CHAPTER 44: O’CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN | PHILTERWORKS—VI

  COMMONWEALTH INDUSTRIAL PARK—NOVEMBER 20th, 1992 | EARLY EVENING

  ?

  “Looks like you took quite the beating, Kessler,” Leroy said.

  “So did you,” Cameron retorted. “Look, we need to—”

  “The lycan. That’s her, isn’t it?” Leroy nodded to the woman on Cameron’s back, draped in a labcoat. Seemed like that was a last minute choice of wardrobe; otherwise she would’ve been flashing everyone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Right. Fill me in outside. We need to move.”

  Leroy brushed past them towards the atrium of the processing plant. Cameron followed suit, Guts whirred around him, and Janice’s footsteps echoed just behind them. There was no one left in the facility. No one but Emilio, who Leroy imagined was either a pile of burning flesh or a mass of pulp crushed beneath the debris. All of the guards had been dealt with, which only gave them one place to go: out. The sirens were practically shouting at them to do so anyways, and Leroy couldn’t argue with that.

  Cameron brushed in front of Leroy. “Leroy, hold on—”

  Leroy stepped in front of him to hold open the front doors to the processing plant.

  “Outside, now. Come on,” Leroy insisted, and turned to Janice to nod in her direction. “You too.”

  A crowd was waiting for them.

  Workers, mostly. Factory laborers from the Drychus Steelmill, lumberjacks from Ridgeway Lumber, miners from Adamson Mining Company. All of them had been on a smoke break, were in the middle of switching shifts, or, they had been drawn to the area out of sheer curiosity; like gruff moths drawn to a gruffer flame. Explosions, Leroy imagined, weren’t unheard of further along the Commonwealth Industrial Park. The miners in particular were probably used to it. Expected it, even, but not from the inside of Bluestein Philterworks. That was different. That was news.

  “Move!” Leroy yelled. The crowd was dumbfounded. Leroy threw an arm back and pointed to the facility. “I said move, damn it! There’s sirens in there, and hell, I don’t know what that means other than to get out of the way. Place might blow, and unless you’re planning on collecting workers comp from underneath a pile of rubble and alchemical toxins, I’d move. Quickly.”

  It took him a moment to realize that some of the workers he’d seen from inside were gathered among the crowd. Those gray jumpsuits with the Bluestein Philterworks logo stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Janice cleared her throat, and lightly tapped Leroy’s arm.

  “What?” Leroy snapped.

  “The sirens go off if there is an alchemical leak, which may lead to an explosion, but at the very least, it tells us we should not be in there,” Janice clarified.

  “Yeah. I gathered that, Janice, thanks,” Leroy replied, curtly with a tone that made her face flash red with embarrassment.

  “Don’t be a dick. She’s trying to help,” Cameron said, stepping up to him.

  Leroy opened and closed his mouth, and then tipped his checkered flat cap to Janice. “Sorry."

  “No, it’s okay. Either way, you’re right. We ought to stand clear, just in case,” she said, stepping past them and into the crowd.

  “Go on, get the hell out of here,” Leroy said, his voice louder than before, and plainly directed at the large group that lingered with a bit more than passing interest. His authority, or lack thereof, was met by further dazed and confused faces, and Leroy exhaled sharply, removing his P89 from under his coat jacket.

  Their collective surprise deepened when he fired a warning shot into the air. And another. And another.

  Workers readily dispersed, and Leroy imagined that his antics might bite him in the ass soon, but for now, this was the path of least resistance, and it ensured everyone moved in the not-so-off chance that everything behind them went catatonic.

  They paced forward and stood idle among the brick-layed road just beyond the cast-iron fencing that created a perimeter around Bluestein Philterworks’ processing plant. Cameron groaned and grunted, and found a wooden palette nearby to place down the woman on his back. Leroy glanced at her. She looked skinny. Not quite emaciated, but like she’d been without a proper meal in weeks. Her cheeks were somewhat gaunt, but her eyes weren’t quite sunken.

  “Janice, I need a favor from you," Leroy said.

  Janice had been staring at the woman on the palette. “Yeah?”

  “Find the nearest phone, call the Civic and Occult Authority. Ask for Captain Holmes, and when they put him on the line, tell him that Leroy Waters just finished up an arbitration contract at Bluestein Philterworks.”

  “Right,” she said with a nod. “There’s a phone booth not far from here. I’ll handle it.”

  Cameron grabbed Janice by the wrist before she could depart. “Hey. Thanks.”

  Janice glanced over the woman in the lab coat, and Leroy caught wind of something on her face. Hidden in those brown eyes of hers was a lingering guilt. A sadness, maybe. That pairing spared no one and weighed heavier on some more than others. For Janice, it seemed like an anvil that brought her spirits down in spite of their successful evacuation. Without any further words, she departed.

  Guts stared at Leroy, and Leroy stared back. The greenish white will-o-wisp seemed content, and Leroy couldn’t help but release a stifled laugh.

  Cameron quickly regarded Guts and turned back to Leroy. “Her name’s Tania. Tania Ackermann. The lycan, the one they were drawing blood from.”

  Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “Where was she?”

  “Janice showed me. There was another room, armed with some Argent Group guys.”

  Leroy smirked. “And you took them out? Without transforming?”

  “I’m missing half of my right ear and I can barely feel my right arm. Pretty sure it’s still bleeding, too. So, no, Leroy, I didn’t transform. What kind of stupid fucking question is that?”

  Leroy held up both of his hands. “Easy, Kessler. It’s a compliment.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t need your compliments,” Cameron retorted. He reached along his belt loop and withdrew one of four vials of pasteurized demon blood, chugged it with a pained expression, and threw the glass onto the ground.

  “So you got shot. It go straight through, or is it still lodged in there?”

  “Straight through. This vial should cover that, slowly but surely, but I’m not sure about this,” Cameron said, pointing to his right ear.

  “Would need a double dose for that.”

  “Not worth the hangover, if it’s as bad as you make it out to be,” Cameron said.

  “Ugly is a good look on you, Kessler. But there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.”

  Cameron furrowed his brows. “So, what do we do with her?”

  Leroy glanced over at Tania. If it were up to the Order of the Wardens, they’d execute her for what she was. Fiends were allowed into Brinehaven, but the Pines were another matter entirely. Commonwealth or not, the hinterlands and pine trees answered only to the Order and the Argent Group, both of which weren't fond of fiends. Hell, there would probably be a pretty price for her head, but Leroy’s greater sensibilities—or maybe it was empathy—forced him to erase that thought from his mind the moment it emerged. With a groan, he clasped both hands around the back off his head, and paced back and forth.

  Metal creaked behind them. And then it screamed.

  Cameron flinched. Guts stirred in a hurried frenzy. Leroy almost thought to leap to the ground to find cover.

  Concrete whined and twisted and turned as the facility that they’d just exited suffered another string of explosions. Windows and glass shattered, and part of the roof caved in. Smoke sizzled and steam hissed through the newly formed fault-lines that plagued the structure like a patchwork of disaster. Fumes filled the air, and trails of colored vapor leaked out from what used to be Bluestein Philterwork's processing plant.

  It wasn't looking good. But it was far from Leroy’s problem. Maudre Dupre and whoever she answered to would need to figure that out for themselves; assuming they were still around after this whole thing was over.

  Leroy cleared his throat. “When Captain Holmes gets here, he'll want statement. He’ll need one from the both of us. And Tania. I’ll bet she has enough of a testimony to bring down Bluestein Philterworks for good. Something like that.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “And what if they go after you? After us? Can’t imagine they’ll stand for this,” Cameron asked.

  “They can try. But we had an arbitration contract, which means we’re in the clear,” Leroy said.

  Cameron set his jaw. “Right. And what if they put out an arbitration note for your head, or my head?”

  Leroy removed his checkered flat cap and shook the dust out of it. “People with criminal records or pending investigations can’t hire arbiters. Whatever Tania has to say will be corroborated by me and you. Everything that happened here will result in a trial. You remember Charles Hhaledi, Brinehaven’s district attorney? He’ll have a damn field day with all of this."

  Then again, Maude expected Leroy to arrive, and more than likely set up Emilio and the Argent Group to deal with him. It was evident that Bluestein Philterworks cared little about the law in that regard, and their choice to ignore the Commonwealth's edicts were made more obvious, perhaps, by what they were willing to do to Tania, and moreover, their willingness to distribute an untested alchemical concoction throughout Cyprus Alley.

  “How could I forget,” Cameron muttered. “Look. That’s all well and good, Leroy, but I’m asking about her. About Tania, after the trial, after these guys at Bluestein get put away."

  Leroy glanced at her. “Don’t know.”

  “Don’t know? Alright, then I’ll start. We help her.”

  “And why would we do that, Kessler?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said.

  Leroy smiled a big half-smile. “Mr. Hero over here.”

  “I’m serious, Leroy.”

  “Yeah, alright, I’ll bite. Help her how, Kessler? What can you do for her? Show her around the town? Take her out for a nice drink or two? Look. What happens to her isn’t our responsibility. Let Captain Holmes handle it. It’s what he’s there for.”

  “Alright, then when it’s said and done, we ask her if she needs anything. Is that such a fucking stretch? As far as we know, when the Civic and Occult Authority is done with her, she’ll be walking into a city confused as all hell without a damn clue what to do.”

  Leroy opened his mouth and closed it in disbelief. “You know what? Fine, Kessler.”

  Cameron stood up and paced over towards Leroy. Their matching signet rings hummed, and for a moment, Leroy thought he was going to raise a fist. His hand was clenched tight, and the veins along Cameron’s wrist bulged, and there was some strange brand of anger spread across his face. Frustration, maybe. Or indignation.

  Leroy waited for him to try something. Welcomed it. But all he did was point a finger. That was it. The rings didn’t register any reason to stop Cameron from pressing a firm finger into Leroy’s chest.

  “You’ve got more problems than I care to say out loud, ‘cause frankly, asshole, I don’t know where the trouble began with you, or why you are the way you are. But I know why I am the way I am, and I know that I don’t have to be like you. I’m learning that the longer that I have to work with you—learning that I have the choice to be better than I was. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Leroy grabbed his finger and pushed it aside. “Do that, Kessler. Let me know how well it works out for you.”

  ?

  It was evening by the time Captain Holmes arrived with his entourage. Proper evening. Overhead the night sky was a brilliant black-blue, and the stars gleamed in a way that they could never hope to in the city. Brinehaven’s boroughs snuffed out nature in favor of concrete, steel, neon, and all of the good, bad, and ugly parts of urbanity. Out in the Pines, even amidst the twenty-four-hour clamor of the Commonwealth Industrial Park, they made Leroy wonder what the hell he was still doing in that forsaken city.

  But in truth, he knew. He knew well why he stayed, and so too did Yaerzul, and yet thinking about it forced out memories that were better left buried.

  Janice had returned after placing the call, and took it upon herself to monitor Tania for any changes. Tania was still out cold, and Leroy expected she wouldn’t be up for a while. A long while. Or maybe he wasn’t giving her enough credit where credit was due; he didn’t know the full extent of a lycan’s regenerative capacities.

  Booted footsteps approached. Captain Holmes had an entourage with him, and Leroy exhaled upon noticing the all too familiar Constable Briggs, in all of his rotund glory, and Constable Heathcliff, whose tall and lithe stature still made him look more ghostly creature than man. Captain Holmes was a picture standing between them: a filled-out muscular frame, just tall enough to demand passing respect from a stranger, with those beady, oxen eyes of his.

  Leroy turned to Cameron.

  “Yeah,” Cameron said, nodding before Leroy could even get the words out. “I know. You talk, I don’t. Anything else?”

  Leroy grimaced, and paced towards the approaching group.

  Captain Holmes rested a hand on his hip, glancing at the smoke, dust, and alchemical vapor leaking from the half-compromised processing plant behind Leroy. “Minister Rostavich won’t be happy about this one, Leroy.”

  Leroy glanced over his shoulder, re-assessing the damage. “No. He won’t. What’d you hear on the phone, exactly?”

  Constable Heathcliff and Constable Briggs remained silent, standing to either side of Captain Holmes like two taciturn statues of black-buttoned uniforms and equipment belts.

  “I heard what you told the damn woman to say, Leroy. That you finished an arbitration contract at Bluestein Philterworks—at least what’s left of it. Need to see the contract. Now.”

  Leroy reached into the inside of his coat pocket, where he withdrew the folded paper that Ruby Shakur had signed, and flashed it in Captain Holmes’ face. “Happy?”

  Captain Holmes snatched it out of his face and mulled it over. “Happy as can be, Leroy. You got anything else for me, or do you want to keep me in the dark until this goes to trial? Throw me a bone here. All I’ve got to go on is that you did a contract.”

  Leroy glanced over his shoulder again, eyes settling onto Janice and Tania. “And you’re choosing not to read it. I’ll give you the short of it. There were some murders in Cyprus Alley, and a new alchemical drug was involved. I was tasked with killing the guy who committed the murders, finding out where the drug was manufactured, and shutting down the facility.”

  Captain Holmes narrowed his gaze. “The drug. What's it called?"

  “Ether,” Leroy stated.

  “Been hearing a thing or two about that through the grapevine. Incidents here and there, but as far as the Civic and Occult Authority is aware, its distribution was still in its infancy. Guess we don’t have much to worry about now,” Captain Holmes said.

  “Bluestein was using Cyprus Alley as a testing ground, more or less, to work out the kinks. See how ether made people tick, skipping the red tape, gathering data so that they could finalize this shit and put it onto the shelves faster,” Leroy explained. “That woman over there, in the labcoat, she’s a victim. Been held her for I don’t know how long.”

  Captain Holmes’ eyes widened. “What?”

  “She’s a lycan. Her blood was needed, and as if you know lycans you know—”

  “They regenerate,” Captain Holmes stated. A grim look washed over his face, and it was clear to Leroy that Captain Holmes more or less understood what had happened with her. It didn’t need to be said aloud, and Leroy doubted Captain Holmes wanted to hear it from his mouth. “Unless they’re shot with silver, doused in wolfsbane, and so on—it's one of the first things we learn in the academy. Look, we’ll take care of her, get a testimony. I’ll need one from you and your underarbiter when we hand this over to Hhaledi. Case like this? We’ll need all of the eyewitnesses we can get.”

  “The one in the jumpsuit, Janice. She knew the ins-and-outs of the processing plant. Let the record state she helped us with this, alright?”

  Captain Holmes nodded. “Sure, Leroy.”

  Constable Heathcliff cleared his throat. A shrill, scholarly voice exited his lips. “Would she not be an accomplice, technically, to the crime of—”

  “Quiet,” hissed Constable Briggs, who nudged the taller man in the gut.

  Captain Holmes glared at the two of them, held up Leroy’s arbitration contract, and tucked it inside his jacket. “The kid looks pretty beat up. You too. Care to share with the class what went down in there?”

  Leroy's attention drifted elsewhere. In the absence of a Civic and Occult cruiser was a transport vehicle, a larger truck with a steel-reinforced frame. Men and women donned in kevlar carrying handguns and semi-automatic rifles lingered around it. Some smoked, others were engaged in idle chatter, but there was one among them who was on his way over.

  “Argent Group. Kessler and I got into a scuffle with them,” Leroy explained.

  “And now they’re dead,” Captain Holmes sighed. “I’ll let you explain that to—”

  “Dean Dresker.” The voice was gruff and smokey, bravado and cigarettes in equal parts.

  Leroy had heard a lot of names in his day. Dean Dresker wasn’t one of them. His hair was slightly receded along his widow’s peak, a dirty blonde that was more dirt than blond. Under his kevlar vest was a gray workwear jacket. Permanent stitches ran up along one side of his face, and his eyes were a deep brown that looked black under the evening light. A tattoo was on the front of his neck: a skull biting down on a sideways letter A. He had a big knife attached to his hip, a bullet magazine, a handgun, and rings. A lot of rings. Rings were marked with runes. Artificed rings.

  “Leroy. Leroy Waters. Arbiter,” Leroy said.

  Captain Holmes pivoted and turned to face Dean, hand resting on his hip.

  “They’re all dead, then?” Dean asked plainly, not looking at Leroy.

  Leroy cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  Dean sniffed and rubbed his nose. It was a tick, only a step or two away from a craze-induced impulse. A meditation, maybe, to prevent him from lashing out. There was something predatory in the way that the man carried himself, like the Pines themselves had nurtured him into whatever the hell he was now, which Leroy suspected to be a man of certain capabilities and drastic action.

  “Good men, they were. Good men,” Dean said.

  Captain Holmes cleared his throat. “We’ll be needing an escort back to Silver Pines, Mr. Dresker.”

  Dean stared at Leroy. “Yeah, alright. Five?”

  Leroy glanced over his shoulder. Cameron, who was situated along the wooden palette he’d placed Tania on, glared back at him, and crossed both arms over his chest. Janice waved. “Seven. The good captain and his dogs, and those three over there.”

  Without a word, Dean paced back to the Argent Group transport vehicle and began barking orders. Seemed he was some sort of shot-caller, but Leroy couldn’t guess what his rank or title might’ve been. At the very least, he wasn’t in charge of their whole operation. Decision makers were often the ones in offices, sitting pretty with a pen in hand. Dean Dresker wasn’t a decision maker. He was the muscle.

  Captain Holmes grabbed Leroy by the arm and pulled him closer, staring into him with two oxen eyes that looked like a pair of warnings. “Listen to me, Leroy—”

  Leroy cupped his own ear. “Uh-huh. Listening, O’ Captain my Captain.”

  Captain Holmes tightened his grip around Leroy’s arm. “I’m serious here, Leroy. Herders like that don’t give a damn about your arbiter’s license, and their respect for my badge is a formality at best. Be lucky I’m here, or he would’ve tried to make a go at you. When we're in the back of that transport, it'll be just us, but word to the wise? Around him, you stay tight-lipped. When he drops us off, not even a goodbye from you. Not a peep that might put a target on your back. God knows you’ve already got too many of those.”

  Leroy bit the insides of his cheeks, and slowly exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Kessler!”

  Cameron glanced up. Guts whirred and waited for him to make a move.

  “We’re moving. Grab the girl, bring her to that hunk of steel over there,” Leroy said, pointing to the Argent Group vehicle. Captain Holmes treaded back towards it, with Constable Heathcliff and Briggs following suit.

  Janice lingered, and Leroy urged her towards him with two fingers. “You too, Janice.”

  herders' this chapter. I believe the term has been used in earlier chapters, but a herder is just a slang word for a member of the Argent Group, more or less in reference to how their primary* duty is that of private escort security for the main road of the Pines. Hence, they herd people like they do sheep. Now that the arbitration contract is technically completed, you won't be seeing any more of the 'PHILTERWORKS' addendums to the chapter titles either from this point forward.

  (Emphasis on the word primary--because as these recent batch of chapters showed, they can also simply be hired to work regular security jobs, and for the right price will extend themselves to other tasks as they did for Emilio.)

  LEROY WATERS

  CAMERON KESSLER

  GUTS

  JANICE OLIVERA

  TANIA ACKERMAN

  DEAN DRESKER

  CAPTAIN HOLMES

  CONSTABLE BRIGGS

  CONSTABLE HEATHCLIFF

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