Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Hearth and Barker Residence
(19:12 Hours)
I return home after stopping by multiple locations. My feet ache, but my hard work and research had paid off with some promising leads. I can't wait to tell Clyde. I glide through the main entrance, giving a small wave to the desk clerk that was tapping away on her phone. I reach my room and give the knob a try. It's unlocked.
"Clyde?" I call out, "You home, pup?" I peek inside, noticing that the lights were off. Clumsy dog must have left without locking the place up. Too dangerous to do that, considering the tech, gadgets, and weapons we leave lying around in their hiding spots. You never know if we might actually get a cleaning lady going through here. "Silly pooch." I enter the room and kick off my wedges, welcoming the comforting texture of the carpet, even though it was grossly stained.
A moment later the door opens and Clyde walks in carrying a brown paper bag. "Hola, la Femboy," he greets.
"Hola? Didn't realize you were part Chihuahua. Did you notice that you failed to lock the door behind you when you went out to get slammed on the job again?"
His face twisted in bewilderment. "That's not true. I made sure to lock up before taking off. Anything missing?"
"I don't know, I just got here myself. I've also got results, but we'll form a plan after we do a quick sweep of the place."
"Yeah, last thing we need is a bugged microphone picking shit up. I'll get the scanner, you search our inventory."
I nod my head and begin searching through the backpacks and suitcases. All my clothes had already been neatly hung inside the closet, while Clyde's was still a mess in his duffle bag. I pull out the small chip squished between the mattress and box spring and activate it. It opens its top part and lets me see into its shrunken inventory. All guns and gadgets are still tightly sealed in their high-tech hiding spot.
"All gear is good to go. Anything on the scanner?"
Clyde had an eye patch/scouter-looking thing on his eye while he was looking around the room from top to bottom. Anything foreign that hasn't been logged into its system with a serial code would be highlighted, letting us know if someone's placed a piece of technology in here without us knowing.
"So far it's clear. I know Amelia said this was a prototype, but does it gotta be so damn blurry? Oh wait- I see something! In the vent."
Quickly I fetch a screwdriver and begin undoing the screws holding the metal grate in its place. It pops off, and my patience begins to diminish when I saw that it was a small bottle of bourbon with a sticky note under it. I get both the bottle and the note, which read, "For the goodest boy in Ispio."
"Clyde, seriously?"
"Aw, for me!? They really shouldn't have," he says with a smug smile and lazy eyes. He begins to reach for it, but I pull it away from him, stuffing the bottle in my pocket.
"No! No more alcohol, dammit! Time to focus."
He sits down in a nearby chair with a heavy slump. "Fine, fine. What did you find while you were out there?"
"Glad you asked. I believe there's more information in the things that I didn't find."
He sits up straight. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that he wasn't on any of the public surveillance footage that I recovered."
"So what? He's Archer, he's never seen in public. Super Ninja, remember?"
"True, but he's in a wheelchair now. Not even he could manage to pull that off. Unless of course... he's staying in one spot and having his units do his running around for him. The second thing I found out was that his units are heavily active around here. I guess the closer we are to him, the bigger his defense. I found out while having a nice chat with a group of people at a bar."
"Wait, they just... told you they knew about Archer? Your charisma is paranormal, Troy."
I bow. "Thank you. So, what did you do while I was gone?"
He stares blankly into the space above my head. "Oh! We got mail."
"We got mail?"
"Yeah, sent over by S.H. Tech. Don't know who that is though."
"S.H.? May I see the letter?"
He goes to the table and picks up an opened envelope. "Here ya go, it came with a package too."
"Oh! S.H.! Samuel Hearth, my father." I read the letter aloud, "To the members of the NEQ1 unit, 2 shipment(s) of the new product: Steel Pill."
"Wait a minute," Clyde says perking up from his apparent tipsy state, "your father makes gadgets for Ispio? I was wondering why he needed an entire fort to protect himself."
"Duh, he's partnered up with Ispio and their Advanced Systems department. Why else would he need all that protection?"
"I don't know, it's just been bugging me ever since I laid eyes on that base."
"Then why didn't you just ask me?"
He stops talking and just stares again. "I don't know."
"Jesus, Clyde, how much have you had to drink already? No, don't answer, I don't wanna be disappointed. Look, it's already past 7:00, how about we just wrap up this day with reconnaissance being the result? Deal?"
He nods with a silly smile pulling on his lips. "Deal. Hey, I bought you some wine since I know you don't drink what I drink. Wanna stay up and watch bad movies tonight?"
"Really? You don't sound very motivated in capturing Archer."
His face gets serious. "Oh no, I am, Troy. But Archer's dangerous, you never know what could happen. Either to me... or to you. It just seems like a good idea to learn to enjoy a bit of life instead of always being so serious. I should know, I'm always serious."
Is that why he's been acting so casual lately? I've always known Clyde for getting things done in a timely manner and having as little fun as possible while doing it. His stoic behavior seems to have vanished since the attack in McAllen's Field Medic campground. It was a time when he and I were separated, and he had no idea about the danger I was in until later. He actually cares. He's actually scared...
"Okay, we'll watch movies. Can you pour me a glass of wine while I slip into some sleeping clothes?"
"Gotcha' covered."
*** *** ***
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Unknown Location
(01:01 Hours)
The dark room looks just as uninviting as it did the last time. The monitors were shut off, and instead, the headlamp hanging ominously from the ceiling was switched on, only managing to dimly light up the room. The table in the middle of the room lay covered in papers and maps, all pieces of the plan that Archer had formed in his state of misery.
The door opens up as the same visitor pokes his head in to greet his friend in the wheelchair. "Sir."
"Come in, Chief," Archer whispers almost inaudibly. "Have you carried out the first phase?"
"Aye, Sir," he says while joining Archer at the table. "When does the feeling of nausea go away?" he asks, rubbing his belly in a soothing, circular motion.
"Oh, Chief... I don't think it ever leaves you..."
The visitor looks down in disappointment. "Right. No man deserves comfort after committin' such a heinous act. I hope it's worth it, Archer."
Archer's tired eyes skim over his plans scattered on the table. "Sometimes I wonder the same thing. It's no life to live. I could've had everything if I was just content with where I was. I wanted more, and I ended up with less."
The visitor steps back to give his friend some space. "Sir?"
"Please, don't give me your pity. The only thing I want is to survive. Help me survive."
*** *** ***
"Mom, Dad, you remember my partner, Clyde? I've got good news: we're going steady!"
I'm suddenly woken up by Clyde shaking me furiously until I snapped out of my dream.
"Get up, Troy! We gotta go!"
"Ah! Okay! Stop thrashing me!" He lets me go and I fall flat on the bed again. I look at the clock sitting on the nightstand. It read 03:16. Three in the morning? That's not a lot of sleep. "What's going on?"
"There's a homicide crime scene to investigate," he tells me while strapping on his holster with his beloved gun cradled inside.
"A crime scene? Clyde that's not our department. Let the local law enforcement deal with it."
"You idiot, I wouldn't be waking you up right now if it didn't have something to do with us."
Idiot? Guess he's all sobered up and ready to work now. "Okay, okay. Lemme put on some pants."
*** *** ***
"Oh boy," I say, straining myself to not throw up. The detectives weren't kidding when they said it was a gruesome sight. A man lay dead in the road, his face cut off to show his meat underneath the skin. Then the skin that was cut off was balled up and stuffed into his mouth. Sickening. "How does this involve us again?"
Clyde takes a picture of the face. "The detectives found a calling card on the body. No random thug goes through the trouble of doing all this to a body AND leaves a calling card for us to find. That's something a serial killer who wants to get caught does."
"A calling card?" I turn away from the body, unable to handle the sight anymore. "What does the calling card look like?"
He presents a plastic bag that he had been carrying in his hand. It had a card in there, a simple white background with text scribbled in the middle of it. "H & B, you did this," he reads to me.
"H & B?" I ask.
"It's not hard to put it together, Troy. Hearth and Barker. It stands for Hearth and Barker. The only reason we're here in this city is to catch Archer. He already knows we're here. I don't know how, but he does. He's saying that we're the reason that this person's dead. It's a warning: if we keep looking for him, there's a high chance that more will die in his wake."
"Goddammit! He's always gotta have one above us. What do we do?"
"We stay," he says, his voice resonating a bit of hatred. "We keep on his trail, and we don't make mistakes. A mistake could cost someone their life. I've already ran the evidence to Amelia's forensic department, I'm expecting results quickly with the lab they're running." A ding comes from his pocket, he pulls out his phone and opens up the new message. "They've already got something."
"What is it? DNA? A chemical? A lead on a location?"
"No. It's an aroma."
I scratch my head. "A smell? How's that even possible over the phone?"
He looks at me. "It's not over the phone. It's through their advanced forensic device, try to keep up with today's gadgets."
"Well go on then, what's the smell and how will it help us?"
"It's a blend between marine winds and floral scents. While you were out gathering info, did you happen on a place that could have this type of blend?"
I think about it for a moment. After the book store, I went to the subway station to pull some footage, then I went to a cafe, after that I found the bar... Oh! "Yes! There's a floral shop next to a pet store. The marine scent must be from their fish section. I passed it on my way to the bar."
"Great! That either means that our victim had been there, or his killer was there."
"Guess we'll find out once we get there." I yawn and stretch out. "But can we go back to sleep? We only got an hour's rest after turning off the t.v."
He groans impatiently. "Fine, it's probably for the best that we stay alert and awake. But we're losing time."
"Beauty sleep is just as important as solving a case."
"No it's not," he mumbles under his breath as we walk towards the car.