Rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening like wet glass. Neon pooled in puddles, fractured into jagged colors, reflecting the chaos above and below. I hugged my coat tighter, boots pressing soft prints into the slick pavement. The alley smelled of ozone and damp iron reminded me vaguely of failed experiments and burnt toast. Perfect setting for ominous advice.
Click… drip… hum…
The Detective emerged from the shadows, boots silent, trench coat clinging like armor. No greeting, just presence. He leaned against the wall, collar up, eyes tracing my every twitch, my every blink, like he could read the story before it was written.
"Touching things you shouldn't," he said, voice calm, measured. No theatrics. Just the weight of fact.
I glanced down at the steel grate I'd been idly examining. Sparks danced faintly where it met the wet concrete. "Yeah," I muttered, sarcasm dripping as heavily as the rain did a few nights ago. "An electric fence. How original. Truly, the city is spoiling me with its creativity."
He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. Calm was his superpower. "It's not the electricity," he said, eyes locking on mine. "It's the pattern. Someone's been here before you. Someone who knew exactly what you'd do next."
I smirked, tilting my head. "Fantastic. So it's a high-stakes game of connect-the-dots. My favorite."
Click… scrape… drip…
He stepped closer, boots silent but deliberate, each movement precise, surgical. "You're learning," he said softly. "Faster than they expect. But speed alone won't save you. Observation, patience… knowing what to touch and what to ignore. That's what counts."
I exhaled a laugh I didn't entirely feel. "Right. Observation, patience… and the occasional healthy dose of sarcasm to keep me sane. Got it."
He regarded me like I'd just confessed to juggling chainsaws blindfolded. "Curiosity is a weapon, Dylan. Don't mistake it for luck."
I let that hang in the air. "Oh, I know the difference," I said, voice low, muttering to the alley more than him. "Luck ran out years ago. I'm just keeping busy with entertainment value while I pretend it's optional."
Click… tap… hum…
He gave a slight nod, the kind that felt both approving and warning at the same time. Then, as silently as he arrived, he melted into the shadows, leaving the alley to its own secrets.
I crouched by the grate again, letting my fingers trace the steel. Sparks danced faintly, teasing me, as if the city itself was testing my nerve. "Electric fence," I muttered under my breath. "Sure. Why not? Because who doesn't like their lessons with a side of mild electrocution?"
And somewhere beneath the sarcasm, a pulse of tension threaded through me. I knew the Detective wasn't done. He never was. And I knew Rook would show up soon, jittery and unpredictable, a live wire in contrast to this calm, silent judgment.
Click… drip… scrape…
I shook my head, smirk twisting bitterly. "Oh joy. Another friendly warning. Can't wait for the encore probably involves sparks, betrayal, or both."
The alley breathed around me, soaked and waiting, and I moved on, ready or at least as ready as I'd ever be to learn which way the current would hit first.