Chapter 8

  You know that stereotypical delinquent walk that you see in anime? The one where the guy shoves both hands in his pockets, sticks his elbows out wider than humanly possible, and hunches over so far his chin looks like it's leading the douchebag parade? Well, up until a few minutes ago I was under the impression that was just a trope that never actually occurred in the wild. As it turned out, our party's newest member so fully embodied the ideal of The Delinquent that he wore it like an overzealous cosplay. Swap out the stereotypical anime pompadour hairstyle for Raif's spiked mohawk, and he'd be a perfect match for Kuwabara from Yu Yu Hakusho... Except Kuwabara had redeeming qualities, but, as far as I could tell, Raif had none.

  I could tell that Joan did not support my request to have the two jailbirds join our party. While I definitely didn't have a good relationship with Raif, any negative feelings I had were completely overshadowed by the utter disdain that Joan wielded toward the walking punk cliche. The inclusion of the two new party members wasn't just a strain on my patience, but it was asking Joan to make a huge sacrifice on my behalf. I hated the idea of causing any discomfort to my own personal savior, and this decision had piled on the ultimate discomfort.

  Since adding Raif and Tara to the party, Joan has had the perpetual red highlight of an individual carrying imminent hostile intent toward a member of our party. I didn't blame her. In fact, it was an extra level of comfort to see that she had not lowered her guard for even a moment. The realization of that selfish comfort just added to the debts that I owed the golden haired heroine.

  While I had talked to Riff in the main room of the sheriff's office, I had suspected Joan had some choice words for the walking blasphemy of Sid Vicious. I could only guess as to what she actually said, but it clearly had some effect. Since joining the party, Raif had dropped his incredibly creepy attempts to force Joan into what appeared to be a one-way open relationship between him and Tara. He'd also kept his personal attacks against me to a minimum. The odd thing was that when Joan had shared the suspected choice words, she should have had no idea I'd ask to have them join us. Maybe Joan could read me better than I thought. Actually, if she'd predicted what I was going to do, she somehow knew be better than I knew myself.

  Knowing myself? The thought that someone understood me better than myself suddenly didn't seem so impressive. Years of counseling about the distorted views I held regarding myself should have made it clear that I might know myself worse than most. For a time, I was given homework to look at myself in a full length mirror multiple times per day. Technically I had never been told to stop the treatment, but I hated what I saw so much that I only managed to participate in the treatment for a week or so before completely scrapping it. Stacy and I had actually argued because she had wanted a mirror in the bathroom, an obvious inclusion for any normally functioning human on the planet, but for me it was a forced confrontation with a person I wasn't ready to see. After the recent betrayal, I had shattered the bathroom mirror. Stacy made it clear she couldn't stand looking at me, and in that regard, we were the same. So the idea that Joan could read me like a book and had a much more accurate view of me than myself was less shocking than eye opening for me.

  How did she see me?

  Joan most definitely knew the real reason I had the two new party members join us, and it had nothing to do with Raif, at least not directly. The petite green haired pixie cut punk walking at Raif's side was the deciding factor. Even as she walked beside her boyfriend, I could tell that the person we were seeing was very different from her real self. If I had to describe the aura she gave off, I would say that she was a doll, dressed and made up in an idealized image for the benefit of someone other than herself. Whether that someone was a single person or society in general, I couldn't fully tell. But a quick glance into her penetrating green eyes told me know that she wore a mask. I knew that look. I carried the same look, or at least I suspected I did.

  When we had first discovered Raif and Tara they were locked in a cell. But the physical cage that held Tara was a minor inconvenience compared to the cage that I witnessed in her eyes.

  The obvious interpretation was that Raif was an abusive asshole, and Tara had become codependent. I suspected that at least had something to do with the cage hidden behind her mask, but I suspected there was much more depth to her situation. It would be insulting to put her into the bin of abused women and act like some sort of self righteous personal savior to rescue her from the evil abusive boyfriend. First, I was in no position to act as if I knew what was better for her than she did. But more importantly, to act as if her identity could be boiled down into abused woman minimized the human I saw caged within her eyes. No human should be boiled into a single category, except for maybe Raif, although I realized my own personal biases made it easier to strip Raif of any humanity in my eyes... Which I also understood made me a hypocrite.

  I was no savior. There was only one savior in this party, and she strode beside me with her sunflower sundress flowing dramatically in the breeze. If there was someone who could save anyone, it was her. And even if Tara were to be saved, my motivations were not at all heroic. I wanted to know the person in the cage. I wanted to solve the puzzle, and meet the Tara who had been locked away. If I could do that, then maybe Joan could save me the same way. If the real Tara could face the world, then my own situation wasn't so hopeless. Tara was just a means to an end, or at least that's what I told myself. I'd rather accept my selfishness than try to see any goodness in my choices to intervene in her life.

  Besides, I realized something back at the sheriff's office. As much as I would like to think I was the hero of this story, or at least the goofy sidekick, that was not my role. Joan could be the hero, or Tara... Definitely not Raif, he was a fucking Disney villain at best. And I was not the villain either. I wasn't even a random pointless background character, as much as I wish that was my role, I hadn't been so lucky.

  I was justice... No, that's not completely accurate. I was wrath. My actions might bring about a form of justice, but my actions would not be just. Burning deep inside my soul was something that matched the comedic edginess of the world I had been thrust into. No matter what would happen along my journey, the final destination of the yellow line guiding me had been set by someone other than myself, it had been set the moment I was dragged into this world by someone other than this world's creator. Unless that god cut my path short, I would eventually arrive at his doorstep, and I would fulfil my role. No heroics, no glory, just murder.

  Be mindful of the murders.

  Maybe those words held another meaning. Context was everything. Was the note a warning? A hint? A call to destiny? A poorly thought out plot device by a worthless man-child of an eldritch being? I had no way of knowing. The paper in my inventory could be the key to solving this investigation, the key to solving the mysteries of everything, or it could be absolutely worthless.

  With the mayor's office looming in the distance, the next leg of the investigation was underway. My newfound determination carried with it a piece of the puzzle that I had been told to disregard. I agree that the ones who deemed it false or unreliable at best had every logical reason to make that assessment. When you hear hoofbeats, think horse not zebra. Occam's razor. I had used it repeatedly during investigations as an insurance adjuster... No matter how many times I try to make myself seem cool, then I have to remind myself I was an insurance adjuster... Anyway, the general understanding that the simplest solutions were most likely the correct ones. However, I wasn't playing an insurance adjuster, I was Sherlock Holmes in this scenario. And Holmes had his own theory regarding probability 'If you rule out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' If I was going to complete this investigation, I couldn't be grounded by Occam's razor, I needed to rely on the Holmesian fallacy.

  "Joan, I'm asking you to trust me. When we talk with the receptionist, will you give me your trust and not step in?" I broke the awkward walk, speaking loud enough to communicate with the woman walking by my side, likely not reaching the two new additions ahead of us.

  "What's this?" Joan looked at me, more than a little surprised, "This isn't like you. Normally you just do what you want impulsively, or you hole up in a pit of self pity. If I didn't know any better I'd think you had actual confidence."

  "You're not wrong, but it breaks my heart to hear you deduce me to something so embarrassing." I playfully shot back with a grin, "I wouldn't call what I have confidence. But I am prepared to make a pretty big bluff. If I'm right, we'll have the pieces we need. If I fail, this side of the investigation will put up walls and we'd be left without much to go on. That's why I'm asking for your trust. I know what I'm about to do is not just risky, but absolutely idiotic and nonsensical."

  A simple eyebrow raise, "The Clay I know is best defined as idiotic and nonsensical. If I'm still walking next to you after everything you've done, why do you think I'd expect anything less." It was almost as if she had been waiting for me to reach this conclusion. How much better did she know me than myself?

  "So I have your trust? Even if I use evidence that you personally threw out?"

  "What do you need from me?" Completely ignoring the doubt that she'd not support me, she looked to confirm her role in my gambit.

  "You have the best poker face I've ever seen. I'm going to need you to use it to convince that damned receptionist that anything I say is something we know with a certainty. No matter what insane things I say, as long as you don't act with surprise and just nod along, that'll be enough. If we crash and burn, then I'm going to make sure we go out big." At the very best, my suspicions have a ten percent chance of being correct. Then again, we're in a world specifically designed for eldritch beasts and cosmic horror, so real-world logic should at least take a back seat at times like this.

  "At least it will be entertaining when you fail."

  "If I fail, not when. Have some faith." I shot back, only afterwards realizing she was teasing me.

  "What's got you losers so worked up?" Raif spun on his heels. He tucked his hands behind his head with his elbows sticking out as wide as possible as he walked backwards. He one-upped my belief that he was nothing more than a caricature with every new action.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "We're going to need the two of you to keep watch outside. They don't know you, the mayor and anyone working for him. We need a set of eyes outside to see if anything suspicious happens while we ask the receptionist some questions." My words weren't a complete lie, it wouldn't hurt to have someone watching for weird stuff outside. But mostly I didn't want Raif derailing my plan. If he was in the room, it would be a guarantee that he would disarm our bluff as soon as possible so he could mock me. Even Tara's presence would be risky since I didn't know for certain if she had a poker face sufficient for the plan.

  "You think you can just order us ar..."

  "He's not asking. He's also the only reason you're not still locked up, so you might choose your words a little more carefully. I believe the words you were looking for is 'yes sir'." Joan snapped at Raif. Either through fear, respect, or something else, Raif responded accordingly.

  "Yeah, whatever. Don't gotta get your panties in a wad."

  It wasn't a yes sir, but at least Raif wasn't pushing back. Tara just stared blankly, doing everything she could to distance herself from the conflict. Joan moved to snap back, but I gently tugged the side of her dress. I appreciated her support, but I didn't want to create pointless fights. We already knew Raif was a complete asshole, so trying to fight him over every single immature attack would only play in his favor.

  We stopped at the steps leading up to the mayor's office building.

  "It shouldn't be long. Thanks for keeping a lookout. Just look for anything out of the ordinary."

  Almost as if on cue an emo Sonic the Hedgehog walked past. Not Shadow, I know that he's kinda like the edgy Sonic, but no, this was the blue guy. He was so emo, I could see him prepping for a Fallout Boy concert. It was times like this I was reminded just how stupid this entire world was. If only to add icing to the cake of gloomy unadulterated edginess, the crows flying overhead continued to overwhelm the sky with their numbers, looking more like clouds or even swarms than actual groups of the birds.

  I continued, "Not stuff like that. I mean like people creeping around and stuff. Or anyone interacting with the building while we're inside."

  The fact that Tara didn't seem fazed by any of this made my heart ache.

  Seeing Tara's lack of response, I lost all of the wind in my sails to continue the conversation outside of the office. I had more I could say, but I no longer cared as long as they stayed outside. Actually, that was not true. I no longer cared as long as I didn't have to see someone acting like Tara. It was selfish, and I didn't care. Right now I didn't need any more distractions.

  I nodded to Joan and we entered the mayor's office for the third time in two days.

  The lobby of the mayor's office hadn't changed at all since the day before. That included the surly middle-aged receptionist. I knew I should probably get her name instead of just referring to her as the receptionist, but that took more energy than she deserved. She'd done nothing but try to block us. Besides, I'd already given her the best name Zuul, so finding a replacement name would kill my fun Ghostbusters reference. Are you trying to ruin my fun? I have so little joy in this world, why would you do that to me?!

  So Zuul just looked up at me as if I were a fly that had somehow managed to get inside. The last time I'd seen her, she had a red highlight, and this time was no different. At least it meant she recognized us.

  "What do you want? Can't you see we're busy?" Zuul spit her normal poison. A quick glance would let anyone know that she was the opposite of busy.

  "Aww, come on Zuul, don't be like that. I promised I'd keep you company this morning. Are you saying you aren't ready for our date?" My plan required getting under her skin, luckily that was a natural talent that I'd carried from the real world. Nobody was more annoying than me, especially if I tried. The realization of what I just admitted about myself caused a little part of the scarce pride I still had left to die.

  "Who the Hell is Z..."

  "Look, I know you want me here even less than my partner wants me to keep making Ghostbusters references. So let's just get down to business." For someone with so little self confidence, I'll admit I could make a cocky smirk as good as the best of them. At least I assumed, I never really looked in the mirror to confirm.

  "What is a Ghostbusters?"

  "That's a stupid question, and a tangent that I don't have time for right now. Everyone's seen Ghostbusters, so I'd appreciate you stop lying to me."

  Zuul looked genuinely confused. Maybe she hadn't seen Ghostbusters. If that was the case, the first thing I did after liberating this world from the clutches of that god would be to get everyone VCRs and a stack of classic VHS tapes.

  "Look, Zuul. Can I call you Zuul?"

  "No."

  "So Zuul, I've got a few questions, then you can go back to being a background NPC, ok?"

  "I don't even know what some of those words mean."

  "Zuul, I'm just going to cut to the chase. I'm just going to ask a single question, and if you answer honestly, then I'll get out of your hair."

  The quick back and forth had Zuul disoriented to say the least.

  "Stop calling me Z..."

  "Who's job is it to clean up the piles of skin each night? Is that you? The mayor? Or do you pay others to do it?"

  The bluff had been played.

  Too much time passed after my question. Zuul had grown much too stiff. The sweat on Zuul's brow told me too much. She didn't even need to respond. I had gone all-in on a hunch, and it had paid off.

  "I don't know what you're talking about. You're absolutely insane."

  "Tell me something I don't know. My sanity aside, answer the question."

  Zuul turned from me, seeming to plead to Joan for assistance. Joan simply shook her head, her poker face doing its job.

  "I don't know! I swear to Gods! I'm here all night! They don't tell me anything!"

  "They?" I raise an eyebrow. Suddenly, I was reminded of something she had said when we first came in. She had said we when referring to being busy. While they could also refer to a singular individual her use of we when we first arrived spoke volumes. Since the mayor wasn't here yet, it was highly likely she was talking about other parties involved.

  "If you don't know that much, then I'm not going to say anything more."

  I hadn't planned on this, I had already played my bluff. Anything more would be a complete guess with nothing more to go on. I've come this far, it might be reckless, but...

  "I know about the Deep Ones. Why is Mayor Night working with them?"

  Even Joan's eyes waivered slightly. Had I gone too far? Had I revealed that I was going on nothing more than guesses?

  "I swear, I don't know. I just work at the desk. You'll have to ask him. I was against it, but I'm a nobody." There was nothing but cornered fear reflecting in her eyes.

  "If I find out you tipped him off that I know what's going on, I'll make sure Sheriff Placeholder treats you as an accomplice. I don't need to tell you how serious that is, right?"

  Zuul responded with a terrified nod.

  Turning on my heels, I quickly exited the office. I had more questions to ask, but my body was shaking so badly from shock that I could no longer stay in character. As the door closed behind Joan, I met her eyes. She looked as shocked as I did.

  "I can't believe that worked." I shook with exasperation, I felt like a 90s kid who just opened up a Nintendo 64 for Christmas.

  "But what does it mean?"

  "Honestly, I have no clue. There's a big piece still missing. I doubt Mayor Night will come clean, so we have some more digging to do before we confront him." Her question had brought me back to reality. I summoned my journal opening to a new page.

  What We Know:

  1) Townspeople disappearing.

  2) Always occurs at night.

  3) Piles of skin found at sites of disappearances

  4) Mayor Night is involved

  5) Mayor Night working with Deep Ones

  What We Need to Find Out:

  1) What is their goal?

  2) The truth behind the piles of skin?

  3) What exactly is happening?

  4) Proof.

  Looking down at my notes, I desperately try to find our next step. We had until nightfall to get some answers.

  "What took you losers so long? Do you have any idea how boring it was out here?"

  I was instantly reminded about our two sets of eyes on the outside. From the sound of it, they hadn't discovered anything, but it still wouldn't hurt to ask.

  "We found out quite a lot. We're one step away from solving everything. What did you guys see out here, anything strange?"

  "Nothing, unless you count weird looking townies, or a shit ton of crows. Flocks and flocks of crows." Raif responded with annoyance. He possibly realized his task was little more than keeping him distracted while the adults got stuff done.

  "Umm, actually..." A quiet voice came from the other member of our lookout crew. Since I met her, Tara had said only a handful of words, so her speaking up now shocked me. "They're not called flocks."

  "Seriously? What's your problem? If you're going to say something, say something that isn't completely pointless. Are you seriously going to correct my grammar?" Raif snapped at Tara.

  "But they're not... A group of crows is called a..."

  "Nobody wants to hear your bullshit. You always try to act so smart. Just because you went to college you act like you're better than everyone. You went for music. You're a joke!" The argument was getting heated.

  "Just let her finish. I want to hear what she has to say." I cut in, realizing I'm only asking for trouble.

  "Of course you would. You've been eye fucking her since you met."

  "I always love to hear what groups of different animals are called. What is a group of crows called?" I cut in, ignoring Raif. I didn't honestly care what a group of crows was called, but I wanted to give Tara positive reinforcement for speaking at all. When dealing with my deep seated anxieties, positive reinforcement was one of the only things that motivated me to keep trying.

  "A murder..."

  "Bitch, what the hell is wrong with you?! Are you insane?" Raif charged at Tara as she dropped to her knees, curling into a ball.

  I'd like to say I stepped in and protected her.

  I didn't. Joan did. She's the hero of this story.

  I was too busy with something else.

  "A murder of crows..." I muttered to myself as Joan acted as any empathetic heroic person should.

  Be mindful of the murders.

  "Tara, you're a genius!"

  Even Raif stopped in his tracks. Joan and Raif were about to come to blows as Tara curled up on the ground. All of their eyes turned to me. Possibly because my outburst was so tone deaf that it was painful to even people who lacked social cue awareness. But the sincere excitement in my voice had to have raised at least a little intrigue for them. Why was Tara a genius? Because she knows bird trivia?

  "Be mindful of the murders. Joan, it wasn't referring to killings. It's the crows! Follow the crows!"

  Joan's eyes opened wide. Raif relaxed slightly, as if he is relieved by my revelation. Tara looked confused, but she also smiled, she felt appreciated.

  "The beach!" Joan completed my thought. "It was talking about following the crows to the beach!"

  It might have helped if I'd explained the note even briefly to our two new party members. Looking back, I'm sure we probably seemed off our rockers. But between Joan and I, Tara had given us our lead. Even if done through an accidental Um actually moment, we were no longer at a dead end.

  "Grab your swim suits, we're about to have our beach episode."

  In a reference that really would only land for anime fans, my battle cry further confused the three people I had intended to rev up.

  "I see you're back to your old self. I'd just gotten my hopes up, too." Joan groaned, with only slight playfulness.