Eldritch Guidance

Joe and Alan advanced toward a group of nearby police officers. As they drew closer, the dim, flickering lights of the police cars illuminated the officers’ faces, and Joe internally groaned. Though their names escaped him at the moment, he instantly recognized them—they belonged to members of Lewis’s investigation unit.

These weren’t just any officers; they were part of Lewis’s team that got put on Sleuth-Hawks operations like Joe. Their presence at the scene suggested that whatever had transpired at this residence was far from ordinary, and likely connected to the Sorin investigation. Joe’s mind raced as he considered the implications, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. The officers from Lewis’s team moved with purposeful urgency, their expressions a mix of concentration and prudence, indicating that they were deep into the initial stages of their investigation.

Joe felt a knot tighten in his gut as he prepared himself for the interaction, fully aware that whatever lay ahead would demand every ounce of his patience and resolve.

One of the officers, who had been deep in conversation with his colleagues, noticed Joe approaching. He paused mid-sentence, his expression shifting from focused to weary as he recognized who was heading their way. With a resigned sigh, the officer turned to fully face Joe, his shoulders slumping slightly as if already anticipating the conversation to come. The familiarity between them was evident, marked by the officer’s tired reaction, as if he knew that Joe’s arrival would bring complications.

Lewis Subordinate: “Joe, what are you doing here?”

Joe: “What am I doing here? What the fuck? You guys called me here.”

Lewis Subordinate: “As if anyone would do that in our unit. We know how you and Lewis behave around each other, and we would never call you unless we had no other choice. We don’t need you two arguing.”

Joe: “Fucking Lewis,” he mumbled under his breath.

There was an unspoken, mostly one-sided rivalry simmering between Lewis and Joe. Lewis had always felt the need to outshine Joe, constantly striving to solve more cases and accumulate a longer list of accomplishments. On paper, Lewis’s record was impressive, with more than double the number of successful investigations compared to Joe's. However, the reality was that the scope of Lewis’s successes paled in comparison to Joe’s. While Lewis was busy busting small-time drug dealers and handling minor cases, Joe was bringing down serial murderers and cracking complex cases that required a level of skill and dedication that few could match. This disparity didn’t sit well with Lewis, who often found himself irked by the fact that, despite his numbers, his achievements never seemed to carry the same weight as Joe’s.

The truth was, Joe didn’t care much about this rivalry. He had never seen Lewis as a competitor and didn’t engage in the petty one-upmanship that Lewis seemed to thrive on. Joe’s indifference, however, only fueled Lewis’s frustration. Determined to prove his superiority, Lewis often went out of his way to create more work for Joe, adding more tasks to his caseload.

This passive-aggressive behavior was the real source of Joe’s frustration with Lewis. It wasn’t the rivalry itself that bothered Joe, but the extra burden it placed on him—burdens that led to arguments between them. While Joe tried to stay focused on his work, Lewis’s relentless drive to compete created a tension that neither could fully escape.

Joe: “Look, I don’t want to argue with you or Lewis. I have my own shit I need to do. But, Tony sent me a message to come to this address. Said it was urgent.”

Lewis Subordinate: “Tony… There’s no one on our team named Tony?”

Joe: “Form forensics.”

Lewis Subordinate: “OH! That explains it. It was the forensics team that called you. No one from our team would ever.”

Joe: “Yeah… where is the forensics team?”

Lewis Subordinate: “They’re already inside looking into something.”

Upon hearing those words, Joe didn’t hesitate. He began to stride past the other officers, his focus locked on the taped-off house at the center of the commotion. But before Joe could get too far, the officer he had just been speaking with quickly reacted. Realizing Joe’s intent, the cop hurriedly stepped in front of him, cutting off his path.

The officer’s sudden move forced Joe to halt abruptly. The cop’s outstretched arm and stern expression signaled that this was as far as Joe would be allowed to go, at least for the moment.

Lewis Subordinate: “Whoa, whoa. You can’t go in there.”

Joe: “I’m a cop too, and the forensics team is asking to see me.”

Lewis Subordinate: “That’s not the issue! Lewis is also in that house. Look, I know you don’t try to fight with him, but that’s how it always ends up. It adds to our workload as well when you two fight.”

Joe: “I’m a higher rank than you, and I don’t care. So, move.”

The officer, who was Lewis's subordinate, grumbled in frustration before reluctantly stepping aside. Joe moved past the officer, catching the faint sound of him muttering curses under his breath as he walked by.

Alan followed closely behind Joe as they made their way towards the imposing house. The two of them approached the line of warning tape strung across the path and ducked under it without hesitation, continuing their steady march toward the large, looming structure. The front door of the house stood wide open, looking like it was smashed open. From their vantage point, Alan and Joe could see people moving about within.

Joe’s eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of someone inside, wearing an enforcer's uniform. Any lingering doubts that this scene was connected to the Sorin investigation vanished in an instant. The presence of the university enforcers was a clear sign that it was all related.

Joe walked through the front door inside. Alan hesitated for a little bit, but continued to follow behind Joe.

As they stepped inside, Joe's gaze drifted to the side, catching sight of another room through an open doorway. The space he found himself staring into was nothing short of extravagant. An electric fireplace was embedded in the far wall, its artificial flames casting a warm, flickering glow that added a cozy yet surreal ambiance to the room. The floor and ceiling were adorned with a striking blue stone, polished to a glossy sheen that reflected the light in a subtle, mesmerizing way.

The lighting in the room was ingeniously hidden, with fixtures embedded in the ceiling in such a way that they remained out of sight, casting a blue, even glow throughout the space. The walls were a blend of the same blue stone and an exotic black wood, the latter inlaid with intricate designs painted in a bright, golden hue that stood out brilliantly against the darker tones. Clear craftsmanship was in every detail, from the elaborate patterns to the seamless transitions between materials.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of blue leather couches that perfectly matched the stone’s hue, was a coffee table that looked like a block of black stone, its simplicity offering a striking contrast to the room’s overall richness. In one corner, a few small tables held ornate lamps. The entire space felt like a carefully curated display of wealth and taste, designed to impress and intimidate in equal measure.

The entire space had a degree of minimalist elegance that hinted at a luxurious lifestyle. The decorations alone made it clear that the owner of this home was wealthy.

Joe: “Well, if the outside didn’t already look expensive and gave it away, I would guess we walked into the home of a rich businessman or nobleman.”

???: “You’d be right.”

Joe turned to see the source of that familiar voice that he found ever so annoying.

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Approaching from another hallway was a man with short blond hair and a face that Joe would describe as “punchable”, was Lewis. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, its crisp fabric partially hidden beneath a sleek armored vest that fit snugly over his torso. His outfit was completed by a pair of tailored brown pants that contrasted sharply with the polished Oxford dress shoes on his feet. The shoes, meticulously polished to a mirror finish, added a touch of sophistication to the otherwise utilitarian look.

Joe: “Lewis…”

Lewis: “Joe…”

Both men glared at each other, waiting for the other to say something. Alan, standing off to the side, could feel the tension in the air. His gaze darted nervously between the two, his mind racing as he debated whether to intervene or remain silent.

It was ultimately Lewis who would break the tense silence first.

Lewis: “Why are you here?”

Joe: “I’m here to see Tony.”

Lewis: “Tough luck. He's too busy helping me for you to waste his time.”

Joe: “I’m not here to steal Tony from you or anything.”

Lewis: “Where have I heard that before? Oh, wait. It was the last time you pulled that stunt with me and ripped someone from my team to help you work on your little passion project,” he said, referring to the Rob case Joe was working on as a passion project.

Joe was far from innocent when it came to the tension between him and Lewis. Just as Lewis would go out of his way to burden Joe with extra work, Joe retaliated in kind. He had a habit of pulling resources, like key personnel from the forensics team, away from Lewis’s work to bolster his own investigations. This maneuvering often caused delays for Lewis's team, piling on more work for them.

Mike had confronted Joe about him doing this, warning him that antagonizing Lewis would only escalate things. But, Joe's response was always the same: “He does it to me, so I'm gonna do it to him.” It was a tit-for-tat feud that had been going on for almost as long as they knew each other.

Unfortunately, even though Joe wasn’t here to mess with Lewis this time, the damage had already been done. Lewis didn’t believe him, convinced that Joe’s presence was just another ploy to undermine him. The mistrust between them was so deep that even when Joe was being sincere, Lewis couldn’t see past the history between them.

Joe: “This time it’s different. We’re all working on the same case, we’re working with a university.”

Lewis: “Oh, suuure it’s different this time,” he said sarcastically.

Joe: “Look, it was Tony who called me. There is no alternative motive going on here. So, just let me talk to Tony, and then I’ll fuck off.”

Lewis: “Hmm, no. I don’t think I will let you talk to Tony,” he said with a cocky grin.

Joe took a deep breath through his nose before exhaling through his mouth. It was always like this, Lewis would act with a sense of superiority that was so grading to deal with. He wanted so badly to punch Lewis in the face at this moment, but Joe had enough professional sense to hold back. However, that restraint was dwindling.

Joe: “How about you let me talk to Tony, and I don’t make a scene.”

The cocky smile that had played on Lewis’s face throughout the encounter vanished, replaced by a dark, angry scowl as Joe’s threat. The shift in his expression was immediate, his confidence evaporating into a simmering fury. It was clear that Joe’s words had struck a nerve; Lewis was no longer amused or dismissive.

Lewis: “How about you make a scene, and then me and my boys can’t put cuffs on ya and throw you in a cell for the night. You fucking asshole.”

Joe: “Not the brightest que tip are ya.”

Lewis: “What are you talking about?”

Joe: “Tell me how do you think Chief Murdock would respond if two of his officers started fighting each other, in front of the university enforcers,” Joe said while pointing to a room behind Lewis.

Lewis glanced over his shoulder and noticed a group of enforcers in the adjacent room, engaged in their own conversation. They seemed oblivious to the tense exchange unfolding between him and Joe, their focus entirely elsewhere. Lewis’s eyes flicked back to Joe, finally realizing the threat that was being made.

Joe: “Cause I know what he'd do. It would cause a shitstorm, and you would be going down with me in that mess.”

Lewis: “You wouldn’t… shit. You actually would,” he said, familiar with Joe’s personality.

Lewis started to rub his temples as stress was building within him.

Joe: “Just let me talk to Tony, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Lewis: “Fine, but I’m staying by your side the whole time, so you don’t pull some sort of shit.”

Joe: “Whatever. Lead the way. I just want to get this done and get out of here.”

Lewis grumbled while walking further into the home, with Alan and Joe following behind.

Joe: “While we’re walking, what’s going on here?”

Lewis: “Why should I tell you?”

Joe: “Cause we’re all working on the same thing and sharing information already. No point in hiding from one another.”

Lewis: “You can read it in my report then,” he said, being petty and refusing to answer Joe’s question.

Joe got another surge of annoyance that swelled up inside of him from Lewis' attitude, but he swallowed it back. Alan noticed that Joe was grinding his teeth and could sense the growing frustration in Joe.

The group moved past a cluster of enforcers who were huddled together in a kitchen, talking quietly among themselves. Without pausing, they continued down a long hallway that branched off into numerous rooms. Each room they passed was a showcase of opulence, filled with lavish decorations and priceless paintings that adorned the walls. The attention to detail in the décor spoke of immense wealth and splendor, with every piece of art and furniture meticulously chosen to complement the grandeur of the space.

As they walked, they caught glimpses of forensic teams working diligently in some of the rooms. Spreading fine white powder across surfaces as they searched for fingerprints, their focus was intense as they combed through every inch of the area.

The hallway finally led them into what appeared to be a large study. The room was imposing, with towering bookshelves lining the walls and a massive, intricately carved desk dominating the center.

From where the group stood, they could see someone crouched under the large desk in the study, their knees pressed into the thick carpet, with their back arched and bottom jutting out awkwardly. It was clear that they were searching for something beneath the massive desk. The figure rummaged through the shadows under the desk, their focus entirely on whatever might be concealed there, unaware of the arrival of Joe’s group.

Lewis: “Tony, someone’s here to see you," he called out to the person under the desk.

Bang!

Hearing his name suddenly called out, Tony reacted instinctively, attempting to stand up quickly. However, in his haste, he misjudged the space and slammed his head against the underside of the wooden desk. The impact reverberated through the room with a loud, sharp bang. Tony winced in pain, momentarily disoriented by the force of the blow.

Tony: “OW! Fuck! That hurts!” he yelped as he grabbed his head.

Tony slowly crawled out from beneath the desk, rubbing the sore spot where his head had collided with the wood. As he straightened up, everyone in the room got a clearer look at him. Standing at just 5'5" (1.68 meters), Tony was a short man with a distinctive appearance. The thinning hair on the crown of his head left him with a near-tonsure look, a ring of black and pepper hair framing his scalp. His large glasses magnified his eyes, giving him a somewhat owl-like appearance, as they peered out from behind the thick lenses.

He wore a pair of high-waisted pants held up by suspenders, the fabric slightly wrinkled from hours of wear. A long-sleeved white shirt peeked out from beneath a well-worn brown jacket, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal a bit of fraying at the cuffs. The jacket itself, though aged, still bore the marks of frequent use, its brown color faded and softened from years of wear. Despite his somewhat disheveled appearance, there was an air of diligence about Tony, as a man deeply absorbed in whatever task was at hand.

Tony continued to rub the sore spot on his head, wincing slightly as he tried to soothe the lingering pain. After a moment, he glanced up, his eyes landing on Joe. A wave of relief washed over his face, his tense expression softening immediately.

Tony: “OH! Joe, you're here. I’m glad you came,” he said, happy to see Joe.

Joe and Tony shared a strong bond between them, one built over years of mutual respect and countless instances of Joe lending a hand when Tony needed it most. Their camaraderie had deepened over the years, and Joe had come to regard Tony as a dear friend, on par with his close relationship with Mike.

This friendship was one of the few things that kept Joe from walking away the moment he realized Lewis was involved.

Joe: “What’s going on, Tony? Oh, and by the way, did you analyze that knife I gave you?”

The knife that Joe was referring to was the one he found in Mark's home. Joe hoped that Tony and his team could uncover any hidden clues—whether fingerprints, traces of blood, or other forensic details—that might be useful for Joe. With everything that had happened with the Nighthounds and the university, Joe hadn't had time to follow up with Tony about the knife.

Lewis: “You don’t have to answer that,” he immediately responded, acting like a lawyer defending a client.

Tony glanced back at Lewis and then Joe, unsure of what he should say.

Joe: “Just say yes or no. No details needed.”

Tony: “No, not with everything that has been happening lately. All the different forensic teams had been swamped with work. This whole university thing is eating up all of our time. I haven’t been able to analyze anyone's evidence brought to me, let alone yours. I’m sorry about that.”

Joe: “That’s fine. I get it. So, why did you want to see me?”

Tony: “Um, well, it’s about that,” he said while pointing up at the ceiling.

The entire group glanced upward in unison, their eyes widening as they took in the unexpected sight above them. The ceiling of the study was coated in a strange, translucent, slimy substance that gleamed faintly in the dim light.

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