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Dark Corners

I stare at the little black book in my paws through half lidded eyes, smoke wafting up past my muzzle. After lifting this very object from the coat of a dangerous mobster and copying it down into an identical book, which was then left with Dominique for her to take to Yates, I haven't been able to stop looking at it. There are names in here of people that I know. Some that I know really well. I never would have taken them for the type to throw in with the mob.

Then again, I've thrown in with a gang that could be considered more dangerous than the mob. To each their own. I'm not proud of what I do, just how well I do it.

But the thing that bothers me, the thing that I didn't copy into the book that's probably in The Fang's claws by now, is the card that was in the back. The card that has a name that I wasn't expecting, more than anything else, accompanied by a title that got Zachary to gasp and fall silent enough that I can't even feel him rooting through my thoughts. It's like he's become as paralyzed as I feel, only shifting enough to move my smoke and tip back a swallow of whiskey from time to time.

Vincent Carter, District Attorney.

"I don't know what we did to piss off the lady upstairs, Zachary, but it must have been pretty bad." I don't have the wherewithal to speak to the other ringtail solely in my head. I talk out loud to myself enough that my neighbors won't bother me about it. I'm still in too much shock to much care, honestly.

And to think, you lifted his wallet and he treated you like he did. You think he actually recognized you and just didn't care? I can almost see the other ringtail sitting cross legged in the space in my head, which of course translates to my mind projecting him onto the floor next to me. Around the bend doesn't really cover hallucinating, does it?

"Maybe. I know I let my act slip up once or twice that night, and you certainly didn't keep it up that morning." I scowl at him and sip my whiskey again. "But just because I'm a thief doesn't mean that I'm the responsibility of the DA. Maybe he only has a grudge against organized crime."

That would make a bit of sense, I suppose. I almost wish you would have looked more through the wallet to see what that bit of important information that he left there was. The fact that a mobster has his card is worrying to me. And the ringtail does look worried. The fur over his eyes is creased inwards and his dark gray eyes are cloudy.

"I have the feeling that Alan Giovetta isn't exactly loyal to his family, but we have to consider two options." I snap the book shut and toss it onto the floor in front of the incorporeal cacomistle. "Option one: Carter ain't as straight laced as everyone believes and he's being a hardass on the grunts for the mob, but not the heads of it. He could be working with them and getting paid under the table to clear out their opposition. It would explain the kind of dosh he had on him."

I don't get that kind of vibe from him.

"Buddy, the only vibe you were getting from him was under the tail. Let's not let a touch of lust cloud our mind." I cough once. He glares at me. "Disregarding that, we have option two, the one that I'm also leaning more towards. Alan knows he ain't got what it takes to cut it in his family so he's tryin' to bring them down around him. Got in touch with Carter all quiet like and was going to start feeding him information, bit by bit. It would explain that weasel's nerves."

I'm just saying that Carter seems on the up and up overall. My attraction to him aside, which it should be because you were flirting with him too, he is either an extraordinary actor, or more likely he has a genuinely good heart. I'm generally a pretty good judge of character. Haughty and stuck up as he is, I can tell that he's not wrong about himself. I also have to give him the benefit of the doubt, because I was flirting with Carter a bit too. I cough again.

I do have to correct him, though. "Yes, well you ain't exactly the expert on what happens down here in the gutter, are ya?" He looks away, then eventually shakes his head. I puff a cloud of smoke at his apparition. "Tha's right, I am. An' I can tell ya matter o' factly that just 'cause he's got a good heart don't mean he ain't dirty either. Take his predecessor, ol' Bones. One o' the most upright fellas this side o' the country, but he was dirtier than a farmhouse stable. I don't think there was a gang in the city that wasn't funnelin' some money into him to keep their big wigs outta jail. Sure, they'll offer up some of the low down, worn out thugs that roam about to keep up appearances, but tha's how the game is played these days."

Zachary's eyes widen as he looks back up at me. You can't be serious!

"Dead serious, bucko. How d'ya think he was able to retire to the tropics? DA's aren't paid that well. I'm pretty sure they get a bonus for big cases, but that's kinda what the buy off is for. So that none of those cases end up happening. 'S also how the DA can guarantee he ain't gonna randomly get a bullet through the head when he ain't lookin'. At least the Fangs kept a few people of their own on him for protection. I think the Giovettas might have as well, but I don't know for sure." I ash my cig into an empty beer bottle and sigh. "But we can't rightly confront Carter about it without revealing ourselves. With either option, talking to him about it is a huge risk."

And with either option, your "job" isn't possible, unless you're going to kill him. I can feel him bristling at that thought.

So I cut it off before it becomes something that I really don't have the energy to deal with right now. "I ain't a fan o' that option, and I like 'im enough that I don't think greasin' 'im is gonna be part o' the deal. Pretty sure Dom knows that too. But I will say this: Dom is my first priority aside from myself. If it comes down to one or th' other, you sure as hell ain't gettin' in my way from savin' that vixen, capiche?"

I can immediately tell he doesn't like that. In fact, I can even feel his displeasure with the idea. But he knows that we need to work together. He even suggested it, originally. I can't rightly argue with that. Though please be aware that I will be suggesting other options at every step along that path, to make sure you aren't just taking an easy way out without making the effort for us both.

"Good 'nuff for me. So, what, you think we should swing by early and see if he's game to a reschedule, or stick with Dom and shadow him to flesh more of this out. Neither really looks too appealing to me."

Nor to me. I admit, I am a little biased towards seeing him again in a more friendly setting than following him around out of sight, but that may not be a better course of action at this time. I tilt my head to the side to look at his ethereal eyes. They're hard, but thoughtful, as I would expect my own to be. Perhaps he isn't so different from me, aside from where we came from. Perhaps some independent reconnaissance is in order?

I shake my head, then tip more whiskey into my muzzle. "I can stalk like a real predator, but I ain't as good at pulling information out of the air as Dom. I'd want her ears around if we're going out 'n about. If y'need somethin' lifted, I'm your ringtail. She's got me beat in actual spyin'."

Damn. Zachary stands and starts pacing and I just let my eyes follow his ghostly form. Damn it all. And I have to work within the bounds of this world. Ugh, what I would do to get my lab back.

I narrow my eyes at him as I drop the near burnt out butt of my cig into the beer bottle serving as my ashtray. "What good would that do? A lab sounds rather sedentary. Seems counterproductive."

He shakes his head without even turning to look at me, though his tail sways a little faster against his black slacks. It would help me focus, for starters. I'm having issues with that after everything I've seen in here. But more importantly I could recover some tools that would assist in espionage. I did this very activity often enough, but always with my alchemical assistance.

"I'm sorry, alchemical? Now I ain't much of a science whiz, but I'm pretty sure that's some ancient tech right there. Old voodoo an' black magic style o' whacked out and debunked, in fact." I stuff another cig in my muzzle and light up. "An' while I'm no brainiac, all them potions an' reactions an' shit don' sound like they'd be much help here."

He shakes his head and I watch his shoulders slump. The differences between our worlds, I'm afraid. That knowledge is the only thing that ended up saving me, albeit in the state you see.

I feel my eye twitch. "Buddy, you ain't makin' a lick o' sense right now. No no," I wave off an explanation. "I don't rightly care about whatever it was that you used to be able to do. I need to make sure ya got the focus you need to not distract me when I'm workin'."

I should be able to comply with that. You're fairly used to my insanity by now, I'm sure. You've been dealing with it for several months, after all.

I snort at him. "Hardly. I'm used to you, barely, but whatever else is in there with you is frankly creepy. The more you can keep me away from it, the better. I don't need more blood on my paws."

Neither of us do, my friend. Zachary turns back to me and comes over, sitting close enough to cross his arms on my chest and put his head down on them. It's disconcerting to see his image do that, but feel no weight. But I fear that we may come out of this far more scarred than we are now.

There's a haunted quality to his voice, and to his thoughts I notice. Whatever it was that he did, that he's been through, I hold no further doubts that it's as traumatic as whatever I've done that has left me with sections of my memory as blank as I can make them. Instead of scrubbing his thoughts, he's got the voices I thought were my punishment. With our powers combined, we should be committed.

"Ain't nothin' worth doin' that's easy, Zachary," I mumble, resting my paw where his leg would be on the ground.

Does that mean this is worth doing because it's hard? I get a flashed image of blood splattered paws flitting through my head before we both cringe.

"We both know it's not that simple." I shudder and work twice as hard to keep crimson stained memories from seeping out. Something about having Zachary in my head makes me almost want to deal with all of that. Maybe we could handle it together.

Or maybe we'd both break even more.

I can only hope that I don't end up with another hole in my life when this is all over. Or, y'know, a hole in my head.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Once again, the weight of my gun is one of the few things that feels right on me. At least this time, Zachary agrees that it's a necessary precaution. I don't trust anything the Fangs will tell me anymore unless it comes from Dominique. After creeping around town with her the past five days, even she's getting a little fidgety for my liking. I have to work twice as hard to convince myself that I trust her to even come close to any semblance of calm.

Meanwhile, Zachary goes through every memory I have with Dominique, and I don't mind his meddling this time. He wants to understand her like I do, and I encourage that because she's a grade A dame. Top marks without a doubt.

Would "the Boss" go after her family to ensure her loyalty, maybe? The image I have of the ringtail is him sitting on the ground with massive photo albums strewn about around him. I don't want to incriminate her, but that is a liability. She definitely loves you, but she loves her blood relations more.

While this is true, I have my doubts. Honestly, I think the Fang Boss might be scared of her too. I doubt that he would go that far, for fear that she would simply take out the upper echelon of their leadership in revenge. Artemis knows she could do it. I eye the vixen in question as I follow along behind her, still on our little recon mission. She's as quiet as I am as we approach the building that we staked out previously. But it's always a possibility, however unlikely.

It's an odd feeling, perceiving two of yourself. While I am most definitely still stalking along with Dominique, watching for anything new that we can learn about Vincent Carter, District Attorney, I am also sitting in that blank space in my head with Zachary, poring over my memories that he's dragged out.

Most definitely. I do not want to leave any avenue unexplored with this, because, well, I'm selfish. He looks up from the pictures in his lap to smile at me. Though I'm quite sure you'll forgive me for it.

And I do, because the truth is that aside from Dominique, I haven't had much company that I can actually level with because of my work. Everyone in the slums has at least heard of me, and if they haven't they've heard rumors of a pickpocket who was picked up by the Fangs. We have our own culture out here, segregated as we are from normal society, but gangs are just as feared here as they are elsewhere. Maybe even more so. And that's left me a bit lonely.

My mind is far from lonely with the other ringtail and his voices there. We both have to endure and ignore them from time to time, most likely due to us actually getting along and inadvertently growing closer. This, in turn, makes us grow closer still because of the shared experience, like a pair of squad-mates returning after a war.

So there's a certain bit of affection between us. He has me at a bit of a disadvantage, because I know that he's seen some of the things I've blocked out, but I have little to no idea what happened to him to cause him such mental instability. That being said, he's straightforward when I ask questions and is more than happy to share. Zachary is very obviously encouraging of anything that he thinks will help improve our station in life. And apparently, he believes Carter to be our primary ticket out. I'm not sold on it, but it definitely is possible.

Well, I certainly appreciate your thoroughness. I reach over to pat his leg, since I can actually interact with him in this strange place. After we have our date with Carter, I think one of us should swing by Dom's family, maybe even propose a way for them to get out of town with her if she decides to skedaddle. I think... if that happens, we may want to stay behind to make sure she doesn't get followed.

I watch sandy ears snap back against his head in surprise. Really, Kota? I nod, my own ears tipping back. I would think you'd want to go with her if she left. After looking at all of this, he motions to the pictures strewn about around him, I wouldn't even hold it against you. You two are as close, if not closer than I was with... my ex-wife. His head tilts down at his own memories and I see them displayed behind him. Long nights poring over notes interrupted by a more slender ringtail, transitioning into shouting matches, then suddenly cut off with a crack and the smell of sulfur.

I blink. That's a remarkably detailed memory. But I don't push him about it. Trust me, I would if I could. But we're in a terrible line of work and if she wants nothing more to do with it, the last thing she'll want around for much longer is me. Her family will help her heal, then she can find a nice tod in another city. It's better in the long run.

Dominique flings an arm out in front of me as she skids to a halt at the end of an alleyway. I glance up and her ears are twitching about, as if trying to tune in on a signal. "Hold on, something... something isn't right." Her muzzle tips up and I see the black nose on its end wriggle as she pulls in the scents around us. "His scent is too weak here. He's gone off his schedule, then. Shit," she curses, kicking at the asphalt. "Split up. We need to find him quick if he's gone off his normal schedule. That means we may get something good."

I nod, my internal conversation put on hold. "Standard 'I go this way, you go that way' deal? If you get in trouble, you know how to signal me." We exchange nods and I give her a quick nudge to her muzzle. "Be safe, Dom. Meet at my place tonight."

She flashes me a nervous smile, then dashes out of the alley and out of sight. "I have a bad feeling about this, Zach," I mutter as her tail flicks around the corner. "And that means that we're probably in a bad crime movie."

Or at least something equally as cliched. Hey, at least you're not a P.I. Then something terrible would be about to happen to you. I can't help a smirk. But I share your sentiment. He followed the same schedule every day down to the minute. A deviation could prove to be very bad indeed.

I tug a smoke from my inner jacket pocket and turn out of the alley in the opposite direction of where Dominique disappeared to. After lighting it, I wander down the street, effecting a little bit of a shamble to better fit in. It's been a quiet morning, too. Unnaturally so, if I were to be so bold to say.

My ears stay perked and cupped backwards as I trundle along, eyes surreptitiously flicking through every shadow to make sure there aren't any unpleasant surprises waiting for me. After just a couple blocks, I decide a detour is in order, and Zachary agrees with me. We're getting nowhere out in the open. There's enough other people wandering that it's impossible to be discreet.

I know just the route. I glance at the nearest cross street and grimace. 19th and Yosler, where the beginning of my fiasco started almost a week ago. There's definitely some significance there. I don't like how this feels. Any of it. And yet, despite that, I slide into the next alley as smooth as can be. Thus obscured, I dash down it and find the sturdy drainage pipe that I use to get up to the rooftops. Being one of the few climbers in the city, I can at least be reasonably sure that I won't run into anyone else up there. Also means that few people really ever look up.

Which serves our purpose quite handily. Good thinking. The buildings here are all around the same height. You've done this before? I can almost feel Zachary's presence at my side, peering up the pipe even as I put my paws to it and haul myself up. Well, obviously you have.

Kinda had to. Been on my own for long enough. Had to find a few places where nobody would find me. I pull myself up over the lip of the roof and scan the various buildings around me. A quick jog over to the streetside of the two story building shows me that, as I suspected, nothing is out of the ordinary. A pawful of people mill about on the sidewalks and in the streets, absent any of the loud vehicles that can be seen in more wealthy neighborhoods. No sign of Vincent Carter. Nor any of Dominique. As we suspected, at least.

Understandable, I suppose. Though I must ask, where do you think he may have toddled off to? Zachary's apparition appears beside me and I turn only my muzzle to regard him.

"If I were him, I'd go somewhere crowded and easy to observe, if he thinks he's being followed. Noisy, too, in order to cover conversation if needed. A bar, perhaps," I muse, rubbing at my chin. "I don't know him well enough to say that without doubt. Let's have a look around the neighborhood."

And so that's what we do. I let my tail trail out behind me for balance as I dart and hop across the barely uneven rooftops. With each new block that we cross into ontop of wires or via risky leaps, I stop and reassess my surroundings. Zachary stays quiet for the most part, only making comments here and there on things that seem out of place to him. He knows to defer to me when it comes to this by now.

Defer he does, bending to my greater knowledge of this side of the city. But despite the search of the streets, even from above, we uncover nothing new. The sun dips lower and lower in the sky with each block covered and still nothing new arises. The scents muddle, the sights stay the same, the sounds are all subdued. There's still no sign of Vincent Carter.

To the bar? We still have some money. A drink, a smoke, and maybe a discreet question. Yes? True curiosity, without a hint of sarcasm. It's good to be respected.

We'll see. I'll find a likely candidate from the ground. I huff out a breath and scan the rooftops for another pipe to make my descent.

With feet on solid ground again, I turn out from the alley and put myself on instinct alone. I focus more inwards than outwards and trust my subconscious with the minutia. Returning to the problem in front of us, what do you think his departure from routine would suggest? I pose the question to the ringtail sitting across from me, him having returned to paging through my memories.

Suspicion would be my first guess. He very obviously did not get to where he is in life by being idle. Due to his proximity to the poorer section of the city, I'd say that he is capable in some of the same tasks that you are. A fire for his line of work is oft tied to traumatic events in the individual's past. Perhaps he has a background that falls in line with your current life?

I consider this for a moment, starting to pace back and forth within that blank space in my head. Possible. He was certainly slick with the bartender back at Damen's. And most of the people there seemed to understand that he belonged, despite his threads. They were more wary of me than of him. I pause, head tilted, trying to put together all of the facts that we have. And that couldn't be because of him being the DA. If his face was well known, or even kind of known, The Fangs would know too. Dom would know. So he has to have some history with them.

Familial? There's always the option that his father was involved with the owner, or with other patrons. Zachary props up his muzzle with one paw and watches me pace. Or even his mother. Maybe he moved here from out of town, or perhaps even his family used to be involved with organized crime as well?

I take a quick glance at my outer surroundings before catching sight of a bar and slipping inside. An easy entrance, covered by the level of noise that I can easily ignore. A shaded booth in the corner calls my name and I slide into it before returning into my mind.

Again, possible. We know too little about him as a person save for the bits and pieces that Dom's gathered and what we saw on that first night. Which, let's be straight here, isn't much.

Zachary sighs and thumps his forehead against the book in his lap. This is giving me a figurative headache. There are so many paths that could lead us back to what we know, and so many more branching out from there. Wheels within wheels within wheels.

Some liquid enlightenment sounds to be in order. I'll grab us a beer. I signal one of the servers and order whatever wheat is cheapest and on tap. I don't catch what the name is, namely because I'm scanning the bar instead. I've never actually set foot into this bar, but it looks about the same as any other.

There's your standard riff raff scattered about this place. It's far enough away from my current and old neighborhoods that I'm not worried about being picked out of a crowd, but I still feel a few eyes on me anyway. That's to be expected. The newcomer. The outsider. I know what happens if I step over any lines. That doesn't change with the neighborhood. Not in a bar. Not in this city.

So I'm as careful as I ever am when in unfamiliar territory. I take my beer when it's delivered, sink back into the corner of the booth, and surreptitiously watch the rest of the room. I've more or less perfected the art of looking like I'm staring at my drink while still being vigilant in my observation. A useful skill that stays useful until you get too plastered to know what it is that you're looking for.

But through the first beer, I don't see anything that seems out of the ordinary. There's almost a brawl on the other side of the bar, but that's fairly standard fare here in the slums. It's entertainment, if nothing else.

When my second beer shows up, the wolf who sets it on my table slides a slip of paper along with it. He doesn't acknowledge my glance, my questioning noise, or even the glare I give the back of his head as he walks away. That's definitely something out of the ordinary. Nothing to do but read the paper, now. These are usually pretty good.

On it, in very neat writing, is just a brief order. "Alley behind the bar. Bring your partner. Fifteen minutes."

Well shit. There's no way we can get Dom here in fifteen minutes. Should we stall? Zachary sounds a bit more frantic than I feel.

I toss around the options that we have for a moment before responding to Zachary. No, that would probably end poorly for us. Whoever wrote this knows that we're not alone, knows what we look like most likely, and feels confident enough about his position to be giving orders. That's a dangerous combination in this situation. I tap a finger on the lip of my glass before bringing it to my muzzle for a sip. I consider it for another moment, then down the rest of the glass. I toss a few bills on the table and head towards the front door again. No use wasting our time. We should scope out what the terrain is before we need to meet whoever this is.

Do you think it's the Fangs? Zachary looks worried as he says that.

I shake my head. If it was them, they'd send Yates or Borris to just grab me and haul me into the alley. And I don't think it's the mob either. I know that I wasn't seen when I lifted that book. And they don't know what I look like.

The only other person it could be filters into our thoughts and it stills us both. I don't say anything else, not until I've stepped around the bar and into the alleyway along its side. A smoke gets fit into my muzzle and lit. It could be Carter.

Zachary stares at the book in his lap with eyes wide enough for the whites to be bigger than the irises. I can't believe that. There has to be someone else.

I just shake my head and puff a cloud of smoke into the air. Another turn into the next alley and I feel something firm press right into the small of my back. A voice like grated gravel growls into my ear. "You came alone. I don't like being disobeyed. You do it again, you're dead. Where's your partner?"

I freeze, of course. The only thing that gets me thinking again is a noise that makes my fur prickle.

The sound of a gun being cocked.