Denna (Prose)

Spade’s expression soured. The smell of singed, decomposing flesh was an assault on the senses on it’s own. The stark smell of residual acid did nothing to help the matter. He pushed back the feeling of escaping the alley, to air that was only slightly less sickening.

Deceit hovered ten feet to his left, side stepping anything that looked remotely unstable. Her expression gave nothing away as he watched her survey the damage. What could only be assumed as burnt flesh was caked against the narrow brick of the alleyway, and what used to be a nearby dumpster was now a mass of twisted metal.

Upon entering the alley, they were assured by district officials that there were no more deadly surprises waiting to explode. But beyond that, there were absolutely no details on the attack available. Local law enforcement were still awaiting the arrival of a terrorist response team, who would take over the case and all responsibility upon arrival.

Instead, a call had been placed to their director for Spade and Deceit, specifically, to be there and the only communication they had for certain was a poorly veiled threat of bodily harm if the body moved so much as a millimeter. The threat was given by an elderly, rather angry, district medical examiner’s assistant, with very little weight in his thin voice.

They were not trained investigators, by any means. Or rather, Spade had abandoned his uniform long before, and Deceit had never received formal training on the topic. And yet, there was an importance of their presence that Spade just couldn’t put his finger on.

The victim was unidentifiable, visually. Skin had been liquefied from bone, leaving shining exposed bone in a way that Spade had never seen before. The tell-tale signs of hot acid made itself known around the face and chest, but it had a strange pale blue tinge.

“There’s no way to identify her.” He stated, testing the waters. Things were still tense between the two of them, and the silvery seal on the inside of his wrist did little to ease the situation.

“They’ll try to run DNA through the system,” Deceit gave him the obvious answer. “Probably’ll get too many or too little hits. They haven’t finished tagging everyone in the Districts, yet.”

“It’s not like people will sign up to be stabbed and recorded, ‘Ciet.”

“Never said they would.” She was looking at him now, with an expression Spade didn’t want to decipher. It was uncomfortable, in the very least. He would have her scream at him, cry, display any real emotion over the damage that was done.

Not this. The hollow, increasing-by-the-minute distance between the two of them had put him on edge. He didn’t know the woman he had once called a friend, and without that knowledge, well, he didn’t know if he could trust her.

Trust, well, it was the foundation of everything between them. He needed space, and started to study their surroundings- starting with a direction that kept her out of his line of sight.

“Her name is Deena.”

“What.” Spade turned on his heel, to face her. Deceit didn’t look at him, instead opting to continue to study the corpse at the far end of the alley. “How can you possibly tell that is a girl, let alone the identity.”

“Pelvis is too wide for a male, Spade. The acid tore through her.” She pushed aside the remains of what looked to be a shirt to expose bone, not the flesh he’d expected. “And I’m surprised with you.”

“For what, not realizing you were a walking database?” He bit his tongue at her sudden change of expression. The slight warmth turned frosty. Spade couldn’t even formulate an appropriate apology before she spoke again.

“For not recognizing this.” She pointed to the pendant around the corpse’s neck. It had heated from the acid, slowly burning through what little flesh remained. Still, the stone shone through as dull green.

“Where should I recognize this from?” He gave her a blank stare, backtracking. This... whoever the corpse had been was completely unfamiliar to him.

“Deena, the clerk at the Relics shop two blocks over. You religiously bought tiny odds and ends from that store for months, trying to get her number. The scarring here,” She pointed to right behind the dead’s ear. “Is from a taser. Not more than two years old, judging by the healing.”

“How do you know that.” He wasn’t comfortable with this. A feeling of dread was slowly sinking in. Spade did not make his visits to the lower districts a known fact, nor his relations with anyone. He did not bring friends.

“People talk. I have contacts- even friends throughout the Districts, Spade.” She closed the space between them, and continued with a low tone. “You don’t have to be a telepath to be observant. Smothering your desk at work with cheap key chains isn’t exactly transparent.”

He just stared at her. She looked away and continued, putting space between them again.

“She’s a Green Witch.” Deceit knelt by the body again, examining the girl’s ankles. “Scars are present, looks to be consistent with shackling.”

“Which means she was probably trafficked at some point.” Spade said, playing along. When all else failed, he could still bury himself in work. “Should be a paper trail if she ever hit our system.”

“She did.”

“Stop doing that.” This time, Deceit motioned for him to come closer. He paused, and then stepped closer. Bending down to her level, he could see the shape etched into flesh. It was a similar one he’d seen time and time again on their visitors.

“She’s branded, Spade.” Deceit frowned, flexing her hands habitually. “There’s no way she hasn’t hit the system.”

It took Spade a few moments before he placed the strangely cropped circle burned into Deena’s ankle.

“That’s an Oracle brand, isn’t it.” He stated. One look at her face gave him all the answer he needed. “We will have to pay Jade a visit, then.”