Chapter Text
Rain beat down on the windows and the roof mercilessly. It hadn't let up in several days, leaving the city in a dreary, dark overcast.
A woman sits crying in an old, dingy studio, holding a stuffed animal and several photos. On the desk in front of her are several personal items, newspaper clippings and tapes of security camera footage.
And behind the desk in front of her sat a private investigator, Mr. Ant Tenna, crossed-armed and staring at her as she cries. She had just been delivered the news that her daughter had been found after several weeks of being missing, but not in the way that she had hoped.
Still, despite the anguish, she thanks Tenna for all his help, knowing perhaps her daughters body would have never been recovered had she just let the police handle it. Angel knows the police wouldn't have handled it.
These cases were becoming more and more common as crime in the city began to increase. It seemed to get worse every year. What was once a bustling city full of life and promise quickly became a cesspool of crime.
Tenna offers the woman a cigarette, and she hesitantly accepts. She hadn't smoked since she found out she was pregnant and never smoked for the sake of her baby girl, but now she has no baby girl, and a cigarette sounds good right now.
This was the hardest part of his job. Delivering the bad news was never easy, but knowing that he is making a difference in the lives of others makes it a little better.
When the woman took her leave, Tenna stared out the window of the office, watching heavy rain pelt passersby and streams of dirty water flowing down the streets, the storm gutters too clogged with debris to be useful.
Mr. Ant Tenna used to be a star, a marvel in entertainment that was known far and wide. He dominated the airwaves and made a celebrity of himself, finding his home in the studio of TV World.
He still finds himself in that studio.
Just doing something a little different.
The studio had long since been abandoned for producing television shows, but was now used as Tenna's investigatory headquarters, despite the disrepair and lack of good company.
It had been a slow shift; his Lightner was using him less and less for entertainment and more for displaying evidence. It was something Tenna had embraced at first, seeing as he had played plenty of detective roles in the past, but it was nothing like the TV shows he produced.
Far more boring, in fact.
Still, it felt nice knowing he was helping others, and the thanks he received always reminded him of how important his role is.
Sometimes people recognized him on the streets, and though part of him is glad that he is still remembered fondly in that way, he also knows he's not the man he used to be. And there's certainly no part of him that wants to disappoint those who once saw him in a more wholesome, cheerful light.
He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling heavily as he dragged himself back to his desk to work on his next case. The manila file sat neatly on the desk, and he dared not touch it. He knew it was just another infidelity case. There was nothing exciting about watching someone for days on end only to catch them fucking someone else or doing something highly illegal. Tenna preferred the latter.
He huffed out a sigh and slumped into the uncomfortable desk chair. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thinking about nothing in particular. Then, there was a gentle knock on the door.
Tenna's assistant let herself in. "I'm heading out, Mr. Tenna. Goodnight." She spoke.
Tenna checked his watch. 10 o'clock. He supposed it was getting pretty late.
His assistant was a nice girl, obviously just someone looking for work and not at all passionate about handling paperwork or managing case files. She did her job and it sufficed, and she occasionally brought doughnuts to the studio, which was a nice perk.
There were a few other employees that hung around, but at this point, Tenna wasn't sure what their job was or if they do anything but sit around waiting for instructions.
Instead of looking through the case sitting in front of him, Tenna decided to call it a night. It had already been a tough day, he didn't need to end it on an excruciatingly boring note. What he needed after today was a good drink.
Down the street from the studio was a quaint bar called Ramb's, and Ramb himself knew how to make a damn good drink.
Tenna sat at the bar and ordered his usual. Ramb made quick work of the drink, sparking up conversation as he did.
"Any big cases lately, mate?" Ramb spoke as he poured Tenna's drink.
"There was a missing child case. Gave the bad news to her mother today."
"That's horrible. How was she found?" Ramb asked with mindful curiosity.
Tenna sighed and gulped down his drink, hissing as the liquor burned his throat.
"They found her wrapped in a tarp in a warehouse." Tenna spoke.
Ramb clicked his tongue. "What a shame. Who could do that to a child?"
"The cartel could." Tenna mumbled under his breath as he lit a cigarette.
These missing persons cases were the most excitement Tenna got out of the job. It's where he could really enjoy field work. Though it still saddened him when the results ended with someone being found dead. Or not found at all.
In the corner of the dimly lit bar sat a few other patrons, drunk to the point of passing out or shamelessly making out in a booth. In this part of town, the bar didn't seem to attract many of the inner city folk who had money to blow. No, they were at the fancy rooftop clubs sipping dry martinis and snorting who-knows-what off the bathroom sink. In a way, Tenna envied them. He used to live the high life, but those days were gone.
Sometimes he ventured into the inner city and would pass by all the places he used to frequent. Though, now, he doesn't quite have the money or the "look" anymore.
Tenna tipped Ramb for the drinks and bid him goodnight. It was still raining outside. As it had been for several weeks now.
Sleep was harder to get these days. Especially after closing a case that didn't end up with a happy ending. He preferred the happy endings. All his shows back in the day had happy endings.
He often found himself lying awake in bed, mulling over whatever case he was working on that day, but tonight was an exception; he found himself thinking about his Lightner, how despite only using him sparingly, they use him for a valiant purpose. His purpose is important. It's noble. And so is his Lightner.
At least, he really tries to convince himself of that.
He couldn't understand why his Lightner wasn't using him more often, why things had to change so suddenly.
But it didn't matter.
He had more important things to worry about.
Mornings were usually slow. Tenna often stared out the window onto the street below the studio. At four o'clock in the morning, every morning since 1974, he'd have a cup of coffee and a cigarette, reading the morning paper at a kitchen table that was too big for just him.
When he came down from his apartment that sat overtop the studio at around six o'clock, he immediately got to work on that infidelity case he'd been putting off.
Same shit, different day. Some woman accuses her husband of cheating, wants to divorce to take all he has and needs proof of an affair. Tenna has seen it a million times before.
The usual method of tapping the phones and snapping pictures did the trick most of the time. It shouldn't be such a hard task.
Yet, for whatever reason, tracking the cheating bastard proved harder than Tenna thought.
Four days of following this guys footsteps until he finally caught him at a motel with some other woman. At this point, it wasn't even boring, just annoying.
The case closes, the woman gets the divorce and all her husbands assets, and Tenna gets a nice payday. He's decided from now on, he's going to start charging a little extra for infidelity cases.
That night, Tenna found himself staring into the bathroom mirror a little too long. Some days, he hardly recognized himself. It was becoming painfully obvious how much this job had aged him, despite how much he refused to believe it. The burn-in on his screen left a constant shadow on the lower half of his screen and the crack on his lip made him feel so… unappealing. Pictures of himself nearly 20 years ago only proved it further. He'd look at them, see the date written and realize every time how it all got away from him.
Those were the nights that he hated his Lightner.
And in the morning, he found himself sleeping in far too late. It was nearly 5:30 by the time he woke up. But he was in no rush. He didn't see much reason to. It was his business, why in the world would he break his routine for the sake of getting to the studio by six?
When he did arrive at the studio—the time nearly being almost eight o'clock—he found a file that he didn't recognize on his desk.
At the same time, his assistant makes her presence known.
"Good morning, Mr. Tenna. Doughnuts are in the break room." She sang out, eating her own doughnut.
Tenna picked up the file. "What's this?"
"Oh! I just put that together. Got a visitor right before you came in. He seemed pretty distraught so I offered him a doughnut, hope that's okay. Anyway, he says his kid is missing and hands me that picture there."
Tenna looked at the photo of a young boy.
"I took down all the info he was willing to give, but for an upset parent, he didn't seem to wanna cough up much." She shook her head.
Tenna quickly glanced through the information given.
The boys name is Lancer.
He's 12.
Son of notorious crime boss Spade King.
Last seen in his room last night.
"Same organization that kidnapped and murdered that girl they found." Tenna spoke quietly.
"You think it's revenge?" His assistant asked, peering over her glasses.
"Could be. Guess there's only one way to find out."
Tenna sat down at his desk and pulled out a notepad and a contact book.
The number one lead he could think of was the family of the girl the Spade family had killed only days ago. The only issue was that the father of the girl was in jail for robbing a bank to pay back the Spades, so it couldn't be him. The mother could be a suspect, but she didn't seem like the type who could formulate a perfect kidnapping.
Still, she could be questioned.
Tenna gave it a little more thought, though. He didn't want to question a grieving mother right away, and there were plenty of other denizens who had their issues with the Spades.
"You said he wouldn't give you any info?" Tenna asked his assistant.
"Not much. He asked to talk to you, but you weren't in yet. He left his number."
Tenna looked at the number written down in the file. He would certainly need more information from King himself if he was going to get this figured out.
Tenna sighed, mentally preparing himself for this phone call, and dialed the number King had left. It rang for several seconds before a gruff voice answered.
"Who is this?"
"Ant Tenna."
"Ah, Mr. Tenna. I payed you a visit earlier and you weren't there. How do you expect to get any business when you're not there during business hours?"
"I apologize, sir, I had a late start this morning. My assistant briefed me on your situation. I'm sorry to hear about your son."
"My son's a good boy, Mr. Tenna. Never did nothin' to nobody. Now, you know I can't go to the cops about this. They've already got it out for me as is, don't need them sniffin' around my home turf. But I hear you get things done, Mr. Tenna. In fact, it was you who ratted out some of my men just the other day."
"I did what I was hired to do, sir. Nothing personal."
"Trust me, I didn't want the girl killed neither. Those half-wits had it comin'. But that's why I want you to find my son. I want you to stop by sometime today so we can talk business. Please, Mr. Tenna. I just want my son back."
"I'll come by around noon."
With the little information he had, there were so many different possibilities and routes. Finding the boy was the first priority, of course, and to do that, he'd need to figure out where he could’ve gone.
Tenna gathered his things—notepad, revolver, cigarettes—and left for what was known as Card Kingdom by the docks.
King's turf was situated right on the water, and there were several large, unassuming buildings that created almost a wall separating the four turfs of Card Kingdom. Sketchy characters roamed the streets, and eyes followed Tenna everywhere he went.
Tenna approached the doors of what seemed to be a warehouse. He was led inside by a few of King's men, guiding him through a maze of boxes and conveyor belts to a small office in the back of the building. The lackeys hesitated to let Tenna in, knowing the kind of trouble he brought them when he solved the case of that missing girl, but they let him in anyway. King's orders.
King sat like a boulder behind a tiny desk, chewing on a cigar and peering down the bridge of his nose at Tenna. The whole room had a certain tension to it. Nothing Tenna wasn't used to, but tense nonetheless.
King eyed the men standing around, and with a nod of his head, they all left the room, leaving Tenna and King alone.
"Please, Mr. Tenna, have a seat." King gestured to a chair in front of the tiny desk.
It didn't seem fit for a king at all.
Tenna sat in the rather uncomfortable chair, pulling out his notebook and a pen.
"Would you like a drink, Mr. Tenna? We import the finest liquors in the city." King offered, picking up a glass and a decanter full of a dark liquid.
"I suppose I can't refuse."
King poured Tenna a drink, and Tenna watched the way his hand shook as he held the decanter. The way his face contorted into something softer, sadder. The clear repressed emotion behind the hard exterior.
"I'm sorry we have to meet here. Usually, I would have you come to my main office, but—" King seemed to choke on his words. "But I have pictures of my boy everywhere in there."
There was a beat of silence, and Tenna noticed King clenching his large fist on his lap.
"I don't know who could've done this, Mr. Tenna. Somebody had to’ve taken him. He’s never run off like this. I said goodnight to him around ten o’clock and by five o’clock, he was gone.”
"Well, let's start with your enemies. Surely, you've got plenty of those, so who do you think is capable of taking him?" Tenna readied his notebook and pen.
"The other Kings of Card Kingdom and I are in a truce. We leave each other alone and occasionally, we work together. I respect them and they respect me. I don't think any of them would do it."
Tenna made a few marks in his notepad.
"There's Queen in the inner city. That bitch has had it out for me for years. My ex wife. She loves Lancer, so maybe she's trying to keep him from me."
Tenna looked surprised. He had no idea they had history like that, but it certainly made her a prime suspect.
"There's also this merchant called Seam here by the docks. They used to work for me, but I had to give 'em the boot after they ratted out one of my best men. Ever since, I've been trying to get them away from here, but they won't budge."
Tenna made some more notes.
"The only other person I can think of that might've done this could be this dickhead they call Mr. Society. Believe it or not, I owe him money. But he's a joke. So, maybe not."
Tenna closed his notepad and straightened up. "Well, this is a good start. I'll work as quickly as I can, but there are other cases that I'm working on, too, so—"
"Does a missing child not take priority, Mr. Tenna?" King's voice boomed.
"No, of course, it does. But I can only work as fast as I can gather evidence, and sometimes that doesn't happen in a timely manner." Tenna stood. "I hope you understand if it takes some time."
There was a noticeable shift in King's posture. He seemed angry, like the possibility of this taking more than one day was unacceptable.
"Listen, Mr. Tenna, I want my boy found as soon as possible. I chose you for the job because you get shit done, right? If it helps," King slid a fat envelope across the desk. "I can pay you a little extra to work a little faster."
Tenna hesitantly grabbed the envelope. He didn't bother counting the money, he knew it was way more than his usual commission fee.
"Please, Mr. Tenna. If you find my son, I will forever be in your debt. Anything you want, I can make it happen. Just—" King sniffled, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Please, find him."
"I'll do everything I can."
Tenna turned to leave, looking briefly over his shoulder at the saddened King.
He'd never been hired by such a high-ranking boss before. He knew this would be more dangerous than his typical case. After all, he's dealing with the cartel, and one wrong move could result in his disappearance.
When he returned to his car, Tenna let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked at his notepad, at everything he has gathered so far. He figured the first place he should look is wherever Mr. Society hangs around. King says he's a joke, and Tenna hopes that that's true. If King owes him money, perhaps kidnapping Lancer was recompense.
It didn't take long to find Mr. Society's address. He lived just outside the docks, in a small suburb situated between TV World and Card Kingdom.
Tenna knocked on the door, and a small, timid looking man answered.
"Are you Mr. Society?" Tenna asked.
"Y-Yes. Who's asking?"
Tenna flashed his badge and answered, "Ant Tenna, PI. Mind answering a couple questions?"
Mr. Society carefully shut the door behind him, sweat beading on his brow as he trembled below Tenna's massive frame.
"Sure. A-Ask away."
"Where were you last night from around ten o’clock and five o’clock this morning?"
"I was here! I-If you don't believe me, check those security cameras!" Mr. Society pointed to cameras hanging from the edge of an adjacent building.
Tenna turned his head to look. He'll have to talk to whoever owns that building to pull the footage. But so far, this guy doesn't seem like he could stand up to King, let along kidnap his son.
"What do you know about the disappearance of the Spade King's son, Lancer?" Tenna asked.
"Lancer is missing? Oh, I bet King is a mess right now! I had no idea!"
"Do you have any idea what may have happened?"
"Well, don't tell King this, but I used to see Lancer sneak out a lot. He'd walk down the street that way around the same time every night. Midnight, I think. But I don't know a thing! Although, if you do find him, tell King I knew he was sneaking out and tried to stop him! I would've sent the rascal home if I'd known he would've gotten lost!"
Tenna was starting to understand what King meant when he said this guy was a joke.
"Do you know where he was going?" Tenna cocked his head, hoping to coax more information out of him.
"No idea. But if you go straight from here in that direction, you end up in the inner city."
There are lots of fish in the inner city. Queen is in the inner city. Maybe Lancer ran away to live with Queen considering they are like mother and son.
"One more question: why does King owe you money?" Tenna clicked his pen.
"Oh! W-Well, it's a long story, but he only owes me a hundred bucks. F-For ordering the gang pizza! I s-swear he doesn't need to pay me back! I-If he's asking, tell him it's fine! Unless he's willing to pay, then tell him to pay me back!"
"Right." Tenna had heard everything he needed to hear. Unless this guy was a great actor, there's no way he kidnapped Lancer. Still, pulling that security footage could be helpful. Especially if Lancer had snuck out and walked down this street.
King seemed insistent that someone took his son, and it would make sense if he had no idea Lancer was sneaking out. With the iron-clad security on their turf, it wouldn't be easy for someone to just sneak in.
Nor would it be for someone to sneak out.
He'd have to question the guards in Card Kingdom.
Tenna walked to the building across the street and knocked on the door. A tiny old lady opened the door with a sour expression.
"Whaddaya want?" She hissed.
"Afternoon, ma'am," Tenna started, "Ant Tenna, PI. Do you mind if I look at some security footage from your cameras?"
"You with the law?" She narrowed her eyes.
"No, ma'am. Just need to see last nights footage. That's all." Tenna raised his hands in defense.
The old lady grumbled and showed Tenna inside. She took him to a small office no bigger than a closet and sat in front of a monitor.
Tenna had to shrink down just to fit in the closet-sized office, and his antennae still scraped the ceiling at the small size.
"What time last night?" The lady asked, sounding irritated.
"Around midnight."
"Around or at midnight? Be more specific, TV-man." The lady bit.
Tenna's face twisted into one of irritation. He just wanted to get this over with. It was bad enough being in the claustrophobic closet of an office but this old hag being bitchy wasn't making it any better.
"At." Tenna articulated.
On the monitor was grainy footage of the street below, and several minutes in was Lancer walking down the street towards the inner city. Alone.
Tenna gasped and marked off Mr. Society's name from his notebook.
"Do you mind if I make a tape of this footage?" Tenna asked.
The lady tossed a blank tape at Tenna. "Knock yourself out. But when you're done, you get the hell out of here."
Tenna's next target would be in the inner city.
Queen's turf took up most of the inner city, so he would have to be careful who he spoke to and where he stepped. He knew of some fellows that worked for Queen in various shops around the city. Because they reported directly to her, perhaps he could convince them to take him to her.
Tenna happened upon one of the shops on the north side of CPU Street. Inside, was an ordinary looking shop with various wares. A little too conspicuous if you asked him.
One of the workers, a Swatchling, noticed Tenna walk in and tilted his head.
"Can I help you, sir?" He asked.
"Yes, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find Queen, do you?" Tenna offered him a smile.
The Swatchling grimaced. "Her Majesty does not accept visitors without an appointment."
"Alright, how do I make one?"
"You can't."
Tenna frowned. This was going to be difficult.
Then, he got an idea.
"Could you at least tell a guy where he can get a good cup of coffee around here? Maybe the Queen's personal favorite?"
The Swatchling raised an eyebrow. "There's a stand down the street."
Without saying a word, Tenna walked out of the shop. He scanned the street for any more sketchy buildings until he spotted the coffee stand.
If there was one thing he learned about this city, it's that the coffee shop owners know everyone, and if they don't know everyone, they know someone that knows everyone.
Tenna approached the stand. The first thing he noticed was the egregiously overpriced coffee. Seriously, who's gonna pay $5 for a cup of black coffee?
Tenna slammed a bill on the stand. "Black coffee, please."
The stand owner looked Tenna up and down. "Aren't you that detective fella? Mr. Tenna?"
"I am."
See, coffee stand owners know everybody.
"What brings you into our neck of the woods today?"
"I'm looking for Queen. Any idea where I can find her?"
The stand owner sat the cup of coffee down in front of Tenna.
"Not sure where her headquarters is, but I know she's got one helluva night life. She talks about going to the entertainment district a lot. She goes to some of the clubs and theaters there. "
"Thanks. I appreciate the info." Tenna took a sip of his coffee and held back a face of disgust as he swallowed the nasty liquid heavily.
Tenna was beginning to walk away when the coffee stand owner called out. "You'll have to go through 97th to get there. Be careful."
Tenna nodded and continued on. What could possibly be so bad about 97th street? Surely, it isn't any worse than the rest of this city. Then again, he’s never had a reason to go down 97th.
He decided to walk, knowing everything was within a few blocks of each other. As he began to walk down 97th street, he noticed the air felt different. It wasn't empty, far from it, actually. The street was bustling with life, but everyone seemed to stare at Tenna as he walked through.
He noticed people whispering to each other and others brandishing their weapons. But Tenna kept moving forward, not making eye contact with anyone.
Without any warning, he felt something metal hit his back and someone yelling behind him.
"Gimme all your money!" The criminal shouted, pointing a pistol at Tenna's back.
Calmly, Tenna reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He raised it up slowly, but the criminal was too short to grab it.
Frustrated, the criminal yelled, "Drop it on the ground!"
Tenna did.
The wallet fell onto the ground, and the criminal lunged for it. Tenna threw a large fist at the man, connecting with his cheek and knocking him to the ground. It didn't take much effort to wrestle the gun out of his hands and throw it across the street.
The man pleaded and begged as Tenna raised his fis. "P-Please! Don't kill me, I— y-you can have your wallet, just let me go!"
Tenna huffed and grabbed his wallet out of the man's hand. He shot a look towards the crowd watching them, and everyone seemed to return to whatever they were doing.
In the distance, from a window of a tall building, someone was watching and taking mental notes of this detective who entered his turf.
Tenna mumbled to himself and lit a cigarette, continuing on towards the entertainment district. He wasn't sure where to start; clubs, bars and theaters lined the street.
He stopped into the first fancy club he saw and asked the bouncer about Queen.
"Queen? Nah, she doesn't come here. Try next door."
So, he asked the bouncer at the club next door about Queen.
"She stopped coming here after one of our bartenders argued with her about how to make a proper bloody mary. I think she goes to the one across the street now."
So, he went across the street and asked the bouncer there.
"She's on vacation, apparently."
All that searching, for nothing.
It's fine, it can be salvaged. Tenna only wasted half a day looking for Queen.
"When will she be back?" He asked, irritation bleeding into his words.
"I think her little butler guy said she's coming back on Friday."
Three days from today.
"And how long has she been gone?"
"Well, she hasn't been here since Sunday, so a few days at least."
Then Queen couldn't have kidnapped him, at least not herself, but she still might know something. She could've had her goons take the kid or might have a clue who could've.
It was getting late, and Tenna only had a small lead that could go in a million different directions. While he waited for Queen to come back to the city, there were more people he could questioned, more roads he could go down. He needed to figure out why that kid was wandering into the inner city at midnight every night.
That night, he went to Ramb's.
"Any big leads on the missing boy?" Ramb asked, pouring Tenna's drink.
"The kid apparently would sneak out every night at midnight and go into the inner city. I'm thinking tomorrow, I interview some more folks and see if they spotted the kid around town."
"That'd take a while, wouldn't it? Do you plan on interviewing everyone in the city?" Ramb tilted his head.
Tenna slumped onto the bar, frustrated and tired. He was going about this the wrong way, he just couldn't figure out why. King expected this to be solved quickly, but it felt impossible. There's a whole sector of the city that has a damn good reason to retaliate against King. It felt like it could be anyone.
The whole thing left a sour taste in Tenna's mouth. There had to be someone who knew anything about where this kid went.
He couldn't sleep that night. He figured it would be the first of many sleepless nights over this case. There was a lot riding on it, of course, and he knew that if he didn't solve it quickly, King would have his head.
It still rained; the sound of it pattering on the tin roof was soothing in a way, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety this case was already bringing him.
And it didn't help that his Lightner hadn't used him in a while.
Sometimes, he didn't think about it. Sometimes, it eluded him while he indulged himself in his work, and he could ignore the terrible emptiness that came with longing for his purpose to be fulfilled.
Tenna felt useless. A worthless piece of junk that his Lightner didn't bother to use.
Okay, maybe he was overthinking it just a little bit.
Still, he just wanted to feel good about something.
Like he used to.
The morning had come slow as usual, but the rain had stopped. Tenna had dreaded working today, but he knew he couldn't ignore his duty. He made sure he was in early, working on his game plan for the day.
By nine o'clock, he'd made several phone calls and rewatched the security footage he had taken about a hundred times, trying to figure out where Lancer was going and why.
It felt like he was getting nowhere fast. He still needed to question that merchant, Seam, and see what they knew.
Then, his assistant called to him.
"You got a call. Won't say who it is, but it seems urgent."
Tenna sighed, thinking it's just someone calling to hire him. Or another prank call. He seemed to get a lot of those lately.
"Hello?"
"I have information about the boy." The voice spoke.
Tenna's antennae stood straight up, and he scrambled to grab his notepad.
"What do you know?"
"Not so fast, Mr. Tenna. It'll cost you."
Tenna scoffed. The nerve.
"Who is this?"
"Meet me at the diner on 97th in an hour."
The voice hung up before Tenna could get another word in.
What the hell was that?
If this was legitimate, this could be huge.
"Trace that call I just got." Tenna shouted out to his assistant.
He waited for a minute before she called back, "Payphone."
"Shit." Tenna mumbled.
The diner on 97th.
He hoped to the Angel this asshole really had information.