Chapter : 42

  "It is the only thing that makes sense," Sayma nodded. "If Vane is kidnapping people to use as living batteries for his Curse magic, he needs a way to control them. Or perhaps, this drug is part of his curse. We need to find out exactly what they are taking and where they are getting it."

  Ken pulled out his invisible magnifying glass and held it up to his eye, looking around the alley with an overly dramatic, suspicious squint.

  "The plot thickens like a bowl of bad oatmeal," Ken narrated out loud in his gravelly voice. "We need a lead. We need a rat who is willing to sing a song for the police."

  Naomi looked like she was about to explode. "If you do not stop talking like a cheap comic book character right now, I am going to punch you in the throat."

  "Violence is the weapon of the weak, rookie," Ken whispered dramatically, turning his back to her.

  Sayma just sighed, deciding it was best to completely ignore Ken’s annoying roleplay before Naomi actually murdered him. Sayma looked down the narrow alleyway. A few yards away, a very skinny, twitching man in a torn brown jacket was stumbling out of a ruined doorway. He was looking over his shoulder nervously, clutching a small, dirty cloth bag to his chest.

  "There," Sayma said, pointing quietly at the man. "He is erratic. He looks like he just bought a fresh supply. If we want answers, he is our best target. Let’s corner him quietly. No sudden movements."

  Naomi nodded, her green eyes locking onto the target. The argument was over. The B-rank mission was officially underway.

  Ken dropped his invisible magnifying glass and smiled lazily. "Lead the way, ladies. Inspector Ken is right behind you to take notes."

  ----

  The skinny man in the torn brown jacket stumbled down the dead-end alley. The brick walls were high, blocking out most of the morning sunlight. He was muttering to himself, clutching his dirty cloth bag tightly against his chest like it was a pile of gold.

  Suddenly, a soft breeze swept through the dirty alley. The breeze quickly turned into a sharp, unnatural gust of wind.

  Naomi dropped down from the roof of a nearby shack, landing silently right in front of the man. Her bright red hair blew in the wind she had just created. She stood perfectly straight, blocking the only exit out of the dead-end alley. She kept her hands casually near her sides, but her message was clear: there was no escape.

  The addict let out a terrified yelp. He spun around to run in the other direction, but Sayma and Ken were already standing there, blocking his path.

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  "Do not run," Sayma said. Her voice was gentle, polite, but it carried the absolute, firm authority of a Vice-Captain. She held her hands up, palms open, showing that she wasn't holding a weapon. "We are not the Imperial Police. We are not here to arrest you or throw you in a cell. We just want to ask you a few simple questions."

  The terrified man pressed his back against the damp brick wall. He was shaking violently, hugging his bag. "I... I don't know anything! Leave me alone! I paid for this! It's mine!"

  Ken decided this was the perfect moment to assist with the interrogation. He dug deep into the pocket of his messy uniform and pulled out a tiny, crumpled piece of trash paper. It looked like an old receipt from a convenience store. Then, he pulled out a tiny, broken piece of a wooden pencil.

  Ken licked the broken tip of the pencil, flipped the tiny piece of trash paper over, and stepped forward, adopting his gravelly detective voice once again.

  "Alright, buddy, let's make this easy," Ken growled, squinting at the terrified man. "Question one: Did you do it? No? Classic suspect answer. Okay, question two: Is the dangerous magic drug in the room with us right now?"

  Naomi groaned so loudly it echoed off the brick walls. "Ken, I swear to all the magic in the Empire, if you do not step back and shut up, I will throw you into that dumpster."

  Ken looked deeply offended. He held his tiny piece of paper close to his chest. "I am performing a psychological interrogation! I am breaking his mental defenses! It is a highly advanced detective technique!"

  "You are just being annoying!" Naomi yelled back.

  The terrified addict looked back and forth between the angry red-haired girl and the goofy boy making notes on a piece of trash. He was completely confused, which actually made him stop shaking quite as much.

  Sayma sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. She stepped directly in front of Ken, blocking him from the man's view.

  "Please excuse my teammate," Sayma said calmly, returning her focus to the addict. "As I said, we do not care about your personal choices. We only care about the people who sold that to you. The drug in your bag... it is not normal, is it? You can feel that something is wrong with it."

  The man looked down at the dirty cloth bag in his hands. He swallowed hard. The wild, erratic look in his eyes dimmed for a second, replaced by a look of deep, genuine exhaustion.

  "It... it's not normal," the man whispered, his voice cracking. He slowly slid down the brick wall until he was sitting in the mud. He looked completely defeated. "I didn't want to buy it at first. But the guys in the warehouse... they give it out for so cheap. Almost free."

  "Nothing is ever free in the slums," Sayma said gently. "What does it do to you?"

  The man hugged his knees. "It's crazy. Whenever I take it... mostly at night... I feel like a god." His eyes widened slightly as he remembered the feeling. "I feel this incredible, monstrous strength. I feel like I could lift an entire house with my bare hands. The energy just burns inside me. It feels amazing."

  Naomi frowned, taking a step closer. "If it makes you that strong, why are you sitting in the mud shaking like a leaf?"

  The man let out a miserable, broken laugh. "Because of what happens when the sun comes up," he said, tears welling up in his eyes. "When the morning comes, the strength completely disappears. And it takes everything else with it. I become so incredibly weak I can barely stand up. My bones feel like they are made of glass. My chest hurts so much it feels like my heart is going to stop beating. It feels like... like something inside me is eating me alive."

  A heavy silence fell over the alley.

  Ken stopped scribbling on his fake notepad. The goofy detective act dropped for just a fraction of a second. His dark, sleepy eyes narrowed as he listened to the symptoms. He knew exactly what this was, but he waited for the Vice-Captain to piece it together.

  Sayma’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses. She took a slow step back, looking at the man with absolute horror.