to dig up those memories. I had a job to do.

Just when I opened my mouth to comment on the situation, the door was thrown open. Ramirez strode out, putting his arms through his coat, which blew widely in the wind. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, looking more tired than usual. “But we made a breakthrough.”

“So we’ve heard,” Ripple said, taking a few, confident, steps towards him. Her demeanor had changed slightly. Her shoulders were held higher, her back straighter, her chin pointed slightly up. She looked bigger, a little more imposing, and she almost seemed to tower over Ramirez, despite being around the same height.

If Ramirez noticed this, he didn’t show it. “Glad you both could make it, ‘specially since it was Stitch who blew this thing wide open.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise. “W-what do you mean?” I stuttered.

“The perps you brought in, those Los Reales gangsters, weren’t talking,” Ramirez said. “Weren’t talking, that is, until news broke about that van you stopped this morning.”

“How’d they hear about it?” Ripple asked.

“Probably through the news, it was the big story of the morning, but that’s probably not what got those three talking. Just a few hours after you stopped the van, they got a letter telling them to start talking,” Ramirez said with a sly grin. “A bit old school, I know, but hey, one of the quickest ways to get in touch with someone in jail.”

“A letter?” Ripple asked, surprised. “From who?”

“Tío Jorge is all the letter said.” Ramirez shrugged. “We guess it’s one of their villains, or maybe one of the block bosses, obviously a code or something.”

“What did the letter say?”

“Not much, just a few comments about the weather and well-wishes, nothing that our staff thought was out of the ordinary.” He stopped for a second and pulled out a cigarette, turning his back against the wind so he could light it. “Like I said, must have been code or something.” He took a few puffs and looked out over the city thoughtfully.

“Still though, you’re telling us that these Los Reales gangsters started talking after days of silence?”

“Not just talking, squealing,” Ramirez said. “They confessed to getting in a shootout with the First Way, looting the bodies, everything the DA needs to throw the book at them.”

“That’s great, but is that the breakthrough? Based on what I’ve heard, you guys already had enough evidence to convict.”

“Yeah…” I interjected. “I remember a pretty bloody scene when I arrived.”

“Also, you got shot at,” Ripple said. “‘Assault on a hero’ might not land most people serious jail time these days, but it’s not nothing.”

“That too…”

“You’re both right, we didn’t need their confessions, which is why I think they made them,” Ramirez said, drawing deeply from his cigarette. “We had nothing to gain from getting them, they knew that.”

“So why confess?” Ripple said.

“I think they wanted to get our attention, or maybe show they were being honest.”

“A peace offering?”

“Maybe, but not quite as direct.” Ramirez took a few steps towards the edge of the building and cast his gaze toward downtown, the skyscrapers glittering orange and pink in the late afternoon sun. “Everyone hates the First Way, doesn’t matter who you are. Yakuza, Dragon’s Teeth, Los Reales… All of ‘em want the First Way out of the city.”

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“Obviously, what’s your point?” Ripple asked.

“Working with the cops is not a good look for a gang, even when it comes to the First Way.”

“Alright then, what is it that Los Reales wants from us? Why are they trying to show honesty here?”

“Well that’s the thing, the only lie these guys gave during their confessions was that the First Way were smuggling in ‘armas’—weapons,’” Ramirez said. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, that was, not at all, what it looked like when I came across them in the street a couple of nights ago. Weapons weren’t usually small enough to hide in pockets…

“Hmmmm.” Ripple frowned. “Doesn’t fit with the evidence?”

Ramirez shook his head. “Other than the guns on their persons—all of which were unlicensed, obviously—and a few blades, the First Way were not carrying anything you could call a ‘weapon.’”

“That matches what I saw…” I said, trailing off.

Ramirez nodded. “No boxes or… duffel bags or anything like that. The First Way were on bikes, like, bicycles not motorcycles, when they got jumped.”

Ripple tilted her head. “Bicycles? Seriously?”

“It’s what the Los Reales guys and forensics says.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to tell ya, but the only First Way perp we have in custody ain’t talking.”

I perked up at this, almost embarrassed at myself that I had forgotten about the First Way guy I saved… at the cost of one of the Los Reales gangsters getting away. “W-what about the missing Los Reales guy? The one who…”

Ramirez nodded. “Not much luck on him, though we think he found whatever Los Reales was looking for, cause there wasn’t anything suspicious in any of the pockets of the victims.”

“But… there’s no way there were any ‘weapons’ in their pockets anyways.”

“Yeah,” Ramirez admitted, suddenly looking a little grimmer.

“What do you think? Drugs? Though that’s a lot of trouble to go through for, what, a few ounces of drugs at most?” Ripple said.

“No, drugs are too obvious of an answer and less controversial than weapons.” He shot Ripple a stern look. “They wouldn’t have lied if that was the case.”

Ripple sighed. “Come on, Ramirez, what else could it be?”

“Drugs don’t make sense,” I said suddenly. “What if they’re being honest?”

Ramirez locked eyes with me. “Do you remember what you said when we were first talking about the shooting? What you thought it might be about?”

“Drugs, counterfeits, powerchems…” I squeaked, the realization hitting me.

Ripple took a step towards Ramirez. “You should have opened with that.”

The inspector raised a hand. “Hey, it’s not the only conclusion here. It could also be information, or even a flash drive of bank keys.” He took another puff from his cigarette from the other hand. “And they also could be bullshitting us too. Maybe it really is drugs, and they don’t want to admit that they murdered three people for an ounce of cocaine. This whole thing could be an attempt to look good before court.”

“An interesting idea that you clearly don’t believe,” Ripple said. “The theater is nice, Ramirez, but we do have a job to do.”

“I do too, but I think you missed my point.” He took a puff from his cigarette while staring Ripple down. “So what if it really is super-tech or powerchems or something like that that the First Way is smuggling into the city. The situation is so bad that, apparently, Los Reales has instructed three of their own men to confess to murder, in order to get our attention.”

“A-and the van!” I said, suddenly. “Maybe the van showed that they were doing something big?”

Ramirez nodded. “Makes sense. We didn’t find much of anything in the van you took down, but we have no idea what the other one was carrying…”

“More powerchems?” Ripple asked.

“Or the stuff to make them,” Ramirez grimaced.

“But that doesn’t fit the First Way’s MO, they’re not about that,” Ripple said. I had to admit, she was right. It felt off. The First Way were… Well, crazy darwinists was the best way to describe them. They believed that strength was something you were born with, not something you could get through a bottle.

“A fair point,” Ramirez admitted. “It’s a good thing that extremists always adhere to the letter of their ideology.” He took a puff from his cigarette. “Sure would be a shame if people would compromise their beliefs to gain the upper hand.”

We stood in silence for a few moments. “Jesus…” Ripple finally said. “Do we have… anything suggesting that this… powerchem thing is what’s going on?”

“No, but I think we have a ‘worst case scenario’ now,” Ramirez said. He took a deep drag from his cigarette. “But it explains why they’re smuggling stuff into the city. It was bugging me. The First Way tries to keep out of the city except for smash-and-grab kinda stuff.”

“But if they’re making powerchems…”

“Then everything starts to make sense. They aren’t hanging around the city for a heist, an attack, or anything like that… They’re building an army.”

“Jesus,” Ripple said again. She began pacing the edge of the helipad. “We need to stop this, tell everyone, gather a patrol force to scour the city.”

“Do w-we have time?” I asked. “How do we know they’re still in the city, why come here anyways?”

“Powerchems are notoriously finicky and don’t… keep very well,” Ramirez said. “I don’t know the science, but depending on the formula they need to be kept at exact temperatures, ranging from below zero to above boiling. If you don’t do that, they’ll kill whoever takes ‘em.” He took another puff from his cigarette. “This makes ‘em hard to transport without getting spotted by people looking for that sort of thing, refrigeration or heater units take up a lot of space and CHP cars can scan for them these days.”

“But in a city… refrigerators and heaters are everywhere,” I said.

“Exactly. If they want to hide and distribute powerchems, there’s no better place than in the middle of San Francisco. Sounds weird, I know, but I bet unpowered First Way followers have been filtering into the city for weeks, just waiting for their chance at superpowers.”

“And, unlike a small town which might have reported an uptick in weird visitors, there could be an army waiting in hotels across the city and we’d never know,” Ripple said.

“So… what do we even do?” I asked. “If they’re building an army, we need to stop it, r-right now!”

Ramirez nodded. “I need you two to scour the city, starting now. Search every nook and cranny and leave no stone unturned.”

Ripple nodded. “I agree, but what’re you going to do?”

“I’ll be trying to put together a damage-control unit in case you guys do stumble across an army,” Ramirez said. “But first I’ll reach out to Starlight, the Titans… anyone who can help right now, including any indies like you guys.”

I turned back toward the cityscape and looked over it. It was beautiful in the late afternoon sun… but I couldn’t call it inviting, even on the best of days. A sharp gust of wind, smelling of the sea and smog, cut into my face. I looked toward Mission… A thousand buildings, any one of them hiding something…

“Let’s go,” Ripple said.