curtain call

The building loomed like a relic of another era, a shadow of mid-century modern architecture gone to seed. It wasn't exactly an eyesore, but it had that faded glamour that spoke of better days and whispered secrets in its crumbling facade. Reid recognized it from the dog-eared photos in the police reports that he'd skimmed, then pushed aside. Solaris PD didn't exactly have a glowing rep for meticulous murder investigations.

"Finally, some fieldwork," Reid mused, studying the structure. "You'd think we're about to walk into a Raymond Chandler novel."

Archer shot him a glance that could have been amusement or impatience—sometimes it was hard to differentiate. That's how Archer spoke—body language was his native tongue.

"Remember, you're not Bogart and this isn't 'The Maltese Falcon,' " Archer seemed to say, tapping Reid's arm lightly to pull him out of his musings.

"You sure? 'Cause you'd make a great stoic sidekick," Reid smirked, winking as he pressed the rusty bell beside the entryway.

A crackly voice broke through the intercom. "Yes? Who is it?"

"Ah, the age-old question. 'Who are we?' 'Why are we here?' 'What's the meaning of life?'—"

Archer jabbed Reid gently in the ribs, his eyes imploring him to keep it professional.

"—We're friends," Reid finally said into the intercom.

After a pause that seemed to stretch the fabric of time itself, the door buzzed, unlocking its secrets. Archer and Reid exchanged a glance that acknowledged the gravity of what they were about to walk into. No words needed.

They climbed the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway, framed by peeling wallpaper and dim lighting. The vibe was eerie, not the kind of place you'd want to be lost in after dark. But neither man showed any outward signs of nervousness; they'd been in far graver situations, after all.

Reid knocked on the apartment door, a steady rhythm of three. It swung open almost immediately, revealing Wu Jing. She scanned the surroundings like a secret agent ensuring the area was clear, then hastily pulled them inside. The door clicked shut with a sense of finality.

Wu Jing's apartment was a tapestry of paradoxes: dim yet cozy, cluttered but lived-in. Dotted with cultural artifacts, plants struggling towards the sunlight seeping through the windows, and shelves heavy with books that ranged from classic literature to cybernetics. The mismatched furniture seemed to say, "Hey, don't judge. It's functional."

Before Reid could launch into his inevitable interrogation, Wu Jing began to talk, her words tumbling over one another in a torrent of urgency. "I'm glad you're here. It took you long enough. There's not much time."

"Easy there. Take a breath," Reid tried to interject, but she kept talking as if propelled by some inner compulsion.

Archer raised a hand, his posture demanding silence. Reid sometimes wondered how one man could say so much by doing so little. For a moment, the room went quiet, a vacuum that seemed to suck away all the chaos that had just filled it.

Wu Jing seemed to finally notice her audience, her eyes flitting between Reid's engaging curiosity and Archer's implacable sternness. "I didn't bring you here to play games. I have something that could help your investigation."

Archer's eyes, those inscrutable sapphires, locked onto Wu Jing's, as if examining her very soul. Reid knew that look well. It was the look Archer gave when he was weighing truth against lie, measuring the worth of a statement not by its words, but by the intentions behind them.

"And why should we trust you? You've already gone snooping around," Reid raised an eyebrow, feeling a tickle of his usual, sarcastic humor rise up within him. "What's the guarantee this isn't some elaborate setup?"

"I brought you here because I thought you might actually have the wits to solve Michelle's murder," Wu Jing shot back, her eyes flaring with emotion.

Reid chuckled. "You know, flattery will get you everywhere."

Archer simply crossed his arms, the universal sign for "Get on with it."

As Reid and Archer stepped further inside, Wu Jing took a deep breath, as though trying to decide exactly where to start.

"I was Michelle's best friend," she finally began, breaking the silence that had taken over the room. "And I know about Edward Tay. About Olwen Nash, too."

Reid perched on the edge of a threadbare armchair. "Well, consider my curiosity piqued. Do go on."

"Michelle was depressed, but I know her, she'd never commit suicide. When that communicator turned up, it set off all kinds of alarms for me. That wasn't Michelle's style, to just disappear without a trace."

Reid raised an eyebrow. "When did you realize that yours truly had the magical communicator?"

Wu Jing hesitated for a moment, visibly wrestling with whether or not to divulge more. "I saw you chasing after Nobilm, asking about Kirby. Kirby's a whiz at engineering, so I put two and two together."

Reid leaned forward, locking eyes with her. "Hang on, how'd you even know where to look for me? For all you knew, I could've been hunting for Kirby to help me set up a Pinterest board or something."

Wu Jing's eyes flickered, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Reid's again. "It's my Ability. I get glimpses of the future sometimes. It's not consistent—could be a few minutes, could be years. I don't control it."

Archer, who'd been silent, gave Reid a look that seemed to blend skepticism with intrigue. Reid caught it and nodded slightly, the mental gears turning.

"A psychic. That would conveniently explain your uncanny knack for knowing I exist, not to mention your skill in locating me," Reid mused. "But let's circle back. What's the dirt on Edward and Olwen?"

Wu Jing's face turned a shade darker, her eyes narrowing. "Olwen is just a petulant child; jealous of Michelle, sure, but it's mostly work-related pissing contests. Edward, however, is a whole other level of vile. He manipulated Michelle, took compromising photos of her."

Reid's eyes flicked to Archer, who wasn't paying attention at the conversation. "And did you do anything to intervene? Forewarn Michelle, perhaps?"

"I did, but she didn't believe me," Wu Jing's voice tinged with a mix of anger and sorrow. "She turned on me when I told her one of my visions showed Edward betraying her."

Reid leaned back, taking it all in. Archer walked over to the window, pulling back the curtain just a smidgen as if considering the risks that lay outside, but Reid knew he was equally absorbed in weighing the risks of the conversation inside.

"Okay, let's say we buy into your precognition jazz. Why should we trust you? You could have set all these up and cried wolf." Reid's voice took on a sharper tone, each word meticulously chosen.

Archer returned from the window to stand next to Reid, his eyes piercing into Wu Jing as if to echo Reid's question. His physical closeness signaled unity, a quiet bulwark against potential deception.

Wu Jing looked from Archer to Reid, then sighed, as if releasing a burden she'd been carrying. " I want justice for Michelle. I may not have been able to protect her from herself, or from Edward, but maybe I can protect her legacy. Help you catch whoever did this."

Reid searched her eyes, then glanced at Archer, whose posture had not yet relaxed. It was as good as a verbal agreement between them. Reid smiled, but it was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Alright, Wu Jing. We'll make sure Michelle gets the justice she deserves, but remember—"

Reid paused, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her hold her breath.

"—if you're playing us, know that you're playing with fire. And not the kind that warms you on a chilly night. The kind that burns everything down."

Archer's eyes met Reid's, his stern expression softening for just a millisecond, a silent nod that said, "Well done."

Wu Jing looks between both of them before nodding.

"The police found you, did they?"

Wu Jing scoffed, "we both know how excellent they are in solving these mysteries."

"Fair," Reid nodded before turning his eyes to a trophy that stood on the shelf.

"Well, we will take our leave."

Wu Jing opened the door and ushered them out, "please make sure you find Michelle justice."

Reid smiled darkly, "of course." As the door was closing, Reid pushed it open slightly and stared into Wu Jing, the kind of stare that would reach into your soul, "nice trophy you have there, Wolf."

***

As they drove in silence, Reid finally broke it. "To the Batcave, Robin."

Archer glanced over, slightly confused.

"Step on it because we need to make it for the curtain call."

***

A mosaic of tension, anticipation, and starkly contrasting personalities filled the room at the Central Police Office on what was otherwise a lovely Saturday morning. Edward Tay, billionaire and professional curmudgeon, seemed as if he were perpetually on the verge of a conniption. He was seated but fidgeting, radiating annoyance like a bug zapper in a swamp. The only reason he was even there was Averyl, who managed to command the room even while doing absolutely nothing, had threatened him to turn up when Reid asked him to.

Averyl's calm and inscrutable presence made it easy to mistake him for the underworld's Don Corleone, rather than the President of the Everett Corporation. His eyes—those calculating, unfathomable eyes—had a way of making even the most courageous feel transparent and utterly understood.

Then there was Olwen Nash. Standing in one corner, eyes shifting and jittery, Olwen seemed as out of place as a snowflake in a desert. He sent nervous glances toward Edward and Wu Jing, his expression oscillating between bewilderment and sheer terror.

Across the room, Wu Jing stood a bit like a stoic statue, a lone pillar of composure amidst the chaos. She sat, not fidgeting or visibly agitated, unlike some others in the room.

Carlson Ren, less of a major player but not unimportant, leaned casually against a wall. He wore an expression of confusion that perfectly matched the general ambiance of bewilderment filling the air.

The police detective on duty, Alex Williams, tapped a rhythmic beat on the table as if counting down the seconds. His communicator sat on his wrist, begging for action.

Finally, Edward's patience—or lack thereof—snapped. "Would someone care to tell me why I'm wasting my Saturday morning here?"

Alex rolled his eyes theatrically. "Mr. Tay, your sense of entitlement is as astounding as it is unwelcome. So, how about we adopt a novel approach and you just—stay quiet?"

Edward's face morphed into a dangerous shade of crimson, his mouth opening to launch what would no doubt be a litany of grievances. But before he could unleash, the door swung open.

In came Reid, followed by Archer and Averyl. The collective mood shifted like a seesaw thrown off balance. Wu Jing perked up visibly, her posture straightening even more if that was possible. Edward, Olwen, and Carlson shot them a mixture of scowls and wary glances.

"Ah, the gang's all here," Alex quipped, rising from his chair. "We were getting close to rescheduling this for never."

"Alex! You missed me, you really missed me!" Reid's voice dripped with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Alex returned the eye roll he seemed to have mastered. "Like a root canal," he retorted before turning toward Averyl. "Mr. Averyl, always a pleasure."

"Likewise," Averyl responded, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey, "and please, call me Averyl."

Alex then turned to Archer, who merely pursed his lips—his equivalent of a paragraph. "I can't read that face of yours, Archer, but I'm glad you're here. Do you know how much time I spent babysitting Reid in the three years you were gone? I can actually spend some time with my daughter now!"

Reid stuck out his tongue at Alex who had tried to grab it. The two stopped when Averyl coughed.

Archer's eyes met Reid's for a brief moment, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew they had a room full of volatile elements, each with its own set of motives and secrets. Archer's eyes shifted for a microsecond, the barest hint of agreement with Alex's sentiment.

"Alright, folks," Reid finally said, clapping his hands together. "Now that we've all engaged in this delightful exercise of catching up and glaring at each other, can we move on to the matter at hand?"

"You mean the reason why everyone's Saturday is ruined?" Edward snarled, still simmering.

"Exactly," Reid replied, grinning as though he'd just solved a particularly challenging crossword. "Though some might argue that this could be the most exciting Saturday you've had in a while."

Carlson Ren, leaning off the wall, finally broke his silence. "Well, with that kind of buildup, this better be good."

"Oh, it will be," Reid promised, his eyes twinkling with that mix of mischief and intelligence that made him so effective—and so infuriating. "It will be."

As they settled into their seats, the room's atmosphere shifted from tense anticipation to something else—something electric. Archer remained standing, near where Reid was seated while Averyl had leaned on the door.

Reid glanced at Archer, who returned the look with a slight nod.

"So you have solved the mystery of Michelle Lim's murder?"

Reid cocked his head at Carlson before grinning, "of course."

"And the murderer is…"