Fog, silence, and something waiting in the dark...
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The alley was a maze of crooked stone and flickering gaslight.
Donarenzo moved first, eyes sharp, body low. His boots made no sound over the slick cobblestone as he followed the faint smear of blood—just a single footprint, light and precise.
It was not the gait of a brute. It was something faster. Trained.
Lucien stayed close, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade-cane. "Whoever it is," he muttered, "they're not panicking. They want to be followed."
"Perfect," Archibalt replied with a dry grin, "because I love walking into obvious traps."
They turned the corner and found it—a collapsed warehouse, half-eaten by rust and ivy, its doors slightly ajar. Faint trails of smoke drifted from within, bitter and chemical. Lucien's nose wrinkled.
"Alchemical residue," he said. "Deliberate. Recent."
Without a word, Donarenzo pushed the door open.
Immediately, they spotted a figure.
The stranger attempted to make an escape, but the crew hastily gave chase. The figure jumped onto a platform, maneuvered through a window, and vanished onto the roof of the warehouse.
Archibalt was the first to charge ahead; Donarenzo followed, with Lucien close behind.
The figure leaped off the roof and onto a stretch of rickety scaffolding. It ran along railings, vaulted over crates, and darted through the open windows of nearby houses.
"Shit," Archibalt muttered. "Lucien, you take the lead!"
"With pleasure."
Lucien dashed toward Archibalt and used his partner's shoulders as a springboard to vault onto the steel steps. He sprinted upward until he reached the rooftop. He darted from roof to roof, hoping to create a shortcut to intercept the target.
To his luck, he spotted the figure slipping into a narrow alleyway. He followed immediately, jumping from the rooftop and landing in a pile of trash to break his fall.
Then, he faced the figure head-on.
"I must say, you really gave those two imbeciles a run for their money," Lucien said, his grip tightening on his cane. "But I'm a different story."
Silence followed.
Lucien dashed toward the figure, swinging his cane ferociously. The figure dodged each strike swiftly.
"You're nimble," Lucien noted.
The figure retaliated with quick, open-hand strikes. Lucien blocked each one with the shaft of his cane. He then flipped his grip and hooked the figure's legs.
"I got you," he said with confidence. He pulled the cane toward him, tripping the target. He jumped, attempting to drive a kick straight into their gut, but the figure broke the fall with their arms and twisted their body to avoid the impact.
The figure bounced back up and started throwing consecutive strikes. One strike to the face. Another to the knees. Then, an uppercut.
"Damn it…" Lucien spat, wiping blood from his lip. "You're not just nimble. You're trained."
The figure struck Lucien in the side of the neck. His cane hand dropped limp, his fingers twitching. Lucien switched the cane to his left hand—slower, less precise.
"I'm afraid I can't let you out-skill me," he growled.
He kicked up his cane and threw it, aiming straight for the figure's head. The figure blocked it swiftly, but Lucien was just as quick. He closed the gap and landed a devastating blow.
CRACK.
"Dead center," Lucien whispered.
The figure fell to the floor, twitching.
"A strike to the solar plexus." Lucien looked down in pity. "Not even the most seasoned of fighters can handle a blow like that. However, I guess I can't even begin to call you a veteran."
Lucien took a deep breath, relishing his victory. "Losing to my left hand… how pitiful."
He walked over to retrieve his cane.
"Pitiful?" a voice asked.
Lucien looked back in shock. "How—"
THWACK.
"ARRGGHH!"
Lucien took a hit straight to the head and fell unconscious.
"Lucien!"
Just in time, Archibalt and Donarenzo made their entrance. Archibalt muttered to himself in shock, "That person just took out Lucien…"
"Donnie, prepare yourself," Archibalt said. "If it's two-on-one, we might have a chance."
"Alright then, Arch. Take the lead."
Archibalt immediately grabbed nearby trash and hurled it at the figure. Donarenzo followed up by running across the wall and delivering a flying kick toward the head.
The figure blocked the attack—fast.
Archibalt saw an opening and attempted to tackle the figure into the wall, but the target vaulted over him. The figure dashed toward Donarenzo and traded blows with him. A left hook hit the figure, followed by a right uppercut and a kick toward the liver.
SWOOSH.
The figure dodged the final strike and retaliated with its own kick to Donarenzo's ribs. Archibalt, recovering from his earlier move, grabbed the figure by the waist—but he hesitated.
He paid dearly for it.
"Arch, we could've won! Why did you hesitate?" Donarenzo yelled while fighting back.
"Donnie... it's a woman," Archibalt said with a look of shame.
"W-wait, a woman!?"
CRACK.
The figure hit Donarenzo right on the bridge of his nose.
"Surpriiiise!"
Archibalt took a step back, and Donarenzo slowly lowered his fists.
"What?"
Silence hung in the air.
"Are you still too scared to hit a woman, Donnie?" the figure mocked.
Donarenzo choked on his words.
"Do you know this woman, Donnie?" Archibalt asked in confusion.
"Alice…?"
"Bingo."
The woman stepped into the light, a smirk playing on her lips. "Took you long enough to put the pieces together. And you call yourselves detectives?"