FicWad

The two Frecks staggered through the door of 131 Night End, completely exhausted.
“Remind me to get prints from the police lady tomorrow,” Kaylee murmured.
Alvin responded with something that sounded close to “Whurr,” and staggered up the spiral staircase to his room. Kaylee trailed after him. The house was disgusting, but she’d have to clean it later.


__________________________

Alvin jolted awake after a sparrow ran into his window. It was seven thirty-one in the morning. He’d gotten approximately two hours of sleep. Knuckling his eyes, Alvin groaned and rolled onto his back. Already his mind was racing, leaving him behind. It was a slight side effect of his schizophrenia medication, and he found it made him work harder. Lying silently in the dark, Alvin realized that he wasn’t getting to sleep anytime soon. Slinging his feet out of bed, he dropped down onto the floor of his bedroom. His bed had been built onto a loft, a stand-alone sort of style that had been popular twenty or so years ago and had been his father’s room when his father was his age. The climb between the bed and the floor was wonderful for dealing with any sort of pent-up energy, and many late nights had been spent bouncing back and forth between the thick oaken platform and the rugs on the floor. However, the loft bed was not the best sort of arrangements on morning where Alvin had trouble sleeping the night before, and led to some very painful morning awakenings.

Creeping down the hallway in the same clothes from last night, Alvin knocked gingerly on Kaylee’s door.
“Argh. Nahlow?” Kaylee didn’t bother to open the door. Assuming it was indeed his sister and not a talking gargoyle, which it sounded like, Alvin informed his sister of where he was going.
“I’m going to get prints of the crime scene.”
Silence.
“And then...perhaps...see that chick you hate?”
Still silence.
Alvin knocked again. “Kaylee, you still kicking in there?”
A snore. He had attempted to keep his sister in the loop, but ultimately failed. Alvin shrugged and continued down the hallway.
Stopping in the kitchen to take another dose of medication, Alvin grimaced at the taste. He didn’t mind it so much when he was out of it, but he could practically feel the blue dye seeping into his tongue.
The crimson front door closed behind Alvin with a friendly boom as he ran to catch the next elevated train.

___________________

Police Headquarters was located in the heart of the city, on King’s Row. The building was made of sandstone, a yellow, windowless, monolithic box surrounded by blue pansies. Alvin strolled through the doors, and was almost immediately pulled aside.
“Hey, kid, what’s the big idea? You can’t show up during daylight hours!”
Alvin blinked. “Excuse me. I didn’t know whatever god-awful time this was counted as daylight hours.”

Alvin willed his eyes to stay open long enough to catch a good look at the man who had pulled him aside. The man was so blonde his hair looked white, and well-built, with a hard nose that twisted right from a possible bad break. He also had an iron grip. Alvin tried to wiggle his wrist out of this man’s hold without him noticing. “Would you stop squirming? I’m just around the corner,” the man told him.

Opening the door with his left hand, Alvin was forced inside with the man trailing behind him. “Can I get a name? Last time I got stuck with a fellow I didn’t know, I got kicked in the face,” Alvin said, rubbing feeling back into his wrist. The man breezed past him and sat down in a well-worn leather chair behind a battle-scarred desk.
“Sorry. Sam Spade. Homicide Detective. I’d shake your hand, but I really need to smoke,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a squashed pack of cigarettes and a zippo.

Alvin seated himself in a hard wooden chair on the other side of Detective Spade’s desk. “Do you work for Commissioner Adler?” he asked.
“If you can call it that, sure. You want a drink?” asked Spade, reaching into a desk drawer. “Not before noon I don’t,” said Alvin. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, you Bluenose. Hey, can you even drink, with the pills you’re on?” Spade asked, dragging a hip flask from the far reaches of the drawer. Alvin glanced away, pushing his tongue around his mouth. “Can I get some of the crime scene prints? My sister and I have been called in as consultants.”

“Oh yeah. That. Should have them somewhere,” Spade said, gulping down a swallow from the flask and reaching into a pile of paperwork on the corner of his desk.
“We found the name of miss Jane Doe. Hold this, would you?”
Alvin was intrigued. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Name was Elizabeth Lavenza. Cousin to some bigwig scientist. Tooth was hers, at least. Most of the blood was hers, too,” Spade shook the flask, and Alvin took it, holding it away from his body. Spade proceeded to pick up a battered yellow folder and pull a few black and white photographs from it.
“Here you are. Give back the juice, though, the way the case is going, I’m going to need a lot of it.”

______________________

One elevated train ride later, Alvin tucked the crime scene photos into his sweater. His feet glided over the cobblestones, head spinning. The Ropeworth district was a safe haven for any new immigrant or religion seeker. The air smelled burned, a mix of incense and sage, undercurrented with the harsh, acidic tang of powerful magic. He wasn't here for religion or magic. Just a practicer.

Alvin skirted around a building covered in a mix of yellow and orange paint and up a narrow flight of stairs that dead-ended into a concrete wall. Bracing one hand on the wall, and his other hand on the side of the building, Alvin shuffled upwards slowly, feet moving to take the place of where his hands had been. Eventually his fingers curled around the lip of a window, and he hauled himself up and through.

Jin’s apartment did have a door. Alvin just chose not to use it. Picking locks got boring after a while. Besides, he liked climbing. And this time, he’d sneak in unawares.
Landing nearly silently on the wooden floor, Alvin glanced around at the bottles and heavy books written in languages he didn’t speak. Jin’s study was empty, and Alvin straightened up, sticking close to the walls. His sweater brushed against the glass of the bottles, and a floorboard creaked out in the hallway.
“Got you.”
Stepping quickly around the corner, Alvin grinned, sure of his victory. His face fell almost as quickly as his spirits.
“You again.”

‘You Again’, as noted enthusiastically by Alvin, was Gideon. Gideon was Jin’s protector, a Rhakim-Soled, bound by blood to protect a Maegi girl. Rhakim-Soled were popular in Abaiyan, and those who travelled across the Pearl Sea often brought hordes of protectors with them. Gideon, however, did not share the almond-shaped eyes and broad cheekbones of the Abaiyan’i. He was wildly blonde and tall like a willow tree, unwilling to bend or break, and cursed by unlawful use of magic to remain mute until death. Gideon also carried a red-hot streak of hate for one Alvin Freck, which managed to make itself known despite never having been vocalized.

“Is Jin here?” Alvin asked, sounding resigned already.
Gideon raised his eyebrows.
“I want to talk to Jin.”
Gideon spread his feet wide enough to fit against the walls of the narrow hallway.
“Don’t be a child, Gideon. I just want to talk to her. Police business.”
Gideon folded his arms, jutting his jaw forwards. Alvin was not to pass.
“Look here, baby grand, if you don’t get out of my way right now, I’ll-”

“Alvin? Is this you?”

Gideon looked over his shoulder, then back to Alvin. His upper lip curled into a sneer.
“Well? Move it, pal. Lady wants to speak to me, myself, and I.”
Gideon stepped aside slightly, giving Alvin the narrowest space possible to move through. Alvin smirked as he slipped past, knowing he had won.