this sort of story is so not my thing
Apr. 6th, 2008 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrBut, lo, I started writing it and now I'm seven pages in -__- Dear brain, hate you. Megan.
Warning you now, this really is not typically my thing. I'm not even sure where it came from, honestly. Well, I could probably sort it out, but really who cares? ^^; This and that annoyed me, I'm sure, and lo. But, it could very well suck, I warn you now.
Also, part one is not complete. It's just as far as I'm getting tonight.
*edit* A/N: Because it's kind of a random name, I thought for once I'd comment on how to say it. Anxo is pronounced AN-shaw. ^^;
I. Vampires
Anxo slammed his fist down on the desk, somewhat mollified when all the students snapped to it. "That's more like it," he snapped, not bothering to tamp down on his irritation. "I gave you a stupid easy assignment. Fifth graders could have done this assignment better than any of you managed. Let me remind you of something. This school costs about 75,000 marks to attend – per semester. This class costs 1000 marks. Ever last one of you just paid me 1000 marks to sit there on your spoiled brat asses and do nothing. Congratulations, you're the pride and joy of our modern society."
"Hey—"
"Shut up," Anxo said, voice a bit more pleasant now that he'd gotten that out of his system. "Just shut up, or I will mark you down as failing my class. Now, let's try this again. This is Intro Magic, so one of the most important things you need to learn is how humans came to possess what is popularly referred to as magic. Mr. Carlton," he said, smiling at the man he'd told to shut up. "You seem talkative today, tell us why we now have magic."
Mr. Carlton looked as though he'd swallowed something sour. "Because roughly one hundred years ago half the population was wiped out by the NB Plague."
"And?" Anxo said.
"And the cure given to the other half did some really weird shit to a lot of the survivors and ever since then we've had freaks walking among us."
"Watch your mouth," Anxo said coldly. "The halls of academia are not the place for racism. And you are incorrect by about fifty years – the NB Plague struck the one hundred and forty seven years ago. The emergence of magic was an unexpected side effect to the drug administered hastily to the surviving masses. Extensive studies continue to this day, but no one as yet has determined what precisely the NB cure did to wake magic in what today is roughly 35% of the population."
A young woman raised her hand. "Professor, you say wake magic My dad always said it was a disease in and of itself."
Anxo nodded. "Yes, the field of magic is divided roughly into two schools of thought on the matter – there are some who think the drug simply created a new problem which has since taken genetic hold, and the other half believe the drug merely woke latent abilities that long lay dormant. We will study both hypotheses throughout the semester." He pointed to another student who raised his hand.
"Are we going to study Vampires too?"
"Not if I hear that term again," Anxo said. "If I hear one more racial slur in my class, I will start automatically failing the transgressors. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Professor," the students recited dutifully.
"So are we?" the student asked.
Anxo pushed his glasses up his nose. "There is much to study in the field of magic," he said slowly, "and the subject of Absorbers is highly controversial. They are still very much a mystery. But, if you all work hard and we cover all that is on the syllabus, then yes, we will touch upon the subject of Absorbers."
At that the students sprang into a buzz of conversation, voices alternately hushed and overloud.
"So what else can everyone tell me about magic and magic users?"
"It tends to run in families," another woman said. "It's rare for a Natural or an Absorber to show up in Cave—I mean in Free families."
"Yes," Anxo replied. "That is correct. What else can you tell me? So far the morning class is making you lot look pathetic."
Four hands shot up. He pointed to the farthest. "Magic tends to show up with puberty."
"Correct," Anxo said. "I would hope by this point you would all know at least that." He pointed to another raised hand.
The young man had restless hands, playing with his pencil, his notebook. Anxo bet his notes were more doodles than anything. "Magic type tends to run in the family as well. You're not likely to get a pyro – oh crap is that racist? – in a family of lightning bugs. Aw, crap, that was racist too."
Anxo's mouth quirked in a smile. "Pyro and lightning bug are obnoxious, but I would not call them racist. However, you may want to speak with persons who have those abilities. And yes, you are correct. I'm glad to see my class knows the basics. However, there is one exception to the general rule that magic and type of magic runs in the family. Does anyone know that exception?"
"Telepathy," said a deep, easy voice from behind Anxo.
He turned sharply on his heel, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he glared at the intruder. Intruders, actually. Two men stood in the doorway. The students immediately broke into not so furtive whispers, pointing and gesturing. "May I help you?" he asked politely, for the sake of the students.
It would be poor form indeed to act flippantly in front of two officers from the Department of Magic Regulation and Protection. They both wore black suits of excellent quality. The man on the right, slightly taller than his partner, wore a pale blue tie that matched his eyes and enhanced the blue-black of his hair. His partner wore a deep red vest beneath his blaze, with a tie of red and black stripes. The severe colors brought out the gold in his blonde curls, but otherwise made him look the harder of the two, despite the smile on his face.
Deceptive appearances, largely. Neither man could be bothered to be serious for more than ten minutes at a stretch, fifteen if they were exhausted.
The dark haired man had been the one to speak. "Telepathy," he repeated, a smirk on his pale, pretty mouth. "There are only a dozen telepaths in the world, and they were born to families with a wide range of magical talents, none of which were even remotely close to telepathy."
"Yes," Anxo replied. "No one is quite sure why that is, but," he turned to the class. "That is something we will be discussing at a later date. Your homework is to read what's on the syllabus, and be prepared to discuss it at length. Class dismissed."
He waited until every last student was gone, then waited a few minutes more to ensure no one was coming back, then strode across the room and locked the door. "What do you want?" he asked.
The blonde man strode to the rows of seats and collapsed into one. "Christ, it feels good to sit down. Fuck me, my feet hurt."
"Long day?" Anxo asked.
"Yes," said the dark haired man. "Hector and I have been up since midnight, wearing out our damned shoes."
Anxo quirked a brow at them. "You look awfully nice and tidy for a couple of guys working the streets all night."
Hector snickered. "Jordi threw a temper tantrum at HQ. We were thrown out with strict orders to get cleaned up, get fed, and get you – in that order, more or less."
"Me, huh?" Anxo said, moving to pack up his things at the desk. "I rather figured it wasn't a social call. You two never pay social calls. I'm not sure you know how."
"Social call implies we have the time to socialize, which we don't. Fucking HQ likes to work us to death," Hector said. "Speaking of which, we should get back to work. Come along, Professor Pretty."
Anxo glared. "I have told you to stop calling me that."
"Yeah, well, HQ keeps telling me to watch my mouth. If I don't listen to them, I'm not going to listen to you."
Rolling his eyes, Anxo slung his bag over his shoulder and looked at them. "So my office, or are we going home?"
Jordi motioned vaguely in the air. "We've got shit for you to look over."
"Home, then," Anxo replied. "Better not to look at that shit on work issue equipment, and I didn't bring my personal stuff with me today. I hope you drove, cause otherwise you're taking the subway with me."
"We brought a car," Hector replied. "You should stop being cheap and get a vehicle, professor. I know you make enough money to afford a good model."
Anxo rolled his eyes. "I like my legs enough to use them frequently."
"I like your legs too," Jordi replied. "I'm happy to—"
"Shut up," Anxo said.
"Disrespecting an officer, tsk, tsk," Jordi said.
Hector shook his head, heaving a long sigh. "It's a sad day when a civilian won't respect his betters, I tell you."
Anxo groaned. "Who did I piss off to get stuck with the two of you all day?"
"I dunno," Jordi replied. "Probably the same fucker whose had us awake since midnight. I'm telling you, man, being law abiding doesn't pay. Criminals commit their crimes and go to bed, it's our asses that have to stay up at all hours to go track down their asses."
Nodding absently, Anxo slid into the backseat of their car, sighing softly. "At least you jerks came at the end of my last class. I hate when you force me to cancel and reschedule shit."
"Hey, we try to get the lawbreakers to be more accommodating. You know how it is though," Jordi said. "For some weird reason, they only care about getting the blood to where it needs to be according to their convenience, not ours."
"Bastards," Hector inserted.
"Blood?" Anxo echoed quietly. Of course it would be blood. There was very little other reason the DMRP would bring him in to assist on a case.
"Yeah," Hector said, the humor fading from his voice. "We were called in to the scene of a triple homicide. From the looks of it, a blood trade went bad in a hurry. We think we've got the providers, but no sign of the buyers – or the blood."
Anxo nodded. Typical. It was hardly the first time blood buyers had decided they wanted the blood and their money – but it was a stupid thing to do, because now they were wanted for three murders. "I'm guessing the deal didn't go according to double crossing plan?"
"That's what it looks like," Jordi said. "I’m sure it's an open and shut, but it's weird enough HQ thought it best to bring in a consultant."
Stifling a sigh, Anxo relaxed in his seat and let the ride continue in silence. It was weird. Blood deals were difficult and dangerous enough without adding a complication like homicide to the mix It made a lot more sense just to pay the damn money, take the blood, and go home. Hell, the price would get tripled on the street, there was no point in killing the providers – especially since reputable sellers were hard to come by.
It wasn't the first time a blood deal had ended in a blood bath, but it was infrequent enough that yeah, HQ was wise to bring in a consultant.
He thought idly that he should have asked his students if they knew what percentage of the world was Absorbers. Just 17 % -- not a small chunk, but not a big chunk either. That left 35% of the population to Naturals, and the remaining 48 % were all Clean – no trace of magical ability.
"So, consultant," Jordi said, breaking the long silence. "Have you heard anything lately?"
"Not really," Anxo said. "To be honest, it's been really fucking quiet. I was just starting to think it's been too quiet. Another day or so and I would have been calling you. Sometimes, it's just hard to tell."
They both made noises of agreement.
"We haven't learned much," Hector said. "That's most of our frustration. A blood deal gone bad, no trace of blood or money, and way too many false leads on what blood is entering and leaving the city. Days like this, man, I wished we live in happy suburbia land."
Jordi snorted. "Yeah, right. You'd last five fucking minutes before the Purists had you running screaming back to us for a bit of depravity and fun."
"Whatever you say, magic boy," Hector retorted with a grin.
Anxo rolled his eyes at them again, but really it was just for form's sake. So long as he never had to admit it, he was perfectly okay with admitting he liked working with them – spending any time with them. He spent all fucking day teaching magic to those who didn't have it, or wouldn't admit they could have it, hearing one slur after another cast down, only to go home to listen to yet more hatred most Clean felt for the Natural, and the abject fear and loathing both held for Absorbers.
Sitting here, listening to Hector and Jordi banter…it was such a sappy campaign waiting to happen, but that didn’t' lessen the truth of it. DMRP law said that officers must work in pairs, and that each pair must contain one Natural and one Clean.
He'd seen more than a few people struggle to figure out which was which between Hector and Jordi. They worked hard to make it impossible, forcing people to treat them the same for as long as possible. Outside of the Department, only a precious few probably knew that Jordi was the Natural, and Hector the Clean.
More than once he'd found himself wishing people would take a lesson, that everyone would just learn to get along the same fucking way as Hector and Jordi, but he hated sounding that way even in his own head. If there was one thing he knew, it was that people didn't change – they just shifted their focus. Once they got tired of hating one thing, they'd start hating another.
Unfortunately, he thought it would be a long, long time before the hatred over magic shifted to something else. It was just too easy for the Clean to hate the Natural and vice versa…and he preferred not to think about Absorbers.
"I think I need a vacation," he said aloud.
"School's barely started," Hector said. "You're fucked. What did you do all summer, man? Work? We've warned you about that."
"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?" Anxo asked. "It's hard to have a social life when you're a consultant and a professor."
"Hey," Jordi said. "The offer to be our sex slave is still open, Prof. Pretty."
"Shut up," Anxo retorted. Like they had any right calling him pretty, not when they were walking clothing ads. They always had taken the Department policy of dressing well a bit too far – probably just to annoy those coworkers who would be annoyed by such a thing.
He raked a hand through his hair, which was a flat dirty blonde rather than the gold of Hector's. He was skinny and only barely in shape, where he knew as much as they bitched Hector and Jordi were more than capable of working the long, hard days they so often pulled. His eyes were dark brown, typically smothered by his spectacles, with jeans and a dark green polo completing the look of boring college professor.
It was a look he worked hard to maintain; noticeable was not the way his type lived. Noticeable always came back to bite you in the ass. The only kink in the plan to be boring and uninteresting was his connection to the DMRP. But, no one knew exactly what he did, and being a professor of magic was explanation enough, as there weren't too many of those around.
Magic just wasn't a popular subject these days.
At least the burnings of the early days had finally fazed out, minus a zealot uprising here and there.
They pulled up to his house and Anxo led the way, gently touching his hand to the keypad, smiling faintly at the plaintive meow which greeted him as the door slid open. He scooped up the cat that came padding toward him. "Hello, Salem. Did you have a good day?"
"You really are cute, the way you talk to that cat, professor," Hector said. He shut the door behind them and locked it, then toed off his shoes before abandoning the entryway to make a beeline for Anxo's kitchen. "Hungry, professor?"
"Yes," Anxo said. He was, but even if he wasn't, he'd say yes. Hector was aggravating, but the man could cook. In an age where cooking was becoming a lost art, or so it seemed to Anxo, he would cheerfully sell his soul for someone who could use a kitchen. "I'll take whatever you want to fix."
"I think I'll try a new pasta recipe I found the other day," Hector said absently, already pulling out the equipment and ingredients he'd need. Anxo kept the kitchen well stocked for just these occasions. It was worth the money.
"Where's your computer?" Jordi asked.
Anxo motioned for him to sit. "Hang on, I'll get it." Setting Salem down, he went swiftly to his study and retrieved his mini. Carrying it back to the kitchen, he sat down at the bar next to Jordi, who'd gotten them all beers and was fiddling with a chip.
"Here," Jordi said. "That's everything of the crime scene – photos, reports, you name it. See what you come up with."
Taking the chip, Anxo slid it into the proper port of his mini, pushing the appropriate buttons to call up screen and keypad. The noises of the kitchen, the familiar banter between Hector and Jordi, Salem's soft mewls, all faded away as he focused on the 3D images and scrolls of reports that flashed before him. He absorbed all of it, going over each piece slowly, frowning at the points that made no sense, grimacing at the bodies and blood – they were far from the worst he'd seen, but seeing a dead body, even just an image of one, was never pleasant.
He froze one shot of the crime scene, reaching out to touch a portion of the image, causing the program to zoom in on it. "There," he said. "Look. Is everything still at the crime scene?"
"Yeah," Hector said from across the kitchen where he was draining the pasta. "Everything but the bodies was left as is; we ordered nothing get removed or even breathed on until we gave the order. What in the hell do you see?"
"A vial," Anxo said, and pointed again to the zoomed in image. "There, beneath the couch."
"How the fuck did you see that?" Jordi asked. "I was standing right there and I didn't see it."
"I missed it the first three times," Anxo said, pushing at his glasses. "I only just caught a glint of glass on the first pass."
"Well, hell," Hector said. "We'd better go get it, maybe it's the lead we need. The pasta can wait a bit; it'll have to."
"Let me change," Anxo said. "If I go around with you guys looking like this, I'm just going to draw more attention."
Jordi and Hector smirked. "Want some help changing?"
"No," Anxo said, shutting everything down and closing his mini up before he slid out off his barstool to go change into something more in keeping with the DMRP.
Half an hour later they pulled up in front of the dilapidated building that was the scene of the crime. The main floor was a warehouse – furniture, to judge by the faded pre-plague lettering – but it looked like it had a second floor that at some point had been turned into an apartment.
The stench of blood and gunpowder was strong. Grimacing, Anxo followed Jordi and Hector from the entryway to the living room. Ignoring the bloodstains smeared all over the room, he waited as patiently as he could while Hector fetched and properly filed the retrieved blood vial.
"There," Hector said, clicking off his field mini. "Documented. Professor, do what you do best."
Uncapping the vile, Anxo took a cautious sniff of the blood inside. It smelled all right, which meant the dealers had likely been legit – as legit as illegal blood dealers got, anyway. They weren't doing something to dilute the blood or otherwise make it look like they had more to sell than they really did.
Dipping his small finger into the vial, he slowly licked the blood from it, closing his eyes as it lingered on his tongue, filling his mouth with copper and… "This isn't something I recogni—" He cut himself off as the blood sank in, joined with his, giving him a taste of the magic in the blood taken from a Natural.
It didn't last long, a good half pint of blood was required for magic to really permeate his system, but it was enough to grasp what magic the blood contained. "Fuck."
He got a hint of their thoughts, a whirlwind of activity that gave him a headache – hunger and lust and confusion and exhaustion and a million other things that made him grateful he'd only taken a taste of the blood and not enough to truly absorb the magic.
"Telepathy," he said. "This blood was taken from a Natural telepath."
"That's impossible," Hector said, but even as he spoke he was whipping out his mini, punching in numbers and barking out orders to the poor fool on the other end of the line
When he hung nearly half an hour later, his face was grim. "Well, this shit just got more interesting. According to HQ, the telepath here in the US went missing three days ago – it was kept secret out of fear for the telepath's life."
"A moot point," Jordi said grimly. "She's probably dead by now."
"Not necessarily," Anxo said thoughtfully. "I mean, if they kill her, then no more telepath blood. Shit, that's really playing with fire – what are they hoping to accomplish? They're insane. Like anyone using telepathy is going to go unnoticed for long."
Hector frowned thoughtfully. "It might explain why they killed the dealers, though – why go through the dealers when they can snap up the source and get the blood on their own? A valuable commodity like a telepath – why put up with the middle man?"
"Fuck," Jordi said.
"Agreed," Anxo and Hector chorused. Anxo rubbed his forehead, willing away the headache he could feel forming. "There can't be that many straight Absorbers in the city willing to play with such high profile blood. Christ, I'm glad I'm a shift Absorber."
Extremely grateful. It made him less interesting in the long run. Straight Absorbers were the far more useful – and made up about seven percent of Absorbers. They drank the blood of Naturals and immediately gained the magic ingested. If they drank the blood of a Natural fire manipulator, they gained fire manipulation. If they drank from a telekinetic, they gained telekinesis.
Anxo was a shift Absorber – no matter what Natural blood he drank, his body absorbed it and converted it into his own inherent magic type – empathy.
No one knew why there were two different types of Absorbers. The most popular opinion in the scientific world was that they were just two different types of mutations. The popular opinion across the general world was that a freak was a freak, and the details didn't matter.
And anything that drank blood and benefited from it was a freak.
"Let's go eat," Hector said. "Boss man said to lay low for now, given the sudden nature of our case."
Anxo followed them out to the car, and they rode in silence all the way back to his house.
Warning you now, this really is not typically my thing. I'm not even sure where it came from, honestly. Well, I could probably sort it out, but really who cares? ^^; This and that annoyed me, I'm sure, and lo. But, it could very well suck, I warn you now.
Also, part one is not complete. It's just as far as I'm getting tonight.
*edit* A/N: Because it's kind of a random name, I thought for once I'd comment on how to say it. Anxo is pronounced AN-shaw. ^^;
Taste of Magic
I. Vampires
Anxo slammed his fist down on the desk, somewhat mollified when all the students snapped to it. "That's more like it," he snapped, not bothering to tamp down on his irritation. "I gave you a stupid easy assignment. Fifth graders could have done this assignment better than any of you managed. Let me remind you of something. This school costs about 75,000 marks to attend – per semester. This class costs 1000 marks. Ever last one of you just paid me 1000 marks to sit there on your spoiled brat asses and do nothing. Congratulations, you're the pride and joy of our modern society."
"Hey—"
"Shut up," Anxo said, voice a bit more pleasant now that he'd gotten that out of his system. "Just shut up, or I will mark you down as failing my class. Now, let's try this again. This is Intro Magic, so one of the most important things you need to learn is how humans came to possess what is popularly referred to as magic. Mr. Carlton," he said, smiling at the man he'd told to shut up. "You seem talkative today, tell us why we now have magic."
Mr. Carlton looked as though he'd swallowed something sour. "Because roughly one hundred years ago half the population was wiped out by the NB Plague."
"And?" Anxo said.
"And the cure given to the other half did some really weird shit to a lot of the survivors and ever since then we've had freaks walking among us."
"Watch your mouth," Anxo said coldly. "The halls of academia are not the place for racism. And you are incorrect by about fifty years – the NB Plague struck the one hundred and forty seven years ago. The emergence of magic was an unexpected side effect to the drug administered hastily to the surviving masses. Extensive studies continue to this day, but no one as yet has determined what precisely the NB cure did to wake magic in what today is roughly 35% of the population."
A young woman raised her hand. "Professor, you say wake magic My dad always said it was a disease in and of itself."
Anxo nodded. "Yes, the field of magic is divided roughly into two schools of thought on the matter – there are some who think the drug simply created a new problem which has since taken genetic hold, and the other half believe the drug merely woke latent abilities that long lay dormant. We will study both hypotheses throughout the semester." He pointed to another student who raised his hand.
"Are we going to study Vampires too?"
"Not if I hear that term again," Anxo said. "If I hear one more racial slur in my class, I will start automatically failing the transgressors. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Professor," the students recited dutifully.
"So are we?" the student asked.
Anxo pushed his glasses up his nose. "There is much to study in the field of magic," he said slowly, "and the subject of Absorbers is highly controversial. They are still very much a mystery. But, if you all work hard and we cover all that is on the syllabus, then yes, we will touch upon the subject of Absorbers."
At that the students sprang into a buzz of conversation, voices alternately hushed and overloud.
"So what else can everyone tell me about magic and magic users?"
"It tends to run in families," another woman said. "It's rare for a Natural or an Absorber to show up in Cave—I mean in Free families."
"Yes," Anxo replied. "That is correct. What else can you tell me? So far the morning class is making you lot look pathetic."
Four hands shot up. He pointed to the farthest. "Magic tends to show up with puberty."
"Correct," Anxo said. "I would hope by this point you would all know at least that." He pointed to another raised hand.
The young man had restless hands, playing with his pencil, his notebook. Anxo bet his notes were more doodles than anything. "Magic type tends to run in the family as well. You're not likely to get a pyro – oh crap is that racist? – in a family of lightning bugs. Aw, crap, that was racist too."
Anxo's mouth quirked in a smile. "Pyro and lightning bug are obnoxious, but I would not call them racist. However, you may want to speak with persons who have those abilities. And yes, you are correct. I'm glad to see my class knows the basics. However, there is one exception to the general rule that magic and type of magic runs in the family. Does anyone know that exception?"
"Telepathy," said a deep, easy voice from behind Anxo.
He turned sharply on his heel, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he glared at the intruder. Intruders, actually. Two men stood in the doorway. The students immediately broke into not so furtive whispers, pointing and gesturing. "May I help you?" he asked politely, for the sake of the students.
It would be poor form indeed to act flippantly in front of two officers from the Department of Magic Regulation and Protection. They both wore black suits of excellent quality. The man on the right, slightly taller than his partner, wore a pale blue tie that matched his eyes and enhanced the blue-black of his hair. His partner wore a deep red vest beneath his blaze, with a tie of red and black stripes. The severe colors brought out the gold in his blonde curls, but otherwise made him look the harder of the two, despite the smile on his face.
Deceptive appearances, largely. Neither man could be bothered to be serious for more than ten minutes at a stretch, fifteen if they were exhausted.
The dark haired man had been the one to speak. "Telepathy," he repeated, a smirk on his pale, pretty mouth. "There are only a dozen telepaths in the world, and they were born to families with a wide range of magical talents, none of which were even remotely close to telepathy."
"Yes," Anxo replied. "No one is quite sure why that is, but," he turned to the class. "That is something we will be discussing at a later date. Your homework is to read what's on the syllabus, and be prepared to discuss it at length. Class dismissed."
He waited until every last student was gone, then waited a few minutes more to ensure no one was coming back, then strode across the room and locked the door. "What do you want?" he asked.
The blonde man strode to the rows of seats and collapsed into one. "Christ, it feels good to sit down. Fuck me, my feet hurt."
"Long day?" Anxo asked.
"Yes," said the dark haired man. "Hector and I have been up since midnight, wearing out our damned shoes."
Anxo quirked a brow at them. "You look awfully nice and tidy for a couple of guys working the streets all night."
Hector snickered. "Jordi threw a temper tantrum at HQ. We were thrown out with strict orders to get cleaned up, get fed, and get you – in that order, more or less."
"Me, huh?" Anxo said, moving to pack up his things at the desk. "I rather figured it wasn't a social call. You two never pay social calls. I'm not sure you know how."
"Social call implies we have the time to socialize, which we don't. Fucking HQ likes to work us to death," Hector said. "Speaking of which, we should get back to work. Come along, Professor Pretty."
Anxo glared. "I have told you to stop calling me that."
"Yeah, well, HQ keeps telling me to watch my mouth. If I don't listen to them, I'm not going to listen to you."
Rolling his eyes, Anxo slung his bag over his shoulder and looked at them. "So my office, or are we going home?"
Jordi motioned vaguely in the air. "We've got shit for you to look over."
"Home, then," Anxo replied. "Better not to look at that shit on work issue equipment, and I didn't bring my personal stuff with me today. I hope you drove, cause otherwise you're taking the subway with me."
"We brought a car," Hector replied. "You should stop being cheap and get a vehicle, professor. I know you make enough money to afford a good model."
Anxo rolled his eyes. "I like my legs enough to use them frequently."
"I like your legs too," Jordi replied. "I'm happy to—"
"Shut up," Anxo said.
"Disrespecting an officer, tsk, tsk," Jordi said.
Hector shook his head, heaving a long sigh. "It's a sad day when a civilian won't respect his betters, I tell you."
Anxo groaned. "Who did I piss off to get stuck with the two of you all day?"
"I dunno," Jordi replied. "Probably the same fucker whose had us awake since midnight. I'm telling you, man, being law abiding doesn't pay. Criminals commit their crimes and go to bed, it's our asses that have to stay up at all hours to go track down their asses."
Nodding absently, Anxo slid into the backseat of their car, sighing softly. "At least you jerks came at the end of my last class. I hate when you force me to cancel and reschedule shit."
"Hey, we try to get the lawbreakers to be more accommodating. You know how it is though," Jordi said. "For some weird reason, they only care about getting the blood to where it needs to be according to their convenience, not ours."
"Bastards," Hector inserted.
"Blood?" Anxo echoed quietly. Of course it would be blood. There was very little other reason the DMRP would bring him in to assist on a case.
"Yeah," Hector said, the humor fading from his voice. "We were called in to the scene of a triple homicide. From the looks of it, a blood trade went bad in a hurry. We think we've got the providers, but no sign of the buyers – or the blood."
Anxo nodded. Typical. It was hardly the first time blood buyers had decided they wanted the blood and their money – but it was a stupid thing to do, because now they were wanted for three murders. "I'm guessing the deal didn't go according to double crossing plan?"
"That's what it looks like," Jordi said. "I’m sure it's an open and shut, but it's weird enough HQ thought it best to bring in a consultant."
Stifling a sigh, Anxo relaxed in his seat and let the ride continue in silence. It was weird. Blood deals were difficult and dangerous enough without adding a complication like homicide to the mix It made a lot more sense just to pay the damn money, take the blood, and go home. Hell, the price would get tripled on the street, there was no point in killing the providers – especially since reputable sellers were hard to come by.
It wasn't the first time a blood deal had ended in a blood bath, but it was infrequent enough that yeah, HQ was wise to bring in a consultant.
He thought idly that he should have asked his students if they knew what percentage of the world was Absorbers. Just 17 % -- not a small chunk, but not a big chunk either. That left 35% of the population to Naturals, and the remaining 48 % were all Clean – no trace of magical ability.
"So, consultant," Jordi said, breaking the long silence. "Have you heard anything lately?"
"Not really," Anxo said. "To be honest, it's been really fucking quiet. I was just starting to think it's been too quiet. Another day or so and I would have been calling you. Sometimes, it's just hard to tell."
They both made noises of agreement.
"We haven't learned much," Hector said. "That's most of our frustration. A blood deal gone bad, no trace of blood or money, and way too many false leads on what blood is entering and leaving the city. Days like this, man, I wished we live in happy suburbia land."
Jordi snorted. "Yeah, right. You'd last five fucking minutes before the Purists had you running screaming back to us for a bit of depravity and fun."
"Whatever you say, magic boy," Hector retorted with a grin.
Anxo rolled his eyes at them again, but really it was just for form's sake. So long as he never had to admit it, he was perfectly okay with admitting he liked working with them – spending any time with them. He spent all fucking day teaching magic to those who didn't have it, or wouldn't admit they could have it, hearing one slur after another cast down, only to go home to listen to yet more hatred most Clean felt for the Natural, and the abject fear and loathing both held for Absorbers.
Sitting here, listening to Hector and Jordi banter…it was such a sappy campaign waiting to happen, but that didn’t' lessen the truth of it. DMRP law said that officers must work in pairs, and that each pair must contain one Natural and one Clean.
He'd seen more than a few people struggle to figure out which was which between Hector and Jordi. They worked hard to make it impossible, forcing people to treat them the same for as long as possible. Outside of the Department, only a precious few probably knew that Jordi was the Natural, and Hector the Clean.
More than once he'd found himself wishing people would take a lesson, that everyone would just learn to get along the same fucking way as Hector and Jordi, but he hated sounding that way even in his own head. If there was one thing he knew, it was that people didn't change – they just shifted their focus. Once they got tired of hating one thing, they'd start hating another.
Unfortunately, he thought it would be a long, long time before the hatred over magic shifted to something else. It was just too easy for the Clean to hate the Natural and vice versa…and he preferred not to think about Absorbers.
"I think I need a vacation," he said aloud.
"School's barely started," Hector said. "You're fucked. What did you do all summer, man? Work? We've warned you about that."
"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?" Anxo asked. "It's hard to have a social life when you're a consultant and a professor."
"Hey," Jordi said. "The offer to be our sex slave is still open, Prof. Pretty."
"Shut up," Anxo retorted. Like they had any right calling him pretty, not when they were walking clothing ads. They always had taken the Department policy of dressing well a bit too far – probably just to annoy those coworkers who would be annoyed by such a thing.
He raked a hand through his hair, which was a flat dirty blonde rather than the gold of Hector's. He was skinny and only barely in shape, where he knew as much as they bitched Hector and Jordi were more than capable of working the long, hard days they so often pulled. His eyes were dark brown, typically smothered by his spectacles, with jeans and a dark green polo completing the look of boring college professor.
It was a look he worked hard to maintain; noticeable was not the way his type lived. Noticeable always came back to bite you in the ass. The only kink in the plan to be boring and uninteresting was his connection to the DMRP. But, no one knew exactly what he did, and being a professor of magic was explanation enough, as there weren't too many of those around.
Magic just wasn't a popular subject these days.
At least the burnings of the early days had finally fazed out, minus a zealot uprising here and there.
They pulled up to his house and Anxo led the way, gently touching his hand to the keypad, smiling faintly at the plaintive meow which greeted him as the door slid open. He scooped up the cat that came padding toward him. "Hello, Salem. Did you have a good day?"
"You really are cute, the way you talk to that cat, professor," Hector said. He shut the door behind them and locked it, then toed off his shoes before abandoning the entryway to make a beeline for Anxo's kitchen. "Hungry, professor?"
"Yes," Anxo said. He was, but even if he wasn't, he'd say yes. Hector was aggravating, but the man could cook. In an age where cooking was becoming a lost art, or so it seemed to Anxo, he would cheerfully sell his soul for someone who could use a kitchen. "I'll take whatever you want to fix."
"I think I'll try a new pasta recipe I found the other day," Hector said absently, already pulling out the equipment and ingredients he'd need. Anxo kept the kitchen well stocked for just these occasions. It was worth the money.
"Where's your computer?" Jordi asked.
Anxo motioned for him to sit. "Hang on, I'll get it." Setting Salem down, he went swiftly to his study and retrieved his mini. Carrying it back to the kitchen, he sat down at the bar next to Jordi, who'd gotten them all beers and was fiddling with a chip.
"Here," Jordi said. "That's everything of the crime scene – photos, reports, you name it. See what you come up with."
Taking the chip, Anxo slid it into the proper port of his mini, pushing the appropriate buttons to call up screen and keypad. The noises of the kitchen, the familiar banter between Hector and Jordi, Salem's soft mewls, all faded away as he focused on the 3D images and scrolls of reports that flashed before him. He absorbed all of it, going over each piece slowly, frowning at the points that made no sense, grimacing at the bodies and blood – they were far from the worst he'd seen, but seeing a dead body, even just an image of one, was never pleasant.
He froze one shot of the crime scene, reaching out to touch a portion of the image, causing the program to zoom in on it. "There," he said. "Look. Is everything still at the crime scene?"
"Yeah," Hector said from across the kitchen where he was draining the pasta. "Everything but the bodies was left as is; we ordered nothing get removed or even breathed on until we gave the order. What in the hell do you see?"
"A vial," Anxo said, and pointed again to the zoomed in image. "There, beneath the couch."
"How the fuck did you see that?" Jordi asked. "I was standing right there and I didn't see it."
"I missed it the first three times," Anxo said, pushing at his glasses. "I only just caught a glint of glass on the first pass."
"Well, hell," Hector said. "We'd better go get it, maybe it's the lead we need. The pasta can wait a bit; it'll have to."
"Let me change," Anxo said. "If I go around with you guys looking like this, I'm just going to draw more attention."
Jordi and Hector smirked. "Want some help changing?"
"No," Anxo said, shutting everything down and closing his mini up before he slid out off his barstool to go change into something more in keeping with the DMRP.
Half an hour later they pulled up in front of the dilapidated building that was the scene of the crime. The main floor was a warehouse – furniture, to judge by the faded pre-plague lettering – but it looked like it had a second floor that at some point had been turned into an apartment.
The stench of blood and gunpowder was strong. Grimacing, Anxo followed Jordi and Hector from the entryway to the living room. Ignoring the bloodstains smeared all over the room, he waited as patiently as he could while Hector fetched and properly filed the retrieved blood vial.
"There," Hector said, clicking off his field mini. "Documented. Professor, do what you do best."
Uncapping the vile, Anxo took a cautious sniff of the blood inside. It smelled all right, which meant the dealers had likely been legit – as legit as illegal blood dealers got, anyway. They weren't doing something to dilute the blood or otherwise make it look like they had more to sell than they really did.
Dipping his small finger into the vial, he slowly licked the blood from it, closing his eyes as it lingered on his tongue, filling his mouth with copper and… "This isn't something I recogni—" He cut himself off as the blood sank in, joined with his, giving him a taste of the magic in the blood taken from a Natural.
It didn't last long, a good half pint of blood was required for magic to really permeate his system, but it was enough to grasp what magic the blood contained. "Fuck."
He got a hint of their thoughts, a whirlwind of activity that gave him a headache – hunger and lust and confusion and exhaustion and a million other things that made him grateful he'd only taken a taste of the blood and not enough to truly absorb the magic.
"Telepathy," he said. "This blood was taken from a Natural telepath."
"That's impossible," Hector said, but even as he spoke he was whipping out his mini, punching in numbers and barking out orders to the poor fool on the other end of the line
When he hung nearly half an hour later, his face was grim. "Well, this shit just got more interesting. According to HQ, the telepath here in the US went missing three days ago – it was kept secret out of fear for the telepath's life."
"A moot point," Jordi said grimly. "She's probably dead by now."
"Not necessarily," Anxo said thoughtfully. "I mean, if they kill her, then no more telepath blood. Shit, that's really playing with fire – what are they hoping to accomplish? They're insane. Like anyone using telepathy is going to go unnoticed for long."
Hector frowned thoughtfully. "It might explain why they killed the dealers, though – why go through the dealers when they can snap up the source and get the blood on their own? A valuable commodity like a telepath – why put up with the middle man?"
"Fuck," Jordi said.
"Agreed," Anxo and Hector chorused. Anxo rubbed his forehead, willing away the headache he could feel forming. "There can't be that many straight Absorbers in the city willing to play with such high profile blood. Christ, I'm glad I'm a shift Absorber."
Extremely grateful. It made him less interesting in the long run. Straight Absorbers were the far more useful – and made up about seven percent of Absorbers. They drank the blood of Naturals and immediately gained the magic ingested. If they drank the blood of a Natural fire manipulator, they gained fire manipulation. If they drank from a telekinetic, they gained telekinesis.
Anxo was a shift Absorber – no matter what Natural blood he drank, his body absorbed it and converted it into his own inherent magic type – empathy.
No one knew why there were two different types of Absorbers. The most popular opinion in the scientific world was that they were just two different types of mutations. The popular opinion across the general world was that a freak was a freak, and the details didn't matter.
And anything that drank blood and benefited from it was a freak.
"Let's go eat," Hector said. "Boss man said to lay low for now, given the sudden nature of our case."
Anxo followed them out to the car, and they rode in silence all the way back to his house.
