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Mutants & Masterminds: The Indigo Children - Chapter 2: Tracking Down Clues (Rodney)


jameson (ST)

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Not for the first time in the past month did Rodney realize that things would go much more smoothly if only he had the police report, if only he could get the coroner's report. His adoptive father was dead. Killed months ago and dumped into the east river like some kind of discarded rubbish. The very thought of it brought anger and sadness to Rodney but there was nothing he could do now but try and bring the killer(s) to justice, somehow. The whole thing was hampered by the loss of his apartment and the search for a new place to live. He'd managed to find something, thankfully, but most of his belongings, and those of his father, were still in his old apartment behind police crime scene tape. Perhaps in a few more weeks, once the scene was less active, he could return and try and get his stuff back, surely his new friends would help him to do that.

All of this brought him to a weathered rooftop. The fat cop was in an all-nite diner stuffing his face again. Detective Albert Giodorni. Rodney was shadowing the man, his only link to the investigation of the crime, in the hopes of piecing together clues and maybe, just maybe, getting something that he could use. Luckily for Rodney he could hear better than most, if he was careful, and if he concentrated on listening he could usually catch the Detective's conversation with his partner, a nondescript fellow by the name of Jenkins. Despite being a fat and rather disgusting fellow Giodorni was a top notch detective. Penny had been able to tell him that much when he had asked her for help. Unfortunately the case was below the media radar and so there was little else to be found until they could get those reports.

As he ruminated on the past few months the two men finished their meal, chicken fried steak for the fat man and a salad for Jenkins, and started to review the case once more. They did this a lot, which at first seemed silly but Rodney realized that they were looking for some scrap of missed information, some connection that they had missed before.

"... Somebody, no something, if the coroner hasn't lost his mind, beats this guy to death, drops him in the east river to marinate, and then later goes back to the body to have a snack. At some point the remains float up and that dockworker has a bad morning." Giodorni nodded at Jenkin's review, crumbs of pie crust dribbled down his chin. "The man's apartment has been lived in an paid for, on time, since then up until we find the body and declare it a crime scene. No activity on the man's accounts since the time he died, so it wasn't a robbery or somebody taking over his identity. I dunno, Al, nothing we've found in the past few weeks has brought us anywhere."

"Mmmphh ..." Giodorni held up a finger and swallowed. "We've got more than that."

"It doesn't make any sense ..."

"And yet it is the information we have to work with. I don't like it either but the Coroner had a zoologist confirm it. The man's body was chewed on by a crocodile."

"Come on Al, you saying you think that damn urban legend is true?"

"No I'm saying we investigate all the information we have at our disposal."

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Crocidile? Not an Alligator, but a Crocidile unless the coroner had got it wrong.

Rodney needed that coroner's report to see what had been missed and how much he could fill in. For starters, he knew he hadn't murdered Dad, so looking into how had maintained the apartment for the past several months was ... wait, they hadn't accesses his emergancy account his Dad had set aside for him so ... it was almost empty anyway? What he going to do now that he had no place to live AND no money? Rob muggers?

Well, a Croc meant the sewers, and that being the sewers on the East Side. Maybe Raph could help with that.

What he could do now is try and locate the crime scene on the East river and see what he could see ... in the dark ... along miles of ... wait, the department had precincts and precincts had limited jurisdictions, right? That would limit the search area.

First he would tell Raph then he would track down the precinct boundries and set up his search grid. It had to be part of the riverside that had dock workers. That had to be of some help.

He flew on strenghtened wings to Raph's underground lair. Rodney didnt' want emotions clouding his judgement now. He needed to bounce his ideas off the older Altered to makes sure he was on the right path.

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The rest of the day saw Rodney flitting about between the abandoned warehouse he was taking shelter in, Raphael's subway lair, and the river. The subway tunnels are not the same as the sewer. The sewer stinks a lot more for one. Raphael had been of limited help, he said that the actual storm drains (what people call sewers) weren't terribly useful for travel because, unlike in the movies, they tended toward rather small diameters. He suggested that if a crocodile (or an alligator or what have you) really had mutated and was responsible in whole or part it was probably living in or near the river itself.

A quick call to Penny however did garner Rodney a better idea of where along the river he should look and the next evening he set out just after dark to see what he could see. It didn't take long, once he knew between which streets to search he simply flew along the water until he saw what he was looking for.

The crime scene, such as it was, was still surrounded by yellow police tape, though most of it was broken and blew about freely in the light breeze. Being less a crime scene and more the location of a body forensics had swept the area thoroughly including photos and video before removing the remains and any evidence. It didn't take Rodney long to perform his own search. After nearly a month there was little left that was worth looking at. The body had been found among the footings of a seldom used dock. The river's edge was rocky, and cold dirty water lapped at the area in rhythmic waves. Trash and bits of floating stuff made the water even dirtier and littered the rocks. He withdrew a flashlight an waved it around the area, following the riverbank upstream and down.

Twenty minutes later and half a mile upstream he found a rundown boat garage. What made him notice it was a smell of rot and decay, like the worst combination of a fishery and a slaughterhouse. Despite its rundown appearance and the horrid smell Rodney found that all the windows had been blocked and the doors boarded over. Somebody or something didn't want visitors.

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He kept as quiet as he could while searching for an possible entrance. Barring a skylight (unlikely in this kind of place), Rodney began working on the window closest to he nearest point of light. Normally he would have liked the deepest, darkest shadows, but whatever was doing this was no fan of the light. Better to not count on being able to escape by flight, not when he was going in through a window.

Rodney's problem was the he was a flyer. Agile and durable, he wasn't very strong in the lifting/breaking department. It wasn't like their were locks to be picked or security systems to be bypassed. No, all that training with Dad was of no use here. Here had had to be both strong, and quiet. Rodney did his best as he waited to get a glimpse of what waited within.

The rear padlock come up first. Rodney pocked at it uselessly for about thirtys seconds then nearly smacked himself in the head. He paused and waited to see if he heard anything, but heard nothing. He pulled out his Lock-Release Gun and put it to work. The lock opened.

Rodney opened the door carefully, hoping to minimize the noise of the hinges. He poked his head in and listened for any sound with his enhanced senses. Again, nothing, so he began to slide in and take a more thorough look around.

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The doors were old wood and swung out rather than a more modern steel overhead door. Rodney had barely opened the door a foot when he was overcome by the full force of the stench that had permeated the area. He was barely able to keep his stomach from heaving its contents, the odor was truly unbearable. He forced the door open a littler further and stuck his head inside, attempting to hold his breath or breathe through his mouth. It was difficult, holding onto the other door with his wing arms and his legs.

The interior was, as expected, dark with only thin slivers of light sliding in past the boarded over windows, and through cracks in the walls. He moved his flashlight to his free hand and flipped it on, waving it around the interior. The left side was a sort of dock that was half collapsed into the water. At the rear the nose of a ruined boat protruded from the water. The place was a mess, scraps of rotting flesh and bone lay scattered about the building, the walls were covered in splatters and sprays of rusty dried blood. It was a slaughter house. Gulping Rodney was glad to see that whatever occupied this building wasn't home.

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Rodney used his cellphone to capture some of the worse excesses of the place. By the time he was finished, he had a plan. Backing back out of the place, he snuck back out the carnel house and searched out the nearest pay phone. He called the precinct and asked for Detective Giodorino ... and waited.

When he got the phone, he spilled his guts, sort of. He claimed to be a drug user who had broken into an abandoned boat house on the river. Instead of finding a drug stash, he had discovered a slaughter house.

How had he known to call the Detective? He had seen him on the docks a few weeks ago and he seemed important.

No, he could not stick around, but felt he had to report the horror he had seen to someone ... and he was gone.

Hopefully he would have done some good. Rodney hid on a rooftop within sight of the building waiting for the cops to arrive.

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While the days lately had been warmer than normal the evenings were still quite cool and being right on the water made them even cool. Rodney wished he had an extra poncho, or that he could wear anything with sleeves. Fifteen minutes of waiting before a battered unmarked police car pulled to a stop nearby. Jenkins got out of the driver's side and Giodorni pulled his fat ass out of the passenger seat. Rodney could almost imagine the care sighing with relief as the large man's weight was removed. Jenkins had his pistol drawn and kept to at his side down the length of his leg, his finger off the trigger resting along the guard. The two approached the building but found the doors and windows boarded over.

"The guy who called in said he broke in, but I'll be damned if I see where." Al, grunted and tried to pry the boards off the front door as Jenkins moved down a nearby dock.

"Al, I ... your junkie must be addicted to sailing, looks like he broke in through the boat access." Jenkins waved his flashlight toward the doors and then onto the water. The dark water was broken momentarily by something dark that slipped beneath the surface as it headed toward the boat garage. "Jesus, what the hell." Jenkins raised his weapon as he began to back down the dock toward the street.

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He wanted to call out, but didn't dare. Instead he glided down to the top of the boat house, hovering momentarily to make sure the roof could support his weight. He readied his 'bashing stick', missing his old pistol the police had confiscated in his home.

He stood ready to reveal himself if it became necessary to save the officers. Maybe it was time for Raph's training to be put to good use.

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Jenkins backed out onto the street, "Al, I think we better get some backup here, I got a bad feeling, saw something in the water. Maybe animal control too."

Wheezing Al replied, "Yeah, good idea ... need a crowbar to get this door open anyways." The fat detective waddled back to the car, and called it in, request for back up with animal control. Suspected crocodile in the East River. "You think maybe it got out from the zoo or something?"

"Better story that flushed down the shitter. Oh man what is that smell. You smell that right?" The other man nodded, "I don't think this is going to be a good night Al, I got a bad feeling."

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Rodney wanted to do something, but already his plan was in motion and working. He would wait on the top of the house until help arrived, just in case the detectives got curious. Beyond that, all he could really do was risk discovery and throw everyone off the scent.

All he had to do was be patient. Too bad he wasn't good at patient.

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The NYPD was notorious for some of the worst reaction times in the country. The police force was over budget, under staffed, and in a city which had all but gone down the tubes in the past twenty years the jaded officers just seldom were willing to put themselves into harms way for the ungrateful citizens of the city. Oftentimes they would show up and wait until gang violence ended before taking graft from the victors. All in all this meant that it took a while before a squad car and an animal control officer would show up. Rodney was getting cold and bored crouching low on the roof. His legs were cramping as well but not enough to break his attention. Which was good because while he never heard a damn thing from inside the boat garage less than ten minutes later he spied a dark form beneath the water exit from the building and begin to swim upstream.

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Stealthfully, the Bat took off from the roof and gained some altitude while trying to keep track of the dark shadow in the water. If he could track it down to an alternate lair ... and get the gang to check it out (the cops had done enough), he could be one step closer to understanding what had happened to his Father.

Maybe Vengeance would be had too, but right now he wanted answers.

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Rodney flew on silent wings. He was glad that the city streets were so much warmer than the water as they provided thermal that he could use to gain elevation at a minimum of effort. He was able to follow the creature, whatever it was, a couple miles up the river to Locust Point. The old maritime college was located at the end of the peninsula and had been shut down and closed off to the public for years now. He saw thing disappear under one of the rotting piers near the school. He circled the area but if the creature got out of the water Rodney missed it. Still he had a good idea where to start looking.

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The mutated Bat flew rapidly back down the island toward Rapheal and his underground lair. The cool night air was a constant reminder of the colder waters inwhich his quarry had taken refuge. The old maritime college ... hopefully it was inside. He and the others could corner it, take it down, and turn it over to the authorities. His father would have justice.

Of course, maybe the others wouldn't see it that way. They might not want to keep it, and themselves, out of prying eyes. Rodney couldn't let that happen. Either they brought the creature to justice, or they let the police do it. There was no way he would tolerate allowing this ... thing, murder, monster another moment of free air. It had to be taken down.

Rodney grew close. He snuggled down a storm drain, around some pipes, and into the forgotten part of the subterranean world. He came rushing into the Turtle kingdom almost out of breath.

"I found it," he annouced.

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