Location: Corwith Yard
High above the ground of Corwith Yard a spotlight came to life on the underside of a steel black drone, the blinding light washing out the emblem emblazoned along the undercarriage with it. As the man focused directly in the light staggered, two more drones’ spotlights came online. These two swung in a pattern across the yard, simultaneously drowning out and casting deep shadows as they ran the length of the meeting space. It was a rather wide open space for a railyard, set to the side of a small paved service path for vehicles. There were two already parked there, and as the lights swivelled across the gathering of half a dozen men one broke and ran towards them.
“Those fucking freaks are here, get the fuck in-” His words cut off as the car was thrown in the air, beneath it a giant clawed hand made of shadow surging up. The metal flipped through the air repeatedly before landing, upside down, on the other - crushing them together. Not that the thug could see it, considering the giant shadow claw had just swatted him like a bug backwards before disappearing into the shadows once more. The man hit the dirt and didn’t get back up.
“Now now, you’re not going to want to miss tonight’s special report! That’s right, it’s
A Spotlight On Crime, with your host: Grim!”
Shadows coalesced into a swirling puddle atop one of the cargo containers that caged the area in, and the speaker on the main drone echoed with a showy drumroll. The owner of the booming voice rose from this puddle, the top of a black hood, then the fiercely glowing red eyes and mouth of a metal mask. The long black coat swirled around his legs as he stepped forth, raising his hands as though to hold off applause.
A shot rang out. Then another. A third went wide as the two rotating spotlights swivelled to cover the gang of thugs, blinding them as they tried to end the threat quickly. The puddle of shadow however had leapt up with inhuman speed, crossing in front of Grim. The bullets seemed to just disappear into the darkness of it - only for one of the men to scream as the shadows beneath his feet spit out a bullet into the bottom of his foot, - another man’s shadow barely missing him.
“Stop, stop-!”
The spotlights suddenly cut off, and like a guillotine a solid block of shadow swept forth from underneath one of the cargo containers, taking out the five standing men at the ankles and contorting over the already downed man. The weapons they dropped disappeared into their own shadows, vanishing as if they were never there.
“Ooo, another hard hitting interview!” The spotlights came back on as the shadowy portal in front of Grim dropped. He stepped forward onto empty air, and immediately a shadow snapped forward from the cargo container to cross in front of him in a solidified step. Then another, and another, the staircase disappearing behind him as he strolled to the ground.
“Now gentlemen, let’s show some restraint! It’s not polite to use range when your poor, defenseless opponent has none. Come now, pick yourselves up and let’s get the exclusive coverage on this incident!”
The first man never got back up, but it made little difference as one by one four others fell. Tripped, punched, clawed, an overall victim to their own inescapable shadow. It was only as the last man
once more tried to flee that Grim gave pause, going into a sweeping bow in his direction.
“Thank you everyone for joining me tonight. This is your host Grim, signing off with a bang!”
… The fleeing man promptly was tripped by his own solidifying shadow, and slammed face first into the storage container he was going to duck behind. He passed out cold, head ringing.
In the quiet that followed the fight and performance, the dog hero Grim slowly straightened out. The spotlights continued to lazily circle the area, but he wasn’t worried. The dramatics of Grim were well known, and police were either on their way already or trusted him to handle it until they could become available.
Which left Grim, or more accurately Zoey, curious. She had not come here by chance, not really. When you end up in the streets enough, and become enough of a known element, you get certain information through various avenues. In this case, it was from a known pimp swearing up and down all his girls were there by choice and please don’t break his face - even if he
wanted the heat trafficking would bring, the local ‘supplier’ had turned down all recent buyers.
Now that
was something to be curious about.
And what a coincidence that she had meandered over to find the leftovers of what appeared to be trade off, judging from the banter of the men now swept out behind her. Grim had come by just in time to see them locking up a particular cargo container, marking a corner with a sharpie. It’d be a shame if a person just happened to take out the gang, then wandered over and unlocked the cargo container-
Even with the mask Grim choked as the air swept out, gagging briefly. He turned his head, allowing a moment for it to air before finally turning those glowing eyes forward.
”...Fuck.” The spotlights swept along the railyard at Grim’s back, providing shifting slices of light that lit up the interior. Even without them Grim’s eyes just swept along the sight, right to the darkest corners of this macabre scene. There were smears of blood along the walls -some with the distinctive shape of fingers-, shreds of clothing, and a whole discarded shirt crusted with rust dry blood. In the corner was the stench that had struck so harshly: a pile of human waste and throw up. Whoever was in here wasn’t even afforded a
bucket.
As the hero stepped in, one hand on the edge of the cargo container’s sliding door, the rough texture scraping against his glove caught his attention. Turning to the locking mechanism that faced the inside, his heart plummeted. All around this side of the door, surrounding the lock that couldn’t be opened, were small marks. Scratches grooved into the metal. Dried blood sunk into the valleys. Nails that were ground down in desperate clawing measures until there was nothing left but to scrape layer after layer of skin from their fingertips.
Grim could almost hear the phantom screams.
A coughing dragged his attention away mercifully, and slowly the dog hero pivoted to look back at the men spread across the floor and rails. The bald man coughed again, body convulsing with the pain surging through his body. Grim’s uncaring mask looked down upon him.
The spotlights on the drones went out.
He thrust his hand forward, and surging forth with the motion a giant, clawed hand of pure shadow erupted from beneath the cargo container’s wheels. There was barely a hint of scream from the man before the claw crushed the choked air from his lungs, the scream of denting metal making a bigger impact as he was thrown into the container.
“Where are they?” The playful lilt in the deep voice had disappeared. Now it rumbled through the air with menace, low and dangerous. The bald man gasped, but still glared defiantly.
“Go fuck yourself.”
The shadow claw reached in once more, the clawed tips ripping a scream from the man’s throat as they grabbed onto his leg and dragged him back, struggling and flailing, to the entrance of the cargo container. Yet rather than drag him fully out it stopped just as the man’s ankle was over the threshold, hanging off the edge.
In the man’s confusion and disorientation, Grim grabbed the door of the cargo container and threw it shut with all his strength against the man’s ankle with a sickening crack.
As the scream pierced the air the container’s door was pulled open again, and in the darkness that now permeated Corwith Yard the red glow of Grim’s eyes and mouth
burned. He waited a moment, allowing the screams to continue for a full ten, agonizingly slow seconds. Then he gripped the door again, moving to once more slam it closed.
“Wait, wait! Oh my god, we just - we just handed them off. We were just meant to transport them!”
“What are they being used for?” The man stared incomprehensibly, flaring heat deep in the hero’s belly. Grim lunged forward, shadows leaping to his fingers in a mimicry of the giant claw so that points dug into the bald man’s face, drawing blood as he was wrenched to look at the scratches in the metal. It was a useless gesture, the heavyset man unable to see in the deep darkness but his fingers scrabbling at the wrist at his face desperately. “I’ve seen
rodents being transported with more concern about their well-being! You wouldn’t damage your merchandise this badly if they were going to become working girls. What. Are. They. Being.
Used For?!”
“They… They said as long as they were alive it didn’t matter what state they was in!” Grim finally released his grip, allowing the man a reprieve. He sobbed at the masked hero’s feet, but all that Grim did was pivot to step out of the container with one final question.
“Where was the drop off?”
“Here. It was here. They came in vans, took ‘em and left.”
The thoughtful hum reverberated in Grim’s mask like a predator’s growl. He raised a hand, and from the darkness of the container two hands of pure shadow reached out to grab onto the unwilling informant, yanking him deeper into the container. Across the scene of the railyard, men sunk into the shadows and were ejected out of them inside the container, some gasping and beginning to stir. Others remained still.
“I’m sure someone heard my performance, I’m not exactly subtle. The police will find you eventually as they check out the scene.”
“What - wait, don’t-”
“And if you get a little claustrophobic waiting, you can always try clawing your way out.”
The cargo container’s door shut with a clang of metal on metal, and the drones overhead changed path to resume patrol over the city once more.
Midna-Phobia