Ultra Deviance (Work in Prog)

St. Priscilla's Hidden #1.b - S

Threads (Part 2-Final)

Another night of thorough investigation, three-hundred nine of three-hundred and eleven possibilities remain. Fan-fucking-tastic. Splendid, really.
She stared up into the perpetually night sky. What're you looking at? Shaking her head, she pushed on into the crowd. Every single one of them imaginary. A part of the dream. Going about their lives, the exact same motions as their real life counterparts at the time. She didn't consider them people so much as NPCs, it only felt right since she was practically playing them all on loop. Like loading an old save file day after day. If she pricked one, they bled, but did she? Ugh. What is this train of thought?
Hopping on the stool at Grecko's booth, she drummed her fingers on the counter the thousandth time. Grecko was like the uncle to everyone on this particular block, pouring drinks and listening to people talk about their problems. Soothing throats and hearts.                  He was as skinny and wrinkled as a mole rat, a white walrus moustache covering part of it up. A white mullet only highlighted his bald spot. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing tattoos he'd gotten in prison. The black vest over his dress shirt dusty.
"What can I get ya, kid?" Old Grecko asked as he always asked, fresh cigarette in his mouth. Same position, same stubby shape.
"Apple juice." Last time she got grape. Time before that, orange. She had exhausted his non-alcoholic beverage menu dozens of times. Not like he'd serve her anything else.
     "Sure thang." The small glass cold in her hand.
     Next he says; "Is your momma around?"
     "Is your momma around?"
     "It's dangerous to be alone at this hour."
     "It's dangerous to be alone at this hour."
     And she'd gone through several options before finally deciding on-
     "Mom's in the hospital." Sip. The dream juice went down as cold as the real thing.
     That's rough.
     "That's rough."
     "Yeah."
     Old Grecko had a history, but who didn't? His family had come from Scantinoplis with not a single Suprem to their name, not that it would do them any good, as Ultropia used Ultra Credits, but that was besides the point. Father died on the journey, mother caught in a territorial dispute between two villains. Him and his younger sister were taken into Hoster Care, split up. They never met again. Grecko had been left with no one, nothing but the clothes he had been lent and at the mercy of the system, a system that was strapping him to a dart and aiming for the maximum score, but had a good chance of missing and leaving him stranded with suboptimal results or even completely off the board. Yet, Grecko pushed through, albeit with a few misdemeanor charges when he was a teenager, but he made it out, seemingly okay, and while nowhere near well-to-do he was staying afloat. Living a simple, near charitable life of mixing drinks and listening to people. Old Grecko never hurt anybody.
     Too bad this place shuts down next year. Health Code Violations. Good Old Grecko would be found dead in an alley a few days later, several knife wounds in his gut.
     All alone.

***

     "Visions of HER! It reveals HER! It reveals HER!"
     "Sure, bud." She stepped over the bum's splayed out bum leg.
     "HER arrival is upon us!"
     "Uh huh." Her steps into the alley were undeterred by the same ramblings from the same doomsayer she had heard again and again.
     At the end of the alley something stood, awaiting her. A flicker of shadows grasping and gnarled hands went through her mind like a bullet. Chills like cold fingers tapping were felt up and down her spine. Sweat beat down her brow and neck. Her enemy. Parasite. Dream Eater. Fuck that.
     She spun around to see another figure blocking her path, she sighed.
     "You don't have to be scared of her. She's Efije. She's just different. That doesn't make her bad." He popped his trenchcoat's collar before beginning to bite his nails.
     "She keeps destroying my world. Literally. She isn't exactly going to be in my good books."
     "It's not her fault. It's what she does. What she has to do. We all have to eat."
     "She can eat someone else's damn dreams! I'm working."
     "Are you?" Shit. How long has he been watching? Shit!
     "You're more talkative all of a sudden." A deflection on her part.
     "Only ...in the dreams." Of course, in reality he's a nobody, extrapolate a bit-a loser. Here, he's a god. Mindset. TelePresley. Wizard Menlo. Megalomania was common in Modifiers, she had yet to see if it remained true for Notelmo Ezequiel Bellucci.
     A brief silence hung between them.
     "Even your dreams are cases..." Notelmo muttered, beating her to the punch.
     "I like to make the most of my time, even sleep. Sleeping was always my greatest enemy. In fact it's the enemy of great minds everywhere, next to closed minds and bad parenting."
    "Is that a joke? I'm not sure I get it." Notelmo stopped biting his nails and subjected her to his bug-eyed stare.
    Scottie rolled her eyes, minding that Efije the Dream Eater was still behind her, unmoving, lingering, possibly waiting. For her? No chance. She'd take Notelmo the Weirdo over her any night. "Notelmo, are you bothering me for a reason?"
    "Can I show you something? It won't hurt you. No tricks." He answered the moment she breathed the last word. "Just something I think is cool."
    She released a deep sigh. Can't believe I'm doing this. She had the distinct feeling that she wouldn't get far with a refusal. Every horrific possibility of what could happen played before her but she was in the odd, particularly self-loathing mood where she just didn't care for the moment. "Fine. Make it quick." The mood was often followed by intense regret.
    He nodded and reached to-
    "Don't." He thankfully stopped. A breath. "Let me." She slowly drew her hand out of her pocket and let it dangle in front of her, lazily, her eyes averted. She didn't want to see the moment skin contact happened. When his hand held hers she shut her eyes when she felt the wetness of a hand with freshly bitten fingernails. Luckily he released her in an instant, and the entire dream had changed locales. Before she even opened her eyes she felt the sun on her face, her outfit suddenly making her sweat. She knew enough history to instantly place the classical architecture, full of pillars, arches, and domes, canals running through them and gardens decorating them. Statues nude and armoured, detailed and abstract, of powerful people and strange gods more monstrous than majestic. As beautiful as the scenery was for a history buff or an architect, the silence of not a single person or animal dawned on her and made her all too uncomfortable and anxious at once. Keep it together. You're The Leak.
     "Do you like it? I based it off the city of Rubrum Furca, from the Blest Rhatin Empire." Notelmo said in a tone that usually accompanied a smile. He didn't smile. This kid's dangerous.
     "You mean the Last Rhatin Empire. And I'll give you that it seems historically accurate, you didn't add anarchistic chimneys like Pourpyke did in I, Suprema. You also didn't call it a trade city." The firing off of facts let her relax somewhat.
     "Aren't all cities trade cities?"
     "Exactly!" The loudness-perhaps excitement-in her own answer spooked her.
     "Thanks. And-No. The Blest Rhatin Empire, that was it's true name."
     Scottie scoffed. "There was nothing blessed, holy, or even sacred about it. They were barbarians, products of their time isn't even a valid argument. They were unnecessarily brutal. Right of conquest and one world orders are folly anyway. People fight. That's the maxim they should've realized when they were busy assimilating tribes and their neighbouring kingdoms. What's it to you anyway? Rhatin enslaved your people for centuries. Abakgi were hunted like dogs in the Suprema's Games, used for Blood Magick and fed to beasts, all in the name of their strange gods and later, Jahara. Come to think of it, why does a black kid have a Scantini name?"
     "You already know." Notelmo said.
     "Yeah, but I'm tired of carrying this conversation. If you're going to waste my time then at least give me something."
     "We've all the time in dreams. You're dreaming and you're still serious."
     "You're exploring. I'm working. Answer my question, Bellucci."
     "I was raised in Scantinoplis. Novelty and Lost Antiquity are used to describe it, it's most clear in the capital." Knew he wasn't just a history nerd. He's a history fanatic.
     "Scanassa." Scottie's knowledge of global geography only extended to capitals.
     "Yes. Rhatin roads are the most intact. But like the rest of Scantinoplis, the city is built upon the ruins of the old empire. The Scantini are stuck, in that way. Clinging to the glorious history of their ancestors, digging up and preserving, propping up old things."
     "That isn't necessarily bad, they can learn a lot from their bloodsoaked history." Though whose history isn't bloodsoaked?
     "They've taken the revisionist approach."
     Scottie sighed. "Historical negationism, you mean? Fucking idiot's approach. They should know better. The strong, charismatic leader; the demagogue, the populist, the cult leader-is dangerous and eventually dies. Empires fall, yada yada. Basic stuff."
     "You like using big words and academic terminology to sound smart." Notelmo noted.
     "Oh bite me, I am smart. I've cracked more cases than you, Jethro, and MC have nuts."
     "Vulgarity is a bad look on you."
     "I know, I channeled Catri there for a second."
     "Oh no."
     "That pint-sized party animal makes my headache a migraine every time she opens her mouth. Least she isn't like MC, I have to wonder how he functions with the sheer level of stupid and ignorance in his peabrain." She sighed. "Not that I can blame them, they've got it rough."
    "Maybe I have too. You don't know my story." Notelmo muttered.
    "You don't know mine." She shook her head. "Take us back. Now."  She shot out her hand, he took it.
     And just like that, they were. His little pet project giving way to her dream world. Just as they had left it. She shook him off her, sliding the hand quickly into her pocket. When she turned and saw that the Dream Eater was gone she started walking.
    "What makes your escape preferable to mine?" Notelmo asked, oblivious.
     "As I said, this isn't an escape for me Notelmo, it's work. It fucking kills me, but I have to do it."
     "Why?"
     "Why? What do you mean why? Why not! I was born with this Power, so I might as well use it to do some good. I don't give a damn about reasons. I just want the truth at the centre of the web. And I won't stop digging. You said the Scantini glorify the past, I literally live it every night, it never gets better. There's nothing to be done about it, but in the waking world we, I, can take action. Fucking do something." She sighed. Why was she monologing to this freak?
     "You're very inspiring." Notelmo said in such a dead tone it bordered on mockery. "But you must know, no matter how much good you do, there will always be another villain. Another case. Will you keep going until you're dead?" This kid talked like he was a professor. Not that she acted her age either. The sight might have been humourous, two children talking like little professors, if she hadn't been so pissed off.
     Scottie scoffed. "Why do you care?"
     "I'm just..." Now he's like the awake version. "...curious." What, was she a fucking specimen to him? An anomaly to study under a microscope? Or worse... did he... l-like... Vomit. That's what she would do. Right in her scarf. If that were the case. And it wasn't a skin colour issue. It was a -Wait, why did she have to justify it to herself? Gack.
     A cough. "Maybe I will just do it until I drop. At least there'll be a little good done by the time I'm gone. Doctor Precarious in Ultra Maximum Security, the Cold Sisters gone, the Yellow Cup chapter destroyed.
     "You think I like being like this? It's a pain in the ass being the most competent, but someone has to take charge before it all goes to shit. The problem is that I'm a child, and that I have to sound like a child for me to be convincing and for people to understand me."
     "You never sound like a child. I watched-"
     "You've obviously never heard of the words, creepy, stalker, and invasive."
     "I could say the same to you, you're The Leak. Information digging is your schtick." Surprised he didn't make the piss joke.
    "How many of those cases were solved by you directly and not your UD Power?"
    "Woah there, bud. You're talking to me about UD Power addiction and dependency? Bellucci, there's a reason there's truckloads of thought-free en route to St. Priscilla's."
     "It's not my fault-"
     "Oh, it's never the Modifier's fault." She said incredulously. "Mindset didn't mean to cripple poor six-year old Marian Hughes for life. TelePresley didn't intend exactly to shred her little brother's prefrontal cortex to the point where their parents turned him Cog. The Wizard Menlo didn't want to hypnotize a class of kindergarteners into only being able to eat blue food without suffering. It's always a mistake, a slip up, an accident. Bull. Shit. We need Modifiers, no matter how badly they fuck up and prove to be untrustworthy... because they're too useful, that's the truth."
     Notelmo took in what she was saying for a second before responding, studying her. "Your cases have made you cynical and biased."
     "I'd call it realistic. I'm happy to be wrong though, if you manage to not mind rape anyone during your Power Operator career than I'll admit I was wrong on a blogpost. How's that for an incentive, a celebrity giving you a shout-out?"
     "I could do without the attention."
     "So could I. Notice I'm a celebrity. I don't like the attention but I'd be lying if I said I haven't gotten used to it. Lecturing people is therapeutic for me. It's like associating strong emotions with physical actions without all the drawbacks since it's just words."
    "Just words."
    "Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will never harm you." She sighed, she was doing that a lot. "You have heard of that, right? Even tucked in your little cocoon? And no that's not an offensive comment about the bug girl."
    "Why are you like this?" The tone he used was an abrupt change, he sounded genuinely curious.
    Her forehead creased under her hat momentarily. "Like what?"
    He shook his head. "There has to be a happier place than this for you-"
     "Dig into my brain and I'll make you wish you were dead." It was the borderline non-sequitur that ended conversations. She hadn't even known why she blurted out, only that the words had already left her mouth as soon as she processed them. But because he was Notelmo Ezequiel Bellucci, he kept talking.
     "This is Ultropia from two years ago. Happier times." Nice observation skills.
     "For you, maybe." She grit her teeth behind her scarf.
     "What are you trying to find in this dream world of a memory?" Notelmo tilted his head.
     "What are you trying to do by annoying me?" She rolled her eyes beneath her hat. "Look, I'm only being so loose lipped and downright chummy with you because I know your social interaction is lacklustre. This numb conversation serves no purpose other than simple stimulation. A more smug me would call this extended social experiment a privilege." She blinked. "Hell, there's even a chance this is all a hallucination as a result of sleep deprivation and I can rest easy." As easily as one can rest with sleep deprivation.
     "Jethro and I were here briefly, before the ice queen." He blurted out. The fuck? Jethro Ganem, you disappoint me. Ice queen? The WIntoma girl. Evie. Fucking Modifiers.
     "What? Wow. Thanks for that memo about the invasion of my mind and the violation of me in my sleeping state."
     "No-" Notelmo vainly began.
     "No?! Fuck you. Seriously. There's something actually wrong with you, Bellucci. Something in your head, your brain's chemistry, something! Your social skills are so far beyond 'leaving something desired' and straight into weirdo creepy stalker shit. I'd tell you to get yourself checked out but I'm convinced that psychiatry is a new cult so, y'know. Telling you to commit suicide is also not my style, so the happy medium I've come to is that you should get away from me, and get yourself sorted." She shrugged. "And if that doesn't work, then go inside your own head."
    Feeling a sort of finality after the rant she picked up her pace and left him behind, the breath in her throat hitched. She had been so frustrated in her interactions with people lately. Her outburst at Hyram, her disgust at Lady and Alejandro's illicit relations, her rage at Notelmo. To say she wasn't feeling for people at the moment was the understatement of the century. She had to refocus, see the big picture. She had made decent progress on Roberson, now she had the main investigation. The one that had always eluded her. The one whose face The Leak could not leak. The one she wanted was at the centre of a web, that she was outside of, and was constantly looking for the right string to pull on, stumbling blindly through a dark sea of misinformation and stupidity. The spider was irrelevant, the spider didn't exist as far as she was concerned. If it was required for the task ahead, she could be a spider.
    As she approached the location of the incident all those years ago, a feeling that wasn't quite excitement and wasn't quite exhaustion enveloped her. She had gone through thousands of angles before narrowing it down to a few key locations. When she reached the area near the incident, she saw a filthy rag on the ground, followed by a trail of blood. A satisfied smile crept onto her face under her scarf, the sort of hollow joy one felt when their mother's company told them they would pay for her funeral. Emptiness was the easiest feeling to cling onto.
     "What is all this?" Notelmo asked as he approached, not content to leave her alone. Serve as witness then.
     Scottie smiled behind her scarf. "Threads."