closed | ship shape and shoe shine

[metafictions]

WHO: Kim (aceslow) & Kamui (metafictions)
WHAT: Two detectives breaking into a residence without a warrant.
WHERE: An apartment somewhere in the residential area
WHEN: Pre-event
WARNINGS: n/a


[For a short while, Kamui hopes in vain that they'll all be returned home before they need to start worrying about lodging. Unsurprisingly, that isn't the case. And, equally unsurprisingly, this strange abandoned city is prepared to serve them with a place to sleep within four safe walls-- like it's provided everything else for them so far.

Like any good little skeptic, he's not about to accept a free bed without a healthy amount of hesitation. And a prospective roommate.

So here Kamui and Kim find themselves: face to face with a door, one of many identical doors on the second floor hallway of this apartment building. Like every other door they've tried so far, this one is also unlocked-- Kamui, in the lead, jiggles the handle to verify-- but this is the first they've actually planned to enter. So, with a glance over his shoulder at his current companion and a nod, the younger man opens the door, finding a plain yet fully-furnished two bedroom apartment within. ]

It's just like everything else here... [Kamui says quietly to himself, walking through the doors. He turns to Kim again once the man's walked through the door, too.] But it looks like someone was living in this place until just recently. [He points at the couch in the center of the common area: there's a bright orange blanket draped across one of its arms, unfolded and ill-matching with the rest of the decor's neutral tones.]

I think we should be careful.

Comments

[aceslow]

[ Kim really hadn't intended to sleep here.

He's been avoiding everything. Eating, drinking, sleeping -- hell, he even eyed the washrooms suspiciously, but he's not enough of a lunatic to go around pissing in the streets. But as the day grew long and he grew more and more weary, he begrudgingly began to accept the fact that he couldn't keep this up forever. He's not altogether certain what he's afraid of, just that he can't help but be hesitant about this whole ordeal. Maybe he's read too many fairy tales where eating means that you're stuck within the clutches of nefarious mystical beings for the rest of your natural life. ]

I just wish I had my gun, [ Kim grouses. ] I came with everything else, but... [ He opens his jacket just a peek, enough so Kamui can spot the brown leather holster still strapped to him, mysteriously absent of its companion.

He walks through the space carefully, slowly opening every door and peering around the corner before stepping inside. Once they're in, he begins casing it with the pattern of someone well-used to it, looking underneath the beds, inside the closets, behind the furniture. Nothing. Nobody. As they had bothe xpected. ]

And I think you're right. Someone was living here. This isn't a show home in the same way that the administrative building was. [ He picks up a book on the coffee table, the spine worn and pages crinkled, still open to where the last inhabitant had stopped reading. He traces the pads of his fingers down the page thoughtfully. ]

Something happened to them.

[metafictions]

[The younger man catches sight of the empty holster and frowns, knowing well what should be there and isn't; Kamui hums, a resigned, sympathetic sort of agreement.]

They preserved every coin and receipt in my pockets, but I'm missing my own, as well.

[So the powers that be want them well cared for and disarmed... Good to know.

But the investigation, as ever, comes first. Like Kim, he's accustomed to a bit of a search, and together, they've picked the place clean without much of a fuss. (It's almost a comfortable feeling, silently investigating alongside another detective: he really is fortunate to have run into Kim over anyone else on his first day.) Kamui might think the place eerie, had he not already spent the entire day in this strangely empty city. As is, it's a clue. An odd one, but a clue nonetheless.

Kamui, still holding a stained mug from the kitchen, wanders over just as Kim's examining the worn and well-read book.] Killed, evacuated... [he sets the mug down, turning it around; the dry coffee stains on its outside match a half-ring that's formed on the table.] Or otherwise disappeared?

[He looks up at Kim, pensive.] Either way, relocating a city's worth of people must have been a huge undertaking.

[aceslow]

[ Kim begins to pace around the room, brow furrowed. This is what a partner is for, he knows -- to discuss theories out loud, to bounce ideas back and forth, to make sure that one of the partners doesn't just wind up spinning in circles. It's something so innate to the profession that even Harry, suffering from amensia as he was, automatically fell into it again with Vicquemare. It's less second nature to Kim, who has been without a partner for quite some time now, but there's something reassuring about falling back into that reassuring patter, flinging ideas back and forth no matter how foolish they may appear at first blush. Kim doesn't know what to make of Kamui himself yet, but he seems a clever enough sort, with his head on straight. At least he seems more cautious than everyone else is. ]

One I cannot even begin to imagine. The way things have been left behind, if it were a willing evacuation, it wasn't one with any warning whatsoever. If unwilling, then there are no signs of struggle anywhere. No blood, no scratches, nothing in obvious disarray. I would have at least brought my book with me if I knew I had to evacuate.

[ He nods at the table, where the book sits. ]

But a willing evacuation is never total. There is always someone who wants to remain in their home, no matter the cost. And a willing evacuation is usually accompanied by some sort of threat -- war, natural disaster, disease.

[ He leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed. ]

I've seen no evidence of anything of the sort. Unless they were disappeared from here in the same way we were disappeared from our own homes, I suppose.

[metafictions]

[The cadence of the detective's back and forth is well-worn and familiar to him, too. For Kamui's part, however, he's more accustomed to being the sounding board than spinning out the theory itself-- a consequence of being the rookie in the room, or the easiest one to dismiss, maybe. Kim, meanwhile, is cool and composed, with the obvious presence of an experienced investigator. So he takes a seat on the couch and watches the older man pace, waiting for Kim to finish spinning out his thoughts before he chimes in again.

At last, he picks up the book on the table and flips through it. There's a little paper bookmark stuck close to the end, far away from where it'd been originally open to. Indeed, as if the previous inhabitant had disappeared before they could mark where they'd stopped.]

No threats, no signs of resistance, no old inhabitants left behind whatsoever.

[He picks out the bookmark, tucks it into the book, and closes it before setting it back down on the tabletop.]

Which brings us back to the "otherwise", when we still don't know what brought us here in the first place.

[In other words, nowhere nearer to an answer than before they walked in.]

[aceslow]

That's right. We have more information than we did before, but I don't think we're going to figure this place out by virtue of clues alone. Not when the playing field has entirely changed. Elastic thinking has never been one of my strengths, I'll admit.

[ He's good at solid, stable detective work. If you want a murder solved in the most straightforward way possible, he's your man. He'll interview witnesses, trace the victim's steps, inspect the corpse, fill out of the paperwork, question everything and everyone around him. But that's all he'll do. The hunches, the wild goose chases, the hunt; that's all Harry. And Eyes before him. But never Kim.

He takes a seat across from Kamui, gloved hand roaming underneath his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose, frustrated beyond belief, largely because it's a better alternative to the creeping feeling of fear nagging at the pit of his stomach. ]

You came up with that theory of a social experiment, when we first met. [ He removes his glasses fully now, wiping them down with his handkerchief. ] What do you make of it now?

[metafictions]

Well...

[Kamui starts, then trails off: unsure of whether it's right to try to reassure Kim, or if there's anything to be said at all. He's no elastic thinker, either. He's only adaptable in the way a rabbit in a trap is, willing to wriggle its way out when pushed by desperation. This isn't that at all-- eerie emptiness aside, all their creature comforts have been provided for.]

I guess we'll have to wait for more clues to present themselves. [is what he ultimately lands on. He's not happy leaving it at that, either, but it's all he's got. A long time ago, someone told him there were no shortcuts in detective work-- this, he thinks, will probably turn out to be one of those very long and winding roads to the truth.

He turns Kim's next question over in his head, hands folded neatly in his lap.]

Nothing has proven it for sure. [he answers, thoughtfully.] But nothing's disproven it, either. For all we know, it could turn out to be something even weirder.

[A faint smile that is just a little wry.] I'm fresh out of ideas, though. I hate to say it, but we might need to call it for the evening. It's already starting to get dark.

[aceslow]

[ Kim sighs. It is not the first time he has sighed in Kamui's presence. It is probably about the seventh or eighth time he's sighed in his presence, in varying forms of frustration and thoughtfulness, but there's something particularly world-weary about this one as he casts his gaze out the window, the setting sun throwing his profile in sharp silhouette; his large, softly hooked nose, his gently protruding lips, his weak chin, the thick lenses perched atop the bridge of his nose. ]

You're right. It's already night...

[ But sleeping here feels... monumental, somehow. There's no chance of them sorting this mystery out now. There's no chance of escape. They've gone through all of their options as thoroughly as they possibly could have, and sleep deprivation won't get them any further. Realistically, he Knows that. But still, it feels almost like giving up. Like saying yes, I am trapped here, yes, I cannot return. Like the possibility of this whole thing being a bad dream has slowly come to an end.

He's tired, though. And his head hurts. ]

We should get some rest. [ He glances over at Kamui. ] We still don't know about this place, though. Maybe we should take turns. Keep watch. See what happens.

[ It feels equally wrong to trust someone he just met - without even the tenuous bond of them both being in the RCM - with something as vulnerable as all that, but his gut says that Kamui doesn't mean him any harm. Even after a day of knowing him, it's hard to imagine him meaning anyone serious harm without due cause. So in this, like the past week has gone, he just has to trust his gut and take the leap. ]

[metafictions]

[Kim's profile look almost intimate in the sunset: every shadow angled a little further in that dying light, the furrows of wrinkles on his features dug into deeper silhouette, the high points of the man's face illuminated in the daylight's final glow. It's a familiarity, Kamui thinks, he wouldn't ordinarily have been afforded-- if not for the mere happenstance of Kim walking into the same diner as he had, not so long ago.

There's something to be said for happenstance. Being in the right place at the right time. Kamui's head tilts slightly as he watches Kim look out at the city, and he remembers Travis Touchdown: worlds away, but still hoping for Kamui to live his life in whatever light he could get.

And maybe being trusted, for the moment, by some other detective is just a fleeting glimmer. But it's still something.

Then, just like that, Kim's turned back to him.]

I agree. [Kamui rises.] In case someone comes back here, or... [Or what? Someone pops out from under the bed, to either complete this rotten prank or drag them somewhere worse?] Something like that. I don't mind taking first shift, either.

There's still toiletries in the bathroom if you want to use them. Do you want to stay out here, or take one of the bedrooms?

[aceslow]

...all right. That sounds good.

[ Normally, Kim would fight to take first shift. Both because his pride would demand it, and because it would be a good indication as to whether or not the trust he's extending is truly returned. But he's logical enough to admit when he's beat, and right now? He's beat. He's been running on fumes all week long and today was enough to tip him over the edge. ]

We'll stay in the same room. Just for the night. We don't know what we're in for tomorrow. But I'll wash up first. [ He gets up, gingerly touching his face again. In for a penny, in for a pound. ] In full disclosure, I'm currently concussed, [ he explains calmly. ] I don't think it's severe, but if I seem disoriented when I wake up, just know that's to be expected. I will wash up first, however.

[ It feels too exposed to shower, but he at least scrapes some of the lingering gel out of his hair and gives his hands and face a good scrub, goes at his teeth with his index finger and some toothpaste. When he puts his glasses back on to stare at his familiar reflection again, even marred by bruising and exhaustion, it feels oddly grounding. His surroundings have changed, but he is still Kim Kitsuragi. Same as he's ever been.

When he steps out, he at least feels halfway human again. ]

You should wash up before taking watch too. You'll feel better.