New Meridian was a city of many faces. At its apex was a gilded facade, stuffed to the brim with cinema, showtime, martinis, penthouses, lightshows, and business. Of course, there was also the negative: the Medicis, the fraud, the extortion, the intimidation, and other such abnormalities more pleasant for those at the top to ignore. Even the throes of organized crime, at least, were glamorous. Below the pinstriped cigar-chompers were their less cultured brethren, no more villainous but far less efficient, whose perpetual duty it was to ensure that the backalleys and slums and warehouses of New Meridian were inhospitable places for man and beast. It was in those conditions, the cesspools of the city be their contents criminal or not, that the hierarchy of law was forced to operate.
To be sure, much of the police force in New Meridian was -at best- a bad joke. Even a department that survived by allowing the big fish to have their way was swamped with trouble caused by the small fry. As such, the valiant NMPD only poked its head out of its shell for serious cases, and the reprehensible underbelly of the city knew how to operate it. Unbelievable it was, then, that there were still some police officers trying to stick to the code and make a difference.
Not for the first time, detective Camilia Henry wished that she wasn't one of those cops. Trouble was, this time she worried something fierce that this time it would be her last; she was running for her life, after all.
Breathing heavily and heart pounding against her ribcage like a bongo drum, Camilia ducked behind a dumpster. The smell didn't exactly appeal to her, but compared to forcible disembowelment pretty much anything was appealing. Under her breath, the tawny-haired detective vehemently cursed the Black Egrets. They were, after all, why she was here. The Canopy Kingdom's number-one anti-parasite task force had a lot on its plate, so whenever a particular case seemed uncertain, the communications staff seemed very willing to delegate the investigations down to the local police department, which the chief had delegated to Camilia. And now, a raincoat-wearing girl with four massive bony arms growing out of her back wanted her in pieces.
Camilia heard footsteps against the asphalt, and wished that she had been able to run farther. Unfortunately, with a gut like this, the detective ruefully thought, Ain't no way I'm gonna get far enough. For the millionth time she wondered where backup was—she had radioed the Black Egret's local com officer, saying that yes, the investigation was going well, the suspect was indeed a parasite's host, only now she wanted to beat the detective bloody for disturbing her. “Sorry, we're getting a lot of these calls right about now,” had been the gist of the operator's response, so Camilia figured that she was in trouble.
There came a noise several meters away, but rather than the girl shouting, 'Ah-hah, I've found you, say your prayers', it was a surprised cry followed by the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle. Suddenly hopeful, Camilia heaved herself to her feet to get a better look, and instantly wished that she hadn't. Wrestling with the parasite's host tooth and nail was a creature far ghastlier, a corpselike being cloaked in black with a clockwork arm. As Camilia watched, the ghoul dealt a piston-powered punch to the girl that sent her reeling, and just like that, the fight was reversed. Realizing the precious frailty of life, the girl departed in a haste, using her extra arms to ascend the building. The monster lurched forward to follow, but abruptly whirled around when Camilia ventured to draw a breath. She stared at its black eyes and corroded bronze faceplate, looking with revulsion at the perpendicular scars on its chest and the open vertical cut all along its belly. She knew it only by local legend, but whether it was the Headsman, the Scourge, the Cleaner, or just 'Grumm' she had no idea. “You're...not...Egrets...are you?” Camilia managed, her formerly-dulcet tones quavering in suppressed fear.
In reply, the ghoul hacked up a wad of foamy yellow bile. When it hit the pavement, it sizzled slightly, and Grumm -bent over double by the force of its vomit- observed it for a brief moment. Then it straightened up, holding its clockwork had to the side of its head as if it were trying to think. “Egrets sent me,” it grumbled in a guttural voice that reverberated through the metal that partially covered its mouth. “Are you a parasite?”
In all her life, Camilia had never considered such a question, but the answer was easily enough obtained. Still, she answered with hesitation, as if she couldn't believe that Grumm's axe wasn't already lodged in her sizable stomach. “...no. I'm not a...no.”
Seemingly satisfied, or at least no longer in a murderous mood, Grumm turned away and fell flat on its face. Half a minute past before the thing pushed itself to its feet. Camilia got the impression that the event was less run-of-the-mill clumsiness, and more like Grumm's muscles briefly failing. With its back turned to her, she couldn't see very well what it did, but four mechanical tentacles the size of anacondas emerged from its torso, latched onto the face of the building that the parasite-hosting girl had scaled, and rapidly ferried Grumm upward in pursuit. Camilia might have sunk back to the ground in a mixture of relief and confusion, but the stench of the dumpster was unpleasant enough to send her packing, shaking her head in disbelief. Perhaps the Cleaner was one of those things best forgotten.
