FADE AWAY

It’d been a particularly long day. They started the morning with a forty-mile drive out to an abandoned car on the side of the highway. It wasn’t until they opened the trunk that they understood why homicide had been called.

“What kind of monster does this?” Evelyn asked, taking in the sight of the victim splayed out across the blood-matted rug. It was clear he’d been dumped there without any considerations for respect or decency.

“Syndicate.”

“How do you know?”

The slit throat had tipped him off. It was sloppy, so it was probably some grunt that lacked experience, but it did the job. Adrian kept that part to himself. Instead, he pulled on his gloves and pointed at the subtle outline in the victim’s front pocket. It was a long, thin, cylindrical shape.

“Red Eye,” Evelyn said.

Sure enough, Adrian reached in and pulled out an empty vial. “Bag it. We’ll send it over for a chemical analysis once we get back.”

Evelyn grabbed an evidence bag and held it open for Adrian to drop the vial in. Once she sealed it, she brought it back to their cruiser.

Adrian caught a glimpse of something peeking out from underneath the rug. He pulled out a half-used matchbook. Even though it’d been crumpled and creased, Adrian recognized the logo: a tree with a snake wrapped around the trunk.

He glanced over his shoulder. Evelyn was still at the cruiser, securing the evidence in the trunk. The patrol officers who had taped off the surrounding area were chatting across the way. In one swift movement, Adrian tucked the matchbook into one of the inside pockets of his coat.

“Does he have anything else on him?” Evelyn asked when she came back. Adrian handed her the victim’s wallet. She flipped it open and pulled out his driver’s license. “Roy Marino. Lived in Alba City. Eighteen years old.” There was a pause as she examined the photo. He had a gentle smile and wide eyes. When she lowered the card, she saw those same wide eyes staring back at her, completely glazed over. “He was just a kid.”

The rest of the day followed protocol. They got the vial back to the lab before heading to the address on Roy’s ID. His mother answered the door with a smile. As soon as they introduced themselves, her smile faded. They never even made it into the living room. Adrian and Evelyn knelt beside her in the threshold of the door, taking turns offering their condolences as she sobbed into her hands.

“So Roy sneaks out sometime after midnight and dispatch gets the call about the car at six in the morning,” Evelyn recapped, cupping her coffee mug with both hands. “In between all that, he gets his hands on a vial of Red Eye. If we’re waiting on autopsy and lab results, then we should work on retracing his steps.”

They were at a diner halfway between the Marino’s residence and the office. It was supposed to be lunch, but one of the occupational hazards of being a detective was that you rarely had an appetite. Adrian sat across from his partner, taking a long drag from his cigarette. She subconsciously leaned away from him when he smoked, like the few-inch difference would somehow save her from the smell. That’d be great if the entire diner wasn’t filled with chain smokers and every piece of furniture hadn’t already been permeated with decades of smoke.

“What makes you think he ‘got his hands on’ Red Eye? For all we know, he could be a dealer. Syndicate, even.”

“He wasn’t.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Because…?”

“I just know. He was a good kid. No mother would cry like that if he wasn’t.”

One of Evelyn’s classic lines. ‘I just know’ this, ‘gut feeling’ that. Once she started sympathizing with someone, it was like she had on blinders. Adrian didn’t bother continuing his line of questioning. Agree to disagree. That’s how their partnership worked.

“What’s the plan?”

Evelyn waved her communicator. “The car just came back registered to a Darnell Sala. He reported it stolen a week ago. Seems like a decent place to start.”

At least it started out decent. Mr. Sala didn’t know anything beyond the fact that his car had been stolen from a gas station while he was inside using the bathroom. When they tried pulling security camera footage, they found that all the cameras were fake. The gas station owner claimed they ‘looked real enough’ to deter punks from trying anything. Apparently not.

The rest of the day was spent going up and down the street into local businesses to see if they could find any witnesses. When that didn’t surface anything useful, they started sifting through traffic camera footage. It wasn’t until Evelyn looked up from the screen to see the night sky out the window that they stopped.

“It’s already ten. I have to get my notes ready for court tomorrow,” she hissed as she scooped papers and files into her bag. “You’re going to be there, right?”

It was a rhetorical question. If Adrian had a choice, he’d be anywhere but there. Still, he nodded. “Yeah. Just gonna finish up here.”

With that, Evelyn excused herself. Adrian kept scrubbing through the footage in their empty office. Outside, the muffled footsteps of the night shift carried through the walls. The light from the hallway spilled in from the crack beneath the door. His eyes watched the screen for the black car. As the footage played at double speed, cars flew past, pedestrians moved at unnatural speeds, and the traffic lights flickered. Even while keeping track of all of that, Adrian’s mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on the matchbook inside his pocket.

He got up from his desk a little past one. It was about that time.

A neon sign of a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree bathed the street below in reds and greens. It was a weekday, so it was a quieter night for The Garden. The club usually had a line wrapped around the corner and a team of valet drivers and bouncers crowded at the entrance. Tonight, it was empty.

Adrian took one more drag of his cigarette before tossing it and crossing the street. The single bouncer barely acknowledged his presence, giving him a slight side-eye before looking ahead again. The inside was tamer than what Adrian was used to. Usually, the music was so loud that it made the floor vibrate and poured out into the street. There was a live band tucked away into the corner playing something slow, romantic. The only couple in the place swayed on the dancefloor.

You didn’t need to be a detective to know exactly who Adrian was there for. One, there was probably a total of twelve people in there including the band and bartender. And two, the kid sitting in the worst-lit area of the club was practically swimming in sweat. Adrian could almost see the puddles collecting on the table as the kid splayed his hands against the marble. Keeping his back to the kid, Adrian took a seat at the bar and called the bartender over.

“I’ll take a Piña Colada.”

The bartender blinked, processing his order. “Excuse me?”

“No Piña Colada? I guess a Blue Hawaiian will do.”

“Uh, no, I can make you a Piña Colada.” The bartender looked him up and down, waiting for Adrian to spring the inevitable ‘just kidding’. When that didn’t happen, he bowed his head slightly. “I’ll be right back, sir.”

Adrian glanced at the kid from one of the mirrors that lined the back wall of the bar. When Adrian called him a kid, he meant it. He couldn’t be a day over twenty-one. More likely than not, he was sneaking around with a fake ID. Or he was a part of something bigger, something that couldn’t give two shits about the legal drinking age. Adrian didn’t have to wait long to get his answer.

At the same moment the bartender set his cocktail in front of him, three men came in through the door. Adrian didn’t have to turn around or glance at their reflection to know they were Syndicate. He knew from the way their presence sucked the air out of the room. He also knew it from how the other patrons looked away.

Turning a blind eye. That’s what this city did best.

The men didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. As soon as they got to the kid’s table, the shortest of the three spoke. “Did you take care of it?”

The kid nodded rapidly. Any faster and his head would’ve snapped right off his neck. “Of course! Of course!”

There was a long pause. Eventually, Adrian heard the sound of the booth creak as all three men took a seat. They scooted in, pinning the kid between them.

“Can I explain something to you?” The short guy again. His voice was raspy, like all he did was inhale cigarettes by the pack.

“Of cou–”

The short guy raised a hand, cutting him off. “Just listen. Here’s how it works: we give you Red Eye to deal to punkass kids who have nothing better to do with their lives, you collect their money, you give the money to us, and we let you keep a cut. Rinse and repeat. You follow me so far?”

Rapid nodding.

“Okay. Now, a question. Where, in that very simple process, does a kid stealing from your stash before you get a single woolong out of him fit in?”

“I’m sorry, Ace! I know I fucked up but I took care of it just like you showed me!”

Ace clicked his tongue. Motioning to one of his henchmen, there was a resounding bang as he slammed something on the table in front of the kid. Adrian could tell by the extended silence that the kid was taking whatever it was.

“Tell me what you’re looking at.”

“The outside of my apartment.”

“And?”

“Two kids running down the street.”

“Did you ‘take care’ of two kids?”

If the kid was half a second quicker, maybe he could’ve gotten away with it. That half a second made all the difference in the world. “Of cou–”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Tommy!”

Adrian felt the rest of the patrons jump at the sudden roar. After a moment, they resumed whatever it was they were doing. Talking, swaying, playing music.

Quietly, Tommy spoke. “I’ll find the other one. It’ll never happen again, Ace. I promise.”

“I know it won’t.”

The henchmen to the right of Tommy grabbed his head, his two massive hands completely engulfing the kid’s skull. In an instant, he snapped his neck. This time, none of the patrons even flinched. The only response Adrian noticed was the way the bartender’s eyes slid shut as he took a breath. When he opened them again, all Adrian saw was exhaustion. He’d probably witnessed the same scene play out before him countless times. To him, it wasn’t a murder. Not even a crime. If anything, it was the same thing as locking your door before heading out or brushing your teeth before bed. Routine. 

Ace and his men continued their conversation, calling over to the bartender for a round of beers. Tommy’s body was slumped somewhere beneath the table already long forgotten. Once Adrian finished his drink, he stood up.

“Will that be all for tonight, sir?”

“Yeah.”

“Your total is a thousand woolongs.”

“You can put it on their tab.” He tilted his head in the direction of the Syndicate members. Again, the bartender waited for a ‘just kidding’. Again, it never came. “Tell them I’ll be waiting out back to thank them.”

A few expressions flashed across the bartender’s features. Unsurprisingly, the first was fear. Relaying the fact that Ace and his men had an extra charge on their bill was a guaranteed death sentence. And then he actually looked at them. Clinking their bottles together, shooting the breeze, laughing. Somewhere at their feet, a kid’s body lay in a crumpled pile. His gaze moved over to the other side of the club where the patrons remained in their own little worlds. Eventually, Adrian saw the expression he wanted to see.

“As you wish.”

There was still the chance that the bartender could chicken out. Adrian considered the possibility as he leaned against a brick wall a few alleys down from The Garden. It wouldn’t really change anything. The sun would rise, he’d present evidence in court, he and Evelyn would continue working Roy’s case until they were eventually led back to Tommy, and then it’d be over. Somewhere in there the sun would set, but that was one thing Adrian had a hard time keeping track of. Whether he took care of it tonight or not didn’t matter, and yet he found his palms itching.

“Ah, there you are.” Adrian turned toward the voice. Ace and his henchmen were standing near the entrance of the alleyway, still close enough to the streetlights to cast long shadows. “And where’s that ‘thank you’ I was promised?”

Adrian pushed himself off the wall. Their hands shot into their pockets in response to the sudden movement and only paused when Adrian showed that he was empty-handed.

“Thanks for treating. And sorry if I’m a little nervous. It’s not every day you meet Syndicate members in the flesh.”

Ace laughed at that. It was a strangled sound, like air leaking out of a balloon. “Why would you pull shit like that if you knew we were Syndicate?” They continued to close in on Adrian, backing him further down the alley. Even the streetlights couldn’t reach them now.

“Well, I can’t just ask for a vial of Red Eye in the middle of a club.”

A smirk stretched across Ace’s lips. “It’s bad manners to eavesdrop.”

So is snapping a kid’s neck in front of a bunch of strangers. Adrian had already pushed his luck enough tonight, so he held his tongue. Instead, he dug into one of his inside coat pockets and pulled out a stack of woolongs.

The sight of the money changed Ace’s tune in an instant. He cleared his throat before grabbing the stack. “I’ll overlook it just this once.” He thumbed through the bills until his fingers came to a sudden stop. “You’re short.”

Adrian’s hands shot up to his chest in surrender. “Nervous, remember? I’ve got it right here.” He reached back into his coat.

But he wasn’t reaching for money.

From his waistband, Adrian unsheathed one of his knives. He lunged forward, closing the distance between himself and the henchman in front of him. With one swing of his arm, Adrian plunged the knife into the side of the man’s neck.

It was always after the first kill that the world seemed to slow down. Adrian thought of it like dominos. One movement flowed seamlessly into the next. It was just a matter of aligning himself.

In his periphery, he saw Ace turn to run. The remaining henchman was reaching for his gun. Adrian inhaled as all the steps fell into place.

He yanked his knife free before pivoting, rushing directly at the other henchman. Fear glinted in the man’s wide eyes as he lifted his gun and tried to aim down his sights. But Adrian was faster. He snapped his right leg up, kicking the gun out of the man’s trembling fingers. Switching from a reverse grip to a forward, Adrian swung up, the blade piercing the bottom of the henchman’s jaw and up through his skull.

All that was left was Ace. He was still scrambling toward the street. Pulling his knife free, Adrian held it out in front of him, level with the center of Ace’s back. The weight was familiar. Comfortable. With the blade balanced on his fingers, he wound his arm back. And then he threw.

A satisfying thud followed as Ace fell to the ground.

Adrian took his time approaching. It was amusing to watch the man haul himself across the pavement. While he was small in comparison to his henchmen, he looked even smaller now. When Adrian got close, Ace froze.

“Please…” It came out more like a wheeze than a coherent word.

Adrian kneeled with one leg on either side of the man. He reached down to cover Ace’s mouth with one hand before yanking the knife out of his back with the other. The man’s screams were muffled by his leather gloves. Adrian squeezed as he pulled up on Ace’s jaw.

“This is what you showed Tommy, right?” Adrian leaned down, pressing the blade to Ace’s exposed throat. “I mean, of course you did. It’s classic Syndicate. I’m sure you teach all your recruits. It's just too bad most of them do a shitty job.”

Ace thrashed and kicked out his legs and pleaded. At least, Adrian assumed he was pleading.

“Let’s show them how it’s done.”