McAllen, Texas: Alisa Granite's House
It didn't take much to get the girl to tell us where she lived. The poor soul couldn't stop fidgeting in the backseat. We didn't even bother restraining her with handcuffs, she didn't look like the type to jump out of a moving car, no matter how slow we were going. Although it was a bit difficult to understand her meek and stuttering voice telling us directions to her street.
"It's that one," she says while pointing shyly at the run-down house with overgrown grass in the front yard.
"Yikes," I said, "I think you've neglected some house maintenance while trying to chase our tails." The girl only blushed at my remark, and Clyde and I got off the car with the girl in Clyde's grasp. He pulled her gently, leading her and me to the front door.
"I need to unlock the door," she whispered. Clyde kicked the door hard, knocking it off its hinges and leaving a giant crack in the middle of the cheap wood. She stood there with her mouth hanging open as Clyde welcomed himself in.
I put my hand on her shoulder, "Should've said that a bit louder."
Clyde quickly covers his nose, "Oh, this awful smell! Don't you ever clean this place out?"
As soon as we entered the house, I was greeted with the same smell. Quickly doing as Clyde did, I cover my nose, but not before realizing that this was a familiar scent. "It smells like that coyote," I said to Clyde.
He turns his eyes towards the girl, "He's here too?"
She throws her arms up and stutters out, "I-I don't know! Maybe he-he came back after he escaped! He could be in the basement or something!"
"Hey, relax," I told her. "We'll take a look around, and you're not allowed to leave from our sight while we do that. Now, why would he be in the basement?"
She breathed in deeply, "It's what he calls his hideout. He has all these clippings of old newspapers and pictures of you two."
Hearing this gave me goosebumps for a second. Does he have pictures of us? I wonder how long ago they date back. And what about these newspaper clippings? Are they supposed to have a hint of Ispio activity in them? I have to get down there.
"Clyde," I called out, "watch the girl and check this level. I'm gonna go down to the basement."
"Just keep your guard up," he tells me.
Every step I took in that house had a nasty creak that followed in the floorboards. I made my way down the hall, looking at several rooms that had their doors open. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary unless you want to count how extraordinarily dirty this place is. Disregarded chip bags and soda cans littered the entire area like some teenage frat house, except without the alcohol and bongs. Finding the bathroom made me almost want to throw up, I wouldn't relieve myself in that room if it was the last toilet on Earth. In the middle of the hallway, there was a closed door that seemed to have a lingering scent of mildew. Opening it revealed the stairway to the basement, and also introduced the new, more merciful smell of damp, rusted pipes.
It was pitch black, which gave me the excuse to use the new light-source-gadget Amelia had cooked up for the case we were supposed to be on. The Attunement Light is what she called it. I pulled out a tiny orb from my pocket, gave three clicking noises with my mouth, and gently tossed it upwards. It stopped its ascent and floated comfortably above my head, and slowly its illuminating light began to glow brightly all around. I walked down the stairs, the orb following me closely and lighting up the basement in the process. The stairs creaked as well every time my foot hit the step, and I realized how scared I was becoming. It was mostly the atmosphere: dark rooms, creaky floors, and basements will do that to you I suppose.
I passed the last step and walked deeper into the murky room. I must've strolled a little too fast as I had to wait for the orb to catch up to me. Once it did, it lit up something standing right in front of me, something that I would've ran into if the Attunement Light was any slower. It was a presentation board, and it was loaded with everything that girl said it would have. Newspaper clippings of the trials of all the organizations we've busted these past 3 years, pictures of Clyde and I walking in public (I'm guessing when we're off the clock), and there were even photos of the Hartford, Connecticut Head Quarters and the McAllen Head Quarters. These guys have really done their research.
I heard the sound of clicking and felt a strong tug around my waist. Startled, I spun around quickly and was met with the coyote pointing my own gun at me. I look down at my holster, noting that he easily unbuckled the strap and pulled the gun out in less than a second.
"Nice moves," I told him, "I'm surprised I didn't smell you coming a mile away."
That seemed to have offended him as he made a scrunched face, "Cute. Now tell me, just exactly what is Ispio's angle with all this?"
I raise my hand to shush him, "First tell me, how did you get those pictures of Clyde and I?"
A little snicker escaped him, "It wasn't hard, there are surveillance cameras all around post offices. Your H.Q. isn't any different from the rest. Okay sport, now answer mine."
I glance at the photos behind me again, "But how did you know that was an Ispio building? What gave it away?"
I heard him tap his foot from impatience, "Now that is not how the rules work. An answer for an answer. Where does Ispio get its leads from? How do they know who to go after?"
I look back at him, "It starts with a small story, a rumor if you will. Something that local folks talk about that bewilders them, something that gets turned into fantasy or science fiction as time passes. That's when we decide to look into things ourselves. Okay my turn: Who are you two?"
"I don't know if giving you our names is such a good idea. Ask another question."
"Nope, that's not part of the rules. You have to answer whether you like the question or not. What are your names?"
"Alisa Granite is the girl you took from me, she was my partner in this. Did you kill her already?"
I smile, "No, we don't kill people unless it's absolutely necessary. So what's your name?"
"Jackal," he answers smoothly.
"Jackal... what? Don't have a last name?"
"Nothing that you should know," he says while waving the gun at me.
"But you gave me the girl's full name," I protested, "what makes you think she won't give us yours?"
He chuckles, "Alisa's a real sweetheart, which is why I know that this is where her story ends. You guys take her from me, extort her for information, then kill her whether she cooperated or not. That's when I-"
"Hold it," I interrupted, "why does everyone think that we're gonna kill them? That's not what Ispio does. You make it sound like we're a bunch of assassins."
He looks at me with a confused face, "Then why are you carrying around these guns?"
"It's just for protection."
"Lot of protecting it's doing for you now."
I rub the back of my head in embarrassment, "Oh... well then."
"So where do we go from here, Mr. Hearth?" he asks while circling around me.
"Hmm... I guess now we go home."
The phrase has been uttered. The fail-safe gadget we decided to use today was a defensive piece of equipment. The grip of my gun began to spark with blue lightning, shocking the coyote with 900,000 volts of electricity. Normally this would be enough to incapacitate a person easily, but Jackal seemed to have possessed a super-human physical trait of tolerance as the electric shock only made him drop the gun to the floor. The gun broke from its one-time use of the gadget, and I swear I heard Clyde yelp upstairs. His gun must've gone off too.
"Hmph," I said, "how did that not knock you out?"
"Years of electric shock therapy will do that to you," he said, rubbing his temples as he reminiscences his past treatments.
I went for a takedown but felt a little repelled by his smell. He noticed me and stopped his massaging, stepping away from me and running up the stairs. I grabbed one of the broken straps of his straitjacket and pulled with all my strength. He had no leverage, and he quickly stumbled back downstairs and fell flat on his back. He sprang back up quickly before I could restrain him, and lunged at me in a weird fashion. His arms went out and his super-strong fingers grabbed onto my shoulders, and before I knew what he was doing, his muzzle went straight for my neck.
His teeth bit down, and I shrieked in pain as he began ripping away from me, taking my fur and skin with him. I knocked his hands away and kicked him in the stomach, effectively knocking him out of range from me. I pressed on my wound, feeling all the blood pouring out of the new hole. Jackal had fallen onto the presentation boards, making a lot of racket and plenty of mess as the board's material became undone. Newspaper articles and pictures flew up into the air, showering down on us. That's when I heard loud footsteps coming from above us, then soon after a deafening thud from the basement's door. I looked upward to the pitch-black darkness and was greeted with the door entering my field of personal light and slamming into me.
"Troy!" Clyde shouted from the top of the stairs.
"Hey," I said while trying to lift the door off me, "watch where your kicking things! Get over here and help me!"
His heavy footsteps came thundering towards me, and I felt the pressure of the door lift off of me quickly as Clyde threw it down next to his feet. He extended his hand and helped me up, looking at the papers still falling down.
"Oh no," he says while touching my neck, "what happened down here?"
I smack his hand away, "Not now, Clyde. He's still here, where's your gun?"
"It shocked me," he said with an angry grimace, "and then it broke! That gun was custom made to never-"
"Yeah yeah, built to never jam. Hurry up and get 'em, I'll go get the girl."
"Don't worry about her, she's not going anywhere. Dress your wound." He pats my back and goes to the cluttered pile, immediately finding Jackal and picking up his unconscious body. Must've hit his head on something when he fell. As I went upstairs, I saw Alisa handcuffed to the bottom of a couch. She could've easily just lifted the one corner of the couch and escaped, but either she didn't think of that, or she just didn't want to get into any more trouble. I undid her cuffs and escorted her out to the car, where I used the first-aid kit to clean and wrap my poor neck. The thing about getting transferred to an H.Q. that focuses primarily on advanced technology is that you lose the H.Q. that focused on medicine. I hope that bite doesn't leave any permanent damage. Clyde came out quickly, Jackal hanging lazily on Clyde's shoulders. He put him in the backseat with Alisa.
"This guy's got a smell," Clyde commented.
"Yeah, no kidding," I said.
*** *** ***
McAllen, Texas: Ispio Head Quarters
"Actually, putting Jackal back in the mental asylum seemed like a good fit for an ending," I explained to Marston, who had a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass at the ready. After telling him the truth about what we've been doing today, he almost had a nervous breakdown trying to cope with the fact that Ispio almost lost its incognito status. "People will just think that he's spitting crazy tales again as usual."
"Uh-huh, and the girl?" he asks while pointing at her as she sat in the corner.
"Well," I started, "I was hoping that you had a plan for her. The memory blanker could only send her mind back so far, and she's had a whole day of confidential events."
"I... I think Amelia should have an idea for this," he says while pouring more whiskey. "You boys are really something. I mean, I guess you stopped those curious folks from spreadin' Ispio's name, so no harm no foul. But this was a close one, y'all. We can't let it happen again."
"We completely agree," Clyde says.
"By any chance, you two wouldn't have an idea as to what tipped them off about us?"
My eyes widened as I thought back to the pictures of us and the clippings of the cases that we worked on. I calmed my nerves down and told him, "No sir, it's a complete mystery. I suggest that we don't look into it, not with all these cases piling up around us anyway."
Marston shoots down his whiskey, "True. This never happened. Y'all are dismissed, you can go ahead and leave the girl here."
We walked out of his office, and I caught a quick glimpse of Alisa's terrified face. The door closed softly behind us, and I could hear their muffled voices talking from behind it.
"What's gonna happen to me?" Alisa asked.
"Missy, I'm not so sure myself honestly," Marston told her.