A Link In The Chain

[Keeley Saunders]

Dec. 17th, 2018

8:30 a.m.

 

The body was a mess.

 

That was the first thing Keeley took notice of as she approached the crime scene. It'd been tapered off by the police though from what she could tell it looked as if ARMA would likely be handling the investigation. Aside from the fact the scene was located only a couple blocks from an occult shop in Omenwich Square — a place where she didn't often get called for work — there were signs of magic radiating off the body. She was merely an altered human, and her sensing of magic was not nearly that of a Magus, but it was enough to give her a clue this wasn't a normal murder. Not that she would've called it normal even if magic hadn't been involved.

 

This man had been tortured. His face was barely recognizable as if someone had taken brass knuckles to it, his hands were swollen, the nails had been ripped cleanly off on some fingers and on others were torn up as if he'd been clawing at something — the skin peeled away at the tips. The prints were scorched off and she wouldn't be surprised if his teeth were gone too. As she looked over him, she noted that his knees had suffered some intense damage and looked to be twisted at an awkward angle. . . and his neck well that was too. Weirder though were the scorch marks on his clothing that seared pieces of fabric into his chest.

 

Clearly this guy had been put through hell, but she wasn't sure why or who he even was. . .

 

Ignoring the crowd, hoping they'd be able to get them further back or disperse it outright, she went about doing her work. She had a little bit to do before she could declare it fine to move the body.

 

The weather at least was cooperating. Snow had quit a couple hours ago, and there wouldn't be any rain to deal with today. The only irritation was the wind which could cause some minor issues.

[Wesley Evans]

Dec 25, 18 years ago

 

Candor, NC 6:45 am

 

"Ry Ry!  Get up!  Come on!  Let's go let's go let's GO!"  Nails on a chalkboard in the form of an excited child's voice removed Wesley from his Christmas morning slumber.  Before the sleep was wiped from his eyes, or his Spiderman slippers were aligned on his right feet, the boy had already broke off into a full sprint; socked feet struggling to keep Wesley Ryan Evans upright as he picked up speed along the hardwood floor.  Over the Super Nintendo controller chords, through the partially cracked door, down the hallway, over the aging White Persian in the dead center of the hallway, and past the actual entrance into the living room where the Christmas tree was.  Slim, short arms waved backwards as if Wesley was trying to backstroke back to the doorway and, once he came to a skidding stop, the boy pivoted and grabbed hold of the nob for support before running into the room, chest heaving with anticipation.  Upon immediately realizing that everything he was looking at was a blur of in discernable colors, Wesley let out a loud groan before rushing back to he and his brother's room and shuffling through his covers for his glasses.  Now armed with the tools needed to truly experience Christmas the boy ran back to the living room and, to the dismay of his older brother, dropped into a baseball slide that took him straight to the center of the presents surrounding the bottom of the tree.  

 

Boxes fell all over the both of the boys, causing them both to laugh hysterically while tearing into the bounty.  It wasn't long before their parents were awake and watching the show thanks to how loud they had become.  The laughter and jokes and automated toy sounds died down however when Wesly got to the smallest box in the room with his name on it.  The packaging wasn't done by his mom, so it was little more than newspaper wrapped around a box with an over-abundance of Elmer's glue and duct tape.  Kyle dropped what he was doing and paid attention, a warm smile growing on the boy's face.  "Go ahead man, what'd you get?"  he asked in a knowing manner.  This caused Wes to glance back at his parents for a moment before looking back to his brother.  He didn't see one of similar size marked with his brother's name, so naturally he expected foul play.  This was a joke present.  A trick!

 

"Come on Kyle... it's Christmas."  muttered Wesley.  It wasn't often that the two brothers spent time together without fighting or teasing, and Wesley didn't want to ruin such an important day.  Kyle's smile never faded, he just raised his left hand up, and placed his right over his heart.  "I promise man.  There's no catch here.  Please, just open it."  Another look to his parents resulted in his mom smiling in a way that made it seem like she was nearly in tears, while his father nodded.  Finally, Wesley ripped the present open to see... a medal.  Kyle's medal.  His first ever.

 

"...I don't understand."  Wesley looked back to his brother who was already sidling up to him by scooting across the hardwood floor on his pajama pants.  "Anytime I think that I'm not good enough to do something I remind myself that I won that medal when I was the youngest, smallest kid in track.  And I know you're not into sports and you're shy and stuff but...  I just want you to have this so you can learn the same lesson I did.  You can do anything you want.  You just have to want to badly enough."

 

 

December 17th, 2018

 

Wesley rubbed a thumb across the face of the gold medal in his hand before clasping it tightly in his palm and stepping out of the taxi.  Wesley could do anything he wanted to, if he wanted it badly enough.  And lately, Wesley wanted to find those responsible for the bombings that took away the most important person in his life to him.  And he would only be slowed; not stopped.  They could hide, but they couldn't run.  

 

Snow crunched beneath Wesley's feet announcing his arrival to the crime scene ahead of him calling out to Keeley.  Which was fortunate, as he wouldn't have bothered calling out to her anyway.  He would have simply begun fact-checking the John Doe to see if anything about him lined up with what he was looking for.  For one thing, he was mangled beyond recognition, and intentionally so.  No one wanted this man tracked back to his associates which was a lead in and of itself.  Now, without even knowing his identity they knew he was affiliated with their bomber somehow.  At least Wes' eagerness to catch the bastard convinced him so.  Curiouser however, was that the crime scene reeked of residual mana.  Spells were used, either by a full on magi or an especially experienced altered human.  Possibly elemental, judging by the burns in the chest.  A brief sensing cantrip revealed more mana in the chest region where the flames were most concentrated.

 

"Huh... are they using magic to kill these guys to frame us?  I sense the most mana right... here.  Thinking he was burned alive via magic.  I've got no way to test his body for accelerants like gasoline, but these burns make it look like a direct burst of flame hit... here.  Wouldn't need fuel if he could simply mentally focus the flames where he wanted."

 

Wesley let out a loud yawn before reaching into his jacket pocket to remove a honey bun, which caused the people around the two investigators to cringe at the idea of eating while standing so close to such a horrific sight.  Wesley peeled the plastic from the bun and dug in, groans of pleasure distracting from Keeley's work.  "Bwefist o chmpions, amiwight?"  he mumbled, mouth full of pastry.  After swallowing down his breakfast he sighed and shook his head at the corpse before him.  "It's sad, really.  I should feel bad for this guy but all I can think right now is... he's lucky they got to him before I did.  This?  This is... this is child's play compared to what you're gonna be cleaning up when I catch these guys.  That's uh... privileged info by the way.  Not something Mr. Greene needs to hear repeated."

[Keeley Saunders]

That was a voice she recognized immediately. Interactions with Wesley Evans of ARMA had been sporadic since that day he showed up in her morgue making demands. She'd felt bad for him though. He'd been searching everywhere for his brother; living a life of denial that she recognized all too well. He thought his brother wasn't dead — was positive of it — while she was sure that he was wrong. Yet he wouldn't be able to open his eyes until something concrete was put in front of him. A missing body? That didn't help matters. They hadn't recovered bodies, or even parts of bodies, from all those lost at the sites of the bombings. It wasn't unexpected either. She didn't have to help him, really shouldn't be, but Keeley felt bad for him. She knew what it was to desperately hope for something to turn out differently.

 

"Bwefist o chmpions, amiwight?" 

 

A stern look was passed to him.

 

[keeley]You spit crumbs onto my crime scene and you'll be the one feeling bad.[/keeley]

 

Another look was given to him; this one cold and no-nonsense as she shook her head. Placing a few samples into evidence bags.

 

[keeley]When you catch these guys, you'll do nothing. You're not some dumbass vigilante. You're ARMA and you follow the law. Murdering people is against your code, right?[/keeley]

 

She wasn't playing either. If Wesley started murdering people — criminals or not — she'd go to his superiors so fast he wouldn't have time to blink. Keeley worked for the law; she wasn't down with murder. Even her own actions against her husband had been in self-defense. What he was talking about was a different story altogether. One she couldn't condone whether she felt pity or not.

 

[keeley]And I don't think they're trying to frame anyone.[/keeley] She glanced down at the corpse as she spoke, [keeley]Looks more like torture and cover-up. Not even sure who this guy is really. Won't be able to give you anything solid until we get the body back to the morgue and I can do an autopsy.[/keeley]

 

She raised her gaze again, standing fully, as she eye-balled Wesley.

 

[keeley]Do you want me to send that report to you or should I send it to Mr. Greene?[/keeley]

 

There wasn't any requirement for her regarding privileged information. She didn't work for him.

 

Gloves were removed carefully as she motioned to let it be known that the body could be moved. A look was given to him as she approached, moving away from the crime scene just down the sidewalk.

 

[keeley]You look like hell. Been sleeping any better?[/keeley]

 

In truth though? Keeley doubted he was sleeping much at all. She'd patched him up at the oddest of hours. He was going to run himself down on this particular mission. That wouldn't do any good either. . . for him or his possibly-still-living brother. All she could do was hope that he'd take a break. Stopping near the window of an ice cream shop, she turned to face him. She wanted to talk to him here and not up by the others.

 

[keeley]You need to stop being reckless. I wasn't the only one there that could hear you. And I will not risk my job cause you decided to be an idiot.[/keeley] Her voice was a strained, angry whisper. She glanced around them again then back at him, [keeley]I could barely make out anything about that crispy corpse, but you seemed to have your suspicions. Who exactly do you think I'm going to I.D. with my tests?[/keeley]

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley's eyes slowly cut towards Keeley, without a hint of surprise or fear.  He, after all, knew what her response to his earnest proclamations of malicious intent would be.  It's why he resigned himself not to argue with her about it, lest it tempt her to tell the authorities before the deed could be done.  And he had many a dirty deed to do.  Still, he almost felt obligated to say something defiant and flagrant.  Simply pretending that there was nothing he'd do to find his brother made his stomach turn.  His priorities were reversed.  It should unnerve him that he could turn his back on his morals so easily.  It should tear him apart simply having the thoughts that he was having; thoughts of vengeance and vindication.  It didn't.  Still, what Keeley said about vigilantism and murder being something he would not do jogged his memory of a conversation with Kyle, as so many of the things in his day to day did nowadays.

 

Then...

 

The two Evans brothers exited the theatre at the tail end of the crowd, walking at a leisurely pace so that they could speak candidly without drawing too much attention to their silly conversation.

 

"Man, all these super hero flicks are the same."  groaned Kyle as he tossed his half-full Special Edition Batman holo-foil stadium cup overhanded into a trashcan.  Wesley, with cat-like reflexes, grabbed hold of the cup before it entered the bin, resulting in Fruit Punch HI-C spilling over onto his wrist.  "Whoa!  Hey, that's a collector's item!  Geez..."  Completely unphased by the drink spill Wesley shook his hand a bit, his smile never fading as he glanced back and forth to his now matching collector's items:  one Batman cup.  One Joker cup.   

 

"I mean, how many times is he gonna let that clown run rough-shod through the city killin' dudes before he realizes that death is the only solution?  Just Dim Mak his ass and be done with it.  No more Joker Gas-induced deaths with creepy-ass smiley faces.  Right?"  Wes stopped marveling at his cups long enough to turn and look back at his brother, his face that of genuine disbelief.  "Oh my God, are you serious!?  He's the hero, he knows better than to cross that line.  You kill one person and you can never take that back.  It'll change you."

 

Kyle rolled his eyes and walked ahead a bit before turning to his little brother and shaking his head in disagreement.  He laughed while crossing his arms before him.  "So you're saying he'd be torn up about 86ing Bozo the Clown because it was what... against his code... but doesn't give a damn about all the innocent people he's allowing The Joker the opportunity to kill every time chooses not to finish him off?"

 

Wesley face-faulted.  As a fan of all things super hero he pondered the logistics of the Heroes Code often.  If murder was wrong, then no one should do so.  Ever.  But when taking life was the only guaranteed way to protect life, there was a paradox.  The killing should be justified.  That, or one had to resign themselves to being responsible for the loss of life that comes later.

 

Now... 

 

Wesley sighed.  He needed to stop focusing on the past and look toward the future.  How he's going to find his brother.

 

Find his brother.  He wouldn't use the word 'avenge', even in his thoughts, as it implied a finality that he wasn't ready for.  Wesley closed his eyes and tilted his head while placing his right palm on his neck causing a slight pop as he stretched.  "Right."  he answered her.  Humored her, rather.  As she continued speaking he gave the corpse another once over, and her words seemed accurate.  She was good at her job.  At least better at reading a scene than Wesley was.  "Yeah, guess you're right.  No framing here.  Just wish we'd gotten to him earlier."  His mind raced with possibilities as he tried to put together a narrative from the image before them.  At the mention of Alistair Wesley waved his hand to stop her in her tracks.  "No!  Anything remotely useful about this case goes through me first."  It was obvious that he wanted to find the culprit before anyone else could.  Painfully so.  When Keeley questioned his sleeping habits the ferromancer rolled his eyes.  "No time for sleep."  he deadpanned while following her.  Why they were heading away from the crime scene, he did not know, but he had a hunch he was in for more lecturing.

 

Keeley did not disappoint.  She chewed him out about his reckless behavior, which he tried to put up with... and probably would have managed to do so successfully were it not for the fact that he was exhausted and irritable already.  "Fine mom.  I'll keep my mouth shut about my plans for our bomber."  The ARMA knight reached into his jacket to reveal a manila envelope.  "As for putting a face to this mangled corpse... I don't... I dunno.  Everyone I've liked for a suspect I've tailed and confronted save for a couple o' the names in here."  The envelope consisted of mug shots and personal information on  two leads he had not confirmed yet.  

[Keeley Saunders]

[keeley]So do I. That way you could interrogate him at HQ.[/keeley]

 

Her words were purposeful. Pointedly assuming that he meant they'd gotten to the guy first in order to lawfully interrogate him, and not in the way that Wesley probably meant. Being reckless wouldn't serve any purpose. Of course, he didn't see it that way — yet. Keeley was dead set on making him to in the end though. Even if it meant betraying him by talking to one of his superiors.

 

"Fine mom.  I'll keep my mouth shut about my plans for our bomber."

 

Staring at him in clear frustration, she hissed, [keeley]Yes, just keep quiet. Don't re-think the wisdom. Have you lost your mind?[/keeley]

 

Irritated, she reached to pull the envelope from his hand. Opening it carefully to slide the contents upward, and out, enough for her to peek at them. None of the faces were familiar to her, but that wasn't a surprise. She'd not expected them to be. What she needed them for though was for what would come later. Internally she debated the wisdom of even doing this for the man. Sympathy, and understanding, was hard not to have for him. She understood what it was to want to protect the only member of your family. In Resonance plenty had suffered the loss of loved ones. She'd nearly lost her own child more than once now.

 

She'd even killed to protect him. . .

 

Of course, that had purely been self-defense. What Wesley was fantasizing over was outright murder. It would make him no better than the criminals. A point she'd made often when reading comics to her son, or watching comic book movies with him, when he'd ask the obvious question 'Why didn't the superhero just kill the bad guy?' and she'd point out that the superhero knew he'd be as bad as the villain. It was a point her son got well — most children seemed to easily understand deeper matters when they were explained and discussed — though he wondered if Wesley would. She wouldn't be able to get through to him alone. That she knew for sure.

 

Right now though the choice at hand would provide him with information. At least, what information she chose to give him. Either way the case was a crime that needed investigating to the best of her abilities and her ability was literally the best. After staring down at the photographs in consideration, Keeley finally came to a choice.

 

She'd see what was seen then determine where to go from there.

 

With a heavy sigh, she sealed the envelope and thrust it back into Wesley's hands.

 

[keeley]You'll want to come to the morgue with me. I. . . have a way to find out more information.[/keeley]

 

She didn't state what that way was outright. While Wesley was a magus, and she knew that, he didn't have a clue that she was an empowered human.

[Wesley Evans]

As they walked Wesley side-eyed Keeley each time she attempted to rewrite the narrative of their conversation.  She was hearing what she wanted instead of what was being implied heavily.  He said he'd keep his plans to himself.  That meant he had no intention of changing them and he would still see them to fruition, whether or not anyone heard his warning.  When she hissed at him he literally bit his tongue to avoid making more smart-assed remarks.  Losing his mind?  Maybe he was.  They could run tests to find out after he finished his work... but only then.

 

"You know they say insanity is doing the same thing over and over, only to expect a different outcome each time.  Gotta wonder if I'm really the crazy one for being fed up with it.  Slapping people on the wrist instead of making an example of them to deter others like them."

 

Wesley took the envelope back from Keeley and agreed to follow her back to the morgue.  His heart sank at her request as he could tell that something was being hidden from him.  Or perhaps that was just his paranoia again.  Regardless, he did as she said.  The trip to the morgue was silent for the most part, until Wesley broke the silence with more justification of his actions.

 

"I don't have to be.  Better than this, I mean.  I always wondered what that meant when they tried to justify the fear of killing... in movies and comic books and the like.  Like you get a golden star placed on your soul at the end of the road.  Like someone's going to reward you for allowing murder to go unchecked.  If every soldier on a battlefield held the same kind of cowardice you're preaching we'd all be pledging allegiance to her majesty the queen right now.  Or a fuhrer."

 

Silence for a moment before Wesley decided to place a big exclamation point at the end of the rant he'd just made.  "If there truly are things worth dying for then... then that means there are things worth killing for.  Killing in self-defense is justifiable.  So is killing to protect people.  And I can't think of a more permanent way to keep a bomber from bombing other than this.  Sorry not sorry."  It was an over justification.  An imprisoned threat is no threat, provided they remained imprisoned.  This wasn't about punishment or protection.  Those were just words used to help Wesley hide the fact that as angry as he was, he just might not be able to resort to murder right when it came down to it.

[Keeley Saunders]

Frustration was eating at her. She was beginning to see that this magus was a possible hazard. Not just to herself, but to others. The fact that he was still in the field and not being supervised was even more worrisome. She’d heard about the dangers of rogue magus before — everyone had — and while Wesley Evans was part of ARMA he was acting just like one of them. Running off, doing what he wanted, talking about serving vigilante justice that bordered on the edge of turning him into an outright murderer instead. Keeley was helping him cause it was her job, and partly cause she felt bad for him, but she was slowly starting to regret it. Clearly he needed the kind of help that she wasn’t qualified to give him.

 

"I don't have to be.  Better than this, I mean.  I always wondered what that meant when they tried to justify the fear of killing... in movies and comic books and the like.  Like you get a golden star placed on your soul at the end of the road.  Like someone's going to reward you for allowing murder to go unchecked.  If every soldier on a battlefield held the same kind of cowardice you're preaching we'd all be pledging allegiance to her majesty the queen right now.  Or a fuhrer."

 

She did her best to keep quiet as he went on spouting his logic to attempt to justify his reasons for being a cowboy. Tried to just continue onward toward his ARMA issue vehicle up ahead. Going off on him would achieve nothing and she didn’t want to create a scene. As they came near the back of the vehicle, he went too far though.

 

"If there truly are things worth dying for then... then that means there are things worth killing for.  Killing in self-defense is justifiable.  So is killing to protect people.  And I can't think of a more permanent way to keep a bomber from bombing other than this.  Sorry not sorry."

 

Keeley came to a halt, rounding on him quickly and slamming a finger pointedly into his chest.

 

[keeley]You are not a soldier. You’re nothing more than a glorified cop. Your job is to uphold the law not run around breaking it, and there's absolutely no justification. If there was then any cop whoever fired a weapon unprovoked cause ‘they would’ve done blah blah eventually’ is justified by your poor, bullshit reasoning.[/keeley] She drove her finger against his chest again for good measure as she went on, [keeley]You want to prevent a bombing? You do it the right way. You want to grieve? Then find a better method than some idiotic vendetta that’s going to end up with your badge taken away and you being tossed in a cell in New Alcatraz. Cause if you do this? You’re no better than the people who justify bombings the same way you justified killing. And if that’s the case then you deserve to be in prison.[/keeley]

 

She didn’t raise her voice, but her words were hard enough to make it clear that she was pissed. Taking a breath, she lowered her hand back to her side and glared at him.

 

[keeley]I will help you. That’s my job, and I don’t have any evidence you’ve broken the law — yet. But I swear, Wesley Evans, if you continue to act this way I will go to your boss. I will tell him every damn thing. So I suggest you get your head on straight, and start acting like a man of the law instead of a cowboy.[/keeley]

 

She rounded the passenger side, yanking open the door and slipping into the seat. The door slamming shut to make her point. Whatever else he said, Keeley resolved that she wouldn’t say another word to him until they reached the morgue. She might have to do her job and help him, but she didn’t have to talk to him while he went on like some madman. All that she’d heard about ARMA was that they were supposed to be better than the organization they’d split from in the first place. That the people working for them were supposed to be better. So far she was learning that was as much bullshit as Wesley had just spouted.

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley stared into Keeley's eyes without emotion, as if what she was saying was going right over his head.  He allowed her to continue, even after poking his chest... until she claimed he was the same as the culprit behind the bombings.  The bomber... or bombers, killed innocent people who could at some point become a threat to them in their eyes.  Wesley was going to take from someone who took away from him.  To prevent them from hurting anyone else.  Unfortunately, she couldn't stop giving him the business long enough for him to correct her.

 

It didn't matter.  He just needed her to do her job long enough to get him what he needed, then he could stop humoring her.  His job?  That was replaceable.  Taking that away from him meant nothing if he could find this guy.  His badge?  He didn't need a badge to give him his title.  He was the Fullmetal Magus.  The badge didn't define him, he defined it.  They couldn't take away who he was.  What he was.  By divine right he was supreme ruler of all things ferrous.  The Mighty Metal Manipulator.  The Master of Technically Not Magnetism.  Sorcerer Supreme ala Marvel's Doctor Strange... but a little more Motorhead and a little less Depeche Mode.  Though admittedly, his emotional stint recently has been more Dashboard Confessional than anything...

 

...regardless, Wesley knew what was really important, and even if they managed to take away his magic, he wouldn't give up.  They'd have to kill him to stop him.  Which would only further prove him right.  That eventually you had to finish things.  No more second chances.  

 

He'd waited until they were on the road already before his mind started racing again, spewing insults at the woman mentally.  He said nothing, but the occasional glare back to her spoke a thousand words.

 

Look.  I get that you're still convinced that if we try... if we don't lose what made us human in the first place, life can be the same as it was before the Nevus.  Before the dead walked the streets. Before people turned into lunatics who howled at the moon.  It won't.  Survival nowadays isn't as simple as keeping your head down, following rules, and letting the police handle this stuff.  You wouldn't understand as a Reggie... that's a regular by the way.  It takes more than just impressive tricks that come with magic.  Someone like you could never understand what it means to take a life.  Let alone the responsibility that comes with these powers.  For fuck's sake, you're a mom.  Your life before this was as simple as doing your wifely duties one night outta the week, and minding your kid, which you seem to have done a GREAT job of so far.

 

As Wesley thought about it, he realized his thoughts were more mean-spirited than he'd intended.  Maybe what she was saying was getting to him more than he anticipated?  Regardless, he maintained his composure by keeping quiet for the rest of the ride and focusing on the endgame. Learning what he needed to continue his mission.

[Keeley Saunders]

By the time they returned to the OCME Main Office, Keeley had begun to calm down. The drive was a long enough one that it gave her time to clear her head though not too long. In a world before this one the traffic of NYC would have made it take forever to get back, but not in this new world. It also helped that Wesley seemed to not push her further, but instead chose to respect that she was done talking to him. For now. Of course, the tension was still thick enough to cut with a knife. The vehicle with the body had gotten back before them. Once inside one of the morgue rooms, she shooed out any others in the room along with her assistant with the order to fetch a healing magus then unzipped the body bag.

 

A cursory examination of the state of the body on its metal slab was given before she sighed.

 

[keeley]I’m going to ask you to go outside. To close that big metal door. You can watch through the glass if you want. . . it’ll protect you.[/keeley]

 

She glanced up Wesley now, an intense look in the eyes that met his own, [keeley]No matter what you hear or see do not come inside. Not unless you see me signal you or. . . unless I collapse.[/keeley]

 

She’d collapsed before. Lost consciousness as well.

 

Died even.

 

She was hoping that this body wouldn’t bring on a result that severe though. Enough of an appraisal was given to make her feel confident that would be the case.

 

Once Wesley had left the room, and she heard the heavy metal door close behind him, Keeley took a deep breath and turned back to the body. She didn’t look to see if he’d chosen to stand at the glass window and observe. Honestly, looking at anyone when she was about to do this only made her nerves worse. There was always some anxiety when about to do this especially given the times she’d died or nearly died. Drawing in another breath for fortification, she let her mind relax as she began to hum the tune that seemed to set her off from the first moment her ability had shown itself:

.

 

The song had played a lot on the station played at her old job, and it was one of her husband’s favorite songs — they had even danced to it at their wedding — but now was just an unwanted reminder and a song that she could not sing or hum often anymore. Partially she was grateful for that limitation.

 

[keeley]Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream,[/keeley] One beat, two beat, three beat, four beat, [keeley]Make him the cutest that I've ever seen. . .[/keeley]

 

One beat, two beat, three beat, four beat.

 

Eyelids drifted shut, lashes still against cheeks, as she hummed to each of the beats.

 

[keeley]Give him two lips like roses and clover,[/keeley] Another four beats as she felt herself slipping from her surroundings into that of the man who laid dead on the slab in front of her, [keeley]Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over. . .[/keeley]

 

Keeley could see the haziest of images, hear the distant sounds of footsteps, and smell cleaning solution faintly. She was almost fully encompassed by the hold of her ability.

 

[keeley]Sandman, I'm so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own. . .[/keeley] A breath released, another drawn in before her lips parted for the last part of the chorus, [keeley]Please turn on your magic beam. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dre-[/keeley]

 

An anxious gasp of air drawn sharply into lungs though outwardly she looked calm. As if asleep or in a tranquil trance. At first anyways, until one took notice of her fidgeting hands; fingers of right hand picking at skin and nails of the other in a clear display of nerves. Keeley knew they weren’t her own though. . . they were his. . .

 

Josh walked through a foyer that smelled of bleach and pine and showed signs of newly waxed floors. His sneakers squeaked over them, making him flinch each time, until finally he reached the stairwell. His steps were slow and quiet, but tension riddled his body and he picked at his nails, and the skin around them, nervously as he went up each flight of stairs. There was a bag over his shoulder. . . heavy enough that it was dragging down his shoulder and making it ache. The building held remnants of having once been fancy and designed with top notch materials, but presently showed signs of heavy repairs. And he was climbing up, up, up. . . until stepping into a hall and pushing aside plastic sheets as he went down the long hallway that smelled of odor eliminator. Freshly laid carpets. He stepped into a room, placed down the bag gently, unzipped it, and pressed some buttons then high-tailed it back the way he’d come. . .

 

Keeley’s face contorted, feeling emotions in Josh that didn’t align with someone intent on cruelty. She could see him as he blended into the people on the street outside; the way he looked back and around him repeatedly as if afraid of getting caught though not for any reason that made sense to her with the sensations crawling under her skin.

 

Josh stopped, pulled out a non-descript cellphone and pressed the speed dial. The only number on the phone. The only number to have called it. He gnawed on his lip until it started to bleed as he walked just a little too quickly. Slamming into some man and babbling an apology.

 

[npc]Watch where you’re going, you fucker![/npc]

 

“So-sorry. . .” He stammered out, shoulders drawing inward as his back hunched a bit, and finally the distorted voice came over the other end of the phone, “It’s done. Please, can I. . .”

 

Brows drew together, downward more, as she caught just how off the voice on the other end of the phone sounded. As if the person was using something to change it. Her lips moved as she whispered aloud to the empty morgue the words she heard.

 

[keeley]If you want to see them, come to the docks in an hour. Make sure you’re not followed.[/keeley]

 

And then, suddenly, her words were followed by a scream as the nails on her hands started to bleed. Hands hovered out in a stiff position at her sides, arms bent at the elbow as if against the arms of a chair, as one of the nails on her right hand was slowly being ripped at by some unseen force. And then another cry as body jerked and her left cheekbone caved in. . .

[Wesley Evans]

The magus raised a brow at Keeley's peculiar wording.  Not at the implication that whatever was going to happen in there was going to be unseemly and particularly offputting for the squeamish... but the implication that it would be unsafe.  That he needed protection.  He figured that there was some type of noxious fumes that come from newly embalmed corpses or that removing him from the room before performing her work was necessary to avoid getting him in trouble with ARMA's higher ups, as he was after all not exactly working this by the book.  There were potentially cameras behind those huge doors.  Wes rolled his eyes and backed away from the entrance to allow Keely to close it in front of him before letting out sigh.

 

Boredom set in almost immediately.  By the time Wesley had finished glancing around the room and counting the tiles beneath his feet (and bemoaning the fact that some of the tiles were placed in a way that the designs on them faced sideways rather than the same direction for all of them, which was a pet peeve of his) chose to lean against the wall and immediately began to nod off.  Finally, he had been forced to sit still, and his body was using this brief respite to grab hold of that ever elusive REM sleep that Wesley had been depriving it with a mixture of energy drinks, coffee, and long nights trolling the city for answers.  It had even gotten bad enough that he abstained from taking his pain medications in fear that he would become comfortable enough that he'd fall asleep, losing out on time he didn't have to waste.  That, and when he did sleep he saw things that he would not wish on his worse enemy.

 

Time passed.  Nearly five minutes passed before the ferromancer jolted awake, frightened awake by the other thing that was keeping him from stopping to get a good night's sleep.  Images of his brother staggering forward in pain with flailing arms; tongues of flame curling into the sky before fading into black smoke.  He felt the heat on his face as his brother gripped hold of his jacket, blood-curdling screams ringing in his ears as he begged for help.  Wesley blinked his eyes as tears welled up before spilling out briefly before he wiped them away with his right arm's sleeve.  He coughed and looked around him for anyone that may have mistakenly seen him lose composure.  Seconds later he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

 

 He walked forward and tilted his head to peer into the window (after wiping his face once more) only for his eyes to widen in surprise.  Keeley was fidgeting, screaming even.  Instead of stepping inside he looked around the room through the glass.  He called her name before banging against the glass once, then twice.  His words were falling on death ears however, and he knew that whatever this was wasn't some psychotic break, as Keeley's warning prior implied that it was something that she knew was going to happen; something that was controllable at least to some degree.  Whatever was happening was mystical in origin even without Wesley attempting to sense out the source.  That's what the magus assumed at least.  It was after all a catch-all excuse to anything in this world that exists beyond our ken.  This was what the warning was about.  Keeley was protecting Wesley from what ever it was in there doing... what ever it was doing, to her.

 

The worried young ARMA agent slowly backed away from the glass and calmed himself as best he could.  It was the first time in weeks that he worried about anything other than the mission, and while he was concerned for her safety, he was still concerned with whether or not what was happening in front of him was going to interfere with Keeley helping him.  He couldn't afford to wait for her to recover from a self inflicted injury.

[Keeley Saunders]

The banging on glass went unheard except by the people who approached Wesley: Keeley’s assistant who’d been in the room prior and a young man who looked agitated. They’d heard the noise as they came close to the morgue, and knew that what was happening beyond the glass was unpleasant even before they came in view of the scene.

 

"She won’t be able to hear you until she’s out of. . . that. . ." Alana, the Coroner’s Assistant whom Wesley had treated like a secretary once before, spoke quietly from her spot next to him; gaze locked on a trembling, crying Keeley who was mouthing words they could not hear.

 

Keeley’s body jerked again and Alana shook her head with a glance to the nervous man next to her. He was the healer; a meta not a magus who had healed her before. It never got any easier.

 

"This is going to take. . . Oh God abo-"

 

Alana’s gaze had moved back to the glass just in time to watch Keeley’s shirt and chest start to be burned.

 

In the room, Keeley was being burnt; head thrown back and mouth opened in a scream that eventually turned silent as the pain choked off any sound. Back arched as she struggled against invisible restraints, and she watched the man, Josh, do the same.

 

They were burning him with magic. Someone’s hands were an inch from his flesh; skin melting and burning, and the smell foul in the room. He could feel himself being cooked and it was sheer agony.

 

[npc]“Tell us what we want to know, Josh. Who did you tell?”[/npc]

 

Josh knew what they wanted. The problem was that he hadn’t told anyone. It’d all been bravado. An attempt to get proof that his family was alive. It didn’t work. It wasn’t as if he knew anything to tell anyone or he’d have gone to the police. He just wanted his family.

 

Some part of him knew that they were dead already. . .

 

The fire got hotter, he screamed; jerking around and trying to free his arms from the chair they were tied to — to no avail — as suddenly something struck his knee.

 

Keeley cried out, right knee giving out and body drooping on one side. She didn’t fall though, as if held up by a force that couldn’t be seen. She was trying to get a glimpse at the men doing this to Josh, but she couldn’t see what he couldn’t see. And something wasn’t right with their voices. The burns were getting more severe; she could smell burning flesh the way that he could and it was making her sick.

 

Outside the room, the healer ran for the door and Alana ran to stop him.

 

"No, no. . . if you go in there you know what’ll happen!"

 

"If it means she won’t suffer as much it’s worth it.”

 

While they were fighting, Keeley was trying to survive the agony that was happening to just get something more. Something that would help. She tried to listen now; for a sound that could help. Nothing though. The pain was too much.

 

[npc]"Kill him. He’s lying.”[/npc]

 

A voice ordered, this one female and not distorted like the others, but it wasn’t one that Josh knew. Blindfold was removed only to reveal mask covered faces and the full sight of what was happening to his chest. He gagged, struggled harder now. The woman was too far away; lost in the shadows of the warehouse.

 

Josh shook his head, begging now, “I’m not. . . I’m not. . . I told the cops. I did.”

 

The woman gave a harsh laugh then walked out. The sound of the door closing sealing his fate. One of the men’s hands came toward his neck.

 

[keeley]NO![/keeley]

 

The word wasn’t her own, it was what would be Josh’s last words. Keeley ripped herself free of the recall just before the large hands would snap the man’s neck. She crumpled to the floor. Knees and face broken; fingers bleeding not just from the ripped out nails, but from scratching at the chair’s arms they were tied to. . . and her chest a mess of burnt flesh.

 

Lying there, she whimpered in pain.

 

One thought crossing her mind as she fought against the urge to pass out from the pain, Fucking hell, why do I keep doing this?

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley's breath was rapid now, beyond hyperventilating.  He was watching someone else he had exploited suffer from his search for vengeance.  First Alec was placed in a predicament that would likely get him in trouble with whatever superiors he answered to... now Keeley was killing herself just to help a man who had disrespected her and her colleagues find someone else to kill, which she was sternly against.  It wasn't right.  And something else that wasn't right was the fact that all of these thoughts were secondary compared to the fear that clenched at Wesley's heart.  The fear that if she died he would be back to having no leads at all.

 

"No.  Nononononono you don't die.  Don't you dare.  Don't.  You. Fucking.  DARE."  each word was accented by a hard slam of his palms against the glass.  He stopped doing so once a familiar voice startled him from behind.  Wesley turned to see Alana again, followed closely by some young man he had never met.

 

"...how the hell many secretaries does she need?"  he thought.

 

Alana warned the man next to her of what would happen if they stepped inside, which caused Wes to wonder briefly if it was something a skilled magus could endure.  He had to risk it.  He pushed at the door, ready to manipulate the metal lock so that he could enter unhindered, but stopped dead in his tracks with an audible whimper escaping his pursed lips.  Wesley's eyes watered and tears spilled over his cheeks almost immediately.  The smell.  He could smell flesh burning.  There was no way he would ever mistake that smell.  Not anymore.  Not after the bombing.  

 

Keeley's screams couldn't be heard, but Wesley had an earful of burning civilians in his mind in her stead.  The people he failed to save.  The brother he failed to save.  

 

"No..."

 

Wesley's walking cane dropped to the floor with a loud clatter as he placed a hand over his mouth and nose as if it would stop the scent.  It was as if he were a fledgling mage again, as his powers began responding to his emotions despite his years of experience separating emotional triggers from them.  The metal in the hallway began splintering, or hovering, or disintegrating in response to Wesley's erratic mind.  Tears continued to fall as one particular scream grew louder and louder in his head to the point that all others were indiscernible low rumbles.  It was then that he heard his own name called out in pain.  Again, the voice of his brother begging for aid.

 

It was only Keeley's scream and fall to the floor, which somehow resonated with Wesley despite the fact that he could only hear Kyle's moans of disdain, that cause the door to finally snap at it's hinges, with the locking mechanism practically exploding and swinging the door open.  Wesley dropped to his knees and grabbed hold of the convulsing coroner despite the pain in his side.  

 

"Come on... come on it's okay... We got you.   We got you."  He didn't bother to explain the look on his face.  She likely didn't notice in her state of pain induced delirium, but  Wesley prayed that she understood that she was safe now.  Wesley counted to three and on that last count lifted up with a loud groan.  The male secretary came to his aid so that he wouldn't drop Keeley, but after getting her elevated Wesley placed his left arm under her legs despite the damaged knees and scooped her up before shuffling over to one of the examination tables that corpses were placed on during autopsy.  Not the most comfortable of places but she needed medical care immediately.  "911.  Hurry."  Wesley wanted to help Keeley for going so far to help him, but taking her to be healed by ARMA mages wasn't possible.  She would be tempted to reveal Wes' secrets too early and as guilty as he felt, he wasn't about to give up yet.  Not yet.