This chapter was harder than I expected to write. It is mainly a character-driven chapter, with a very important interaction between Thompson and Reaper. It is their first one-on-one interaction, and it furthers both of their characters greatly.
The scene between the two of them wasn't difficult. It turned out really well, and came really easily. I loved writing it. The difficult part was going from that scene to the necessary exposition, which finally reveals exactly what the killer is after. The details of his goal aren't as important as the gist of what he wants, so the exposition is short and sweet, but I can't help but feel that I handled it a little clunkily. I may end up going back and editing it later. I dunno. If anyone reads this, let me know if it works.
And yes, this chapter technically ends on a cliffhanger. This is intentional, as I wanted to end the chapter on a wham line. I like those.
Revelations
For a moment Max, El and Thompson all just looked at James. Finally it was Thompson who spoke up, asking, “What was that now?”
James looked nervous, as he tended to when he was put on the spot, and he stammered as he spoke, “W-well when Detective Thompson and I were on our way back here, I got a text from the officers back at Rockland County who were helping work the Arlen Cord case. They were collecting any potentially relevant personal effects from the hospital, and the staff directed them to the residence storage, where he kept all of his full diaries. He’d been keeping them for years.”
“We knew about all of that before we left to come up here,” Thompson interrupted in a way that suggested that James get to the point.
“I know,” James continued, “but I wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page. Anyway, the text that I received was to inform me that they found something out of place. Documents, mixed in with the diary pages. From the description, they sound like they might have been research documents from this university. Maybe they’re copies of the documents that the killer took with him.”
“It makes sense,” El replied thoughtfully, addressing Thompson and James. “Our theory is that this guy is looking for an artifact from the dig that can increase his powers even further. We think that my father realized the danger that the artifact posed, and hid evidence of its existence here, in that file, and that the only person left alive who knew was Arlen.”
Thompson shook his head slowly in disbelief, “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
He ran his palm down his face and sighed heavily, “So you’re saying that these magic powers come from ancient artifacts?”
“Yes,” Max replied flatly, “or at least all of them that I’ve encountered have originated from ancient artifacts. Weapons, amulets, ornaments. Usually metal, often with gemstones or etchings.”
Max gestured to the Soul of Life hanging around his neck, “My powers come from this. It’s called a Duelist’s Soul.”
“Duelist,” James asked, “like in Duel Monsters? I knew it. I always suspected that there was something more to the game.”
“There is,” Max confirmed. “The game is actually based on an ancient form of wizard combat originating in Ancient Egypt. All of the most powerful magic artifacts originate from there as well. This man is powerful, and he has a powerful Item, but whatever he is after could easily be even more powerful.”
Thompson laughed, “Shit, this is crazy. But assuming that I’m not going crazy, we’ve got to deal with this. We can’t let this guy gain the power to kill even more easily than he already can. I’ve faced off with serial killers who enjoyed what they did, and this guy was even more insane than the worst of them. Give him more power, and he will use it.”
He turned to James, “Call ‘em. See if they can fax the files over to us here. We need to I.D. whether or not they’re what we need, and we need to do it ten minutes ago.”
He shooed James out of the room, and then began pacing back and forth between the file cabinets as the younger man hurried away, dialing his cell phone as he went.
“I’ll go with him,” El offered, close at his heels. “I might be able to recognize my dad’s handwriting.”
Max nodded at her, shooting her a tender smile from beneath his hood, and she smiled back as she stepped through the doorframe. Suddenly Max and Thompson were alone. Neither of them said anything. Max had done something awful to Thompson, and even though he had done it because he hadn’t had a choice, it didn’t make it right, and being alone with his victim left him feeling ashamed. He wanted to say something to Thompson, but he didn’t know where to start. Thankfully, Thompson took care of that for him.
Thompson stepped up to a chest-high file cabinet across the room and leaned on it, looking over it and across the room at Max, and he asked, “So I guess you saw what I saw in my head?”
Max hung his head, “Yes.”
Thompson nodded, “That makes you one of only three people alive who know what happened between me and my ex-wife. I’ve worked so hard to keep it a secret, but I find it weirdly comforting to know that there is someone I don’t have to pretend around. Even if I am still right pissed.”
“I’m sorry, Detective,” Max told him. “I let myself get carried away. I never intended to hurt you.”
“That’s the problem with you, kid,” Thompson told him, pulling a cigarette from a pack in his jacket pocket and lighting it taking a long draw before he continued, “you don’t give a shit that you’re hurting people doing what you do.”
“You hurt people to do your job,” Max argued before he could stop himself, feeling a sudden urge to defend his way of life, as screwed up as it was. “You do your best to hurt people as little as possible, but you hurt them all the same. Just sending a man to jail hurts him. And you’re limited in what you can do. I’m not. I can put a stop to people who are above the law, or people who escape its notice.”
“Yeah,” Thompson replied with a small, derisive laugh and a wry smile, “but I’m trained to make the hard decisions. I’m trained to have some idea when it is right to use force and when not to, and I’m held accountable when I make a mistake.”
Suddenly, at the utterance of that word, his confrontational attitude melted away, “Mistake. I’ve made some doozies, kid, and I can tell you, once you make that one mistake that you can’t unmake, it changes everything. It can tear you apart. I don’t know you from Adam, but I can tell you you gotta be careful. If you make the right mistake, it can tear your heart right out.”
He looked over at Max, at where his eyes would be, “You saw the vision that I had. You know what I did. I chose to stay here, insisting that it was because this city needed me, and I was wrong. There’s been nothin’ since that day that someone else couldn’t have handled. Even this, you and your friend woulda been here to take care of it. I made that mistake, and every day since then it’s killed me a little bit more inside, knowing that I gave up the most important people in my life for nothin’. It wears ya down, losing something so important to you, and knowing that it was because of you, that it was no one else’s fault. And you, doing what you do, it’s just a matter of time before you make that mistake. The one that you can’t go back from.”
Max looked into Thompson’s eyes for a few seconds, until finally he spoke, “I’ll keep that in mind. But I made a promise to El that I’d help her put an end to this man and his plans. I will keep my promise.”
Thompson took another drag from the cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke with a heavy sigh, “Fair enough. Just be careful. I don’t want to see you ruin your life, at least not until you’re old enough that it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re a good man, Thompson,” Max told him, a little surprised that it took him so long to come to that realization. “You’re not just a good cop, you’re a good man.”
“I’m a worn out man,” Thompson replied with a frown. “Maybe I was something once, but I’ve let things go too far at this point. There’s no coming back for me.”
“I don’t believe that,” Max told him, so insistently that is startled Thompson, leaving him visibly surprised. “I think that a good man, no matter how far gone, can return to the person who he was when he was at his best. I have to believe that. If not, then it means that I can never be a good man. You talk about mistakes? I’ve made mistakes. I’ve used my powers to do horrible things because I thought I had no choice. I do what I do now to try and make up for what I’ve done, to earn forgiveness from the ghosts of my loved ones, which still haunt my memories to this day. I lost everything, and I let it make me into something that I didn’t want to be. You’re a good man, Thompson, even if you are worn down, and if I can come back from my worst place, so can you.”
Thompson was shaking his head. He threw the cigarette down and stomped it out, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, raising it toward his lips, but then he suddenly looked at it as if for the first time, and his hand started to shake very slightly. He set the flask down on the file cabinet at arm’s length, and recoiled his hand, making a fist. He looked over at Max again, and understanding passed between them. Thompson had come to the realization that he decided the kind of man that he was, just as Max had that day all those years ago. Max could feel the older man’s mind change in that moment, for the better, and he felt as if maybe, just maybe, he had made up for a little bit of what he’d done.
“Thanks kid,” Thompson said somberly, “I needed to hear that. I guess you aren’t so bad yourself. Who knew?”
Silence fell over them again at that point. Neither of them had anything else to say to the other, and neither of them was one to initiate small talk. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait in their awkward silence for long, because only a few minutes later El returned, leaning into the room through the door and motioning for the two of them to follow her. She looked like someone who was defeated, but trying desperately to convince herself otherwise. It was a look that Max knew well as one often worn by his Duel Monsters opponents, and seeing it on El scared him.
“You have to see this,” she said. “Come on, follow me and we’ll show you what we found.”
She stepped once again out of the room, and Max and Thompson rushed after her. They were about to step out into the hallway, when El turned suddenly and stopped them, “Uhm, actually, maybe you shouldn’t.”
She gestured to Max’s chest, where his shirt was still split and soaked in blood.
“Here,” El told him, reaching into her bag and removing the dark shirt that he had worn earlier that day with his Reaper costume. Without the cloak and clasp, it would look like a particularly tight sleeveless shirt. Max hesitated.
“I know it won’t hide your face,” El told him sympathetically, “but we don’t have time. I promise, you need to see this. Right away. Things are worse than we thought.”
Max could detect the urgency in her voice. It worried him, so reluctantly he took the shirt from her, and he set it aside as he removed the destroyed hoodie, revealing himself to Thompson. The man laughed. “Shit, you really are a kid, aren’t you. Look at you, you’re less threatening than a freakin’ Yorkie.”
Max ignored him, trying hard not to show just how uneasy he was, but El noticed anyway when Max’s hand started shaking. She took it in hers and smiled at him, looking into his eyes, “I like it. I like seeing you.”
Thompson noticed the exchange, “Oh, you’ve actually got a thing about this, huh. Social anxiety. One of my kids had it when he was young. I, uh, I’m sorry I laughed.”
Max took a deep breath. He’d never really thought of it that way. Was his aversion to showing his face due to anxiety? It would explain a lot. He took another breath, and he said, “It’s alright, we don’t have time for me to worry about it. We need to get going.”
He stepped past El, out into the open, leaving his hoodie behind, waiting for his companions to follow. El stepped up to his side, and they walked side by side toward where James waited, with Thompson close behind.
Thompson stepped up to a chest-high file cabinet across the room and leaned on it, looking over it and across the room at Max, and he asked, “So I guess you saw what I saw in my head?”
Max hung his head, “Yes.”
Thompson nodded, “That makes you one of only three people alive who know what happened between me and my ex-wife. I’ve worked so hard to keep it a secret, but I find it weirdly comforting to know that there is someone I don’t have to pretend around. Even if I am still right pissed.”
“I’m sorry, Detective,” Max told him. “I let myself get carried away. I never intended to hurt you.”
“That’s the problem with you, kid,” Thompson told him, pulling a cigarette from a pack in his jacket pocket and lighting it taking a long draw before he continued, “you don’t give a shit that you’re hurting people doing what you do.”
“You hurt people to do your job,” Max argued before he could stop himself, feeling a sudden urge to defend his way of life, as screwed up as it was. “You do your best to hurt people as little as possible, but you hurt them all the same. Just sending a man to jail hurts him. And you’re limited in what you can do. I’m not. I can put a stop to people who are above the law, or people who escape its notice.”
“Yeah,” Thompson replied with a small, derisive laugh and a wry smile, “but I’m trained to make the hard decisions. I’m trained to have some idea when it is right to use force and when not to, and I’m held accountable when I make a mistake.”
Suddenly, at the utterance of that word, his confrontational attitude melted away, “Mistake. I’ve made some doozies, kid, and I can tell you, once you make that one mistake that you can’t unmake, it changes everything. It can tear you apart. I don’t know you from Adam, but I can tell you you gotta be careful. If you make the right mistake, it can tear your heart right out.”
He looked over at Max, at where his eyes would be, “You saw the vision that I had. You know what I did. I chose to stay here, insisting that it was because this city needed me, and I was wrong. There’s been nothin’ since that day that someone else couldn’t have handled. Even this, you and your friend woulda been here to take care of it. I made that mistake, and every day since then it’s killed me a little bit more inside, knowing that I gave up the most important people in my life for nothin’. It wears ya down, losing something so important to you, and knowing that it was because of you, that it was no one else’s fault. And you, doing what you do, it’s just a matter of time before you make that mistake. The one that you can’t go back from.”
Max looked into Thompson’s eyes for a few seconds, until finally he spoke, “I’ll keep that in mind. But I made a promise to El that I’d help her put an end to this man and his plans. I will keep my promise.”
Thompson took another drag from the cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke with a heavy sigh, “Fair enough. Just be careful. I don’t want to see you ruin your life, at least not until you’re old enough that it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re a good man, Thompson,” Max told him, a little surprised that it took him so long to come to that realization. “You’re not just a good cop, you’re a good man.”
“I’m a worn out man,” Thompson replied with a frown. “Maybe I was something once, but I’ve let things go too far at this point. There’s no coming back for me.”
“I don’t believe that,” Max told him, so insistently that is startled Thompson, leaving him visibly surprised. “I think that a good man, no matter how far gone, can return to the person who he was when he was at his best. I have to believe that. If not, then it means that I can never be a good man. You talk about mistakes? I’ve made mistakes. I’ve used my powers to do horrible things because I thought I had no choice. I do what I do now to try and make up for what I’ve done, to earn forgiveness from the ghosts of my loved ones, which still haunt my memories to this day. I lost everything, and I let it make me into something that I didn’t want to be. You’re a good man, Thompson, even if you are worn down, and if I can come back from my worst place, so can you.”
Thompson was shaking his head. He threw the cigarette down and stomped it out, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, raising it toward his lips, but then he suddenly looked at it as if for the first time, and his hand started to shake very slightly. He set the flask down on the file cabinet at arm’s length, and recoiled his hand, making a fist. He looked over at Max again, and understanding passed between them. Thompson had come to the realization that he decided the kind of man that he was, just as Max had that day all those years ago. Max could feel the older man’s mind change in that moment, for the better, and he felt as if maybe, just maybe, he had made up for a little bit of what he’d done.
“Thanks kid,” Thompson said somberly, “I needed to hear that. I guess you aren’t so bad yourself. Who knew?”
Silence fell over them again at that point. Neither of them had anything else to say to the other, and neither of them was one to initiate small talk. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait in their awkward silence for long, because only a few minutes later El returned, leaning into the room through the door and motioning for the two of them to follow her. She looked like someone who was defeated, but trying desperately to convince herself otherwise. It was a look that Max knew well as one often worn by his Duel Monsters opponents, and seeing it on El scared him.
“You have to see this,” she said. “Come on, follow me and we’ll show you what we found.”
She stepped once again out of the room, and Max and Thompson rushed after her. They were about to step out into the hallway, when El turned suddenly and stopped them, “Uhm, actually, maybe you shouldn’t.”
She gestured to Max’s chest, where his shirt was still split and soaked in blood.
“Here,” El told him, reaching into her bag and removing the dark shirt that he had worn earlier that day with his Reaper costume. Without the cloak and clasp, it would look like a particularly tight sleeveless shirt. Max hesitated.
“I know it won’t hide your face,” El told him sympathetically, “but we don’t have time. I promise, you need to see this. Right away. Things are worse than we thought.”
Max could detect the urgency in her voice. It worried him, so reluctantly he took the shirt from her, and he set it aside as he removed the destroyed hoodie, revealing himself to Thompson. The man laughed. “Shit, you really are a kid, aren’t you. Look at you, you’re less threatening than a freakin’ Yorkie.”
Max ignored him, trying hard not to show just how uneasy he was, but El noticed anyway when Max’s hand started shaking. She took it in hers and smiled at him, looking into his eyes, “I like it. I like seeing you.”
Thompson noticed the exchange, “Oh, you’ve actually got a thing about this, huh. Social anxiety. One of my kids had it when he was young. I, uh, I’m sorry I laughed.”
Max took a deep breath. He’d never really thought of it that way. Was his aversion to showing his face due to anxiety? It would explain a lot. He took another breath, and he said, “It’s alright, we don’t have time for me to worry about it. We need to get going.”
He stepped past El, out into the open, leaving his hoodie behind, waiting for his companions to follow. El stepped up to his side, and they walked side by side toward where James waited, with Thompson close behind.
The trio walked for several minutes until they came to a hallway the housed doors to several of the university offices. They passed students and staff and faculty, several of whom looked on them with mild suspicion. They recognized that the three didn’t belong here, and they wondered what their purpose was. Max noticed, and it made him self-conscious, but he ignored it, keeping pace with El until they came to a room that was empty, save for a desk and the waiting Detective James.
“The counselor who works in this office is out for the day,” El explained, “but he has a fax. The faculty guy that James and I talked to said we could use it.”
“Which works out well,” James added, registering the tail end of El’s statement as her group entered, “since here we have privacy enough to talk. And we’re going to need it if the stuff in these notes turns out to be true.”
He looked up at El, “Close the door, please.”
She nodded, and she closed the framed-glass door behind us.
James looked over at them, and then then did a double take when he saw Max, who was looking down and away from him. Despite this, out of the corner of his eye, Max took note of how disappointed James looked. He looked away from Max again, and turned his focus back to the stack of papers on the desk before him.
“I don’t know where to start,” James began. “This isn’t something that I ever thought I’d have to talk about, not officially. Not outside of some fantasy story. So I’m just going to jump right into it. I’ve been speed reading through these files over and over again. I can’t believe what I found, except that after today, after what I’ve seen, I kind of do, and it’s got we terrified.”
He pulled one of the faxed copies from the stack and set it in front on the desk where everything could see it, “This is an image of one of the wall carvings that the team found in the ruins that they were unearthing. Look at the images.”
Thompson leaned in, Max looking over his shoulder. They were both equally surprised when they recognized one of the objects in the image.
“That’s the knife that he used to attack me,” Max said. “There in the middle.”
He couldn’t peel his eyes away from it. Larger than the other objects pictured, the knife couldn’t be anything else. It resembled a straight razor, but it was colored dark, and it had a depiction of a blood red jewel in the handle. Max had seen the same jewel up close during his struggle.
“The team found it at the site,” James explained, “in the same chamber as the images themselves. In fact most of the information here is translated from the symbols found in the chamber with it.”
Max looked again at the image of the knife. It was ringed with Egyptian symbols, small and complex ones, and lines were drawn between it and the other two images. Max followed them with his eyes from one end of the image to the other. He was more surprised than he should have been when he recognized another of the objects as well.
“That one on the left,” he told the others, pointing at the image of a metal chalice with blood red gemstones ringing its upper edge. “I recognize it, too. The man who was killed in the alley, Martin Smith, he used that Item against me.”
“It’s tied to the knife,” said Thompson. “This explains why the killer attacked Martin. He wanted that cup specifically.”
He looked to the third item, and then looked over at Max, “Do you recognize this one?”
Max studied the item. It was a necklace made of metallic segments, etched with symbols, many of which Max didn’t recognize. He did recognize one, however. It was the same symbol which appeared in his crystal Soul of Life: the Egyptian Ankh. It was a symbol of life, or rebirth, and it was etched into the largest of the metal segments, from which hung a diamond-shaped charm embedded with another of the blood red gemstones born by the other Items.
“I’ve seen similar magic Items before,” Max told them, “but none exactly like this one.”
“That’s because it hasn’t been uncovered yet,” El told the group. “My father made a point of ensuring that it wouldn’t be. He discovered the power that these three Items possess and he buried his findings, creating a series of false records, and sending the real ones back here in secret.”
She pointed at several lines of handwritten script at the bottom of the page, “These are his notes on the translation of the text surrounding the image of the knife. It says that whoever brings the three Items together at the place where they were forged and completes some unspecified rite will be granted an eternal power.”
“And that translation is literal,” James interjected, looking into the eyes of his comrades with uncharacteristic intensity. “If the text here is accurate, then these Items, when brought together, can grant someone eternal life.”
“The counselor who works in this office is out for the day,” El explained, “but he has a fax. The faculty guy that James and I talked to said we could use it.”
“Which works out well,” James added, registering the tail end of El’s statement as her group entered, “since here we have privacy enough to talk. And we’re going to need it if the stuff in these notes turns out to be true.”
He looked up at El, “Close the door, please.”
She nodded, and she closed the framed-glass door behind us.
James looked over at them, and then then did a double take when he saw Max, who was looking down and away from him. Despite this, out of the corner of his eye, Max took note of how disappointed James looked. He looked away from Max again, and turned his focus back to the stack of papers on the desk before him.
“I don’t know where to start,” James began. “This isn’t something that I ever thought I’d have to talk about, not officially. Not outside of some fantasy story. So I’m just going to jump right into it. I’ve been speed reading through these files over and over again. I can’t believe what I found, except that after today, after what I’ve seen, I kind of do, and it’s got we terrified.”
He pulled one of the faxed copies from the stack and set it in front on the desk where everything could see it, “This is an image of one of the wall carvings that the team found in the ruins that they were unearthing. Look at the images.”
Thompson leaned in, Max looking over his shoulder. They were both equally surprised when they recognized one of the objects in the image.
“That’s the knife that he used to attack me,” Max said. “There in the middle.”
He couldn’t peel his eyes away from it. Larger than the other objects pictured, the knife couldn’t be anything else. It resembled a straight razor, but it was colored dark, and it had a depiction of a blood red jewel in the handle. Max had seen the same jewel up close during his struggle.
“The team found it at the site,” James explained, “in the same chamber as the images themselves. In fact most of the information here is translated from the symbols found in the chamber with it.”
Max looked again at the image of the knife. It was ringed with Egyptian symbols, small and complex ones, and lines were drawn between it and the other two images. Max followed them with his eyes from one end of the image to the other. He was more surprised than he should have been when he recognized another of the objects as well.
“That one on the left,” he told the others, pointing at the image of a metal chalice with blood red gemstones ringing its upper edge. “I recognize it, too. The man who was killed in the alley, Martin Smith, he used that Item against me.”
“It’s tied to the knife,” said Thompson. “This explains why the killer attacked Martin. He wanted that cup specifically.”
He looked to the third item, and then looked over at Max, “Do you recognize this one?”
Max studied the item. It was a necklace made of metallic segments, etched with symbols, many of which Max didn’t recognize. He did recognize one, however. It was the same symbol which appeared in his crystal Soul of Life: the Egyptian Ankh. It was a symbol of life, or rebirth, and it was etched into the largest of the metal segments, from which hung a diamond-shaped charm embedded with another of the blood red gemstones born by the other Items.
“I’ve seen similar magic Items before,” Max told them, “but none exactly like this one.”
“That’s because it hasn’t been uncovered yet,” El told the group. “My father made a point of ensuring that it wouldn’t be. He discovered the power that these three Items possess and he buried his findings, creating a series of false records, and sending the real ones back here in secret.”
She pointed at several lines of handwritten script at the bottom of the page, “These are his notes on the translation of the text surrounding the image of the knife. It says that whoever brings the three Items together at the place where they were forged and completes some unspecified rite will be granted an eternal power.”
“And that translation is literal,” James interjected, looking into the eyes of his comrades with uncharacteristic intensity. “If the text here is accurate, then these Items, when brought together, can grant someone eternal life.”
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