Poison City

 

A flying deformed infant, whose body was not human-like flesh and bones but an abomination of human arms, hands and legs, with eyes and ears placed in the gaps and crevices; it had four long arms, each was made from three sections of individual human arms chained together, and the two arms on each side were holding a long, slightly curved hollow needle, seemingly made from some kind of long bones. These were the descriptions given by Sitch about the “evil spirit” that tried to kill him while he was in the interrogation room.

 

Though Marcus found himself having a hard time taking Sitch by his word - there was not much he could do to actually refute it either. Just like he said, there were indeed terrible things happening, and there was no one in the interrogation room that could have attacked him, in that particular way no less. The cries and curses he heard when he entered the room could not have come from anyone in the precinct, which made the explanation involving a murderous evil spirit much more plausible.

 

After a short moment of reflection, Marcus found that though he had not been too dismissive of the theories of the existence of supernatural evil and vengeful spirits and other unclean presences, he might be slightly evasive of the possibilities that they might be more involved in the horrible incidents as well. And the reason for this evasiveness, he reckoned, was because he actually had never seen anything paranormal. He had heard them, twice - but those signs were way too vague, and they were both heard under the relatively chaotic circumstances.

 

The bus was almost at their stop, so Marcus had to clear his thoughts from his head for now. The day was already quite late, as the moon had shown its face high up in the sky, the stars were gradually revealing themselves and the last bit of sunlight was dwindling at the horizon. This bus stop was the third or second to last stop of its route, and they were already the last of the passengers. The bus sped away the moment they set foot on the ground.

 

The docks were just one block away from the stop, Marcus could already see the masts of some of the small ships and boats floating up and down from the wave of the Mud River.

 

The locals called it the Mud River because the water in the river almost always seemed muddy and even downright oily and dark in some areas, due to the pollution from waste water and other garbage. The river itself was not that wide, nor was it very deep to allow any bigger freights. There were two categories of ships that could transport cargo on the Mud River - the smaller ones were supervised by the local community collective, and the bigger ones were managed by the city, while the local community collective had certain auditing rights over them. The managerial mess provided plenty of room for illicit dealings, but it was only till today did Marcus hear about the kidnapping and trafficking of children.

 

“There’s still time.” Sitch said to Marcus after checking the time from a wall clock by the street: “They usually meet at around 10, sometimes even at midnight. Can we get something to eat?”

 

“Fine.” Marcus sighed and grunted.

 

Both of them had a silent late dinner. Sitch was constantly looking over his shoulders and out the window, and he almost jolted out of his seat twice when the waiter approached him with footsteps that were too quiet. Marcus, on the other hand, became more and more occupied with his thought of the paranormal. Master Liaoran did tell him that Ferocious Tiger Style, the secret of pride he kept mostly to himself, would infuse him with the power and aura to deter most of the paranormal entities, which could and should be the sole reason that he had never seen anything supernatural before.

 

Thinking of this, Marcus reached into one of his inner pockets on his jacket, where he kept the talismans gifted to him by Master Liaoran, to protect him from “the dark clouds over his head and shoulders”, and made sure that the pouch was still there. He considered for a brief moment whether he should give one to Sitch. And after half a cup of cheap, bitter and burnt coffee, the decision was that it would be better for everyone if this perp would be safe, or safer, from whatever invisible and corporeal threats out there.

 

“Thank you detective - ” Sitch seemed to be genuinely grateful albeit surprised when he received the folded paper talisman: “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

 

“Belief or disbelief, doesn’t matter.” Marcus shook his head and finished the last of his coffee, leaving the unfiltered grind in the mug: “You’d better take me there and don’t try anything funny. Then during your sentencing I can draft up something that could help with the DA and the jury.”

 

“Eh.” Sitch shrugged with a wry smile: “That is, if I’m still alive then.”

 

“Just be careful and don’t do anything stupid, you’ll be fine.”

 

“Hope that’s true.”

 

When time hit 10PM on the dot, both of them left the diner and headed for the docks. Tonight it was a full moon, yet for some reason coated with a faint orange-red color. There were only a few people on the streets, most of which seemed like they were just heading home anyway, others seemed like they just came out, carrying large bags and baskets with them. Probably night market vendors, Marcus thought to himself, as he could smell half-cooked buns and marinated meat from some of the bags and baskets.

 

They headed to a platform behind a few warehouse buildings on the side of the docks overseeing a dark part below with some smaller, dirtier and more run-down looking warehouses. The overall placements of the warehouses seemed mostly unplanned, making the space and pathways for cargo transport winding and forking in almost every few steps’ distance. There was very limited lighting in the area, which made the area look even sketchier.

 

There was no one in the area yet, but Marcus still kept his breathing light and slow, while activating the stealth techniques he learned from Master Liaoran. Sitch was hiding behind a pile of old wooden boxes and carts, and he was checking out the area and Marcus at the same time.

 

“I can’t see clearly from here.” Marcus shook his head after waiting for a while: “We need to move in closer.”

 

“No! No! This is the perfect spot!” Sitch immediately waved his hands: “You can see multiple roads from her and you can actually see people coming, if you go in closer they can easily see and ambush you!”

 

“Yeah, I can’t see shit here. Are you sure they are gonna gather here?” Marcus asked.

 

“Yes! I’m sure! What - ” Sitch had no problem showing that he was frustrated, anxious and under tremendous stress: “Just a little patience! They always send scouts to check the place before meeting, if you are spotted then we’re all doomed!”

 

“I’ll give it another five minutes, if no one shows up, or if they show up and I can’t ID them, I’ll move in.” Marcus sighed.

 

Just this moment, a thin, metal projectile shot down at Marcus from the top of the building behind him. He sensed it almost right away, and stepped to the side. Three more of these projectiles followed his movement, two were evaded, and one was caught by him with his right hand.

 

It was a crude make-shift bronze bolt with a sharpened tip and two slightly asymmetrical blades. There were thin paper fletches on the tail, and the shaft had quite a few spots of rust. 

 

“Hide!” Marcus shouted at Sitch, who seemed still oblivious to the situation because he was paying attention to the area they were watching.

 

Sitch’s body jolted backwards, then he tumbled to the direction opposite from where the bolts came and tried to get away. But two men dressed in dark clothes emerged from a corner and shadows and unleashed two kicks on his chest and stomach. The next moment, Sitch fell on the ground, writhing in pain.

 

“Stop right there! ” Marcus pulled his gun and badge on the two men to prevent them from beating on Sitch anymore: “Police! Stop right there and hands above your head!”

 

Before either of the men could answer, a short spear connected to a chain shot from the side aiming right at Marcus’ arms. Marcus had to raise his arms to avoid being maimed, and following the chained short spear, a man with a snake head tattoo on his left face lunged at Marcus holding a gruesome looking hand scythe with a sharp spike on the back of the blade. The hand scythe was also connected to the chain. His charge was fast and brutal, even faced with a police officer who had a gun.

 

Qi, Marcus sensed Qi from this man, thus he immediately activated his as well. The man pulled the chain to retrieve the short spear, and at the same time swung the hand scythe at Marcus as he was trying to repoint the gun.

 

“Clunk!” Marcus’ left palm collided with the metal handle of the hand scythe, stopping the blade and preventing it from cutting into his left arm. The short spear whipped in the air and struck at Marcus’ right elbow. This time, a slashing wound appeared on the back of Marcus’ right forearm, and his gun was knocked off his hand and fell onto the ground, with a scratch mark left on its hammer and barrel.

 

The man with a snake head tattoo on his face frowned - as that slash should have created a bigger wound, one that would expose deep muscles and even the bones, instead of the one now that was seeping blood like it was barely skin deep.

 

“Boom!” While the man hesitated, Marcus’ left palm struck him on his chest - something made of metal on his opponent’s chest caved in and cracked, and he flew back tumbling on the road, with his eyes bulging, tongue dangling, and blood spewing out from his mouth and nostrils.