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John nodded. "But, you're not. Better to focus on that instead." He sipped his coffee. "Blowfish is slick and hard to take down. I saw him getting friendly with the cops. I watched the scene at the Bad Beat from above. They were on the take. I don't remember which officers, unfortunately. It's hard to nail anyone in this town." He knew that from experience. Bad people had their hands in every pocket.

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GM

 

Jane nodded, hanging her head. Perhaps she had some dust in her eye. Perhaps her hands were shaking. 

 

She turned around, gripped the edge of the kitchen surface, and breathed again. Shaking her head rather than her hands. Her coffee was untouched, fragrant and deep, but getting cold. 

 

"My sister...Kim...Vanity...was beautiful and talented. Smart too. She loved singing. Loved Jazz. Made her feel alive. Me, I never quite got it. I had to be in control" she said, back to the Tattered Man, trying to find a rhythm to her speech to stave off the emotion. 

 

"She didn't deserve Bedlam. Didn't deserve to get sucked in. She never cut corners, she just sang her heart out, true to herself. Me? I had good intentions, but they got tempered by pragmatism. Then corners got cut. One, two, more. Too many to count. It becomes normal, and my idealism was no longer tempered, it was crushed. All I cared about was getting paid and avoiding the chaos around me" she sighed. 

 

She turned again. Her make up was a little smudged. It made her more dark, like a well of beautiful stillness. 

 

"So what's your game then? Trust has gotta start somewhere. What do you do? And why do you do it? Can I trust you?"

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John felt he could tell her something. "I died. Well, they tried to kill me, but, it didn't stick. Doesn't matter who, really, I don't even remember. I woke up different. I remember how it felt, the anger, being left for dead. When I realized I was different, what I could do, I realized it made me hard to target. Meant I could hit Bedlam in ways that Bedlam couldn't hit back. So, that's what I'm doing."

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GM

 

"Dead, but still moving" she said, not quite recoiling. Maybe even the reverse. 

 

"Seems anger is epidemic in Bedlam. Maybe that's what keeps us all alive. One way and another" she mused, finally bringing her coffee to her lips. She had the faintest dribble into her mouth. Her mind was still stewing. 

 

"I don't want to use you. That would be the Bedlam way, and I'm sick of Bedlam. But I do want to ask you. Will you help me?" she said, looking at him full on, her eyes snapped back to the moment. Large and black, but warm this time. 

 

"I want to find out what happened to Vanity. I want to find out who killed her. And who ordered the kill. And I want justice. One way or another. It can't happen again..."

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John nodded. "I can try. I can't make any promises, but, we have a pretty good idea who's responsible. He's not going to be a fan of mine over the next few weeks. I'd like to know as much as you can tell me about her, especially about where or how she died, if you know. I can shake a few cages. If I can't nail anything, legally, though, I can at least tell you what I found. We can get justice for Vanity. Even if it's not through the legal system."

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GM

 

Jane took her coffee and beckoned John to her study. It was a little cramped, and a little more cluttered, but it had an almost homely feel to it. Wooden stained furniture. Leather topped desk. Shelves bent with the weight of old fashioned books and papers. 

 

"It's all here" she explained. "She was found in Mootle street, Strangled. No fingerprints. Forensics say a man between five foot eight and six foot four. Thanks forensics" she said, tossing the worthless report aside. 

 

"In a dumpster" she said, coldly, unable to feel the ignoble ending. Her make up was still smudged. She determined not to make it worse. 

 

"I am guessing its one of Blowfishes men. He has several. His favourite is a nasty little Russian pair, especially Goergy the strangler. That's his name, and that's his job. And he fits the bill..."

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John nodded. That was enough to visit the sight and to see if he could touch her murder, use his strange visions to see if he could get more information. "That's enough to spark." He said. "I can use that information. Five eight to six four, Jesus. Might as well have said he was wearing shoes, boots or sandals." He looked over the evidence. There was enough to get an investigation going, but, Bedlam didn't care. It wasn't going to lose sleep over some strangled girl. Not when palms could be greased and people were on the take, at any rate.

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GM

 

"Yeah, its almost as if Blowfish has paid off some of the medical examiners" she said, bitterly. "Make no mistake, he is one of the small fry in Bedlam, but he has money and the will to use it"

 

She put a pencil to her lips, chewing it vexatiously. 

 

"One thing to consider. The Bad Beat burning stung him financially, but that's not really why it hurt. He can rebuild and repair. Its a bloodied nose for his wallet, at best. But he lives on reputation. Now that really did sting him. I wouldn't be surprised if other criminals test him out now. See if he really is who is says he is. More importantly, he will need to show strength, and quickly"

 

"Blowfish acts when it suits him. He isn't impulsive like other crooks. If he gets emotional, his tic comes on, but he doesnt act rashly. He considers everything. Right now, though, he has to act quickly. Not his usual style. He is at his weakest" she explained. 

 

She smiled. "Degree in criminal psychology as well as law". 

 

"I appreciate everything you are doing to help. But one more request. Bring me along. i need to see this for myself..."

 

 

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John nodded. That would end up showing her what he could do. Or at least, make him look really weird for a moment. Still, he could bring her along. He felt that he should. It would be rather weird for her to see, but, he also figured he'd warn her.

 

"I know it doesn't make sense, but I have the ability to tap into areas of death and loss. I can view memories of those who died, or those who killed. It's very weird, and I'm told it's rather disconcerting to watch. I can't make you believe that, but is it that much more unusual than what I've already showed?"

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GM

 

"No, it isn't" If anything, Jane looked excited by the prospect. "And I couldn't have asked for something better"

 

She gulped down her coffee, invogorated. 

 

"It's past midnight but I say we go now. Mootle street. Its a rough area of town, but you look like you can handle any trouble. Most likely, any trouble coming your way will probably have the sense to turn around and run" she said, full of encouragement. 

 

A thought grabbed her. 

 

"I'm not exactly a believer" she said. "Brought up Catholic, never quite left the faith. Stuck between cynicism and hope, and just end up dragged in by the days and weeks, trying to make it through" she explained. "But I have heard whispers of the supernatural. Enough to make me believe you..."

 

She frowned. 

 

"...and, maybe believe in other things too. Blowfish employs a lot of strange people. Uses some witchdoctor type guy. Smokey Ace, he calls himself. Card shark just as home swindling you in poker as he is cold reading you with Tarot cards. Says he can tell the future, and other things. Never believed Blowfish was that stupid. But maybe he was onto something...."

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John nodded and walked towards the door. "I could carry you." He said offhandedly. "I can move really fast, jump high. But, I suppose there might be a less stressful way." he had to admire her strength. It was a difficult way to be in a place like Bedlam. Knocked down, but hardly beaten. People like that were rare, necessary. It was important to keep that safe.

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GM

 

A bit later, around 1am...

 

...Mootle street. 

 

Jane had a black car, second hand but functional. Perhaps a target for theft, but it was not too ostentatious. Functional, reliable. Maybe even fast if you were inclined, but it was no sports car. 

 

It was not exactly filthy inside, more chaotic. Bits of paperwork, a few miscellaneous books, foodstuffs, and bottled water. A good enough ride. And she dove with hands gripped on the wheel, hey eyes on the road, full of anticipation. 

 

Mootle street was not a famous street. Run down, rough. Rougher than even your average Bedlam street, but not barbaric or anarchic enough to make it infamous. It was a block from the Bad Beat. A few poor artists and students lived her, amongst street hustlers, drug dealers, and the men and women who worked nocturnally. At this time, even those trades were beginning to fade. 

 

On a corner, tucked into a wet and rat infested side alley, was the dumpster in question. 

 

Jane pulled up. She was both angry and sad again, like a curtain of steel had fallen on her face. "There it is. Lets get this over with. Do you need any chants or runes or anything?"

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"No, just a little bit of focus." He said, stepping towards the dumpster. He took a deep breath. It was disconcerting, uncomfortable. There was no lasting trauma involved, but the emotions were raw and painful to endure. He didn't see visions of peaceful deaths, they were usually desperate, angry, sad. There was a powerful intensity to his visions. Yet, he could endure them.

 

He felt Vanity's shock, her fear, her rage, her sadness. Goergy was cold, indifferent, shockingly lacking in any kind of emotional connection or investment. Yet he knew that was his name, he matched the description. It lasted mere moments.

 

John wavered, for a second. "About five and a half feet tall, wiry." He said. "Russian accent, scar on a bald head." He managed to straighten.

 

"Matches the description you gave me." he said. "Definitely  Goergy The Strangler."

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GM

 

Jane sighed and forced the tears to stay. "I knew it, of course. It's a relief, somehow. Like a weight of my shoulders, even if it does make cold"

 

She stroked the dumpster. Filthy, of course, but somehow she needed a tactile connection. "Its liberating, too. Now I know, I can act without doubt. Its like the chains have fallen off" she explained, her hands turning to fists. 

 

"But at the same time, I can feel myself sinking. Into the mire of Bedlam. Life will not be the same on this road, it will be bitter and poisoned. I must embrace that, though. I cannot ignore it..."

 

She turned to John. "Georgy and Blowfish need to pay. One way or another...."

 

Behind her, John saw a police car slowly, quietly, sidling down Mootle street. It seemed to be driving a little too slowly. The police officer took a look at John and Jane, his gaze lingering a little too long...

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Of course, he thought. "Get down." He said in a harsh whisper. This was bad. He wasn't too worried about the standard issue pistols the police carried, wasn't too concerned with handcuffs or arrest, but Jane was a lot more vulnerable. These cops were obviously on the take. He cursed himself. He let Jane talk him into this. They should have simply waited a few more days, let things quiet down. He didn't look like he did before, but that didn't matter much. The coat was obvious to anyone familiar. 

 

Blowfish would know the Tattered Man was on his case.

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GM

 

"What...? Oh hell..."

 

Jane ducked behind the dumpster, huddled up, as the patrol car slowly edged away. In suspiciously accelerated after breaking line of sight, its tires squealing slightly. 

 

"Has it gone? Damn Bedlam! I guess he was spooked, as spooked as we were" she mumbled. "I don't know how much more of this I can take!" she said pulling her hair. "I really don't. Why did I move to Bedlam, of all places? Because I thought I could make a difference! Hah! If I could meet myself ten years ago I would slap myself so hard..."

 

Mootle street was quiet. A rat ran over Johns feet, seeing if there was anything to gnaw. Jane noticed but didn't bat an eyelid. As the day went, rats were not an issue. 

 

"It must have radio'd our presence. Blowfish can work fast, when he puts his mind to it, it seems...."

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"I think we have all we need here." He said, looking around. "I should have just carried you here." They couldn't leave her car, but, that's when he got an idea. "I could change my face, you could stay low. If they don't know which car is yours they wouldn't recognize me and might not come after us." It was a long shot.

 

"The alternative is I just grab you and climb up the buildings, running and jumping so they never spot us on the road. Up to you, but we can't be here if they come back."

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GM

 

"Oh shoot! My car! We can't leave it here!" she moaned, cursing herself. 

 

"I mean, not the money. Well, maybe a bit the money...can't leave an abandoned car in Mootle street for long without it getting torn apart by thieves. But...they are sure to come back. Maybe soon. If we leave the care they will check the plates" she said, getting anxious. 

 

"We need to drive out of here" was her conclusion. 

 

At that moment, a couple of street punks turned into Mootle street, trying to act tough. Leather Jackets, dyed hair in spiky styles, and a liberal adornment of facial piercings and tattoos. Three of them, the same build, all pepping each other. 

 

"Well hellooo! What have we here?" said the first, trying to act cool and intimidating at the same time, folding his arms and striking a pose. 

 

"Spare some change for Mootle street?" asked the second, a bit more boldly, indicating that it was not a request. 

 

It was a mugging. 

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John growled and glared at them. "I'm having a bad night, boys. We're the wrong targets." His voice was low and harsh. He wasn't an especially tall man, but he had broad shoulders and a tattered old coat. There was no fear in his voice, nor in his mannerisms. The look in his eyes was hard, unforgiving, dangerous.  Muggers weren't predators, they were scavengers. Like any scavenger, they were only interested in an easy meal, not a fight. They wisely backed up and left.

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GM

 

Jane stood up, car keys in hand. It looked like she was ready to use them in a punch, but she soon switched them to a more regular use. Namely, opening her car. 

 

"Come on, we gotta get out of here!" she hissed. "Blowfish and his pet goons will be on us..."

 

She scuttled across the seat to her car, opening it up...

 

...as another car, an SUV, pulled into Mootle street. Its beamed lights were dazzling and illuminated Jane and John in bright stark light. 

 

It revved its engine. 

 

"oh...shoot...." moaned Jane. 

 

 

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John cursed, loudly. He was glad the car hadn't been idle for long. It revved to life quickly. It was a solid car, which was lucky for them. He'd need it to move. He recalled, vaguely, his police training. Skills he hadn't used in years. Still, he remembered just enough of it to help him. Regardless, this was a rough night, and was only going to get worse.

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GM

 

The SUV behind them kept its lights on, and, with a thundering of engine and squeal of rubber, accelerated right towards them. 

 

"Aiiii! Moooove!" screamed Jane. 

 

Her care buzzed into life. With a carefully calculated patience, John kept the engine throttled up, and the handbrake on, only releasing it at the last minute, jolting the car forward and slamming Jane into her seat. 

 

"AAaahhhgh! Seatbelt!" she screamed at herself, plugging herself quickly in. 

 

The SUV was not agile enough, or the driver not quick enough, It turned, slammed on the break, but John was away. It slammed up the pavement and collided, side on, with the building. 

 

There was the sound of shattering glass. 

 

"Drive! Drive!" yelled Jane, with a perfect redundancy. 

 

"Haven't you got some super secret Tattered-cave or something?"

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"Not exactly." John said as he drove. "I do have cash, though. There are dozens of motels in and around Bedlam. We could hide out in one. Lots of them take cash." He considered. If they parked somewhere quiet, they could stay the night, Blowfish would hear back in the morning, but by then, the heat would be off, or at least he hoped. Having been living off the grid for so long, John had acquired a few tricks of the trade.

 

"Discreet, quiet, gather our thoughts and stay under the radar. Blowfish isn't the biggest guy in Bedlam." He realized what she might think he was suggesting, but he really didn't care. Whatever it took. He could sleep in a chair by the door all night. He'd slept in worse conditions.

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GM

 

"A motel? You know how to treat a lady on the first date, huh?" she said, a moment of jocularity providing antidote to the situation. 

 

An engine revved behind them. 

 

In the mirror, John saw a flash of the SUV, dented on one side, broken windshield, cracked windscreen. A couple of lights out, but still operational. 

 

He saw a glimpse of the two men in. He couldn't quite make out the larger man in the passenger sheet. But he could make out the smaller man. A wire. Bald, scarred. Someone he had seen before. 

 

Goergy the Strangler. 

 

The Russian was admirably persistent, with a grim smile on his cracked lips. He accelerated at top speed towards the back end of Johns car...

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John was tired of being chased and attacked, and Jane needed to get to safety. He hit the accelerator and got them ahead of the Strangler and his friend. He looked over to Jane. "Slide your foot over here." He instructed. "Jump into this side as soon as I'm gone." He knew he looked insane, didn't matter. This was not going to continue.

 

He popped the door open and rolled out. That hurt, but he was mostly okay. The SUV took off away from him, but John trusted that he could be faster. He ran as fast as he could, catching up to the SUV in a hurry. Then, with a mighty leap he landed on top of it. His tattered coat billowed in the wind as he clutched the top of the SUV. 

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