Chapter Thirty: Calvin V. Cooper

- East of the Rosenstein Empire, In the Capital of the Arza Republic -

"Looks like someone went batshit insane in here."

A man in an overcoat step into a room full of blood and gore. His shaggy brown hair sways as the draft blows into the building. A stubble of a beard could be faintly made out from the darkness of the night. Complete with rugged and manly western features, it is as if he stepped out of a detective movie. Upon the floor, a mass of bodies lies scattered. Most of them killed by a single stroke of a blade to their throats, a few with a dagger piercing through their heart. He walks over the bodies and through the pools of blood. He closely examines the dead, sometimes flipping their bodies over. He glances at the numerous daggers that littered close by the bodies.

"Death by suicide. Either by slitting their throats or from stabbing their hearts."

He concludes the state of the bodies. His suspicion of this being a mass suicide becomes even more with how the room is. Other than the pools of blood, nothing else was disturbed. If a fight broke out, the bodies would have more injuries and the room would have been more in a mess than it is currently. He reaches into his coat's pocket and fishes out a box of cigarettes. With his flip lighter, he lights it and takes in a puff. He exhales and a stream of smoke escapes out through his mouth.

"Shit. There goes my lead."

He had been tracking these deviant's activities for over a week. He had taken on a request. It is his first request since he found himself in this world. It has been close to a few months and he had been living from the grace of those who were willing to give. His name is Calvin Vince Cooper. His previous profession or career is that of a detective for the N.Y.P.D. for close to twenty years.

"This fucking reeks."

Not describing the stench of the bodies but rather the odd circumstance that surrounds them. Who would be willing to kill themselves, especially those criminals who think nothing but themselves? The whole situation is suspicious.

"This reminds me of that piece of shit."

Calvin recalls his nemesis back in New York City. One of the most wanted criminal masterminds that ran most of the illegal activities in NYC. He went under the alias "JACK" with his true identity shrouded in mystery. There was also a "JILL" but when Calvin attempted an arrest, she promptly killed herself by jumping off a six-story building. JACK and JILL were, surprisingly, siblings but also lovers as well. He learned of this when Calvin was finally able to put the criminal down. JACK had already taken too many things away from him. There was simply no reasons or motives; many of his colleagues speculated that he was just plain insane. It was not until he finally confronted JACK that he had a conversation with him.

"This shitty world can go burn along with every piece of shit along with it."

"Especially you, Detective Cooper."

It was in that confrontation that Calvin killed JACK. In exchange, Calvin was heavily injured. He had received many shots and bled out before anyone could stem it. Calvin did not regret it. Now, even in this world, he is reminded of JACK.

With his steps thumping on the wooden floorboards as he made his way through the room, he reaches an office within the depths of the building. A fairly large room, decorated lavishly with vases, chairs, a desk, and curtains. In the seat behind the ornate desk, a limp body lies seated.

Upon examining the dead man, Calvin could tell that something is different compared to the others. Upon closer inspection, a letter knife has been plunged into the right eye of the victim. His expression frozen in a state of shock and fear. His death was almost instantaneous.

"Doesn't look like he killed himself. There should have been a third party..."

Calvin examines the office more thoroughly but in the end, he still could not find anything concrete. With another puff of his cigarette, he discards the remaining butt in between his lips.

"Didn't expect to use my abilities here."

Calvin lights another cigarette and then his eyes glow a mysterious blue hue. Using what clues and evidence gathered, he tries to reconstruct the scene. A ghostly apparition of the recently deceased man then begins to animate before him. With his vague clues, the apparition only had a faint silhouette. From his body language, Calvin can glean more information on what transpired.

"Looks like there is a third party."

The visuals static, it was like watching a scene going around four or five frames a second. There is another person, though like a wisp of smoke. Its form indefinite, neither a female nor a male in shape. Roughly human-shaped, those are the only thing that Calvin could collect from it.

The next thing that happens is the third-party's quick hand motions and the letter knife sails across the air. It plunges into the man's chest, piercing his heart, and he falls backward onto his seat and his arms become limp. The phantom man finally overlaps with the corpse sitting on the chair.

"The fucker got double-crossed," Calvin speaks. "Seems like someone doesn't want me sniffing around so they offed him."

"A fairly well-known player in the black market of this city, and he gets killed just like that."

"I don't like it."

With another puff of smoke, he gathers all the remaining clues he could and walks on out of the office. Of course, Calvin grabbed as much gold coins that he could pocket. He quickly steps over all the corpses and makes his back out of the building without even a glance back.

With heavy steps, he walks back towards his current residence. Still contemplating about the mysterious deaths.

"Before I could even finish the job, they all kicked the bucket. Hope I can still get the commission fee."

Finishing the last puff, he takes his cigarette butt and flings it. There is nothing that he could do about it; the only consolation is that he would not have to worry about this month or the next if he becomes thrifty with his current money.