Book 2: Chapter 37: The Stories Say...
Book 2: Chapter 37: The Stories Say…
Dan was once again in a police interview room beside Sergeant Kaneda Ito. The last time he’d been in this position had been immediately after his ill-fated ride along, and his brief, violent encounter with a mercenary attempting to bomb the APD. The atmosphere was more welcoming on this occasion, but the mood was no less grim.
The table was bare steel, and quite cold to the touch. Dan kept his elbows on it, as he rested his fist against his cheek. The chairs were shit; uncomfortable by design and utterly devoid of padding. Dan slouched in it anyway, his body molding to the hard metal like an ooze. Ito sat across from him, back perfectly straight in an almost military posture. The two men stared at each other.
“I want to be clear from the beginning,” Ito began in a gentle tone, “you are in no trouble whatsoever.”
“Well… that’s good?” Dan offered back. He hadn’t thought he was in any trouble, but it was nice to have it confirmed.
“You made a perfectly legal business arrangement that went bad,” Ito continued patiently. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” Dan pointed out. He was a little irritated and anxious, but that was about the future, not the present. His thoughts lingered on the culprit. Was it Andros Bartholomew? Or some other enemy that Dan had made without realizing it? Or was it a coincidence, and he was simply chosen at random, another twist of fate and bad luck bringing him into this situation?
“There’s no need to be defensive. Anyone would be a little nervous in this situation,” Ito soothed. “I just want to ease that.”
“That’s nice, but I’m fine.” Dan replied with a helpless sigh. His fingered tried to drum impatiently against the table, but he stilled them. “I think I’ve just grown used to the insanity.”
Ito regarded him skeptically, but finally relented. “Very well.”
“So why am I here?” Dan asked.
“We have concerns about your safety,” Ito replied. He stopped, considered his words, then added, “Again.”
Dan grunted in sour affirmation.
“I don’t mean to alarm you, but it’s possible that you were targeted,” Ito continued.
Dan’s sharp laugh echoed in the small interrogation room.
“Think so?” he asked acerbically. He didn’t mean to sound that way; none of this was Ito’s fault. Dan was just tired of having people trying to kill him. Recent events had weighed heavily on his mind, and his temper wasn’t what it normally was.
“I do,” the sergeant replied stoically, paying Dan’s outburst no mind. “The investigation of the bodies, the disappearance of a high ranking officer, and the gang war are all being kept separate, for now, but we’re keeping each lead detective in the loop. You have the dubious honor of being tangentially involved in all three. Expect to spend a good deal of time answering questions over the next week, as the investigation continues.”
“Wonderful,” Dan replied, slouching even further. But something about Ito’s words twigged at his mind. “Wait. Bodies?”
The APD officer hesitated before answering. “Yes. Three separate bodies have been identified in the… slurry that you were meant to deliver.”
Dan thought he should’ve felt ill. Instead, he just felt confusion. “I don’t get it,” he stated, honestly frustrated. “What was the point of it all? Three people are dead for seemingly no reason!” Dan’s anger wasn’t feigned, and it came roaring into him fast and hot. “Even if I’d delivered the thing without noticing all the blood and viscera splashing around inside it, the person I was supposed to deliver it to is missing! What was the plan? I drop it off at an empty house and then leave? Because that’s what I would have done! I’m not a fucking babysitter! I’m a glorified postal worker! Who pays to deliver a tub of butchered corpses to an empty house!?”
“All good questions,” Ito remarked, ever unflappable. “Which leads into a question of my own.”
He slowly drew something out of his pocket. It was a white, rectangular film sheet, maybe three or four inches across, with something imprinted on the front. It was a polaroid! One of the old instant film kinds that Dan had only ever seen in movies. There was a face on the front, and Ito’s demeanor was deadly serious as he laid the picture down on the table.
“Have you ever me this man, or someone who looks like him?” Ito asked, voice grave.
Dan looked down at the photo. It was clearly old, and the quality was grainy. He gently picked it up between two fingers. “How old is this?” he asked skeptically. “It looks like its about to fall apart.”
“About fifty years”
Dan blinked. “Well it certainly looks its age. Where’d you get it?”
“Old case files in storage. Answer the question, please.”
“Do I know him?” Dan repeated. He glanced down at the picture. The man’s face was narrow and long, with gaunt features. He looked a bit like an emaciated horse. His nose was slightly longer than normal, and angled sharply downward. His hair was a curly black, and hung in wild locks around his face. He was clean shaven, and his sharp, pointed chin was clearly visible.
He was completely unfamiliar to Dan.
“Never met the man,” he said.
Ito breathed out a sigh, and Dan realized with shock that the man had been incredibly tense.
“Who is he?” Dan asked, concerned about this sudden line of inquiry.
“That,” Ito tapped the photo with a finger, “is one of the few remaining pictures of one Jeffrey Saide.”
The scarred officer paused for emphasis, and Dan stared at him, blankly. Who the hell was Jeffrey Saide? The name was vaguely familiar, in the same way a commercial jingle or a company motto might be. Dan had heard the name before, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, place it. He shrugged in Ito’s expectant face.
The man scowled. “Kids these days. No respect for history.”
“Who is he?” Dan repeated, pushing the photo towards the older man.
“In the sixties and seventies, he went by the name Cannibal,” Ito revealed, a knowing expression on his face.
Ah. That name certainly rang a bell. One of the more feared supervillains: a Natural who had emerged near the end of the chaotic sixties, when vigilantes still roamed the United States in droves, and had eaten his way through most of the country. He was supposed to be the most durable Natural ever recorded, and it took a specialized government strike force, and the help of several illegal vigilantes, to bring the man down. The fight had leveled most of Chicago, and the city had never entirely recovered.
“Well— Okay?” Dan blinked rapidly, several times. “Why are you showing me pictures of a dead serial killer?”
“Technically, his body was never recovered,” Ito said.
Dan blinked again. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”
Ito chuckled. “Ah, don’t mind me. It’s just an old conspiracy theory. But I should answer your question. You are aware of Miss Valentine’s roots, are you not?”
“I, um,” Dan stammered. It was like conversational whiplash. What did Freya have to do with this? “I guess? Her dad was with the FBI or something, right?”
“Grandfather, but yes.” Ito nodded. “Ex-Special Agent Valentine was understandably upset when someone tried to murder his granddaughter and her fiancé. I’ll spare you the particulars. Essentially, we asked him to reach out to his FBI contacts for help in our investigation.”
“That’s good!” Dan exclaimed. He sat up, extending his arms and pushing against his chair. The metal screeched as it ground against the hard floor, and he winced. “Isn’t it?”
“It should’ve been,” Ito agreed. “But this was over a week ago, and his contacts only just got back to him.”
Dan grimaced. “Are the feds always this cagey?”
“No,” Ito replied immediately. “They are usually quite happy to demonstrate their reach and strength. Their recent behavior is most unusual.”
“So what did they say?”
“Very little,” Ito lamented. “Valentine was given only a warning: to keep an eye out for Cannibal copycats.”
Dan furrowed his brow. “What? Why?”
“He was not told.”
“That’s less than useful,” Dan grumbled. He slouched back down, pressing his fist against his face. “But if Cannibal is dead, why are you showing me his picture.” He re-examined the question, then straightened. “And why are you showing me his picture!?”
Ito’s face was grave. “The bodies in that tub were partially eaten by something. The flesh was torn apart, as if by wild animals.”
“Oh fuck me,” Dan gagged. “That’s horrific!”
“Quite.”
“But you didn’t answer the question! Cannibal is dead! So why the picture?”
“Well, that’s just a little hunch,” Ito admitted. “You see, while studies of the phenomenon are rare, there are several documented cases of Natural children gaining similar powers to their parents upon exposure to cosmic radiation. Cannibal might be dead, but…”
“You think he had a kid? And that I know said kid?” Dan asked incredulously. He shuddered at the thought. “I’m positive that I don’t. It’s probably pretty hard to believe, given how ridiculously charismatic I am, but my social pool isn’t what you would call expansive. I don’t know anybody who looks even remotely like this guy.” He gestured towards the picture.
“Ah, well,” Ito sighed. “It was just a thought.”
“A really fucking disturbing one,” Dan noted.
Ito shrugged. “The FBI clearly know something but they aren’t willing to tell. We are pursuing all possibilities at present.”
“I suppose that should be comforting,” Dan grumbled. He paused, cocking his head. “What now?”
“Now we discuss your security options,” Ito replied. “Your home will be put under surveillance for a time, just in case. I’ll select a few officers and plant them in an unmarked car. They’ll keep watch on your house while you’re away. Given how difficult you are to pin down, an ambush inside your home is the easiest way to catch you off guard. My officers will make sure that doesn’t happen.” He paused. “If you have any preferences…?”
“Anyone but Gregoir!” Dan exclaimed immediately.