Case 2 - The Other Story Part 2

Case 2-D: A Setback and A Reveal
Well, there went the Cleaners' ticket to Spooner County (well technically tickets). The four of them watched the train as it departed from Concord Station then directed their annoyed glares to Mick.

"What?" asked Mick.

Mick had a genuine look of confusion on his face, oblivious to the fact that all four of them were now seated just inches away from law enforcement in a cramped office. The authorities thankfully were distracted by their own conversation. Said authorities consisted of a portly police officer, a member of the station's staff, and a security guard. To be honest, it was hard to tell who had which profession considering that their uniforms looked similar with only a few minor differences.  

Rhodes leaned over to Hank. "Should we tell him?" he whispered.

"It didn't stick when I tried it in Durwood," said Hank. "Just tell him not to kill or maim anyone in the room."

Rhodes passed the message onto Scott, who passed it on to Mick.

Mick opened his mouth. Scott whispered into Mick's ear again. Mick closed his mouth almost instantly.

"What did you tell him?" asked Rhodes.

"Stabbing counts as maiming," Scott responded. "Don't want another repeat like what happened with the Calliope Brothers."

"Jesus that was a nightmare to get through."

By that time, the authorities had finally finished their lengthy discussion.

"After looking through your records, we've decided to let you off the hook for now," said the police officer. "On one condition."

"What would that be officer?" asked Hank.

"You are not to set foot on another train as long as he's alive," he said, pointing to Mick. "Now get out."    

As the Cleaners were thrown out along with their luggage, the door was shut swiftly behind them.

Hank was at the forefront, formulating an alternate method of travelling. Mick was not far behind him, sulking apparently. Rhodes and Scott hung out behind them. All of them were carrying their heavy luggage on their backs with surprising ease.

"So how long would that be?" asked Scott just out of earshot of Mick.

"Well Mick had his sixty-fifth birthday just a few months ago," said Rhodes. "I'm guessing it will be another thirty-five before we can even set foot here again."

"So what's the plan now boss?" Scott shouted as both of them caught up to the rest.

"What are our finances at the moment?" asked Hank.

"We brought about eight hundred dollars," said Rhodes.

"Well buying a car is out of the question," muttered Hank. "Are there any buses that can go outside state boundaries?"

"Are those even a thing?" asked Scott.

"No then."

"We could try hitchhiking," suggested Rhodes. "There's got to be at least one car that's heading outside the state."

"Wait, how many states away is Spooner County?" asked Rhodes.

"Around four more," said Hank. "Even if we hitchhike, I doubt we'll be able to get there through one car alone. Not that many people travel there."

"Well we could always -- " Mick started.

"No!" all three of them shouted in unison.

"Screw it," said Hank. "We're hitchhiking."
###
The Harman family's new residence wasn't exactly what any of them would consider roomy. If anything, all of them would rather be back at that spacious mansion in the Underground. Not to mention they had to go through a lot of hurtles just to even set foot in it. Whoever decided on the rule of succession in the Underground clearly was born several centuries ago.

Now that the Cleaners had discovered them, they had no choice but to retreat to the spare hideout in the middle of Spooner County. Their living conditions were still posh, especially when compared to the wooden shacks the residents still lived in. It seemed like no matter how many years passed, there was that one part of America that refused to embrace the modern era. At the very least, it was inconspicuous.

But that came at the trade-off of the spaciousness of their houses of old. It wasn't even a house meant for four people. It didn't even have a second floor to it. There were only two bathrooms, a single kitchen off to the corner, a living room, and three bedrooms. They had enough of an awkward time deciding who had to be the ones to share that one bed. If anything, the squabbling brothers weren't going to share with the likes of Franz, the fattest of them. Franz usually got to go first anywhere in the house. Nobody wanted to suffer the misfortune of getting crushed by his humongous frame, for he was as tall as he was wide.

Every time, the moment they finally settle in, they always had to show up and chase them out. Well, they weren't trying to chase them out so much as they were trying to murder them every chance that they got. This had been the case from the very beginning. All of them had a nostalgic yearning for their old mansion, though not for sentimental reasons. It just meant that they wouldn't have to stay in the same room constantly.

As of that moment, they were all closer than they ever wanted to be in their lifetime. The living room was long, but not nearly long enough to keep the brothers from making eye-contact the moment one of them lifted his eyes from whatever he was doing. Not that the other brothers were doing anything that could be considered constructive, at least in Franz's eyes. They were all a waste of space as far as he was concerned.

Roderick, the thinnest yet most lethargic of the four, lay on the wide couch near the entrance, twirling his hair. He was hogging the entirety of it and wasn't keen on letting anyone share it. Every time Emile tried to sit down on the only unoccupied space, Roderick pulled out his prized machete. He didn't have to aim it in order to get Emile to back down. Emile wasn't the kind of person to start a fight, but was the kind of person to repeat the same methods repeatedly in hopes of getting different results. That probably was conveyed best by his overly long bangs which covered one side of his face. Craig, the most muscular in stature, sat on a chair off to the side, thoroughly engrossed in whatever was playing on his phone. He was never really up for anything unless it was leg breaking or murder.  

Franz cursed the lack of wall space for him to move around in while he was busy looking over the monthly profits of the Harman family's joint businesses. He was finding it hard to breath as his humongous girth was pushing up against the desk. His beefy arms were also having a hard time leaving his side as he tried moving to them to reach out for the slice of cake that was across the table. Food had always been his sole comfort, whether it be the chatter of his annoying siblings or the loss of a particularly profitable business venture. This denial of his sole respite only made his temper flare even more. With a great roar, he flipped the table over, sending his paperwork, a lamp, and the cake flying everywhere with a loud crash.

"Would you keep it down you big oaf?" Roderick said. "We're trying to keep a low profile remember?"

"Shut it!" Franz shouted back. "You got no right to tell me what to do. Not when I'm the only one doing anything remotely useful right now."

"Hey chill man," Roderick said without changing his tone a bit. "Why don't you just take a load off for once?"

"Well I could," Franz said through his teeth, "if you three would do something remotely useful."

"Well the rest of us know that there's always time to relax," Roderick said smugly. "Right Emile?"

Emile's one uncovered eye shifted around the room. "Uh, yeah sure. Whatever you say." He forced a smile.

Franz wasn't even remotely impressed. In fact, he believed he was past the point of toleration. Perhaps the family could do without the added weight. Ronnie wasn't much of a loss. If anything, he didn't subtract any of his frustration at all. Now that that pathetic whiner was out, the flaws of his remaining siblings were really becoming apparent.

"Well if you're not going to add anything you may as well be dead," Franz said. Without another word, he pulled out his ancient Luger from its holster.

Inevitably, none of his brothers were going to let him have his moment. Before he was even close to drawing his gun, he had a machete to his throat and a shotgun pointed shakily at his head. Even though Craig hadn't even gotten out of his seat, he had taken his eyes off of his phone. Franz new his skull would be caved in before he even pulled the trigger.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Franz muttered.

Before the air could get any more awkward, all of them heard a blip from the computer monitor. Without another word, they addressed the incoming caller. The monitor projected a distorted portrait covered in static. A tag off to the side labeled the figure as Ciel.

"I heard quite recently that you five got involved with quite the debacle in The Underground," Ciel said in a deep synthesized voice.

The three brothers backed away quickly from Franz. All of them knew what was coming next. "Uh yeah, about that ... " Franz started.

"Perhaps we were not quite clear on what you were supposed to do," Ciel continued. His voice managed to maintain eerily calm. "Perhaps you did not hear me when I told you to leave no trace behind when you left."

Franz looked back at his brothers for some kind of support. All three of them chose to look the other way. Evidently, threatening to kill your siblings doesn't net that much in the long run. "It's not our fault!" he shouted at Ciel. "If the Cleaners hadn't figured out where we were, we could have gained control no problem!"

"Please understand," Ciel said. "I am not foreign to the concept of bitter rivalries. But the fact of the matter is that you left vital pieces of evidence you have left behind during your little exit trip. Not to mention you left a family member behind."

"You mean Ronnie?" Franz asked. "What about him? He's not useful or anything."

"I wouldn't underestimate his worth if I were you," Ciel said. "Regardless of his abilities, he was present when you and your brothers made the 'arrangement.'"

"Well the Cleaners probably will be heading out to find us again pretty soon," Franz said, trying to maintain a steady tone. It proved to be difficult as the room seemed to progressively darken as the conversation continued. "It's not like they'll be able to throw a wrench into whatever you guys are doing."

"I would greatly advise you not to be so lax Franz Harman," Ciel said. "We of the top brass need the necessary foundation for our plan to go smoothly. It would prove very difficult if we had to improvise an alternative because of several oversights."

"W-well we did what you asked already," Franz said. he wasn't even trying to hide the nervousness in his voice anymore. "That disk you gave us has already been put inside The Underground's mainframe. Isn't that all you really ask from us 'pawns?'"

"You are not completely wrong," Ciel said. "However, all of your earnings shall go down the drain the moment our plan shows any possibility of coming undone."

"I can assure you that it won't," Franz said.

"I need you to swear on this," Ciel said. "Promise me that the Cleaners were the only ones with access to the mansion between the times of 6 p.m. and 6 a.m.."

"I swear," Franz said. He questioned internally why the time frame was so specific.

"Remember that the only reason you were able to take over The Underground months ago was because of our assistance," Ciel said. "And one more thing."

"What?"

"Try not to waste too many of our mercenaries this time. They're expensive."

###
Simon sighed. After the huge discovery that was the painting of blood, there really wasn’t anything fruitful that had come about from the investigation. And now the capabilities of the actual police force were put into question. How could so obvious a hint been missed by the police?

Not that he was willing to show it on his face. He knew dozens of people were watching. He probably should have spent less time on his own internal thoughts because he failed to notice Lieutenant Park approach him from behind. Needless to say, he jumped the moment Park put his hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa! Easy there!” said Park. “I just want to talk to you about something.”

“A-about what sir?” asked Simon.

“I saw you talking with that private investigator yesterday,” said Park.

“Is there anything wrong with that? I just thought he was part of the investigation.”

“He might be an investigator, but keep in mind that he’s a private one,” said Park. “He’s probably got his own interests for getting on this same case.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” said Simon. "He was trying to help, wasn't he?"

“Well, you probably haven’t known this guy for as long as I have,” muttered Park as he motioned Simon to walk with him. “The thing is, the moment the guy has a reason to care, there is no stopping him from investigating further.”

“Forgive me but I think that a private investigator is what a police force sometimes needs to track the harder to find crooks,” said Simon, hoping that his words wouldn’t offend his superior. "Y-you know. Just in case the criminal is hiding behind legal technicalities that the police can't bypass."

Thankfully, Park didn’t consider his words a challenge. “You’re probably right about that. Hell, the guy did help with a major case five years ago.”

“So why not cooperate with him now?”

“Because he disappeared during the in-between time,” Park said. “Now I try to talk civil to him, but for a guy to drop off the map only to reappear a moment later doesn’t seem normal to me.” He turned to Simon. “Do you think it’s normal?”

Simon gave the question some thought. “I guess not.”

“I just can’t help but shake the feeling that something might be off about him,” said Park. “Not to mention that the entire state has changed so much in just a few short years.” He seemed to realize that Simon was a newcomer to the setting. “Oh, you’ll get used to it after spending some time on the force. I’m sure if you ask Mark would be more than happy to shed some light on how things work around here. But as for the investigator, he’s just got his gut to follow and that's going to have to be enough for him right now."

Simon and Park were now standing outside Park’s private office. Park opened the door, though the lack of hand motion seemed to indicate that he didn’t want Simon to follow him inside.

“So I’m guessing that you don’t want me to make contact with him from now on,” said Simon.

“Until further notice yes,” responded Park as he shut the door behind him.

Simon considered the words that Park had said, wondering in his mind whether or not he should or should not trust this mysterious investigator in a coat. His superior told him no. But private investigators had always proven to be a huge help in the past. Maybe, just maybe…

“Hey there!” said a voice behind him.

Simon reflexively turned, unknowingly running into a desk. Next thing he knew, he was on the floor, his hip and left leg were in agonizing pain, and papers were scattered everywhere.

“Sheesh you’re jumpy,” said Mark, who was towering over him at the moment.

“I was deep in thought,” Simon said as he got back to his feet.

Mark laughed. “Well sorry to disturb your ‘you’ time. So what did Park want to talk with you about anyways?”

“He told me that we shouldn’t be communicating with that detective guy,” Simon said.

“You mean Vergil?” said Mark. “I honestly don’t see anything wrong with that. Us investigators have to stick together you know?”

“So did this Vergil guy really disappear for five years?” Simon asked.

Mark’s expression got slightly more serious. “So he told you about that? Well frankly I also think it’s strange. But I figured he just got up and left because of all of the exposure the news was giving him.” Simon’s partner apparently noticed the contemplative expression on his face. “Hey, easy there. One case at a time. You keep thinking like that and your brain will overheat.”

“I guess I’m just the thinker type,” Simon said.

“Just forget about Vergil and Park for the time being,” said Mark walking towards the front door. “Anyways it’s time to punch out.”

“Sorry, but with the case that’s been going on I think we can’t call it quits just yet,” said Simon. “Uh, there’s also the papers we need to fill out regarding the ‘carjackers.’”

“I know about that,” said Mark. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t drive back to do that stuff right?”

“You go on ahead then,” said Simon as he scooped up the scattered papers into a stack and placed them back on the desk where he had found them.

Mark tugged at one of his many spikes of hair. “You’re really that into your job aren’t you? Well, suit yourself. Just don’t overdo it.” Mark was just about to exit when he stopped and shouted something from across the room. “If you need a ride back to your place just call!”

“I will!” Simon shouted back.

Daylight was beginning to exit the building. There was no time to waste. It was time to get to work.

Simon reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. It’s been quite a while since he was able to take a smoke. He guessed he was just too stressed to even consider it. But now things were starting to settle enough for him to relax, just a little bit at least.