“You ‘fraid of monsters, kid?” Trav Mindan was in a crouch, eyes locked on the floor next to the body. He was running the tips of his fingers slowly along the ground, feeling about like a blind man reading grail. He didn’t even seem to notice the smell of the corpse, now forty eight hours old. A few meters away his partner, Linda Cosgrov, stood, sizing up a painting on the wall. She, on the other hand, could smell the body. It perforated the air in the room with a heavy, decaying dampness. She turned toward Trav, pinching the nose of her N95 mask as she spoke. “If you’re asking whether or not I’ve been briefed on the danger of this assignment detective, then the answer is yes, I have.”
Trav only chuckled. The two stood in the living room of a decadent villa in Beverly Hills, California. From behind her, Linda heard the man grunt, and shot a glance in his direction. “Find something?” Trav grunted again and nodded at the body. She strode over, pulling on a rubber glove. Trav crouched near the head of the body, rummaging in the victim’s hair. He whistled as he rubbed something between his fingers and stood, pulling off his gloves. “Yeap,’ looks like another one. Damn.” His southern drawl came across, even through the mask.
Linda sighed as she knelt in Trav’s place. “The red sand again?” Trav nodded as he removed his N95, and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “Same shit. Pretty much a calling card by now.” Linda sifted through the corpse’s hair, then examined her fingers. Small grains of sand stuck to her hand. She rolled the tiny particles between her fingers, confirming it wasn’t blood. She pulled an evidence cube from a container on her utility belt, placed a few grains inside and stood, pulling off her gloves. “Agreed. So a serial killer then?”
Trav took a drag, blew it sideways, and shrugged. "Looks that way, don't it?" Linda frowned and resisted the urge to scold him. He knew smoking on the job was not permitted, but Trav was her superior, and this was her first real case. Instead, she asked another question. “So, back to the station? Forensics will want some of this. It's the only lead we’ve had since the first murder.”
Trav squinted as he looked around. “There’s somethin’ else…somethin’ we’re missin.” Linda raised her eyebrows, “what do you mean?” Trav shrugged, taking another drag. He panned his eyes around the room before speaking. “Just a feelin.” Linda activated her cybernetic eyes, increasing her perception significantly.
With these turned on, she could see black light, heat, infrared, and even ultraviolet light. They created a visual model of the room she was in, and could even see through walls, simulating visuals for rooms she hadn’t entered yet. She scanned the room for any anomalies, being sure to check both the ceiling, and under the floor. Nothing. Turning to Trav, she switched back to her normal vision. “Room’s clear.”
Trav’s cigarette had vanished, and he had his hand cupped to an ear. He cocked his head for a second, then walked in a circle, face turned up at the ceiling. As she watched him, she was reminded how odd Trav was, in comparison to most of the other detectives at the station.
Most of the officers she had met so far were super type A, by the book, protocol people; a lot like her. They were nice enough, but every other detective she had met since graduating from the academy all gave off the, “I work a lot and probably don’t even know my own kids” vibe. This was especially true of the senior ones. Trav, on the other hand, was anything but. The man was not only an outlier in personality, but also protocol.
Smoking on duty was one thing, but the man also blatantly ignored dress code! Every detective at the station was required to keep a dress code on duty. White shirt, black suit, black shoes, visible id. Trav, on the other hand, casually strolled into the office, everyday, in varied and multicolored Hawaiian shirts. The man seemed to have an endless supply. They ranged in color, from whites with bright floral patterns to tropical oranges and deep purples. His pants were usually some variation of khaki; Linda doubted the man had ever worn slacks in his life.
For shoes, Linda had never seen Trav in anything but brown leather sandals - over socks, no less! But the cherry on top, his calling card per se, was the hat. Linda had never seen Trav even once without his tan cowboy hat. She swore the guy probably slept in the thing. He wore it now, along with a brown leather jacket, white and Orange Hawaiian shirt, brown corduroys, and his sandals.
Trav suddenly froze in his circle walking, looked over at Linda, and pointed up with a thumb. He was grinning. “Found ‘er.” Linda was beginning to get frustrated. She had just told him nothing was there. Just to make sure, she activated her implants again and scanned the ceiling. Nothing. She sighed. “Detective…”
Trav ignored her, pulling something out of his coat pocket. She did a double take as she recognized the brown wax paper and bright orange sticker. Linda read the lettering. “Jojo’s Deli” stood out in bold black letters against the orange background. The smell of turkey and onion wafted over to Linda as Trav opened it.
Linda’s mouth hung in disbelief beneath her mask as she glanced at the dead body not 3 feet from where Trav stood. Was the man about to eat a turkey sandwich right now? She felt like she were going to burst a blood vessel. Linda closed her eyes and started to massage her temples. Why had HQ assigned her to this guy? He was clearly off his rocker. How had he even made Detective like this?
As Trav continued to wander around the crime scene with his sandwich, Linda tried to contain the rising dissonance she felt. She had worked hard at the academy, and had finished top of her class. No small feat, as the classes at the academy were often in the thousands, as was the case with her year. It had been exciting then, when she had been assigned to Trav Mindan. The man was a legend; an S-Ranked Detective, supposedly in the top five. His case records were impeccable, his files outstanding. He was supposed to be one of the best, a perfect place to begin her career as a rising star. She sighed and glanced at Trav again.
The man stood in the center of the room with his back to her, apparently still munching away. Linda scowled as she noticed his left hand lazily under the backside of his pants, scratching. Linda felt her dissonance build to volcanic heights. How was this Travis Mindan?
She opened her mouth to speak, but Trav beat her to it. He whirled to face her and spoke between munches, not bothering to finish before talking.
“She’s good…this ‘un…almost didn’t sense ‘er. But you can’t hide aura like that.” He pointed towards the ceiling with the sandwich. As he did, a small piece of what looked like avocado slid lazily out of the back, onto the ground. Linda watched it fall as it plopped onto the hardwood floor. Trav didn’t seem to notice. “And,” he continued, munching away, “old girl’s hungry.”
Linda was at a loss. Aura? Was Trav one of those religious types too? She closed her eyes again for a moment to regain composure, then took in a deep breath. “Detective, what the hell are you talking about? Aura? What ‘girl?’ ”
Trav smacked his lips as he finished the sandwich. It was only then that Linda noticed a thin piece of meat hanging from his right hand. As she watched, Trav lifted the piece of turkey directly above his head, and made eye contact with Linda. Trav grinned as he spoke, “You got a lot to learn, kid.” Right as he finished the word, “kid,” an explosion erupted from the portion of ceiling directly above Trav’s raised arm.
Linda dove, ducking behind an ornate dining table as debris and red sand rained from above. The fallen material created a dust cloud in the room, and Linda couldn’t see Trav at all. Grateful she hadn’t taken off her mask, she activated her implants again, attempting to get a handle on what was going on. What she saw both horrified and amazed her. Two figures moved incredibly fast within the dust cloud. The smaller one wore a hat, so she assumed it was Trav. He looked to be wielding a weapon in each hand, but she couldn't identify either of them. They looked like melee weapons of some kind; whiteknives, or maybe buzzers. His silhouette ducked, dodged, and blocked with what looked like practiced ease. Linda turned her gaze on the other participant.
The creature Trav fought was odd to look at. It was taller, perhaps seven feet or so, and looked to be humanoid, at least in outline. One major difference stood out though; it definitely had more than two arms. Linda blinked, trying to keep up with their movements. She frowned as she watched; how was that possible? Her implants should be able to follow the speed of a fist fight.
Linda placed her finger to her temple, visually scrolling through the settings on her HUD. She found the menu she was looking for, and activated the option, “Show Speed Values as Numerical.” As she closed her HUD and turned back to the fight, she felt nausea hit her in a wave. Yellow numbers popped out of nowhere with every movement the two made, swarming her field of vision in a kaleidoscope of yellow symbols.
Linda winced and took a deep breath, then exhaled. Her implants had the tendency to show every movement value in a field of vision if not directed. She focused on the outline of Trav, keying in on one of his arms. As she did, the kaleidoscope of numbers faded, and were replaced by the occasional value that popped into existence every time Trav made an attack. As she watched, the dust began to finally clear, and she realized the fight had paused. A red haze filled the room, making it hard to make out all the details, but Linda could finally key in on the general state of the fight.
The creature stood to one side of the room, hands out in front, eyes locked on Trav. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of it. It's head was confusing to look at, much larger than a normal human, with odd shapes obscured by the haze. The thing held no weapons, but long, wicked-looking claws tipped six fingers on each hand. It seemed to be breathing heavily, and Linda’s implants detected several long gashes across its abdomen. The thing was wounded, but it seemed to barely notice.
Trav stood a couple meters away. Linda blinked as she realized the man was...chewing bubble gum? She was tempted to be bewildered by the fact that Trav had found time to pop a piece of gum into his mouth during the fight, but she avoided that path of thought. She was beginning to accept that nothing Trav did made sense.
The eccentric man stood as casual as could be, slowly rolling knives through his fingers. So they were knives, then! She focused in on the weapons, using her implants to zoom in. A small gasp escaped her lips as she did.
Black blades about a hand and a half long nestled in Trav’s hands. They were curved on one edge, like hunting knives, and seemed to vibrate with energy of some kind. Long dark hilts attached to the blades, the handles extending just below his hands. They seemed to be etched with writings or symbols of some kind, but even with her implants Linda couldn’t make them out in the haze. The writing wasn't what she focused on anyway; she had eyes for nothing but the blades. As she zoomed in, a yellow outline surrounded the weapons, her implants’ connection to the system confirming what she already knew. Large red blinking letters filled her vision as she did. “Warning, illegal item Category S++. Capture Priority 1.” She turned off the alert with a thought.
Darkblades. Ancient weapons made of sentient metal, full of unstable energy. Outlawed before the Purge. Darkblades were powerful, but so many had turned on and killed their own wielders they were eventually all hunted down and destroyed, now replaced by the more docile, artificial intelligence-powered Whites. They were the most illegal item on the planet, and Trav had not one, but two. Once again, Linda was absolutely baffled. Headquarters had to know he owned these weapons. This fact alone should make him a high priority criminal, Detective or no. Darkblades were not only a national security threat, but a threat to human existence itself. Anyone caught with one would be executed and their existence wiped from the Records. And yet they allowed it. Linda gulped as she watched Trav continue to fight. Who was this guy?
Linda didn’t have anymore time to ponder when, without warning, Trav lunged toward the creature, slashing wildly with one of his weapons. As he did, a number popped into existence above Trav’s arm, floating toward the ceiling. 289mph. Linda’s eyes bulged as she read the number, her heart beating fast. Before she could even compute the ramifications of such a value, she heard Trav’s voice. “Cosgrov! Move!”
Linda didn’t need to be told twice; she pulled herself from under the table and dove behind a couch. Right as she landed, a crash erupted directly behind her. Linda risked a glance around the couch, then placed a hand over her mouth. She finally had a full view of the creature, and what she saw sent her mind reeling.
A humanoid with four arms and what Linda could only describe as a spider face lay on its back, directly on the broken table. Its skin was a deep red, and looked to be the consistency of sandpaper. One of the knives lay embedded in the thing's chest; purple blood seeped from the wound. As she looked on, the knife vibrated wildly in the wound, wiggling around as if it had a mind of its own. Linda paled as she realized; the knife did have a mind of its own.
Trav strode up, interrupting her thoughts. He pulled the knife free, and wiped it down with a black cloth. The other blade seemed to have disappeared to wherever Trav kept them. Placing the blade into his jacket, he pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it. Only then did he look at Linda. The man was stoic for a second, then grinned around his cigarette; “Welcome to the Hunters, kid.” Linda only stared. She felt like she couldn't really compute what had happened today. “H-Hunters?” She managed to stammer. As Trav helped her up, all she could do was wonder the same thing she had been confused about all day.
Who exactly was Travis Mindan?