《Imperfect power》chapter 3

Jade POV:

[Hi sweetie,] I purred into the receiver.

[Hi Jade, what is it?] Eric's voice came through, tinged with curiosity.

[Guess who found the track of our killer you've been searching for?] I couldn't hide the excitement in my voice. This time, I had him.

[For real?!] Eric's words rushed out with a sense of urgency.

[Well, it's not like I found the person, but I know who might know something.] I thought of the person we were about to meet a critical link in our quest to uncover the killer's identity.

[Will you be okay by yourself?] Eric's concern was evident, even though he knew I could handle myself in any situation.

[I'll be with Angie, we're already at the place.] I glanced at the imposing building ahead of us. It was a towering structure, and I knew navigating it wouldn't be easy.

[Then have fun and don't make a mess.] Eric's voice carried a mixture of worry and affection.

I ended the call, hanging up the phone. "Well, it's not like I'm trying to make a mess." I muttered to myself. People often underestimated the danger they were in when crossing paths with me, assuming they could easily evade my grasp.

As I strolled into the building, a spacious hall lay before me, sparsely populated with folks in fancy outfits. Several guards kept watchful eyes on the place. I made my way to the person behind the front desk.

"Excuse me." I said, my tone more polite than I felt, "I've got an appointment with Mr. Marino."

The lady at the desk gave me a scrutinizing look and said, "Name and ID."

"Jade Adamas" I handed over my ID card, trying to hide my annoyance.

"Your ID says 'Angeline Innganamorte.'" she remarked, her voice also dripping with annoyance.

"Oops, my bad." I replied, passing her the correct card. I must've mixed up our IDs when we were packing.

She sighed and finally pointed toward the elevator. "Take it to the 12th floor, room number 32." she instructed, her expression still resembling Squidward's on a bad day. Geez, that glare could melt ice. Hope you don't swallow that bubblegum."

I strutted my way to the elevator, which was pretty fancy itself. It had mirrors all around, and Shakira's voice filled the airwaves on the radio. The floor was even adorned with a golden touch. Dear god what a beautiful elevator. Mental note: I need to get this in our apartment.

Upon reaching the designated floor, I stepped into a wide room. Large windows bathed the room in natural light, revealing a typically positioned businessman's desk. Two sofas faced a small coffee table, and Mr. Marino occupied one of them, his guards looming behind him. His appearance was nothing out of the ordinary, a head of black hair and a thin mustache that didn't quite match his features, which seemed a bit too wide for his shirt. I couldn't help but wonder how he couldn't see that his button was barely holding his shirt together.

Anyway, I settled into my seat at the table and casually placed one of my cases on it.

"Open the case." he said, his tone as warm as a winter night. But then again, what did I expect from a rich gangsta boss?

"Here it is, 10,000 for the name plus 15,000 for the whereabouts." I replied coolly, sliding the briefcase toward him.

"Add another 5k to it; my info's not cheap." he retorted, that smug look on his face. Well, if he wanted to play hardball, I was ready.

"Fine, but I'll have it transferred to you. Just give me the account details." I responded, keeping my composure for now. It was best to stay calm until the right moment.

He handed me a slip of paper with his account numbers, all the while pouring a glass of whiskey.

"Before I send it to you, I have to at least hear half of the info." I declared, not wanting to be scammed by this guy.

"Five thousand, now." he demanded, pushing my patience to the brink. I could hear the notification sound on his phone, signaling the arrival of his money.

"How about a toast before sharing such important information?" I raised my glass toward him.

"A strange reason to celebrate, but very well." he replied, unwittingly falling into my trap.

He took a sip from his glass. "Tough girl, I'll have to disappoint you; you won't be getting out of here aliv-"

The look on his face was priceless as he glanced at his phone and noticed I had sent him just one dollar with a nasty message.

"What is the meaning of this?!" He seethed with anger.

"You've just been marked for a death sentence, just as you wanted to get rid of me." I said, closing my briefcase filled with money.

"Shoot her! Shoot that fucking bitch!" He yelled at his guards. Go ahead, shoot me. You're in for a surprise.

"Try me." They emptied their magazines on me, but every bullet deflected harmlessly from my skin.

"Feelin' fucked up, fatso?" I taunted him, rushing at the guards. I delivered a heavy kick to one's head, knocking him unconscious. Then, I headbutted the other guy.

"Tell me the info, or my friend you just swallowed will rip you from the inside." I threatened.

"What do you mean?! I was the one who poured the alcohol!" He was visibly troubled, not understanding what was happening.

"That's why I put something special in my drink and clinked glasses with you. Now, spill the beans." I said with a smile, holding all the cards in this situation.

His troubled face took a moment to reconsider his situation before he finally answered. "Her name is Cassandra Haspis. I've heard she's from THAT Wellston."

His response sent a shiver down my spine. Cassandra Haspis... a survivor from Wellston? With that kind of power, she might be... No, it couldn't be. It had to be a coincidence. Many people managed to escape, so it shouldn't bother me.

"Thanks for the info, unfortunately, I have to get my friend out, and she doesn't know biology, so..." I trailed off, watching as his expression shifted into one of unbearable pain. His belly began to swell, and in the most gruesome way possible, he was torn apart from the inside as Angie emerged, covered in blood and other substances.

"Clean yourself up and put some clothes on; you reek." I instructed, trying to suppress my disgust at the sight of Angie's naked body soaked in the foul-smelling insides of that man.

"All right, Jade, just wait for me." Angie responded casually.

"Your clothes are in the other briefcase. Make sure not to stink up the place. The bathroom should be around here somewhere."

"Took you long enough." Angie said as she approached me, and together, we left the room, riding down in the fabulous elevator.

"OMG, what a nice elevator." Angie exclaimed, her words echoing my previous thoughts.

"Right?! It looks so... fancy!" I couldn't help but marvel at this elevator; it was something else.

"And the... the little patterns on, what is it, the floor strip? Incredible!"

"And the golden touches with some orange, maybe dark orange strips here and there." I added, appreciating every detail. This elevator was fit for a king.

"Maybe the radio is a little off." Angie remarked, her tone shifting.

"What are you talking about, Angie? I thought you liked Shakira." That was odd.

"I mean, isn't it a little asymmetric?" She had a point. Now that I looked closely... YES, IT WAS!

"What a flaw!" I exclaimed. This conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

A sudden ding interrupted our elevator critique session, and we had to step out.

"You know, Jade, instead of the typical elevator ding sound, our elevator should have a Taco Bell sound." Angie suggested. I couldn't help but put my hand on her arm.

"Angie, you know I love you, but there is a limit to how brilliant you can be. Sometimes your genius is... it's almost frightening."

And there she was again, the receptionist who could replace Moe and sell beer in Springfield. I was sick of this place, but we needed to stir things up a bit. I strolled toward her with a grin.

"You see, Grumpy." I began, leaning in closer. "there's been an accident, and the cleaning staff is required. It would be nice if you went to check it out yourself. At least that's what Mr. Marino said."

I turned and walked away, heading to the car where Angie was already waiting. It was a sight to behold a beautiful Chevrolet Corvette C8 Stingray coupe, the 2020 model.

"Nah ah ah, you ain't driving my baby!" I exclaimed, protective of my prized possession. This car was no ordinary machine; it was a work of art. You had to feel it in your soul when you grabbed the wheel and heard the silence shatter as it roared to life. With the engine at the back, comfortable seats, two hot bitches, and an alluring mulberry paint job, it turned heads wherever it went. And of course, there was that small, cringy Ironmouse sticker on the left side.

"So what do you think?" I asked Angie, trying to keep my thoughts focused.

"About what?" Angie replied, her attention momentarily elsewhere.

"The girl, Cassandra, from Wellston." I clarified. If we were on the right track to solve this, we needed to dig up information about the Wellston massacre.

"She's not with those terrorists. I mean, only one of them is still alive, but it was confirmed that they were all found." Angie replied, her tone indicating her certainty.

"Unless she's a vigilante." I mused aloud. It would explain a lot, though not the recent killings.

"Let's check out some info about her once we get home. I think it will be useful if we also check the list of citizens that escaped, more about the terrorists, and the remaining one should be interrogated once again." Angie suggested, her plan sounding solid.

"How do we get to talk to the terrorist that's locked in a prison, unreachable by anyone? We need to call Eric." I began to reach for the screen in our car, connected to my phone.

"Wait! Jade!" Angie startled me with a sudden interruption.

"What is it? Without him, we can't get in." I replied, wondering what her alternative could be.

"Eric isn't the only one who can help us get in." Angie said, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet cautious. "So who is it that can help us casually walk in?"

"Someone who has casually walked out many times, you know her." Angie replied cryptically.

"Oh no, not her!" I groaned, knowing the trouble that could come from involving her. Eric would be furious.

"What if she tricks us? Compared to her, we're like casual citizens." I voiced my concerns about this rather crazy idea.

"We'll be fine, and Eric won't find out if that's also your concern." Angie reassured me.

With a sigh, I agreed. "All right, we're going to get her and hope for cooperation."

With that, we headed home to check the information about the Wellston survivors. The massive list of citizens didn't mention anyone by the name Cassandra Haspis. At least, we had gathered some information about the terrorists. There were five attackers in total, each with unique powers and confirmed names:

Mason Kane, whose ability was causing earthquakes.

Lucas Blackwood, known for his burning light ability.

Victor Thorn, who possessed a berserker ability.

Amelia Voss, the chief, who had the power of paralysis.

And lastly, Isabella Stone, the strongest of them all, with the ability to summon comets.

All of them had been involved in the attack on Wellston, but only Victor Thorn had survived. The rest were claimed to have died before the special forces arrived.

"The prison where Victor is held is very close to Eric's house." Angie informed me.

"Close, my ass! It's like a 2.5-hour drive to get to Eric's house from here alone!" I grumbled, feeling a bit nervous. We would later have to rely on public transport since my car was only a two-seater.

"I know you can make it in 2 hours if not less." Angie encouraged, her optimism shining through.

"Let's go right away and hope he's not home." I agreed. With that decision made, we embarked on a long journey to seek the help of our important contact.

.  .  .

We arrived at Eric's house, and there was no turning back now. As Angie knocked on his door, we heard a cautious reply.

"Who's there!?"

It didn't sound particularly friendly, but we entered the house anyway and found the two girls Eric was taking care of. There was the stoic-looking Christine and the girl we had been looking for, Lauren.

"We're taking you for... a walk." Angie replied, her excuse leaving much to be desired.

"Who am I, a dog?" Lauren retorted, her annoyance evident.

"I mean, you're chained to the wall, and you're literally wearing a collar." I replied with a mischievous grin.

"So what is it that you really want?" Lauren asked, seeing through our flimsy excuse. There was no point in hiding our true intentions; we needed her help.

"There's a record of you escaping many prisons without getting caught until you were out for some time." Angie explained the situation.

"So what? You plan on escaping the prison? You're already out, hah ha ha!" Lauren responded, clearly amused.

"How about getting in?" I chimed in, catching her attention.

Her expression shifted from amusement to intrigue. "What kind of crap have you gotten into to ask ME of all people to get YOU packed?" she asked, misunderstanding our intentions.

"We need to walk in, gather info, and get out." I clarified our mission.

"And what will I get from that?" Lauren inquired, showing a hint of interest.

"You'll get entertained, like... come on! Is sitting on your loli ass and watching, what is it, Nisekoi, more entertaining than taking the lifetime's craziest walk with us?" Angie asked, her frustration showing.

"Hey! Hey! I'm shipping that guy with blondie!" Lauren retorted, displaying her anger as a fervent fan.

"They kiss in the end! Now go with us!" Angie, the unexpected manga expert, dropped a bombshell.

"NOOOOOOOO!!! How dare you!?" Lauren's reaction made the conversation even weirder.

"AND THEY HAVE A KID IN THE EPILOGUE HAHAHAHA!" Angie couldn't contain her excitement.

"No! No! No! No! I wanted to see this myself!" I couldn't help but feel a bit curious too.

"Alright! Stop this! Are you going or not?" I finally brought the conversation back on track.

"Fuck you, okay, I'm going..." Lauren replied, and it seemed like she might be shedding a tear. Angie might have gone a bit too far with the spoilers.

"Where are the keys?" I asked Lauren, preparing to take Christine with us.

"Should be on the second shelf next to the fridge." she replied.

After unchaining Lauren, I fitted her with a different collar. She looked puzzled. "What is this?" she asked, eyeing the device.

"Oh, this? That's just a shock collar for dogs. Both me and Angie have remotes to shock you if you try something sus." I explained casually. With Lauren freed from her straitjacket, we headed to the exit, with Angie keeping a close eye on her while I pushed Christine's wheelchair. We embarked on our journey to the prison, opting for public transport like regular folks.

"Now then, Ren, do your thing." Angie urged as we approached the prison.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait! So you didn't have any plan? You wanted to depend on me from the start?" Lauren was shocked, and her doubt cast a shadow over the success of our mission.

"More or less. We thought you had something up your sleeve." I replied honestly, realizing our chances of success were dwindling.

"Just stay here." Lauren instructed as she confidently walked toward the prison gates and began a conversation with the guards. We watched in amazement as she...seduced them? Is that how it works? Seduce the entire prison staff to gain control? What a hoe.

"Let's go. You'll wait inside at the entry as I do a quick walk around and get the control." Lauren instructed, her plan leaving me slightly puzzled, but I decided not to judge it.

After a few minutes, she returned once again, and I couldn't help but ask. "Was it necessary to go alone instead of taking them while we go?"

"I can't risk something happening to Eric's favorite. Now, let's go." Lauren replied, raising even more questions.

"What did you just say?" Angie asked, her expression troubled.

"The wheelchair princess, Eric's soft spot." Lauren clarified. The revelation left us all stunned. What kind of connection did she have with Eric? It was all so confusing.

"Why do you think that?" Angie questioned, seeking answers to this unexpected twist in the story.

"Oh come on, you didn't know?" Lauren's words left me astonished. "Those milky eyes when he's looking at her, and the special care that she's getting. She's not his patient, more like his spouse. And I don't blame him, touching her naked body every night, who wouldn't fall for that?"

The shock of this information reverberated through me. How could something so significant escape my notice?

"Are they... you know..." Angie ventured, asking the risky question that had been lingering in the back of my mind.

"Who knows, takes them a while to get out of the bathroom where I can't see them." Lauren replied with a mischievous smile. Her answer didn't confirm anything, but the knowledge alone was quite a revelation.

We moved forward in an awkward silence until we reached the separate room. It was a far cry from a police station's interrogation room, but it would have to do. We all sat down as prison guards escorted Victor Thorn into the room. He was an imposing figure, with massive shoulders, long black hair, and around two weeks of unshaved beard.

"Damn, he's been lifting." Angie whispered, noting the sheer size of the man. He looked like a bull.

As Victor Thorn took a seat on the other side of the table, we began our interrogation.

"So!" Lauren suddenly shouted, which startled me for a moment. "Mister Thorn, about the Wellston incident-"

"I've told them everything, everything I know." Victor Thorn replied in his deep voice, which sounded rough from a sore throat.

"Sure, sure, but all they know isn't all we know, and there's more we can get." Lauren said, gently placing her hands on his massive, cuffed arms that rested on the table.

"Now tell me, how did your comrades die?" Lauren used her ability to coax information from him.

"I... Once I turned, they were dead. I went forward to continue with the plan, and when I looked back... they were dead." Victor explained. His words sent a shiver down my spine; there might be more to this than meets the eye.

"Was there someone else?" Angie asked, probing for any additional details.

"Just a kid, no one else." Victor replied.

"Was it a girl with red hair?!" I exclaimed, my excitement getting the best of me. Angie quickly tried to calm me down.

"Yes, a crying girl with red hair. After they caught me, I saw her run away." Victor confirmed. It had to be her – Cassandra Haspis.

"You're free to go." Lauren released Victor from her influence.

"You must be Lauren Rousseau, people around here talk about you." Victor acknowledged, showing respect towards Lauren. It appeared that she was quite well-known.

"I'm pleased by your words. And what do they say about me?" Lauren's curiosity led her to inquire further.

"That you're a monstrous kid." Victor replied, and Lauren's expression darkened.

"Get out! GET OUT!" Lauren shouted angrily.

"Oh my, did ouw shweet KID get angwy?" Angie added fuel to the fire.

"I'm long past twenty, what is wrong with you people?!" Lauren's frustration was evident, and it was clear we should leave.

As we reached the prison gates and stepped outside, I realized that Eric had been calling me several times. He had found out. Well... it seemed we were in trouble now, weren't we?