Meanwhile, Midas, John, and Sakarah arrived at the crime scene.
Feline, their onboard assistant, announced the arrival. But as they stepped out, they saw police already crawling over the area.
Midas frowned. "What on Mars are these swinies doing here?"
Sakarah reminded him calmly, "There were NPICs—Non-Protection Insured Civilians—killed. That gives the police jurisdiction. At least on paper."
Detective Butch was on scene, along with Christopher, the young recruit, and his older, grizzled partner. The two had been surveying the wreckage for hours.
"What do you think happened?" Christopher asked.
The older detective shrugged. "None of my damn business, if you ask me. And none of yours, if you try hard enough not to care."
They turned to see John, Midas, and Sakarah walking up.
"Great," the partner muttered. "Here comes Trouble Incorporated."
Christopher eyed the trio. "Who are they?"
The older detective gave him a look. "Kid, you sure you're from around this city?"
"Actually no," Christopher said. "I grew up in Sunny Shade City."
"Figures. That one there," he nodded at John, "they call him Ripley. And the other one, the meaner-looking one? That's Midas. You ever hear of the Metheon Lab Crisis?"
Christopher's eyes widened. "The deadly cyber-terrorist group—Scaret. Hijacked the ASM3-modified weapons facility. They said—"
"They said," the older detective interrupted, "when the cleanup crew arrived... there was nothing to clean except Ripley, they found him there at the cafeteria having a pop soda."
Christopher blinked. "Why? That wasn't in the news."
"Exactly. Because when that man moves, there's a pattern. One too dark for headlines. Other Retributors say he's the monster other monsters are afraid of."
Meanwhile, John and Midas approached Butch, who stood stone-faced.
"What do you two think you're doing here?" Butch asked, clearly irritated.
Midas opened his mouth, but John calmly raised a hand to stop him. "Butch. Nice to see you."
"I wouldn't say the same, especially about him," Butch muttered, eyeing Midas.
"How many civilians are we talking about?" John asked.
Butch huffed. "Enough to get my balls wet. The old man won't like it, and Cox definitely won't either, "
John nodded. "Then how about we handle this—just you and us. Quietly."
"You mean... like a partnership?" Butch asked warily.
Before John could respond, Midas exploded. "Partnership? You know the rules, Butch! We can't sanction that it's not happening."
Butch raised a hand. "You want information? Get off my scene, and maybe I'll throw you a crumb."
John stepped in, voice cold. "Or I call the boss, and you can have a nice long chat with him. Over coffee."
Butch cursed under his breath, pacing.
"I don't agree to any of this," Midas growled. "This is Retributor territory."
Butch turned sharply. "Twenty-six civilians—men, women, children—murdered. You think I'm going to walk away from that?"
John saw the media drones hovering, reporters whispering. Too much visibility. Too many risks. Then Sakarah stepped forward.
"What do you think happened to them?" she asked Butch.
"They were murdered by that damn retro," he spat.
Sakarah smiled thinly. "You're sure? That sounds like a baseline accusation."
"It's not baseless. We've got evidence—"
"That's good, Then You do realize that under Criminal Statute 12.44-A, murders involving Retributors are under the Council's jurisdiction only?"
Butch hesitated. Sakarah leaned in slightly, if it concerned the council they would never authorize an investigation, they never did.
"And Statute 10.91-C says the police can only intervene if civilians are still alive and give authorizations. None are."
There was a long silence. Butch stared at her, jaw tight. The media drones swiveled their attention. John smirked.
"Damn - ,"
"Language, Officer of the law!" Midas grinned.
Butch muttered and sighed. "This isn't over, I will go have a word with the council, I will be back," he turned to his men." wrap all the evidence, we are taking them along, "
" What are you doing? "Midas asked angrily.
"It seems we got murder off our books, so we are investigating a case of arson and destruction to private properties, think your friend can out quote us on that?"
Sakarah knew better. It was a loop sided argument. She would not.
"Make sure not to take anything else," John ended the conversation.
This time, Butch got the winning hand. He had played a quick one, this time.
Elsewhere, Christopher and his partner continued their conversation.
"You know, Butch wasn't always like this. Back in the day, he was just like you. Bright-eyed. Hungry."
Christopher listened quietly.
"They call this the City of Dreams, but it's mostly nightmares. His wife was shot. Wrong place, wrong time. A retributor chasing a perp opened fire near their car. She bled out in the front seat, he didn't know about it until they got home."
Christopher looked shaken. "That's awful."
"Yeah. Butch never took time to mourn. Next day, he was back on the beat. Different though. Hollow. Angry. We all knew he was still in pain. Still is."