Chapter Text
The red string is drawn across the face of the villainess in the photo she holds in her hand. It stands out like blood in the snow, the thread of garnet against her pale skin. The stretch of string rests under her eye, the wing of a cat decorating the iris. It looks beautiful. She looks beautiful. Hideously beautiful. It’s horrific, she decides.
If anything, it’s just another piece of evidence for her board. She grabs a pushpin from the box, making sure not to get herself stabbed in the process. The photo goes underneath a headshot of Bonnie, one of those pesky criminals that broke out of Night Swan’s prison a couple of months back, all thanks to a certain someone.
She can hear the rumbling of a motorcycle outside the apartment, slowing to a stop. As she approaches the window, she can see her roommate getting off her bike, taking off her helmet, and undoing her bun. A car speeds by next to her, just a bit too close to the curb for comfort.
“Fuck off, asshole!” the biker shouts as the anonymous driver dashes off.
Iris rolls her eyes. Speeding drivers, criminals, scoundrels, and the like were common in the grimier areas of Dancity. It was something she was used to, especially as one of the most well-known detectives in the area. Her hand rests on the windowsill as she leans over, just for a small mental break. She could never afford an actual break, she tells herself, so small rests like this one were sufficient enough.
This isn’t right. Something’s wrong.
It’s an instinct to detect a small change. She’s always been able to pick up on it. It’s the window, she notices. It’s unlocked. Almost immediately, her face twists into a scowl. Iris always leaves her windows locked, and this could only mean one thing. She grabs the blacklight on her desk, flicking the switch on.
Her cabinets are covered in neon doodles. One depicts herself knocked out with the proud villainess standing over her. There are stars, radioactive symbols, and scrawls of scratchy handwriting. In the center of it all lies “LOOK AT THE EVIDENCE” in a vibrant yellow.
“...Are you kidding me?” Iris mutters, not one bit amused by the stunt. It’s a childish prank that she doesn’t have time for. She puts the blacklight back on the desk, sits down, and opens her laptop to search for a newer, high-quality window lock.
Amongst the keyboard clicks, the sound of a creaking door rings out. “Hey, Iris-”
“Florence, will this be quick?” she asks. “I’m busy right now.”
“Yeah, whatever,” the other mutters. She’s used to the snappy attitude Iris has whenever she’s frustrated. “There was a package in the mail for you.”
The clicking stops. “A package?” Iris turns to meet Florence, who holds a small box in her hand. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Well, that didn’t stop this from arriving for you, did it?” Florence holds up a small box, roughly the size of one that would have some superhero figure inside, and places it on the desk. Sure enough, her name and address are printed on top. No return address, however. That makes her skeptical.
She’s too transfixed on the mystery package to notice Florence leaving the room. The top is taped down with tape placed too neatly and vertically for her to admire. Iris slices the tape apart with a pocket knife, removing the top to find what was probably the last thing she expected.
“Is this… a bath bomb?”
She looks at a pink, sand-like sphere. Who would leave her this? Why would they leave her this? A late birthday gift? Her birthday was last month, so it was plausible, but that leaves the question of who. Who in the world would leave her a bath bomb with no return address?
Iris holds the box in her right hand and the bath bomb in her left, and to her surprise, it’s warm. Not even warm, hot. It’s enough to make her drop it back into the box.
It starts to fizz, dryly.
She throws it across the room, then ducks behind her desk. She can hear the sizzle. The bath bomb burnt off just threads of her gloves, bleeding through to reveal the tips of her fingers. She receives sound, but waits for action. Nothing happens until a light haze fills the air. Her heart drops with relief when she realizes it’s only smoke.
Harmless smoke as part of a harmless joke. All of these pranks are starting to get on her nerves.
The detective walks across the room to find the remains of the smoke bomb fizzing away and a folded-up piece of paper in the middle of it all. She unfolds it, and it doesn’t take much for her to realize it’s a letter.
Hey there, Pixie!
Her grip tightens. The paper crinkles. She knows exactly who this is from.
You really need to redecorate this place, it’s soooo boring! I hope you like my doodles, I figured they would give you the artistic inspiration to liven up the place! Anyways, I’ve grown terribly bored, and decided to give you the opportunity to exercise your body and mind! Solve three riddles to earn a prize! Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Here’s your first clue…
Streetfighters, marauders, and sportsters, gather around!
A place with cutting-edge fashion where tigers roar.
The cheers, the excitement, hear that sound!
You’ll have to make a bet if you want to learn more.
I’ll be waiting for you at the end. :)
A scavenger hunt?
Is everything just a game to her?
Iris scans over the letter a couple more times, looking over each word of the riddle carefully. Streetfighters, marauders, sportsters, tigers… those are all names of motorcycles, something she only through her roommate, who would frequently race other bikers while others bet on them. Fashion was what threw her off a bit. Sure, Dancity was a fashionable place, but from what she knew, Florence was one of the few people who wore flashy, cutting-edge outfits during these events.
Why is she even thinking about this? It’s a waste of time, and they both know it. This mastermind wants to get a reaction out of her, push her buttons. Still, she says she’ll be there at the end, waiting for her, and Iris can’t deny that the offer is tempting. This could be a chance to arrest her and get her off the streets for good, but what if it’s just a lie? As much as she hated this, hated her, this was an opportunity that she couldn’t pass up.
The riddle leaves one idea for her to go off of. Melody Warehouse.
꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂
One car ride through the streets of Dancity later, Iris pulls into the driveway of the warehouse-turned-racetrack. She closes the car door, heading into the building. Dim spotlights give the area a bit of light, and she can see the yellow dashes of road outlines on the ground.
“Hello?” Iris calls out. “Is anyone there?”
Another flash of light answers her. One spotlight, brighter than the rest, shines on the second level of the arena, where the betters and onlookers would normally stand. Underneath the beacon of luminosity sits a table with another piece of paper. It seems easy enough, but there has to be some twist here. Nevertheless, she heads up the stairs. The table lies in the middle of the bridge. It’s simple. Too simple.
All spotlights turn off except for the one on the table. A sharp line of scarlet appears in the air. And another. And then another.
Yup. There it is.
Lasers. Of course. It wouldn’t be a walk in the park getting this next clue. She had installed lasers into the security just to make Iris’ life more difficult.
She steps over the first one, and ducks under the second. The third one moves upright as she moves forward, dodging what could have been a fatal end. The lasers rise, then cross over each other. Their movements at first are unpredictable, nearly turning Iris into a pretzel, but she catches onto the pattern soon enough. Just as she reaches the table, the lasers zip behind her one last time.
RIP!
The lasers turn off completely. A stitch of ochre falls onto the steel, and now, there’s a tear in her coat.
“Great,” she huffs, unfolding the next letter.
Hope you didn’t get too chopped up by the light show! If you’re reading this, it means the lasers didn’t tear you to bits! Hoorayyyy!!! Here’s your next clue, Pixie!
Rock on tonight? Don’t tell me twice!
Start a fire with a rose in my hand
Put your heart in the cards, roll the dice
Here’s a hint: rocks don’t refer to a band…
Rock on, but not like a rock band? Please. This one was easier than the first riddle. A rose in hand, cards, and rocks were all neon signs found at the Maneater Club… which was right down the street from her apartment. Iris was made to drive all the way downtown, only to end up back where she started.
Of course she made her do this. It was completely in character.
One more car ride through the streets of Dancity later, Iris parks her car in the parking lot before walking down the street. She ran her fingers over the ripped edge of her coat, feeling the bare fabric through her burnt gloves. Florence knew how to sew; she could probably patch it up.
Iris hasn’t been to the Maneater Club many times. She’s never been one for parties, work kept her busy. She enters through the door, and the building is on fire with dancing and mingling bodies, no surprise there. It’s the exact opposite of the empty warehouse, so there’s not much of a sign to tell her where to go from here. She takes a seat at the bar closest to the door, blazing with neon orange.
“Detective Iris?”
She nearly jolts when the bartender calls her name. “Have you been expecting me?” she asks quizzically.
“Funny you ask. That’s exactly what’s going on here.” The bartender nods. “Some woman arrived here earlier and requested that I serve you a specially prepared drink tonight, free of charge. Paid me a large sum of cash to carry this out, actually. She said that once you consume it, I’d be able to give you a piece of paper.”
“The clue,” Iris realizes. “What’s the drink?”
“Right here.” She ducks out of Iris’ view, returning to place a single shot glass on the counter, filled with a bronzy liquid.
“What is this?”
“She said that it was a fireball shot,” said the bartender. “It doesn’t appear to have been tampered with.”
From what Iris could tell, she was right. The glass was clear, rocks afloat. She knew how to check for tampered drinks, and doubted that she would have been served one, but it was always good to check. Despite the name, fireball wasn’t a spicy drink; it was a cinnamon-flavored whiskey with mere hints of sweetness.
She wasn’t dealing with an easy criminal here, there once again had to be a twist, but on the surface, this looked too easy. So, without a word, Iris downed the shot. She would soon come to regret making that choice.
Whatever was in this currently put the “fire” in fireball. It had a torrid taste, and the texture? The texture was the worst part. It felt like she was at the beach and some kid had dumped wet sand into her drink. That drink went down Iris’ throat, and it took everything in her to not spit it back out again.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” asks the bartender.
“The paper, just give me the fucking paper!” She coughs as she holds her hand out. She’s hunched over the counter, unable to meet the bartender’s eyes when she feels something drop into her hand. With her eyes watering, she quickly unfolds the third paper.
I hope that drink kicked things up a notch! I wish I could say I had some fancy poem for your final riddle, but I don’t. I’m sure you know that I have many wonderful talents and skills, but writing isn’t exactly one of them. Anyways, head up to the roof of the Maneater Club for your prize! :P
Without a word, Iris stumbles through the bar, trying to blink away the scorching pain in her watering eyes. She pushes open the back door, eyeing a ladder in the back alley. One rung after the other, she climbs to the top.
Iris looks out over the Dancity skyline from the flattop. Before she can think about what to do next, she convulses and reals over the edge. She wonders what in the ever-loving universe was that drink as she stands up, backs away from the edge, and wipes the excess from her mouth.
“Wow. You couldn’t stomach that at all, huh?”
Iris doesn’t have time to process, she can only think to spring into action. Grabbing the taser from her back pocket, she turns around, swinging forward, only for her wrist to be grabbed right away. Standing on the other side is the one who’s been haunting her all night.
“I’ll take that.” With a sickly-sweet voice, she grabs the taser, drops it onto the flattop, and stamps it into pieces with her boot.
“You-”
“Hm?” She tilts her head.
Iris catches her tongue, unable to make a motion. She hates that she can’t stop looking into her eyes, mesmerizing in the most awful way. Iris had come close to catching this criminal many times, but she would always run away right before she got the chance to strike.
They’ve never been this close.
“Hello?” The vandal waves in front of her face. “Earth to Pixie- WOAH-!”
The villainess dodges a punch from the detective, then elbows her in the gut. Iris is bent over for just enough time for her pocket to be picked swiftly. She’s knocked to the ground, feeling a cold metal clamp around her wrist. Before she knows it, she’s handcuffed to the railing of the fire escape, and laughter rings in her ears.
“Seriously? That was easy! Wow!” She looks shocked at how easily this victory came to her. She grins, bending down and resting her arms across her knees. “So, what’s up?”
“...What’s up?” Iris repeats. “Y-You called me here!”
“So?”
“So, I should be the one asking questions.”
“Ah-ah-ah.” She waves a finger. “Madison Mayhem doesn’t do questions.”
“Just stop it, Eva.”
With that name, she stops. Her face twists again, this time with fascinated delight. “Oh? So you know who I really am?”
Iris doesn’t answer, only giving her a prideful glare that screams “of course I do.”
“Well, isn’t that just darling?”
“Why am I here?” Iris asks.
“Simple.” She shrugs. “I got bored.”
“You… you put me through all of that because you were bored?!” The detective’s eyebrows narrow.
“I don’t know how else to explain it to you, Pixie.” She rolls her eyes, standing up again. “Do you need me to repeat myself?”
Iris’ voice raises. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through tonight?”
“Well, duh, I planned the whole scavenger hunt,” Eva mutters an obvious answer.
Iris doesn’t let her own stupid question deter her. “First, you vandalize my office-”
“I made it prettier! It’s so dull there!”
“Next, you scare me by delivering me a fake bomb-”
“I thought you would find that funny. Guess not.”
“Then, you make me go through a laser course that makes me rip my coat-”
“Just get another one.”
“And then, you make me drink some fireball shot straight from Hell-”
“Oh, the fireball! I made sure to put lots of extra cinnamon in that for you-”
“That was ACTUAL CINNAMON?!”
“What did you think it was?”
“Fuck you!” Iris spits, her free hand flying around her waistband. “Once I get out of here, I’m going to have you arrested-”
“If you get out of here.”
There’s a small jingle. Iris looks up. Of course she swiped the fucking keys.
“Relax, I’ll let you out eventually. I’m no monster,” she says as she pockets them quickly. “And having me arrested? Come on, we both know you would never do that.”
Iris sighs and repeats her question. “Why am I here, Eva?”
“I told you, I was bored!” Eva’s heels tap against the floor as she walks around her, leaning against the stair railing. “Besides, we might as well get to know each other while you’re here. Or, you can learn about me, per se.”
The detective turns her head and looks up. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you want to know about me, don’t you?” asks Eva. “I already know enough about you, so I’m satisfied.”
“You know nothing about me.” She hisses, looking back to the ground.
There’s a tense silence between the two. Eva clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“You have a younger brother.”
Eva can tell by the expression Iris gives her that she’s made the other’s blood run cold. She relishes the reaction with a smirk.
“Yeah, see? You’re not the only smart one here.” She cocks her head to the side. “He goes to Dancity University, he’s studying mechanical engineering. Sound familiar?”
Iris tugs at the handcuffs during a failed attempt to stand up. “I swear to Selios, if you do anything to him-”
“Relax, Pixie! I would never!” Eva throws her hands up, and then she continues. “You only like your coffee black, which I personally think is insane. You rarely give yourself time to relax, but when you do, it’s usually by watching a trashy reality show that your roommate turned on. You try to play video games, but they frustrate you too much to properly enjoy them. And I know why you’re after me.”
“How do you-”
“Let me be more specific.” She kneels again, tiling Iris’ head towards her by grabbing her chin, making sure the attention is on her. “I don’t know why you’re after me specifically, but I know you’re in this line of work after crossing paths with someone just like me.”
Without a word, Iris uses her free hand to grab Eva’s wrist and force her off. The other only chuckles, turning away and going back to leaning against the railing. Iris’ shocked silence makes for a peaceful atmosphere. She rolls her head to the side, stretching the muscles in her neck.
“Beautiful night tonight, huh?” Eva mutters. No response from the detective. She speaks a bit louder this time. “Hey, Pixie. Did you hear me? I said…”
The starlet’s voice trails off elsewhere when she tilts her head down to speak to the detective. The silence lingers for too long of a moment.
“Are you… crying?”
Iris turns her head away before Eva can get a closer look, but the other is quick to take a seat next to her.
“You’re quiet when you cry,” she observes. Iris can’t tell if she’s mocking her, intrigued by her, sympathizing with her, or if it’s a twisted mix of all three.
“...What’s wrong with me?” she grumbles, wiping away spare tears with her free hand.
“Hm?”
“I followed you with a taser and a pair of handcuffs and I thought that would be enough to finally end this,” says Iris. “I went in headfirst without knowing what I would get myself into, and now I’m fucking stuck here with you.”
“Ouch,” Eva says dryly, feigning hurt feelings.
“I’m forced to sit here while you belittle me and remind me of how shit I am at all of this.” Her voice cracks mid-sentence.
“Oh, please, Pixie. You know you’re not a shit detective just because I outsmarted you once, right? If anything, you’re better than that bartender downstairs. I mean, taking a cryptic drink from a stranger? What was she thinking?” The blonde chuckles. “Someone’s getting fired.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“I don’t get what?” she asks. By the tone in her voice, Iris can tell that she sees this as a challenge, a game. She sees everything as some sort of championship. The detective sighs deeply.
“I’ve spent so much time trying to track you down and fit the pieces together. Interviews, newspapers, security camera footage…”
“Come on, get to the point. Spit it out.” Eva rolls her wrist in a circle, encouraging her to wrap it up.
Iris stops. She’s not sure how to say this. She doesn’t know how to tell Eva that she’s looked at her face so many times, she could probably draw it from memory. Eva has pissed her off too many times to count, but at the same time, each clue she taunts her with leads her one step closer. She doesn’t want to be in this situation, but she can’t deny that the thrill of the chase enthralls her, unlike any other case she’s handled before.
She doesn’t want this to end, she realizes.
BOOM!
Iris flinches, eyes darting up at the sudden calamity. A firework explodes in the sky, sparking above the tall buildings of Dancity.
“Wow! Would you look at that?” Eva turns to watch the spectacle as well.
As several more fireworks explode in the air, Iris stays in place, transfixed and terrified. Not wanting the chase to end would mean not arresting Eva, and letting her get away, letting her cause chaos and disorder around Dancity. Was that really what she wanted?
“You were saying something?” asks Eva.
“…It’s nothing,” Iris decides.
“Oh, it’s something.”
“I said it’s nothing.”
“Whatever you say, Pixie.”
Eva rolls her eyes, watching each firework go off. For once, she looks calm, but not the calculated kind of calm that Iris often saw from her. She looked relaxed to a nearly uncanny degree.
“Don’t let yourself down too much. You make things a bigger deal than they need to be,” Eva says softly.
“Why are you saying this?” Iris interrogates.
“I wouldn’t say it to just anyone. I actually have the guts to admit that you intrigue me.” She shrugs smugly. “From the first time I saw you with that stupid haircut, I knew this would be a fun chase. I’ve never let anyone else get this close, you know. People have tried… but they weren’t as successful.”
“And what happened to them?” She continues.
Eva deadpans. “I killed them.”
Iris blinks, unsure if she heard correctly. Eva watches for her reaction, and then, she breaks into a snicker. Her shoulders scrunch up as she looks to the side. It’s not what her laugh usually sounds like, Iris notices. It’s not the chaotic, mocking sound she knows. It’s calm, but rough, like rocks rolling up to the ocean shore. This isn’t Madison. This is Eva.
“You really are gullible, huh?” She grins.
“Shut up. I didn’t believe you.” Iris shakes her head.
“You did, though. You did for just a second. I saw it in your eyes,” persists Eva.
“Whatever,” the other mutters.
Eva tilts her head up to watch the last fireworks go off. Light tinted with watermelon pink shines down, gleaming across her collarbone as the sparks fade out into the night. She looks breathtaking, and Iris hates herself for admitting it.
“I can assure you, if you weren’t such a fascinating flower, I wouldn’t be sitting here,” she says in a light murmur.
Iris pauses before she asks her next question, not meeting her eyes. “Why? What makes you go after me specifically?”
When she turns to seek an answer, Madison Mayhem is gone. In her place on the roof is a thin, black key.
꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂
When Iris finally arrives back at her apartment after freeing herself from her own handcuffs, she’s greeted with the overwhelming smell of popcorn. She should get something to eat, she thinks. All of this running around has left her unable to focus on properly taking care of herself tonight.
Florence leans against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed. “What’s up?”
Iris doesn’t answer, her only focus is finding something to eat. The smell of popcorn grows stronger as the microwave buzzes.
“You had something else arrive for you in the mail while you were gone, by the way. I put it on your desk,” Florence tells her as Iris rummages through the fridge. “It looked like the other box that arrived for you earlier.”
Suddenly, Iris has something more important to focus on. She grabs the first thing she sees and slams the refrigerator door shut, beelining towards her office. Once she opens the door, she looks down at her right hand to see what she managed to grab, a bag of flour tortillas. Whatever. Food was food, and there were more pressing matters at the moment.
She sits down at her desk, and sure enough, a package just like the first one sits on the surface. This one looks much smaller, and instead of being sealed with tape, a thick, rose-colored ribbon is neatly wrapped around the box. Iris takes a quick bite of the tortilla, ripping through it with her teeth before she undoes the ribbon. The first thing she sees is a familiar piece of paper, neatly folded on top of the contents of the box.
Dear Pixie,
You didn’t think I would let you go through all that work without getting a prize, did you? I promise I’m not as cruel as some of the others that crawl around these streets, I at least keep my word! In this box, you’ll find your reward for completing my scavenger hunt! It’s something that I feel represents the fire you have inside you. Also, I definitely did not steal it. That’s just what the government wants you to think!
Have a splendid evening,
Madison Mayhem
Iris looks inside the box to see what had been left for her. Sitting in the center of a small cushion is a silver band. There’s a lily engraved in the center, with detailing so magnificent that it almost makes her nervous.
Iris slips the band onto her ring finger. It fits like a glove.
There’s a small whistle in the air. The window has been left open.
The wind sounds suspiciously like her cackle.