Book 3: Chapter 7 - Reckless, But Justified

The Cruel Ivy Killer doesn’t do anything by accident.
Everything he does is careful and calculated.

He is playing with us. Sending us messages with his kills.

Never take anything for granted,
and always assume there is a deeper meaning behind his choice of victim.

This is how we catch him.
We interpret not just individual kills,
but the message behind all of them together.
—Detective John Knight, Briefing

Violet wasn't as annoyed as she expected. She was always in a foul mood after interacting with Kassie too much. At least when the thought of fighting her came up. She hated feeling powerless. And it was a necessity that she scrub that helplessness away as quickly as possible. Violet needed to prove to herself that she was still in control, and she intended to.

Kiera had helped, though. The new talent her friend had displayed was, undeniably, adorable. It had been a pleasant end to an unpleasant class. Violet celebrated Kiera’s promotion, of course. She bought dinner for the entire team, and she didn’t even insist on seafood. Kiera’s red tail did, in fact, dissolve when the fight was over. It seemed to serve as an enhancement to her talents, but only when she needed it. Violet briefly wondered if Kiera’s use of illusions on herself would result in the tail coming back at random, but it didn’t seem to. As it was, Kiera simply had orange decorating her at all times now, as opposed to red.

The afternoon had done a great deal for Violet’s mood.

But it wasn’t enough. The stain of her reaction to Kassie was still scratching at the back of her head like a cockroach had burrowed into her skull. It tormented her while she ate. And taunted her while she laughed. It stole her attention from her friends, and by the time she was on her own again, she was already dragging a storm with her. Her sidetail was hurting her head, and she needed to let her hair down. 

The train ride had been too long, despite how short the distance was. Violet was anxious to get to her destination and get her work for the night done. She was actually rather tired and wanted to get to bed, but that would be pointless if she didn’t do this first. She found herself tired a lot lately. It wasn't easy to keep up with the grueling training and such physically demanding... extracurriculars. It was worth it, but it was definitely exhausting. At least she was getting fairly toned with all the exercise. It was impressive how much that affected her strength attribute. A target with the same strength attribute as her might’ve actually been weaker now.

Finally, she arrived at her stop. She wasn’t interested in a repeat of the Merryl incident, so she’d needed to go first to the red district, then yellow, where she was finally arriving. It was tedious and restrictive, considering the train schedules. But Bouvier didn’t seem to have anyone who could follow her to the red district. Not that he’d ever risk that, considering she’d won the fight with a higher degree lancer. And she wasn’t exactly making it obvious that she was boarding the red train. In any case, it was a few extra layers of precaution to avoid further... interruptions. 

It was still annoying, though. 

She exited the train after a quick verification of her empathy ring, then put her hands in her pockets and began walking into the city. She wished she could just wear her normal casual attire, but that was out of the question for obvious reasons. She’d chosen a school uniform in the hopes that she could increase the pressure on Bouvier. She wanted the investigation focused on the academy, regardless of the associated risks. If any witnesses caught a glimpse of her, the outfit would certainly help. 

At the same time, she couldn’t be recognized as Violet Asher. Which meant padding out a few areas, wearing that talent-enchanted hairnet, and covering her head with a cap. It also meant a lot more makeup than she preferred, and in different colors. Purple hair wasn’t exactly common. And a girl from Chromatic with purple hair down to her calves would narrow things down to exactly one suspect.

It usually didn’t really bother her, but she was, for lack of a better word, grumpy. Until she found the person she intended to take it out on, she was going to find herself especially annoyed by familiar inconveniences. 

But that was alright. She had exactly the target in mind. Elise. The adult daughter of a fairly prominent lawyer in Prism. Elise herself was only Category Yellow, which meant Violet would need to surprise her to avoid a fight. Even in Prism City, where the clarity was thick in the air, reaching mid-yellow by twenty was difficult. At least, for those who didn’t attend Chromatic Academy. Students at the school weren’t anything to gauge normal advancement by, however. That meant Elise was good at what she did. That wasn’t a good reason to believe she’d be good in a fight, but it was a red flag. Even for an “Executive” who was unlikely to have any combat-related talents. But Elise’s mother was Category Cyan. 

Killing her target tonight would grant her whatever clarity a yellow could, which would be nice. But it would also grant the clarity of taking something from a cyan. An influential cyan at that. Combined with every other implication of the death, Violet could actually reach a new degree once the death was discovered. Powerful people didn’t need to fear for themselves, but they needed to fear for their lower-category loved ones. Violet intended to drive that point home.

It would be especially gratifying in this case, too. The entire family was rancid, as far as Violet was concerned. She’d reviewed the cases her target’s mother had handled. Using people's callings as legal evidence against them. Pushing down people who struggled to advance in favor of those who had an easy time. It all reminded her of home. She could acknowledge that Elise didn’t have all that much to do with her parents’ dealings, but she hadn’t distanced herself, either. The woman had benefited from all of it and had never uttered a public word of complaint. Violet wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt for ending her, and she’d feel even less for ruining her mother’s life. The whole bloodline deserved it. 

She was practically salivating at the thought as she skulked through the city, keeping her head down the entire time. She had adrenaline running through her veins, and she had to police her body language to avoid giving as much away. In this district, many people would have even better perception than her. Not all, considering it was her best attribute, but many. She couldn’t afford to slip up.

And that caution was what nearly stopped her in her tracks. 

She was about to enter the apartment building where her target lived alone. It was an indoor complex, with a single door she’d need a resident to unlock remotely. It was well used enough that she could slip in behind someone, and she had a lie prepared if she couldn’t. But she caught a glimpse of color she didn’t like as she approached. Through the glass door, just inside.

It was... brown. It wasn’t a particularly strange brown, and she’d seen many jackets that matched it in the city. And that was exactly what it was. A long brown jacket worn by an unidentifiable stranger just inside. 

She was used to killing while other people were nearby. She was hardly expecting the building to be abandoned, considering that at least a few hundred people lived there. She would usually walk right past a stranger, as she’d done with dozens of people in Samuel’s hotel. But this was different. Although it was just a flash of color, and the coat's owner had disappeared from view a moment later, it gave her pause. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and she decided to simply keep walking past the building. There appeared to be a food stall just a little farther down the road, and she’d pretend it was her destination. 

She bit her lip as she approached and realized it sold some sort of mixed rice and veggie dish. The meat inside looked fine, but the stall only sold one type of food—and it had carrots of all things in it. She grimaced internally, but smiled at the vendor. “A small bowl, please,” she requested. 

“Sure, sauce or no sauce?” the man asked. 

“Extra, please. It smells delicious,” she answered. The man immediately went about his work, and Violet resisted the urge to bite her nail. She hadn’t pinned down exactly what spooked her, but the target was off the table regardless. At least now that she was ordering food. She didn’t carry her purse or wallet on these excursions. That meant she’d have to pay with her empathy ring, which would connect to her private account. That was fine, usually. But while she could fake the name, she couldn’t actually fake what account she needed to access. 

Presenting the wrong name with her account would not only identify her, but it would reveal her Obfuscate talent. Both were less than ideal. Of course, no one was going to examine the transactions of some random street vendor. They would have no reason to. Unless a dead body showed up in the building next door. This essentially took Eliza off the table for the next few weeks, until this man had likely cleared his records. Violet didn’t want any evidence she’d been there at all.

That was profoundly annoying. 

And now she had to eat fucking carrots. She wasn’t even hungry.

“How's business been?” Violet asked. 

The man shrugged as he poured a brownish sauce over a bowl of rice, veggies, chicken, and disappointment. “Could be better. Cruel Ivy Killer has everyone in a fuss, so foot traffic is less common than it should be. God bless brave girls like you,” he said.

“Brave” was the word indeed, given what she was about to eat. 

“I guess I just forgot that was a concern, truth be told. I don’t visit this district often,” Violet explained. 

The vendor put the steaming bowl down in front of Violet, along with a wrapped pair of wooden chopsticks. “Oh, right. Chromatic student. I guess they have been keeping all of you sheltered from all this,” he grunted. “Ironic, considering they throw you at monsters instead, but what do I know?”

“Maybe,” Violet mused. “Or maybe our headmaster is the killer.” She unwrapped the chopsticks and broke them apart. The meal in front of her wouldn’t have looked appetizing on a good day, but her stomach was full. She was going to have to eat it. She wondered if it would even look different when she puked it up. It wasn’t an easy question to answer, which made it difficult to take a bite.

“That’s stupid,” the man dismissed, and Violet paused. 

“As stupid as selling street food on empty streets?” she quipped.

The man only laughed at the retort. “Hey, greens tip more than the price of the food itself! At my category, I only need to make a few sales to turn a profit,” he explained.

“Oh?” Violet asked. “Not green yourself, then?”

“No more than you are, sweetheart,” he replied. “Something wrong with the food? You still have to pay either way.”

Violet was rapidly passing irritated and entering angry territory. 

She couldn’t explain why this conversation had helped her put the pieces together, but she knew what had spooked her. This was an excellent day for street food. It was uncharacteristically warm for the season, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was comfortable enough that the padding in Violet’s uniform was making her sweat. Which made her wonder. Exactly why would someone be wearing such a long jacket indoors? It would be incredibly uncomfortable.

Just like Violet’s fashion choices, in fact. It might have been a stretch. Perhaps Violet was attributing her own motives to a stranger. It was possible the idea of using too-warm clothing to hide something was on her mind. But she didn’t like the idea of something like that in the same building as the woman she was targeting. It wasn’t necessarily likely, but it was plausible. Someone may have picked up on how she was picking targets. 

The thought only made her angrier. She’d been looking forward to the night. She needed it. And she was in no mood to go back empty-handed.

The vendor held out a fist, presenting his empathy ring. Violet was supposed to tap it to pay for her meal, but she glared at the man instead.

“What makes you think I’m not green?” she interrogated.

“No offense was meant by it. I can just spot someone who’s nervous about their surroundings, that’s all. It’s common for lower categories who don’t spend much time around higher ones,” he answered.

She didn’t like that he noticed how vigilant she was being. That meant she was memorable. And not in the circumstances she intended to be. 

“I don’t like being patronized,” Violet growled.

“I wouldn’t think of it, sweetie,” he replied. “I’m only orange myself. Nothing wrong with that. Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t work for free.”

“Oh? Do you charge your children for meals?” Violet whispered. There was venom in her voice, and the man’s smile wavered. She’d been pissed off when she’d arrived. But now? She was entering the level of anger where stupid impulses were likely to win out over wisdom.

“I certainly don’t, but you’re not my daughter, sweetheart,” he replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh? Then do you think we’re fucking? Do you charge your partners, then?” Violet pressed. 

The man visibly flinched at the suggestion. “You’re far too young for that. Hell, you’re too young to even speak like that,” he reprimanded. “Now I do require that you pay for your meal, or I will report this to your school.”

“Then why?” Violet asked.

“Why what, sweetie?” he responded, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Why the fuck do you keep calling me sweetheart?” she asked again.

“Well, no need to throw a fit, it’s a term of endearment,” the vendor insisted. “Just trying to be friendly, but if it makes you mad, I’ll drop it. I just didn't expect you to be so sensitive.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice she’d ever made. But she couldn’t risk her target anymore. And she needed it. She absolutely needed it. It felt like she was starving, and the hungrier she became, the more certain she was. She couldn’t leave a transaction with this man. She couldn’t leave this witness alive at all. It was easy to convince herself of that when she was in such a terrible mood.

Shadow vines wrapped the man in an instant and gagged him before he could scream. Violet stood, calmly but quickly, and pulled the vendor into the alley near his stall. She watched his face closely, savoring the widening of his eyes as he realized who she was. She wasn’t certain what he was trying to scream though the shadows, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t “sweetheart.”

“Think of this as a term of endearment,” she snarled. Her voice made the man’s fate clear, and he immediately started to struggle for his life. Shaking his head in desperation was a mistake, however. Shadows didn’t absorb sound. Violet could only gag him by gripping his throat from the inside and halting vibrations. As a result, the sudden movement of his head was followed immediately by a wet, ripping sensation. Blood poured over the stranger’s lips, and Violet finally felt like she was totally in control again. It may have been far from the truth. Some part of her mind acknowledged that this was a total loss of self-control. But that wasn’t what mattered to the reaper. Not right then. She needed to feel right, and she was denied access to her true target. This would help.

So she slammed his head into a crystal-coated wall on the side of the alley. There was a loud crack and a dull thud at the same time. Again and again she did it, until the sound of bone gave way to the squelching of meat and the vendor stopped struggling. Splotches of blood colored the green crystal like tomatoes had been thrown at it, and a corpse fell to Violet’s feet. Violet wrinkled her nose at the bits of skull stuck to an exposed brain like a lizard to fly paper.

She felt better immediately, even if regret at her recklessness followed only seconds behind. She sighed, then swept her ivy across the alley as she always did. She gripped every hair and wiped every surface with shadow, and left the scene cleaner than when she’d arrived. Except for the ruined vendor, of course. 

She paused as she passed the stall, then picked up the meal he’d prepared for her and tried a bite as she casually walked away from the scene. She almost wanted to run. That had been her most reckless kill in months. Maybe ever, considering the possibility of an investigator waiting inside the building. But running would attract attention. 

So she walked, and she ate.

“Shit,” she murmured as soon as she swallowed the first bite. “Carrots be damned. This is delicious. What a fucking waste.”