Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Problem Sleuth just doesn’t know where he went wrong. Maybe he should have just kept to himself? Kept his mouth shut? Stuck to helping old ladies find their lost cats instead of tacking “murder” to his list of things he’d investigate? He mulls about this for a moment, before shifting slightly, still half out of it. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in his side and head that brought him out of the fog he was in, and he swore a blue streak when it didn’t pass.

Once again, Sleuth thinks, he’s managed to wake up in agonizing pain.

He doesn’t remember anything from last night. That’s always his favorite part about these incidents, especially since his brain tends to like to wait to tell him exactly what went down. He thinks hard for a moment, and then frowns, staring up at the dark ceiling. Usually there’s some feeling of “something happened”, like a dream that you know you had, but can’t recall at all.

But there’s nothing he can come up with. There’s a black hole in his mind, not allowing him to remember anything from the night before.

He files away how concerning that is, in favor of slowly making himself sit up and immediately making a noise better suited to a dying man. Everything hurts a lot more than he’d first realized, and he dimly wonders if he’d been jumped the night before, and if that’s why everything’s so strange.

After a few moments of sitting, Sleuth shakily manages to get up to his feet. The room he’s in (and it seems like a room, far too large to be a closet or something) is pitch black, and he would like to fix that immediately. He presses up against the wall, walking slow and using his hands as a guide to anything possibly sharp in it. After a few moments of aimless stumbling, his hand nudges against a switch, and he flips it, steeling himself for whatever horrors await him in the room.

The reality of the room was a lot better than what his mind had conjured up. After all, it was just his bedroom, and not torture room he’d expected. Maybe he really had just had a bad night, after all. He glances around, noting that the whole place looks more ransacked than usual, which probably means he didn’t come home unattended. It’s pretty worrying, but it’s not like there’ll be any clues that go missing if he doesn’t immediately start sorting through his messy room.

The next thing to do was to give himself a thorough once-over and see which, if any, bits of his were missing. A few bruises there, a spatter of blood that was too old to be from last night here... There was an amazingly small amount of any kind of injury that he could see, and even all the aching wasn’t enough to count as anything serious. This was honestly baffling, as he’d had good nights where he’d come home practically bleeding out on his couch.

Sleuth didn’t like it at all. It was one thing to not remember things from last night, but it was quite another to not even have any evidence on his body. It felt unnatural.

He manages to stumble his way out of his room into his kitchen/living room mix, which seems to have been less overturned than everything else. Sleuth sighed in relief, and walked over to his cupboards, searching to see if there was enough coffee left to make anything worth drinking. After a few moments of frantic rummaging, he finds a miraculously unopened can, probably hidden for specifically this kind of scenario.

Getting coffee ready was as second nature to him as making perfect tea was to Inspector, and Sleuth’s thoughts were able to wander as he worked his magic.

He remembered…coming home last night, definitely. Yesterday hadn’t been particularly interesting, in fact it’d kind of dragged on in the office. He remembered vividly making paper airplanes at one point and trying to see if he could shoot them into Ace’s office somehow. He couldn't, but the point is that it was just…such a normal, boring day. He can’t imagine anything particularly exciting happening afterwards.

He was jolted from his thoughts when he heard, of all things, his name on the radio. This wasn’t exactly uncommon, but the announcer’s tone was pretty much the opposite of the one usually used to talk about Team Sleuth. Sleuth’s mind automatically jumped to the worst possible thing to happen, and he turned up the volume, looking anxious.

“-Once again, that’s Problem Sleuth that the police are looking for. He is considered both armed and dangerous, and it is suggested that you do not approach him.” Sleuth stared at the radio in disbelief, unsure of what to make of the announcement for a moment.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been officially labelled by the police as “armed and dangerous” before. Sure, he’d been called that, usually by a particularly frustrated police officer, but on the radio? In a bulletin? It was new, and not in a way he enjoyed.

He clicked the radio off as the news report went into other things, and in the sudden silence of the apartment, he heard the unmistakable sound of his front door being unlocked. All thoughts of beginning to unravel this personal case were lost as he vaulted over the table and into his room before the door had a chance to open. His landing was not kind, but that was second to the sound of the door creaking open noisily.

He scrambled for his key, swearing to himself when he couldn’t find it in any of the normal places he leaves it in, and he has no time to go on a full house hunt. Luckily whoever had gone through his bedroom had seen fit to leave his knives untouched, and he snatched one up before pressing himself tight against his bedroom wall and listening.

Whoever was in his house had heavy footsteps, so it was at least one big lug. Sleuth cursed under his breath. His knives were nice, but the old adage of not bringing a knife to a gun fight became popular for a damn good reason. He wasn’t exactly in the best shape to actually fight anyone anyway, or make even the most barebones of escapes without getting hurt further somehow. He would probably have to depend on his pulchritude in order to make it out of this without getting shot.

GPI, he hadn’t even been able to get a cup of coffee in before someone came breaking down his door. How on earth was he expected to function properly before actually getting caffeine in  him?

“Sleuth?” A voice called out, light and nervous and absolutely not matching the harsh steps he had heard. It takes Sleuth an embarrassingly long moment to put things together, and then he sighs in utter relief. Ah, thank god.

“Hey, Pickle!” He said, shoving his knife into his coat and running his hand through his hair as he steps out of his room. He’s grinning and relaxed for the first time since he’s woken up. “Man, you’re never gonna believe what I had to put up with today-” Sleuth breaks off, once he finally recognizes what is actually happening in front of him.

Pickle Inspector was holding a pistol up to Sleuth’s chest. His hands were trembling slightly, and Sleuth could not properly remember the last time he’d ever seen that happen with Inspector. Ace Dick was standing just behind him, hands clenched at his sides and clearly ready for a fight. While Sleuth’s mind reeled, Inspector spoke. Sleuth, please, I-I...I don’t want to hurt you. So, just…come quietly, a-alright?” His voice was shaking as hard as his hands were, and he was looking at Sleuth as if he was a walking time bomb, set to go off at the slightest motion. Sleuth, for his part, took a page out of the Inspector’s book and ogled him in disbelief.

“The hell are you talkin’ about, Inspector? Why’re you suddenly treating me like-”

“Like the criminal you are.” Ace growled, suddenly walking forward and grabbing Sleuth by his tie. Sleuth went down, wincing but relieved that the tie wasn’t being pulled hard enough to actually choke him. Ace pulled him down until he could look Sleuth in the eye and just glared for a moment, ignoring the Inspector’s fretting in the background. Sleuth stared open mouthed at him, uncomprehending.

“What?” Apparently something in his voice gives Ace pause, and he squints up at him. Sleuth’s expression doesn’t change, and he starts gesturing wildly as he tries not to choke himself out on his tie. “I mean, look, I heard that bit on the radio, but I have no clue what’s going on!” He glances around, stuffing his hands in his pockets and chewing on his lip.

Ace doesn’t let go of his tie, but he does ease his grip enough for Sleuth to straighten up a bit. Ace is looking at him like he’s not sure at all what to think, and Inspector is staring at him with wide eyes. Then, slowly, Inspector lowers his gun, and Ace spins on him, hands balled into fists.

“What the hell!”

“I-I don’t believe that Sleuth knows what’s going on. It wouldn’t be right to do anything without letting him know first.” Inspector said, his voice not nearly as confident as Sleuth wished it would be, in this situation. Ace tugged at what little hair he had left, looking annoyed.

“C’mon, don’t let the asshole fool you! He’s prolly using that pultriwhasis, t’convince you!” Ace stared hard at Inspector for a moment more, but when it was obvious that he wasn’t about to back down, he threw his hands up. “Fine! But if he fucking shanks you, I ain’t helping you any!” Ace stormed off towards the kitchen, headed right for the fridge.  Sleuth made a mental note to get proper compensation for all the alcohol Ace was going to drink. Then he turned back to the Inspector with a thousand watt smile, which had absolutely no effect on him after years of hanging around Sleuth.

“Hey, thanks for not shooting me, Pickle. So, uh, hows about you bring me up to speed? You know I hate being outta the loop. Especially when it’s about me.” Sleuth did his very best to keep a cheerful tone in his voice, but the Inspector regarded him so gravely it made his smile falter.

“Yes, alright. Take a seat, Sleuth. We have a lot to go over...”

Chapter Text

Sleuth insists on getting a good cup of coffee in his hands before Inspector info dumps on him. Normally when Inspector talks for a long time, Sleuth’s eyes kind of glaze over no matter how hard he tries to pay attention. But now he doesn’t think he’ll have that problem, not when it’s something so important.

Oftentimes when Inspector gets to talk about a case, he gets a little...dreamy, at points, sometimes treating the case way too much like it’s a story. But Sleuth has never seen his friend look quite so serious before. Inspector seems to take a few moments to gather himself, and Sleuth leans back in his chair and very nearly closes his eyes in bliss at the first sip of coffee.

“I-I suppose it started a few days ago... You didn’t come into the office, and you didn’t answer either of your phones, and we had just gone through and gotten them fixed again, remember?” Ah, right. Sleuth nods, remembering that vividly. That had been a pain in the ass, and not even because of the regular puzzle shit. “I-I came over to see if you were home, but you weren’t, and Dame hadn’t seen you at all, either. I suppose I should have known when there wasn’t any sign of you the next day, but I thought that perhaps you’d found an interesting case.

“B-But then you didn’t come in or call the day after that, either. A-And that’s when the police came by looking for you... According to them, you’d...killed someone. A-Among other things.” Inspector stops abruptly, and looks at Sleuth, wringing his hands and waiting for Sleuth’s response. It took a moment for what Inspector said to sink in, but when it does, Sleuth’s jaw drops.

“I...don’t remember any of that at all. Last thing I remember is comin’ home after a night out. And I sure as hell didn’t murder anyone!” Sleuth said, and paused, before continuing and sounding much more indignant. “You said a few days passed? How the hell could I possibly have been out for that long?”

He could hear the rising hysteria in his voice, and took a large sip of coffee to cover it up. The scalding heat seemed to help a bit, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Nothing was going to be fixed by him freaking out, and him freaking out would probably only pass that on to the other two, which he certainly did not need.

This was a lot worse than simply being knocked around and having a bit of short term memory loss. This was days gone, and with nothing to show for it but an apparent extension on his rap sheet and a sense of dread. This is honestly something Sleuth, in all the shenanigans he’s ever been thrust into, hasn’t ever dealt with. Worst of all, he’s been thrust into the deep end of this without even having a chance to prepare himself.

Obviously, something was going to have to be done about all this.

Sleuth realized he’d been staring into the dregs of his coffee for far too long, and that Inspector had been waiting very patiently for him to snap out of it. He gave him a sheepish smile, before standing and setting his cup down in what he thinks is a very decisive manner. He was already starting to form a plan in his head.

“Alright, so. I didn’t do it. And if I did, it wasn’t under my own influence. So.” Sleuth made a broad gesture with his arm, nearly knocking over his coffee in the process. “What we have to do is get to the bottom of this, right? Gotta go out there and figure out why I took a 180° directly into crime, and why I can’t remember any of it!”

Inspector chewed on his lip, looking a bit thoughtful and a lot worried.

“Ah...Sleuth, don’t you think you should be careful? Were you listening to the radio? They’re very serious about catching you... ” He said, wringing his hands and looking hopeful, like his words will help Sleuth see some sense. “I-I believe that is going to be detrimental to any and all investigation. A-At least if you got involved.” Sleuth just waved a hand, looking unconcerned.

“Well, yeah, but only if I was an idiot. I mean, Ace here-”

“Fuck off, Sleuth.”

“-would probably just rush into this! But hey, you know I’ve worked undercover before, right? And no one suspected a thing!”

“A-Actually-” Inspector attempted to get a word in, pointing out how that particular case had gone, but Sleuth just interrupted him with a huge grin.

“Exactly.” He sounded excited, probably from the prospect of being the client, suspect, and investigator in a case. Things like that usually only happened in detective movies, after all. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make myself look inconspicuous.” His grin grew mischievous, and he tossed his hat at Inspector as he backed away towards his bedroom.

--

Your name is Pickle Inspector, and this is absolutely absurd.

Normally, you’re rather fond of Sleuth. He can be quite overbearing most of the time, but in the long run, he’s intelligent and your friend. However, sometimes you can’t quite stop yourself from thinking rude things about his foolhardiness. Nothing you’d ever say out loud, of course (though you’ve put it on your notes once or twice).

He’s hardly taking this as seriously as it warrants, you feel. Sometimes you just want to shake him, for how much he can treat real things actually happening like a detective novel.

You set his hat on the table a safe distance away from anywhere the coffee might get and stand, almost instantly falling into your nervous habit of pacing up and down the small length of the kitchen, glad that Ace is still digging through Sleuth’s fridge, so you can’t see him undoubtedly rolling his eyes.

It worries you that you can’t tell if Sleuth is telling the truth, or if he’s faking ignorance. You don’t want to be wrong about this, because you know that Sleuth could make himself into a very impressive criminal if he put his mind to it even a little bit. There were none of the usual tells of a liar, so normally you would be calmed, but this is also the same man you’ve personally witnessed charming his way into a literal den of thieves.

He’s never used that particular stat on you for anything more devious than taking you out on the town, but you’ve seen stranger things happen. Sighing, you lean against the wall and rub your temples, trying to calm your absolutely shredded nerves for the first time in the past three days. Ace sits in your recently vacated seat, and you politely ignore him, since he almost never likes talking to you-

“So, y’think he’s tellin’ the truth?” Ace said, staring sullenly into the beer he’d managed to nick from Sleuth’s fridge. You stand up a little straighter, blinking in surprise. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with the question, and Ace’s face gets decidedly more impatient.

“I...I can’t tell.” You say, sighing and crossing your arms. “I suppose it would be a stroke of fortune if he was, but that would make everything much more complicated...” Ace grunts, and you can only assume that he agrees, since he hasn’t said anything remotely rude, which is...odd. You suppose that he might be more disturbed by this than he’s letting on.

You can’t quite think about other possibilities for very long, however, as Sleuth chooses that very moment to come sauntering out of his room. At least...you assume it’s Sleuth.

It’s only a moment of uncertainty, of course, but it stills speaks volumes that it was even a moment. Perhaps you had been quick to judge, earlier.

He still has blond hair, and his eyes are still the same green, but that’s about where the similarities end. He’s wearing a (clean) white shirt, a dark blue vest you weren’t even aware he owned, black slacks, and a tie that doesn’t clash at all. And not a single item he’s wearing looks remotely rumpled, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t own an iron so you can’t fathom how he pulled that off.

But it’s the way that he’s holding himself that throws you off the most. The Sleuth you’re used to always stands up as tall as he possibly can, and uses his large personality to fill a room easily. But now...he seems average, standing with a bit of a slouch that isn’t just him trying to get the perfect angle, and there’s only a fraction of the familiar confidence in him.

There’s a moment of that, before Sleuth grin’s broadly, likely at the expressions on both of your faces. It brings back a certain level of familiarity, which is a relief.

“Pretty convincing, huh? Just wait, okay, hold on, I have the best part that’ll put it all together!” Sleuth sounds entirely too excited, and starts patting down his pockets, grinning in triumph after a few moments and taking out a pair of...glasses? You stare at him, because what is he even doing with those? Does he wear them normally?

Ace shakes his head, still staring, before taking a long swig of his beer. You don’t quite blame him, and if you didn’t despise how beer tasted you would want one as well. The glasses don’t change much, but it’s just wrong enough that it makes you feel vaguely uncomfortable.

“Holy GPI, you look like a total wuss, Sleuth.” Ace says, and gives a derisive snort at the disappointed look you fix him with.

“Really, Ace, th-that’s so rude-” Sleuth cuts you off and waves a hand, looking pleased, though you most certainly did not miss that look of irritation that passed over Sleuth’s face.

“Nah, Pickle, it’s fine! That’s kinda the whole point of the look; if people think I’m a total bookworm, it’ll be easier to catch ‘em off guard, right? Who’ll think that Problem Sleuth is wearing a sweatervest, after all?” Sleuth sounds cheerful, shoving his hands in his pocket in an obvious attempt not to start gesturing again. “And Ace, stop drinking all my booze, you bastard.”

“Um, Sleuth.” You say hurriedly, before Ace can even get in a word edgewise. You know how long their arguments can go on for, and the three of you don’t really have that kind of time. “Perhaps we should leave that for later? There are much more pressing matters at hand.” Sleuth almost deflates, and you mentally congratulate yourself for actually being able to stop them for once.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Alright, you can pay me back for my food later, Ace.” Sleuth says, and grabs up his hat and puts it on as he heads for the door. He opens the door and pauses in the doorway, before turning on his heel and smirking at the both of you in one of his oft-practiced moves.

“C’mon boys, we’ve got a problem to sleuth.”

Chapter Text

It was dark out by the time the three of them made it outside; a blessing in disguise, really, since Sleuth would be able to hide his identity a bit better. He squinted up into the light of the streetlamp, frowning and pulling his hat down further, for once not trying to be hardboiled. Actually being outside where he could be recognized and caught at any moment was fairly nerve-wrecking, though he made sure not to actually show that he felt that way. Instead, he turned towards the other two with a grin.

“So! I guess this is where we part ways, huh?” He said, as if they’d talked about this beforehand. All he gets in return are stares, and he does his best to avoid Inspector’s confused ogle.

“Er… Why would we do that, Sleuth?” Inspector speaks first, sounding worried. “Surely you going off by yourself is…inadvisable? You aren’t exactly…subtle.” Sleuth tried to laugh it off, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really as into it as usual, and it trailed off slightly at the end.

“I’m not very subtle, but it’s better than being in a group! Look, pretty much every cop in the city is looking for me, right? And who’s always with me?” Sleuth said, raising an eyebrow and spreading his arms wide before shrugging. “It doesn’t take any amazing detective work to figure out who’s the third guy with the two detectives, even if he looks more dorky than usual.”

Inspector frowned, but there really wasn’t any way of arguing with that. It was the truth, after all. Even with Sleuth looking like he did, they were a fairly recognizable trio.

“…I suppose, then, that you would have us…working together?” Even though he tried to hide it, Inspector didn’t sound particularly enthused by the idea. Ace scoffed a little bit from where he was standing, crossing his arms and looking at Inspector with a scowl.

“I ain’t gonna be hangin’ around beanpole all night while you go off and have fun, Sleuth!” He says, and Inspector is barely able to sputter out a few words about polite nicknames before the other two ignore him. “If we’re gonna split up we should go in teams that’ll actually get shit done.”  

“Aw, c’mon, Ace! If you really feel like that, you two could just split up! We’d all cover more ground that way, right?” Sleuth spoke confidently, and was already backing away slowly from the other two as they glanced doubtfully at one another. “It’s just too dangerous for me to stick around, that’s all! So, I’ll be going, and you two can argue amongst yourselves for a bit! It’s a win-win.”

“…Fine, Sleuth. Just…be careful, okay? If you get recognized and arrested-”

“I know, Pickle! This ain’t the first time I’ve been accused of murder, okay? I’ve got experience.” Sleuth gives a sharp little wave, before turning on his heel and heading off down the dark street.

He might feel a little bad for splitting up their little group normally, but he knew from experience that cases were hardly ever solved when you ended up in prison. And if Pickle and Ace were caught hanging around him, they might be arrested as accomplices, and then they’d all be stuck while some imposter was running around still committing crimes!

And if it wasn’t an imposter, Sleuth would much rather find that out when he was alone, rather than have it happen surrounded by people with guns.

His first stop of the night was Dame and Broad’s brothel, since it was both close and he knew very well that clearing things up with Dame would save him a lot of chainsaw-related troubles later on. Plus, Broad and Dame were invaluable in cases that required a lot of information; their connections network astounded Sleuth on the regular.

As he approaches the brothel, Sleuth takes out a cigarette and is fully prepared to finally smoke after who knows how long. He passes an alleyway, when a hand reaches out and yanks him into the darkness by the collar of his shirt. He choked for a moment, but in no time at all he was shoved up against the brick wall and there was the far too familiar feeling of a knife being shoved up against his neck.

There’s a click, and a small flame from a lighter illuminates the person in front of him. Unsurprisingly, it’s Slick, even more sharp angles than normal with his teeth bared nearly to Sleuth’s neck.

“What in th’hell do you think you’re doin’!” Slick said with a sizable amount of disdain in his voice, before squinting further into the dim light and looking displeased. “And what in the hell are you wearin’?”

Sleuth was too surprised to answer for a moment, because as far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything to the crew in the last little while. He guesses that “he’s” gotten up to more than the news was reporting, if even the Crew is mad at “him”.

“Well, you’re going to be a bit more specific than that, Slick. I’ve done so many things recently, and I’m pretty sure you’re not talking about just walking down the street. Somehow I doubt that’s an offense to a criminal.” Sleuth said, pausing to take his glasses off and put them in his pocket. Broken glass in your face was never, ever fun. “And if you must know, I figured I’d be a bit more fashionable.” A quiet scoff from the darkness further into the alleyway tells him that Droog’s here, which makes everything just a bit more worrisome.

“I’m pretty damn sure you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, asshole! I’d say it’d be pretty much impossible to forget all the bullshit you did this week!” Slick snarls the words, before making a disgusted face and flicking the lighter closed. Now they could barely see each other, and Sleuth didn’t bother hiding his surprised expression. Whatever he’d done must have been either really badass or really, really bad. Probably both, actually.

“Uh, refresh my memory?” Sleuth grinned, trying not to seem half as out of the loop as he really was. Slick makes a noise that reminds Sleuth of a cat that’s been tossed into cold water, and he grimaces a little bit. Normally he doesn’t mind dealing with an irritated Slick all that much, but then usually he knows what’s actually making Slick mad.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I swear to god-“ Slick shouts this, before cutting himself off and groaning loudly in what is obviously frustration. Sleuth leans further into the brick as the knife gets closer, and tries not to swallow too obviously.

“I swear, Slick, I don’t have a clue what I did to piss you off so badly. Wait- Were you the one who trashed my apartment? ‘Cause that was pretty shitty of you, if you did.” Sleuth said, frowning a bit at the thought. If the Crew were behind that, then that would solve at least one question…And raise about a thousand more.

“What?” Slick scoffed. “No, you idiot, I didn’t do shit to that pigsty you call an apartment. If I had, it woulda been burned to the ground. Fuck, I can’t even stand you like this. You tryin’ to irritate me, or something, ‘cause it’s workin’.”

A car passes by just as Slick takes a wide swipe at him with his knife, and the headlights are just bright enough to let Sleuth duck under his arm and scramble over to the other side of the alleyway. He hits the wall a bit harder than he’d intended, so it takes a moment of grimacing at the pain in his hands before he realizes there’s someone next to him. It doesn’t take a whole lot of detective work to realize that it’s Droog, and he tenses up, half expecting an attack from him as well.

There’s a sharp click, and Sleuth’s paranoid mind immediately jumps directly to thinking that Droog has a gun.

Instead, there’s just a soft glow and the smell of cigarette smoke, Sleuth relaxes just a bit, glad that it’s too dark for either of the gangsters to tell just how embarrassed he got. He realizes a moment later that Slick hasn’t tried to come at him again, and if he squints into the darkness a little bit he can see the other man sulking up against the wall. It seems like, for the moment, he’s not in any danger.

All he can hope is that Droog isn’t about to suggest that they take this somewhere more private.

“Slick.” Droog speaks suddenly, and it makes Sleuth nearly jump out of his skin. “As…irritating as it may be, I believe that Sleuth is telling the truth. You think someone like Sleuth would be able to keep it quiet after acting like he did this week? I’m sure you know better than that. ” Droog blew smoke out, and Sleuth would swear up and down he aimed towards his face on purpose. He tries not to cough too obviously, and almost misses Slick’s irritated growl.

“Well, shit! If it ain’t Sleuth, then who the hell is it?” He says, sounding less angry and more frustrated than before.

 “Look,” Sleuth started, and he swore he could almost feel two pairs of eyes trying to bore a hole into his face as soon as he speaks up. “As much as I hate admitting it, both of you know more than me right now. Maybe it’d help if you, uh, just told me what I don’t know?” He shifted a bit, scowling and shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s easier than you accusing me of things I can’t even properly defend myself against, anyways, don’t you think?”

There’s a pause, and then Sleuth is taken by the shoulders and roughly being shoved towards the alley’s entrance, the force being just a little kinder than a knife in the ribs.

“No, I don’t think so. Aren’t you the detective here?” Droog’s tone is barely above sneering, and he gives Sleuth the extra nudge needed to send the detective sprawling. “If it really isn’t you, then we’ll simply have to repay you for your work, won’t we.”

“Yeah, by not killin’ him!” Slick chimed in, grinning wide enough to show off all his pearly whites before following Droog down the street, back the way Sleuth had come.

Sleuth makes a rude gesture once their backs are turned to him, before getting up and dusting himself off. He picks his hat up and shoves it back onto his head, looking disgruntled. What a waste of time that was. Though, he guesses that now he knows whoever is impersonating him has enough guts to go after the Crew, and so he should probably approach them with more caution than he was going to before.

Droog being a tightass with the information was annoying, though. Sleuth wasn’t fully convinced that Droog even believed that Sleuth hadn’t done anything, he probably just wanted to wait until he messed up before killing him horribly or something. Ugh, that guy.

With a sigh, Sleuth got out a new cigarette from his pack and continued on to Dame’s place. He could already tell that it was going to be a long night, so he might as well dive headfirst into it as soon as possible.  

Chapter Text

Sleuth approached the brothel as casually as possible, trying both to seem like he absolutely belonged there, but not trying to bring any unneeded attention to himself. All thoughts of being casual were dropped when a vase was thrown through one of the front windows, and shouting was heard from inside. The other passerby scatter, panicked, but Sleuth charges right up to the front door, flinging it open.

The front room is a mess. The wooden desk that’s been there for as long as Sleuth can remember is sawed neatly in half, there’s a few burn marks on the walls, and it looks like a bottle of ink was spilled in the fray. Sleuth thought nothing of hurrying over the mess, though some part of him did wince a little bit at the trail of ink his footsteps left. Dame probably wouldn’t be happy at how casually adding onto the destruction.

Speaking of, neither Dame nor Broad are in the front room, though when Sleuth listens closely he can hear footsteps in a nearby hallway. The safest place to be is probably right where he is, since if there was a fight the girls are probably just barely coming off of their hysteria/nervous highs, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of their weapons.

Dame rounds the corner first, and Sleuth actually hopes for a moment that she won’t be too angry still. But then he sees the look of angry recognition in her eyes as soon as she spots him, and he immediately starts backing down.

“Hey, Dame! I bet you’ve got a lot of questions but I promise there’s a totally good explanation for- Whoa!” Sleuth jumped back to avoid the arc of Dame’s chainsaw. He’s definitely seen her this angry before, but usually he actually knows the details of what he’s done.

“You got a lot of god damned nerve comin’ back here, Sleuth!” Another swing. Sleuth’s always been impressed by her ability to actually control where that thing goes, though he wishes he wasn’t on the receiving end so he could appreciate it better. The noise from the chainsaw is nearly deafening in such an enclosed space, and he can’t quite focus long enough to try to defend himself.

Sleuth didn’t even manage to notice that Broad had followed Dame from around the corner until she’s behind Dame, taking her gently by the shoulders.

 “Wait, Dame! Is that the same Sleuth?” Broad looks him over, and Sleuth hasn’t ever seen her look so suspicious before. Even his smile doesn’t make it let up, and he can feel worry start to pool in the pit of his stomach. “He doesn’t look the same…” Dame, much to Sleuth’s relief, does stop for a moment, though the chainsaw in her hands is still rumbling ominously.

“I think so! He popped up in the front just after we chased him out the back!” Even so, Dame flicks her chainsaw off, though she still doesn’t drop it. “Alright, Sleuth, you said you had a reason for all this shit. It’d better be a good one, because I’m not feeling real charitable at the moment.”

Sleuth just nodded after a moment, ears still ringing from the sudden silence. Then he tried not to pace around or fidget like he normally would. Dame and Broad both seem on edge, and he doesn’t want to give either of them a reason to be pushed over.

“Alright, well, I gotta say first that whatever you know, it’s probably more than what I know. I mean, I woke up today apparently having taken on a life of crime! Which, uh, by the way I definitely wasn’t aware of doing. And now I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on, so really anything you can tell me will be super helpful.” Sleuth takes in a deep breath once he finishes speaking, and it’s a relief that Broad and Dame are looking thoughtful, rather than murderous.

“Yeah, that makes more sense.” Dame’s chainsaw pops back into lipstick, and Broad starts walking around Sleuth, as if trying to confirm his words further. “Thought you looked kinda weird, but whoever it was spoke just like you, y’know? Looked like you too, almost totally.”

“The colors were kind of weird, though…” Broad stops her scrutinizing, and crosses her arms. Sleuth can’t help but to fidget a little bit, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, come on then. The front room is hardly suitable for talking, right now.”

She took Dame by the hand, and they both started off towards a side office with Sleuth trailing slightly behind. It felt like there…something in his pocket? He hasn’t worn any of this outfit in ages, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d managed to forget something the last time he did. It felt vaguely square, and Sleuth’s first thought was that it could possibly be money.

With some excitement at the prospect of finding something that might actually cheer him up today, Sleuth collapsed next to Dame and Broad on the couch they had ended upon, and brought his hand out.

What came out was not money, and for a moment Sleuth was disappointed. But then Dame snatched them out of his hands at the same moment that he realized what they actually were.

“What the hell? Where did you get these pictures, Sleuth?” She said, and both Broad and Sleuth looked over her shoulders to get a better look.

The photographs were clearly taken from a surveillance system of some sort, with the photo’s angle as high up as it looked to be. Upon closer look the setting was clearly a bank, and it seemed as though these particular photos were from a robbery. Sleuth makes a wordless sound of surprise and insult, as the robber in question is wearing some extremely familiar clothes. In fact…even the height and build of the person in the picture seemed suspiciously familiar to Sleuth’s own.

Except for, of course, in the picture where the doppelgänger was looking directly into the camera, where his eyes were clearly just black holes where regular irises and pupils should be. Sleuth stares at the picture for a moment, before sitting back against the couch and staring off into space for a moment.

“Did the me that came in here earlier look like that?” He asks, after a moment more of silence.

“N-Not really… His eyes certainly weren’t like that, and…” Broad taps a finger onto the picture, brow furrowed. “His hair was darker than that. I’d thought it was a wig you were wearing, but now with those eyes… Well, I suppose it makes sense that it wasn’t you. Where did you say you got these pictures, again?”

“I, uh. I’m not-" Sleuth was about to admit that he had no idea, but something occurs to him and he sits up straight. That absolute jackass. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. I kind of ran into Droog and Slick just before coming in here.”

“What?!” Dame sounded more annoyed than worried, which Sleuth supposed could be because he wasn’t showing any signs of having been stabbed.

“Yeah, it was kind of weird. I guess whoever’s been walking around as me did something to piss them off, so I had to deal with that fallout. But I think Droog might’ve slipped these to me. It’s the only thing that makes sense, honestly.” He takes the photos from Dame and studies them again, feeling irritation brewing in him.

Whoever was parading around as Sleuth had either stolen his clothes, or had gotten a very good copy of his usual outfit. Considering the state of his room, Sleuth isn’t terribly surprised, but it is a pain in the ass. Even after he captures this weirdo, he’s going to have a hell of a time getting his public image unsmeared.

He jumps a little bit when Dame snaps a finger in front of his face. She’s giving him that look that means he missed a piece of conversation, and he clears his throat, trying to ignore the color rising in his cheeks.

“Sorry. Kinda got lost in thought for a moment there. What were you saying?” Broad stares at him for a second, before sighing. Even that manages to make Sleuth feel worse, wow.

“I was just wondering why Droog would help you in such a way. Isn’t he usually rather interested in blocking any progress in investigations?” Broad says, tapping her fingers on the armrest of the couch. “Do you suppose that something similar happened to the Crew that happened to Dame and I? Perhaps he’s hoping you’ll fix things?”

“What?” Sleuth frowns a little bit, leaning slightly over Dame’s lap towards Broad. “What happened to you two? I mean, I can kind of guess, from the carnage out front, but I didn’t exactly get a story in between dodging chainsaw swings.”

“Well, who we thought was you came in earlier. You- They were had terrible ink stains all over their outfit, and their hair was almost pitch black. It was kind of strange, but they started out normally enough.”

“Yeah, but then they started acting really, really weird!” Dame breaks in, leaning against Broad and scowling. “They were acting all twitchy, and talked so fast I couldn’t understand a word! Then they took out your keys-“

“They have my keys?!”

“And then they started threatening me and Broad! So, of course, that’s when I started getting up close and personal with the lipstick.” Dame sounds proud of herself, and Sleuth can’t help but to grin a little bit. He’s actually shocked that whoever it was didn’t bleed all over the place, if Dame got pissed off enough to attack them with such gusto.

“Guess if whoever it is is dumb enough to try and attack you two head on, they were probably dumb enough to attack the Crew, too.” Sleuth says, running a hand through his hair as he tries to make sense of this all. “If I had even an idea of who would be weird and hate me enough to try something like this, figuring this case out would be a whole lot easier.”

There was a prolonged pause after he says that, and Sleuth tries to slip back into a good place to think. But just as he’s on the edge of being able to really have a good brainstorming session, there’s the sound of knocking from the direction of the front room. He sits up in alarm, and exchanges looks with Broad and Dame. Broad goes to stand, smooths out the skirt of her dress, and heads off towards the front.

The long minutes that fill the space of her departure are absolutely agonizing. Sleuth tries to keep his breath even, tries to ignore his beating heart. It could be any one of the thousands of people who live in this city. He keeps trying to tell himself that it won’t be anything bad, that this is a brothel and it’s totally logical for people to try to come by.

When Broad comes back, though, the slightly panicked look on her face shatters the pleasant thought that it’s no one in particular wanting to be let in. Her face is paler than usual, she’s wringing her hands with a peculiar intensity, and Sleuth can very nearly see her nerves skyrocketing. When she speaks, it’s in a low, shaking whisper.

“The police are here.” 

Chapter Text

The sudden appearance of police wasn’t something that Sleuth was unaccustomed to. Sometimes, they even came when he’d actually called them. But this was one time that he would have greatly preferred the police to stay far, far away. Perhaps on the other side of town, if at all possible.

“The- The officer at the door said that they’re here because someone called in a disturbance.” Broad’s wringing her hands, and Dame’s hands are gripping the couch arms so hard that her knuckles are going white. “I told them that I was going back to get Dame- Sleuth you need to leave!”

“I, uh- Right. Shit.” He lurches up from the couch, managing to grab one of the photographs before Dame is standing as well, and hauling him off towards a window.

“Come on you big lug! You wanna get tossed in the slammer or something?” She shoots him an irritable glare. Sleuth manages to get his feet back under him and throws the window open before Dame has a chance to. Thank god there’s a fire escape right there, because he was just about to fling himself out without even checking.

“Neither of you’ve seen me! I totally haven’t been here, and- oof!” He nearly tumbled out the window as Dame gave him a good, hard shove in the back.

“Get going!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” He vaults over the windowsill and starts hurrying down the fire escape. He hears the window shut, and it’s almost a relief. At least for the time being, he’s not going to get caught. And if Dame and Broad don’t get involved, Sleuth knows that he can call them for backup when and if he needs it. He doesn’t need them getting all wrapped up in this anymore than they already are.

Sleuth hurries along the fire escape, trying to make as little noise as possible. The metal creaked and groaned underfoot, no matter how lightly he tread. It didn’t seem like anyone else was in the alleyway underneath, though, which was a small blessing. Hopefully he could creep the rest of the way out and get away before any of the cops decided a perimeter search was necessary.

As luck would have it, the final ladder down to stable ground was still up, and Sleuth swore under his breath. Making these things go down was always such a pain in the ass, and noisy besides.

Sleuth peers over the edge, trying to figure out how far away the ground is. It doesn’t seem too bad. Maybe…he can just kind of…

Sleuth tries to clamber off the fire escape as much as he can, before taking a deep breath and jumping down. The fall is not nearly as long as it would have been had he just jumped straight off, but the mild shock in his legs is still deeply unpleasant. Not being the best at following through on jumps, he leans against the brick wall of the alleyway, breathing heavily and waiting until his legs stop feeling like jelly.

He thought he did rather well for himself, though. That whole jumping down business hardly made a sound beyond slight shaking, and he’s sure that any police officer in this city would just attribute it to a stray cat or something. Once he caught his breath and got out of here, he was home free.

“Who’s there?” Out comes a far too familiar voice from the lip of the alley, and Sleuth freezes. “As an officer of the law I must request that you step into the light and identify yourself!”

Sleuth groans, and lightly thunks his head against the wall. And he was so close to leaving, too… Any more time that he spends here means less time to catch the actual crook! But he can’t exactly escape anywhere, not in this alleyway. So it’s with a bit of grimacing that he holds up his hands and steps out into the dim light, giving Authority Regulator a sunny smile.

The cop does not look pleased to see him, at all.

“Problem Sleuth!” His default volume is loud, but even this is a bit loud for him. “You- The entire police force has been looking for you!” His hand goes towards his holster, and Sleuth jumps a little, shaking his head and waving his hands as if that’ll immediately get what he’s trying to say across.

“Woah! Wait, hold on! No need for that, I’m uh- I’m totally going in peacefully. Not resisting or anything! I don’t even have my gun on me, and you can check. I just wanna talk!” He tries to sound as completely non-threatening as possible, and AR slowly approaches him, still visibly wary.

He nods and then, taking Sleuth by surprise, grabs his wrist and takes out a pair of handcuffs, starting to cuff him.

“Very well then. Problem Sleuth, you are under arrest for-“

“Aw- Come on Regulator-“

“For suspicion of murder and armed robbery.” AR continues in a much louder voice, drowning out Sleuth’s groan. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you-“

“AR, come on, just listen.” Sleuth tries to put in a little pulchritude, but it fizzles out some at the look the officer gives him. He’s known Regulator to be something of a dork at times, but he’s got a stern look that makes all the hardened criminals cringe.

“Sleuth, I must request that you at least allow me to finish reading you your rights before you go around being rude. I can’t say I understand your sudden heel turn, but surely your politeness hasn’t fully left you.” Sleuth is sure that it’s just him hearing too much into things, but Regulator sounds almost…hurt? He’s still missing details on his exact crimes, but considering that he and the officer had a tendency to work together on crimes sometimes…

At Sleuth’s silence, AR seems to take a moment to collect himself before continuing.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

“Yes, but- Come on, I didn’t do any of that! I’ve been framed, Regulator. You know me better than that, right?” He gives him a hopeful smile, which pretty quickly drops when he just starts leading him back towards the squad car.

“I had assumed I knew you, but I’ve been proven wrong before. If you are in fact innocent then I will be happy to clear your name, but I still need to take you in. You’re a wanted man, Sleuth.” AR speaks very sternly, and Sleuth can’t really bring himself to be surprised. AR has always been a devout follower of the law, but he couldn’t not try. He just wishes that for once it actually worked.

“Alright, alright. Take me away then, officer.” Sleuth sighs as he’s lead away, and though it’s been a long time since he was put into a cop car, the feeling continues to not be one that he enjoys too much. He’s just glad that not many people seem to be around, because it’s enough of a blow to his reputation that people think that he’s a murderer. Actually seeing him be arrested would probably just put that final nail in his coffin.

AR is up in the front of the car, and Sleuth can hear him talking though he’s not particularly concentrating on it. He’s sure he’s calling it in that he caught a wanted criminal, and isn’t that going to be a fun thing to deal with when they get to the police station. The car starts, and he grumbles to himself so AR can’t hear, thinking about all the ways he’d escaped handcuffs before. …Admittedly, escaping from police custody without being cleared is probably not the best idea his brain’s ever come up with. But Sleuth just hates having to sit around and do nothing for GPI knows how long, especially when there’s someone with his face out there, committing crimes.

Sleuth isn’t paying attention to much in particular as they go, just kind of slumped up against the window and sulking, but something catches his eye anyhow.

“Stop the car!” He yells, sitting up. He’s very glad that there isn’t a window in between him and AR in this car, because with the way Regulator slams on the breaks Sleuth would probably have broken his nose. He still pitches forward slightly, though, and smacks his head against the front seat.

“What?! What is it- Sleuth I swear-" AR sounds like he’s about to burst a blood vessel, and Sleuth gets ahold of himself long enough to nod in a direction outside of the car.

“Look over there!” AR follows his line of sight, and Sleuth knows that he can see what he’s talking about by the way his eyes widen.

In the direction they’re looking, standing directly under a dim streetlight, is what seems to be a perfect replica of Sleuth, down to his hat and particular slouch. But their similarity stops at the most basic of shapes, because the other Sleuth seems to be made of pitch black shadows. He also didn’t seem…quite right, but at this distance, in this light Sleuth couldn’t really put his finger on why.

He leans over so he can nudge AR in the shoulder, his grin going ear to ear.

“Toldja it wasn’t me!” AR doesn’t reply, still visibly flabbergasted, but that’s fine.

Sleuth is about to suggest that AR uncuff him and actually go after his doppelganger, but then the weird dark Sleuth seems to look up, and clearly sees them by the way he turns tail to take off. Sleuth is sits down again so he isn’t thrown backward, and kicks the back of Regulator’s seat since he can’t do much else.

“Let’s go get him, AR!” He can’t keep some delight out of his voice. With a car and an actual cop, it’ll be a lot easier to actually catch this jackass. His yelling seems to knock AR from his daze and while he doesn’t actually put the pedal to the floor, he does turn on the sirens so at least they’ll be able to get through the city faster.

The real problem for them is that it’s very dark already, and it’s definitely harder to see someone who seems to be wearing all black in a dark city. But there are light posts, and Sleuth keeps calling out to AR whenever he sees the guy. By the time the car squeals to a stop (perfectly parked, Sleuth notes with some amazement) up in front of what’s been an abandoned lot for years, Sleuth is excited to get out of the cuffs.

“You’re staying here. The suspect is armed and dangerous, and I am well aware that he is armed with your gun, Sleuth.” Regulator is already making to leave, and Sleuth leans up towards the front. “I will not put a citizen in danger.”

“But you’ve only got this one pair of handcuffs! And I’m not exactly a citizen. And if you wait for backup he’ll probably be long gone by then, right? Plus, I mean, I’ll escape anyhow, so isn’t it just cutting out the middle man to get me out now?” Sleuth isn’t sure at all that he’d be able to escape, but telling a little white lie hasn’t ever hurt him too much before. Except when it has, but this is one time when it’s absolutely necessary.

AR looks frustrated for a moment, before sighing and unlocking the back doors quickly, yanking Sleuth over and unlocking his cuffs with a minimal of fumbling.

“I suppose it wouldn’t make much sense to keep you under arrest, as it is clear that your name has been dragged through the mud unfairly. But I should insist that you at least try to stay out of the way until I have managed to arrest the crook.” He repockets the cuffs and clenches his fist, looking off into the distance and getting that look in his eye that he sometimes gets when he’s feeling particularly passionate. “And rest assured, Sleuth, I will put them in the slammer.”

“That’s great, AR. Really looking forward to it.” He grins and slaps him on the shoulder, hurrying away from the car already and patting his pockets as he goes. Yes, there are his knives. Perfect. He can hear AR following and saying something about being “careful”, but Sleuth is far too busy looking over the abandoned lot to really listen. This is it. This is where he’s going to get that look alike back for all the nasty shit he’s managed to pull. He can do this.  

And if he can’t, well. That’s what Regulator is here for. 

Chapter Text

The lot is about as empty as Sleuth expected someplace that’d been abandoned for years to be. Now that he’s got his feet on the ground, he can see a trail in the dirt. He crouches down, willing to take a few moments to look at it, because the trail’s so obvious that they won’t be losing the trail anytime soon.

He dips his fingers into it, because the best kind of detective work is hands on. It isn’t as sticky as he’d been expecting it to be, though it’s still pretty tacky when he rubs it between his fingers. And it’s not exactly black, more like an oil slick in color than anything else. It’s familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. There are incredibly defined footprints leading off, as if the perpetrator stepped in something and didn’t notice. All the better for them, he supposes.

AR comes up behind him, and leans over, clearly trying to see whatever it is that Sleuth is looking at.

“Is that ink?” He says, and Sleuth looks at his hand in surprise.

“Huh. Guess it is. Where the hell would he have stepped in this much ink?” He wipes it off on the dried grass, making a face. At least it’s just ink, probably, and he’s probably not going to get poisoned. Unless all those old wives’ tales about ink poisoning turned out to be true, that is.

“I do not know, but it makes me very uneasy.” Regulator glances around. “If it is a trap-“

“Hey, if it’s a trap we’ve already walked into it. Might as well see it to its logical conclusion, right?” The look AR gives him is not nearly enough to dissuade him from heading onwards, following the trail. He is completely unsurprised when he hears Regulator following behind after a pause.

The lot is not as empty as he’d initially thought, because off to the side, where the tracks lead, there’s an old, burnt out building. The windows are wide and blackened at the edges, and the large double doors look like they’ve been blown off their hinges. Sleuth is surprised that it hasn’t yet been torn down. He knows that the city can be lazy, but not even taking care of a burnt out shell? Weird.

Regulator is mumbling about city ordinances and not going inside buildings with compromised structural support, and Sleuth ignores him and draws a knife. There’s no such thing as being “too careful” in this sort of situation, even if he’s not supposed to bring a knife to a gun fight.

When they walk inside, it’s as dark as expected. The only light seems to come in from the busted up windows and the open doors. Sleuth and Regulator enter slowly, doing their best not to make much noise besides the crunch of glass under their feet. Wherever the stranger is, Sleuth wants to have the drop on him, instead of the other way around.

Regulator is clearly much more cautious than Sleuth, though. He’s checking every doorway that they happen across, and every room beyond that. Sleuth would help him in doing a sweep of the place, but he feels like that would take too much time. And he feels like he has the right to be a little impatient today, considering how badly his name has been dragged through the mud.

Using his Sleuth’s Intuition, which is a very serious feeling in his gut and not at all just him doing whatever he wants to do at the time, he steps away from Regulator and towards an unchecked area. There are stairs leading up, and he should totally check it out before AR does. That’ll be helpful.

He saw a set of stairs when they came in, and it’s towards those that he heads towards. It just seems like the right way to go, though even Sleuth can’t rationalize it beyond a feeling.

This does seem to have been a good idea, though, when he turns the corner to get to the stairs and finds himself staring right at the very man he was looking for.

Except. Something’s wrong.

The stranger definitely looks like him, which Sleuth would find beyond impressive to have gotten his manly physique so correct, but…they’re dripping. And not with sweat, either. It’s dark, and Sleuth can’t quite see them perfectly… But then they turn to look at him, make a high pitched, surprisednoise that is definitely not human, and he gets a proper look at them.

The eyes are the same as the picture, just black marks where you would have expected to see bright green. The hair is still dark, but their skin is definitely not even a human color anymore, now instead an honestly terrifying mix of Sleuth’s own tan skin tone and the same inky darkness that made up the trail they’d been following. It actually appears at times as if the thing’s skin is sloughing off completely, leaving behind only the ink.

Sleuth, understandably, is not quite sure how to react to this, except by standing stock still, mouth wide open.

There’s a beat of them just staring at each other, before the doppelganger sprints off up the stairs, leaving a heavier trail of ink behind him. He’s slower than Sleuth is, but when Sleuth tries to go after him he gets shot at for his troubles. He yelps, embarrassingly enough, and stumbles back. This gives the double plenty of time to jump up the remaining few stairs.

Sleuth swears, because this means that it now has a much better vantage point, while he’s got a knife. Another shot is fired while he’s just standing there, clipping his shoulder, and with a curse Sleuth dives behind a scorched table for cover.

He peeks around the table just to see Regulator hurrying into the room, probably drawn by the gunfire and general chaos. Sleuth is too far away to make out his expression well, but he is not looking forward to getting told “I told you so” later on.

There’s another shot, and AR quickly makes his way behind the table as well, and the look he gives Sleuth is not even close to charitable.

“Okay, okay look,” Sleuth holds up his hands in an attempt to stall AR from going off on him. “I know what you’re going to say, and I promise you can give me the full verbal lashing you’ve got planned, later. But I think that this- this thing should be taken care of first, right?” Sleuth pushed on the pulchritude a little harder than he normally would, just so that he doesn’t have to really argue it out with AR. To his utter relief, Regulator just nods and readies his gun.

“You are correct. I will make sure to properly tell you exactly what rules you broke by wandering off by yourself later. Did you get a proper look at the perpetrator?” Regulator seems to mean business this time, not even remotely in the area of fucking around. Sleuth isn’t sure if he likes this or Regulator’s regular personality more.

“Yeah. It’s not really human? So I don’t know what good bullets will do on it, but at least you probably won’t be able to kill it.” A pause, and Sleuth frowns. “Wait, that’s not good either. Uh. I mean, I don’t want to say we’re fucked, but…”

Another shot, and the edge closest to Sleuth’s head splinters, causing him to duck and grimace.

“…Understood. I would tell you to stay hidden, as it seems that you are the main target here, but I have long since realized you definitely won’t listen. Just try not to get shot.” AR almost sounds stern when he says this, and when Sleuth gives him a particularly sarcastic salute he just rolls his eyes. Then he’s peeking over the top of the table, and aiming at the general area where the shots have come from.

If there’s one thing to know about Regulator, it’s that he’s an absolutely abysmal shot. Sleuth isn’t entirely sure how he managed to get a gun legally in the first place, considering how he’s never seen the officer ever hit a target that he was actually aiming for. This is absolutely no different, and Sleuth can tell just by the angle that Regulator’s gun is at that he’s not going to be hitting anything let alone the target.

But it doesn’t seem like his double knows that, because the shots have stopped. And that probably means that he’s found cover. Sleuth can’t just have this possibility slip through his fingers, that would be beyond a terrible idea. Though standing up and inching around the edge of the room until he’s right up against the bannister of the stairs, and then creeping up them as silently as possibly without letting the double hear him, well, that’s not much better of an idea.

And yet, here he is, crouched on the top of the stairs, peering around the edge of the wall and trying to spot his double. There’s silence, because neither he nor Regulator have fired a shot just yet. Sleuth is actually very grateful for this, because he does not want to have to sneak around while being shot at by two people who would probably hit him, accidentally or not.

As he goes around the edge and catches sight of the double, he realizes why the shots stopped on this end. His double is looking over the pistol, seemingly confused about why it’s become a hunk of metal instead of a hunk of metal that spits death. Sleuth has never been so relieved that he routinely runs out of bullets.

Another shot is fired from down below, and the double flinches, rises- and it’s Sleuth realizes that he doesn’t have a form any longer so much as he’s just some horrible lump of badly mixed paint- and runs straight into Sleuth in his efforts to escape the bullets.

Sleuth, of course, grabs right at him, as much to stop him as it is an attempt to stay upright when he’s being barreled into by his body weight in ink and god only knows what else.

There’s a fleeting moment where Sleuth looks into what used to be a passing mockup of his face, but now resembles more closely a death mask. Then it melts further, and further, until Sleuth realizes that it’s the entire double that’s melting. He’s left to stare, opened mouth, at the quite frankly horrible sight.

Sleuth stares at the mess on his hands and almost doesn’t even hear the footsteps coming up the stairway.

“Sleuth? What’s happened, are you- Oh.” Regulator stops a few feet from him, and there is a long pause where the two of them just stare at each other. Sleuth still hasn’t even gone to clean off his hands, since he’s not sure at all what kind of ramifications that might have against clothing. Though, considering what just melted against it, he’s pretty sure that his outfit is a total loss no matter what he does.

Well. At least he knows that he won’t be accused of committing any more crimes. 

Chapter Text

Sleuth sits outside of the building, smoking and stripped down to his undershirt and stained pants. It’s deep into night now and normally the streetlights wouldn’t reach this far back into the run down part of town, but the police cars that’ve come by have done a pretty good job of lighting up the area. Sleuth has been interrogated by other cops a couple of times now, each one seeming to believe him less and less.

His shoulder had been tended to quickly since it’d only been a surface scratch and now he’s just waiting for the right moment to slip away without being told that he has to stay around for a few more hours. He has no idea where AR is since he saw the Regulator disappear back into the run down house an hour ago. It would actually be kind of nice to be able to talk to someone else about what just happened, at least in that Regulator saw it too.

He’s just about to try and slip out around the back when he sees someone hurrying in his general direction. So much for that plan, but- Wait, no, that’s the Inspector. What’s he doing here? Sleuth guesses he can’t be that surprised that someone like Inspector would be able to find the tracks that lead here so easily, but it’s still a bit…okay, interesting.

“Pickle?” He says once Inspector gets close enough. His friend looks tired and seems out of breath, unusual for someone he’s barely ever known to break into faster than a slow jog. “Uh, hey buddy, what’re you doing here?”

“Sleuth!” Inspector says when he’s managed to catch his breath enough. “O-Oh my gracious, you will not believe what I found out, I-” He looks up and seems to finally register Sleuth’s state and his eyes widen. “Oh my gosh. What happened? You look a-awful.”

“Thanks Pickle. You always know what to say to cheer a guy up.” Sleuth says kind of blandly. He doesn’t even have the energy to be properly snarky or show that much interest right now even if Inspector does seem super excited.

“Oh! Thank you Sleuth, that’s very kind.” Inspector seems genuinely touched and sits next to him with an excited smile. Sleuth doesn’t think he’s ever seen his friend this excited, and he can’t begin to guess what’s got him so riled up. But then Inspector is handing him his flask, and Sleuth finds that he’s magically more open to listening all of a sudden. “You might, uh, need this for what I’m about to tell you!”

“Yeah, okay. Lay it on me Pickle, I don’t think anything could surprise me anymore at this point.” Sleuth says, and then takes a long drink from the flask. Inspector waits until he’s finished, bouncing in what seems like impatience the whole times. Sleuth doesn’t think he’s actually seem him get this excited in…a while.

“Okay! Um, well, while you were gone on your own sleuthing route, I decided to go back to your apartment, since that was the most recent scene of the crime and I hadn’t really gotten a chance to look at it very closely because, um, we were trying to shoot you. And I found something absolutely fascinating! I discovered a puddle of-”

“Wait, wait, let me guess. A bunch of ink?” Sleuth winces at the way that Inspector’s expression immediately falls.

“S-Sleuth, you know I don’t like it when you guess during my explanations. You always guess right; it completely ruins the excitement…” He sounds put out, now. Sleuth would feel worse, but…sometimes Inspector can get a little bit too into his explanations. Sleuth usually tunes him out except for the important bits but right now he’s only feeling up to those parts.

“I didn’t really guess, exactly. AR and I were attacked by some weird ink version of me back in there, it was uh. Mildly disconcerting.”

“…Oh. Oh my gosh, I don’t know how you managed to come out of that alive. Are you sure you haven’t allocated half your stats to luck at this point?” Inspector flutters his hands for a moment and then goes to tugging at his hair. “Wh-what happened, exactly?”  

“Well, we followed some weird version of me into this old place, and then we got shot at by it, and then I touched it and it kinda…” Sleuth’s attempts at miming the exact kind of horrible melting the doppelganger had done is weak, but Inspector seems to understand him well enough.

“Oh, that’s fascinating. I wish I could have been able to see it with my own eyes… I think it might have been a cross contaminated bottle of ink of squid pro quo. How or with what I can’t be sure, because we do have a tendency of, um. Strange cases. But if it looked like you then I suppose that narrows it down a bit…”

“I mean, that’s nice and all but does that mean that it melting means it’s not going to be a problem anymore? Because I’m not gonna lie to you Pickle, I could seriously do without being beat up and framed for crimes I didn’t commit.” He hands Inspector’s flask back to him, and goes to stand. He’s had more than enough of shenanigans for today, and if he can go back home without fear of being killed by some weird ink clone he’ll be happy.

“I…I can only assume so? If it collapsed, it…maybe it couldn’t handle the real Sleuth touching it? I’m sorry, I can only make vague conjectures, with the available information… B-But I’m very glad you’re okay, Sleuth! I was very worried that you wouldn’t make it against yourself…”

“Oh, c’mon Pickle, give me more credit than that! It was a totally even match and I was clearly coming out on top as the original. You should ask AR about it, he saw! Matter of fact, why don’t you stay out here and wait for Regulator to come back out, I’m sure you can ask him all sorts of questions.” Sleuth pats Inspector’s shoulder, and this being Inspector he just falls right down onto the step.

“Where are you going, Sleuth? I don’t think the police would very much like it if you leave in the middle of their investigation…”

“Hey, if they want to talk to me I’m just going home. I think I’ve done quite enough for one day, forever.” He rubs the bridge of his nose for a moment, and then shoves his hands in his pockets and gives Inspector a sunny smile. “See you later, Pickle! Thanks for the information, real informational.”

Sleuth lopes off, not even waiting to listen to Pickle finish his sentence. Sure, he’s the most charming, lovable, patient guy he knows but even the best of men has their limits. And he doesn’t think he’s too terrible for thinking that the police can just damn well deal with Inspector’s babbling while he goes home and sleeps on his possibly broken bed. He didn’t actually check his room all that closely earlier on (which he’s practically kicking himself for now) so he might end up on a broken bed but at this point he’d take even that.

By the time he reaches his apartment it’s ridiculously late, and he’s so ready to just collapse that the door opening without a key doesn’t strike him as particularly strange. The house is pitch black but Sleuth assumes he can just navigate it as well as he ever has.

Sleuth immediately trips.

He goes sprawling on the floor and for a moment seriously considers not even picking himself up. After all, his floor is carpeted and it wouldn’t be the first time he passes out in the living room. He’d gotten so far as to lay his head down on the carpet before he heard unkind snickering. That certainly convinced him to get up, even though he only got as far as getting on his knees before his body started complaining out of sheer exhaustion.

The lights flicker on, and Spades Slick is leaning against the wall near the door, his foot still sticking out in front of him. He has a sharp grin on his face, but he doesn’t look as mad as he had earlier.

“Wow, Sleuth,” He says. “You look like shit!”

“Thanks Slick. Thank you so much. Why are you in my house, oh my god it’s too late for this shit.” Sleuth gives in and collapses back, covering his face in a failed attempt to block out all the light. He hears the floor creak and feels Slick get closer to him, and when he peeks out he is indeed next to him with that shit eating grin. It makes Sleuth want to punch him or at the very least make him mad.

“I’m here to make sure you held up your end up the bargain and got rid of the fucker that thought it’d be funny to mess with the Crew. Or at least that you found out who it was, so we can take it from there.” Slick sits next to Sleuth and flicks a knife open and shut. Sleuth can only guess he’s lucky that Slick isn’t just outright stabbing the floor. “Is that why you look like a train ran over you?”

“Yeah. The thing that was doing all that is super dead. Or at least not a problem anymore? I’d say go ask the person who made all these guesses but I don’t want you harassing him. Also seriously, this couldn’t have waiting until the morning?”

“Nah. You should know by now the night is my territory.” Slick reaches out and Sleuth braces himself, but to his utter surprise he just pats him on the shoulder. Granted, it’s on his obviously injured arm so that shaves a few good deed points off of his final marks, but it’s still better than what he’d hoped for. “Good job for once, eh? Maybe I’ll take you out t’celebrate your first successful case.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna have to take a raincheck on that, Slick. If you haven’t noticed I’m critically injured and can’t take the time to deal with you starting a barfight in literally every bar we go to.” Sleuth flings an arm dramatically over his eyes, hoping that Slick will just leave. To his surprise it seems to work, because Slick stands and starts walking away.

“I’m gonna be holding you to that, Sleuth. Now that I know it ain’t you I gotta stab this time, anyways. Seeya.” The lights, blessedly, go off and Slick makes sure to slam the door when he leaves. Sleuth finally, finally allows himself to relax and closes his eyes.

As much as the last couple of days have been…less than ideal, Sleuth can’t help but to feel a little pleased with himself. How many people can go up against a probably evil double of themselves and come out the other side with only a graze from a bullet and some nightmare fuel? So, sure, most people didn’t even think about meeting their double in the first place. But that didn’t mean anything.

Sleuth is confident in thinking that he’s come out on top, this time at least.