Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s no case that Amelia Watson can’t solve. After all, she’s the most famous detective around. The police seek her help, and investigators beg for it. She loves it. It’s not that people are stupid, it’s just that she has the ability to, well, see things from different perspectives. And her brain is so wrinkly too.

Just right now, if you take a peek into her office, you won’t see a single unsolved case. That’s unfortunately because Amelia Watson has not taken on any cases recently. Unfortunately, her services do not come cheap, and the police department, her regular client, is trying to cut their “Watson Budget”.

“It’s boring. It really is.” The blonde detective spins around in her chair, the world stretching into a messy blur as she speeds up. It’s been too peaceful recently, that she has to derive entertainment from pitting inertia against the fluid in her ears. She even had her chair altered so that it’s sturdier, it’s more comfortable, and most importantly, it spins by itself. What a simple joy.

“Ah,” she says, as the armrest, fed up with constant abuse, breaks apart. Amelia Watson is shot off her chair, and she tucks her head into her arms. Smart choice, really. She slams into her couch, not before giving herself a nasty rug burn on her right arm and leg. Oh fuck, it’s bleeding, it’s bleeding.

The door flies open. Amelia scrambles to appear presentable, smoothing out any wrinkles in her shirt.

“Detective, we need your help!” A short haired woman barrels into her office, confused when she sees the empty desk. She jumps when Amelia speaks.

“Oh, hello. What is it?” Amelia asks, pretending her body isn’t screaming for aid.

“There’s been a few cases of–OH MY GOD! Detective, did you get into a fight?!” The policewoman yells, and Amelia laughs it off.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I won. I broke his arm, heheh.” She puffs her chest up, and the policewoman is too full of admiration to doubt her story. It’s Amelia Watson after all!

“As expected of you, detective. Well, here.” A stack of files is handed to Amelia, who takes them and winces as her arm smacks into the door frame.

“Big trouble at the police station?”

“Worse.” The policewoman sighs. “It’s much worse than that.”

“Self-immolation or spontaneous combustion?” Amelia wonders out loud, this time sitting on the couch and not the traitorous chair. Her wounds have been cleaned and wrapped neatly, thanks to the policewoman from the Oozora Police. “And they’re all located near pubs. I doubt this is self-immolation, unless it’s a protest against alcohol. Look at their profiles. Smokers, or people fond of picking fights, according to witnesses.”

“Are you saying that these victims were so in… in-“

“Inebriated.”

“Yes, inebriated. They were so inebriated that even a single flame from a lighter could set them on fire?”

“Your words, not mine.” Amelia frowns as she thumbs through more reports. There had to be at least 15 of these occurring over a month. Could it be an organised crime, perhaps scheduled turf tussles? A few reports caught her eye, and she cursed under her breath.

“But detective, the cases from the middle of the month… they’re not drinkers or smokers.”

“Very observant. Now the only thing linking all these cases is that they all happen really late. Or early, depending on how you see it.” She could imagine it already.

The pubs would be cleaning up, their doors closed and locked. Then a scream would be heard, and who would be the only people around?

The drunkards passed out at the corner of the building, starting to stir awake. The staff themselves, hoping that it’s a minor nuisance. Those returning from a night shift, just desperately wanting to collapse into their beds.

They would see light before sunrise.

And they would panic. How else would one react to a walking fireball?

“We’ve actually received footage of three of the victims – the rest of the incidents happened out of the surveillance cameras’ views.”

“Thank you, officer. Shall we?”

Usually, any footage can be damning, so long it was proved that the footage has never been tampered with. So, Amelia Watson keeps a close eye on everything happening on screen.

A man in a silver suit staggers out of the bar, clapping his hands and laughing. His companion trips after him and lands on the floor. The man laughs even harder, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette, and waves his companion over, the glint of his many rings flashing into the camera as he does. His companion, a younger man in a cheap suit, fumbles around and pulls out a lighter. A flicker, and suddenly the first man is on fire, stumbling around, his mouth open in a silent scream. The younger man drops the lighter, and falls backwards, scrambling desperately to get away from the flames. He pisses himself in the process.

“Play it back, right before Silver Suit catches on fire.”

The policewoman does so. The playback confirms Amelia’s suspicions.

It’s a split second, but Amelia Watson catches it. An orange flame bursting into life before the lackey’s thumb even manages to touch the sparkwheel. She grits her teeth, and watches the other two videos with such an intensity that the policewoman is afraid Amelia herself will suddenly combust.

Oh, and Amelia feels like she will.

She stands up, her blood pounding, and her cheeks flushing. Ah, this is it. The thrill of a case. Or is it anger from such an unexplainable case?

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Amelia Watson is back in business.”

“Yes! Wait, detective, what do you mean by ‘back’?”

“Will you be accompanying me, officer?” The idea of having backup is both comforting and annoying. The officer isn’t inefficient, by any means, but Amelia’s methods aren’t exactly what one would expect from a law-abiding citizen. Okay, it’s crime. Amelia Watson resorts to committing crimes to solve crimes. Going by the book can only solve that many problems. And if the officer finds out that Amelia’s choice of weapon other than a gun is her own special concoction… then Amelia would have to get rid of any witnesses. Haha, just kidding! But really.

“I’m afraid I can’t, there are more strange cases popping up around town.” The short haired officer groans. “Ah, we will definitely call upon you if we need assistance.”

“I hope you will,” Amelia mumbles, thinking back to the morning. If there are no more cases, and the agency closes down, perhaps she can consider joining the circus.

“That… sounds ominous.” The officer shakes her head. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Oh, not at all, officer. It’s just that… these are some hard times. Hard times indeed.”

Chapter Text

There’s only so many pubs in town that haven’t been involved in what Amelia calls “the burning men incidents”. Amelia finds the most isolated pub that is hidden away from government cameras. It’s not a bad place, pretty cosy, good music, and seems to have decent drinks. It’s a pity Amelia has decided to get her clothes dirty by conducting a stakeout in the middle of some bushes. It’s not that bad, she tells herself as she adjusts her position. She steps in dog shit.

“I’m getting a drink if no one catches fire today.”

And maybe she will. Despite the pub’s ambience and variety of drinks, it’s less than half-full. It seems that word has gotten around. And not everyone wants to be the next human torch. She recalls the group of five youths who had been walking in front of her, and the conversation she had eavesdropped on.

“I heard it was a gang fight. You know how they are nowadays, with the police focused on all the weird happenings going on. When the cat’s away, the mice come out to play.”

“Did you hear about that one bigshot? Heard his own henchman set him on fire. Dude’s been arrested.”

“So it’s inter-fighting as well? That’s nasty.”

“But there were some victims who weren’t that shady. Maybe it’s some supernatural shit.”

“Like what, will-o-wisps? Your pet salamander has escaped and is magically breathing fire?”

“Haha, you’ve been playing too many games. Touch some grass.”

“No, yeah, willow whips! Those round fireballs, right? I’ve seen them in Pokemon.”

“Will-o-wisps, dumbass. Anyway you better keep your voice down, you don’t know which gang could be lurking around, and you’ll be the next one!”

Maybe it was a will-o-wisp, and it startled the lackey so much that he accidentally set his boss on fire.

Yeah right. Amelia Watson knows what she saw. But it never hurts to try. She’ll capture it and solve the case. Somehow. But for now, she waits, her left shoe smothered in shit.

The customers trickle out, and Amelia Watson scans the vicinity again. There are only a few rats running up and down the street, but there is not a single person approaching the pub. The group of five leave, and when they’re way out of sight, Amelia is relieved that those blabbermouths won’t die tonight. The last three guests stumble out, and Amelia readies herself when the staff locks the door.

Her instincts are spot on.

The first man, dressed in a turtleneck and pants that look too tight to be comfortable, pulls out a cigarette. His friend, a guy whose fashion inspiration was probably Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, backs away and mutters something. Even in his drunken state, he seems to recognise a dangerous situation.

The third guy though, must have shades so dark they block out everything. Upon his friend’s request, he pulls out a lighter. Oh, it’s a Zippo. He’s clearly sloshed, as the Zippo falls out of his hands, slipping in between his fingers as he tries to catch it, and drops on the floor.

“Oi, you little fucker!” Turtleneck yells, and bends down to grab the lighter.

It’s now or never. Amelia Watson is going to catch fire.

How does one catch a flame? Does one sneak up and clap it between their hands? Perhaps trap it in a jar? Does one equip themselves with fireproof gear? Maybe. But not Amelia Watson. She has a pair of gloves, her usual weapons, and that’s about it.

But just in case.

She takes a swig of her special concoction, and feels the world around her creep to a crawl. Her head will pound and her eyes will be watering for the next few days but it’s worth it.

She bursts out of the bushes, and she sees it. This time, it’s incredibly obvious. The Zippo remains closed, but a spark appears out of nowhere, and even with Amelia’s speed, she can’t reach Turtleneck in time.

“Watch out!” She yells, as Turtleneck turns towards her in slow-motion, the cigarette falling out of his mouth. Then it’s hot, so incredibly hot that Amelia pulls back as flames curl around the man, biting into his clothes, his hair, and then his face.

He howls, and with time slowing around Amelia, it sounds even more dragged out and pained. His friends start to move, not towards him, but away. It can’t be helped. There’s no way they can save their friend.

Having worked with the dead, or those on the precipice of death, Amelia is familiar with the signs of survivability. And this man? He’s as good as dead. There’s no extinguisher in sight, and no ambulance will reach in time. One of his friends hammers at the door, screaming in vain, while Shades just falls to the floor, so shocked that he passes out.

No, wait, there’s something else. There’s another person, and Amelia can feel their gaze on her. It sends shivers down her spine, and she whirls around, her hand darting towards her holster. Where, where are they?

She swears when she sees movement near her initial hiding spot – how had she been so careless? And she abandons Turtleneck, who is still screaming in agony, to chase the mystery person. She jumps past the dog shit, ignoring the snap of branches, ignoring how the broken stems scratch her. She winces as she hears fabric ripping, and feels her bandages grow damp again.

She limps after the figure, her heart thumping, her legs pumping, and she lets out a frustrated shout. The figure doesn’t flinch, and even cheekily waves back at her. The audacity! Amelia growls, and feels the effects of her concoction wearing off. But that’s fine, they’ll soon be out of the darkness and into a street with enough lights. She pushes on, taking one large leap out of the unkempt greenery, and lands on concrete.

Which way? Left? Right? There! A spot of orange winks at her from an alley, and Amelia curses, feeling the aftereffects. She crumples to the ground, almost hyperventilating, and throws up. Thank god there are no surveillance cameras in the area.

She staggers to her feet, and takes the proper way back to the pub, not without informing Officer Oozora first.

When she’s back at the scene, she finds Turtleneck, a black corpse on the floor, and Shaggy, frozen in shock. Some of the pub staff offer him water, but he’s unresponsive.

“What happened?” Amelia asks him, and he stares up, unblinking. His eyes are glazed over, as though he isn’t fully there. But he speaks.

“I saw it. Vin killed Gabriel. He set him on fire, then ran away.”

Amelia would have corrected him, but there’s something terribly off. He’s eerily calm, even though he was pissing himself minutes ago.

“Miss, do you need help?” The staff asks her. Oh right, she’s probably a sight to behold now. Teary-eyed, bleeding, and her clothes are tattered. And her left shoe still reeks of dog shit. She shakes her head as red and blue lights flood the street.  

“My ride’s here.”

Chapter Text

“Vin Petro. 28. Reported missing ever since April 7th. The last he was seen was outside The Shade, around 4am. According to the sole witness, he had set the deceased on fire, and escaped the scene.”

“Officer, is that your conclusion?” Amelia says, holding her head in her hand. Why did she even take the concoction? Foolish, Watson, simply foolish.

“Are you asking me as a detective?”

“I’m asking you as a friend, Subaru.”

“That he had committed the crime and ran away? Yes. But I don’t think he burnt everyone else.”

“Indeed. Hopefully we see an end to this, now that a culprit has been identified.” Amelia’s words sting, and she feels her pride as a detective crumble.

“You leave catching Vin Petro to us,” Subaru says, and pauses, watching Amelia.

“Please tell me it’s good news.” Amelia leans back on her couch. She closes her eyes and sees a spark of orange and a silhouette waving at her. It forces her to open her eyes, as unbearable as it is.

“Well, that depends. You did say you were short of cases, and we might have a few unsolved mysteries. We received more funds too.”

Amelia weighs her options. She probably won’t survive the circus. “Alright, what’s the situation?”

“Hey, how do they identify the burnt bodies?”

“That’s a sick question! I don’t want to know, and let’s be thankful someone was caught.”

“He wasn’t caught, he was identified.”

“Alright, fine, but how do they identify the victims?”

Amelia Watson walks past several teenagers discussing her latest failure. There’s really no escaping this subject. And despite all the strange happenings in town, everyone is choosing to focus on a single person being tagged as the culprit of a single incident.

Perhaps that’s how people are - they distract themselves from all the negative occurrences going on, and are just so quick to pin all their frustrations and fear on a single scapegoat.

While Amelia (and the good citizens) had been paying attention to the burning men incidents, there were 3 cases of missing bodies from the morgue. Apparently, one of the helpers had been selling dead bodies in the black market. They were fired and everything was kept under wraps. Amelia is actually very impressed with how the Oozora Police handled this. Unfortunately, corpse smuggling was a small, manageable case as compared to the other cases Subaru had brought to Amelia’s desk.

In fact, Amelia had started to choke on her tea when Officer Oozora reached the other reports.

Apparently some offshore poachers had been pissing off the marine life, and just like the movie Jaws, there was a very angry shark on the loose. From what it sounded like, multiple sharks. There was really no way to track the creatures, but they were daring enough to approach shallow waters and drag people into the seas. The beach had been closed for a month because of that, and not a “nasty jellyfish invasion” like the news had reported.

And then there were the cases that border the supernatural.

The most recent one - a week after the beach’s reopening, witnesses had reported childlike singing from the beach late at night, on days where the clouds shroud the moon. A young couple had gone looking for the child, but never returned. Officer Oozora had offered this case, and Amelia politely declined. That seemed like more trouble. But maybe, just maybe she will take it on after her injuries heal.

The next one was right up Amelia’s alley. She had always been “an absolute fucking weirdo”, as some of the Oozora Police force said. But this -  this really gave her tingles. There was no way she could solve this without some help.

A trail of blood, leading to a man who had passed out in an alleyway. He was alive, but his right arm and left foot were missing. The doctors described it as a very clean cut, one that might have been done by a black market dealer. Well, this black market dealer was clearly an appreciator of the arts. The victim’s right arm had been covered in a full sleeve tattoo, a mermaid stretched across his skin, and he had a small anchor on his left ankle, right below where it was severed.

The three aspects of this case that intrigue Amelia are:

One, the surveillance cameras in the area captured the man going into the alley, which was a dead end, and no one else.

Two, the victim’s statement was “I saw nothing, complete darkness, like I was blinded. The next thing I know I’m in this FUCKING STATE!”

Three, the victim didn’t bleed out. His wounds had been cauterised.

Amelia was already planning - the traps she could set, the places she could cover, but no, Officer Oozora had asked her to take some time to recover. Why would she even dangle those cases in front of Amelia if she had no intention to hand them over yet?

Why, because she had a more pressing case.

“I’ve set you up for a date.”

Which is why Amelia Watson, finally free from her injuries, is walking towards a restaurant. She spots the signage, a familiar oval, a green bottom with red font.

Saizeriya.

What? It’s a restaurant! A family restaurant! And it’s one of her favourite restaurants!

Yeah, right. Amelia’s just broke.

The payment from the Oozora Police Department isn’t set to come in anytime soon, and she just purchased a sturdier chair. This time, she can adjust its rotation speed. What a steal.

She steps in, and finds her date easily. They’re just like how Officer Oozora had described, quiet, elegant, and very cute. Their attention is completely captured by the tablet in front of them. Amelia considers sliding into the seat boisterously, but settles for a regular greeting. Subaru would probably grill her about the date if any details were leaked.

“Hello,” she starts, grinning when she sees her date jump, her hair bouncing as she does. “I’m Amelia Watson.” Now, she slides into the booth seat, her eyes fixing on the woman opposite her.

“Ah, you’re … Nene’s friend’s friend’s friend.”

“Yes. You’re Subaru’s friend’s friend’s friend,” Amelia echoes, and an eyebrow quirks, possibly in displeasure. “And how should I address you…?”

“Ninomae. Ninomae Ina’nis.”

“If you didn’t say anything, I would have to call you ‘beautiful’ for this entire date.” Ina’s cheeks turn pink. “Well, if someone put you up to this, they either have a hold on you, or you’re a shut in, and they’re trying to get you to socialise.”

“Is this how dates usually go?” Ina frowns.

“Oh no,” Amelia leans back. “I don’t mean to offend. It’s an occupational hazard.” Ina blinks. “I’m a detective.”

“Well, you’re spot on. I assume it is the same for you?” Ina’nis asks, and Amelia lets out an embarrassed laugh.

“I see we are the same. Very observant of you, detective Ninomae. Would you consider joining my agency?”

“I’m afraid my work keeps me busy as it is. And please, call me Ina.”

Amelia’s smile widens. “Well, Ina, I have to admit, this is a delightful reprieve from work.”

“Your presence is rather refreshing. And… so is the venue.”

“Hey, Saizeriya has a good variety of affordable food. Might I suggest the squid ink pasta?”

Ina laughs, and Amelia quite likes the sound of that.

“Detective Watson, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you research your dates’ preferences.”

“Maybe I do. And please, call me Amelia. I’m off work today.”

Light banter with Ina is fun, and Amelia relishes every pun the quieter girl surprises her with. She’s thoroughly enjoying her time, thankful that Subaru actually pushed her for this date. She’s about to order dessert when her phone rings.

It’s a series of duck quacks, and that sets Ina into a series of giggles.

“Uh, sorry, I need to get this.” Amelia excuses herself, and steps out of the restaurant.

“We found Vin Petro.” Subaru is breathless on the other side of the phone, and Amelia can make out someone heaving in the background, followed by something wet hitting the floor.

“Where is he?” Amelia asks, her heart racing again. “I’m on my way.”

“Detective, he’s dead. Part of his body was found in a washed-up shark carcass. Records showed a boat rented under his name on April 7th, 6am, but it never returned.”

Amelia isn’t sure what to feel - relief? Shame? Horror?

“So what’s with the urgency?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but his left arm is missing. Sliced completely clean. Too clean to be a shark bite.”

Oh no.

“Did Vin have a tattoo on his left arm?” Amelia couldn’t verify it - damn turtleneck sweater covered up his upper body!

“Yes. And we have two more victims.”

“In a single week? I’ll meet you soon.” Amelia runs back into the restaurant, furious that her date is cut short.

“I’m sorry, I – work,” she sputters out, and offers to pay the bill.

“It’s alright, I’ll get it this time. Be safe out there.”

Amelia nods and runs off, Ina’s blessing ringing in her ears.

Chapter Text

What was left of Vin Petro was a semi-decomposing corpse. Even with his flesh stripped, he’s a nasty sight - his bones have been shattered, and his spine has been snapped above his pelvis. A messy split, unlike his left arm. Almost a mirror of the first victim, flesh and bone have been separated cleanly, no feat any marine creature could have pulled off.  Whatever flesh and meat had been spared has already been nibbled on and left as ribboned shreds.

The dead can no longer speak, but they leave enough evidence, preserving memories and experiences with the help of technology. And Vin Petro’s accounts are all public. A treasure trove of information.

Vin Petro was someone who loved posting half naked selfies too. Scrolling through his social media, Amelia can piece together the tattoo from the different angles of Vin’s photos. It was a kraken rising from the sea, with a hallowed effect behind it. Not quite Cthulhu-esque, with the heart shapes that lined the other side of his arm like a chain to a kraken pendant. Maybe Vin was a squid lover. In more ways than one.

“What about the other victims? Any details of their tattoos?” Amelia asks, and Officer Oozora hands her some photos.

“They happened to get theirs from the same tattoo artist.”

“Huh. This artist must have a great love of the ocean.” One of them had The Great Wave across his thigh, a goldfish swimming up his other leg, and a tiny octopus on his index finger. The other had a mermaid on his left upper arm, a jellyfish swimming beside it, and the kicker - Cthulhu on his back.

“Is this guy even alive?” Amelia asks, poking at Cthulhu.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Let me guess. His skin was sliced off.”

“H-how did you know?”

Amelia shrugs. “There are many books depicting this. We could be dealing with someone who collects tattoos, along with their canvases.”

“Detective, sometimes I wonder what kind of books you read…”

“Hey, Skin by Roald Dahl is a classic tale!”

“Roald Dahl? The one who wrote the story about the giant peach and the chocolate factory?”

“Same guy.”

Officer Oozora looks disgusted, but retains her professionalism.

“Detective Watson, you’ll find that the M.O. of all the cases are the same. Testimonies are all the same, and once again, there was no evidence of someone else being at the scene with them. We suspected someone jumping down from a higher place, but this time… there’s no ledge, just a wall that stretches 7 floors.”

“No wires?” Amelia asks, and Officer Oozora shakes her head.

“No signs of any traps, just blood stains and burn marks.”

“Well, that’s not promising.”

“Also, we’ve taken a girl into custody.”

“What do you mean you’ve taken a girl into custody?!”

“Heya dee-teck-teeve Watson.” A girl waves from behind Officer Oozora, and Amelia is so shocked she falls backwards onto soft sand.

“Gura, you have to stay with the others!” Officer Oozora chides, but Gura shakes her head.

“They’re gross. That lady threw up near me! Yucky!”

“Alright, stay near me then. Detective, meet Gura. We found her near the shark carcass.”

“Body,” Gura corrects, and Officer Oozora plays along.

“Near the shark's body. She was in shock, and almost attacked one of our officers. We can’t find any records of her.”

Amelia frowns, trying to catch the officer’s gaze, telepathically telling her “A girl? At the beach? Alone? Does this really not sound familiar?” Maybe the report from 2 days ago?

Nope. Officer Oozora is distracted by Gura, who’s drawing in the sand. It’s a shark, a round one, and Gura traps him in a bubble.

“This is no place for a kid, we need to get her to her family,” Amelia says, and she joins Gura, drawing a smaller shark, giving it an adorable smile.

“A baby!” Gura gasps.

“Yeah, like you.”

“I’m not a baby!” Gura chucks some sand at Amelia, who’s in the middle of saying something.

For the first time in her adult life, Amelia Watson eats damp sand.

“GURA!” Officer Oozora yells, and hands Amelia a bottle of water. The detective spits out what she can, and chugs the entire bottle down. What a brat!

“That’s pretty rude, how old are you, 5?”

“I’m over nine thousand years old!” Gura proclaims, throwing sand in the air. If any gets in her mouth, she doesn’t show it.

“She means she’s over nine!” Officer Oozora dusts some sand off Gura’s head, and the girl latches onto the officer immediately.

“Yeah, she looks eleven or twelve. Hey Gura, do you remember who your parents, or siblings are?”

“Yeah, they’re under there.” She points to the sea, and Officer Oozora gasps, pulling Amelia aside.

“I think her family committed suicide but she survived!” Officer Oozora whispers, and Amelia responds with a very eloquent “uh”.

“Detective, we have to find her next-of-kin!”

“Already on it,” Amelia says, and looks back at the girl in blue, still drawing more sharks. “Hey Gura, why were you here anyway?”

Hopefully, she’ll say something silly like “Oh, I was selling seashells by the seashore!”

Gura looks up, looks towards the shark, and says, “I smelled blood and followed it.”

“Whoo! Yeah baby, this is so fun!”

Amelia Watson watches as Gura spins around in her chair. She hits the stop button, and watches with more amusement as Gura shakily stands up, her legs wobbling as she tries to walk in a straight line. She gives up and falls down on the carpet.

How the hell did she get herself into this situation?

As luck would have it, Gura doesn’t show up on any records. She’s very agreeable and cooperative with Office Oozora’s investigation, and with the power of Amelia and Subaru, she’s declared as a child who just lost her entire family, and is possibly suffering from memory loss. Her citizenship status? Well, Subaru’s additional job is to find out whether Gura is a foreigner, who somehow crossed the sea to get over here.

And Amelia’s additional job is to take care of Gura as her temporary guardian. What a pain. But it can’t be helped, because Gura had shown a strong preference for Amelia, announcing it loudly by saying “Wow, your hair is so pretty, like sunshine! I love it, Ame! Oh my goodness, maybe I love you!”

Amelia wanted to curl up and die, but no, Subaru had to laugh at her and make her custodian. Fine. She’ll show Subaru that making a reckless detective a custodian is a terrible decision.

“Hey, Gura, wanna join me at work?”

“Okay!”

Chapter Text

The Oozora Police managed to extract the location of the tattoo parlour from the survivors, but goddamn, they must have gotten it wrong because Amelia found herself buying fried chicken for an impatient Gura, before getting the right address. Instead of the sound of battered meat sizzling in hot oil, this place at least has the faint buzz of a tattoo machine. Amelia looks around. There’s no signage, and the windows are tinted. The neighbourhood itself is rather quiet, an old bookstore being the only other shop open. Maybe Amelia should move in.  Amelia knocks on the door politely - three short raps. No response. Huh, maybe she should try again? Oh nevermind, Gura’s giving it a go.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

They hear someone swear from inside. The door slides open, and Amelia is about to enter when someone blocks the doorway.

“No minors allowed.” A woman waves the detective away, squinting at the young girl beside her. “You doing some shady business? Go away.”

“I’m a detective.” Amelia Watson passes the woman her name card, which is chucked aside without a care. Obviously not impressive enough.

“And she’s a kid.” The woman scowls.

“She’s with me. She’s like my apprentice. Look, I’m trying to solve a crime.”

“I’m not getting paid,” Gura pipes up.

“It’s an internship.” Amelia quickly adds on, and the woman frowns.

“The only crime is you trying to bring a minor into a tattoo studio. You want to get arrested here?”

“Oh okay, fine, we won’t come in. Can we at least ask you some questions? Here?”

The woman eyes the duo. Gura flips her off, and the woman clicks her tongue. “What an attitude. Fine. Ask.” She shuts the door, and stands between it and the two investigators.

“Thank you. First, can we get your name?”

“You can call me Z.”

“Right then, Z. We’re aware that some of your clientele come in looking for marine themed tattoos. Is that right?”

“Yeah, I’d say most of them do.”

“And who gives them their tattoos?”

Z scowls, and pushes her long, messy hair out of her eyes. “Look, if you looking for Seaman-” Amelia swallows her laughter. “-he left, okay? He’s just so traumatised, knowing what has happened.” Z bites her thumb.

“How did he find out?” Amelia asked, and Z glares at her.

“Detective, just because this news isn’t reported, doesn’t mean we’re completely ignorant. We been losing business cos word gets around. No one wants to get their tattoo done by a cursed man.”

“A curse?” Gura’s eyes sparkle, and she bounces forward.

“Yeah kiddo, a curse. People are saying that his tattoos must have angered the gods or something - see, if it keeps getting ripped off, there must be something that the gods don’t wanna see.”

“You’re saying that a god decided to skin them. Because the tattoo offends them, Amelia rephrases, slowly, and Z nods. “Not some maniac who’s crazy about collecting tattoos.”

“What kind of messed up kink is that?!” Z exclaims in horror, and looks at Gura. “You not being kidnapped right? Blink twice if you are.” She whispers the last part.

Gura stares unblinkingly.

“Man, you freaking me out. Any more questions?” Z asks, and Amelia notices how fidgety she is, her fingers dipping into and out of her pocket. Probably some nicotine craving. She’d better let the poor woman get a break.

“One last thing. Where can we get in touch with Seaman?” She has to bite her tongue to prevent herself from laughing.

“Are you fucking serious - Seaman is suffering and you gonna torture him more? I’ll be honest, I have no idea. He said he was going on a spiritual retreat to find some peace. God, you fucking detectives… I’m done!” She slips into the parlour, and slams the door. A click. Well, that’s it for Z.

“Is Seaman on a holiday?” Gura asks, and Amelia nods. “Aww.”

Amelia glances back behind her as they troop off. No matter, she’s a top tier detective! World class! She’ll do anything she can to solve a crime! Absolutely respectable!

She turns back towards the tattoo parlour, takes a deep breath, and rams against the door. She hits it with so much force that she’s thrown back. It shakes, but that’s about it. Goddamnit.

“These shoes were meant for kicking!” She yells, getting up, and slamming her right foot onto the door. There’s a sound of success - a crack, and Amelia whoops, readying herself for a second ram, clenching her teeth and tensing her muscles. As she launches herself towards the already battered door, she wonders why there isn’t any noise from within the parlour. No matter, she’ll find out when she’s inside.

Gura yells, and speeds past Amelia. The door breaks before Amelia touches it, and in the midst of her maximum velocity, she trips over a ledge, surprised, tumbling into the room and landing. Hard. There’s something about this situation that feels oddly familiar.

“First!” Gura cheers, and pattering of feet moves around the dark room. So much for a surprise entrance. Strange, it’s quiet. No one is screaming at them. The room smells extremely stale, and there’s an unwelcoming mix of leftover food and a metallic tinge in the air.

Amelia untangles herself, and gets to her feet - what’s that behind her? Oh, it’s a desk, full of stencils, tools, and reference photos. They’re splayed out messily, and in the dim light, Amelia can’t make out the designs clearly. She hobbles towards the lights, and steps on something wet along the way. Please let that be ink, please let that be ink.

The lights flicker on, the hum of static interrupted by Gura’s excited run back to Amelia.

“Whoa.” She skids to a stop, crashing into Amelia’s back.

Red. Smeared on the floor, trailing towards the back of the room. Amelia breathes in, and looks at Gura.

“Hey, you can smell blood, right? Go ahead, do your thing.”

Gura nods, and gets on all fours, pressing her body near the floor. She takes a huge whiff.

“Yep, that’s blood.”

“Great, Sherlock. Whose blood?”

“I dunno. It’s just blood.”

Amelia smacks her forehead. Good grief. There’s no body this time, no victim left behind to tell the tale. Just a trail of blood. She calls Subaru, before someone walks in and accuses her of murder.

Nobody speaks. The scene is being preserved, photographers scuttling around, police officers tiptoeing around their very, very angry superior.  Opposite her, a nervous detective avoids her gaze, and focuses on the young girl beside her.

Amelia Watson had been very productive, scanning the photos, making discoveries, and was in the midst of following the trail of blood when a police car had rolled up. She had never seen Officer Oozora so angry.

“You brought Gura to a crime scene?” Officer Oozora serves an incredulous glare to Amelia, who sighs.

“She’s a valuable asset! She can smell blood!” Amelia protests, and Officer Oozora raises an eyebrow.

“So, what did she say about the blood?”

“It’s blood,” Gura answers, nodding solemnly.

“Hah! Detective, you have gone too far this time. Exposing a kid to such a scene-”

“It’s okay, this isn’t my first rodeo,” Gura says, and Officer Oozora freezes.

“I swear this is the first time I brought her to work.” Amelia yelps as Office Oozora lunges for her.

“Detective!” She gasps, and shakes Amelia by her shoulders. “Exposing a child to trauma is not becoming of you!”

“Don’t hurt Ame! We found clues!” Gura tugs on Subaru’s uniform, and the officer releases her grip.

“Clues?”

“Yeah! Seaman!”

Officer Oozora screams and has to hold herself back from strangling a detective in front of a child. She settles for resting her palms heavily on Amelia Watson’s shoulders.

“There better be a good explanation for this.”

“Thank god,” Officer Oozora mutters.

“Please, do you really think I’d fall to such levels of depravity?” Amelia asks, and receives a glare. “Oh, alright. But Officer, I do believe I have made some important discoveries.” Amelia flourishes towards the table, and the trio are drawn towards the same desk Amelia had collided with upon her grand entrance.

“These are!” Officer Oozora snaps on a pair of gloves, and looks through each photo. “The tattoos on the victims! Right after they were done!”

“Whoever did this must have wanted to keep track, because each photo has a number, and over here,” Amelia waves a file, “is where you can match the numbers to the clients. It also includes the money they paid, the completion date, and their contact number.”

Gura noses at the file. “Urgh, it’s stinky.”

“What’s even more interesting, is that you might find a little heart besides some of the clients.”

Officer Oozora peers at the papers in the file. The handwriting is messy, but she’s seen worse. Despite the scrawl, the data seems well organised; the dates are meticulously penned in, and the owner has even scribbled in small details about each client.

“Fentom Bilgier, hardcore Evanescence fan. Rejected his Evanescence tattoo since he had a budget. Gave him a guitar on fire instead.”

“No, not that.” Amelia points at the next page.

“Issac Daymond. Parents misspelled his name. Came with his friend to get a mermaid and jellyfish, and came back another time for a big one on his back.” Officer Oozora gasps, recognising the description. “There’s a heart beside him.”

“Yup. This one too. Tabasco Tabasco. Claims that’s his real name. No judgement. Came with his friend for an octopus and goldfish, left with the outline of the Great Wave. Finished it on March 1st.” Amelia traces a gloved finger over the heart.

“Vin Petro.” Officer Oozora reads, and stops halfway. “He has a heart too. Who else? Maybe we can narrow down his victims!” They split the rest of the papers, flipping furiously through the names and profiles, before landing on two more names.

“Mori. Didn’t give full name. Looked in and didn’t get a tattoo. Did nick a coke from us though. Quite a looker.” Officer Oozora frowned at the description. “Maybe she’s already got a tattoo or something.”

“Look.” Amelia catches the officer’s attention. “Leslie Lee. Not my type but I did give her an ink. Brave girl took it at her ribs. Somehow she started working for me. November 16th.”

“Started working for him… You don’t mean she’s the woman you saw earlier?”

Amelia nods, pulling up search results from her phone. “Same person.” A woman with dyed, messy hair, and a tattoo on her neck sticks her tongue out at Officer Oozora. “Same tattoo as well. A star on her neck.”

“But that’s not marine related.” Officer Oozora points out, and her eyes widen. “Oh my god. Her ribs.”

“SHUBASHUBASHUBA”

Everyone jumps, and Officer Oozora answers her phone, her face bright red.

“I told you guys not to mess with - what, you found her?”

Chapter Text

Leslie Lee, or Z, had just turned away two pesky detectives, and was about to head to the back of the office to have a smoke. She just needed to clear her head, maybe find out where Seaman went, and pay off her debt to him. He had been so nice, he had saved her when she was on the brink of throwing everything away. He taught her his trade, tried to get her to go to school, and even told her to attend church or something instead of following “an aging loser”.

So when she locked the door, and turned around, she didn’t expect to see him there.

“I thought he went off on a retreat. I really did. But there he was. And he - wah!” She starts wailing, crying out like a lost child, and Amelia nearly feels guilty - maybe this wouldn’t have happened without her investigation. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if she stayed back.

“I just saw darkness, pitch black, and then - and then I woke up thanks to her.” Z looks towards the other witness in the corner of the room.

“Alright, thanks, Z.” Amelia moves her hand, and pats the bed frame instead, thinking of the physical pain the young woman is going through. She, along with Officer Oozora and Gura, approach the other woman in the corner. She wears a hoodie, although the hood is down, revealing long pink hair.

“Calliope Mori? I’m Officer Oozora, and this is Detective Watson. My colleagues have gotten your statement, but we’d like to clarify some things.”

“Yeah, sure.” The lady shrugs, and leans against the wall. Her red eyes fall onto Gura, who flips her off out of her companions’ sights. Whatever, it’s a cute attempt from a cute runt, so Calliope ignores her.

“According to your statement, you were in the area, and happened to see the assailant in the act.”

“Yup.”

“And when the assailant saw you, he ran off.”

“Man, I wouldn’t say ran. He left like a ghost. Really quickly and really spookily. He kind of glided away.”

“Okay… and why didn’t you give chase?”

“Dude, she was bleeding from her chest and I thought she was dying!” She yells, and sits down when Officer Oozora shushes her.

“Yes, Detective, any normal person would help the victim first.” Officer Oozora chides Amelia, who brushes it off.

“So, what were you doing in the area?”

Calliope Mori grunts, and shifts around in her seat. “Okay, this is going to be real embarrassing. I walked into the tattoo place while I was drunk, and thought it was another bar. I grabbed a coke from them, and just walked out. I might have also thrown up outside the shop, and then went home.”

Now, any judgemental looks are cast on her.

“Let me finish, goddamnit! I found out it was some vintage Coke, not meant for consumption. Felt really bad, and I just wanted to apologise and pay them back. I’m not someone who runs from what they started!” She mumbles, and Amelia snorts. “You got something to say?”

“No, no, not at all. An understandable circumstance. Thank you, Miss Mori.”

“She drank old Coke?” Gura whispers, a little too loudly, and Amelia is ushered out of the room before her laughter fills it.

“Well, Detective, it seems that our case is drawing close. Now we have two eyewitnesses.”

“Miss Mori did not get a clear view of the assailant,” Amelia reminds the eager Officer.

“One eyewitness. And he has a motive!”

“Go on.”

Officer Oozora breathes in, then triumphantly declares, “The victims all owed him money!”

“Mmhmm.”

“I thought about it, and I went to read that horrid skin story. Maybe there’s demand for tattooed skins in the black market!”

“Officer, now do you see why I read such stories?”

“Yes! His customers couldn’t pay him, but he already did his work. So he took back what he had done, and got his money back through illegal means! I’m not sure how he would have gotten that coke back.”

Amelia slow claps, and Gura follows suit, clapping excitedly.

“Wow. Perhaps you should replace Gura. She had one job and she’s… she’s doing something. But Officer, why then, is this particular incident so messy? The cut is not clean, there’s no burn marks, and the wound isn’t cauterised.”

“It’s elementary, Detective. Seaman was desperate. He was already being traced, so his motions were sloppy. I don’t think clean cuts on ribs are easy either. He was caught in the act, so he couldn’t have cauterized the wound.”

That’s some inductive reasoning. Amelia isn’t sure to feel proud or crushed. Officer Oozora’s caught up in her fantasy and has apparently discarded logic and evidence for a Sherlock roleplay session.

“Detective, we can leave this in your hands, right? I’ve got to attend to the victims and wrap things up.”

And now she’s being too complacent, leaving it all in Amelia’s hands. But the detective doesn’t mind. It’s a job, and she’ll get paid. Plus, she’d love to see what kind of man glides instead of runs.

Amelia Watson returns to the scene, this time making sure Gura doesn’t kick anything down. Yellow and black tape greets them, barely a deterrence at all. The feeble attempt has already been torn at some places, so Amelia walks through the largest gap. Gura makes a show of slipping past the smallest places. Before she can go anywhere, Amelia grabs her by her collar.

“No running around recklessly,” she whispers, and Gura nods, following the detective’s footsteps. Amelia paces around marked grounds, trying not to leave evidence of her presence. She notices Gura tottering behind her. Gura probably can’t really keep pace with her. Eh. Amelia Watson bends down.

“Come on.” She motions, and Gura excitedly jumps onto her, snaking her arms around Amelia’s neck. “You’re heavier than I thought you would be.” Amelia grumbles, but is careful with how she supports Gura’s legs.

“Ame.” Gura shifts, grabbing Amelia’s hair instead, and the detective winces, but turns in the direction Gura is tugging.

They’re not alone.

There’s someone shuffling about behind the shop, and Amelia can only make out a figure because of the streetlights. The figure turns, and Amelia ducks, but above her, Gura wobbles, and hits her head against the wall.

“Ouch!”

With that exclamation, the figure starts, and takes off.

“Aww hell no! Gura, door!” Amelia throws Gura, and she slams into the door, breaking it down.

“That’s not how I did it last time, Ame…” Gura grunts, and lets herself be carried up by Amelia again.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Amelia grins, and reaches into her pocket. Juice time! She feels the concoction (new and improved!) hit her, and grins as a pulse of energy shoots through her. Time slows to a crawl. And she dashes through the back of the shop, into the one way alley, and finds a normal, regular man. Rats, what a waste of the concoction. Luckily she had taken just a sip, and the effects wear off. Gura throws up in her stead.

“Seaman?” She asks, ignoring the puddle of puke beside her. She gets ready to toss Gura at him if he runs off again.

Seaman turns around. Unmistakably, he has to be Seaman. Where his body is not covered by a T-shirt and shorts, ink swirls around bare skin to show all types of marine life. A stingray floats above his left wrist, while swordfish dance around his forearm. A dolphin rears up towards his shoulder. On his other arm, an octopus does battle with a giant squid, seahorse, jellyfish, and anchors watching from his knuckles and fingers. His legs are dotted with bubbles, each containing different species of sharks and whales. As he turns around to run again, Amelia sees dark tentacles creep out from his sleeves and pants, and she tosses Gura at him.

Strike! Gura crashes into Seaman, who tumbles over, screaming as more sick gets onto him.

“Please!” He begs, and tries to get up on his feet. No luck, because a very nauseous Gura is clinging onto him.

“Please! I didn’t do anything!” He falls back on his feet, and lets out a blood-curdling scream. As he rolls over, Amelia realises how wet his shirt is. Even with the reduced light in the alleyway, she can guess what it is.

“What happened?” She runs forward to pull Gura off, and Seaman cowers before her.

“They’re after me. They’re after me.”

“Who?!” Amelia grabs his shirt, and yanks it up. Seaman yells, and Amelia grits her teeth. A fresh wound, and it’s not cauterized. It’s a clean cut, and whatever was attached to the tentacles is gone. She lets the shirt fall back, and Seaman crumples, whimpering.

“Z… It was Z…” He cries, and turns towards Amelia. “You! You’re a detective! I’ve seen you before! You can help me, right? You’ve solved so many crimes!”

“I-”

“Z… She’s changed, she’s become so strange after she joined- I didn’t mean for her to - but- she- she just!” Seaman starts blabbering, and Amelia slaps him.

“Calm down. Tell me everything.”

“Z… I told her to join church or something because she looked so troubled… I… I never told her to join a cult… I… she told me I shouldn’t-”

“Seaman.”

Seaman freezes up, and Amelia looks past him. A tall, young woman walks into the light.

“Seaman,” she says, and Amelia backs away, shaking Gura gently.

“Gura, go. Go and get Officer Oozora. Take my phone.” Amelia passes her phone to Gura, and nudges her away. The younger girl scrambles to her feet, and takes off, thankfully without anyone, or anything pursuing her.

“Seaman. Why did you come back? You were free. Free.” Z walks towards the tattooed man, who shakes so hard Amelia can hear his teeth chattering. Z’s eyes are glazed over, and Amelia finds that look uncomfortably familiar.

“Gaze into the abyss,” Z says, and turns Seaman’s head, ever so slowly, towards the wall. It glows, but Amelia can’t make out what’s on it.

“Wah… WAH!”

At first, Amelia thinks Seaman’s crying is becoming more pathetic, but she watches on, in horror, as his initial sob turns into a monstrous wail, far too deep and hollow for a normal man to pull off.

“W̶̻̘̯͕̲̲̫̬͇̓͆̀̐̈̾̿̇͠Ȃ̷̧̛̯̠̝̘̺̯̤̦̾̉͛͒̀̊͆̈͜Ā̶̺̫̫͂͆͑̿́̐̈́̏̍̆̋̑A̴̧̧̤̬͙̭͖̥͋͋̃Ḁ̷̘̙͇̞͉̩͍̤̬̬͍͓̃̋ͅH̷̳̺̭̯̲̝̺͈͚͐̎̈́͗̎̍̄̈́̓̚͝ͅH̸͔̭̻̺͋̈́̈́͑̋͊͒̕Ḧ̴̛̻̻̳̗̹̙̙͔̟̝̼͍̹̍̇͊̑͐̓̒̏͊̓̿̃”

“Oh god, oh god.” Amelia hisses, and stands up, taking yet another swig of her concoction. This time, she takes a huge mouthful.

“You’re being too noisy,” Z says, that eerie calmness reminding Amelia of Vin’s other friend. Without flinching, Z turns Seaman’s head in a quick movement, and snaps his spine.

Seaman stops wailing, and falls to the ground. He does not get up.

“Much better. Detective.” Z turns her head, but Amelia is sprinting off. “Oh, detective. Why. Do. You. Ru̶n̴ ̸s̴o̷ ̵f̶a̸s̸t?!” Z glides towards Amelia. “W̵a̷i̶t̸ ̶f̴o̴r̵ ̵m̷e̵”

Like that’s going to slow Amelia down. She sprints off, back into the shop, and looks for something, anything sharp to defend herself with. There’s a lot of tattoo equipment, but she doesn’t want to be engaged in a close ranged struggle. Not against that thing. Oh, but on the table - there’s some thin wire, almost like a fishing line. Who knows why it had been placed there, but she grabs it, and slings it around the table legs once, twice, tugging it taut. She loops it to the front door, hoping the wooden frame is much sturdier than it looks. The rest, she keeps in her hands, careful not to slice herself with it. Oh good, a moment to catch her breath. She stabilises herself, ignoring her smarting eyes, and waits.

A skid, dead leaves rustling, and the sound of dirt being kicked up. Amelia braces herself.

Z launches herself at Amelia from the doorway. Her hands reach out, veins stained black, as though it’s not blood, but ink running through them. Before black fingernails can scratch Amelia, Z catches herself in the trap, her legs cut cleanly off below the knee. Well, not entirely cleanly.  Amelia watches the line get trapped in Z’s shin bones, and the creature topples over, slamming its jaw into the floor. The tiles crack. As Z’s upper body collapses, the second round of wire slices into its forearms, stopping short between her bones, once again trapping the creature in place.

Z roars, a sound that rips from one’s lungs, tearing upwards until it’s released in a horrible growl. It’s not even beastlike, it’s just inhuman. The rippling howl echoes like she’s trapped in a small room, a haunting noise that almost, almost pulls Amelia closer, like a black hole.  Amelia doesn’t waste any time, swinging around, almost straddling the fallen Z, and loops the rest of the wire around its neck. Z thrashes about, screaming as she does, and the wooden frame shakes.

“Sorry, but it’s you or me.” Amelia pants, feeling the effect from her first sip of her concoction clash with the adrenaline pumping furiously through her veins. She pulls, and pulls, ignoring the gurgling noise from beneath her, and hears a rip. The body beneath her goes limp, and she falls over, rolling off the body and nearer to the front door. The door frame cracks, but holds out.

She wonders if Gura has managed to get Subaru, and tosses the wire down, stumbling towards the door. She pats it, as though to thank it, and is sure a splinter has just found a new home. Bile bubbles up, and she forces herself to swallow it and take a deep breath. Oh god, fuck the new and improved concoction. It lasts half as long, and the effects feel twice as bad. She hobbles towards the main road, and hears conversation. Good. People.

Her mind flies back to the body. Uh. Not good. But her feet carry her forward, and she catches wind of the conversation.

“... late! She’ll be mad!...”

“...I know, you don’t have to …”

“... without burning…! … time…!”

“... Hurry… Ina!”

Ina? Ina?

Amelia Watson staggers and collapses, her body unable to take another step. Something trickles from her nose and eyes, and she tilts herself to the side to prevent herself from choking on her own blood.

“Amelia?” A soft voice calls out, and Amelia sees grey eyes and dark purple hair. And huh? Orange? No, it can’t be - she opens her mouth, but coughs out blood instead. Oh god, she hopes she didn’t get any on Ina.

“Amelia, hold on, hold on, we’ll get you help!” There’s a gentle, but firm hold cradling her head, and she leans into it, sighing. It causes more blood to flow out, and she hears panicked voices getting further and further away.

Amelia Watson sees grey eyes and dark purple hair before she passes out.

Chapter Text

Amelia hates hospitals. White. Just white all around, the static humming of the machines, the blurred out chatter of patients and their visitors. The awfully curt buzzer when someone requests assistance. The expensive bills. The itchy blankets, the whirring of the wall-mounted fans, disturbed by the clacking when they get jammed oscillating. Hospitals suck! They’re sterile, foreign, isolated from nature, can be eerily quiet, and worst of all?

“No, you can’t get any work done.”

“But I’m fine!” Amelia says, pretty sure the IV drip is pointless. Her concoction wasn’t that bad, right? The health report says otherwise, listing internal bleeding, extreme fatigue, dehydration, food poisoning - Subaru sighs, wondering how the detective is alive.

As expected, Detective Watson’s great passion for eradicating crimes is what’s keeping her going. Or that’s what Subaru wants to believe, anyway.

“Detective, you need rest,” Subaru crosses her arms, “you have to recover to have another chance at impressing Miss Ninomae.”

Amelia snorts, and reaches for the small hamper on her table. Subaru swats her hand away. “Fine, fine, I’ll rest.” The stubborn detective stretches her hand out, and Subaru passes her the small basket. “Anyway, I think I’ve already impressed Miss Ninomae.”

“No way.” Subaru scoffs, watching Amelia struggle with the wrapping before lending a hand. “It’s not easy to get bloodstains off a white dress.”

Amelia groans, and buries her face in her hands, allowing Subaru to deconstruct the hamper. The officer lays bright yellow flowers,  two perfect apples, and a sports drink beside Amelia’s bed. The last thing - before Subaru can pull it out, Amelia stretches over, ignoring the tightness around her ribs, and waves an envelope at Subaru tauntingly.

“Hah!” Amelia’s smirk twitches into a wince, but she recovers, flapping the envelope around childishly.

“Well, I can’t deny that you have a charm that’s uniquely yours,” Subaru says quietly, and she sounds so subdued that Amelia just has to play it off.

“Oh no, you can’t fall for me, Officer! I have eyes for-” Amelia cuts short, her finger running over the intricate wax seal.

“Yes, yes, you and Miss Ninomae. I get it already, geez.” Subaru misses Amelia’s reaction, and grabs the apples. “I’m going to peel this for you, take it as a token of appreciation for closing the case.”

“Closing the case?”

“Yeah. Leslie Lee had a letter of confession on her body. She wished hell to whoever caught her, and her motives were all listed as well. She really wanted to monopolise Seaman.”

Amelia closes her eyes, her fingers still tracing the pattern on the wax seal. “I see. That’s good then, that’s good.” The officer however, is too quiet, unlike her usual bubbly self, and that sends Amelia’s eyelids fluttering open again.

“Subaru?” The casual usage of her name catches the officer’s attention, and she turns to meet Amelia’s gaze. “Where’s Gura?”

Subaru bites her lip. “She had to be sedated after seeing you in that state. She went absolutely feral, and almost attacked the hospital staff. She calmed down, and Miss Ninomae took her out for a walk after that.”

Amelia thinks about the broken door, and looks down at her ribs. “Is she the one who did this to me?!”

“Your words, not mine.” Subaru mimics the detective, and smiles apologetically. “She was screaming about how you were a reckless piece of shit. Her words, not mine.”

Amelia groans and settles down into a much more comfortable position, sighing as the soft bed embraces her. “What a brat.”

“She apologized, but you were unconscious.”

“That doesn’t count. I need to hear it out of her mouth. Maybe she could grovel beneath my feet.”

“Detective! With all due respect, she is a child! Also, Miss Ninomae seems to think Gura is your sister.”

“Bleargh. That’s a disgusting thought.”

“Alright, Detective, these apples are waiting for me.” Subaru shakes them around, and starts heading towards the door. Amelia waits until she is about to leave.

“Subaru?”

“Yeah?”

Despite the uncertainties swirling around in her head, the questions at the tip of her tongue, the anxiety that’s pooling in her stomach, Amelia knows with full certainty, to say at least one thing. And she does it with so much sincerity that she catches the officer smiling before she leaves.

“Thank you.”

It’s everywhere in the news - crazed lover manipulated by her abusive boyfriend to commit atrocities. It’s not the truth, but it’s far better than “Deranged murderer could transform into a necrotic batman - not the hot kind”, or “An end to our troubles! Possessed human gets decapitated by world-class detective”

For that matter, Amelia had insisted her name and her involvement to be excluded from any press releases. She had claimed that her actions would tarnish her reputation forever, even if it was in the name of self-defense. In fact, not a single article mentioned that Leslie had fallen prey to one of her traps while avoiding law enforcement. Every newspaper celebrated the death of the maniac who had ripped skin from flesh, and of course sensational news like the modus operandi had to be included.

The way the thin wire cut into flesh and muscle was similar to how meat was carved away from the victims’ skeletons, so it was conveniently fixed as the criminal’s choice of weapon. Maybe the Oozora Police was lazy, or maybe they had enough common sense to know they shouldn’t probe too much into this case.

Too bad common sense won’t stop Amelia.

Which is why, struggling against her instincts, she heads towards the tattoo parlour. One hand in her coat pocket, she traces the wax seal repeatedly. Lines weave together to form an eye gazing upwards, bordered by rings that interlock with curves. It’s a design that draws Amelia in, and she fears that even as she traces it, she’ll be sucked into something unexplainable. Her inner voice screams at her to stop, go home, have a nice cup of tea and sleep everything away. Her Watson voice tells her to walk on.

So she does, this time following the police tape, going round the shop instead of entering it. With every step she takes, she hears Ina’s voice, telling her to stop, to return, to keep herself safe. And at the same time, she hears the wall beckoning her. She steps past broken pieces of wood and glass, and gingerly ducks beneath yellow and black tape.

She finds herself in the alleyway, and sees a shadow of Seaman, of Leslie cradling his head, almost lovingly, before twisting it.

Amelia Watson blinks, and sees an empty alleyway. Yet it brings her no relief, and instead, nervous anticipation churns in her tummy.

She draws closer, seeing the imprints on the pavement - footprints that are too heavy for their size, handprints that have jagged lines where the fingerprints should be. They’re all sunken into the bricks, and Amelia steps hard beside them, just to make sure it’s indeed stone, and not plasticine. So it wasn’t some crazy aftereffect of the concoction. It was all real.

“I almost died,” she mutters in self–realization, almost grinning at the fact that she’s alive.

She approaches the wall, grimacing when she notices murky black spots splattered near it.

How disappointing. There’s nothing. She presses her fingers against the cold wall, and traces a pattern she has memorised.

Nothing.

And so, stupidly, she repeats what she heard that night.

“Gaze into the abyss.”

The wall gazes back at her. Amelia Watson feels so stupid. She tries again.

“Wah?” Oh okay, maybe she has to summon it from the abyss of her throat and lungs. Maybe it has to be an utterly inhuman -

Something seizes her by the throat, and she backs away, eyes widening.

The wall remains, but that’s not where the intense pressure is coming from. She reaches into her other pocket. Ah, fuck. She forgot her concoction. The fear is almost paralysing, and she has to force herself to even stand properly, and breathe, goddamnit, BREATHE!

“Amelia?”

She spins around, and flinches when she sees Ninomae Ina’nis beyond the police tape.

“That’s not how you do it,” Ina says, and it’s quiet, but something about her tone tells Amelia, run, RUN NOW! The hairs on her neck stand, and she almost bolts. But she’s incredibly stupid and stubborn.

“Ina? What are you doing here? This is a crime scene!” She manages to free her tongue, and gasps when the lights around Ina flicker.

“You should stop, Detective. You have won,” Ina says, word for word matching the letter she had written for Amelia. “You solved the case. You did the impossible. You shouldn’t be playing such dangerous games. You really-” she punctuates each word with a step towards the detective, her feet seemingly melting into the shadows as she moves, “Should. Take. Care. Of. Yourself. Amelia. Watson.” Amelia shudders at how Ina caresses the last word, and takes a bold step to come face to face with her date. The only thing missing is “with all my love, Ninomae Ina’nis”.

“Say, I never found out why you were near here the other night.” Amelia forces herself to grin. A self-serving act that imbues her with some confidence.

Ina smiles back, and reaches for her right hand.

“Why, I was perusing old books at a bookstore,” She replies innocently, and runs two gloved fingers firmly against Amelia’s palm playfully, pressing into soft meat. “It’s fascinating to look at inked things.” Her fingers glide upwards , the tips kissing Amelia’s own fingertips. All fingers bend to interlace, except the index fingers. Ina’s right palm rests on Ina’s back, the pair stuck in a strange waltz as Ina pushes their chests dangerously close. Ina’s left hand guides Amelia’s right hand in an arc, and she whispers.

“This is how you do it, Detective.”

The wall glows, and the symbol that captivated Seaman flares to life, an eye piercing upwards, rings bordering it, interlocking with lines that stretch across the wall. Amelia traces it with her left finger, and Ina tuts at her action.

“You shouldn’t gaze that long,” Ina murmurs, and sweeps to the side, partially obscuring Amelia’s vision while pulling her closer.

“Will it gaze back at m-”

“Duck,” a husky voice says, cutting through Amelia’s words. The detective catches orange and a spark before a bright light blasts into the wall.

 Amelia tucks her head into the crook of Ina’s neck, and finds gentle - appendages?! - wrapping around her gently. She headbutts Ina in the process of looking up, hearing the other woman hiss in pain.

“You fucked up, kusotori. Why would you blow up the wall?”

“Hey Calli! I tried to control myself but Gura bumped into me!”

“Kiara, you shouldn’t blame Gura,” Ina says, and her breath tickles Amelia’s ear. Amelia isn’t sure if she’s aroused or terrified. Probably both. Why. Wait. Wait!

Gura?! Is Gura here as well? What the fuck. That, with the combined shock of seeing long, pink hair, and an annoyingly familiar orange that has eluded her more than once, Amelia can do nothing but let her mouth drop open. It’s a miracle she hasn’t passed out yet.

“Oh Dee-teck-teeve Watson~” She can recognise that sing-song voice anywhere, and strains to kick backwards.  Something bumps against her legs, and she tries, but Ina is holding her tight.

“Behave.” She’s warned, but she swears it sounds more like a challenge than an order.

“You really shouldn’t have come here.” Amelia watches in fascinated horror as red eyes, unnaturally bright, approach her. She can’t tear her gaze away. A flick of the wrist, a giggle from somewhere else, and a shadow starts to shroud the group.

It’s a bit late, but Amelia Watson realises she’s made a terrible mistake.

“Oh Detective, you really shouldn’t have come here.” Ina cradles her face, and Amelia lets herself be swallowed up by the darkness.

Chapter Text

There’s no case that Detective Amelia Watson can’t solve. Not a single one. She identifies each culprit terrifyingly fast, which is why the Oozora Police Department calls upon her so often. Which is why after her extended holiday, Oozora Subaru bursts into her office excitedly.

“Detective! We need your help!”

Amelia Watson spins around in her chair, a precise 180 degree turn that has her staring at Officer Oozora.

“I know which case you need help with.”

“Huh, but how?”

“It’s simple, really.” Amelia Watson stands from her chair, and grins, waving a stack of documents. “I’m Amelia Watson.”

Officer Oozora rolls her eyes, but reaches for the documents. “I can’t believe it… you really worked on your holiday. I can’t believe it. The cult is here, but you solved it from, from, where was your holiday again?”

“Officer, that’s confidential. Who would have thought there would be a cult practicing human sacrifices here? Right under our noses.”

“indeed. We live in dangerous times.” Officer Oozora sighs, exhausted from trying to keep everything under wraps. Finally! Finally she can get a break. She flips through the papers again, her faith in the detective unwavering, but her faith in her own eyes, absolutely zero.

“I can’t believe it was just one man.” Her eyes scan over the reports, the photos, the undeniable evidence, again and again. The detective had somehow managed to capture the handwritten manifesto of the culprit. But not before eleven youths had been killed, their bodies gruesomely stripped of flesh. It seemed that some of them had been tossed into an incinerator, and some of them tossed into the sea, their skeletons left as the only way of identifying them. Three of the eleven were the only other members of the cult, all misled by the charismatic words of a bloodthirsty, vengeful bastard.

“You should rest, officer. Those eye bags are heavier than Gura.”

“I will.” Subaru yawns, and smiles at the detective. It’s so nice that she has found some family. Maybe that’s why she’s so gentle now, so calm. The change unnerved Subaru at first, but a peaceful detective isn’t bad. Hopefully the peace spreads throughout the entire town as well. “Say hi to her for me.”

“I will.” Amelia waves, and watches as Subaru is about to close the door. “Wah.”

“Did you say something?” The officer turns around, and Amelia clears her throat.

“No, no, just got something stuck in my throat. Ah-ah-ah.”

“Alright, take care not to catch a cold.”

The door closes, and Amelia is left alone.

For a moment.

The shadows in the corner of her office bleed into the floor, expanding until a thin woman with dark purple hair trailing past her hips steps out.

Amelia’s eyes gloss over, and the woman knocks her on her head.

“Amelia Watson, if you pull such a stunt again, you’re sleeping on the couch!” Ninomae Ina’nis hisses, and Amelia cracks up, her body shaking as she bursts into laughter. “I mean it!” Ina pinches Amelia’s cheeks, and the detective yelps.

“Oh, does that mean I get to sleep with Inya?” Gura crawls out from under the desk. She’s hidden a whoopee cushion under Amelia’s chair, and thinks the detective won’t notice. “You’ve been hogging her since that stupid case, Stinky.”

“Oh, are you jealous?”

“You bet your ass I am!” Gura wraps her arms around the two women. “We tried our best but you could still find holes in our plan?”

“Gura, we went over this before!”

“You smelled blood and you followed it? What kind of ‘kid’ says that to the police?” Amelia’s so busy trying to keep everyone out of sight, and Gura pulls this stunt, strutting up to the beach in front of the police!

“I was bored and decided to join you. Smoke out Calli and Kiara or whatever.”

Amelia snorts. “Yeah, Kiara almost smoked herself out. I’ve told you all, if you use any abilities, please make them seem coincidental! How could she mess up the timing of that spark? She even ran away from me. Why, when she drops by, I’m going to give her such an earful! You guys really have to be more careful…” Amelia trails off, and Gura hops onto her chair.

“Well, I made mine real coincidental. And real. Kinda feel bad for the shark, but it was in my territory.”

“The only one who’s trying is Calli. She really avoids any surveillance cameras, and commits unseen crimes. And she had such a cool story to go with it too, all while keeping to her oath not to take a life.”

“Yeah, too bad all we get is sashimi. You know what sounds good? Ribs. Man, I think Ina would agree.”

“The key point is that like her crimes, Calli was unseen. Unseen. Out of sight.”

“Whoa, Watson, this chair has a switch now?”

“Gura, are you even listening?” Apparently not, seeing as how Gura is fiddling around with Amelia’s new and improved (and fairly expensive) chair. She gives up.

“Whoo! Yeah baby, this is so fun!”

“Surveillance cameras are a pain!” Gura growls, burying her face in Amelia’s chest, as the blonde struggles to balance the Atlantean on her lap. “Ina had to do some weird thing that hid my tail!” Now free, it swishes around and smacks Amelia’s legs.

“Where’s Calli and Kiara?” Amelia asks, and Gura shrugs.

“Maybe Calli’s scolding Kiara after all that trouble she gave you.”

“Well, she’s leaving the biggest troublemaker out,” Amelia mutters, and Gura nips at her neck. “Oi!”

“I don’t understand how you can be so smug in our presence,” Ina muses, and Amelia Watson, cocky as ever, flashes her a confident grin.

“Because you all love me.”

True.

“And because I’m so awesome.”

“You’re awesome?! I can’t believe that’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth, Ame! You - you- scoundrel!” Kiara reaches out to hammer Amelia lightly, but Ina’s tentacles guard the detective.

“She’s annoyingly smug but she’s right,” Ina says, and Amelia wraps her arms around Ina, tentacles and all. “You still shouldn’t have gone back. We weren’t done cleaning up.” Ina frowns. “You could have been hurt.” She sounds so gentle, but oh boy, Amelia can see that she’s furious, deep down. And Ina will find her own way to discipline her. Amelia looks forward to it.

“Oh really, like seeing her collapsed once wasn’t surprising enough?” Calli points a finger accusingly at Amelia. “Ina and Kiara nearly killed everyone around, you reckless mothe-”

“Language, Calli,” Kiara chides.

“I can’t believe you called the cops before I had a chance to properly get the ribs,” Calli sulks silently.

“You created a stronger concoction, no, two stronger concoctions. And used them.” Ina’s eyes glow, and Amelia gulps.

“All to prove us as incompetent criminals,” Kiara laments. “You’d put your life in danger to one-up your girlfriends.”

“She called me a child.” Gura bares her teeth, “I’m gonna bite your kneecaps off one day, Watson.”

“Haha, I love you all too.” Amelia Watson has the cheek to say, but those words work. Her girlfriends calm down, and Calliope Mori is the one to shift them somewhere else.

“Come on, let’s go, I bet Ina and Gura are starving. We’ve got some fresh ones.”

“Inked?”

“You bet.”

“We can have dessert after too. Can’t we, Amelia?”

Amelia chuckles, feeling the same mixture of fear and arousal as four pairs of hungry eyes dart towards her.

“You’re all insatiable.”