RIPLEY

Chapter 1 (Once Upon A Time)

CALLAHAN

Central Park hasn't been busier before.

The skies in New York City looked pretty much like death. Its slightest shade of gray, appearing like thick oozes of powdery fog, reflecting the concentrating gray eyes of Detective Callahan who- as he see it - was running his gaze to death himself, or more like a result of its work. Callahan has never been hungrier before, growing more and more eager than he has ever been, looking for any evidence or two.

The body laid before him has its limbs in different places, legs inwardly twisted, his mouth agape. Neither had he expected that he would come across and study Inspector Alvarez, a Venezuelan intelligent who worked for the American Police gods- the best of the best, the badasses among the badasses. Not even once had he dreamed of seeing this face masked on Alvarez, almost looking like he had already given up- a look of fear. Seeing Alvarez like this made him wish for calmer death for himself, a death that is neither painful nor penetrable. But none of it reaches Callahan's face, not one emotion. Perhaps it is why he's so good in his job.

"Sir?" A voice from behind him spoke.

Callahan turned, facing a lanky black police guy, (more like an intern as he observes), his glasses resting on the crook of his nose seemingly on the verge of slipping, probably because it is already bigger than his face needs. "Yes?"

The guy cleared his throat, "Sir, under an order clearly stated by Police General Black, only legal authorities are allowed in. I'm sorry sir but this is a crime scene, we highly expect your consideration." The guy turned red, he said it in flash as if reading a handbook in monotone.

"Interesting." He muttered to himself. He supposed General Black hasn't informed his men for his sudden arrival. Then he remembered how often their own English General commented on his choice of outfit (which consists of trousers worn almost in daily basis, and overcoat appearing like a picked-out-second-hand from Walmart). Through his two fingers he delved through his top pocket revealing an I.D.

The guy stared at it for a moment before finally realizing his mistake, resulting for his eyes to combust figuratively "Detective Callahan," he whispered at himself. Blushing, he turned to Callahan and saluted as respect. He then turned to his heel, trying to walk away from the detective as far as possible before he ordered him to take a brief halt on the middle of his scheme.

He seems to be looking straight at him as if figuring something, "Those glasses, where did you get those?"

The guy looked lost and confused, head turning elsewhere as trying to find his long lost knight to save him from dying from embarrassment, "Doctor's recommendation sir."

Right. He narrowed his eyes further to the guy, making him flinch. Then he smiled, "I just want to make sure your eyesight was appropriate for loading this corpse to the gods." He caught the guy's sour reaction which disappeared shortly.

Yes the gods should deal with him. As the supreme indicate for every Police bodies, gods are the only associates that were invisible, literally. They are dwellers of Brooklyn City People's Welfare Center, the biggest in New York. No one are allowed to see them, due to their ability to make enemies as fast as joyride to hell, they are required to stay hidden until they are offered resignation to leave the team and enjoy the rest of their lifetime.

As an aforementioned fact, they are the best, they fight crimes, they help though investigations. Some say they do nothing. Just lie on their backs, receive constant paycheck to serve as mail reader or data processor, but Callahan reckons there is more to them than people thought.

It's just... they liked to work, rather, secretly, so they would not risk their individual identities. They didn't need to be exposed by the public for them to be greater than life. They already fancy themselves by practically handing life to those in the brink of death. It is more than the fame superheroes were getting. He is informed before that there are at least should be five of them.

They're looking for another one.

And that is why he's here.

"You can go now officer." Callahan ordered followed by a salute from the guy before his final disappearance.

He returned his attention to Alvarez. His eyes were now fixed on Alvarez's right hand which is covering Alvarez's unbeating chest. Callahan pulled his already gloved hand forward, moving Alvarez's blocking hand aside, and then there right on the hidden spot is an almost invisible tint of blood that seems to come from underneath Alvarez's shirt.

Callahan swallowed his growing excitement, knowing its wrongness. He never liked Alvarez especially as coworkers but that doesn't mean he welcomed Alvarez's death as his own satisfaction.

Real detectives doesn't feed on the relief that comes after their enemies' death.

He tilt his head, hoping literally for holes.

None. He thought once again. Then hastily he reached to open Alvarez's shirt, revealing an impossibly neat scar that looks like a ring, with something on the middle. Seems like the result of a burnt skin, a scar from a branded flesh. Something that he hasn't really stumbled into.

He pulled a tool from the folds of his overcoat, a late modeled smart glasses for magnifying purposes. He thanked Dr. J.Oringes for this, although he always hated the name. His forefinger touched one of the lenses of Oringes' glasses, as it magnified closer, extending for the scar.

He can see it now.

A ring and a bird perched inside it, its head staring up, and its wings flapping- overlapping from its space from the circle through its curve. Its chest as if inhaling big sizes of oxygen, almost reaching to the other curve of the circle. What kind of bird? He'll never know. But the thing about this scar is it still looked fresh and reddish when it wasn't supposed to appear like it especially when it was yesterday Alvarez was reported dead. As a celebrated detective he would know how long the corpse died based on its physical appearance and the witnesses supporting the hypothesis. But for Alvarez's case, it has to come from a myth to believe his unfortunate state.

Though from the looks of his condition, the victim looks rather more alive than dead.

Based on the records the witnesses specifically informed the Police that it was yesterday that Alvarez was killed which makes sense especially from the destination of his death. But it doesn't make sense why. Why would the suspect publicize his/her effort of killing? How did he/she manage to confuse the victim's body temperature and skin condition when not even the villains had managed to replicate the outcome?

His eyes traveled on the head of the bird, his forefinger followed through tapping to magnify Oringes' lenses further. There, just through the spot of the blood is an eye, deep enough to explain the blood.

Callahan stared for more seconds trying to decipher the source of the scar. His thoughts brimming with hundreds of possibilities.

It could be a new unnamed villain, but villains were not even confident enough to formulate this kind of stunt. Hell, not even daring enough to kill an Inspector on Central Park. Even if some villains with mental disabilities might do it heroes would of course know immediately and come to save the day. Not to mention the Super's growing population of this time. And he's sure it couldn't be a villain because apparently the CGIs haven't reported new appearances yet as checked by the Police gods. And if there are then he could've known he would've been a part of it, though considering he's one of the respected detectives from Europe.

He let his mind wander through hundred of possibilities. If it's not the villains, Inspector could be killed in a more mundane strategy to hide the obvious.

His eyes drank Alvarez's chest again, trying to find something, like a flaw, something that might help with the case. His mind kept skipping back to his old guesses. He's sure it is not just a scar encountered by an accident and he's sure the suspect was not of those vicious assassins. No assassins could leave a scar this rapidly. Perhaps it could be one of the wanted serials, but no, they never carve this type of mark as perfect as the one he's looking at right now.

He pulled out Oringes' eyeglasses, his eyes started to tear up from radiation. One thing about late modeled things, although original- they always have their permanent flaws.

Just like the heroes and their overly revealing powers, always leaving something behind, an annoying indication of their dominance.

Callahan's eyes widened.

He can feel the beating of his heart underneath his late 1900's clothing, he swear he can't even hear anything with its audible sound.

And gladly he knows why.

No one has suspected these guys to be murderers, cause why would they be if they're busy saving the world? Isn't it lucky enough to have powers and to be considered as one of the stars everyone's looking up to?

I mean who would expect a man with a cape and mask whose already saving victims to be one of the guys who could start crisis? I mean who else could defeat a guy like Alvarez?

One thing for sure, the only reason why other officers couldn't decipher the identity of the suspect, is because no one would think a man like superman could do neat dirty works.

It's not a villain, nor was some psychopaths.

It's a bloody hero. And Callahan sure knows they were about to be bloody damned.

...

RILEY

A shrill of urgency and more tapping of foots on the floor.

This is her almost daily beginning in a day, a mere boring routine she hoped she'll never have to attend to someday.

She waited; her toes froze on the ground as her eyes fixed on the door for IT classes. The crowd swarmed around her, responding for the next period's bell. She wondered how they can stand these boring days. Listen, write, read, homework, go home, go to parties, sleep, then wake up again. All of it is always so boring, one of the reasons why she badly needs to get outta here as soon as possible.

When crowds of students started to get thin, she started making her way towards the Recognition Tablet just attached beside IT room's door- A small fingerprint detector almost wearing the size of the early 20's Iphone, used to recognize every student's identity for security purposes.

Riley could remember the creator- a Filipino woman called Engineer Amalia Santos, once was praised by her late inventions, the first Filipino woman who got a chance to live on Mars for a span of 2 days. Well, the day before 2021 started, the day for racists, devouring the once was a free beloved country. She was banned from working for NASA, exactly on the day of September 2. Although politicians denied the accusations, it still wouldn't deny the truth. Though it needs hacking skills with very good hands. No one knows about this fact before some did, spreading the news on the year 2022, causing havoc between guilty politicians and Protestants especially for the Filipinos.

And those first people who knows? All of them are good hackers, the ones who could get by from the complexity of the government's security system and bank accounts.

So is she. That's why breaking in from this almost-perfect creation of the genius Amalia Santos haven't bothered her since.

She tilted her head, checking for signs of life. Nothing. The halls are empty, leaving her alone, with her encrypted Hologram phone and her skilled fingers.

She placed the screen just in front of the Recognition Tablet then there she started doing her thing.

Her bony fingers moved in reflex, typing numbers over numbers that only skilled computer nerds like her knows. Finally she pressed enter and with a small click she's now inside the school's database. She shakes off the thought of physically dancing in victory, as she happily pressed her fingerprint on the screen.

Then there moving like an elevator is the empty IT room, sliding rightward, opening.

She stepped in, her steps forward appeared careful. Of course she wouldn't want anybody to notice someone breaking in in a very valuable place.

She pulled herself on the nearest hologram computers, still careful and silent.

The screen automatically blinked alive, a beautiful tech with a beautiful flaw. A good start for hacking. You're right babies. She thought referring to the screen. Your mama's back. She guided her hands towards the finger detection box, pressing and she's finally in.

She typed her way towards the very secret and much secured Government Account. Her eyes blinked, hoping, hoping luck is on her side. If not, she hoped luck won't s**t itself off. She breathed in, making her way to the password.

Now passwords were like tricksters, they're definitely an easy bait but hard to come by. But her, blessed with incredibly talented fingers and smart mind, she considers herself immune. She could recognize the structure of the program, built within the system of the newest Hologram monitor, she'd checked through its database before. Reason why she doesn't have to undo her trick with codes.

Fingers, moving through the see-through keys sitting on the bottom of the tech, filled the silence of the room like soft electrical beats. Then with a delicious ding, she's in.

She was about to dive in halfway through the Hologram Screen when her phone silently buzzed.

Irritatingly she grabbed her phone, facing off the name of the guy she most expected will call on her phone's screen anytime

"What do you want?"

On the other end of the line Caleb is laughing, softly. Riley wanted to strangle him so bad, "What? So I'm now un-allowed to speak to my only friend?"

Though she knows in one particular reason that Caleb wasn't just calling her for nothing.

He always called her with surprise.

"I know you're up to something Caleb," Riley gritted her teeth, eager to extract everything from Caleb's head, "Spill."

"Eager much?" She could almost imagine him wiggling his eyebrows right now, "As planned, I have already gone through the filing office." Then he paused - falling into silence, making Riley impatient.

She groaned, a tone more than the sound of the lion's growl, "What is it?"

He sighs from the other end, knowing from the tone of it- he's still empty-handed, "None."

"You sure you've checked through every drawers?"

"I'm sure."

"Shelves?"

"Twice."

"Boxes."

"Yeah, I think I've checked through all of it even from the microchips, still none."

She raised her eyebrow, searching trying to pluck any ideas out from the very end of her brain. There's gotta be something. There has to be something! "How about the Police gods."

"What about the Police gods?" His voice became too audible, too obvious.

"You know, what about their filing office? Don't they have those?"

"Yeah of course they have, the one from Brooklyn. I doubt I could even get out alive there, even if I tried the hardest."

She knows this side of her best friend very well, he never once decline an offer even though they were that dangerous and risky. He's scared, he's scared of those assholes like most cliched cops do.

"How will you know if you haven't even tried breaking in yet?"

"How will I even try breaking in to that hellhole when all I know that they already have regaining forces waiting just on the first entrance. Like what if I get caught huh? What if they see through this cop outfit?" She can decipher that he's beginning to raise his voice.

She's still not convinced that Police gods can do such thing, or sort of convincing herself that security wouldn't be that tight, even with the Police gods. Call her selfish and ignorant (although she prefers the sound of "hoping" along with those lines), she's been doing this for her entire life, when she kept thinking about it- she wanted to crack the code now, she can't waste her time doing just this, her parents rely on her. She needs to know now.

"I'm sorry Caleb but there's no other person I count on to, I only have you, you know?" Riley said. You're my only family, a small voice followed, she forces herself to push back this thought.

After her rampant thinking, a brief silent occur, allowing her to breathe for a second.

Caleb sigh a defeated sigh, "Fine! But it is because I just got the opportunity to enter with the expert's permission."

She could've laugh and congratulate Caleb but she chose to remain silent, waiting for Caleb to say something.

"You know about that Venezuelan guy?"

"You mean the Inspector? The one who's found dead yesterday night?" She had heard the news. She could remember the pictures from the newspapers, the man's body looked fairly disgusting, and sure he doesn't even look murdered, but it doesn't mean he's not dead. Though the lifeless Inspector looked pretty un-dead on the papers. She wondered how those cops could handle the smell.

"Yeah that's the one. Well, the guy who's eye autopsying him right now was the guy who once worked from CGI." He continued, "He now worked for the Police gods though. He's like a detective now so which means, if he asked for something it means I'm automatically inclined to do it self-claim-ably."

Then silence overtook their lines again, but she stayed waiting, listening.

"So yeah, he did asked me for something, and now my hands are full-holding his errands."

Now it's her turn to speak, she thought about what Caleb had said, all of the stories. She wondered how to connect all of it together.

"So? It means what?", Riley asked.

"It means I just got a free ticket to break in to the gods' filing office."

She couldn't believe her ears.

So it means-

"It means you can finally find out the truth about your parents' death. You will finally give them their justice." Caleb beamed on the other line, his voice pure and giddy, making her feel the need to share it with Caleb.

But the thing is: What if there's no file about her parents anywhere? What if what she believed in all along was a complete hoax? What if the police were right?

No, she knows what she's doing. She can't back out now.

"Good." Her voice flat, as she added, "Now I need you to listen to me carefully."

...

DOON

"You sniveling piece of-"

"Thieves." A black cop mumbled under his breath, his fist around a piece of the thief's hoodie, trying to push him forward.

The thief stumbled, wanting nothing more than to just have his fist on the cop's nose. It would be considered as bliss to have his nose bleed right now.

But fortunately he didn't because that would mean stupidity but he decided to spit, his saliva heading towards the smelly black shoe of the cop.

The cop's eyes met the emanate sight of the nasty saliva, coming from a teenage thief.

His fist circled, tightening- threatening. "That's it! Wait till you taste this-"

"What's going on?"

Like a sudden spurt of miracle, a guy wearing an old fashioned set of clothes appeared before the scene. His voice grim- accented, something that a person will find intimidating and hard to not listen to. His features appeared young, his hair hazel brunette blending with his tanned skin, his gray eyes firm on Smith who's now lowering his head, practically embarrassed, the cop's fist loosened, no longer devoted to his desire to ruin the thief's bones.

"General Black just sent me to hold this guy up. Quite a nasty thing if you ask me."

Crap. The thief thought for a second. The guy's mouth smells like crap.

Detective Callahan just stared blankly at the cop, then tilting his head to face the thief. "What's your name lad?"

"My name's Doon sir, Doon Alderson." He stood up, "And I'm not a kid. I'm already 18."

Callahan raised his eyebrow, "Interesting." His eyes went back towards the cop, his expression still blank "I suggest you lead this guy unharmed to Black, officer Smith. You don't want your badge severed by the gods don't you?"

Officer Smith nods a wide nod, saluting as farewell to Callahan.

Then Callahan marched forward like nothing happened at all.

Doon remained at awe, but crucial about his newfound hate for the power the old fashioned dude has. He sneered, which is directed to Callahan's back, allowing himself to take pleasure on the idea of probably being the only guy who wasn't affected by intimidation.

"So," Officer Smith was the one who broke the silence, his hand is strong on Doon's shirt, "Shall we?"

Doon grits his teeth.

Smith pushed Doon harder forward.

...

ANONYMOUS (a hero pseudonym)

He huffed for air, regaining his balance as he advanced towards his opponent's straining body. He can feel the veins under his skin, beating as if with effort, trying to collect air as his fist reached the sweating face of his opponent. Dark Lord flew, hitting the wall hard, leaving a mark. A cavernous depth was now tattooed on the same spot. Dark Lord, already limping, surged forward towards Anonymous, though by the looks of it, Dark Lord's chances were falling, precisely and in flash.

Anonymous ducked as Dark Lord's right arm aimed for his head. He led his body just on the back of Dark Lord. Using his strength he led both of his strong arms forward, resulting for Dark Lord to have his face fall flat on the free surface. Dark Lord coughed out a handful of dirt, disgusted.

Anonymous slowly walked towards Dark Lord, leading his foot on his back head, Dark Lord's head sank as response, groaning causing more dirt to enter his blooded mouth.

Anonymous smirked in pleasure, "I'm sorry, what are you saying?"

In flash Dark Lord grabbed his toe, knocking Anonymous on the ground, Anonymous can feel pebbles digging his back, but he stayed silent, not wanting pain to show prominence.

"Now you know how it felt." Dark Lord leaned closer, escorting his heavy fists on both sides of Anonymous' cheeks, leaving a small gash on either side.

It doesn't stop the Dark Lord. He abruptly reached for his knife, holding it up to Anonymous' neck.

Anonymous gulped in the sight of it. "C'mon, you can't just kill me with that!"

Dark Lord chuckled, letting the sharp edge to gently touch the skin of Anonymous' neck. "Don't worry, people won't know about your death. I promise to bury you thoroughly under a grave with no name."

Anonymous managed a smirk, "Nice try Dark Lord." Before Dark Lord can register what was happening, Anonymous managed to knock the knife out from his neck, and then he stood up, laughing.

In his turn, he managed to put Dark Lord underneath him, and he's thinking, a very naughty thought, so this is how intimacy meant. And he's very sure he never was gay. A very naughty thought indeed.

He can feel the heat, already radiating on his palms, fast and incapable of fading, "I never understood why you named yourself Dark Lord, perhaps it would be more peace-loving if you named yourself Lightning Scar?"

Dark Lord chuckled, spitting blood, "And where's the fun in that Asshole? Who would've hated a villain named Lightning Scar?"

He had his heat ready, waiting "Too bad, I would've been the first one." Anonymous rubbed both of his palms, sighing "Oh well." Then finally, he brought down both of his palms, then after a while, as if in a blink, blood started to drown the Dark Lord's black overcoat, just on the middle of his chest.

Beautiful Death, a farewell from millions of agonies. He thought, pulling his right fist to his chest, his eyes enjoying the art of blood, spraying all over the bastard's body in front of him. He knelt, his posture straight and firm, his head bowed. For the people who suffered, farewell. Bless this wondrous increment of pleasurable death that blessed my eyes, farewell. He prayed.

And that sure won't be the last.

Then his phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes, stuffing his hand to his brief pocket, embarrassingly designed by his old friend Cisco. He found his phone, clearing his throat in preparation, grinning "So what do I owe the pleasure, Cisco?"

He almost dropped the phone when a very audible voice of Cisco replied back, "CGI will be killin' yah soon enough mate. You need to be here right now!"

CGI? What the heck did they even called me for?

He wanted to ask, but immediately realized that there's no point in asking whilst he knew it was long time ago when his participation between the CGI has been over.

"Later, I have an important business to attend to," Anonymous dropped his gaze back to the dying Dark Lord.

"Dude, you know I've been working with these jerkwads for like what? 5 years now? And you know that never have I ever bragged you with anything about my work. But this s**t right now? This thing that I'm talking right now is big. I swear with my dignified balls that this is needed with your time." There's a noise on the background of where Cisco was, he must've have been risking a call from outside of his work hall, "I expect your call back man." Then he dropped the line. Anonymous' ear met the beeping chaos of the end call tone.

Under him Dark Lord groaned silently.

Of course he's still alive! Anonymous clenched his jaw.

"So? How's it going then? Are you still gonna kill me?"

Anonymous can see the faint picture of excessive blood coming from Dark Lord's mouth as he spoke.

He rubbed both his palms together. The finishing touch, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you." He can feel the aggravating heat from his palms, "I'm gonna send you straight back to hell."