R2 SE2: Pulse
The rain pounded steadily, almost rhythmically, against the windows of the 'local IFPE base of operations' (a glorified name for the local chapter's office). The veins in his temples seemed to throb in time to this beat, and so did the clacking of his secretary on the calculator. The pulsing drumbeats from Hansel's headphones also followed the tempo. Hell, even the local Slayer Officer's voice seemed to be keeping time as he droned on with the numbers.
High Slayer Nathan Prewitt massaged his temples in an effort to alleviate the pain of his growing headache. It didn't help. He sighed and said, "And what about the Charles Bridge? Where are they on the estimations of that catastrophe?"
"It's not looking too good, sir. Not only did we lose a few men who were stationed nearby, the Prague police lost a few, too. What's more, it was a popular tourist site and a beloved landmark. So...the city is asking for at least $2 billion."
A sick feeling came over him. "Two...billion? For a stone bridge?! We're already giving them several million for the clock tower, about ten million for the warehouse district, and God-Knows-how much for the damage caused by that demon downtown, adding to the bribes for keeping the media away and the payment for being the host city..."
His secretary looked up from her calculations. "All told, it's about $6 billion so far."
"And we haven't even begun assessing the rest of the damage caused by the other explosions this round, sir."
Prewitt groaned and buried his face in his hands. Now the light seemed far too bright. "I cannot believe this...We're going to have to pull the funding from all kinds of projects to be able to pay for all this bullshit."
He was thinking of all the people who were going to throw fits when he told them about the cuts. The looks on their faces, the rebellions it would cause, the openings for their enemies--
Suddenly he had a flash of insight. "...They did it on purpose," he muttered almost to himself.
"Excuse me, sir?" asked the officer.
After a moment of thought, Prewitt commanded, "Ms. Smythe, put down that calculator for a moment and get me the dossier on our little reptilian friend."
She immediately stopped what she was doing and reached into her desk, retrieving a manila folder. Prewitt nearly snatched it out of her hand, flipping through the pages until he came to one labeled 'Known Associates.' He recognized most of the names on the list, and remembered where he knew them from. "Of course...I had a feeling she was involved..."
"'She'?"
Prewitt was about to explain when the phone on his desk rang, the shrill sound attacking his eardrums with, ironically, the same beat as everything else. He winced in pain; his headache was now into the 'severe migraine' stage.
He didn't bother to use his hands. The speaker button simply depressed itself. "Whatever it is, keep it short."
"Uh, High Slayer Prewitt, sir? This is Private Adam Shaw of the 21st Division--"
The 21st was the unit assigned to assist the police. This did not bode well. He kept silent and let the private continue.
"--And I'm calling to make a status report. We were following a few contestants, one of them being that one you told us to watch, sir, and they started fighting near the Dancing House--"
Prewitt did not like where this was going. The Dancing House housed the bank where the IFPE kept the tournament's prize money.
"--and in the middle of the fight, we got an emergency call from the guards at the bank, sir. They were being robbed, and--"
"What?!" One of the many windows cracked, and his secretary jumped a little. Prewitt struggled to bring his anger under control before the rest of them followed suit. He was moderately successful; only two more shattered. "...Who was robbing the bank, private?" he asked as calmly as possible.
"......"
"...Private, High Slayer Prewitt asked you a question. If I were you, I'd answer," warned the officer.
"Sir...the creature committing the robbery was a Master-ranked vampire, female, with dark brown hair and gray eyes, wearing a golden cru--"
Prewitt snarled and slammed his fist into his desk. More windows shattered, as did a few computer screens. "HER! I knew it, I KNEW she would be here to ruin everything..."
"Sir?" Private Shaw and the officer asked at the same time.
"GREY! Who the hell else?! Only SHE could organize this much chaos and destruction...I should have known it was her the moment I saw Leona was among the reptile's associates; Grey and Leona have worked together in the past. Damn that bitch to the hottest and deepest pit of Hell!"
For a second, his eyes burned with a golden light, but it vanished as quickly as it came. In that second, he felt so tempted to let go as he had before, to just give himself over to the pulse...But he held back. Now was not the time nor the place. Instead, he took a deep breath, then cleared his throat. "...Continue your report, private."
"...Well, sir, she got involved in the match. Opened fire on the contestant you had us supervising. While she was distracted, sir, we...Temporarily neutralized her."
Prewitt felt the ghost of a smile creep onto his face. Kozyar had been a good investment, if not for the reasons he predicted. His smile grew when he thought of the proud and mighty Ileina Grey locked up in some makeshift IFPE containment cell, cursing and screaming in rage...
But then the pulsing rhythm interrupted his thoughts. He'd have to save his daydreams for later. In fact, he wouldn't have to daydream...He could just go observe. "So, Private Shaw...Where was the vampire taken? Where are you detaining it?"
"...Wellllllll, sir...about that......"
The smile faded. There was a long, awkward silence as Private Shaw attempted to choose his words. The clock on Hansel's desk ticked loudly, making sure everyone knew just how long he was taking. As the seconds passed by, Prewitt's patience wore thinner and thinner. The air around him became thick and heavy, almost like it was carrying a charge. He heard his secretary shift uncomfortably in an effort to get out of the oppressive bubble.
He was about to order Private Shaw to say something under pain of death when he spoke, "You see, sir...The police were called, and they got involved...They arrested the contestants...We were negotiating for their release when...Well, that's when Charles Bridge went up, sir, and...There were some other explosions too, and I--that is to say, we--were...um......"
Shaw trailed off, and again there was a silence. The few remaining windows cracked and shattered as Prewitt's eyes flickered once more. A cold breeze forced its way inside, and his secretary yelped as it caught her legs. She couldn't stand it anymore; between the frightening aura her boss was giving off and the promise of flying glass shards and cold rain, she felt endangered.
Her fear, sharp as the glass from the broken windows, pierced Prewitt's mind, causing him to wince. He glared at her, and she, catching the meaning behind the glare, quickly vacated the room. With her gone, he turned his attention once again to the phone. Shaw had been stammering and stuttering, trying to say something but afraid to say it. Prewitt couldn't stand it anymore, either.
"...Private Shaw?" The words may as well been chunks of frozen venom.
The private, hearing the tone of his superior, squeaked, "Y-y-yes, sir...?"
"I order you to tell me what the hell happened, or you will die where you stand. You have five seconds."
For a moment, Shaw stumbled over his words again. "I-i-i...After the explosions, sir, w-w-we--"
"Four." Prewitt's voice was barely above a whisper, but still icy and dripping with poison. "So, how do you want to die, Shaw? Three. Have your heart stop? Have one of your lungs crushed? It'd be very easy for me to do, Private. Two--"
The poor private let out a little yell of fear and then quickly said, as if all in one word, "The 21st and the police were both distracted by the explosions sir, and in that moment, the vampire regained consciousness and transformed into a flock of bats. Some of them swooped down on us, others on the police, and while we were shooting at them and trying to get them away from us and the competitors a few more of them went to the bag she had the prize money in and carried it away! After that, we went to investigate the vault, and found out she took the lock-box, too! We're so sorry sir, the rest of the 21st is out looking for her and we called in the 34th to help too, it's only a matter of time before we find her and get--"
Prewitt's eyes no longer flickered. They were now a bright, shining gold. "...So, she got away, did she...?"
The officer, sensing something dangerous in Prewitt's voice and the atmosphere around him, followed the example of the secretary and fled the room. Hansel only just now seemed to notice. He removed his headphones and asked, "Yo, bossman, you a'ight?"
Prewitt didn't hear him. He couldn't hear much of anything but the pulsing rhythm, which was quickening in tempo. He had a detached sense of realization that this pulse was now in time with his heartbeat. "With the tournament's prize money...AND the other prize...?"
Hansel, finally aware of the gravity of the situation, leaped from his chair. "C'mon, bossman, snap out of it!"
"You incompetent morons...Let Ileina Gray escape with our prizes..." It would be so much easier to quit trying to hold back...
The small objects on the various desks in the room--picture frames, clocks, coffee mugs, Hansel's helmet, and the like--were beginning to defy gravity. Muttering a curse, Hansel quickly retrieved his helmet from midair and put it on.
"Just let her...fly away...?" Just let go...Like you did back then...
Hansel cracked his neck and knuckles, preparing for the worst. He would give Prewitt a few more moments to get a hold of himself, but he doubted that they would help. If anything, things were going to get worse...But he would wait anyway. Why waste a good show?
"Is that correct...Private Adam Shaw of the 21st?" Give in...
And of course Private Shaw was stupid enough to answer. "Y-y-yes, sir, that is c-c-correct."
Prewitt stopped struggling against his powers and let them break free.
On the other end of the phone line, Adam Shaw let out a gurgling scream.
