Shachi stirred from sleep, knowing something was out of place but still too deep into his subconscious to accurately pinpoint what it was. He shifted in place and tried getting comfy again, figuring the heater had kicked on or something. He breathed in a long sigh, filling his lungs with the smoke that hung on the air before blowing it out in a couching fit.
His eyes opened, still trying to put the pieces together, then they widened and he snapped up off the couch and saw the thick, heavy smoke that filtered in from under the door to the hallway and up to the ceiling.
"Summer!" He called out, running towards her room and knocking loudly. Then, feeling foolish, he pushed himself inside anyway because this was too important to wait for her to get up and open the door for him.
"What's…what's going on?" She looked startled, still half asleep but knowing Shachi wouldn't barge in like this unless something bad or important was happening. She stood shakily, watching as he grabbed her suitcase and threw it on the bed.
"Something's on fire. We have to get out of here." He explained without preamble, already throwing some of her clothing into the case.
The blonde wasted no time in helping him put her things away. She ran to the bathroom and gathered the few things they'd gotten for her to be more comfortable while staying there. It honestly wasn't much, but she didn't want them to have wasted their money.
"Here, put this on." Shachi said, handing her the black wig she'd used to sneak out of Law's house so long ago.
"Why?"
Shachi shrugged. "This could be something to do with Law, but it might just be a coincidence. No use blowing our cover if we don't have to."
It made sense. Nodding, she smoothed out the hair and began putting it on her head, tugging on the mesh underneath so it would better hide her blonde hair. It wasn't going to be perfect, but given the situation, a little disheveled look wouldn't necessarily look out of place.
The smoke from the living room began to spill into Summer's room now, filtering in from the crack under the door. Shachi noticed and cursed under his breath and zipped up the suitcase with whatever it contained. "Ok, we gotta go!" He said, grabbing onto the handle and heading towards the door.
"Wait!" Summer said, hurrying to the bathroom again to grab two of the hand towels hanging from the ring on the wall. She handed one to Shachi and unfolded hers. "To cover our mouths." She said, holding it up so she wouldn't inhale so much smoke.
He followed suit and she threw open the door, seeing nothing but a smoke-filled living room before them. Despite the minimal protection of the towels against their noses and mouths, they couldn't help but cough as they came in contact with the swirling mess of smoke.
Shachi led them both to the door and tested the door handle with his hand, relieved to find that it wasn't warm. At least the fire was directly next to them. He swung it open and ushered Summer out ahead of him, making sure they had everything they needed from the hotel room.
The hallway had more smoke in it than the living room had, and they both walked in a crouched position as they headed to the end of the hallway. The space echoed with their coughs, and Summer found it strange that no one else was evacuating. Perhaps they had gotten out first?
"Over here!" Shachi said, guiding them towards a set of stairs at the end of the hallway. They pushed through and made their way down until they hit the ground floor. Now that they were closer to the main floors, they began to see other guests, in similar states of disorientation and sleepiness, ushering out of the building.
Shachi kept hold of Summer's hand as they pulled themselves out into the night air and through the brunt of the crowd, turning to see what exactly was going on.
The opposite end of the hotel from where Summer had a room was ablaze, at least two floors completely engulfed in flames. Two or three rooms in the middle floors had flames licking out from within, blackening the stone of the building and threatening to spread upwards if not contained. It cast orange-yellow light across the hotel's parking lot, illuminating the otherwise darkness of the evening.
A loud siren from further down the street announced the arrival of the firemen. Summer watched as the guests gathered tighter and further away from the building to allow the firemen to do their job without getting in the way. She'd never been on the scene of a fire like this, and couldn't help but watch as they pulled up swiftly to the front of the building and got to work.
"Come on, answer…" Shachi mumbled beside her, gaining her attention. He was on the phone, head low so others couldn't hear what he was saying. One finger plugged his ear so the loud siren didn't take up his hearing.
"Who are you calling?" She asked, but Shachi held up a finger, asking for just a moment. She nodded, letting herself look back at the flaming hotel.
She remembered with a sinking feeling that her sketchbook, her gift from the boys, had been in the living room. She doubted Shachi had thought to grab it. Well, there was no getting it back now, she supposed…
Following right after that was the sickening feeling that this fire had been intended for her room. Had this been an attempt to kill her, or had it been a simple coincidence and this was a separate incident? The worst part was not knowing, and knowing that she'd probably never find out the answer.
"Penguin, the hotel caught fire. We're gonna have to look into a new place." Shachi suddenly said, just loud enough that Summer could hear, but no one else. "No, we're fine. We grabbed as much as we could and got out. The fire was on the other end of the building, but still…I don't know, it could have been… I say we act as if it was just in case…"
Summer watched him, thoroughly confused, but Shachi didn't give anything away.
"Any ideas?…Wouldn't that be too obvious though?…We could just do another hotel or something…I guess…Alright, if you think it'll be fine. I'll bring her over."
He hung up the phone, turning to Summer. "We have to move you. We don't know if this was supposed to be a way to get to you, but we shouldn't take any chances. For now, let's treat this as if we've been discovered. Grab your stuff."
Summer nodded, seeing the sense in their reasoning, and opened the retractable handle for the rolling suitcase. Shachi lead them both towards the car, trying not to be too obvious to the crowd of people watching the firemen do their job. Thankfully the fire took most of their attention away from anyone possibly trying to leave.
Alyssa Bustamante, age 15. Charged with 1st degree murder and drug possession. The mugshot showed a unperturbed young teen girl. Her thousand-yard vacant stare somewhere behind the cameraman was akin to expressions worn by psychopaths the lawyer had dealt with in the past. Without having met her yet, Hitomi could tell the girl felt no remorse for the crime she'd committed. Murdering a nine year old apparently was 'fun' for her. Despicable.
Next in the stack was Charles Edmond Cullen. Hitomi had dealt with 'angels of death' before, but none that had killed quite as many as he was being charged for. According to what records the local police was able to recover, as many as 40 elderly deaths could be a result of poisoning by the nurse. She was eager to see him burn, or fry, at the very least, in front of the jury.
Hitomi set the files to the side with a sigh, picking up another right below it. So many to go through, so little time. Being one of the best prosecutors in the city had it's perks, but the cases she received weren't easy. High profile and widely televised were common traits for most of her cases.
She'd handled much more prolific criminals in the past without much issue, but her mind was elsewhere at the moment, unable to focus on the cases she needed to work on building.
Vergo. That name was stained onto her brain, constantly in the forefront of her mind while at the office. In addition to her workload, she'd decided to look into the name. It wasn't a common one, though a part of her feared it was a fake name or codename used within the cartels. Wouldn't luck have it, however, she'd pulled up only one file of a man named Vergo in the city's databases.
"Got you." She muttered to herself, reading through what little the file contained.
The basic profile was bland. Almost suspiciously so. Aged 41, a slightly taller man than the average male. His listed occupation was a psychologist's administrative assistant in the middle of downtown. An unremarkable job to an unremarkable man. Hitomi's searches on the psychologist himself yielded a similar profile.
No kids and no wife, as far as she could see, and no listed criminal history. Not even a parking or speeding ticket to his name. Odd. Even the average law-abiding citizen had a few gray marks on their files. No one was perfect. This man seemed spotless, the model citizen.
Hitomi didn't like it.
Earlier in the morning, she'd requested the several offices that kept vital records on citizens if there was any additional information they could provide her with. There had to be something she was missing. Something that could point her in the right direction. Everyone had secrets they'd rather keep hidden. Vergo was no different. And luckily Hitomi was and expert at uncovering the truth from liars.
The lawyer placed the file in her hand—a case involving a teenaged girl who'd tried to commit suicide by smashing her vehicle into a stationary car containing two occupants—to the side and placed her head in her hands. A deep sigh escaped her lips, and she rubbed at her eyes with exhaustion. It wasn't even lunch time and she was already this tired.
She had never had such trouble staying on task before. She was adept at managing her time and her workload, but today was something else entirely. Burdened with the worry for her younger brother and her still-missing neighbor, the shock of the aftermath of a house break-in, the thrill of having a stable relationship to go home to, as well as the desperation to find out who this Vergo person really was, Hitomi was pulled in so many different directions she could hardly breathe. Couldn't people die from too much stress? Certainly the amount of responsibility she had to oversee was enough to cause the average human to keel over. She couldn't imagine someone dealing with these feelings long term.
She hoped beyond hope that Soma was actually ok. Out of all of the things grabbing for her attention, she allowed her sweet brother to be the priority. He'd been so different the past week, and she couldn't help but feel she wasn't any help at all. Maybe Zoro had been right. Perhaps she missed being the person Soma depended on for comfort and support all the time. Maybe it was time to let that go. But another part of her feared that stepping away would only make things worse. What if this was his way of crying out for help? What if she was unintentionally turning her back on her brother when he needed for most?
She truly was thankful for Zoro. Without him around, she would have struggled to maintain her composure most days. Hitomi had always prided herself on being totally independent, capable of functioning in all aspects of life without the need of rely on someone else. Just as simple as it was to exist by herself, having Zoro around made it all the more easier. He gave himself freely and without expectation of anything in return, respected her for her unique individualism, and stayed true to who he was all in the same instant.
Her office phone's ringing broke through her thoughts, and she sat up straight in the chair, taking a breath to even her thoughts. Everything except work was pushed to the back of her mind. She released it through her nose and picked up the phone.
"Quicksilver Law Firm, Hitomi speaking."
"Yes, hi. This is Kalifa with the Department of Finance. You had called earlier with an inquiry?"
"Oh, yes. Thank you for getting back with me." Hitomi felt a surge of excitement, or anxiety, she couldn't quite tell. "Was there any further information you could find?"
"I searched through our database for any records we had on your inquiry for the past twenty years. Honestly, there was a lot less than I expected for that length of time. There wasn't much in addition to what you already knew. I've already forwarded them to your email."
"That helps greatly, thank you so much."
Hitomi said her goodbye and quickly navigated over to her computer's email tab. Sure enough, an official email from the Office of Finance sat at the very top, and she clicked on it.
Kalifa had explained in the body of the email that they didn't have much on this person named Vergo, and that perhaps she might find what she was looking for within a different city department. She skipped past the text to see the attachments, which were about a dozen documents. She opened them one by one.
The first 10 were the most recent tax filings. She didn't spend much time there, merely skimming the contents, before skipping to the next few files left.
Second in the list was a series of receipts that were being claimed as a tax write-off. They were all for charity donations to the same place. Something called 'House of Hope.' Hmm. Hitomi had never heard of it before.
A quick google search brought up a single website, which spouted out a generic charity mission statement and a few photos that looked suspiciously to be stock images anyone could get from the internet if they looked hard enough. It had a few resource pages, but nothing too complicated that someone with a general idea of how to create a website couldn't manage. It was just professional enough to look legitimate, but just empty and superficial enough to leave Hitomi wondering. She'd set that aside to dig into later.
The last document was for a lawsuit between Vergo and a man named Jack H. Trafalgar. The bottom of the page had a stamp placed on it, meaning this had originally been expunged from the record, and that the only copy was to be kept on paper and filed away separately. No electronic copy at all. It was dated years before, almost irrelevant at this point, but Hitomi would turn every stone to see what she could find out abut the man.
According to the report, the lawsuit against Vergo pertained to inhumane practices at a hospital located on the very edge of the city. Practically the ghetto, if Hitomi remembered correctly. Jack had cited instances of intentional neglect to patients of low economic or financial status, negligent medical practices that if left unchecked could result in an eventual injury or death of a patient, falsifying of medical records, and the hiring of unqualified staff seen to by the hospital's director. Which, according to this document, had been Vergo at the time.
Strangely enough, she found no other supplementary document to go with the first. There was no follow up. Hitomi wondered if the second conclusive document had been lost, destroyed, or if there wasn't one to begin with. This could happen if a lawsuit was retracted and dismissed by the original party. Hmm…She'd have to do a bit more digging on that one. Perhaps a few calls to the law firm it was originally created through. If, by chance, the listed officials it had been filed through were even still there.
And for the life of her, something felt closely familiar to that name. Trafalgar…she couldn't put her finger on it, but she was sure her instinct was correct. Another thing she'd have to look into at a later date.
Something felt strange about this, especially the lawsuit paper. She set them aside, her curiosity sated momentarily. Enough so that she could now calm her inner turmoil in that area enough to focus on the task at hand: her actual case files needing attention.
"Where are we?" Summer asked quietly, peering out the passenger window of Shachi's car at the apartment complex they'd arrived to.
"Our place." Shachi said simply, easing into his parking spot under the metal awning.
The blonde's eyes widened, turning to her friend. "Isn't that putting the both of you in more danger? We don't have to do this just for me."
"It's alright. Penguin says there isn't a high chance of being found out over here. It's away from the main city and I don't think Joker's people would be watching our apartments this long after you disappeared."
Their reasoning was weak at best, but she trusted they knew what they were doing. The main thing she was concerned about was putting them in more danger than was necessary. They were already sacrificing a lot to keep her safe and she'd hate to take more away given the circumstances.
Shachi took out the keys and they exited the vehicle, Summer grabbing her suitcase from the back seat. They walked into the middle of the complex and towards a building set in the middle of most of them. Building C. They walked up the stairs to the second of the three floors, and Shachi unlocked it with his set of keys.
"I was getting worried for a minute there." Penguin said, standing from the couch in the living room as they both entered.
Shachi shrugged and tossed his keys on the counter. "I took the back roads, just in case. Took a little longer than usual."
Summer stepped further inside and shut the door behind her, surveying the apartment curiously. It was neat but definitely home to men. The smell of cologne and left over pizza permeated the stale air. The living room had a two-seat couch on the far side, with a flatscreen tv facing opposite. Headsets and controllers for the game console were haphazardly shoved underneath in the entertainment center.
The kitchen was further back, blocked off into it's own separate room, with a hallway leading to what she assumed to be the bedrooms next to that. It wasn't a trash heap, at least kept tidy, but stray soda cans could be seen littering corners of the counters and next to the couch legs.
"Home sweet home for the next little bit. Hope it's alright." Shachi said to her, spreading his hands to gesture to the room.
She took another glance around and gave a small smile. "It looks nice. I like it."
"Well, good! I hope you like video games, because I've been dying to play some PUBG for days now and we finally don't have to go back and forth to that hotel anymore." Penguin said cheerfully, flopping onto the couch and grabbing the remote to change the input setting.
"Uhh, well I've watched Law play some of his games before, but I'm not really a gamer. Is it ok if I just watch?"
"You bet. I'll duo you, Penguin." Shachi offered, moving to take off his shoes and join his friend on the couch.
Summer stood there awkwardly, not really sure where she should situate herself in relation to the actual residents of the house. Penguin seemed to have noticed her hesitation.
"Oh, right! You can put your stuff over in the corner there. We don't really have a spare bedroom, so you'll have to take the couch, if that's ok?"
"Yeah, I don't mind." She rushed to reassure. It really didn't matter to her.
"We'll figure out the bathroom situation later, but this is your home now too. Settle in how you want." He kindly offered.
"Ok."
After placing her suitcase in the corner where Penguin had pointed out, she wandered into the kitchen to look around some more. It was small, nothing more than two people really needed, but cozy. Out of pure curiosity, she opened the fridge door, expecting to see the contents of a bachelor's diet, but was surprised to find fruits and vegetables and regular food like any middle-class family would have. At least they ate like normal people.
She closed it and heard the telltale sounds of their game being started on the tv. Well, that was probably something she'd have to get used to as well. Things would be a little different from this point forward, she surmised. A whole new routine to learn and adapt to.
That's was alright, though. Summer was learning to become good at adapting to ever-changing situations. As sad or encouraging as that may be.
Law barely looked at Kidd as he walked into the kitchen from the hallway, eyes too busy watching the news station on the tv. He heard rummaging around, but ignored it for the most part.
"…authorities say faulty wiring in one of the room's kitchens caused a spark to ignite a nearby towel or other flammable material. This lead to at least 7 hotel rooms damaged or destroyed by the flames." The female anchor on the field was standing in front of the aftermath of the hotel fire, fire crews and their fire engines still in front of the building.
"Responders have so far confirmed as many as 10 people injured in the blaze, with one guest unaccounted for. Hotel staff were quick to evacuate guests once it was discovered, but teams are still searching through the damaged rooms for any sign of any remaining victims."
Law flinched as the orange smacked into his chest, dropping into his lap. He looked up with a glare directed at Kidd, who looked unperturbed by his sudden and unprovoked attack on his guest.
"So, when do I get to kick you out of here?" He asked, casually munching on an orange of his own.
Law shook his head, knowing that it would be a waste of breath to berate or argue about the thrown fruit, instead just reaching down to start peeling it. He was rather hungry, anyway. Best not to complain about offered food with the redhead.
"A few more days, maybe. Not quite where I should be yet."
Kidd frowned. "Well, don't take your time, princess."
"Trust me, I'm not looking forward to staying any longer than I have to." Law replied bitterly, already tired of the smell of his living room. It was sour and unpleasant, and he was suspiciously certain that the smell of sex was perpetually mixed in with it all. It was disgusting.
He missed his own apartment. By now it had probably been broken into and ransacked. At the very least, Joker probably had people watching it at all times, on the off chance that he were to return for any reason. It was the very last thing he'd ever do, going back home, but Joker made sure he left no loose ends.
Kidd finished his orange and wandered back down the hallway. Law had learned to differentiate the sound of his bedroom door versus his bathroom door closing. It wasn't like he'd had anything else to occupy his time with. The redhead shut his bedroom door behind him, then emerged a few minutes later wherein what was only a half step up from the white tank top and sweat pants he'd been wearing previously.
"Going out?" Law asked out of boredom rather than interest. Any conversation was better than sitting there doing nothing. Even conversations with Kidd, however much they lacked for meaning.
"My business is my own." Came his snide reply. Then, after a second while he tied his shoes up, he grunted. "But yeah. Out to fuck the first slut I come across."
Law raised a brow but was otherwise unaffected by his crude description. Kidd straightened, grabbing his wallet and keys from the counter, before crossing the living room to exit the apartment.
"Don't fucking touch anything while I'm gone. Trust me, I'll know if you do."
Law waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, a nonverbal acceptance of his demand. "Make good choices." The bartender called sarcastically as the door shut behind the resident, hearing it lock behind him.
So much for a meaningful conversation.
ns 15.158.61.15da2
