Lock the door and throw away the key (Patreon)

Alright, I am busy writing puppetstuck content, so let's have a look at what is happening with some of the other characters during the start of this path. Surely everything is just business as usual....

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The beauty of expensive restaurants was the amount of privacy you could afford to buy. Sound-dampened booths for business lunches, an assurance that the staff would neither see nor hear anything. It was an occasional thing for Daniel, he rarely had the need of arrangements like this. He usually met Marek in his office, but the man occasionally liked to be treated as an equal. As someone of importance, rather than the seedy documentation and television producer he was. Daniel didn't mind indulging him, but some meetings were better kept away from his usual haunts. 

Haunts. Daniel shook his head. Bad word for a bad week.

Marek had met him outside as always, his best suit barely enough to get through the door. Daniel had dressed conservatively as always, style borrowed from memories of his father rather than his own imagination. Be someone who would go to a place like this. He didn't doubt he'd be let inside in paint-stained jeans and an art-house t-shirt, but he made a point of being someone else today. Impressing Marek, if nothing else.

"First of all, let me thank you for joining me here today." Marek was all smiles as usual, acting as if this was his house, his treat. "And agreeing to pick up the bill," he admitted with a wry smile once the waitress had left with their orders.

"That's not a big thing. You know that. I do it every time." Daniel sipped some water, watching the other man, reading his energy. Jittery as always. Sitting on something. That meant the meeting was about facts rather than funding. Despite himself, he felt a thrill at that. Distraction.

"And I'm grateful," Marek said, folding and refolding the napkin in front of him. A nervous tick. "I feel that's important to say."

"Prefacing what you're going to say next?" Maybe this was about money after all.

"Suspicion, Mr. Sullivan?" Marek gave him a look of shock and horror. "This early in our discussion? I would have thought you knew me better by now."

"I do know you." Daniel cursed inwardly, he was usually better at hiding things. "I've never had anything you might want to use against me."

"Except your wallet," Marek pointed out.

"Except my wallet." 

"That hasn't changed." There was a pause as if Marek wanted to make sure Daniel understood. "I'm not sure why you think I wanted to meet, but I assure you there's nothing sordid about it."

"Oh." A blink of relief. No leaks. Just business as usual. Good. But if it was good, why was part of him disappointed? Did he want to talk about it?

"Now you make me think that maybe there is something sordid I should know about," Marek said, picking up on Daniel's ambivalence. "Come on, my boy, have I done you wrong yet? If there's something you want to share, do."

"Maybe later." Daniel kicked himself as the words slipped out. What was he thinking? Talking to Marek of all people? "You've betrayed friends in the past," he continued, trying to talk himself out of it. "I don't think you'd hesitate to betray me."

"And that's where you're wrong. This is about Ricardo, isn't it?"

"Is that your guilt talking?" It wasn't, but it was a welcome change of subject. "You were friends. You sold the footage of his crash."

"I needed to make rent." The admission came with a shrug as the first course was served, a moment of pensive silence and shallow small talk until the server left and he could continue. "I gave his agent the opportunity to buy it first. She was less than receptive."

"He still didn't appreciate it, I bet." Facts pieced together, one by one. Daniel hadn't pried, but sometimes things slipped up.

"My point is. Friends fall out all the time. Business relationships lasts a long time, and you have never been anything but good business for me Mr. Sullivan." The admission sounded honest, or as honest as Marek ever sounded. There was always an undertone of sleaze in his words, tainted by what Daniel knew about him. "I wouldn't ruin a long-term relationship for short-term profits."

"Unless the money was good enough." 

"It would have to be a lot to counteract losing you. I like you. We share similar interests. You always pay on time. You've stuck your neck out for me." Marek counted the facts on one hand as if they were a ward against whatever suspicions Daniel held.

"Why did you want to meet me?" Daniel signed, looking down at his food. Was he really troubled enough to consider this? Could Marek really help?

"Ah, business first. Of course. Maybe a personal discussion later, then?" A wink.

"Maybe." A noncommittal look.

"There's been another incident." Marek leaned forward now, lowering his voice.

"An altar?" Daniel swallowed, food suddenly less important than facts.

"Yeah. If that's what we're calling them now."

"It's as good a thing as any." Altar. Shrine. Better words than the other thing that came to mind. A ward. A warning. "Where?" 

"Two blocks away from the last one."

"Same configuration?"

"Yes." Marek grimaced, unusually subdued. "The door was sealed, the lock fused shut, chains from the handle to a nearby lamp post. That's why it was spotted so fast."

"But the door opens outwards, right?" Same as the last one then, this wasn't good. Two were a line, three were a pattern.

"Like any other apartment building, yeah. Wait, I have some pictures here." Marek fumbled in his pocket, producing an envelope he slid over to Daniel. It held a series of Polaroid photos. 

"The building is deserted I suppose." Daniel leafed them through, one after the other. Similar yet different. The chain made him feel sick. New. It looked new. 

"Yes, on the edge of the zone, uninhabited, like the others. There might have been squatters around, but the windows were broken so they could get in and out anyway. Blocking the door does nothing. Look at the eyes."

"I see them." Drawn on the door in what looked like spray paint. Black and green. Overlapping. Broken layers. "Did someone try to hack them out or was the door already damaged when they were made?"

"No, the damage came after. I don't think the eyes and the chain are from the same individual. The spray paint looked old. The chain didn't. Unless they keep coming back, adding to the scene over a few weeks."

"But if they wanted to block the door from being opened, why didn't they just place something heavy in front of it? If it opens outwards." Daniel said the words even though he suspected he knew the answer.

"It does." Marek's mouth twitched in an uneasy smile. "And yet the chains."

"You're thinking it too, aren't you?" It reminded Daniel of a painting. Symbolism. A ritual. A door barred, making sure nothing could enter. Or exit. Repeated enough times over the last weeks that Marek had noticed. The Heartbreak site was ever-changing, but this was outside the normal parameters. This was new. Paying Marek to have people chart those changes might just have paid off. 

"Yeah," Marek agreed. "Something has changed. For the first time since it happened. Ugh. I wish I could get hold of Bennet. He doesn't answer his phone."

"Want me to check in on him?" Daniel had already thought about contacting the psychic. The medium. Sensitive. Whatever you'd call him.

"I don't know. Part of me wonders if he knows I'll bring this to him. And that he won't be able to say no. The other part wonders if he's just drunk again."

"It's your call." Daniel didn't want to press. He didn't know the man.

"Let me think about it." Marek shook his head. "Now, what was it that was bothering you so much you were worrying that I had heard about it?"

"It's complicated." He didn't want to talk about it. But the pictures in front of him made him wonder if he had a choice. There was a connection there. He knew it.

"Isn't it always. Work or pleasure?" Marek's voice was light, teasing. It hadn't exactly been a secret that he was in love, though Daniel hadn't shared with who.

"Both, I suppose. But not in the way you think." How was he supposed to begin? Maybe at the deep end. This was Marek. "It's... What do you know about possession?"

"That came out of left field." But no shock, just mild curiosity.

"I suppose." Daniel rubbed his face. "You're the one I know who know the most about... weird things. I've already looked through our archives. There's never been many boosts who controlled people like that, and the ones that did... it was all short-ranged. Telepathic or drugs. Manipulating people in the vicinity. More control than possession. Nothing really fitted."

"I'm going to do something unusual and be the voice of rationality." Marek leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Are you sure it's not just a breakdown? Psychosis? Drug use?"

"I suppose I can't be sure." Couldn't be sure of anything but the feeling in the pit of his stomach that screamed WRONG loud enough to make him nauseous. "It's not like you can test for anything like that. What goes on in someone's head is private."

"Unless you're a telepath." A twitch of a smile. 

"Yeah." Did Marek know? Did it matter? "And it's not like there's anybody around that I can ask about that anymore."

"Yeah. That's suspicious too." The missing telepaths had been an option for an episode, but there wasn't enough to go on to make it interesting. And Marek had called it off, the research back in a box until further notice.

"And now Bennet is incommunicado." Daniel sighed. He felt paranoid. Not a good feeling to have.

"He's not a telepath."

"Might be close enough." Daniel wished he had someone to ask. This felt like the beginning of a painting taking shape, but he couldn't see the end results. Just that there was purpose in each brushstroke. "What if this is so much bigger than we thought? What if telepaths are the first ones to feel it? To leave? What if that's why they're gone?"

"Then they would have brought family and friends." Marek shook his head. "I think the answer is both simpler and more sinister. I think someone has a use for them. Or a use for them gone."

"It's just..." he broke off, biting his lip. 

"You need to tell me if you want my advice," Marek pointed out. "And from the look of things you do."

"The reason why I asked about possession is that a person who is very close to me has changed." Such a small innocent word. Daniel wasn't sure how else to phrase it. "Changed in ways that... I don't even know how to describe it without sounding like I am the one having a psychotic break." He shook his head. Bit his lip. Gathered his courage and continued. "I've looked it up. There's this delusion where someone is convinced that a loved one has been replaced by a copy. Or a demon. Or..."

"Calm down. Breathe." Marek looked unmoved by Daniel's shaky voice. "You're here talking about those doubts with me. That doesn't sound like you're delusional."

"I feel it, though. How I don't know how else to explain it. She's different. Her smile. Her eyes." Like something had crawled in there to look at him when he turned his back. The worm in the apple. He felt nauseous. "It's like she has to pause for a fraction a second before coming up with what to say. No emotion there. The pauses at the wrong place. Like a badly briefed actress. Oh Lord, I am sounding delusional. Am I having a breakdown?"

"Don't your job have resources for that?"

"They do. Maybe I should talk to someone. Maybe I would have if it wasn't for..." for the fact that it might ruin his career. That's what it was at the start. But now? It had gone beyond suspicion and into the realm of concrete evidence.

"If you want a contact not connected to your employer, I can help with that."

"Not needed. But thank you." Think rational. Analyze. Daniel could do that. Trust his feelings. "She's been avoiding me. All of us. That's nothing new, but we used to train together. She's called that off now, too. Says she's sprained something. And then I followed her... no, you don't have to say anything." He gave Marek a look; stalking your girlfriend never ended well. "I know what it looks like but that's the thing. I couldn't have. Followed her like that. Not before. She'd know. Immediately. Not now. And she was shopping. She bought... chains." A similar kind to what had been in the picture. 

"Oh." Marek looked down at the photos, now back in their envelope.

"Yeah. And Ricardo called her in for a consultation two weeks ago. With one of his cases. The private ones we're not supposed to know about. Anyway, it was in the hospital. I was there for a checkup and spotted them. Followed." He wouldn't have. In the past. But she walked wrong. How could Ricardo not see it? "I don't know the details. There was a commotion, and later my friend went into the bathroom. She came out ten minutes or so later. Nothing strange. She and Ricardo left, and I got ready to follow when I heard a scream. From that bathroom."

"Go on." Marek was all ears now, that look on his face that meant he was taking notes.

"I went in, and... well. Here. I took pictures." Daniel opened up his phone, the latest model. With a camera. A sponsorship. A blatant thumb in the eye of the privacy laws, making electronic photography available to the masses. Not his wisest sponsorship, but he had agreed regardless. He opened up the gallery, handing it to Marek.

"Oh." An appreciative sound as he weighed the phone in his hand, then looked down at the pictures. His face darkened immediately as he held it up, eyeing the small screen with a squint. "Yeah. That's not good."

"You see the eyes, right?" Daniel watched Marek's face as he figured out how to zoom in. 

"Hard to miss. Is that blood?"

"Oh the broken mirror? Yes. But the eyes are drawn in lipstick. There were some in soap too, but they didn't show up very good on the pictures." The reflections had made everything harder. "I made sure it was all cleaned up and that the staff would keep quiet. I can't let Ricardo know."

"Does she have any connection to the site?" Marek mutely handed the phone back.

"Yes." Daniel was proud that he didn't twitch.

"And you're not going to tell me about it."

"She had friends that died there. That's enough you need to know right now."

"Shit." Marek shook his head.

"Yeah. Have you heard of other people doing things like this?" Maybe this was a widespread thing. Not an issue with her, but with everyone connected to Heartbreak. Would that be better or worse?

"Outside the Zone? No. But this is Los Diablos. Things like that might be overlooked. Maybe that's how it starts. The degradation. And then they go to the site and..."

"She's not going to jump," Daniel interrupted, voice hard. "She wouldn't. She hates heights."

"I'm not saying she will." Marek held up his hands. "I'm just saying that maybe you're not the one being delusional. Unless it's to the point of faking this whole thing."

"I'm not. Trust me, at this point I wish I was."

"I believe you." Marek rubbed his chin, that familiar look when he decided what to pursue next. Except this was not something that could be aired. "What do you need from me?"

"First, if you had heard of this happening to others. Which I suppose is a no." Daniel ran both hands through his hair, not caring whether he ruined his carefully careless hair or not. "Second, I wanted to talk to Bennet."

"Who doesn't want to talk to us. No wonder you were eager to go look for him. You could have led with this, you know?"

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell you everything," Daniel admitted. "But I needed to tell someone. And it was too personal with Ricardo."

"He's impulsive. Always was."

"Did you ever find any clues about where Locus might have disappeared to? I know you decided to scrap the telepath episode, but I know you did some research."

"Facts? No. Clues?" There was a moment of hesitation. "Yes."

"Then tell me. I'll pay you." Daniel put all his authority in the look he gave Marek. At this point he had two options. Either bring Ricardo in and try to explain the fact that his ex-girlfriend might be possessed or find a telepath that had been wanted for questioning since the attack on Lady Argent. Who had also been possessed. There was a connection there; he was sure of it. All he had to do was find it.