Part 3: Gone With The Mark

The light of the cigarette faded out as it flew through the air. Detective McMarkus grunted as he rolled up the car window.

His radio crackled to life, "Bravo-Two-Six, status..."

He thought for a moment about just ignoring the call, pretending the radio had broke and just heading back to the station. He'd be sitting in a parking lot across from a bar called Mo-Town for the better part of the night. The police had received information from a fairly reliable source that suggested two men responsible for the killing of an undercover office two weeks previous would be meeting there that night. The two also had strong ties to the drug trade in the city which made them more than a little dangerous and also meant there were most likely not alone. Most officers wouldn't go near a situation like this without a SWAT team around the corner, but McMarkus was what some on the force liked to call somewhat reckless. The rest of them thought he was the second coming of Columbo only with a much worse addiction to coffee and enough cigarettes in the run of a day that a few were sure his lungs had adapted to it and no longer could survive on oxygen alone for long periods of time.

Like Columbo he was good at what he did and had a strong close rate on his cases. There was the occasional accusation of excessive force that came against him, but it always came from the unlucky criminals. The kind of criminal that seemed to have the most unfortunate luck. A few were reportedly seen falling into heavy traffic, several overdosed on heroin. The pitfalls of criminal life is what most people attributed it to. He had a few cases that were left unsolved over the years, but those he couldn't be blamed for. In each case the prime suspect in the investigations realized the police were getting close and they disappeared without a trace, never to be heard from by even friends or family again. This caused some rumors of a leak in the department but nothing ever came of the subsequent investigation.

"Two-Six, you alive?" the radio said to him.

A dark limo pulled up to the ropes at the entrance across the street and he watched as the guards got on their radios, hopefully calling for their boss to come meet his guest.

"Wait one, possible subject arriving." You ignorant witch he didn't include.

Sure enough moments later, local entrepreneur and reputed drug czar Miles Dijon came out of the doors flanked by his two omnipresent personal guards. He walked down the steps smiling broadly with his arms open to greet the man exiting the limo. Fleks Barrovich, a towering gorilla of a man rumored to be from Siberia and raised in a prison camp, happily returned the embrace. The two exchanged smiling words for a moment before moving up the stairs to the club. Fleks turned and shouted something to his driver before turning, putting his headdress on, and entering the bright booming door.
"Two-Six to Central, subjects on sight. I'm on my way into the building. Out" McMarkus said as he tossed the radio onto the seat of the car. Next came his badge and gun which he hid under the seat. He rose out of the car ignoring the shouts coming from his radio. If he was ever going to get his ass in there it had to be right now.

Tonight was Carnivale night at Mo-Town. It was a well known fact seeing as it was one of the loudest events to hit the city. Admission was only allowed if you were dressed for the occasion as well. McMarkus tossed his jacket into the car as he shut the door. His clothing could only be compared to the Chiquita Banana girl-esque. He had a grass skirt, a green leaf and coconut bikini and similar to Fleks Barrovich a large headdress with grapes, bananas and other assorted plastic fruit. It had taken him nearly six hours to assemble it after he'd been informed of where his two suspects would be that night. Part of him was proud of it, the rest of him wanted to shoot everyone who laid eyes on him. Getting into the club didn't take long at all, it usually doesn't when you slip the doorman a $50 bill and give him a knowing wink. Once inside the flashing lights and thumping bass were nearly enough to overwhelm Detective McMarkus. He managed to squeeze his way through the crowded floor to one of the bars. It took him three tries until he found one that wasn't only serving cocktail drinks and he slammed back three shots of whiskey to numb his mind a little to block out some of the surroundings. Then he grabbed one of the brightly coloured slushy drinks that had a tiny umbrella and a straw in order to blend in with the crowd before making his way around the room trying to get a glimpse of his prey. It didn't take long. The trick was not to look for them, but to look for the two ox-guards that went everywhere Dijon went. With those two always watching for threats it wasn't going to be easy to get near them. As it happens, fate was on his side in this matter. As he approached the lounge in the back of the club where they were gathered, a girl came out of nowhere from the crowd and walked directly into him without saying a word. He was surprised, not only because he hadn't seen her coming, but she had barley brushed past him yet it was as if she were a truck moving past him. He watched as the she continued on her way without ever looking back. An outstretched hand appeared in his face offering him help to his feet. When he rose he saw it was none other that Barrovich who assisted him. "You are good?" He spoke in heavily accented, ye confident sounding English.

McMarkus composed himself a moment before replying, "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for the hand."
"Come." Barrovich spoke again, signaling toward the back lounge, "My friend own club. We get you drink to apologize for rude customer."
The Detective was about to decline the invitation but as the monster wrapped his arm around his shoulders and started walking he realized he had little choice in the matter. They entered the middle of the room as Dijon was coming out from around the private bar. He glanced him over quickly before inquiring in French accented English even though he was able to speak both languages flawlessly.
"Who is this now? A new friend" Dijon gave the detective a disarming smile but it did not make him feel any more at ease"
"Small tattoo girl knock him down. Spill drink. I take back to show apology. Get new drink." he laughed, chuckling loudly as he patted the detective roughly on the back. "It's really no trouble, I can just go back out." McMarkus said as he started to turn back to the main floor.
"Nonsense, have a seat at the table, I don't want any of my patrons feeling disrespected in any way when they come here Mister…?"

"Carson." answered the detective.
Dijon indicated a small table in the corner surrounded by plush chairs. "Very well, Mr. Carson, have a seat and we shall join you for a drink."

His mind raced as he walked over. What was he thinking? What could he possibly accomplish by being here? How can he get away from this mess? The questions continued to barrage his mind. He looked up as Fleks reached over the bar to grab some bottles in order to replenish their glasses. Dijon was speaking with a waiter for a moment and sent him on his way with a pat on the behind. They both were beginning to make their way over to join him when someone came through the two massive guards. It was hard to tell from there in the dark with all the flashing lights but it seemed to be the doorman from outside. They spoke quickly and appeared concerned about something. The doorman headed back outside as Fleks and Dijon were talking lowly looking out amongst the dance floor.
The Detective rose from his seat, "Is there a problem?"

Dijon looked at him before saying, "Non monsieur, just an issue outside that's becoming bothersome."

McMarkus just nodded and then Barrovich added, "Is police."

"What?"

"Police are outside. They are great annoyance. If brave to come in here I crush them all." the grim look on his face and the way he slammed his fist into his open palm assured McMarkus that he was not exaggerating in the least.

Dijon walked over with a hand towards Fleks, "It's ok, calm down." before turning to the Detective, "It's really nothing, just with a club like this and having a more international crowd we tend to attract unnecessary attention for the local law enforcement. It seems that my security found a car outside that contained a badge and a weapon. Maybe it's just a patron who happens to be an officer, some of my employees just get worked up over little things. Like Fleks here, back in Siberia he didn't exactly have a good relationship with their police." He smiled and then looked back at the Detective. "Is something wrong? You seem a little on edge all of the sudden."

McMarkus thought or a moment before saying, "Well it's just, they make me nervous too, I kinda of have an outstanding warrant. Over nothing really I promise. Just a misunderstanding between myself and an ex, you know how these things work." he said trying to be as sheepish as possible.

"Ahh I see," Dijon said knowingly, "I'll have the boys show you the back door so you can avoid any possible trouble."

With that he signalled the two giants to show the detective the exit to the alley. Even though McMarkus was sure if they knew the truth about who he was they would gladly tear him apart, he felt oddly at ease walking between them to the door. That Dijon really knew what he was doing having them around was the last thought through his mind after he exited the door. The there was a great flash of light. A deafening roar. Gunshots? They were so close to his head it felt like it might explode. He fell forward. There was no pain other than the feeling that his skull had been crushed. He rolled over and saw the outline of a dark figure lean over and look at the two now dead bodyguards. His ears were ringing still but he thought he heard the figure curse. A hand reached out, picked him up and stood him to his feet. Eyes looked into his, they were dark, with long slits of orange down the middle like a cat would have. A voice spoke, like no voice he'd heard before. It was as if they were speaking inside his head.

"What just happened does not concern you. Go on your way and do not look back. Report nothing of this occurrence."

McMarkus nodded without thinking it and started walking down the alley. His head was still echoing nearly two blocks away when he heard a phone ring. It was coming from him somewhere, but he didn't recall ever having his phone with him and the ring wasn't his. Sure enough when he looked there was a small phone attached to the waistband of the skirt he still wore. He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear.

"Hello Detective McMarkus." The voice was female, vaguely familiar in some way but he couldn't think of where he'd heard it.

"Who is this?" he asked after a moment.

"I want you to do me a favour. I need you to meet me somewhere." It replied seductively.

"I said who is this?" his voice gave away his nervousness, something he never did. What was it about this voice that troubled him?

"I'm a friend." She replied.

Every bit of his gut was telling him she was lying. With everything that happened already that night he just figured he might as well go along with it for now. He looked at the street signs above him to get his location after she told him where to meet her. It wasn't far.

"Fine, I'll be there soon, friend."

The line was already dead. He reached the crossroads where he was told to be after a short walk. Not though, before trading the phone for a cigarette with a homeless man he met along the way. He stood there staring at the middle of the street at a glowing object of some sort. He wasn't sure how long he stood there before two other figures appeared. First a female that was dressed like a janitor but didn’t carry herself like one and even through her coveralls he could tell she did not have the body of a janitor. Moments after her a man dressed as a school girl, long curly wig and all arrived. They startled each other and stared for a moment not saying anything before he coughed to get there attention. Something about the way the girl was startled by the presence of others told him she wasn't the one who had called him. This is going to be interesting he thought to himself before tossing the cigarette aside and watching it fade as it flew through the air.