Post by Joseph Alvarez on Apr 25, 2015 4:50:42 GMT -5
PSYCHOPOMP
said the ex-con with a smirk as he reached out for a new roll of bandages once the scar was dressed and began wrapping it around his stomach.
”Y’know. Totally brilliant way to start off with a blank slate.”
”You do not like it?”
The detective on the other end leaned back, indulging in a bit of black humor as he lit up a cigarette and fumbled around for a light.
”I think it’s got a nice ring to it. Nowhere near as catchy as ‘Cane da Giustizia’ but there’s just a little je ne sais quoi in there to make criminals think twice, you understand?”
”On the contraire Dick Tracy, I like it fine.”
Joseph shrugged his shoulders in blasé fashion before finally standing up to part the curtains. Dawn had barely broken over the horizon, the thin ribbons of pink and orange slowly weaving their way upwards from the smoky cityscape and his 15th floor apartment room in the Wizen City projects offered the best view there was to be had downtown.
It wouldn’t be long until Jayda was up and he had to bustle her to school. And then, his latest assignment down in the ruins which had become a familiar background to his excursions with his team as of late.
”I’ve killed men in another life, shattered families who won’t have any closure the moment the courts decided to give me a second chance. That I’m now findin’ the dead to bring home and give closure to their families, that’s some straight-on karmic shit right there.”
He could hear Looker’s humorless chuckle through the Skypecall as he turned around and sat on his workdesk to face the detective who finally found a light and was taking a drag on the cigarette which was pointed squarely at him.
“Psychopomps. You have perhaps come across the term, Alvarez?”
came the casual inquiry, and Joseph’s wordless raise of the eyebrows connoted a clear negative as Looker went on.
”It derives from the Sootopolisian word psuchopompos. ‘Guide of souls.’. They are creatures; Spirits and angels who are responsible for escorting deceased souls from earth to the afterlife.”
”Charming.”
The ex-con thumbed his beard thoughtfully as he poured himself a small amount of morning whiskey into a glass from the nearby hip flask.
”What’s that got to do with me?”
“They have been associated with many different creatures within differing times and cultures my friend, but the most common depictions have always been dogs and crows or ravens.”
There was silence for several moments as the information sank in, and Joseph found himself staring at the dogtags he wore which were emblazoned with his codename in the back before his gaze flickered over to the Murkrow who was perched on his bedpost in deep sleep.
It lingered on the bird for a long time before shifting over to Looker once more
”And knowin’ is half the battle.”
He didn’t relate to the detective that he’d heard of the stories before even if he hadn’t heard the term until now.
Didn’t explain that part of his reasoning for choosing the Murkrow had been based on the concept that should the job claim his life one day, he would safely be delivered for judgment.
Something told him the road there was going to be cold and lonely
At the very least his guide would be a friend, someone he knew.
“Indeed.”
The Interpol agent tilted his head to a side nonchalantly before stubbing out the cigarette in an ash tray and Joseph found himself licking his lips subconsciously.
He’d given up smoking a while back for Jayda’s sake----there had been no regret on the sacrifice, though the hunger for a taste of nicotine still kicked up every now and then.
”So how long before your appraisal?”
”Two weeks. Makin’ progress.”
said the man as he heard the gentle knocking on the door and the muffled “Papa?” from the other side of it.
”Gotta go---termite’s up and runnin’.”
”Good. Godspeed, and do not let me down.”
Looker’s eyes narrowed as Joseph merely offered him a curd nod, lips pressed into a thin line of tension.
“Won’t.”
Despite the Ralts’ dislike for him, Siegfried’s absence---the creature had been recalled for a weekly debriefing today---was strongly felt as he careened down the caverns on the rope that was tied fast to a massive boulder on the surface, swinging down the ledge of another underground network of the ruins, this one a little closer to civilization.
It wasn’t until his boots had safely crunched on solid ground did he unlatch three Pokeballs from the bandoleer he wore, releasing the Togepi and Growlithe who were held within.
The last was the Poochyena who’d joined his team a few days back and she was the first he approached as he knelt down to clasp a leather collar around her neck, the firmness of his touch warning against any physical protestation.
”Gotta separate you from the wild ones. Show people you’re a part of a pack so they don’t try a fast one on you.”
said the man gruffly as he rubbed the creature’s head and stood up.
”Names have power. Names mean you’re you and not a faceless collective, so from here on, you’ll be known as Raksha. Means ‘Protection’ in Hoenn’s desert tongue. Figure you deserve it after protectin’ a kid before this. Wear it with pride.”
The Poochyena’s gaze was steady as she took it all in before nodding curtly in a businesslike manner and he allowed Adirael to hop into his arms where Gambit who’d been perched on his shoulder the entire time crawed a good-natured greeting at her.
”So listen up. Seein’ how we’ve sorta made a name for ourselves in…..retrieval, the brass done assigned us to map out this cave and check for any lost stragglers. Word is that an archaeologist went missing down here a few days back. Let’s see if we can track him down aight?”
He explained the day’s task to his team before adding as an afterthought,
”Alive, hopefully. And if not, well, figure you lot have had enough experience to know where we come in then. Let’s move out.”
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