Snow fell from the cloudy skies above and coated the city in a fresh canvas. The hopes of most were that the new snowy day would act as a blank slate for opportunity. The week’s end beckons for rebuilding. For some of the more spiteful denizens, it became another chance for feuds to continue. And for the very unlucky few, old wounds from the past would tear again. Some unfunny joker had scribbled an “s” after “Fortune” and “Private” with a marker in her absence. There was even an apostrophe to salt the wound. Flores’s bets were on Jeremiah repeating the same punchline. The truth was far from such as an expert joker never tells the same joke twice. She grumbled angrily before flipping the sign around and slamming it flat against the door.
“Rotten mood?” Nick commented.
“Just tired… of many things.” Right as she said so, the culprit appeared.
"Howya Mr. Henderson," Jeremiah greeted in an Irish accent. As he began to address Flores, he changed his dialect to something more fitting. "Buenos días, Zorro de la Fortuna."
"Good morning to you too…" Flores huffed tiredly.
"Out of curiosity, why must you have two last names? Flores? Fortune? What are you, operating under an author’s penname?"
"Ask my parents, if you can find them."
"Oh, I also intended on querying how you could call out El Jefe, I think that's the Los Rubios lad's moniker, on his horseapples?"
"His… what?"
"He means 'bullshit'," Nick answered for her.
"If you’re talking about his fake accent, then I’m not entirely sure."
“Oh well. Rats, I have been sidetracked once more. I need to recall why I came running here. Oh of course!” Jeremiah shouted out of nowhere. “Stalked, tracked, and perhaps even hunted! All of which were dastardly wrought upon me!”
“By who?” Nick and Flores asked simultaneously.
“Firstly, it’s ‘By whom.’ Secondly, oh just that fellow right over there.” Jeremiah pointed in the direction of the approaching figure cloaked in red. The hunter stalked with an innocent expression.
“What fun. The third musketeer shows his face.” The red-hooded figure bore no weapons. A blood-stained messenger bag hung from the figure’s shoulder. To the trio, it was uncertain what the figure’s intentions were.
“And you finally show your face as well,” Nick jeered, “I should’ve known that investigating your sister’s disappearance would eventually lead me back to you.”
“What a charming man you once were. Mais maintenant tu n'es plus qu'un cadavre!”
Jeremiah raised his hand to ask a question. Once Nick nudged him, he queried, “You two have history?”
“History is such a dull term.” The cloaked figure cackled with glee. “You broke my heart, Nick.”
“You never had one to begin with! Tried to trick a detective, did ya? Look where that got you. I feel bad for your sister’s sake.”
“So you know her now?” She laughed again and again before abruptly becoming silent. “Quel dommage. You should have met her before your friend killed her.”
"Most preposterous! She’s a blithering spinner of yarns, I tell ya! A fabricator of untruths, a perjurer, a fibber frenzied on the fervent feeling of fileting flesh! You doxy!” Jeremiah’s outburst surprised everyone. Judging by the way he immediately armed himself with a kitchen knife, Flores and Nick concluded that Jeremiah was no longer the one in control. “En garde, thou treacherous ronyon!”
“Ooh~ L'idiot est ici. How did you best my dearest sister? I must find out.”
“What be thine name, foul puterelle!” the Pretty Penny Pincher demanded.
“If you must thank someone for your tombstone, you may call me Red Robin, avenger of the late Cherry Red.”
The Pretty Penny Pincher froze in place. Shocked words fell out of his mouth. “T-that name! No, it can’t be. It shaln’t be! What have you done to her?!”
“Ask yourself that question, imbécile.”
The two’s joust of words allowed enough time for Nick and Flores to take positions. Nick held a steady aim with his snubnose revolver while Flores stood at standby with a tight grip on her knife. She was barely out of view of Nick’s peripheral vision, hiding her when the knife’s cognitohazerdous effects no longer did. The Pretty Penny Pincher charged forth with reckless abandon. Before he could strike Red Robin, she revealed her weapon of choice. A hidden blade slid out from under her sleeve. In a primed position, she delivered a devastating slash with her tactical butterfly knife. Her blade trailed a thin line of blood.
“Weak,” she scoffed, “1.27 seconds, minus the pointless banter."
The Pretty Penny Pincher staggered back clutching his hand. He had been put on the back foot within a single strike. Nick fired a shot, but the slippery foe preemptively dashed out from the line of fire. The bullet harmlessly scattered the snow. Flores closed in the trident for a pincer movement with Nick.
“A three-way pounce? That is no way to treat a dignified opponent. May you be lost to the Woods Where the Wolves Stalk.” Red Robin unveiled the ace she had hidden up her sleeve. A different syringe from the one she had used previously appeared from the messenger bag. She didn’t even bother injecting it. Rather, she crushed the delicate glass vial in her hands. The silvery liquid inside vaporized instantly upon contact with the open air. As it did, a veil of darkness surrounded the four and the sounds of wild woodland replaced the noise of the city. The chirping of birds was snuffed out by a loud series of howls.
“I’ll see you where we met if you survive this, Nick. I want just one more go at things.” Red Robin smiled before she turned and disappeared into the darkness. She hummed an innocent tune as she departed. Shadows crept in from the perimeter where light met dark.
“Slick, what’s going on?” Flores asked. She spotted what appeared to be a large pitch-black wolf in a tattered trench coat slowly approaching her. It hung close to the ground as if it were only a shadow. It had no eyes yet it still stared into her soul. “Slick!?”
“Damn it… I was hoping she never did this again.” Nick was already engaging the wolf attacking him with his trusty switchblade. In addition to copying his outfit, the wolf carried the same weapon Nick did in its jaws. “We’re fighting illusions of our making! Don’t let one get you, though, because you’ll end up stabbing yourself in reality!”
“What?”
“At least it’s only a Candid-grade Phenomena and a lower-threat one at that. Just fight it with your knife. Don’t try and pull out anything ranged.”
Due to the black blade that Flores held, the wolf’s blade was impossible to see. It lunged with a swing instead of a bite. She stepped back hastily, unsure as to what to do.
“I’ll teach you two a thing or two about some good ol’ ratfighting while we deal with this nuisance.” He swiftly parried an incoming blow with a well-honed deflect as he stepped back. “Follow what I do and load yourself like a spring!” Compressing his legs, he utilized his strong footing to charge a piercing stab. His attack broke through the wolf’s attempt at a guard with a switchblade. Using the wrong move with the wrong weapon led to a swift end to the shadow.
Flores timidly attempted to copy Nick’s moves, but the wolf attacked faster than she could. Thankfully, the wolf’s slash missed when Flores tripped backward. Nick caught the humorous misstep in his peripheral and tackled the wolf to the ground before it could do any harm to the downed Flores. Once Flores got back on her feet, Nick continued his instruction. He noted the type of knife she was using and accommodated.
“You're holding a Ka-Bar Tanto,” Nick identified, “It’s a fighting knife, use it as such!”
She swung and slashed at the shadow, hitting it a few times but with little effect.
“Use a stabbing motion!” Nick yelled “The knife’s strength lies in piercing and thrust attacks! Deliver the blow with your entire body as if you were punching. Well, more like thrusting.”
She steadied herself and did as such. She had never been a good puncher, but throwing her entire meager weight behind her strike drove the knife deep into the shadowy wolf. With a pained yelp, the wolf disintegrated into nothingness.
“Good. Good. Now you need to know the four main ways to hold a knife. It only has one sharp edge so the orientation matters, so don’t slash with the blunt edge.” Nick demonstrated by flipping his knife into a reverse grip in order to perform a downward stab. He followed it with a close-range cut directed at a second wolf that had strayed dangerously close. A third wolf attempted to stab him in the leg. Before it could, Nick turned his knife facing inward before grappling the wolf and slicing its throat. Not finished showing off yet, he tossed his knife into the air and caught it in a forward grip position. He bowed with his free hand behind his back upon finishing his performance.
“Showoff.” Flores experimented with a variety of grips. It was shocking how the knife’s handling changed with each different position. A forward grip with the blade facing front was well-rounded and well-ranged but vulnerable at very close range. A reverse grip covered that weakness, but severely limited her reach. None of it mattered if she couldn’t put sufficient force behind her attacks. She concluded that she needed both training and exercise.
“We’ve got plenty more to practice on. Keep it up.” Nick readied himself to face off against more shadowy wolves. They appeared in hunting packs ranging from three to nine. Some of them appeared wearing an apron. Jeremiah had been busy hacking away at the wolves. He had snapped back into his usual self now that Red Robin had disappeared. In a panicked frenzy, he chopped and cut the wolves apart as if they were ingredients to be minced. His culinary training finally came in use after its ineffectiveness against more human targets. Wave after wave of wolves came. Flores’s confidence in her knife gradually budded with each time she avoided death. Nick assisted, giving tips and lessons with each new enemy.
"Keep light on your feet. If you're too sluggish, they'll swarm you," he would say. "Keep your distance until you spring your attack. And keep your knife close to yourself if you don't wanna end up disarmed before you strike!" When he noticed multiple wolves closing in on her, he would yell, “Keep an eye out, you’ve got a few on your tail!”
She picked up her pace. Still, compared to her two comrades, she was only an inexperienced sprout. As she kept fending off the wolves, she noticed something worrying occurring to each of them. Every time one of them would successfully kill a shadow wolf, the color would drain from their clothes. By the time the horde thinned out Nick, Jeremiah, and Flores all became monochromatic. At least the dark veil began to lift. The last three wolves, however, were different. Three gray apparitions of wolves who stood on their hind legs mirrored the movements of Nick, Jeremiah, and Flores perfectly. Each wore the same outfit as their counterpart. The one copying Nick had a blindfold over its eyes. The one copying Jeremiah had its ears clipped and folded back. The one mirroring Flores held her exact image. No mouth, cold stare, and a knife fearfully clutched in its hands.
“Alright, we’re almost through. Just stab the last one and we’re home free,” Nick commanded. Both Nick and Jeremiah took care of their targets efficiently. Flores, on the other hand, stared silently at her reflection. It did not attack, nor did it move unless she did. Unlike the apparitions merely imitating Nick and Jeremiah, this one appeared exactly as Flores did. Disheveled, unkempt, lanky not quite lithe, and clinging on for survival. She attempted to step around it only for it to step back into her way. She took a step back only for it to repeat after her. She thrusted her knife at the reflection and it clashed against her reflection’s knife. She retreated her knife to allow the reflection to become harmless once again.
“Oi, fortunate one,” Jeremiah hollered, “What’s causing the delay?”
She turned to face the other two. Seeking to resolve the situation before it devolved further, Nick prompted a simple task. “Say something, sleuthhound.”
“A b-bit of help?” both instances of Flores stammered, “Either of you?”
Nick deduced that since they were mirrors of each other, it shouldn’t be too hard to determine which one was real.
“Hold your right hand out,” he instructed.
Flores obeyed hesitantly. She reached out and waved. Nick tossed his switchblade at the one who raised its right. The switchblade nailed the reflection right in the hand. Flores clutched hers despite there being no knife impaling it. She felt the phantom pain of the knife impaling her reflection’s hand.
“I-I’m fine. I’m fine.” Her reflection remained despite the hit.
“Of course, it just had to be you. What are the chances…” Nick ominously approached the reflection. There had been a minute chance of a mirroring occurring, even less so for it to take the exact form and movements of its target. It had only happened to Nick once. He still bore the scars from that day. “I’ll warn ya, this is gonna hurt a lot.”
He tore his knife out from the reflection’s hand. Flores yelped in agony. He needed to deduce the least painful way to finish the shadow off. His experience told him a gruesome option. “I’m going to stab your reflection’s head. The brain has no pain receptors, but the skin does. It should kill it.”
“What may happen if it still lives?” Jeremiah asked, “More importantly, what happens if Flores ends up lobotomized instead?”
Not wanting to risk potential brain damage, Flores sought for a better plan. “Slick, you sound like you have encountered this before. W-what did you do to escape?”
“I stabbed the reflection directly. You might have to do the same.” Nick restrained the reflection. He never had anyone to do the same for him. Maybe it could have prevented the need for his gloves. Instead, he chose to bite the bullet in order to live. His unfortunate experience deduced that the reflection’s reactions did not copy the target in the same way its actions did, making it possible for it to be attacked. All he needed now was for Flores to do so. “What are you waiting for, stab it. Stab it in the head. That’ll be the last combat lesson for the day.”
Without further hesitation, Flores stabbed her reflection right in the top of her head. A searing heat burst through her skull, but no physical harm was dealt. The pain prevented her from yanking the knife out. Before she hurt herself further, Nick grabbed her arm and yanked the knife out. She collapsed immediately onto the snowy asphalt. The reflection unbounded itself and morphed back into a wolf. It lunged at Flores, but Nick’s knife intercepted it with a fierce stab. The wolf disintegrated into nothing. The ordeal ended with an anticlimactic return to normalcy. Color seeped back into their clothing and the darkness ceased. They had wasted half an hour already. A car pulled up into the parking lot just as everything settled back into its usually snowy affair. A man, presumably the owner of the grocery store judging from his business attire.
“Why are you lot loitering in my lot and-” The man noticed Flores’s pained groans and her writhing on the floor while clutching her head. “Oh my goodness! Miss Fortune, are you alright?”
“She’s fine, she just…” Nick’s quick thinking successfully added to the embarrassment. “...hit her head on the lamppost.”
“Oh, clumsy as usual madam? Take better care of yourself, now.” The man walked to his store without another word, keys in hand.
Nick lent a hand to Flores only for Jeremiah to start dragging her to the wayside.
“Maybe it’s best we let her rest back in her abode,” Jeremiah suggested while he hoisted up her body.
“Put me down!” Flores managed to wrestle herself out from his grasp in the same manner that a cat would to unwanted attention. Jeremiah managed to get a hold of her again right as she broke free. “Unhand me or I’ll send you into a world of hurt!”
She frantically waved her knife about, attempting to graze Jeremiah with the blade. Nick stepped in, kicking Jeremiah aside and planting a foot down on Flores’s abdomen. He rolled her onto her back before confiscating her knife and slapping a pair of handcuffs around her wrists.
“Oh come on slick, you don’t know me enough to bind me like this,” Flores complained with a suave twang jokingly. Sustaining that false head trauma must have knocked some confidence in and sensibility out. Her words and attempted tone surprised even herself. “Or do you get a kick out of this?”
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“Just play along, sleuthhound.”
Jeremiah wheezed as the kick knocked the wind out of him, “Why poor ol’ meeeee…? What hath I done to deserve this. O-ooh…”
“Just… play… along.” Nick raised his head and his eyes met that of the disgruntled store owner staring through the window. “I’ll be taking these two into police custody now,” he loudly proclaimed.
The store owner nodded approvingly before leaving the window. Nick let out a series of curses under his breath as he put Jeremiah in handcuffs as well. He dragged the two of them back inside Flores’s office as if he were disciplining children. It was a shameful occasion for all of them, but at least it gave enough time for everyone to return to their senses. An uneasy silence fell. For Flores, it was mostly due to the extreme embarrassment from her poor attempts at mimicking the smooth-talking that Nick had refined.
“Oh good heavens, look at the time,” Jeremiah exclaimed. There was no clock inside of the waiting area of the office which he could have used to tell the time. He wore no watch either. Instead, he pulled out a wrist-mounted sundial as he stepped outside. “I’ve got to go open and attend to my bakery!”
Jeremiah left in a hurry with no further explanation.
“Do I even want to know why he has that?” Flores finally spoke.
“You really don’t. Sorry about earlier, by the way.”
“What in God’s name happened back there?” Peeved by the supernatural occurrence prior, she questioned her own sanity.
“I hardly know much about it, but that isn’t the first time something that strange happened. They occur often enough to be dubbed as Phenomena. They’re some sort of mind trick… or maybe they are real, I don’t know. Someone has to know though. I’m just not that someone.”
“Fair enough.” If she could have existed, she concluded that Phenomena had every right to as well. She pondered if she may have gone insane long ago. Maybe this was all a dream-esque world created by the last fleeting remnant of her mind. A bite-sized chocolate bar hurtling towards her quickly grounded her back in reality. She caught it with her face like everything else thrown at her. “Ack!”
Nick had tossed it over to Flores but unintentionally aimed it at her face.
“You really need to learn how to catch. You’re a fox, yeah? Wait, you’re a… fox?” It hadn’t dawned on him until now. Flores’s knife was in his possession, exposing her enigmatic appearance fully.
“Are you okay with eating chocolate?”
“Yes…? What kind of question is that? I’m still human, silly.” She realized the reason behind Nick’s odd question. Her form was fully exposed to the one she least wanted it to. The same panic response for the ones dedicated to emergency wardrobe malfunctions blared like air-raid sirens. She felt naked. “Hey, c-can I have my knife b-back?”
“You’re not going to stab me for finding out, are you? Don’t worry, yours is not the first lady’s secret I’ve had to keep.” He felt a bit odd talking to what was likely a Phenomena sitting in front of him. He brushed it off as a lingering side effect of the ordeal.
With the knife back in her possession, Flores breathed a sigh of relief. Still, many questions lingered on her mind. She held the small rectangular bar as if she were cradling a miniature child. The name was an unrecognizable swirl of gold cursive lettering in a foreign language. A little Swiss flag confirmed its artisan quality. She unwrapped the small chocolate candy bar and delicately placed it into her mouth. Refined dark chocolate melted on her tongue. Forgetting her woes through its lavish bittersweet flavor, she found herself lost in bliss. Answers would have to wait. She wanted to stay here forever and let the lush, rich cocoa leave her in a state of pure serenity. She swore it even cured her cold. When the delicacy finally vanished down her throat, she desired more.
“Where… Where’d you find that?”
“I see you took a liking to it,” Nick commented, “You are quite the tasteful gal. They sell them at a store downtown. I’ll show you where it is after all is said and done. You aren’t busy today, are you?”
Her eyes widened with excitement. If only the rest of her face could light up. “I’m as free as a bird. Though, not literally. Not even figuratively. But, momentarily.”
“Good. How ‘bout we get some chow first? I know a good breakfast diner just up the road from here.”
Flores salivated at the mere thought. She knew the place Nick was talking about and had eaten there sparingly. Their food was serviceable enough, but that was before prison food had ever touched her tongue. She wondered how her newfound appreciation for the culinary arts would affect the food this time.
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When they arrived at the diner, they set up in a booth. Most of the other patrons barely even noticed their presence. As Nick and Flores finished placing their orders, a sandwich and two fried eggs respectively, the subject of Red Robin was brought up.
“You two seemed to have history. She said something about you breaking her heart.” Flores hoped hers wouldn’t follow suit.
“Well… It’s a long story. And, if I’m honest, not one I really want to talk about. But, seeing as we have to, I’ll disclose this for your ears and your ears only.”
“My mouth is always closed.” She giggled shamelessly at her own joke.
“You know, I used to unintentionally be a bit of womanizer.”
“I think you still are. I mean you’ve caught me.”
“Tch. Tryin’ to be smooth with me now? You’re playing quite a dangerous game. Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for dangerous~” Nick smirked slyly. The plates with their food finally arrived. The waiter gave a light bump of encouragement to Nick’s shoulder as if to say, “You’ve got this.”
Nick hardly needed the support, but he accepted it anyway and saved it for later.
“Let’s get back on topic,” Nick continued, “The name she gave me was Robin. It wasn’t really a date, more so a prolonged brawl at a local bar. We worked pretty well fighting side-by-side, but I digress. I know now that Robin is just an alias of hers. It’s no more helpful to us than her current moniker. Our affair, if you could call it that, never got far. I found out she was a heartless murderer attempting to shield herself behind a detective.
“Lemme tell you, when she heard I was taking her in, not to my home, but to the station, she lost it completely. In fact…” Nick pulled off his right glove to reveal his palm. A crude heart had been carved into his flesh. “She did this to me to ensure I wouldn’t forget my ‘sin’ as she calls it. If anything, she’s the one who attempted to use me. There’s not much I can really say other than she is very dangerous and manipulative. She will try to break down your psyche once she latches on to a weak point. To think she used to be such a sweetheart… It’s all in the past now. One more scar, but nothing more.”
In the meantime, Flores finished wolfing down her eggs. She looked up into Nick’s eyes with sympathy. There wasn’t much she could say to comfort him, not much she could come up with anyway.
“You won’t be the same.” Nick leaned in close to Flores. “Right?”
“O-of course not. I’m just a humble private eye.”
“A hungry one at that. Should I be worried about you devouring me?” Nick silently reached down for his sandwich.
“I-is that a euphemism or…?”
“Whatever you take it as. But in case it is literal…” Nick presented the sandwich with a smooth smile. “You can have a bite.”
Nick didn’t need to ask twice for Flores to rip a large chunk out of the sandwich. She had taken more than half. He chuckled at the surprising appetite unbefitting of her skinny frame. Although, that may have been from being starved in prison. He finished the rest of the sandwich and the two headed for the bar where Nick supposedly first met Red Robin. He hadn’t informed Flores on where exactly that place was located for a good reason.
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Lust, gluttony, and greed were no longer seen as sins within’ the southwestern part of Laslow. They became another part of business. Casinos, restaurants, various other legal venues, and a long-since abandoned section of subsidized housing hid the underworld of Laslow. They became the moat that bordered two of the most infamous locales of the city. One was the Tyrian Market. Prosperous with deals beneath the watchful eyes of the city guard, the Tyrian Market was arguably the biggest open black market in the state. Every notable figure had their hands in the pool of sellable goods, but only a few kept to the side of service. Deep into the midst of the southwestern section lay the heart of indulgence, the Red Light District. A medley of sights and sounds. A look into the raw humanity running perpendicular, not quite contrary, to the civilization behind it. Men and women alike tore off their veils before obeying their most primal desires within the many nightclubs, brothels, and bars. All of it occurred behind closed doors, drawn curtains, and even in the shadows of the alleyways. Surprisingly, the streets and buildings in the region were the cleanest and friendliest for a lucrative appeal found nowhere else in the city. The Red Light District along with the Tyrian Market and the numerous other businesses in the region became the prime economic hotspring and attraction, but not for tourists. Weary men and women in business suits and labor outfits drifted about the place searching for relief. They came in droves from far and wide, often from neighboring cities. Now, they wandered here and there from restaurants to casinos. A few needed a different kind of stress relief, one that only could be fulfilled with screams of ecstasy. This invertedly caused the southwestern section of Laslow, unofficially dubbed the Isle of Paradise, to become heavenly despite it being nurtured by the hellish city backing it. Of course, such an advantageous luxury resource would not go undersupported by the heads of the city. They constructed the central railway terminal as a direct entrance into the prosperous specialty of Laslow. Interestingly enough, Flores had arrived in Laslow at that station. She never stepped too deep into the place until now. Each step taken through the dim neon-lit streets was another step further down into the sin eternally ever present but never talked of. And now, Flores found herself clutching Nick’s arm.
“Ease up a bit, sleuthhound. You’re gripping me a bit too tight. At this rate, you’ll cut off the circulation in my arm.”
She had never been so tense in her life before. The fur on the back of her neck even stood up straight. She loosened her grip only slightly, but she still held onto her lifeline. It took until the soothing tones of smooth jazz filled the air for her to relax.
“Wait, why is there smooth jazz playing?” she asked, surprised.
It was Nick’s turn to tense up. He knew this to be the sign of something unpleasant to come. The tuning fork in Flores’s pocket began to resonate with the music. Curious, she pulled it out to see what would happen.
“Is that the Ciceros’? You weren’t kidding about debts.” Nick feared for her life. “Put that away before they hear it, and tear off that Rhodes pin! You don’t wanna call the sharks while trailing blood.”
She shoved it violently back into her inner pockets and gently removed the pawn pin. She didn’t know if either would be useful yet. Nick opted for a different route to avoid a confrontation with the Cicero musicians performing tonight. Along the way, they encountered a group of workers walking with drinks in their hands.
They were raving on about work-related annoyances including, “Bossman never paid me for any of my overtime till two weeks ago. Guess what he gave me.”
“A bucket and two cents?”
“Nope. Only the bucket!”
Cheers of laughter at the inside joke erupted amongst the colleagues.
Nick and Flores walked to the other side of the street to avoid trouble. Any slight against loyal patrons of the isle meant making enough enemies to warrant preemptively digging one’s own grave. Unfortunately, that meant getting uncomfortably close to a couple of wandering streetwalkers. Two figures, one slim and one curvy, approached the pair of sleuths. Nick’s pace quickened and Flores followed suit. She could hear the footsteps get closer.
“Should we run?” Flores whispered to Nick. “Maybe threaten them a little and bluff our way out?”
“No. A good gambler keeps his hand hidden.”
“They don’t look that strong, well compared to you.”
“Hey, let’s not be too hasty now. A good gambler also knows how to bluff a bad hand just as they know how to bluff a good one. Just play along and keep your wits about. I’ve got a plan.”
The prominent odor of perverted activity emanated from the approaching pair. They let out a few playful giggles before the sirens began their ritual. One sauntered up to Nick who silently cursed at their persistence. Flores turned briefly to look and saw the prostitute stop Nick in his tracks. That’s when she felt something brush up against her side. Suppressing a yelp, she quickly snapped her gaze onto the rather thin-looking harlot attempting to feel her up. It seemed that both of the street girls were dressed in revealing clothing.
“My my, aren’t you quite the handsome catch,” the seductive voice whispered into her oversized ear. A hand glided around in search of any areas of vulnerability. Flores steeled herself as a rapidly rising fight-or-flight response rang out like an air-raid siren in her mind. She looked to Nick for any help and noticed how he seemed more annoyed than uncomfortable. Did this happen often to him?
“Nicky-poh, you know you want me.” The curvy one seemed to be intensely trying to rouse any sort of excitement out of the grumpy, apathetic detective.
“Look girls, there are plenty more fish in the sea for you to throw your bodies at.” Nick kept a secure grip on his belongings. Luckily, the trench coat he wore made it hard for the prostitute to slip her fingers into his pockets. “Go hit up someone else before I make you two spend some quality time in the slammer.”
“Oh, you want to lock us up? What naughty things must you want done to us?”
Flores’s attention was turned back to the one trying to seduce her. It took all of her restraint to stop herself from straight up socking the prostitute in the face with her elbow. Flores may not have known the fine arts of the fist, but she still knew how to throw a punch if necessary.
“Well, handsome, aren’t you gonna say something?”
“Get off of me,” Flores coldly answered.
“Hmpf, so you wanna play hard to get? What do you say we slip away from your buddy and spend a little time getting to know each other.”
“Sorry, but I don’t swing that way.” Flores saw that Nick had already gotten cuffs around the first prostitute.
“Oh, that’s okay.” The prostitute’s expression dropped a bit due to the disappointment, but the prospect of profits lightened her face again. “Oh~ I’ve got a stud waiting for you and I’d love to introduce him.”
“Huh? What are you on about?”
“It’s okay if you’re more interested in your own gender. Just follow me.”
“That is not what I meant by that. Are you deaf or has all of the night’s actions rattled your brain too much?”
“Ooh, how spicy~! But it’s gonna take a lot more than words to impress me with that snappy tongue of yours. Maybe I can show you what the other side looks like, just between you and me.”
Confused, Flores attempted to explain herself again. “I just told you I don’t swing that way.”
“Wait…” The prostitute, without warning, suddenly reached and grabbed Flores’s chest which prompted an equally sudden aforementioned elbow smack to the face. The prostitute, stunned, took a few steps back before looking at Flores again. “You’re a girl!?”
“Wha-” Flores was just as taken aback as the prostitute. “Are you daft or blind? Of course, I am!”
“What kind of girl dresses like a homeless man.” The prostitute's jaw was nearly on the floor. “And why does your voice sound like that? Are you a century old or something? Your body sure feels like it is.”
“Hey! I was given what I got.”
“Whatever, washboard. You’re not even a butch, just a bitch whose wallet I just stole.”
“What!?” Flores felt her pockets and sure enough, her wallet had been stolen. She looked back to see the thin prostitute rapidly getting away. She didn’t hesitate in giving chase. Nick was utterly distracted by the scene and failed to notice the other prostitute swiping his pack of cards.
"Huh? Dammit, you get back here!" He pursued the thief but looked back briefly to see Flores disappearing around a corner. His gut instinct told him that they should have stuck together, but he trusted her enough to be capable of fending for herself. She was an unlikely friend and Nick tried not to dread the possibility of losing her to this cruel city. Maybe he should have gone after her, but the decision to split had already been made. All he could do was hope for the best.
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Flores wasn’t sure when the wild chase would end. She kept track of the thief's scent and managed to keep pace. It was the one thing she was somewhat good at, running. She could smell the thief further down the alley around a bend. Perhaps she had thought the thief had finally run into a dead end. In either case, Flores readied herself for a confrontation. Her heart began to race and she kept her hand close to her knife. She never thought she would miss the feeling of the taser’s cheap frame in her hands until now. It would’ve likely ended any problems with little negotiation before they even started, that is if it worked. She noticed the scent had stopped moving. The thief was trapped. She had the advantage of surprise as long as she could pinpoint where she was. The issue was that she couldn’t tell if the thief was two feet or twelve feet in front of her. Everything smelt of trash and rot. The thief’s shrill scream of terror disrupted Flores’s focus. She froze and waited for silence to return before she sniffed the air for any sign of what happened. The thief’s scent was still lingering around and a slight hint of blood mixed with it. With her curiosity piqued, Flores drew her knife and cautiously rounded the corner. Her wallet sat right there in the middle of the dead-end as if it had been waiting for her patiently. Interestingly, the scent of the thief was no longer present. She quickly bent down to retrieve it and secured it back into her pants pocket. Unbeknownst to Flores, she and the thief had just wandered into Red Robin’s hiding spot.
A dart laced with a rather potent tranquilizing agent embedded itself into the back of Flores's calf. The brief moment of surprise was swiftly followed by a feeling of sluggishness as her surroundings swirled around into a blur. She tried to regain her footing, but only stumbled around as if she were in a drunken stupor. The cold hard concrete abruptly rushed up to give its painful but numb embrace as her vision faded into darkness, but it never came. Something inside of her stepped in to prevent her from slipping her moors into the depths of sleep, her old faithful flight-or-fight response. The effects of a sudden rush of near-lethal levels of adrenaline snuffed out the tranquilizer’s grasp. Time seemed to slow its march. Her vision returned tenfold with every detail sticking out to her cat-like eyes. The sudden movement of an approaching familiar figure cloaked in red caught her attention. The entity struck with the vertical slash of a blade faster than the blink of an eye. Flores instinctively dashed backward. The feeling of the tip of the knife cutting through her clothes and leaving a shallow gash. The trickle of crimson-red blood made her extraordinarily high heart rate skyrocket further. Grimacing in pain, Flores responded with a blind stab at whatever had just injured her. She didn’t hit anything except the blade of the attacker’s knife. She watched the dark glossy surface of her own knife dance in the morning light as it flew upwards and out of her hands. Miraculously, Red Robin the knife in her own hands in the same fashion that she had demonstrated before. Completely unarmed, Flores's heart sank as she knew her options had run out.
“Amateur…” Red Robin noted coldly before a sinister grin swept across her face.
Flores turned to flee, but the sensation of two sharp objects carving an X-shaped cross into her back sent her to the ground. The searing pain interdicted her desperate flee. Although the cuts weren’t lethally deep, the arm-length span of each wound kept her pinned to the ground in agony. Red Robin slowly walked up to the downed investigator. Flores tried to crawl away, clawing at the concrete helplessly as the looming reality of death dawned on her. A thousand voices screamed in panic within her mind as she felt a foot flip her onto her back. She got a good look at her potential executioner. The simple red cloak not only concealed Red Robin’s face but an assortment of equipment pouches and knives as well. With the way she dressed, she could’ve been mistaken for a mercenary rather than a serial killer.
“...mais tu as du potentiel.”
As much as Flores would have wanted to ask what that meant on any other day, she couldn’t. She froze in fear in front of Red Robin’s glare as her hand reached for something in one of the various pouches adorned on the utilitarian outfit. A prepared tissue laced with an even more potent knock-out drug was pressed firmly over Flores’s mouth and nose. She could hardly even struggle as her resolve faded and her vision faltered. Her eyes closed on Red Robin tying her and the unconscious body of the thief up before dragging them both away for processing.