(Lack of) Control

One of my first posts I made on here was in anger. Or frustration, I guess that is a more accurate word. The post was titled “F#!% you BioWare!” was out of frustration for the game Dragon Age Inquisition (DA:I). Bioware the company behind the Dragon age games also made the Mass Effect games, Mass Effect 2 remains one my favorite games of all time. The Dragon Age franchise of games had also been some of my favorites, even the not so great DA:2 was really enjoyable and I played through it maybe a few to many times. That is high praise indeed I know, so what prompted this change, my love for Bioware suddenly turning to anger. I know being angry with Bioware is pretty much the norm now For me it was a bit different, I.couldn’t play DA:I. I could not move the player character. A small change in the control scheme made it impossible for me to play. Those controls were locked on PC and I can’t play on console. Here’s the thing I’m disabled, basically I can (mostly) only play using the mouse. Bioware had for some reason chosen to lock the actions of the mouse button. I was mad, not that I couldn’t play the game, I’m used to that. I now realize I was mad because I thought I could play and I couldn’t. My expectations were shattered. I knew I could play Dragon Age and was looking forward to play My game when other games are a gamble or just plain impossible for me. In the end I played through DA:I with some annoying phenagiling and workarounds but my experience was tainted and I never truly enjoyed my time in Thedas. Something good came out of it though. I wrote my final thesis for my university degree about accessibility in video games. Fast forward to today. Video Games have the same problems for me. Seems like things are changing, slowly but surely. I see colorblind settings in most AAA titles and pretty extensive ones at that. Subtitles are getting better as well. Seems like accessibility options are getting more mainstream. Doesn't’ help me personally. Then a big development happened (fairly recently). Microsoft came out with the Xbox Adaptive Controller. Announced back in 2018. The controller lets you connect any 3rd party device to one the many usb ports. Letting you customize this xbox controller in any way you need. This still confines you to a pc or xbox for your gaming. Compared to no choices at all that is huge. So I bought the thing as soon as I was able, I must confess the hype got to me. The controller got a lot of buzz on the back of its Superbowl ad. Now I have the thing but then the question becomes what to do with it. The controller is nothing on its own, it is very simple and barebones. It is meant to be customized, to be adapted to my needs. With a little research on Microsoft website and some help from google, I found the Quadstick controller. A joystick designed for Quadrapeligecs. Makes it possible to play most anything only by using your mouth and face. Combined with the Adaptive Controller it would give me access to pretty much every Xbox and PC game. If I can set it up right. So I bought one. That is only the start of a journey. Now comes the hard part. Setting everything up and getting the software up and running. Then learning and mastering the Quadstick. I set a lofty goal, I want to beat a From Software game, From games have a reputation for being some of the most difficult games. If I can beat a Dark Souls game or even Sekiro, I should be able to play almost anything. I probably won’t be playing a new Dragon Age game anytime soon though.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 11

11 - Veneer

Not very it turned out.

The veneer of sophistication and class was as thin as the week old chipped polish

on my nails.        

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 10

10 - The Menagerie 

When I left the Neon Diner It had gotten late and I still had a job to do even if I’d just been roped into another mystery, I couldn’t abandon Nora. She was actually paying me.
I had agreed to meet Stark at the morgue the next morning to look at the body. I had asked to borrow a black light from the precinct in return, the request had surprised Stark but he agreed to it without hesitation. That’s what friends a for, I guess.
To think that just this morning I had been bored out of my mind with no jobs and nothing to do other than daydrinking the day away. Now it felt like there weren’t enough hours in the day. I guess when it rains it pours.     
Speaking of. It had begun to rain in earnest. Not as bad as expected. Not that I mind either way, I like the rains. It was a constant light fall obscuring the city’s uglier parts making it a sleek neon and water soaked beauty. I still had time so I walked through the city heading to Nora’s place of employment, hoping that her shift wasn’t over.

I found my way to the address she had given me, it was on the westside in the Boiling Pot.
It wasn’t quite mainstreet but Nora’s club was not far from the hustle of downtown.
The neighborhood had gotten its name after a showdown between the Firebreather and the Superior Seven, the fight had turned the water in all the water towers to steam. After the fight the locals nicknamed their home the Boiling Pot. The name stuck and now the investors doing all the gentrification use it. Sounds neat I guess and it helps with appeasing the less inclined of the locals.
The Boiling Pot was one of those former rundown neighborhoods that would have been scary just a few years ago. Now the gentrification had made it a home to coffee shop chains and hipsters. Well, it wasn’t quite there yet, the makeover had been quick and some of the old was still visible under the surface. The new really just a thin veneer.   
The club was the same thing, part of the old school trying to fit into the new, and failing.
A big neon sign.read The Menagerie in purple letters next to a picture of bird in a cage also in neon. It probably hadn’t changed since neon signs were invented.
The signs boasted live music, drinks and beautiful woman. A couple of goons in ill-fitting suits were hanging out in front. Old school.
Looked like a nice place at first glance. Well it tried very hard to look classy. It worked at least on the outside. I went inside to find out exactly how deep the surface level of class really went.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 9

9 - History

“Let’s not go there” I gave him a small smile that I didn’t really mean or put effort into. Ancient history, Ha, doesn’t feel that ancient. Call it what it really is, trauma, that’s what he meant. Hell, I was past it but somethings you never get over. My ‘history’ with metas and masks, almost killed me. It broke my heart and a lot of bones. Stark knew my rules and where they came from. I don’t work meta cases. And I don’t talk about her, about Julia. But I couldn’t get mad at him. Stark really/truly cared but he didn’t know the whole story, I couldn’t tell him. tell anyone for that matter, And when I say that. I mean I’m not allowed to. That story is burrowed deep in some D.O.D vault guarded by a forest of red tape, top secret beyond black. Stark had read my service record, the non-redacted one. He knew I lost someone and that I blamed myself. Classic survivors guilt I’m told. Call it whatever you want.But this wasn’t it. This case was not about me. I could help with this. Couldn’t hurt, right? “If you ever want to talk. About her. About anything. I’m alway here. You know that right?”“Yeah. yeah” I remembered Julia. “Thanks”. I said and gave him a honest smile and meant it. 

“About the case” I said, wanting to change to the subject  “Can’t tell you anything you don’t already know, not really. But we can solve this we’re not half bad you know” I took a sip of my coffee, realizing it had gone cold.“Yeah I know, I just hoped you knew more about him, thought you knew who he was” He said rubbing his forehead,“Is that what this is? You thought that I knew who he was and that I’d tell? Give up his identity. You know how dangerous that is. Illegal too” I responded, surprised.“I know the rules” he replied “You aren’t above breaking a few”“Bending” I corrected.  “Well I don’t know. So there, but we can do without” I said honestly.

The rules Stark was talking about was the Masked Hero Act. You see the rules in our state, our city, is a bit different than in the rest of country. The masked heroes patrolling our city are important. Not for security, not really. Don’t get me wrong, they do good and make people feel safe. No if you ask me the good they do is probably matched by the bad they attract. The freaks that hound our city looking for a challenge. But that is not it, Millenium City IS the city of heroes. People come from all over to watch the metas in bright colors fly through the skyline. We need them, we can’t be Millenium City without them. So the city passed the Masked Hero Act back in the 80ties. It makes life a bit harder for people like Stark and myself. The law, in the words of our illustrious politicians, is there to “protect the privacy of the individual that choose to wear a mask and protect our great city”.

Basically it means powered vigilantism was legalised and has been legal for over 20 years. It means that all criminal cases involving masks and metas goes to the Major Crimes taskforce. It also made it illegal to run fingerprints or blood from masked heroes, only F.A.T.E agents can do that. Meaning that it is illegal to reveal the identity of superheroes. Makes cases like this very delicate. Stark didn’t want to lose his job, get sued or worse. He was a cop, a good one. Real police. above all he wanted to solve this thing. I knew the mystery gnawed at him as much as it did me. I could help, screw my self imposed rules and pity. A man was dead.“How can I help? Anything. Just don’t make me do something super illegal” I said    

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 8

8 - Legends

“He could fly right, we don’t have a list of his powers. We don’t know much about him actually. You pulled his file way back when, you’ve read it”I eyed him suspiciously “How do you know about that?”“I know people too” he smiled“Sure, don’t tell me” I said “Those files are not worth the paper it is printed on. It is redacted as hell and it won’t tell you anything useful anyway. It is just his legend” I said with old resentment.“His legend?” Stark asked“Sorry, craft talk old habit.” I said
“His cover, his persona. It is the identity the company gives you, makes up. Just a story you tell. It’s what they call the lie you tell. Makes it sound more noble I guess… It is to protect you, the lies. It is what you tell your family, your friends” I looked at him forlorned. “Or the thing you hide behind, to infiltrate, to turn or to get what you want.” I still sounded bitter.
“I’ve had a few legends, you don’t even know all the things I did over there” Not about you, Rain. Focus..
“I digress. With metas the term applies I think. We make them legends, it makes them more than humans. Makes us normal boots on the ground feel safe. Makes the enemy more scared of us. It is a good piece of counter intelligence really. If any outside forces gets their paws/hands on the intel all they get is a scary story, a myth, a legend” I said.“So our files are as good as theirs” Stark grumbled. “Better even” I smiled “sorry not helping”"Listen" I said “All I’m saying is, if it says he’s bulletproof you have to take it for what it is, a story. Not the facts. Trust the evidence. He sure as hell can bleed we know that.” “Yeah, tell me about it” He said. “I’m sure there is a file out there with all the dirty secrets but that was way above my paygrade. I don’t think the really big guns even have to tell the government anything if they don’t want to, I mean what's gonna happen? they’ll get arrested I don’t think so” I said“Hmm, I’ll go on what we then, which isn’t much. This one is good at keeping his secrets, Rain” He said.“They all are” I said “I’ll help if I can”“I appreciate it, but I can manage you don’t have to drench up ancient history, I know how hard that can be” He said

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 7

7 - Torch

 Stark took a sip of his coffee. Then he revealed a case file from his coat.
“You have a strong stomach if I recall?” he said
“Mmm hm” I nodded at him, while I stuffed my face. In an adorable way, I thought. 
“Alright, it is your lunch” he pushed the file to my side of the table.
Crime scene photos, a body, blood and death. I breathed in deeper. So much blood.

I Wiped my hands and looked through the file. “What am I looking at?” I said
“You knew him right?” Stark said
I knew him, sure. Anyone would. I was looking at the Torch, one of the greatest heroes in Millenium City. Ok he wasn’t Captain Tomorrow but still he was well known and well liked. And now he was dead it seemed. Died bad too. Hell, who doesn’t.
.
I knew The Torch in the war, he was a guardian angel to us. Saved my life once.
I saw him take an RPG to the chest in the sand box without getting a scratch. But no one survives war without a scratch, without scars no matter how powerful or special you are. Even if they say time heals all wounds. I’ve found that time is not the best of nurses. You’ll always keep your scars, as a silent reminder, invisible just under your skin.
The Torch must’ve had them too. It seems time didn’t heal his wounds, it just caught up to him. The Torch had been in one fight too many. Now he lay dead in gutter.
A shame but that is where most heroes journeys usually ends. Forgotten in a back alley whoever you were washed away only the mask rememaining. 
“Damn” I drawled

I realised that I had been rubbing the back of my right shoulder for a while. Massaging old scar tissue left from when I got my tattoo removed. A reminder of my service that I’d rather forget. Disguising it as scratching my arm. I quickly took my hand away. Embarrassed. Stark was looking at me. Concerned.

“Yeah I knew him. Doesn’t everybody? I’m not sure what you from me here.” I said
“Maybe you stayed in touch” He asked
“You know I didn’t” I said
“Well you are a detective and your history makes you an expert on powers, metas. Whether you like it or not” he knew I didn’t like it.
“Well I’m not the cop here, you are, but I mean you don’t really need an expert to solve this.” I made giant air quotes at the word expert.
“It is just meta on meta violence right? It is not some sort of big mystery is it. Some meta criminal or powered punk got the better of him. What am I not getting here?” I asked. 
“It was murder.” Stark said. His voice somber, serious, honest. I listened. “No sign of a struggle, no big fight. No villain. No one knows he’s dead yet”  He said.
I pointed at the crime scene photo, all that blood.. “No struggle, huh?” I said, mostly to myself.
Must have hit an artery, didn’t even know he could be cut like that . He fell from the sky, apparently. A lot of high rise apartment buildings in that neighborhood. He was right not much crime there. Why were he there? Who or what could get the drop on him like that?     
“Check the rooftops around the crime scene, I think he fell from there. You might find something there”. I said.
“We did. Rain the amount of blood reads like anger or revenge to me. Crime of passion or affect at least.” He said.
I nodded, he continued.
“But the method indicates planning, premeditated. Murder. It must have been someone he knew. I don’t think a meta did it, Rain. I don’t know who, why or even how. I don’t his powers are and what could do that to him” He pointed at all the blood. “Need your help Rain, if  I knew who he really was my life would be so much easier”
“Alright you got me, I’ll help. Too curious not to at this  point” I said
Dammit Rain remember what killed the cat. Remember your rules.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 6

6 - Neon

The theme from the Pink Panther apparated from my back pocket. I scooped out my phone. How did I not put it on vibrate, getting rusty are we Rain. The screen read “Stark”. Damn. What did he want.
I picked up the phone and wedged it between my chin and shoulder.
“Rain” I said a tad too curtly “ I’m busy. What do you want?”
“And a good day to you too” came the gruff voice of detective Murphy Stark of Millenium City Major Crimes division. “I got something, I could use your help on”
I started stuffing the file into the bag on my hip.
“I’m on a job, and last I checked the MCPD doesn’t pay consultants” I responded. In truth it was nice to hear his voice. But I was not kidding about the money. I had to pay my rent after all. 
“A favor then? It’s a delicate case and I could really need a woman’s delicate touch on this”
“flattery won’t get you anywhere with me Stark. You know I’m strictly a material girl.” 
“I’ll buy you lunch then how about that? Well dinner I guess. I promise you, you’ll want to see this. It is one for the history books” He said.
He was teasing but I could tell how serious he was about whatever this was.
“Is that right?” I said coyly, “Tell you what I’ll give you 5 minutes. Neon Diner in 20? your treat” 
“Already on my way” He said. “Knew you couldn’t resist my charms”
“Bye Stark” I said with exaggerated chipper joy.
“Rain” he respond and the line clicked off.
What harm could there be in giving the police 5 minutes of my time. He wouldn’t rope me into anything. He was  a friend and I’m never one to pass up a free meal.

The street was obscured by mist. Rain was in the air but the rainfall hadn’t started in earnest yet. The red neon sign emerged from the mist like some …..
I pulled my coat closer, I liked the rains. The neon sign spells “Neon Diner” in bold stylized 80’s letters. The 24 hour diner was located in a second floor concrete overhang overlooking a monorail
I didn’t care much for the theme but the food wasn’t half bad and it was close to the 5th precinct station house.

I walked up the old iron stairs. I could hear the hum of electricity from the old transformers and the rattle of wheels on rail. The  monorail and public transportation was a proud tradition in Millenium City. Old, neglected. proud.
I entered the Diner through the frosted glass door accompanied by the chirp of the attached bell.
Inside was the thick delightful smell of coffee and grease. The low rattle of kitchen bustle and 80s classics. And they were playing Toto. I couldn't help but smile. 

The waitress was a plucky middle aged tired woman, crows feet and wrinkles at the corners of her mouth from smiling. A pair of reading glasses in a string around her neck. Dirty apron with a notepad and a couple of pencils in the pocket.
“What will it be?” she asked, pencil in hand.
“Coffee, black” said Stark in a practiced monotone.
She turned to me “What about you sweety?” 
I eyed Stark. Then smiled at the waitress and put down the dingy menu.
“Steak & Eggs, fries of course. A chocolate shake. Coffee, milk, foam and lots of cinnamon. oh and give me some of that hot sauce on the if you don’t mind. Thanks” I said smiling gleefully.
Stark looked at me like he was trying to conjure dormant laser vision to fry me. I just give him a knowing look. He did say this was his treat. What can I say.
“I’ll have a piece of the cherry pie then” Stark added as the waitress was about to leave.
“Coming right up” she said, walking to the kitchen. 

I turned back to Stark.
“So what's up” I asked “not a social call you said”
“It's been a long time” he said “how are you doing?” 
“You know. Keeping on, keeping on” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously “You are stalling” I said “why?”
The gruff old man looked at me earnestly. “All business huh, Rain. Can’t two old friends just catch up?” Stark said “He worries about you you know”
An old anger began to rear its ugly head. “Dad sent you!? Really” I all but yelled.
Calm down Rain, that squeaky tone doesn’t suit you. “And you use work as an excuse” I shock my head at him. “I could just go, you know,  I don’t need this”
“You won’t and you do” he simply said and we both knew how right he was.

The waitress appeared to have impeccable timing as she swooped in to save us from old resentments. My dad managed to fuck things up without even being present. That just great.
The waitress gave Stark his pie and coffee and I got my drinks. “I’ll be right back with your food in a second. Is everything else fine?” She asked
“Just peachy” I said  “Thanks”
I took a long sip of my shake, closing my eyes as the cold chocolatey liquid of joy filled my chest. A sigh of content escaped me. I looked up at a smiling Stark. I quickly put down my drink, embarrassed. I must have looked like a little kid.
Well I felt like a petulant child for snapping at him like that.
“Sorry about that” I said and meant it, “It’s just… Well he could talk to me directly instead of getting his friends to bribe me with chocolate” I pushed the straw around my in shake. “not that I’m complaining about the chocolate, mind you”
“He wants to give you your space.” Stark said
“Space, Yeah, he’s good at space” I grumbled. You’re doing it again Rain. “Sorry”
“Ha” He said. “Something funny?” I said
“You are your father’s daughter all right, that is for sure. there is only one person I know more stubborn than Jonathan Lake” he stabbed a finger at me. I made a face. He laughed again and I couldn’t help but smile.

The rest of my food arrived and I got stuck in.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 5

5 - Blacklight

The file on the desk was an audit of Russalka Ltd, a holding company that included some small shipping and import/export businesses. It was full of boring accountant stuff, in neat precise columns. Math and numbers was never my thing but as far as I could see there was nothing out of the ordinary here. If Russalka was one of Sergey Tarasov’s companies and by extension the mob’s then there had to be more to it. Russalka had to be a shell.
Why hide it in a locked drawer. What were you up to Clay?. Without thinking  I had been fiddling with the marker I found, I decided to check if it worked and scribbled a bit on the paper. Nothing happened. Well no scribbles on paper at least. Why keep a pen that doesn’t work in your desk. I looked at it closely, turned the pen over in my fingers. On the side of it in big bold letters, UV - 2, RED.
I knew it.
Of course. Sometimes I think I might be too dumb to be in the detective business. The pen was a UV pen, it UV ink in red apparently. Only visible under blacklight.
I looked at the seemingly empty whiteboard with new understanding. Invisible ink. That was some real spy shit. All the clues I needed right there hidden in plain sight. Something was definitely going on here.
Like I said curiouser and curiouser, and just like Alice I tumbled down the rabbit hole.   
Damn, how was I going to get my hands on a blacklight

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 4

4 - Rusalka

It turned out Clay was an accountant, a good one with a nice office, probably with good health benefits including dental I would imagine. Other than that his office didn’t give me much to go on. I mean why would anyone want to hurt a boring accountant. Definitely not for money or notoriety but if Nora was to believed his disappearance had sinister motives and other than my own cynicism I didn’t have any reason to doubt her. On the other hand accountants follow the money for living maybe he had found something he wasn’t supposed to. The people that hide their money usually isn’t the nicest people.
I still thought this case was pretty much an open and shut. Boyfriend with cold feet or a cheating bastard either way common, easy. I wasn’t looking forward to telling Nora whenever I would find my suspicion to be truth/fact. I don’t enjoy getting paid in misery but honestly it is better to know, however devastating the truth might be.
Thing is I learned a long ago, that you have to set aside your own pre drawn conclusions and feelings to find the truth, the real truth, not just your own idea of the truth.
Data is a detective’s best friend, but I didn’t have much evidence to tell me anything about Clay Brand. I had to get to know this man if I wanted to get anywhere fast.

His office was neat and sparse, practical. A nice wooden desk, not unlike my own, facing the door. A comfortable office chair on wheels behind the desk-
To the side were file cabinets and behind the desk on the wall was a whiteboard complete with coloured markers. On the desk was a couple of flat and sleek computer monitors. 
Not much here. I rummaged through what I could. His laptop was not anywhere to be found. There was nothing on the desk really other than neatly stacked office supplies. No nic nacs or personal memorabilia, pictures or anything. Nothing of the man who works here other than a name plaque. I thought it was customary to have a picture of your loved ones on your desk or at least your dog or something. Even I have a picture of my mom on my desk.   

His desk drawers was locked and so was the file cabinet. The whiteboard was wiped clean.
I took out my phone from my pocket, turned on the flashlight option and went over the whiteboard. Nothing, and I mean nothing. Not even a smudge of wiped off colored writing. Like it was never used. Why have a whiteboard in your office if you never use it. And yes I checked the markers, they all worked. Alright maybe the office came with the thing and Clay just wasn’t a whiteboard guy or the cleaners cleaned it and did a really thorough job. It was odd but it could be just that odd. Well then, Clay, let’s check out that locked desk of yours.

The drawers on the desk was nice thick wood with locks on each one. I could try to pick the locks, it would be a shame to break such a nice desk. In the end, after a second of deliberation with myself my impatient side won out. I admit it is not one of my best qualities. So yeah, I broke open the desk, sue me. If Clay really was in trouble I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the damage and I could always pay him back.   
I found a couple of files in manilla folders, I put them on top of the desk in a neat pile. Physical papers in physical folders, old cool. I was starting to see why Nora liked this guy. Another felt marker pen was tucked into the back of the bottom drawer. I put it with the papers on the desk. Next was the file cabinet. The lock broke easily. It was full of neatly packed papers in alphabetical order. That was great if I had any idea of what I was looking for. I closed the cabinet and went to the desk. Something on floor caught my eye. A photograph, it must have falling out from behind one the drawers in the desk.
On it was two men shaking hands looking all buddy buddy. Someone had been nice enough to write their names on the back of the photograph, Clay I imagine. The man to the left was Trent Sterling of Sterling Accounts I gathered.
The other I knew before I read his name. Sure enough that was Sergey Tarasov. the man was basically the Russian mob. Friends with all the right people. The police didn’t dare to touch him. He was careful to never be directly involved in anything illegal. He was a dirtbag but basically human teflon nothing ever stuck. Okay so maybe Nora was right to be worried if Clay was looking into the russian mob and his boss was part of said mob. Ugh, Clay might be in over his head.
There was another note on the photograph. Clay had scribbled the word Russalka under the two names. I was becoming more and more curios. That was a mistake, one in a long line of mistakes. Story of my life.