An employee wearing stylish garb breathed a sigh of relief and went up to Vere, not even granting him a second to take in the grand and ritzy interior.
"Oh, thank god! You're here to deal with our issue, right??" The short woman clutched at Vere's chest, pulling at his shirt. Her hair was frazzled, there were black smudges all over her skin, and the whole place smelled faintly of something burning.
"Well, I can try when you let go of me. Filling me in on any details you have would also be nice…." Vere trailed off with a wink. They stood there for a couple breaths as the woman regained her composure, shooting out her hair as she attempted to speak to the detective calmly.
Yet her voice shook and trembled with every word. Vere couldn't help but notice the fidgeting behind her back, her hands held away from what she thought he could see.
"…It happened a week ago. Things suddenly started combusting, conflagrations and all sorts of things have just been occurring! It's been driving us mad…." Her eyes darted about the suspiciously sparse lobby, clear suspicion betrayed by the intense stares she would receive in return.
The tension was so thick it was palpable.
Even a cleaver wouldn't be able to simply cut through it.
Thankfully, Vere wasn't a cleaver. A yellow-red fluctuation spread from him, unseen to the people in the office as it spread across the room. It was thickest nearer to Vere, strands, and tendrils of hazy mist-like aurora flickering from the outlines of his figure. A purple light gleamed from his rightmost eye as he scanned the room quicker than they could suspect.
"Keep going, ma'am. It's safe here." A lie? Or the honest truth…it would be proved by her following words.
"I-it's…" Vere put his firm, steady hands on her shoulders. Letting her tension melt away due to the stability of his demeanor and the skillful kneading of his digits, she visibly sagged and took an even deeper breath than before.
"It's the stress, you know? It feels like a madhouse here…every day, something bursts into flames. We started to suspect each other, and now we can't help but think someone among our staff wants to kill us all…." She looked away as she bit her lip while some people winced and hissed under their breath.
The sensation of unrest became much more potent to Vere, who was using his keen eye to gauge the emotional states of the people around him. But, there was also a nagging, familiar feeling…it reminded him a bit of the Suspects he had already dealt with.
And it seemed to be coming from this room the strongest. If his current line of thought was correct…
Then your everyday person could turn into a Suspect as well. The next question would be how so? And why?
"Can you take me to where these incidents first started?" Vere asked while distancing himself. He wanted to draw his firearm, but with only one bullet left, it obviously wasn't going to be all that lethal.
At least he had some of the Evidence Armaments for insurance.
The woman nodded, fixing her clothing a bit more as she walked towards the elevator. As the ostentatious, golden doors laced with futuristic trim closed, they entered a decently sized room.
"We're going to the third floor, Mr…?"
"Vere. What exactly was the first occurring incident?" Vere leaned against the side of the walls, a foot nestled behind another as he tapped a gloved finger on his arms that were folded over his chest.
"Umm…forgive me for not being able to say it earlier. All those eyes were watching…." The woman's voice grew fainter, almost slowing down to a mumble. Vere arched a brow and silently prepared himself to act at any moment.
"It's alright, ma'am. I understand." He gestured for her to continue, cleverly loosening his joints and setting himself to explode forwards with all the force he needed.
"Do you? Do you really? The first incident was when poor Sharon burst into fire…and we killed her. Do…do you Wardens kill people?"
"…"
"Hey…HEY?! ANSWER ME?! IS IT NORMAL TO KILL PEOPLE?? You Wardens claim to protect the populace…but what makes you better than THEM?"
"…I think you might be mistaken. I'm not here to answer your questions or give you fake sympathy. I'm here to do my job, so are we gonna tango or not?"
The woman was fully turned around at this point, and heavy waves of thought power fluctuated from where she stood as the elevator shook and rumbled. Tongues of flames burned upwards and singed the ceiling, and as she turned her head, her face was charred entirely black.
Long, barbed fangs dripped saliva down onto the ground as her body hunched over forwards. All the screams she made were relegated to the blaring sounds of a trumpet, flames spewing out of her mouth as her charcoal-scarred flesh desperately tried to mimic more human qualities.
But it couldn't. It lacked eyes. It was like someone cut off their face and singed the remaining flesh entirely. Only those brass, dripping fangs remained, and they were more evocative of a feral bear.
>Incited Suspect identified. Tier II Burnt Trumpeters…there are many readings. Detail Gained: (Incited Suspects), (Fire), (Association with JJ&R). Case Understanding Lv 0 -> Lv 1.
As the flame tongues battered against the walls where he once stood, Vere leaped upwards and clung to the ceiling of the e elevator. The bizarre Suspect bounded towards him with the wild trumpet noises and even wilder flames but always seemed to be just short.
The elevator wasn't left untouched by its wild outrage, however. There were no such things as suspender cables anymore, but the alternative wasn't much better. The rapid movement in the elevator caused it to trigger its emergency response, locking it in the shaft before someone would come to fix it.
Leaving the elevator itself nearing the third floor yet not entirely entering its range.
Meanwhile, Vere kicked and darted about the elevator as the complex alloy of metals began to melt under the frenzied assault of the Burnt Trumpeter.
Flames licked along the ceilings and walls, forcing Vere to get down from his vertical position and directly engage the Suspect.
The flames formed a ringed circle of hungry fire. As Vere locked his gaze onto the Suspect, he settled himself into a rhythm, his breaths synching with his movements.
The smoke and cinder tickled his lungs at first but were swiftly forced away by an influx of thought power. The fancy, ragtime-like footwork he had engraved into himself via muscle memory permitted sudden, theatric dodges that kept the veritable flamethrower that was his opponent guessing.
FWOOOOOSHHH!
A large gust of flame gushed out of the gaping, fanged maw of the Burnt Trumpeter, causing all in its line of sight to be coated with a molten, bleeding shade of orange and red. Vere, however, wasn't caught up in the onslaught.
Black scales formed in swirly patterns over his arms and hands, sidestepping and sauntering along the Suspect's blindside. Before the Suspect could realize it, Vere swiftly chopped at its neck with a hand that was held flat and taut.
But this wasn't enough for Vere to dispatch it; as it fell to the floor, it rolled around while expelling even more significant quantities of flame. Vere wasn't one to stand still, though, planting a firm foot onto her writing form and dodging the frantic rays of flame that melted the elevator walls even further.
[Mamba].
With a thought, his thought power surged towards his hands and enveloped with a pearlescent membrane. Black scales slid over and replaced the flesh of his hands, hiding the scars temporarily.
Meanwhile, the tip of his fingers became edged—like talons. Vere jumped and brought his knees together, slamming down onto the Burnt Trumpeter's stomach as its spines cracked and collapsed under the 6'4 muscular man's weight.
His hands swiped at the constant flame and kept it at bay as a subtle stinging sensation began to protest in the back of his mind. Then, with his free hand, he rained down pummeling blows onto the scarred, charcoal face, ripping out the fangs as black tendrils of Authority thought power fueled the violence even further.
>Gained Details: (State of the Elevator), (Weird Groove)
He occasionally looked at his surroundings as he kept up the onslaught, not letting the Suspect up for even a second. Yellow-red Conspiracy thought power resonated as a conspiracy board materialized behind his head, along with a grin as his lips upended.
>Suspect neutralized.
His SAD informed him, allowing him to enact the plan he cooked up on the side. Darting to the side and avoiding the flames that danced all over the place, he connected the sticky notes on his board.
>(State of the Elevator)——(Weird Groove)——(Fire) Check! There's a connection…
A hunchback tolled the bell, and a purple light met with the yellow-red illuminating the groove. Vere quickly drew his revolver, spinning the chambers as he shot his last bullet.