Chapter Text
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Sirens rang out in the dark of night as Officer Darcy rushed to the scene. Taking a quick scan of the place, all she could see was the entirety of the 11th precinct running around, questioning bombshocked civilians who were clad in pyjamas and blankets. She spotted a few familiar faces and walked over to them after sparing another glance to the shivering old woman to her right.
“What happened?” she asked Lieutenant Hawkes who looked relieved to see her. “Any victims?”
“Two,” he replied, handing her a sealed bag. “It was the Purple Hyacinth.”
“Already? That’s the second time this week,” Darcy held up the bag and warily eyed the blood dripping off of the violet flower inside.
“Exactly. Either the Phantom Scythe’s getting busier or the assassin’s getting sloppier,” said a new voice. Darcy turned and saw Sargeant Ladell heading towards them after questioning a man. “I think we're getting closer to him.”
“We know it's a him now?”
“We found a signet on the ground ,” Ladell held up a 2 inch wide gold medallion. “Look at the year. It was issued more than 50 years ago. No woman has received this medal before 20 years ago, and it didn't belong to Hawthorne either.”
“That's our victim?”
“He was a politician, a minor minister on the Council.” Hawkes said.
“Have we checked if he had ties with the royal family?” Darcy asked. It was sure to be the reason why the Phantom Scythe targeted him.
“We were just about to. I think he had to-”
“Bang!”
A gunshot startles them out of their conversation and the man Ladell was questioning screamed and fell to the ground. The detectives ducked down and pulled out their guns, scanning around them for direction of the gunshot. Wide-eyed, Darcy’s eyes shot up to the roof of the manor and saw a figure clad in shadows walking back from the edge.
“Upstairs,” Darcy whispered, breathlessly. “It came from upstairs. You two,” she turned to Ladell and Hawkes. “Get to the roof!”
“Kym, come on!” Hawkes yelled at the Sergeant as he ran inside the manor, Ladell hot on his trails.
Darcy set off like a girl on fire and went towards the receding shadow she spotted. Jumping up low walls, she parkoured herself on the roof of the Hawthorne manor and scoured the area above for a man hidden in the night. A figure raced behind her and she whipped her head around, brown hair flying the midnight breeze.
“I'm not over there, pretty.”
Darcy turns to the voice and her eyes widen in shock at the barely visible outline standing 5 feet in front of her. But what shocked her more was…
“You're a girl.”
The assassin tilted her head. “What? Girls can't kill now?” She sounded amused.
“But, the medallion-”
She hummed. “You'd be amazed at what the sewers offer for the least of coins.”
(The “Sewers.
A cruder word for the separate world shoved deep into the underground sewers. The countrywide communications network running perfectly right under the King’s nose, cleverly disguised as the Circus.
Darcy was a mere 15 when she tiptoed into the backstage tent of the performer’s trying to get some clue of where ‘he’ was. She already knew what the circus really stood for. All she had to do was just listen in on a few of their conversations and she’d know where they’d kept him.
The voices got quieter and quieter and she inched closer and closer…
And faster than she could process, there was a cold hand across her mouth, dragging her back and out of the tent.
“Our elephants can’t stand rats.” said the already disappearing figure.
She couldn’t even make a sound.”)
The cold air made her eyes water and she suddenly remembered where she was. As quick as a grasshopper, she ran towards the assassin. Jumping on and off roofs, the assassin merely a hair’s width away from her grasp, the two of them played cat and mouse and covered a distance much farther than where the crime scene was.
Suddenly, as she leaped off a building she found the assassin nowhere to be seen and the ground inching closer and closer. With no wall to slide against and soften her impact she pulled her arms to her face and got ready to feel the impact-
Except it never came.
With one hand under the officer’s waist and the other behind her knees, the assassin pulled her pursuer close to her and flipped her around to push her against the side of the building they lept off. They both stood there for a while, their bodies pressed together in the darkness, with no light coming in save for the sliver of moonlight lighting up the eyes of the Purple Hyacinth. Darcy couldn't do anything but catch her breath as she stared into brilliant red eyes staring back at her.
Seeing her chance, Darcy shoved her hand in front of the assassin’s face and pulled the scarf covering her lower face and hair. The assassin jumped back and let out an airy laugh.
“Come on now,” she looked up at Darcy and shoved her bright hair out of her face. “I thought we were closer than that. If you wanted to stare at my face, you could've said so.”
“You’re-you’re the Purple Hyacinth,” Darcy stammered. As she reached for her walkie talkie to let Hawkes know her location, her hands were suddenly in a death grip and pinned to the wall above her head.
“Three’s a crowd, darling,” she whispered into Darcy's ear and leaned back. “Why don't we have a chat?”
Like earlier that night, sirens rang out before Darcy's walkie talkie whizzed itself to life.
“Officer Darcy, come in, this is Lieutenant Hawkes. Are you okay?” came the muffled voice from the walkie talkie behind her. Darcy could hear quiet footsteps getting louder every second.
The assassin let go of her hands and stepped back to pick up the scarf from the floor. Darcy watched, captivated, as the girl in front of her tied her hair back up and covered her face again.
“5th Avenue Bridge, midnight, three days from now,” she said with a muffled voice.
“Officer Darcy?” She could hear Hawkes’ voice coming closer.
‘I'll see you soon, pretty.”
Silent as a bat, the assassin jumped up the wall and disappeared into the darkness where even the moon could not reach her.
“Officer? Officer, are you- Neyra!” Hawkes rushed towards her as soon as he noticed the scrapes on her face that she got when she skid herself against the wall. “Are you alright? What happened?”
“I'm alright, Will, it's just a few scratches,” she waved it off. “The assassin got away. I'm sorry.”
“You're safe, that's all that matters. Besides, it's the Purple Hyacinth. He’s fast.”
Neryra was silent for a few moments before responding quietly. “Yeah, he's really fast. Shame I couldn't catch him.”