Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pearl!” Gem charges towards her friend on the ground, who is crumpled up and clutching her side. Dropping the crowbar in her hand, Gem frantically kneels beside Pearl and asks, “What happened?!”

“Ngh…” Pearl mumbles. “Gem? Huh? Why are you here?”

“Um, that’s—” Glancing down, Gem notices red liquid where Pearl lies and screams. “You’re hurt! Hold on, don’t move so much! I’ll get help!”

“No!” Pearl shouts. “They’re running away! You have to catch them!”

“I don’t care — Ahh!” Gem lifts her hands, which are entirely stained with red. “Did they do this to you?! No matter! Just wait here!”

As Gem moves to stand up, the door suddenly crashes down, revealing two figures at the door.

“FREEZE! Come out with your hands up!”

Two weeks earlier…

The first thing Gem sees when she enters the kitchen is her flatmate Pearl hunched over the table, thoughtfully tapping a pencil against a piece of paper.

“Hiya, Gem!” Pearl greets, looking up. “You’re up early today!”

“That’s quite generous,” Gem says. “It’s ten in the morning.”

“Well, you usually don’t wake up until noon if I don’t remind you.”

“Rude, I’ve only been sleeping in the past week after trying to find that cat every day,” Gem points out, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “And what are you up to so early?”

“Just a word-cross puzzle,” Pearl hums, glancing back at her paper. “I’ve got all of them except for one…”

“Really?” Gem leans over to peek at Pearl’s paper. “What’s the clue?”

Sliding the paper into Gem’s view, Pearl points at the column of empty boxes at the side of the page, isolated from the rest of the puzzle, save for one letter. “It’s ‘straightforward, basic, uncomplicated.’ I know it ends in a ‘Y,’ but ‘simply’ didn’t fit.”

“Ah!” Gem exclaims. “That would be ‘elementary,’ my dear Pearl.”

“Aww, you don’t have to rub it in!” Pearl pouts. “I know it’s easy for you!”

“No, no, the word is elementary! See?” Gem points to the boxes, reciting each letter. “E-L-E-M-E-N-T-A-R-Y! It means ‘straightforward’ and ends with a ‘Y!’”

“Oh.” Pearl stares at the boxes. “Ohhhh.” She scribbles down the word and looks up to Gem with a grin. “I knew you’d be able to figure it out! Maybe you should quit being a detective and start professionally solving word puzzles, eh?” 

“Solving word-crosses might as well be my main job right now,” Gem sighs, dramatically taking a seat across from Pearl. “I haven’t had any big cases yet, which isn’t really ideal — Isaac is nice, but he’s not that nice. He won’t let us stay here without rent forever!”

“Are you two gossiping about me?”

The two turn towards the voice and find Isaac, their landlord, peeking in from the main room.

“Morning!” Isaac greets. “Gem, there’s someone asking for you out there.”

“Really?” Gem asks, setting down her coffee. “Who is it?”

“The baker at Stressel’s Sweets. She wants you to investigate something in her shop. It was something about… a strange smell?”

“So… I guess we don’t need to worry about rent for this month!” Pearl teases. “If you’re going to Molly’s, could you please pick up some muffins when you come back?”

“I’m taking a job, not running your errands,” Gem rolls her eyes playfully and stands up. “Alright, I’ll be off, then. Try not to get stuck on your word-crosses without me.”

Pearl blows a raspberry as Gem giggles and throws on her coat. 

After racing down the stairs (and nearly tripping in the process), Gem pushes the door open to meet the owner of Stressel’s Sweets — Molly Stressel. However, she isn’t wearing her usual apron and hat, instead dressed in everyday clothes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Stressel!” Gem apologizes. “Did you need me urgently?”

“Oh, it’s not an issue!” Molly says, waving her hand reassuringly. “The bakery is closed today, so there’s no rush.”

Well, it looks like Pearl isn’t getting her muffins. Gem thinks. 

“Isaac said you noticed a strange smell,” Gem says. “Could you perhaps describe it for me?”

“It’s a rotten one, I’ll tell you!” Molly exclaims. “It was like all of my eggs were spoiled! I checked all of the ones in my storage and even replaced them with a new batch, but the smell remained.”

“Really? Could it be from any of the buildings around you?”

Molly shakes her head. “I asked the restaurant nearby, but the smell isn’t nearly as strong there as it is at my shop. I also tried to contact the city officials about this, but they hardly listened.”

“Which is why you came to me, I assume?”

“Yes. Maybe you can think of somewhere to look that I didn’t consider? Or at the very least, the two of us complaining to officials ought to get them to listen.”

After walking around a curb, Molly’s shop comes into view… along with the faint smell of rotten eggs, even from a distance.

“Ah,” Gem says. “There it is.”

“This is why I had to close the shop,” Molly remarks. “The smell was just so horrible that no customer wanted to step inside.”

Molly opens the door, and Gem notices something as she steps in: the smell seems to be weaker in the front of the shop than outside. Still, she follows the scent towards the back, passing the counter and walking into the pantry. Continuing on the streak of curious details, the potency of the rotten smell grows stronger as she nears the end of the shop, but there appears to be no strong smell from any of the shelves.

“The smell is the strongest here,” Molly says, following Gem. “But none of my eggs are rotten. I just got a new delivery of ingredients last week as well — they couldn’t have spoiled so fast.”

Gem paces around the pantry, inspecting each of the ingredients on the shelves. Neither the dry powders nor dairy products produce the rotten smell, but she realizes the smell is the most extreme at the back door…

“It might not be from your shop at all,” Gem finally says. “Have you ever checked outside your shop?”

“Huh?” Molly raises her eyebrows. “Yes, I had already asked the restaurant—”

“No, no, not a specific establishment. I meant just around the shop in general.”

“Ah, I haven’t! Where else could it be coming from? There are no other dining places on this street, so I assumed it was from my shop…”

“That makes sense, but the smell seemed to be stronger outside than inside your actual shop. I think we should check past this door.”

“Oh!” Molly pulls out another key and unlocks the back door. “Now that I think about it, a small construction project did start behind my shop this week…”

She pushes the door open, and the smell of rotten eggs wafts through the building like a pie set out on the windowsill to cool — if the pie was made of trash. The two ladies exchange a glance before stepping out the door and exiting right in front of two workers in a small construction site.

“Excuse me!” Gem calls out to the construction workers. 

Her call manages to catch the attention of the closest worker, who whirls around towards her voice. 

“Hello!” he greets, making his way towards her. “What’s the problem? Is the construction too loud?”

“Not quite,” Gem says. “Miss Stressel here thought she smelled rotten eggs from her bakery, but we found that it was actually coming from outside the shop—”

“Really?!” the construction worker exclaims before Gem even finishes her sentence, mouth dropping open in shock. “We thought it was coming from the bakery! Hold on, sweetfaces—” He turns back towards the construction site and hollers, “LEHMANN!”

The other construction worker rushes over and skids to a stop in front of them, still carrying a metal pipe over his shoulder. “Kerrill? What happened?”

“The bakery wasn’t the one with the smell!” the first construction worker, Kerrill, replies. “Weren’t you the one who said it was?”

“No, that was the new delivery guy!” Lehmann says. “He… uh, what’s his name again? Something like Boo… Booker? I forgot. Anyway!” Turning towards Gem and Molly, Lehmann continues, “Sorry about that! We also started smelling rotten eggs after we started construction here, but we just assumed it was from your bakery. Are you sure it’s from out here?”

“It’s much stronger here than inside my bakery,” Molly confirms. “We were thinking it might’ve actually come from the construction site.”

“We will check,” Lehmann says, nodding. “But that’s strange! We’re not working with anything that smells like this!”

“Unless it’s coming from you,” Kerrill snickers, which causes Lehmann to roll his eyes.

The two construction workers lead Gem and Molly back to the site, which is a chunk of cracked pavement with exposed water pipes. Gem remembers what happened here — there was a protest just a week ago rallying against more factories being built, which resulted in the law enforcement chasing the protesters out. She wanted to see what was happening for herself, but she was hot on the trail of the lost cat from her previous job at that time.

Upon arriving at the site, Gem scans the items around the site: metal pipes, concrete mixture, various tools, and a stack of bags with a yellow substance spilling out of it. Curious, she walks over and picks up a pinch of the yellow substance, rubbing it between her fingers and watching it crumble to the ground. 

“Sulfur…?” she mumbles. 

Why would a chemical like this be used for repairing pavement? It’s incredibly out of place compared to the rest of the materials, not to mention dubiously legal to keep around these public places. In some compounds, it could even produce a smell that…

Wait.

“This is sulfur! You’re not supposed to have huge packs of these things just laying around!” Gem exclaims, waving her hand towards the stack of bags. “That rotten egg smell is hydrogen sulfide! It’s dangerous if you’re exposed to it for too long!” 

“WHAT?” the construction workers shout in unison.

“But — Booker said we needed this for something!” Kerrill says. “He has these bags delivered here every morning!”

“Did he ever tell us why we needed it?” Lehmann frowns. “I swear, they disappear overnight…” 

“Whatever he needs it for, he’ll have to follow safety regulations if he wants to continue.” Gem turns towards Molly. “Miss Stressel? I think we can report this to the officials now.” 

“Of course!” Molly says, turning in the direction of the city hall. “Let’s go!”

Gem and Molly march straight to the city hall, reporting sightings of stray sulfur bags on the street along with the smell of rotten eggs. Unlike the first time Molly tried to report the situation, people are immediately sent to retrieve the bags and cease further delivery of the chemical. Kerrill and Lehmann get off with a warning (after Lehmann’s insistence that it was the delivery man who placed the bags there), though the warning also extended to the elusive Booker, whenever he returns.

With the case closed, Molly offers Gem her payment, but the detective politely declines.

“All I did was follow a trail,” Gem reasons. “The case was practically solved in an hour!”

“Still, you helped me!” Molly insists, pushing the money in her hands towards Gem. “This would have taken me a day to solve by myself!”

“Are you certain? You might need it more than me, since the bakery was closed…”

“I’ll be fine, sweetie. It’s thanks to you that I can open the shop again.” Smiling warmly, Molly places the money in Gem’s palm. “Stop by tomorrow! I’ll prepare those muffins that you and Pearl really like.”

Sheepishly accepting the payment, Gem waves Molly goodbye and walks back to her flat. Perhaps she’ll invite Pearl to a nice lunch, granted that her friend isn’t off running about the city doing who-knows-what. Unfortunately, this plan is promptly interrupted once Gem spots two figures in front of her home — a tall man dressed in a dark green suit and a teen at his side. The man holds a nervous stance despite his height, anxiously tapping his foot and checking his watch.

As Gem approaches, the teen nudges the man and points towards her, asking, “Hey, is she the one?”

“Ah!” The man turns to Gem with an awkward smile. “Hello! Are you Miss Gem Tasey?”

“That would be me, yes,” Gem says while discreetly scanning the two strangers’ faces. Somehow, the tall man seems familiar, though she can’t pinpoint exactly where she had seen him before. “How may I help you?”

“He needs your detective smartness or whatever,” the teen answers bluntly.

“Everett, don’t be rude,” the man hisses, shooting a stern look at the teen. “I apologize for my brother’s brashness,” he says, facing Gem again. “I had to bring him along. I don’t trust him to be alone at home.”

“Aww, it was only one wall!”

“Still, I had to pay for repairs from my own paycheck money. You’ll understand when you get a job.”

Gem stifles a giggle from the two’s banter and says, “Come into my office. You can tell me what you need my detective smartness for!”

Unlocking her office, Gem lets the two step in before sitting down at her own desk. She hurriedly brushes off the dust that had settled on her desk surface as her guests take a seat in front of her. Everett attempts to kick his legs onto the table, though he is promptly stopped by his brother.

“You and Miss Stressel were the ones who informed us about the sulfur earlier, yes?” the man asks after smacking Everett’s feet off his lap. “When I looked into your report, I found that you run a detective agency, which led me to your office.”

Gem frowns. “I’m sorry, how did you know about our report? We barely filed it half an hour ago.”

The man blinks. “Huh? Oh, silly me!” he says, smacking himself on the forehead. “I forgot to tell you — I’m the mayor’s secretary, Sullivan Ximenes. But you can just call me X.”

“That’s why you looked so familiar!” Gem exclaims. “Thank goodness, because I was ready to assume you were stalking the city hall!”

“You basically just described his job,” Everett scoffs.

“As I was saying,” X continues, ignoring Everett. “The possibility that somebody is transporting large amounts of unregistered sulfur is quite concerning, especially coupled with the other incidents that have been observed around the city as of late.”

“Incidents?” Gem asks, leaning forward on her chair. “Do you mean the protests?”

X sighs and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, the revolts are the least of our worries at the moment. As you may know already, Mayor Goodwin is having a speech in two weeks. However, I am worried about his safety.” Reaching into his bag, X pulls out a booklet of newspaper clippings and sets them down on the table. “There have been attacks far beyond simple protests, and I want you to investigate the source of them.”

“I remember these,” Gem says, picking up the clippings. The sight of the familiar newspaper articles jogs her memory of reading the exact papers from the past two months detailing stories of factories being destroyed at night. She and Pearl had discussed these articles when they first read it, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint any pattern of attack. “Have there been more since?”

“Quite a few, actually,” X replies. “Although nothing has made the news, there have been multiple cases of less… extreme property damage recently. Parts being stolen from machines. Blocked doors and roads. Interferences such as these.”

“And it’s always happening at night when there’s no people in the factories,” Everett adds with an eye roll. “I don’t know what kind of point they’re trying to make, but these people are either purposely avoiding attacking others, or they’re just really bad at being criminals.”

“You would know,” X says tiredly.

“Hey, I’m great at what I do!”

“Property damage is not a skill. And you only did it once, by accident.”

“Who knows?” Gem shrugs with a grin. “This might be a first-time criminal. That, or their target isn’t people.”

“We aren’t sure about the target yet,” X says. “But I may have an idea — actually, wait.” He pauses. “No, no. Never mind.”

“What?” Gem’s head snaps towards X. “What is it?”

“Really, never mind!” X waves his hands. “It’s not that big of a deal, really!”

Slamming her hands on the table, Gem shoots up from her seat and exclaims, “Mr. Ximenes, I’m a detective! No matter how small a clue is, any piece of information I don’t know will hurt the case!”

“…Right. That is true.” Biting his inner lip, X wrings his hands and glances around the room, as if considering whether to speak or not. “I just think… telling you this might cast suspicion on you.”

“That’s not a problem,” Gem says, slowly sitting back down. “A part of this job is venturing into danger when needed. I’ll be careful.”

“It’s not exactly danger, but—” X sucks in a breath. “Okay. Everett, I’ll need you to step out of this conversation.”

“Ugh, you brought me along just to kick me out?” Everett complains, sliding out of his chair.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be sharing this confidential information today. Go to the library, and I’ll come pick you up when we’re finished.”

“Whatever. I’m going to find Owen first.”

“Don’t bother him if he doesn’t want to go with you!”

Gem watches Everett march out the door and disappear past the window without saying another word. “So… siblings, huh?” she laughs awkwardly.

“He’s a handful, but I know he cares more than he lets on,” X replies with a sigh. “I don’t want him to hear what I have to say next. He would worry more than anyone.”

X’s concern for Everett leads Gem to think about Pearl. She has always shared her case details with her closest friend in the past, but if X can’t even share what he knows with his brother, there’s a high chance she won’t be able to tell Pearl either. 

“I understand,” she says. “It’s nice that you’re considerate of him.”

“Of course.” X smiles warmly. “But, I digress.” He folds his hands and leans over on the desk. “The thing is… Mayor Goodwin has been receiving threatening letters.”

“What?” Gem gasps. When X mentioned being worried for Mayor Goodwin’s safety, she had assumed it would be from unstable building structures or blocked roads, not direct threats! “How come? I thought the people loved Mayor Goodwin! What has he done to warrant these threats?”

“It’s more of what he hasn’t done,” X replies with uncomfortable shifting eyes. “The mayor… as loved as he is by the public, there are certain groups dissatisfied with his lack of initiative around regulating the growing industrialization in the city.”

Suddenly, the rallies against factory construction make a lot more sense.

“The protests…” Gem mumbles. 

“Yes, those were what tipped me off as well,” X adds. “I believe the threats may be in line with the rise in protests. How connected they are, I’m still not sure.”

“In that case, I think those letters you mentioned might be able to tell us more about these incidents,” Gem says. “Are you able to retrieve them in any way?”

“I… haven’t seen much of the contents personally, but I do know where they are stored.” Pushing his chair back, X stands up and picks up his bag. “Come with me. I’ll show you my correspondence.”

For the second time in the day, Gem enters the city hall. Even with his high position, X darts around the building cautiously, as if to avoid getting caught. Gem ultimately chalks it up to X just being anxious due to the stress he must be under with the letter threats.

X slips into the archives for a minute to retrieve the letters in question, and while she waits, Gem watches other government workers pass by the halls. She wonders how many of them are aware of the threats, if there are any at all. Judging the overall neutral energy around the hall, there’s a high chance X has only kept it to himself. Why?

Finally, X leads Gem into his office and shuts the door, carefully locking it behind them. Then, he pulls out a stack of envelopes and spreads them across his desk, of which there are so many they nearly cover the entire surface.

“There are that many?” Gem says, voice hushed from astonishment. “Have the police been informed about this?”

“That, in itself, is a problem. Flooding in factories, arson, machinery breaking, and threatening letters to Mayor Goodwin written with a typewriter,” X explains as he lays out the rest of the correspondence before Gem. The files layer on top of the envelopes to create a pile so thick it eclipses any view of the desk underneath. “And now, the sulfur you found. Alone, that discovery wouldn’t raise any alarm bells. However, sulfur has many dangerous compounds, which is concerning considering the political climate. There is something happening in this city, yet the mayor won’t listen to me. Consequently, this is why I also haven’t told anybody about these threats except for you — he himself ordered us to keep it a secret.”

Picking up one letter in the stack of dozens, Gem skims through the writing and grimaces at the threats of overthrowing the mayor. Listen to our demands before it’s too late. You have until your speech to make your decision. — The Shadow “Is he simply ignoring these threats? Either he’s confident in his position, or he just doesn’t read these letters at all…”

X nods solemnly. “It is both. The mayor is the type of person to not believe the rivers are polluted until they’ve turned black. And that is why, Detective, I need you to get to the bottom of this case.”

It’s intimidating, taking on such a big case for the first time. She’s incredibly underqualified. Still, X is counting on her. If anything, at least she has his support from the inside.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Gem assures, nodding with an unwavering resolve. “I promise.”

“Thank you so much,” X says with a loud sigh of relief. “I know it’s a big job to take, but I want everybody to be safe. The mayor’s speech isn’t far away, so we’d have to move as fast as possible.”

“We can start right away by first tracking where these letters came from,” Gem suggests. “There’s a post office right near here, so we can check there first!”

Thus, X quickly sorts the files into his cabinets, picks up his bag, and the two are off towards the nearest post office. 

Now that Gem is fully aware of the scope of these threats, the overwhelming responsibility of the mystery weighs on her shoulders like a bag of sand. She knows very well that she might not be able to reveal the truth about this case to the people around her, not even Pearl. She wonders how Pearl would react if she knew.

Regardless of her restrictions, Gem will make sure to crack this case wide open — and it’ll begin with her first lead from the letters themselves.

Chapter Text

Aster stands before a charred warehouse.

On the wall, a message is written boldly with streaks of black paint.

RUNNING OUT OF TIME. MAKE YOUR DECISION.

— THE SHADOW

It’s interesting how the message lived through the flames. The spectacle was certainly enough to attract the attention of reporters in the middle of the night, which took quite an effort for him to drive away after the fire subsided.

As dawn breaks over the city, Aster steps away from the wreckage and leaves it for the morning press to find.

“Do you know where this letter was sent from?” Gem asks, placing a letter down in front of the postmaster. 

The postmaster takes a glance at the letter before pushing it back towards Gem. “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to disclose that for privacy reasons.”

“It’s alright,” X says, holding up a… police badge? “This is an official investigation.”

“Oh!” The postmaster’s eyes flash with surprise. “I apologize, then. Here, let me take a look at it.”

“Is that yours?” Gem whispers to X as the postmaster inspects the letter.

“This badge?” X smiles knowingly. “No, I’m not a cop. I knew something like this would happen, so I nicked it off the city hall.”

“I didn’t think you were the type of man to do that!” Gem giggles.

“Well, I want to help as much as I can,” X says, tucking the badge back into his suit pocket. “It did come in handy, no?”

As it turns out, the letter wasn’t sent from the post office nearest to the city hall. Gem and X are instead directed to one farther into the city. After a short carriage ride, they arrive at the directed location and step into the post office, where they see a red-haired woman sorting papers. Gem glances at the nameplate on her desk as she approaches, which reads Cleo Zomberg.

“Good afternoon,” Cleo says, looking up from her papers. “How may I help you?”

“Hello, we were told by another post office that this letter was sent from your place,” Gem says, holding out the letter. “We were wondering if you knew who sent this.”

“Does it not have a sender’s name?” Cleo asks, taking the letter and inspecting it. 

“No, it was only signed with ‘The Shadow,’” X replies. “Other than that, there was nothing but an address to the mayor’s office.”

“Strange…” Cleo mumbles. “There is no way for me to tell who sent a letter without a sender’s name from the postmark alone, but it looks like it was sent just two days ago.”

“Do you remember any people from that day who might’ve sent letters to the city hall?” Gem asks. Her heart sinks slightly at the news, but it’s not like she ever expected this investigation to go smoothly.

“A lot of people send letters every day. I’m not sure—” Cleo pauses, pursing her lips and thinking. “Actually… There was someone two days ago.”

“Yes?” Gem’s heart immediately springs back into place in anticipation.

“There was this widow, I think,” Cleo continues. “She was all hunched over and sad, but tall. Strangely enough, she had a deep voice? Now that I think about it, that could’ve been a disguise. But I remember her telling me that the letter was sent under ‘H. Bales.’ I was curious, so I glanced at the recipient… and it was written to the mayor. I suppose that instance was so strange that it stuck with me.”

“H. Bales, huh?” Gem hums in contemplation. “That had to be a disguise. Unless our shadowy friend here is getting widows to deliver letters.”

“I can’t say for sure that this is who you’re looking for, since there have been other letters sent to the mayor before,” Cleo adds. “But if they’re sending it under an alias like ‘The Shadow,’ you had better be careful.”

“We’ll watch out,” X assures, nodding. “Thank you for your assistance. Have a nice day.”

As the two exit the post office, X tucks the letter back into his bag while Gem pulls out her notepad.

“A widow with a letter sent from H. Bales,” Gem mutters, jotting down the new evidence. “That’s not a lot to go off of, but it’s a good lead.”

“Having the last name can be helpful,” X says. “We should be able to find it in the census.”

Under X’s suggestion, the two return to the city hall to check the record room. X flips to the “B” section and tracks his finger down the names, where he lands on a “Bale” and “Baley,” but no “Bales.” He tries again, this time going through all the “H” surnames and searching for a “Bales” to match it, but to no avail. Disappointed, they reach the conclusion that H. Bales must be an alias.

X offers to continue looking through records, and Gem decides to search around for more clues (“It isn’t a proper investigation without a little asking around!”). She doesn’t have a direction just yet, but she spends about two hours visiting public buildings, asking restaurant or store employees if they had seen anyone matching the description Cleo provided or if they have ever heard of an “H. Bales.” To no surprise, nobody has ever seen a strangely tall widow named H. Bales, but Gem figured it was worth a shot. 

Once the sun starts setting over the horizon, Gem makes her way over to Scotland Yard, hoping the cops might have any possible leads. As she approaches the building, she finds two officers already opening the door to enter. 

“Inspector Simmons!” Gem calls out upon recognizing one of them, the blonde woman wearing a bowler hat. “Fancy seeing you here!”

The inspector, Florence Simmons, turns towards the call of her name. Her furrowed brows and stiff frown melt into a smile once she sees Gem, and she holds up a palm as a greeting. 

“Chief inspector, now,” Florence corrects. “I was just promoted recently.”

“Congratulations!” Gem says with a giggle. “Now you have a scary face and rank!”

“You know her, Inspector?” the other officer asks. 

“Ah, yes.” Florence motions her cane between Gem and the officer. “Wes, this is Miss Gem, a private detective and a friend. Gem, this is Wesley, my second in command at the station. Not officially, but it’s just because of his gift of half a brain cell that makes him the most competent person in this place.”

“You’re in a good mood today, Inspector,” Wesley chuckles. He then holds out his hand towards Gem and grins. “Wesley Knighton. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Gem Tasey. It’s nice to meet you, too!” Gem says, shaking Wesley’s hand. She notices that Wesley has quite the friendly face for a police officer, almost like a giant dog.

“May I ask, did you need something here?” Florence says. “Or did you just come to visit?”

“I wish that were the case,” Gem replies with a dramatic sigh. “I’m on the hunt for a criminal with no real name nor face!”

“Have you tried asking them?” Wesley snickers.

“Ha ha,” Gem says dryly. “But really, I was wondering if you had any case files or mugshots I could look at for any leads.”

“Then what are we doing, still standing out here?” Florence opens the door with a smile. “I’ll see what we can do. What type of case are you handling?”

“I’m investigating threatening letters and vandalism,” Gem replies, stepping into the building. “So far, I know that they use ‘H. Bales’ to send the letters. It’s most likely an alias, but that’s all I have to go off of.”

Inside, there are other officers filing papers at desks and speaking with superiors. A few even wave to her, of which she greets back. It’s much busier than Gem expected, but it makes sense, considering the rise in protests and vandals as of late.

“H. Bales,” Florence repeats. “Quite the strange name. We can look in the archive of known criminal mugshots to see if that turns up. Wes, could you bring the file over?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Wesley darts off towards the back of the room upon command. 

“Who hired you to investigate this?” Florence continues in the meantime. “A friend?”

“It’s, um, confidential.” Considering that X had specifically avoided the police to hire her instead, Gem doesn’t think telling her would be the right choice. “Though, I suppose you can say that.”

Florence laughs. “That’s alright. But it looks like I’m not the only one who got a promotion — you went from finding missing items to tackling threats!”

“I didn’t think I would be taking a job of this scale, but here I am!” Gem exclaims. “I just hope I can get this over with quickly.”

Before the two-week limit, specifically, she thinks right afterwards. 

“I hope this can make it quicker,” Wesley says, arriving right on time, holding out a thick file. 

Gem thanks Wesley and takes the file, promptly flipping to the “B” section. Unsurprisingly, she finds nothing. As ridiculous as it is, she also scans for any possible matches of a sad, tall widow, and is frankly a little disappointed when she finds none. What did she expect, really? A lady dressed in full black to appear in the mugshots?

“Did you find anything?” Florence asks as Gem closes the file.

“Nothing,” Gem replies, shaking her head and handing it back. Standing up, she brushes down her skirt and says, “Thank you, though. I’m sure I’ll be able to find clues elsewhere.”

“Alright,” Florence says, nodding sympathetically. “If there’s anything we can help you with in the future, you can come ask. Scotland Yard will always be open, even if I’m not around.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to speak with me!” Wesley adds with a grin.

“As if. You’re coming with me,” Florence snorts, poking him with her cane. “In all seriousness, good luck! I hope you find this elusive H. Bales!”

“Thank you!” Gem says while heading towards the exit. “Good luck with your promotion as well!”

Gem waits until she has exited the building and the door has fully closed behind her to groan in dismay. It’s not like she expected to find any breakthroughs during her search, but it would have been nice to find something. She’s ashamed to return to X empty-handed, especially since he’s been working so hard for the past few hours.

While Gem walks dejectedly on the pavement, she runs into a newspaper boy excitedly waving his papers around.

“Read today’s London Recapsulate!” he exclaims, barreling down the path. “A warehouse burned down last night!”

“Burning warehouse?” Gem gasps. “Wait — wait a second! I’ll take one! Here!” she shouts, handing him a penny.

“Thank you, miss!” the boy says, holding out a paper, which Gem promptly takes. Then, he returns to waving his remaining papers around.

Gem opens the paper hurriedly, scanning its text and pictures.  A large photo on the middle of the page depicts a warehouse in ruin and large text on a single standing wall: 

RUNNING OUT OF TIME. MAKE YOUR DECISION.

— THE SHADOW

“Oh, you sneaky little—” Gem huffs. “Right before I took the case! Seriously!”

However, it does seem like a possible lead has fallen right into her hands: the fire broke out in the warehouse on Endell Street. She’ll have to see the scene for herself.

A short carriage ride later, Gem arrives in front of the charred warehouse, where countless onlookers are still examining the site, despite the fire having happened hours before. She weaves past reporters and pedestrians to make her way to the front, where the burnt wall stands in full glory, thick strokes of black paint running across its bricks. It’s exactly as the newspaper said, signed, The Shadow.

“Arson, huh?” Gem mutters. “Our friend has stepped up their game once more.”

It’s time to pursue the trail while it’s still hot. Even if it means she has to grasp at straws, at least there’s something to grasp at all. And in this case, it’s the very paint on the wall.

X will know about this, and after that, Gem’s next stop will be the paint shops around London.

Chapter Text

“The NHO protests on the streets again!” a newspaper boy shouts, waving the paper above his head. “Read all about it!”

Aster pays for a paper and scans through the reports carefully.

Starting from a day ago, The National Humanitarian Organization (NHO) blocked off a factory construction site with protestors, pushing back construction efforts. The leader, Meinke Ziegenbein, announces that he will not hold off until he meets with a city official.

What a nuisance. He can’t have this happening so close to the mayor’s speech. It looks like he’ll just have to give the NHO what they want. 

“Look at this,” Gem says, holding the newspaper out in front of X. “The Shadow has left another trail for us to follow.”

“I see,” X says, frowning at the photo of the burnt warehouse. “Did The Shadow leave any clues behind?”

“It might seem like a small detail, but the painted message on the wall itself is a lead,” Gem explains. “That was the only wall remaining from the burnt warehouse. The Shadow couldn’t have known ahead of time where to paint the message, so they must’ve done it shortly afterwards. There’s no chance they had enough time to mix the paint and write the message without being caught, especially not with the heat from the fire causing the paint to degrade faster, so they must’ve used a pre-mixed paint.”

“That’s…” X blinks, surprised. “You’re right! A paint vendor should keep a record of clients, so if we find where they obtained the paint from…”

“…We can learn their identity!” Gem finishes, pumping her fists excitedly. “Yes, exactly! Do you know where we can find a list of paint shops?”

X taps his chin thoughtfully. “Well, pre-made paint sellers are quite hard to come by, but I do know who might be able to give us a tip.” 

“What would I do without you, Mister Secretary?” Gem says, pretending to wipe a tear off her face.

“Enjoying a relaxing night back at your own flat, I assume,” X replies with a chuckle while pulling the phone book out from his desk drawer. He flips it open and swiftly dials a number into the phone on his desk. A few seconds later, someone picks up on the other end.

“Hello! I’m Xavier Craftsman, and you have just reached the United Kingdom Alliance of Fine Art Trade. How may I help you?”

“Hello,” X greets back, drumming his fingers along his desk as he speaks. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I was wondering who your paint suppliers are.”

There’s a pause and a hum from the other end.

“That would be Angus van Housen,” Xavier replies. “He’s the only supplier around here. If you’re affiliated with the NHO, you can also get lower prices!”

“Is that so? Do you know where I could find his services?”

“He has a store, Three Fox Paints. You can find it on 150 Fleet Street. He should be in today, but you should probably hurry up if you want to place an order and receive it tomorrow.”

“I see. Thank you for your help.” X wraps up the call, hangs up, and turns back to Gem. “Well, we don’t have to worry about placing an order. Would you still like to go now? It is getting a bit late.”

“I think I can squeeze in a little more investigation before I go home,” Gem says. “How about you?”

“I’ll remain in the office to look into what you learned,” X replies with a nod. “And, well, go make sure that Everett isn’t destroying library property.”

Gem chuckles, recalling X’s feisty younger brother. “I understand. I’ll call you if I find anything new.”

When Gem steps out of the city hall, the sun has already set. By the time her carriage arrives at the shop, all the street lights have turned on, casting a warm glow over the cool floors. 

Three Fox Paints is a small building tucked snugly into the side of the street. The shop sign is clearly worn, with little cracks in the wood, but the paint is still bright, as if freshly applied. Considering how quaint the store front is, Gem wonders what this Angus van Housen looks like: a fancy artist with a curly mustache? An old, seasoned man wearing a beret?

Wrong. After entering the building, Gem quickly learns that Angus van Housen is, in actuality, a giant wall of a man with a grisly beard and a paint-splattered apron. She would’ve guessed he was a butcher if not for the jars of linseed oil and trays of pigment surrounding him.

“Good evening!” Angus greets cheerily. “How may I help you?”

“Hello!” Gem says. “I have sort of a strange request, if you don’t mind.”

“No request is a strange request!” Angus says with a reassuring smile. “I’ll mix anything. Dust yellow? Vomit green? Dried leaves? You name it!”

“How about seeing your sales records?”

“Oh. That is quite the strange request. What for, may I ask?”

“I’m investigating a…” Gem pauses, choosing her words carefully. “…vandalism. I thought the best place to look was where paint is sold. If you’re okay with it, of course,” she quickly adds. 

“Of course! I won’t stand for a customer that uses my services for tomfoolery!” Angus bends down, pulling open a drawer with filing folders. “I’m assuming you don’t know what the culprit looks like?”

“Not exactly, but I think they were dressed like a widow at some point.”

“Huh. What kind of a widow buys paint?” 

“…A criminal disguising themselves to vandalize without being caught?”

“Oh. Good point!” Angus drops the files onto the counter and opens them. “Okay, what colors did this widow use for vandalism?”

“Black.”

“Black paint…” Angus hums, flipping through the records. “Most people who come to my shop either want the supplies for mixing themselves or harder-to-mix colors, so it looks like… I’ve only sold it to three customers in the past six months!”

“There’s nothing from a year prior?” Gem asks. For all that she knows, The Shadow could have been planning the arson for far longer.

“Oh, yes, but most paints are useless after six months in storage,” Angus clarifies. “The pigment separates and all, and you would just be painting with some oil.”

“Ah! I see!” That’s something new she learned today.

Angus shows Gem the three purchases in question: Henry Tinsley with one bucket of black and white each; Theodore Fletcher with three buckets of brown, two buckets of red, and one bucket of black; and Rosie Golam with five buckets of paint for all the primary colors plus black and white. 

“These two both mentioned buying paint for business relating to their shops,” Angus adds, pointing to the names of the men. “Mr. Tinsley said he needed to repaint the sign for Horsehead Co. Pawn Shop, and Mr. Fletcher works for a door shop. They’re both right down this street. You’ll find them if you walk a little. As for Miss Golam, she came here representing The Gigameister Theatre. They started a new production earlier this month, actually!”

“A theatre? So the paint must’ve been for the set design,” Gem notes, scribbling on her notepad. “Thank you! This helps me a lot!”

“Of course!” Angus nods cheerily. “Stay safe during your investigation! And, if you know anyone in need of paint, you can always refer them to me,” he adds with a wink.

“I think my friend Pearl will appreciate this shop,” Gem chuckles as she steps out the door. “Thank you again! Have a nice evening!”

Upon exiting the shop, Gem swiftly makes her way towards the locations Angus pointed out before night completely falls. She makes her first stop at Horsehead Co. Pawn Shop, where she finds an empty can of white paint and an unopened can of black paint sitting next to the door. The shop sign has been freshly painted white, but the black lettering is still faded. Henry Tinsley must’ve been in the middle of painting it before it became too dark. Seeing as the black paint is completely untouched, she decides it couldn’t have been him. And judging by how he carelessly left the paint outside to be disturbed by the weather, it’s unlikely he’s the elusive Shadow she’s been tracking.

Next is the door shop, where she sees an old man, presumably Theodore Fletcher, inside the shop applying reddish paint to a window fixture. While the brown and red paints have seen considerable use (judging by the half-full cans), the black paint still sits on his shelf, unopened. Another suspect crossed off the list.

Finally, Gem arrives at The Gigameister Theatre. She attempts to enter backstage, but she is promptly stopped by guards.

“If you want an autograph from Mr. Dogworth, you can wait in line like the rest of them,” a guard says, pointing to a monstrously long line at the entrance.

“But I’m investigating a case,” Gem protests. “I need to talk to the set designers!”

“Do you have any documents proving it?”

“Um…”

“Then get in line.”

Gem sighs and joins the line. Maybe she can get the actors to relay the message for her. The things I do for this case…

After an excruciatingly long wait, Gem finally nears the front of the line, where the star of the play sits at a table, speaking to a man in a long coat ahead of her. From where she stands, she barely makes out their conversation, containing the words, “protest,” “organization,” “bodyguard,” and a whole lot of “dudes.” 

Strange… Gem thinks, leaning in closer. Who is this man, and what business does he have discussing these topics with the star? However, before she can learn more, the man tips his hat and walks away, blending amongst the crowd of showgoers. Darn.

As she shuffles to the front of the line, the star actor beams brightly at her.

“Sorry about that!” he says. “That was my friend Doc over there. We tend to talk a lot whenever we meet. I hope I didn’t delay you.”

“It’s alright. I wasn’t waiting for long,” Gem says. Doc? Interesting. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr… Dogworth?”

“Oh, you can just call me Ren!” The actor waves reassuringly. “Now, would you like me to autograph anything?”

“Actually, I hope this isn’t strange, but I’m here to ask something about the backstage,” Gem says sheepishly. “I’m a private detective on a case, you see.”

“Ooh!” Ren perks up like an excited puppy. “I’ve always loved reading detective stories as a wee lad! Do you have one of those magnifying glasses like they do in the books?”

“Yes!” Gem reaches into her bag, pulling out the tool in question. “Though I haven’t really had to use it for this case. I’m actually investigating an act of vandalism that happened.”

“Of course, of course,” Ren nods, seemingly satisfied after seeing the magnifying glass live. “How may I help you, Miss…”

“Gem Tasey. But you can just call me Gem.”

“Miss Gem! Yes, how may I help you?”

Gem lets out an internal sigh of relief, now assured that the star actor is willing to help her out. “If I may ask, is it possible for me to speak with the set designers? My main lead is a bucket of black paint.”

“Definitely!” Ren slides over a piece of paper from the pile next to him and speedily writes down a note with his signature. “Just show this to whomever is guarding the backstage. If they still don’t let you in, come back here, and I’ll vouch for you.”

Graciously accepting the note, Gem thanks Ren and wishes him luck on his next show before heading towards the backstage again. This time, the guards let her in after she shows them the note (though very reluctantly). And after a bit of aimless wandering, Gem manages to find Rosie Golam herself.

“Have you been missing a bucket of black paint at any point?” Gem asks. “Specifically last night?”

“Black paint?” Rosie frowns. “Hmm… no, we didn’t lose any, but we did receive another bucket out of nowhere today.”

“Another one?!” Gem exclaims, bewildered. This contradicts everything she has learned thus far!

“Yes, it was just sitting out next to the backstage door this morning,” Rosie clarifies. “It was about two-thirds full. It was from the same store as the ones I bought, too.”

“My gosh…” Gem mumbles, pressing her temples. “That’s really strange. Thank you, anyway.”

As Gem leaves the theatre, cogs in her brain turn with this new information. None of the three clients at Angus’s shop have been the ones, but this undocumented bucket of paint has opened up new possibilities. It’s entirely plausible that the culprit stole this bucket of paint from Angus, but that isn’t likely considering what Xavier said about Angus’s service. Clients have to place their orders ahead of time, where Angus presumably mixes their specified paints afterwards. The Shadow wouldn’t be able to steal the paint if it wasn’t already made beforehand.

What did Xavier say about the affiliation again? The NHO? What did it stand for again… right! The National Humanitarian Organization! She remembers them from the news a few days ago: they’re the main group leading the protests against the city’s construction projects. Considering this fact, it is more than likely that her culprit is a part of that association and wasn’t on Angus’s traditional customer records.

“Ack, why didn’t I think of that earlier?” Gem huffs, smacking herself in the forehead. “Get it together, Gem!”

She receives a few strange looks from other pedestrians. It was deserved, honestly.

Well, the sky is dark now. She likely won’t be able to investigate more at this time of day, and she’s done enough for now. Gem first sends a telegram X to report her findings, promising to continue her search the next day, then starts her way back home. She’ll need some rest before she faces the rest of the clues tomorrow.

“Where are you going this early?” Pearl asks.

“Gotta get started on the case,” Gem says, words muffled by the slice of toast in her mouth. As she attempts to pull on her suit jacket, she nearly knocks over a mug on the table.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Pearl exclaims, catching the cup before it shatters into a hundred pieces. “Slow down! What case? I thought you finished that thing with Molly!”

“Hold on.” Gem holds up a finger. She hastily chews and inhales her bread, much to Pearl’s disgust. “It’s a new case I just got,” she continues. “I’m going to the police to see if they have any leads.”

“Ooh, I have nothing else to do today!” Pearl chirps, standing up and throwing on her poncho. “I wanna come with!”

“Really?” Gem raises an eyebrow. “You’d rather talk to the cops instead of doing word-crosses?”

“The word crosses can’t talk back to me! I need some social interaction now that you’re going to be running off all day!”

“Talk to Isaac!”

“I’m not socializing with our landlord!”

Gem sighs, accepting the fact that Pearl isn’t going to stay behind. “Alright, fine.”

“You’ll never get rid of meeee,” Pearl sings as she skips towards the exit.

Gem snorts. Maybe it’s for the best. She needs someone to rubber-duck her thoughts off of sometimes.

During their carriage ride to Scotland Yard, Pearl starts asking questions. “Did you get the case right after Molly’s?”

“Yes. My client was waiting right outside of my office when I came back.” Gem pokes Pearl playfully with her elbow. “I was actually planning on taking us out to a nice lunch, but it looks like that’ll have to wait!”

“Aww,” Pearl pouts. “Well, you can take me out to a nicer lunch after you get paid for this job! Who’s your client, by the way? Is it anyone I know?”

“Not personally,” Gem responds vaguely. “But I don’t know if they want me to share who they are. It’s a pretty confidential case.”

“Got it…” Pearl says. “Okay! I won’t ask anything else, then.”

“Thank you,” Gem says, smiling. She can always rely on Pearl’s respect for her job’s privacy.

The girls arrive at their destination shortly, where they find Florence and Wesley just exiting the building. 

“Oh my gosh, is that who I think it is?” Pearl gasps. She begins frantically waving from within the seat, hoping to catch Florence’s attention. “Hi, False!”

Florence’s head whips aggressively towards the call, though her face instantly lights up upon spotting Pearl. “Pearl! It’s nice to see you here!”

“You two know each other?” Gem gawks as Florence walks up to the slowing carriage. “Enough to be on a nickname basis?!”

“She stops by here from time to time,” Florence explains as the two exit the carriage. “Sometimes with biscuits or other sweets. The boys love her.”

“Can confirm,” Wesley nods. “I am ‘boys’ and I adore her.”

“How did I not know about this?!” Gem turns to Pearl, dumbfounded. “We’ve been flatmates for five years!”

“Well, you never asked me!” Pearl giggles.

“You’re insufferable,” Gem says, stifling a laugh. “What are you going to tell me next? That you’re actually behind some secret mob chain?”

“The only chains I’m behind are the ones I use to make necklaces!”

“Are you two going to keep arguing, or did you come here for a reason?” Florence chuckles.

“Right,” Gem says, clearing her throat. “I came here to ask about the burnt factory from two nights earlier.”

Pearl gasps from behind her.

“Ah, that. Do you suspect it’s related to H. Bales?” Florence asks. 

“More than suspect. I know H. Bales is the one behind it.”

“You’d better be careful, then,” Wesley pipes up. “This H. Bales you’re tracking somehow managed to dispose of the guards at that warehouse that night.”

“Dispose of?!” Pearl exclaims. “Did they kill someone?”

“Wes is just being dramatic,” Florence sighs. “A few guards were hired to watch the warehouse due to all the recent sabotages, but we found them unconscious a safe distance away from the burnt remains of the factory. It was strange, since there was no evidence of struggle or concussion. They were just very groggy after waking up.”

“Groggy with no struggle?” Gem notes down. “Either our culprit knows magic, or they got their hands on anesthetics.”

“That’s what we thought as well, but we don’t know where we’d start with this investigation. We can’t search every single hospital in our current condition.” Florence waves towards the officers positioned across the street. “Mayor Goodwin just issued an order for us to patrol the streets. Our forces have been spread thin.”

“Yeah, I walked into the office today and everyone was gone,” Wesley adds. “I said, ‘Where’d everyone go? Poker?’ And then False whacked me with her cane.”

Florence whacks Wesley with her cane. “And I’ll do it again.”

As the two cops banter, Gem stands with her head tilted down and hand on her chin, mind churning with the new information. Florence is right: there is no way she’ll be able to search in every hospital and investigate their stock of anesthetics. But that might not be necessary. Her main clues point towards the NHO; that should be her focus. They’re already a large organization, so the possibilities of a doctor being a part of the plot is more than likely. Didn’t Ren also mention his friend “Doc,” who was having a conversation about some sort of a protest and an organization? What are the chances that this Doc is a part of the NHO?

“Say, Florence… What do you know about the NHO?” Gem says, finally lifting her head. “Is there anyone involved that’s on your radar?”

“Oh, those guys,” Florence says with a groan. “They’ve been a big pain in the arse these past few days, with their ongoing protest and all. The leader, Meinke Ziegenbein, especially. He’s unrelenting.”

“I see…” That’s a new name. Gem scribbles it down, attempting to spell it to the best of her ability. “In that case, I can help you look into the NHO, if you’d like! I was thinking, since they’re already against the mayor, there might be a doctor in that group that’s providing anesthetics.”

“Oh, that would be excellent!” Florence says. “It might actually be better if you were the one who approached them. They don’t like us very much, so you’ll likely be able to get more information from them than we can.”

“Great!” Gem snaps her notepad shut. “We’ll get out of your hair, then.”

“Thank you for your help,” Florence replies with a modest smile. “Stay safe on your search.”

“You don’t have to worry, False!” Pearl assures, holding her fists up. “I’ll do a superkick if anyone attacks us!”

“You’ll kick a crazy arsonist?” Gem giggles.

“All the way to Australia!”

With that, Gem and Pearl bid the cops farewell and move along their way.

Gem considers her next move. It’s unlikely that she’ll just stumble into the NHO without any leads first. She doubts she’ll be able to join one of their protests, much less speak to the head during that time. Fortunately, she happens to know someone with a direct connection.

“Alright, Pearlo,” Gem says. “How do you feel about watching a play?”

“How do I feel?” Pearl squeals. “GREAT! What are we watching?”

“Whatever’s playing at The Gigameister Theatre!”

The first show of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde featuring Ren Dogworth is at 7:00 P.M., so Gem picks up some muffins from Molly, spends her time sorting out her notes, and updates X on the details while waiting. Pearl can hardly contain her excitement, nearly bouncing off her seat at any given chance. After a brief dinner of potato soup, the girls set off for The Gigameister Theatre, right in time for its evening opening.

Pearl practically vibrates in her seat through the entire play while Gem observes Ren’s impressive acting. She has never watched any of his plays before, and this feature is an excellent first experience. Ren is quite incredible at acting possessed. 

After the play ends, Gem and Pearl rush to the line for Ren’s autographs. They fortunately make it near the front, where they only have to wait a few minutes to reach his desk. 

“Hey!” Ren greets with a toothy grin. “You’re back!”

“Yes!” Gem exclaims. “And I actually watched the entire performance this time! Very lovely acting, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” Ren says, bashfully rubbing the back of his head. “Is this your friend?”

“HI MR. DOGWORTH I’M A HUGE FAN!” Pearl blurts out, unable to contain her excitement. “CAN YOU PLEASE SIGN MY… Uh…” Pearl frantically pats around her skirt before grabbing her bag and holding it out. 

“Of course!” Ren says, delightedly taking Pearl’s bag. As he uncaps his pen, he asks, “Did you want to talk about something, or were you just here for the show?”

“Yes, actually,” Gem says. “Can I ask a favor from you?”

“Go right ahead!” Ren hands the bag back to Pearl, who accepts it with a squeal of delight. 

“That friend you were talking to yesterday,” Gem says. “Is it possible for you to contact him on my behalf?”

“I’d be happy to, but you can actually talk to him directly!” Ren says. “The NHO protest finally ended today, so he should be at the Old Jungle Pub on weekday nights as usual.”

“That’s actually a lot more convenient! Thank you!” So he is a part of NHO. She’s on the right track.

“If you see him, can you tell him that I miss his face?” Ren asks with puppy-dog eyes.

“Didn’t you just see him yesterday?”

“True, but I still miss his face. Also, you’re a detective, right? Surely, you know Falsie.”

“…As a matter of fact, I do!”

“Can you also tell her I miss her face?”

“Alright, I’ll make sure to relay your message to them,” Gem chuckles. “You have a lot of connections, like Pearl here!”

“What can I say?” Ren shrugs with a smile. “It’s natural as an actor.”

“And as someone who runs around the city for a living!” Pearl adds.

“Heck yeah, sister!” Ren holds his hand up for a high-five, which Pearl gleefully returns. 

Gem laughs at the silliness between her friend and the star actor. She’s heard of this saying, nomen omen est: the name is an omen of the bearer’s fate. Ren Dogworth is definitely an example of this, as he seems to be a large, friendly dog trapped in a human body.

After Pearl miraculously manages to obtain Ren’s contact information, the two wave goodbye and leave the theatre before the long line of fans behind them start rioting at how long they’re taking. 

“What’s that about this doctor?” Pearl asks as they walk out onto the streets. “Are we heading to the pub to meet him?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘we,’” Gem says. “I think you should go home. This is an official investigation now.”

“You can’t say that after watching a play for an ‘official investigation!’” Pearl pouts, crossing her arms.

“Fine,” Gem relents, sighing. “You can come, but only if you behave.”

“I am the most well-behaved person in the entirety of England! You can count on me!”

Gem knows her friend well enough to doubt that statement. 

On the way to the pub, the girls run into two familiar faces working street construction. Kerrill and Lehmann are hard at work, patching up the cracks in the pavement from earlier protests. 

“Hey, it’s the great detective!” Kerrill remarks as Gem approaches the site. “It’s nice to see you again!”

“You, too!” Gem greets. “Did you wrap up any loose ends with Booker yesterday, or did he just take off?”

“Yeah, about that,” Lehmann starts, “It turned out that he was actually a founder of the NHO! I really wished we got to talk to him more.”

The mention of NHO piques Gem’s interest. 

“He apologized about getting us in trouble after that,” Kerrill adds. “He said it was for one of their projects. I couldn’t get mad at him for that, especially with his sweet face!”

“That’s good to hear,” Gem says with a nod. “Good luck on your construction!”

The construction workers wave goodbye and return to their jobs.

“What happened yesterday?” Pearl asks. “Who’s this Booker?”

“Molly hired me to investigate a foul smell, and we found that it was coming from these bags of sulfur that Booker was delivering to the construction site,” Gem briefly explains. “And now, we also know he’s a member of the NHO. The clues are stacking up quite cleanly!”

Three new clues leading directly to the NHO. First with Angus and the paints, then with Ren and his friend. Now, with Booker. Two instances can still be played off as a coincidence, but three becomes a pattern.

This might just be her big break.

Chapter Text

Aster holds his composure as his guest slams the table with his fist.

“Why would you meet with me if you weren’t planning to listen to begin with?” the man hisses. 

“You have to understand, Doctor,” Aster says calmly. “The mayor’s speech is upon us. We can’t afford any distractions at the moment. I will have him speak to you after it’s over.”

“Distractions?” The doctor scoffs. “This is exactly what we’re trying to turn him away from. You and I both know that he’ll be calling for more factories to be built during that very speech. Remember, the strike has only been halted. I can still call for the union to continue.”

“It won’t make a difference if you speak to him directly,” Aster says, hands folded coolly. “The mayor is as stubborn as you are. We have to deal with his troubles before we can consider yours. Continue the protest all you want. He will continue to ignore it as he always has. Unless…” He narrows his eyes. “you have more… extreme methods?”

Gem and Pearl enter the Old Jungle Pub to a bustling environment full of glasses clinking and guests chattering.

“I don’t know why, but I didn’t think there’d be so many people,” Gem remarks, fanning her face with her notepad. “Is this room warm because of the heaters, or is it because of all the guests?”

“Why wouldn’t there be people?” Pearl asks. “It’s a weekday evening! Of course people would—” She stops abruptly once she spots a group of people at a poker table. “Wait, they’re playing cards!” Pearl clasps her hands together and pleads, “Can I please please please please please join them?”

“What happened to behaving?” Gem says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nobody ever plays cards with me back home!” Pearl exclaims. 

“Because you beat us both every time!”

“Yeah! So let me kick these strangers’ butts!”

“Okay, okay, go play your cards,” Gem says, motioning with the back of her hand. “It’ll probably be more fun than listening to me talk.”

“Yay!” Pearl cheers. “I’ll win something nice for us, just you watch!”

With that, she darts off into the crowd.

“I wish I could watch,” Gem mutters. “If only it weren’t for The Shadow…”

Oh, well. Pearl can have some fun for the both of them. 

Straightening her coat, Gem steps into the mass of pub guests for her main goal of the night: finding her suspect. 

“Excuse me?” Gem calls out. “Excuse me, does anyone know a doctor here? He’s a part of the NHO!”

She continues to wander around, calling out, but her voice hardly makes it through the other guests’ chatter. That, or she receives a few strange looks. Gem scans around for any signs of the man she saw talking to Ren yesterday, though her short stature isn’t particularly helpful for this search. All she can see ahead of her is dresses, suits, and hats. Curse this height!

While weaving through the other guests, Gem’s foot catches the tip of someone’s cane, causing her to stumble forward. She yelps, flailing her arms — until another pair of arms catches her.

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks from above. 

Gem snaps up towards the voice, where her eyes land on a man wearing a top hat and trench coat. 

“Ah!” she squeaks, rushing back to her feet. “My apologies!”

“There’s no need to apologize,” the man chuckles. He has a subtle German accent. “It tends to get busy this time of day.”

“I can tell,” Gem responds, dusting off her skirt. “Do you come here regularly?”

“Oh, all the time,” the man says. “This pub is like my second home; I practically know all the regulars here.”

“Is that so!” Gem says. All the regulars. This is her chance! “Actually, I’m looking for someone here. Do you know any doctor who also comes here regularly? He’s a part of the NHO and a friend of Ren Dogworth, if that helps.”

The man raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Well, isn’t this an interesting coincidence? I just so happen to be a doctor who is a part of the NHO and a friend of Ren Dogworth.” Tipping his hat, he says, “Meinke Ziegenbein, co-founder of the NHO. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Gasping, Gem exclaims, “You’re also the co-founder?!” She hastily holds out her hand for the doctor to shake. “Sorry! Please excuse my ignorance! It’s an honor to meet you, Doctor Mine… Mein…”

The doctor laughs, shaking her hand. “You may just call me Doctor M. Actually, scratch that. Just Doc is fine. Most of the union members call me that, anyway. How may I address you, miss?”

“Gem Tasey, but you may call me Gem,” Gem responds. “I’m a private detective.”

“And you were looking for me?” Doc asks. “How may I help you?”

“Is it possible for us to discuss this in a less… open location?” Gem says, glancing at the crowd around them. 

Nodding, Doc leads her behind the counter of the bar, motioning at the bartender as he passes, into a room in the back of the pub. Without the distractions of other pub guests, Gem considers her next step.

She is investigating the NHO for Florence as much as she is for herself, so it will be important for her to be clear about her goals and questions. However, if Doc is, in fact, the one behind the threats, then… Well, that would pose a danger. Especially when they’re alone in a back room of a noisy pub. Oops. Maybe she should’ve thought this through a bit more. (It should be fine, though. She has the pointy end of her umbrella. That should protect her well enough in the worst-case scenario.)

“So…” Gem clears her throat. “I’ve been hired to crack a case of threats against the mayor.”

A look of surprise flashes over Doc’s face. “Ah, so that’s what’s going on. I suppose it makes sense, considering the burnt warehouse two nights ago.”

“Precisely,” Gem continues. “Before that, the mayor had also received letters addressed from ‘The Shadow’ with similar threats. Which is the exact name used to sign the wall of the burnt factory that day. And while I was investigating, every lead I found — the anesthetized guards protecting the warehouse, the paint used on the wall being sold by the NHO associate Angus van Housen, the other co-founder Booker transporting sulfur…” 

Doc’s eyes widen at the mention of these findings.

“…they all point to you,” Gem finishes. “Or, at least, the NHO. So, Doc.” She eyes him sternly. “What do you have to say about this?”

“Ah…” Doc rubs his chin. “This certainly puts me in an incriminating position, doesn’t it?”

“Sorry,” Gem says. “I don’t want to cause any trouble with a respected union, but this is where my job led to.”

“Very well,” Doc says, crossing his arms with a sigh. “I can see your path and how you came across the NHO. But, to start with, we are the National Humanitarian Organization. We want to see reform happen, but we — or at least, I would never call for arson or threats to be a solution. We’re diplomats, Miss Gem. Besides,” he chuckles, “I tried the threatening approach when I was younger and stupider. It never got me anywhere, so I’m here now.”

“I see,” Gem says, noting down his words. “How can you explain the clues I found, then?” 

“I carry around a few bottles of chloroform for union emergencies,” Doc explains. “For severely injured members on the job or at protests and the such. Someone could have snuck into my supplies and taken it, or I might have left a bottle out by accident. That is my fault. I’ll keep a tighter eye on my supply.

“As for the paint, Angus is another co-founder of the NHO. We use his paints for various union activities, as you can imagine. We were in an ongoing protest up until today, so we had signs and symbols painted.”

“Do you think it’s possible that the culprit stole your supply?” Gem asks.

“It’s very possible,” Doc nods. “We weren’t keeping track of the paints. Though, they would need to know where to find the supply.”

“Hm.” Gem scribbles in her notepad. So there’s still a high chance that the culprit is an NHO affiliate.

“And Chester Booker,” Doc says. Gem immediately writes that name down. “I would ask him directly about the sulfur, but he’s not here today. I do remember him using earlier shipments to make fertilizer, though. He’s involved in greenhouses and gardening.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Gem says dejectedly. It looks like she’s at a dead end again. “I apologize for accusing you so harshly.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” Doc reassures. “I’m actually glad you presented me with concrete evidence instead of making vague accusations.” He scowls. “Ugh, like that mayor’s bodyguard. He was a real piece of work.”

“What happened?” Gem asks. Could it be the same bodyguard from his earlier conversation with Ren?

“The union’s protest halted today after the mayor’s bodyguard contacted me to discuss our demands,” Doc says. “He told me that he couldn’t talk to the mayor at the moment, so our protest was essentially pointless.” Doc shakes his head disapprovingly. “Then, he even had the gall to accuse me of being behind the threats and warehouse arson! Without any evidence, mind you. He just straight up called me a criminal.” 

“Really now!” Gem exclaims. “That’s awfully rude of someone representing the city!”

“Exactly!” Doc agrees. “I had to leave so I wouldn’t punch him on the spot.”

The two share a short laugh, and the tension loosens in the room. 

“Well, thank you for telling me your end of the story,” Gem says. “I’m glad that an NHO leader isn’t involved in this! Though,” she adds, clicking her tongue, “it is a bit disappointing that my search didn’t lead me much closer to the culprit. By any chance, do you know anything that might help my search?”

“Let’s see.” Doc hums in consideration. “It could be possible… that they are involved in this…”

“Who’s ‘they?’”

“I hope this isn’t the case, but I just thought of the Mycelium Resistance,” Doc responds. “They’re a group of environmental activists that we’re partnered with.”

“Oh, I’ve read about them before in a small newspaper!” Gem says. “They fought hard with the previous mayor to keep that small patch of trees instead of building factories on the land, didn’t they?”

“That exactly,” Doc says, nodding. “They primarily focus on halting the construction of factories and warehouses, so one of their members might be behind the threats. They are a bit hard to find, though, being an underground organization and all.”

“Could you tell me where to find the leader?”

“Sorry, that is something I can’t disclose. I promised them not to speak about the members, and I’m a man of my word.”

“Ah.” Gem’s heart sinks. There goes another lead. “That’s reasonable.”

“If it is their doing, I’m sure you’ll be able to find clues that lead to them in time,” Doc remarks, patting her on the shoulder reassuringly. “So I hope this information at least gives you a direction to look.”

Before Gem can thank Doc, a series of fast knocks rap against the door behind them. 

“Doc, someone wishes to speak with you,” a voice says from the other side. 

“I’ll be right there!” Doc shouts back. Turning back to Gem, he says, “I apologize. I wish I could help you more, but there’s not much else I can tell you right now. Chester and Angus aren’t here today, but Logan can speak with you further. He should just be at the bar playing darts.”

Gem extends her gratitude to Doc as they re-enter the main room, where Doc joins a small gathering around a table at the other end of the pub. Meanwhile, Gem makes her way to the bar, where she finds a black-haired man — presumably Logan — playing darts, just as Doc specified. 

In the middle of the darts game, a particularly well-dressed pub guest sneaks up to the bar counter and attempts to steal money out of the tip jar. Logan spots this from the corner of his eye and jabs the man with his cane, causing the man to trip and alert the bartender, who calls him out with a loud “Oi!” As the thief scampers away, more coins fall out of his pocket, which Logan picks up and drops back into the tip jar.

“Bourgeois pig,” she hears Logan mutter.

This Logan guy is certainly a character, judging by his first impressions.

Steeling her nerves, Gem approaches the bar and says, “Excuse me? Are you Logan?” Hopefully, he won’t mind being called by just his first name.

Logan turns around, dart still in hand. She notices that he’s wearing glasses and has a faded scar running across his left eye. 

“Who’s asking?” he demands sternly, narrowing his eyes. Just as nervousness seizes Gem’s chest, his eyes soften, and he laughs. “Nah, I’m just messing with you.” Holding out a hand, he introduces himself with a grin: “Logan Pathos, at your service. How may I help?”

“Gem Tasey,” Gem says, shaking his hand (and her jitters away). “I was just talking to Doc about this case I’m on, and he said I could find you for further discussion.”

“Doc sent you? Hold on.” 

Logan gestures for his darts opponent to give them a little space. The guest tips their hat and walks away, leaving the two alone. Gem then briefly recaps what she told Doc while Logan listens intently. She mentions the threats, the warehouse arson, the clues she found that led her to the NHO, and Doc’s explanations.

“He didn’t tell me much about the Mycelium Resistance in the end,” Gem concludes. “So… I suppose I’ll have to find them on my own. Then, someone needed him, and we had to cut the conversation short.”

“I see,” Logan says, nodding. “That’s a shame. Being the head of communication makes him quite busy.”

“I wish I could’ve talked with him more outside just the case, honestly,” Gem adds. “I’ve never seen him in person before this. He seems like a really nice man who cares a lot about this organization.”

“You’re right about that,” Logan agrees with a smile. “He’s the most hands-on with planning union activities out of the four of us. Have you seen those sections in the Hermiton Herald of meaningless gibberish?”

“Yes, I’ve always wondered about those. Why?”

“That’s all his work. He sneaks in special codes for the NHO members for special meetings or plans, and the newspapers are perfect for spreading secret information to a wide audience.”

“Really! That’s incredible!”

“He is! None of us would be here if it weren’t for his efforts. He really brought us all together.”

Gem can now see why Doc and Ren would be such great friends. Both are passionate individuals who wish to spread their presence to a wide audience, whether it be through acting or leading a union. Although, she would hope that Doc doesn’t act possessed while doing so.

“Oh, wait, what am I doing?” Logan smacks himself on the side of his head. “I’ve been making you stand this whole time!”

“That’s okay!” Gem assures. “I’m fine with standing a little.”

“No, no, I insist,” Logan says, pulling out a chair at the bar. “And, also,” he whispers playfully, “my legs need to rest after standing and playing darts for so long,”

Gem giggles and takes a seat, as does Logan, where he props his cane against the counter and crosses his legs.

“Would you like a drink?” Logan asks. “They have just about anything here. The bourbon is great.”

“Oh, sorry — I don’t drink,” Gem replies.

“Me neither,” Logan chuckles. “Doc just tells me to recommend it to new guests. How about hot chocolate? Or is it too warm in here?”

“It’s never too warm for hot chocolate!”

“That’s what I keep saying! The other co-founders always make fun of me for thinking that.”

“Well, I think they just don’t recognize the value of a nice chocolatey drink for every season.”

“You get it. I’ll take that as a yes to the order, then!”

Logan calls the bartender to make two hot chocolates, and he returns with two steaming mugs a moment later. As the two sip on their drinks, they continue the earlier conversation.

“I can tell you what I know about the Mycelium Resistance, as long as it doesn’t include naming the members,” Logan says. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, I suppose just the general demeanor of the organization and what they do,” Gem replies. “Have they been active lately?”

“They are quite active right now, as far as I know. Most people just aren’t aware of it, because the NHO protests tend to hide what they’re doing. The leader is surprisingly tame this time around, now that I think about it.”

“Tame?”

Logan laughs, setting down his mug. “Yeah, he’s a wildcard. I love the guy, but his stunts are pretty insane. He released a hundred cows onto a construction site last year just to stall a project.”

“Holy—” Gem nearly chokes on her drink. “Wow! I don’t think I’ve read about that one!”

“Because it was covered up in all the major newspapers,” Logan snickers. “They didn’t want the public to know that it was a herd of cattle which stalled construction for nearly a month. Imagine how embarrassing that would’ve been!”

“That’s… I don’t know if I should be amazed or concerned!”

“Both! And guess what? That’s not even the most extreme measure he’s taken.” 

“It gets more insane?”

“You bet! Back with the previous mayor, he blew a factory sky high while it was in the middle of construction. And whatever he was trying must’ve worked, since the mayor stopped the project immediately after.”

“Blew up!” Gem says with a huff. That sounds right in line with the arsonist she’s been hunting! “You weren’t exaggerating when you said extreme. I guess the leader of the Mycelium Resistance should be who I’m looking for…”

“I can understand why he’s like this, honestly,” Logan says with a shrug. He picks his mug back up and swirls it around before taking another sip. “You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. Especially with Mayor Goodwin. He’s nearly impossible to approach because of his bodyguard. That guy sticks to him like glue.”

“Doc told me all about him.” Gem scrunches her nose, remembering the bodyguard’s response. “I’m sorry about the failed protest.”

“We were all disappointed to hear it,” Logan sighs. “But it’s not all in vain. The protest generated a lot of attention from the general public, and many more of them are aware of the mayor’s negligence. I’m sure we’ll get more joining our cause in due time.”

“Count me in as a part of that crowd, I suppose!” Gem says with a giggle. “I hope my investigation can help the NHO’s efforts.”

“I believe in you, Detective,” Logan says, smiling warmly. “You’ve already helped us a lot by sharing your findings. Just make sure you’re careful in your investigation — there are dangerous people out there!”

“Aww, thank you,” Gem replies, bashfully scratching her cheek. “If you need any more information, I’d be happy to continue sharing what I find.”

“That would be great! The NHO would also be happy to support you if you need any help. Actually, you can even send a telegram to this pub if you ever need to contact us.” Logan swivels his chair towards the counter, calling out, “Hey, Pausie?”

The bartender stops cleaning the glass in his hands and shoots Logan a dirty look. “What is it this time, Rent Boy?”

“Can you save any telegrams delivered to me from Miss Tasey? Also, don’t call me that in front of guests. I’m not saving your tips next time.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll save ‘em. Also, you’re one to talk. Stop calling me Pausie, idiot.”

“Sorry about Paul,” Logan says to Gem with a puckish grin, holding back his laughter. “He’s a spoilsport.”

“Mark my words, Pathos,” Paul hisses, pointing the glass menacingly at Logan. “Next time you say that, I’ll charge you to play darts.”

“He doesn’t really mean it,” Logan says teasingly.

“I don’t know, he looks like he does!” Gem giggles. “Thanks, Mr. Paul, for helping me out.”

“It’s my pleasure, miss,” Paul says with an acknowledging nod. As he turns to face Logan, his expression immediately changes into a smirk. “You hear that, Ladders? I’m helping her out. Not you.”

“Sure, sure,” Logan waves his hand with a chuckle. “Anyway, Gem, I wish you luck on your investigation. Thanks for taking the time to talk to us. I appreciate it, and I’m sure Doc does, too.”

“No, thank you for the insight!” Gem returns. “And the hot chocolate! It’s delicious! I should order this for Pearl next…”

Gem’s voice trails off as her friend’s name leaves her mouth, striking her with an acute moment of clarity. Pearl. Who ran off during the start of her investigation. And disappeared into a crowd. Where she is nowhere to be seen. 

“Crap, I forgot about Pearl!” Gem yelps, jumping up from her seat. “It was very lovely meeting you, but I have to go find her!”

“Wait, I can come look with you!” Logan exclaims, propping himself up with his cane. “What does she look like?”

“She’s tall and has a poncho!” Gem says as she shoves through the crowd, followed closely by Logan. “Unless, um, she took it off! Then she has… long brown hair? I don’t know!”

Gem dashes into the crowd of pub guests. Her eyes dart around for any sign of her friend, but all she can see ahead of her is dresses, coats, and hats. Thankfully, Logan and his absurd height help her out this time, letting her know where she’s going and honestly just providing a bit of emotional support knowing that someone is in this mess with her.

“‘Scuse me, have you seen my friend?” she calls out. “She’s tall, blue, and very friendly!”

“She’s wearing a poncho, unless she took it off!” Logan calls out after Gem, repeating her description from earlier. “She has long brown hair!”

All of a sudden, a loud cheer erupts from the corner of the room. The two whirl towards the noise, where people have gathered around a game of poker. At the end of the table, with her hands up, is none other than Pearl herself — face as red as a tomato and cheering at the top of her lungs.

“Is that your friend?” Logan asks. “She’s tall, blue, and seems friendly.”

“Yeah, that’s her!” Gem shoves past the people ahead of her, finally reaching the front of the table. “Pearl!” she shouts. “Pearl, I’m here!”

“Huh?” Pearl looks around the crowd after hearing her name, and her eyes land on Gem across the table. “Oh, hiiiii Gem!” she giggles, nearly flopping over the table surface. “Guess what?” She holds up a fat stack of cash like a drunken pirate showing off his treasure. “We don’t need to worry about rent this month!”

“…Alright, I can excuse you this time,” Gem says with a grimace. She shuffles towards Pearl, just in time to catch her friend from smacking face-first onto the table. “Good lord, just how much did you drink?”

“Just one shot,” Pearl says through a fit of giddy laughter. Gem gives her “the look.” “Okay, fine, I was hiding the zero after the one.”

“Ten?!” Gem shouts. “We need to go home right now!”

“Sorryyyy,” Pearl says, but Gem can tell that she enjoyed every second of it and doesn’t regret her decision in the slightest.

Logan helps Gem hoist Pearl up over her shoulder and walks the girls back to the entrance. 

“Sorry our conversation had to end this way,” Gem says with a short laugh. “But I hope we can work together more in the future!”

“Of course!” Logan says. “It’s up to people like us to help those in need. We’ll be here for you if you need our assistance!”

As Gem steps out the door, she waves goodbye to her new colleague, and he waves back before shutting the door to the Old Jungle Pub. 

This is amazing. She’s made such an important ally. The NHO opens up a completely new network she didn’t have access to previously, and all she has to do is send a telegram to Logan! She’ll tell X about this development and inform Florence that her trails have led to the Mycelium Resistance instead so the cops can take some heat off the NHO. 

Of course, that’ll have to be after a long trek back to her flat with a totally wasted Pearl slumping over her shoulder. Her investigation will continue after an evening intermission.

Just you wait, Shadow! Gem thinks. I’ll find you soon enough!

Chapter Text

“My secretary just showed me another letter threatening to do awful things during the speech,” Mayor Goodwin says with a sigh. “It sounds like this shadow person is pretty serious.”

“Quite,” Aster says dryly.

“But you’ll protect me if anything happens, right?” the mayor says, all-too-nonchalantly.

“With my life,” Aster responds. “Still, you need to be more careful. There’s only so much I can do.”

“I trust you,” Mayor Goodwin lightly pats Aster on the shoulder. “Well! I have a meeting with the council. Make sure none of this gets out, as usual.”

“Of course, sir.”

Gem stands in the living room, in front of a wooden board, sticking newspaper clippings together and knocking strings into the board with a thumbtack, hardly even noticing Pearl entering the room with two cups of tea.

“Woah!” Pearl exclaims as Gem rips a piece of paper off the wall. “Look out! If you ruin the wallpaper, Isaac will come in here and paint everything white!”

“Says you, the one who keeps all her side hobbies on my investigative notes,” Gem returns with a snort, waving the paper in her hand. 

“Excuse me,” Pearl says, dragging her words dramatically, “I’ll have you know, these are quests, not hobbies!”

“Is that so? Then why are you making a necklace out of…” Gem glances down at the paper. “…chicken bones?”

“Parakeet bones, actually,” Pearl corrects, setting down the tea and snatching the sheet out of Gem’s hand. “It’s for Jevin.”

“Jevin wants a necklace made of bones?”

“Well, he didn’t ask for it specifically! I got these bones from helping out at the library, so I figured I’d turn them into a necklace to trade with Jevin for some fabrics and then I can make clothes for the local grocer’s baby!”

“You know the grocer enough to make her baby clothes?”

“Yeah! How do you think I’ve been getting our groceries?”

“…Wow, okay. You might just be busier than me.”

“What can I say? I’m employed by the people! Anyway, what are you doing on the wall?”

Gem sighs. “Trying to make sense of this mess. It’s been two days, and I haven’t gotten any leads on The Shadow. All I have is a bunch of dead ends.”

Doc had called her the day before to ask if he could share some information about her search with the NHO. He promised not to reveal too much; only enough to inform the other members about how it’s also affecting them. Gem figured it also could lead her to more information about the leader of the Mycelium Resistance, so she offered her help. But so far, nothing has cropped up. She and X even looked through old newspaper clippings from the previous mayor’s times in search for any articles that might have possibly mentioned the leader’s name. Still, nothing. Finding the leader may be even harder than she initially expected.

“I see…” Pearl says, thoughtfully scanning the board. “Woah, is that Molly? What’s she doing up there with the leader of the NHO?”

“You know him?” Gem asks, shocked. “But you ran off before I met with him at the pub!”

“Well, not personally,” Pearl clarifies. “I’ve just heard his name a lot when I’m out, and I figured that must’ve been him on the news recently.”

“Okay, with all that running you do around the city, do you know anything about the Mycelium Resistance?” Gem says, jokingly.

Pearl pauses for a second, as if actually considering the conjecture, and then shakes her head. “Heard the name somewhere, but not really. Is it related to your case?”

“It’s the biggest lead I have so far,” Gem says, shrugging dejectedly. “Haven’t got anything about them, other than some old news articles. At this point, you should take over my job; you could probably figure out who they are just by asking all your friends around the city!”

“Aww, I’m sure you’ll find some clues soon.” Pearl picks the cups back up from the table and holds one out to Gem. “Take a break and have some tea! You’ve been at this for the whole day!”

“I guess a break would be nice.” Gem takes the cup. “Thanks, Pearl-o.”

“Oh, yeah, are you still trying to find that arsonist?” Pearl asks while stirring cream into her own cup. “What’s the Mycelium Resistance got to do with it?”

“It’s a long story,” Gem says, lifting the cup to her lips. “I can explain a little after—”

A loud knock at the door interrupts her.

“Who could that be?” Pearl remarks. 

“Maybe it’s X,” Gem wonders out loud. “Or a telegram!”

Setting down her cup, Gem rushes down the stairs and pulls open the door — to a short man (or maybe a child?) with a cracked front tooth, wearing a red bandana on his forehead.

Before she can ask him about his business, he holds up a finger with a dissuasive tsk tsk. “You’ve gotta stop getting in my way before something bad happens!”

“What’s all this, then?” Pearl says, poking her head out the door. “Do you know this guy, Gem?”

“No…? I’m sorry, who are you?” Gem asks with a squint. Getting in my way? What does he mean?

“You may call me Bdubs,” he says with a ninety-degree bow, which he shoots up from after just a second. “However, I’m very disappointed to inform you that I am not the culprit of your case,” he continues in an overly-exaggerated drawl. 

Disappointed? Gem thinks. 

“But I have something better!” Bdubs dramatically pulls out a sheet of paper with boxes on it. “Ta-da!”

Pearl takes one glance at the paper. “A… word-cross? What’s so special about that?”

“It’s specifically a word-cross that you have to solve if you want to find the bomb I have planted in this city!” Bdubs exclaims, puffing out his chest proudly.

“WHAT,” Gem says.

“THE. BOMB?” Pearl says.

“The bomb!” Bdubs repeats, much-too-excitedly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Gem splutters, snatching the paper out of Bdubs’s hand. Surely enough, it’s just as Pearl said: a regular word-cross, hand-drawn with a pen. “Is this some kind of joke? Why would you tell us where to find your bomb? With a word-cross, no less?”

“Why, it’s fun, of course! This riddle is very fuzzing—” 

He pauses.

“It’s gonna make you fuzzled—”

He pauses again.

“You’d better get going before you blow—”

He pauses again. Gem and Pearl stare at him.

“…Do you mean that we should get going before it blows up?” Pearl asks.

“YES, THAT!” Bdubs yells. “Now, get going before it blows up! Definitely don’t rip the clock out! It’ll deactivate everything, so don’t do it!” He claps. “Now, my dear scrunklers!”

“What?” Gem says, still processing the previous statement about the bomb.

“Next time, detective, be more careful about where you talk! The walls have ears, especially in a large pub!”

Gem’s eyes widen upon hearing his words. The pub?

“Good luck!” Bdubs exclaims without further elaboration. “With the bomb!”

He then proceeds to somersault down the pavement and into an alleyway, leaving Gem flabbergasted at the doorway.

“Is… is this some sort of a prank?” Pearl asks, craning her neck to look at the paper. “This word-cross even has a drawing of a cartoon dog on it.”

“THAT’S A BEAR!” a distant voice shouts.

“Pearl, I don’t think this is a prank,” Gem says, head snapping towards her friend. “He heard what I said to the NHO leaders! There might very well be a bomb in London!”

“WHAT?” Pearl shrieks. “Then it could explode any minute!” She shoves Gem out the door in a panic. 

“Hold on, hold on!” Gem protests, stumbling forward and whirling back around. “Let me get my coat and bag first!”

“You didn’t tell me you were on a case with bombs!” Pearl shouts as the two of them charge back upstairs. “I thought this was just the warehouse arson!”

“I-I don’t know?!” Gem says, grabbing her hat and coat off the coat rack and hastily throwing them on. “The bombs are a new development! I was just looking into the recent vandalizations of factories and whatnot!”

“What kind of vandals would threaten you with explosives?!” Pearl snatches Gem’s bag off the floor and shoves it into her hands. “What’s going on with your case?”

Gem pauses her rush out the door to turn to Pearl solemnly. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“I swear on it,” Pearl replies, holding up two uncrossed fingers. “Give me the summary, quick!”

Taking a deep breath, Gem says, “Basically, I’ve been hired by the mayor’s secretary to look into a string of threats the mayor had been receiving. I’ve been stuck for the past two days, but considering that I just got threatened with bombs, I think I’m heading in the right direction.”

“That’s insane!” Pearl responds, appropriately shocked. “Then we have to defuse it, now!”

“We?”

“Did you think I’d leave you alone with such a crazy case?” Pearl says, throwing on her poncho and pulling Gem along before she has a chance to protest. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“To the bomb!”

“I have to solve the puzzle first!”

“Oh. Okay, then solve it! Quick!”

Whipping out a pen, Gem immediately sets on solving the word-cross. The questions themselves are childishly simple, but none of the words seem to match a theme. It’s only when Pearl comments on the numbered boxes that Gem realizes the words, when put into number order, form a word: LONDONBRIDGE.

With the bomb location found, the girls race down the stairs and out the door (almost crashing into a very confused Isaac on the way out), shouting at the nearest carriage to stop for them. They hastily leap onto the cart (much to the poor driver’s inconvenience), and the instant the carriage stops at their location, Gem and Pearl leap onto the pavement and make a mad dash for the London Bridge, pushing and shoving through the crowd, yelling “Excuse me! Pardon!” the whole way through. 

Upon reaching the bridge, Gem’s heart sinks with dismay upon spotting the rows of carriages and pedestrians walking across it. How the heck is she supposed to find the bomb with this many people? 

“Gem, look!” Pearl exclaims, grabbing Gem’s arm and turning her towards the side of the bridge. “It’s that weird dog on the puzzle!”

Well, that solves the issue.

The two make their way to the side of the bridge and squat down in front of a drawing of a cartoon bear placed over a suspicious lump of mechanical parts. Ripping it off reveals a bundle of cylindrical bombs and a partially-disassembled pocket watch with a part of the wire stuck to the hour hand of the watch and the other part placed on the number “two” of the clock quadrant — ten whole hours to go.

“Two in the morning?” Pearl snorts while Gem tears the watch off the packet, which successfully deactivates the bomb, just as Bdubs warned. “Did he have so little faith in you that he expected you to take ten hours?”

“Let’s hope it stays that way!” Gem exclaims, carefully placing the bomb and watch parts into her bag. “I’d rather him have little faith than too much!”

The triviality of the word-cross combined with Bdubs outright telling her where to find the bomb makes Gem wonder about his true goals. Is it some kind of a distraction? Is he trying to get her out of the house? Well, he would have had no way of knowing if Pearl would stay inside, and Isaac is still in the house as well. It must also be a pretty lousy distraction if the problem barely takes an hour to solve. 

Gem peers at the bomb in her bag one more time before closing it. It’s quite curious that even though the bomb appears to be hastily-constructed, it uses smart engineering to set off the explosive without using an electrical detonator, like a proper timer. This must be the work of someone who is familiar with mechanics. 

…Wait, didn’t Logan mention the Mycelium Resistance leader “blowing a factory sky high?” Maybe this bomb was made by the leader. Is Bdubs the leader…? Gem considers the short man’s attitude for a second and how he was completely unconcerned with hiding his identity, which is a stark contrast against the supposed anonymity of the leader through the years. Okay, probably not. But she’ll keep tabs on him regardless, since it’s more than likely that he’s a part of the organization and was sent out to distract her from finding the leader. 

“Let’s first turn this thing in to the police,” Gem says, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “I don’t want to keep a bomb in the flat.”

“Oh, that’s a much better idea than what I was thinking,” Pearl remarks.

“What is it?”

“I was gonna suggest throwing it in the trash.”

“Oh my gosh, Pearl!”

With the London Bridge no longer under the threat of exploding, the girls take their time on the walk to Scotland Yard. Pearl even insists on stopping by Molly’s shop and comes out with a box of biscuits. Once they arrive at the station, Gem realizes how strangely empty it is — the entire building is devoid of any cops, save for Wesley slumped over on the counter, presumably asleep.

“Where’d everyone go?” Pearl asks, scanning around the room.

“I think everyone’s gone because of the mayor’s orders to increase police patrol,” Gem replies, recalling what Florence told her about the forces being “spread thin.”

“Aw, heck,” Pearl huffs. “Does that mean we have to come back tomorrow?”

“Well, Wesley is here,” Gem points out. “I’d hate having to disturb him, though…”

“Wait, I’ve got this.” 

Opening her box of biscuits, Pearl takes one out and holds it over Wesley’s nose. After a few seconds, Wesley’s nose twitches. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, and he lifts his head groggily, revealing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I smell something… tasty…” Wesley says with a deep sniff. “Are those Molly’s biscuits?”

“You bet!” Pearl chirps, tossing him the biscuit, which Wesley only barely manages to catch. “Give these to the boys for me once they’re back, will ya?”

“Only if I don’t eat them all first,” he chuckles, dusting a few crumbs off his sleeve. “Alright, ladies. I assume you’re not just here for a kind donation of biscuits. What’s the issue?”

As Wesley happily consumes his treat with a cup of cold coffee, Gem summarizes the situation — the strange man calling himself “Bdubs,” the bomb threat, the childish word-cross, and the ridiculously easy solution. Of course, Wesley nearly spits out his coffee when she says the word “bomb,” but the shock promptly shifts into confusion as she continues with her explanation.

“You usually don’t see bomb threats solved by kids’ puzzles,” Wesley remarks. “Do you know why he’s threatening you in the first place?”

“I think—” Gem starts, but she catches herself before she mentions the Mycelium Resistance. Leaking this information to the police might attract more trouble for the NHO and herself moving on. “Well, I assume he overheard my investigation into the vandals,” she says instead, which is technically still true. “This might’ve been an attempt to get me out of the house, but I don’t think he’ll get anywhere with our landlord still in there.”

“Isaac would totally smack him if he tried to come in!” Pearl adds, very importantly.

“Well, he did manage to pick the best time to cause trouble,” Wesley says with a tired sigh. “As you can tell, most of us are out and about patrolling factories and warehouses.”

“Sorry for waking you up again,” Gem apologizes. “I’m getting you involved in this mess when you’re already busy doing everything else.”

“No, no, it’s my job to help,” Wesley reassures. “I can relay this information to the inspector when she returns. By the way, what did you do with the defused bomb? If you know where it is, we could get it investigated, if anything else.”

“I have it right here!” Gem says, pulling the package out of her bag, consequently causing Wesley to nearly tumble off his chair. 

“Holy sh—” Wesley chokes. “Just making sure — that’s defused, right?”

“Even if it wasn’t, it’s set to go off in about nine hours, so you don’t have to worry!” Pearl exclaims.

Gem confirms that the sticks are unlit and completely stable, since the timer is no longer connected to it. Relieved, Wesley takes the bomb off her hands, wishing her luck with the rest of the investigation and to come over if she ever needs any more help.

Thus, Gem and Pearl depart from Scotland Yard with one less bomb. 

On their way back home, Gem stops to send a telegram to Logan, outlining the incident as vaguely as possible and telling him to visit her directly if he or Doc wants to hear more about it. After the jumpscare that Bdubs was, she can’t risk any other third parties getting between her and the case. Though, now that the bomb is all dealt with, she can return to investigating the case with the new leads she received from Bdubs. Hopefully, that’s the last of it.

It was not the last of it.

At eight o’clock in the morning, Gem is harshly awoken by Pearl yelling that “the weird short guy is back again.” Hastily pulling on her coat, Gem stumbles downstairs to meet that same much-too-excited face with a cracked tooth. Except this time, he’s covered head-to-toe in… lawn clippings?

“HELLO, DETECTIVE!” he greets, spitting a blade of grass out of his mouth. 

“What is it this time,” she mumbles drowsily.

“I’ve come to deliver your puzzle to the bomb location!” Bdubs exclaims, handing over yet another word-cross, but with a different cartoon animal this time.

“Oh, nice!” Pearl says. “That’s a cute bear!”

“THAT’S A CAT!”

“Wonderful,” Gem says sarcastically, snatching the paper. “You couldn’t have been a little more creative with the type of kids’ puzzle?”

“My budget only allows for word-cross templates to be printed, Detective. Have some understanding.”

Gem looks down at the paper. It’s all hand-drawn, just like last time.

“Why are you all green this time?” Pearl asks in the meanwhile.

“Oh, me?” Bdubs laughs haughtily. “I went around frolicking in the fields!”

“What fields? Oh, wait! You mean the tiny patch of grass in the middle of the road?”

“IT’S A FIELD IF YOU BELIEVE! Where’s your freaking whimsy?”

“I really don’t know how to feel about The Shadow sending a kid to do their bidding,” Gem whispers to Pearl.

Bdubs gasps offendedly. “I am over forty years old! And I can HEAR YOU, BY THE WAY!” 

“Really?” Pearl says. “I’d’ve thought you were fourteen, oldest! You’re about as tall as the Abbot’s horse!”

“I’m as tall as what?!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Gem groans. “Get out of here before I call the police — actually, wait, NO! Stay here!”

“Heck no!” Bdubs yelps, hopping back onto the pavement. “I’m outta here!”

He scampers away, leaving Gem and Pearl with just a piece of paper once more.

“Ugh,” is all Gem is able to say.

“I’ll go pour you some coffee,” Pearl says, patting Gem on the shoulder reassuringly.

Hurriedly, Gem changes into her day clothes, downs a cup of coffee, and solves the puzzle. This time, instead of a large public structure, the bomb is located at a specific address a few streets down, so Gem and Pearl instantly set off to disarm it. The address leads them to a building under construction and two familiar faces.

“Hey, Detective!” Kerrill exclaims as Gem approaches the construction site. “Still lookin’ for sulfur?”

“Not quite,” Gem says with a small laugh, reminded of this case’s strange beginnings. “More like a cat.”

“Sorry, most cats avoid the loud noise around here,” Lehmann says with a shrug. “Maybe try the next street over.”

“She means this cat!” Pearl exclaims, holding up the word-cross. “Have you seen any papers or packages with this drawing?”

The two construction workers lean over to inspect the drawing, mumbling amongst themselves for a few seconds before Lehmann snaps his fingers.

“I saw it on the scaffolding!” he exclaims. “It was on someone’s lunch!”

“Great!” Gem says with a smile to hide her bewilderment. He’s hiding the bomb in lunch, now? “Where can we find it?”

Lehmann offers to take them to where he last saw it, leading the girls through the construction site and dangerously-dangling bricks in the air. While walking, a factory pipe blows a puff of smoke straight into Gem’s face, staining her cheeks and glasses with soot.

“Ugh, how do you keep this stuff off your face?” Gem groans, gingerly wiping the soot off with her handkerchief.

“We don’t,” Lehmann says, and he pulls out a mucked-up rag from his overalls to prove his point.

“Looks like it’s a lot worse for those workers inside,” Pearl observes while looking through the foggy factory window. “I hope they get their breaks soon.”

After climbing up the stairs, Lehmann shows them a suspended plank of wood with a single lunch pail balanced on top of it. As he said, there is a drawing of a cartoon cat plastered over the top of the pail, hiding its contents.

“Not sure why you’re looking for this thing, but good luck!” Lehmann salutes. “I’ll be down there if you need me again.”

Once Gem hears Lehmann shut the door, she grabs the pail and rips the drawing off the top, revealing the same package as yesterday: bombs strapped to a disassembled pocket watch. Once again, the timer is set to detonate ten hours later. However, there is a new addition — a single note that says, See you tomorrow, Detective.

“This is so stupid!” Gem groans, tearing the timer out. “Is this going to be a regular thing? What’s even the point? Are they trying to threaten the mayor or give me a wild goose chase?”

“I wonder what would drive someone to such extreme measures,” Pearl mutters thoughtfully.

“I don’t think there’s anything that justifies bombs!” Gem exclaims. She lifts the package over her head in preparation to throw it into her bag before realizing how terrible of an idea that is and opting to place it in gently instead. “Urgh. Let’s just take this to Wesley.”

Just like yesterday, Scotland Yard is a lot emptier than usual — but this time, Wesley isn’t on site. Instead, there are two other cops, though one is already occupied with speaking to another person.

It seems like Florence had spread word of the situation to her subordinates, as when Gem approaches the cop, he offers her a knowing nod and asks, “Any other news on the case from yesterday?”

“Yes, actually.” Gem pulls the package out from her bag and hands it to him. “It came with a note attached that said ‘see you tomorrow.’ I suspect this’ll be a regular occurrence.”

“Did you manage to catch the one delivering these letters?” 

“No, he ran away. I doubt he’ll be coming in person to deliver them anymore. But if you see anyone running around in factories installing bombs, that should be the culprit.”

“Alright. I will relay this information to the chief inspector. On our side, we also investigated the package.” The cop reaches over to open a drawer, pulling out an envelope. “She wanted you to have this report on the findings.”

“Thank you!” Gem says. “This’ll help a lot. If you don’t mind, I’ll be off to review them!”

He tips his hat. “You stay safe, Miss Tasey.”

As Gem walks towards the exit, she notices the other person eyeing her strangely and subsequently whipping out a notepad. She turns away hurriedly and shuffles outside.

Back at her flat, Gem carefully reads through the report on the bombs. The cops didn’t find anything unusual about them, but they did manage to identify the type of bomb: TNT. As opposed to something like dynamite, TNT is supposed to be incredibly stable in absence of a primary explosion. That’s something new she’s learned. She always knew the two bombs were different, but she had regarded them as similar enough. Looks like that isn’t the case.

In addition to the bombs, there is an extra segment on the search for “Bdubs” in the criminal records. Unsurprisingly, nothing turned up. 

Gem adds the report to her growing board of clues. She’s on the right track. With a bit more digging around, she’ll be making progress in no time. Granted the bomb threats remain as her only distraction…

The next morning, Gem receives a rude wake-up.

“GEM, LOOK!” Isaac shouts, jolting Gem out of bed. Before she even has a chance to sit up, he tosses a newspaper into her chest. “Read this! Now!”

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Gem fumbles around for her glasses and shoves them on. Instantly, the bolded header is like a slap to the face: BOMBS SPOTTED AROUND LONDON!

“WHAT?” Gem shrieks, jumping to her feet.

“What’s going on?” Isaac demands worriedly. “What kind of case are you on?”

“How do you—” Oh, no. Did her case get leaked?!

Gem scans through the paper with considerable haste, searching for where she’s mentioned.

London is in danger! Just yesterday, a bomb was handed to the police by a red-haired woman, who is supposedly a local private eye. This doesn’t seem like the first instance of these bombs, and it definitely won’t be the last!

Gem clenches the paper so hard it creates wrinkles in the pages. It must’ve been that person talking to the other cop! That was definitely a reporter!

When Chief Inspector Florence Simmons was questioned, she stated that there is nothing to worry about, and that the situation was under control. However, she has not provided any details about the bombs, but she has agreed to hold a press conference after considerable pressure from the public.

“Damn it!” she curses, throwing the paper onto the ground. “I was being too careless!”

“GEM!” Pearl bursts in. “Did you invite all of those people over?”

“What people?”

“All those people waiting outside our flat!”

“The — WHAT?!”

Stumbling out of her room, Gem bolts to the window and looks down to see a mass of people gathered downstairs, some with clipboards and notepads, and others with cameras. One of them spots her head through the window and points up, causing the rest of the crowd to start calling out for her and swarming to the door.

This is her worst nightmare. Her name wasn’t even on the paper, but they’ve already found her! How is she going to deal with all of these reporters? There’s no way she’ll be able to leave the house to defuse the bomb!

“WAIT!” Gem exclaims. “The bomb! The puzzle! Did someone get ahold of his bomb already?!”

“No, no, he left his word-cross in the mail this time!” Pearl reassures, pointing to an envelope on the table. “I managed to grab it before someone thought of looking through it!”

Gem sighs with relief and opens the envelope, pulling out a folded piece of paper. There’s a note scrawled on it in messy handwriting that reads, After you threatened to call the police on me, I can’t show my face anymore! I hope you can solve the puzzle without my whimsical motivation!!

She rolls her eyes.

As usual, Gem solves the puzzle (this time with a cartoon… armadillo?), which leads to another address in the city. Now comes the hardest part: actually leaving the house. 

“Isaac, do we have some sort of secret back door?” Gem asks, exasperated. 

“Not that I know of,” Isaac replies dejectedly. “How much time do you have to defuse the bomb?”

“Ten hours, but I’d prefer to do it now.”

Pearl, who has been completely silent through the duration of Gem’s puzzle-solving, suddenly gasps excitedly. “Don’t worry! I have a way for you to get through the crowd!”

“What, you know a guy who can distract everyone?” Gem asks wryly.

“Yeah.” Pearl points her thumbs at her chest. “Me.”

Without warning, Pearl charges to the window and shoves it open, leaning out and waving to the crowd. “HEY, LOOK HERE! I’ll answer all your questions!”

Miraculously, like moths to a lamp, all the reporters scramble to the area under the window, leaving the exit clear. Gem gives Pearl a determined nod, grabs her bag and umbrella, and dashes out the door. As she climbs onto the nearest carriage, Gem glances up at the window and catches a wink from Pearl. 

“Oh, Pearl, what would I ever do without you,” Gem says with a chuckle. 

This time, the puzzle’s address leads her to a warehouse, and she has to ask a young girl inside if she’s seen the cartoon armadillo.

“I saw one at the locker!” the girl says, pointing to a row of lockers at the end of the room. “But it was too tall for me to reach. If there’s anything cool inside, please tell me!”

Gem thanks the girl, who then returns to sewing clothes.

The next steps are routine: Gem finds the bomb, rips the timer apart, places it in her bag, and turns it over to a cop (after sneaking past a horde of reporters to enter through the back door. She suspects these both will become a part of the routine). However, this insanity has gone too far for her to keep it to herself. The instant Gem makes it out of Scotland Yard, she makes a beeline for the city hall.

When she enters the building, the first thing she sees is X pacing around the lobby. 

“X!” Gem shouts.

X doesn’t respond and continues pacing.

“Mr. X!”

He continues pacing.

“SULLIVAN XIMENES!” Gem exclaims.

The full name finally catches X’s attention, and he finally snaps up towards Gem’s voice. “Ah! Gem! I’m really sorry — I was so caught up in my thoughts, and…”

“It’s fine; I understand completely,” Gem says, reaching over and patting him on the back. It looks like X is frazzled by everything happening as well. 

Gem gives X a moment to adjust his tie and collect his bearings (letting out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes, the likes) before they head into his office together.

“I assume this is about the situation in the newspapers,” X says after closing the door. “It looks terrible.”

“It really was,” Gem sighs, slumping into her chair. “I couldn’t even leave the house today without Pearl distracting all the people waiting outside.”

“Is that so? Goodness me…” X’s voice trails off as he wrings his hands nervously. “I’m so sorry I roped you into this situation. You really don’t have to keep investigating. I can look into the rest myself from this point on.”

“No, no,” Gem shakes her head, “I started this, and I’m going to finish it. This is my case as much as it’s yours. Plus, you look like you’re only getting twenty minutes of sleep.”

X chuckles weakly as he takes a seat. “Thirty minutes, actually. But I could honestly say the same for you, Miss Detective.”

“Honestly, I just like to sleep in,” Gem says with a cheeky smile. “But don’t worry about it. This is just a part of the job.”

“I suppose that’s true — you are the expert.” X laughs again, this time much more genuine. “I don’t think I would’ve managed to come this far if I had investigated myself. Heck, I’d say you’re handling the situation incredibly well for someone who was put on full blast in the papers.”

“Yeah, about that.” Gem blows an irritated puff of air out of her mouth. “I don’t know if I should just let the police handle the situation with what little they actually know, or if we should just come clean to the public…”

“Gosh, I wish we could,” X slumps over his desk, pressing his temples. “It would make things a lot easier, but after everything that’s on the news, the mayor is being even more dodgy. He’s hardly letting any information escape to the public. I might even be fired if he knew I was talking to you!”

“Why, though?” Gem asks, leaning forward interrogatively. “Why is he avoiding all this? What good will it do for him? Wouldn’t it boost his image if he actually addressed the issues surrounding his government? Maybe it would even get our culprit to step down!”

“It’s…” X clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “You’re completely right, Gem. That’s also what I tried to tell him, but… how do I say this?” X lowers his hands and folds them on his desk. “Despite the controversy surrounding him, I believe that Mayor Goodwin is a relatively decent man behind all the flashy antics. On a personal level, he has been nothing but kind to me and other workers, but he’s… well, let’s just say, a bit out of touch.”

“How so? He’s the mayor — shouldn’t he know what’s happening in the city?”

“He receives a diluted version of city events from the nobles in his council. They know exactly what they’re doing, telling him that more factories will benefit the economy, and that the commoners know nothing about what’s actually right for them. Mayor Goodwin takes their word as absolute and anything else as an attack.” X lets out a breath from his nose and fidgets with his thumbs. “To them, my words mean nothing. I don’t even count as a person in their bubble.” 

“I see…” Gem says. “So he’s really stuck in his little circle of terrible advisors. There isn’t any easy way to make him see the truth…”

Unless you threaten him with arson and bombs, she thinks. 

It’s frightening to think about how The Shadow’s motives become a lot more understandable after considering the mayor’s utter ignorance. The culprit must’ve been pushed to their limits of frustration after years of trying to get through to him. 

“…But whatever way it is, terrorizing the public and threatening domestic terrorism can’t be the only way,” she finishes. 

After a bit more catching up and Gem informing X about the elusive “Bdubs,” Gem wraps up the conversation with a promise to make a proper breakthrough within the next few days. The deadline for the mayor’s speech is coming up, and she’ll need to work extra hard if she wants to find the Mycelium Resistance in time. 

When Gem makes it back to her flat, the crowd has thankfully dissipated. Curiously, there is another message in the mail, which she opens up to find a telegram from Logan! 

Sorry for not responding to your message earlier, it reads. The NHO just got caught up in a big situation. Don’t worry about us, though; we’re dealing with it today. In the meantime, always feel free to message us if you need help on your searches.

A situation…? That’s a bit worrying. Has the news of the bombs reached the union as well? In that case, she’ll hold off updating them for the time being.

Opening the door, Gem prepares to climb up the stairs, but she pauses after taking another glance at the mailbox. She stares at it for a few seconds, takes a deep breath, and pulls out her notepad and pen. She then proceeds to aggressively write a note addressed to Bdubs:

Dear Mr. Cracked Tooth,

I’m sick of your crap. If you’re going to keep sending me these bomb puzzles, can you at least be less smug about it?! I’m already dealing with so much!

Best wishes,

A very tired detective

Then, Gem rips the page out of her notebook and stuffs it in the mailbox for Bdubs to find tomorrow. That’ll teach him.

For the first time in the last few days, Gem wakes up naturally. That would have been a good thing on any other day, but she quickly realizes that this means both Pearl and Isaac didn’t wake her up to receive a letter or chase out reporters.

“Pearl?!” she calls, scrambling out of her bed. “Isaac?”

There’s no response. As panic begins to rise in Gem’s chest, she throws on her clothes and steps out into the main room. It’s empty.

“PEARL!” she shouts louder. “ISAAC! Where are you?!”

They’re not here. They’re not in the house! There’s still breakfast on the table, and nobody is eating it! Did the people outside finally break down the door and kidnap her friends? Is Bdubs escalating the threats even further by ransoming her? Is this the price she has to pay for taking on such a big case that was so clearly out of her scope? What does she do now? 

In her rush, Gem nearly knocks the plates off the table while sprinting to the door, which she thankfully catches in time. However, a piece of paper slips out from under a plate and slowly drifts to the floor. Gem kneels down to pick it up, reading:

Sorry, I can’t be around for today’s defusing! I’ve got a job to do. Hopefully, the breakfast makes up for it!

“Huh?” Gem glances at the plates on the table. The food is untouched — something she hadn’t noticed. “Did Pearl…”

“Oh, Gem, you’re awake!” Isaac exclaims as he enters the room with a bundle of newspapers. 

“Isaac!” Gem squeaks. “Where were you?”

“Getting these papers. I figured you should probably read some of these.” He tosses a paper to her, and Gem drops it in surprise. “The things they’re saying aren’t very pretty.”

Breathing an internal sigh of relief that her two friends are safe, Gem picks up the paper and opens it, only for her anxiety to be replaced by a burning rage the moment she reads the front page. 

“The NHO leader and the mayor have always been rivals,” Gem quotes the paper, appalled. “Are the bombs just a way for the NHO to get back at the mayor for not listening to their demands? What is this nonsense?! Rivals? That’s utterly absurd!”

“Ah, yup, that paper,” Isaac sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Some of them just want to play off the mass panic.”

“You tell me!” Gem huffs. “I can’t believe this! I’ve always hated yellow journalism, but now it’s personal!”

“Here, have this one instead,” Isaac says, handing her a different paper. “London Recapsulate is typically reliable.”

With a frustrated exhale, Gem takes the paper and scans through the article. 

Chief Inspector Florence Simmons held a press conference to address the bomb threats, assuring the people of London that they had it all under control, but the people are still uneasy. Many reporters attempted to find the private detective who was responsible for handing in the bomb, but none have managed to speak to her yet. 

“Thanks, Pearl,” Gem mutters. “I would’ve been trampled to the ground if it weren’t for that distraction.”

With the rising tension in the city, there is a widespread speculation that the National Humanitarian Organization (NHO) is behind these threats due to their previous outspoken opposition against the mayor’s decisions. The leader, Meinke Ziegenbein, is currently being investigated by the police force.

Mayor Goodwin has not spoken about the situation despite pleas from the public to address it.

“It’s like the protest all over again,” says Dr. Ziegenbein, when interviewed. “All fruitless. He won’t listen to us.”

So it seems the exaggerated news from the previous paper was telling a part of the truth. It’s already bad enough that the bomb threats are affecting her search, but the NHO is being pulled into the rumors as well. Doc’s efforts to reach the mayor have already been stopped once with the factory vandalism, and the accusations of bomb threats will make his chances worse. She can’t let this continue.

“By the way, Pearl managed to chase away those reporters, but someone stayed after the crowd left,” Isaac informs. “I think he wants to see you.”

“Isaac, that’s the bomb guy,” Gem says.

“Ooh, gotcha. I’ll hit him on the head with a pan next time. He’s the tall guy with glasses, right?”

“What? Tall guy with glasses?” That can’t be Bdubs. Gem’s mind races for a person to match that description, until she realizes— “Wait, no! That’s Logan! He’s my friend. The bomb guy is the short one!”

“Oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Isaac looks down at the pile of papers in his hands and pulls out an envelope. “So that’s why this was already in the mail when he came… Yeah, I wasn’t sure, so I just made him stand outside.”

“Oh my gosh, how long have I kept him waiting?!” Gem exclaims. “Let him in!”

Isaac ducks back downstairs, and a few seconds later, he returns with Logan following behind him.

“So this is the great detective Gem Tasey’s home?” Logan asks with a chuckle as he steps into the room, his cane clacking lightly against the wood tiles.

“Hello!” Gem says as she discreetly kicks a pile of papers under the couch. “Sorry for making you wait! I didn’t know you were coming!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Logan says, waving his hand with a smile. “I should be sorry for coming without telling you. I figured I’d pay you a visit after seeing those newspapers.”

“Well, you showed up at just the right time!” Gem says. “My friend Pearl usually accompanies me with this stuff, but she’s out on a job today. How would you like to take her place?”

Logan raises his eyebrows in amusement. “You mean I get to be the Watson to your Holmes for a few hours? Count me in!”

“Aww you flatter me,” Gem replies bashfully. “I’m not as great as any fictional detective yet! But yes, of course!”

“In that case, I’ll leave you to it,” Isaac remarks, placing the envelope on the table. “Call me over if you need anything!”

As Isaac heads back downstairs, Gem motions Logan over to the table and opens the envelope. 

“What’s that for?” Logan asks.

“It’s the clue to the bomb’s location.” Gem pulls out a folded sheet of paper and another small slip of paper. “Oh, this is new!” She unfolds it and starts reading from the top:

Dear Very Tired Detective,

Oh, it’s just a message from Bdubs. Gem pre-rolls her eyes and braces for the contents of the message.

Sorry for the smugness, ma’am. Here’s your puzzle, no extra comment.

“Huh,” Gem says. “I didn’t expect him to actually be nice about it.”

“The one sending the bombs?” Logan asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What happened?”

“I basically wrote him a note in a frustrated frenzy telling him that I was sick of his smugness and that he should cut it out.”

“I… would’ve never expected someone sending bomb threats to be so respectful of your wishes. This seems like an interesting person.”

“‘Interesting’ isn’t enough to describe him! You’ll never guess what he makes me do to find those bombs!”

“Heh, what’s he making you do? Solve an anagram?”

“Close.” Gem pulls the paper out of the envelope and unfolds it, revealing the word-cross with a cartoon kangaroo on it.

Logan’s jaw drops. “You’re joking! That looks like something you’d give a child to solve!”

“I know, right?!” Gem exclaims. “No, seriously, look.” She points to the clock on the wall. “Watch the time. I’ll finish this in five minutes.”

She ends up finishing it in three, in between bites of egg that Pearl made, while Logan watches in awe.

“The match factory on Newman street!” Gem holds up the paper triumphantly. 

“You weren’t lying,” Logan says, staring at the completed puzzle. “That really was incredible. Say, have you ever considered becoming a professional word-cross solver?”

“That’s what Pearl also said,” Gem snorts. 

“Really now? Looks like I’m doing a great job as her substitute, then!”

“Eh, you could be a bit better. By now, she’d be dragging me out the door!”

“What are we waiting for?” Logan winks and starts down the stairs. “Last one to the carriage is a rotten egg!”

“Hey — not fair!” Gem protests, scurrying to grab her hat and bag. “You can’t just say that with a head start!”

It takes Gem a few seconds to collect everything, and by that time, Logan has disappeared down the staircase. After she hastily descends the stairs and bursts out of the building, she finds that Logan is already halfway down the block, speed-walking to the carriage at the end of the street. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” she teases, sprinting after him.

Upon hearing her voice, Logan picks up speed, but Gem is faster. She manages to catch up to him right as he prepares to climb onto the carriage, and both of them land on the seat at the same time.

“Well done, Gem!” Logan says, slow-clapping. “You’ve proven yourself worthy in a race against me!”

“That doesn’t count for much!” Gem says through gigglish pants. “You were hardly even running!”

Logan only smiles sheepishly.

Despite the tense reason for their meeting, Gem and Logan’s conversation on the ride to the factory is rather pleasant. For a moment, Gem’s focus is shifted away from the stress of her case, and instead, she chats with Logan about the weather, parks, and good places to get hot chocolate. It reminds her of her regular life again — strolling the streets with Pearl and occasionally Isaac, staring longingly at the pretty hats and dresses in store windows, feeding stray animals, the likes… Of course, Gem had always wished to pick up a big case ever since becoming a detective, but now that she’s involved in a mystery as big as this, she has barely been able to make time for herself. That’s the sacrifice a private eye has to make, she supposes, but she can’t wait to return to those calming days once this case has been cracked open.

“What do you think you’ll do after this whole deal is over?” she asks Logan. “Continue with the union stuff?”

“Most definitely,” Logan says with a nod. “But I think I’ll treat myself and the other co-founders to a nice dinner first. You’re invited, too,” he adds with a grin and a light elbow nudge.

“Only if you’re okay with making room for another,” Gem replies with a laugh. “Knowing Pearl, she’ll find some way to worm her way in!”

“Great! The more the merrier. I’ll be looking forward to actually meeting your friend when she’s not totally wasted.”

“We’ll just have to see!”

The carriage rolls to a stop at their destination, and the two exit onto the street. 

“What are we looking for, chief?” Logan asks, scanning the building up and down.

“A kangaroo,” Gem replies, pointing to the drawing on the word-cross. 

“Is that a kangaroo?” Logan tilts his head to look at the creature. “It looks more like a rabbit to me.”

“…Well, we’re looking for an ambiguously long-eared animal, I suppose,” Gem corrects herself.

The kangaroo-rabbit is a bit more difficult to find this time. The two ask the workers inside the factory for help, but none of them remember seeing it, so Gem spends about an hour searching inside the factory herself. However, she turns up with nothing in the end. Then, Logan suggests looking outside the factory, and that’s when they find it: a cartoon animal on top of a discarded delivery package. 

Gem lifts the bomb out of the box and, much to Logan’s astonishment, rips the timer off the bombs with such vitriol that it causes him to jump. 

“That was… brave,” Logan says with a gulp. “You’re not scared of that thing blowing up?”

“I know it won’t,” Gem says, placing the disassembled bomb parts in her bag, which shocks Logan further. “These bombs are set to activate when the hour hand sparks at a certain clock quadrant, and it gives me about ten hours each time.”

“That sounds like some very clever mechanics,” Logan notes, rubbing his chin. “I had honestly expected the bomb to be on a long fuse with how ridiculously simple the word-cross was.”

“Ugh, I’m thinking that exactly!” Gem rolls her eyes. “I just don’t get it. The culprit is clearly smart if they know how to construct such an accurate timer, so why are they making some whimsy-obsessed short guy to deliver me children’s puzzles? Why make me defuse all of them instead of just bombing the places directly or threatening the mayor instead?”

“Maybe it’s to put pressure on you?”

“With ten hour countdowns? I think whoever’s behind this might just be really bad at being a criminal! I can’t tell if this is some calculated plan for me to fall exactly into their trap, or if this is just someone choosing their next plan of action by throwing darts and seeing which idea it lands on! Why threaten the mayor if they can’t even figure out how to raise the stakes? What’s the point?”  

Gem takes a deep breath as Logan places a steady hand on her shoulder. Then, adjusting her glasses, she says, “Sorry for ranting. I just find this to be quite insulting to my work as a detective. I’m supposed to be finding the Mycelium Resistance, not going on a scavenger hunt for bombs or sneaking out of my own house to do my job like what happened yesterday! I wouldn’t be surprised if the press is waiting at Scotland Yard to catch me again. This whole thing, frankly, is just ridiculous!”

“Is there any way I can help?” Logan asks softly. 

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Gem says while shaking her head. “It’s just something I have to deal with. Unless there’s a way you can magically disguise me from all those reporters.”

“Well…” Logan starts. “Does it have to be magic?”

Raising an eyebrow, Gem asks, “What, you have a way to get me through?”

Logan shrugs. “I mean, I do have a large coat…”

“Sorry, excuse me, please make way for Sir Cholmondeley!” Logan exclaims, ushering a small figure in a large coat through a group of reporters. “He has important business with the police!” 

Beneath that coat, Gem strides forward confidently with a cane two sizes too large.

“Who are you, and do you have any relations to the bomb case?” a reporter cuts in.

“What bombs? Back in my day, there were no bombs!” Gem tries her best to channel the energy of a snobby old man’s voice, and then proceeds to strut forward without any other answer. “Am I acting enough like a rich old man?” she whispers to Logan.

“Heck if I know,” Logan whispers back. “I’m the wrong guy to ask!”

Once they reach the front, three officers block their path, but after Gem opens the coat a sliver to show her face, they nod and open the door for her and Logan. As soon as the door shuts behind them, the two breathe a sigh of relief, and Gem crawls out of the coat.

“Gem?” Wesley asks, standing up from the counter. “I thought you were some rich old man!”

“Really, now!” she says, exhilarated. “I can’t believe that actually worked!”

“Me, neither!” Logan exclaims. “I was mostly joking!”

“What?”

“Hey, Wesley, I’m sorry about the confusion,” Gem giggles as she hands the disassembled bomb to the surprised cop. “I had my friend here disguise me to get past that crowd at the front.”

“I see,” Wesley chuckles. “Chief Inspector Simmons asked one of the boys to guard the back door in case you came through there, but this works just fine.”

“Well, keep it guarded, because that’s how I’ll be making my departure! I am not shoving through that crowd again!”

Waving goodbye to Wesley, Gem and Logan exit the building and sneak back out onto the streets with considerable ease. They make it back to Gem’s flat three hours after they initially set out, and by now, the sun is beginning to make its late-afternoon descent. 

“Sorry that took up so much of your time,” Gem says, hanging up her hat and umbrella as Logan helps set her bag next to the couch. “Would you like some tea for your troubles?”

“I would love to, but I have to get back to the union,” Logan declines politely. “However, I’d be happy to help if you need me again.”

“Right, of course! Speaking of which, have there been any updates with the NHO? I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, don’t worry, You deserve to know a little, after all you’ve had to deal with.” Logan taps his cane thoughtfully for a few seconds. “We were trying to get in contact with the Mycelium leader for some answers,” he starts, “but he’s hard to track even for us, since he’s usually the one contacting our group. Then, uh, that whole deal went down. Doc’s under a lot of fire right now. There’s a big crowd that’s convinced the NHO is behind these threats.” 

“Yeah, I just read about that this morning,” Gem remarks. “It’s completely despicable! Those sensationalists do nothing but cause more panic!”

“It is frustrating, but there’s not much we can do about it. The police also came to question us, but thanks to your vouch from the chief inspector, they were actually pretty understandable about our situation. They should’ve just held a press conference about an hour ago to clear up the suspicions, so hopefully, that’ll reach the news by tomorrow.”

“They were having a conference, and you chose to accompany me?” Gem asks, conflicted on whether to feel happy or worried. “Isn’t that more important?”

“Oh, I was never that great with public speaking,” Logan chuckles nervously. “Doc told us that he’d take care of it. He’s the front man, anyway.”

“I see… I’m still sorry you have to be involved like this. It is partially my fault for letting that reporter see me with the bomb.”

“No need to apologize. It’s not your fault the public tends to get worked up over reasonable rumors.”

Gem shuffles in her place. She would protest that sentiment, but she would rather not bring down the mood more than it already is.

“Well… how are the other leaders doing?” she asks instead. “You and Doc seem to be handling it pretty well.”

Logan laughs and shakes his head. “Believe me, we’re all very frazzled. Angus has taken time off his shop to help out the union. Even Chester, who wasn’t there initially, is feeling the pressure. But he still offered to ask around for any signs of the leader. We can never thank him enough for his efforts. He’s always out and about; I don’t know how he does it.”

“Chester Booker, huh?” Gem says. “I’d love to meet him someday.”

“I think you two would get along,” Logan says with a grin. “You both are very passionate about what you do.”

“Is that so? Well, you can introduce us over that dinner you were talking about!”

“It’s a deal!” Logan tips his head as he turns to the stairs. “Anywho, I’ll be on my way. If there’s any updates on the bombs, or if you need help with a puzzle, I’m just a call away. Good luck with your search!”

“You, too!” Gem waves. “See you next time!”

With a wink, Logan descends the stairs, disappearing past the railing. Gem hears the door open and close, leaving her alone once more.

“I guess it’s just you and me again, huh, bud?” Gem says, whirling around to her clues board. “Alright,” she cracks her knuckles, “let’s get some work done.”

It’s hard work, investigating a mystery with so little leads, but at least she has Pearl and Logan to keep her sane through it. With a rejuvenated motivation to crack the case, Gem returns to reviewing her clues.

Chapter Text

“Goooooood morning!” Mayor Goodwin announces, bursting into the office with fanfare.

“Agh!” X squeaks, nearly dropping his coffee. “Good morning, Mayor Goodwin!”

“Morning,” Aster says, glancing up from his paper. 

“Why so tired?” the mayor asks, wheeling over to his secretary and bodyguard. “You two look like you’ve got one foot in the grave!”

“I’ve been looking into the recent bomb threats,” X says, hurriedly, “and frankly, sir, it’s a massacre out there. The people are desperate for any response from you. Maybe you should—”

“No need to worry about that, Mr. Ximenes!” the mayor assures, dismissively patting X on the back a few times. “My advisors said the public eats up this drama stuff and to just let it die down later. We can’t stoke the fire when my speech is so soon!”

“But, sir—”

“Besides, what do you know about politics?” he says with the sincerest of smiles. “You’re just a secretary!”

X sighs.

Meanwhile, Aster flips through the newspaper carefully. Between the bombs and public panic, there is another object of interest in the news.

Despite being the one turned in the bombs, the red-haired detective has not yet been contacted, an article reads. What could possibly be the reason behind these threats?

Curious. It seems like he’s not alone.

Unlike the previous few days, Gem didn’t receive a letter from Bdubs this morning. Maybe he ran out of supplies. Maybe he gave up. Or maybe he didn’t know how to draw any more animals. Regardless, that’s three more hours in her day to actually do something about her investigation. So, with her free time, Gem dedicates herself to combing through newspapers for anything she might have missed. 

Terrible, exaggerated stories of public opinions? Check. Interviews with the NHO? Check. Obligatory mention of herself? Check. Strange new segment written in meaningless gibberish? Wait a second… 

Didn’t Logan mention something about the NHO sending codes through newspapers? This could be a secret means of communication! Maybe the NHO is trying to signal something to its members. But why? They’ve been caught up with the press these past few days and not very active on the union front. Besides, Logan brought up the Hermiton Herald. This is a completely different paper — The Postal Express. Is there a possibility that this isn’t the NHO’s doing, but somebody else? Maybe even her culprit…?

Gem drums her fingers against the table restlessly. She’s grasping at straws. She has no reason to believe that the NHO isn’t still active amidst the press troubles, or that they don’t use other papers to send messages. Still… if there is a chance that her hunch is right and it’ll lead her closer to the Shadow, she’ll have to try it. Every piece of information she doesn’t know will hurt the case.

“Do we have any old newspaper issues?” Gem asks as Isaac enters the room with a tray of tea.

“Yeah, Pearl keeps a bunch for scrapbooking in her room,” Isaac replies, setting down the tray. “What do you need them for?”

“Just to read something. Speaking of Pearl, where did she go? She just left without saying anything.”

“She had plans to bake a cake with someone, I think?”

“Aw, really? That sounds much nicer than what I’m doing…” Sighing, Gem takes a sip of tea before standing up. “Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me taking a look. I’ll be back in a second.”

Gem gathers all the newspapers from the last two months and spreads them out on the table, scanning for any instance of an encoded message. Curiously enough, she manages to find two consistent instances of codes. As expected, there are sparse segments of gibberish in the Hermiton Herald, but what surprises her is the consistent string of codes in The Postal Express, all throughout the month. One of them has been encoded in Atbash, but when she decodes the passages, it turns out the alphabet has also been shifted. Perhaps she needs a keyword… but how will she get it?

Besides that, many of the codes aren’t even in English, but in other languages including Greek, Arabic, Cyrillic, and even numbers. Even moreso, these codes started around two months ago — exactly when the factory vandals began. She sips her tea with considerable suspicion. This doesn’t seem like the NHO’s work. Perhaps it’s time to confirm that with an NHO member directly.

Thus, Gem makes a quick stop at the nearest telegraph station and sends Logan a telegram to meet her at her flat. Not even fifteen minutes after she returns home, she hears a knock at the door and opens it to the face of her friend. 

“Good afternoon!” she greets cheerily, inviting him in. “I need you to help me confirm something.”

“Oh?” Logan says. “How can I help?”

Dragging Logan over to the main room, Gem gestures towards the table covered in newspapers. “You talked about the NHO sending codes through the Hermiton Herald, right? Well, I found another newspaper housing completely different codes.”

“Well, we sometimes use other newspapers to send codes,” Logan informs. 

“Yes, I considered that, but it’s just a little strange,” Gem elaborates, pacing around the table, “that these codes on The Postal Express are much more frequent than the ones on the Hermiton Herald, the supposed ‘main paper’ — in fact, the codes have been in almost every single issue from the past two months. It doesn’t match up with the NHO’s usage of secret codes for special plans or how Doc’s been busy dealing with the press for the past few days. What’s even more suspicious is that the encoded messages on The Postal Express began around the time that factories and warehouses were being tampered with.”

“So, you’re suggesting that… your culprit is the one sending these codes?”

“Precisely.”

“It seems like you’ve got it all figured out,” Logan says with a short laugh. “Why’d you call me, then?”

“I am looking way too deep into anything I get my hands on, so this could just be me making assumptions,” Gem replies. “I don’t know the inner workings of the NHO. Maybe they just started using The Postal Express for different messages that I don’t know about! So, I’d like you to tell me if I’m on the right track, or if I’ve completely missed the mark.”

“In that case, your deduction is on point,” Logan says, smiling. “As far as I know, the secret codes are quite infrequent.”

“Hahaha, yes! I knew it!” Gem exclaims. “Okay, okay, do you have any idea about how to crack the messages? Does it look similar to the code NHO uses?”

“That, I’m stumped on,” Logan shrugs. “The system the NHO uses is the Vigenère cipher, where the keyword is included in the previous passage.”

“Oh, really, now!” Gem picks up the paper and scans the previous passage — no doubt, it seems to be a “daily riddle.” Six letters it contains; remove one letter, and twelve remain. What is it? That’s easy. The word “dozens!” Then, using the keyword, she decodes the rest of the message and receives… the address of the construction site right behind Molly’s shop! “It worked!” 

“That’s great!” Logan exclaims. “We can work together to solve the rest of the codes!”

“Unfortunately, the furthest we’d be able to get for the rest is just the keywords,” Gem says with a tired sigh. “All the other passages are in different languages. I mean, there’s probably books in the library that could help me translate these, but cracking the codes while I’m not familiar with the language would take far too long. There’s no way I can get all of that done with the Mayor’s speech in two days.”

“Ah… that’s a shame.” 

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t get help! Do you know anyone who knows how to read some of these languages?”

“I know the leader of the Mycelium Resistance can at least read a few of them, but I think it’s safe to say he’s out of the question.”

“Back to square one…”

She has no idea where to find someone who can understand all those languages, but maybe X might have some records on translators or easy translation guides. It’s about time she pays him a visit, anyway.

“Alright, Logan,” Gem says, shuffling all the newspapers into a pile. “I know you’re in conflict with the mayor, but how do you feel about coming with me to visit his secretary?”

“The secretary?” Logan frowns. “What business do you have with him?”

“Let’s just say, he wants the mayor to pay attention to the city as much as we do, and he’s willing to provide me with resources to help my investigation.”

“Ah, I see! So you have an ally on the inside!”

“I suppose you can put it that way,” Gem says with a wink.

After picking up all the newspapers and stuffing them into Gem’s bag, the two depart for X’s flat (she nearly starts off towards the city hall before remembering that today is supposed to be his day off and subsequently correcting her course). Gem gives his door three quick knocks, and a few seconds later, X opens the door with pleasant surprise.

“Oh, hello, Gem!” he greets, still looking as tired as the other day. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Logan!” Gem replies, motioning over to the other man. “He’s helping me with the case! He’s a part of — uh, wait, actually…”

“It’s alright,” Logan says, stepping forward. “Logan Pathos,” he says while shaking X’s hand. “Co-founder of the NHO.”

“The NHO!” X’s eyebrows raise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pathos. Come in, come in, both of you. Have some tea!”

As Gem steps into X’s flat, she takes off her hat to hang it on the coat rack, only to find another familiar-looking bag hanging over it — the bag of a certain woman she lives with…

“Oh, hey, Gem!” Pearl exclaims, head popping out from the kitchen. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“You—” Gem gawks. “Why are you here?! You know the mayor’s secretary?”

“He’s the mayor’s secretary?” Pearl gasps. “Ev!” she exclaims, turning her head back towards the kitchen. “Why didn’t you say your brother was the secretary?”

“‘Cause he’s a big derp, that’s why!” Everett shouts back. 

“He’s so funny, that kid,” Pearl giggles, turning back to Gem. 

“Why are you here if you didn’t know he was the secretary?!” Gem asks, growing increasingly confused.

“I became friends with Everett after he joined my paper craft activity in the library!” Pearl chirps.

“And now we’re making a cake!” Everett chimes in, stepping out from behind Pearl with his hands completely covered in frosting.

“We’re also making friendship bracelets later,” Pearl adds. “Wanna join?”

“After I deal with what I came here for…” Gem sighs. Making friendship bracelets sounds infinitely better than what she’s dealing with at the moment.

“Okay! We’ll just finish the cake in the meantime!”

As Pearl darts back into the kitchen, Logan asks, “Was that your friend from the other day?” 

“Yup, that’s Pearl,” Gem says, taking a seat next to him. “She has a talent for somehow knowing everyone in the city.”

“Have you tried asking her who your culprit is?” X jokes while pouring them both some tea.  

“If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be here,” Gem chuckles. “That being said, I need some help.” Reaching into her bag, she pulls out the newspapers and places it on the table. “Do you know any way to translate these? They’re encoded messages, but they’re in completely different languages.”

“Let’s see…” X picks up the first paper on the stack and scans the message. “Is… is this ancient Greek?”

“Probably,” Gem says with a heavy exhale, picking up her cup. “I might be a detective, but I’m not a multilinguist!”

“In that case, I can look in the archives for a translation document,” X says, placing the paper down. “I’d have to be careful, though… the mayor’s bodyguard has been looking at me strangely whenever I enter the archives.”

Gem sips her tea with considerable suspicion. “The bodyguard again, huh?”

“I wonder what his deal is,” Logan agrees.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Pearl says, entering the room with a tray full of cake slices. “Are they talking about you on the news again?”

“Not this time!” Gem says, quickly moving the papers aside to make room for the cake. “This time, it’s encoded messages written in a bunch of ancient languages.”

“Interesting…” Pearl says while setting down the tray, glancing at one of the papers. “Is that… ancient Sumerian?”

“Do you know how to read it?” Gem says, sipping tea wryly.

“Nope, but I know someone who does!”

“Thought so—” Gem nearly spits out her tea. “Wait, WHAT?”

“Yeah, Joe Hills, the librarian!” Pearl clarifies, nonchalantly picking up a slice of cake as if she hadn’t just dropped a world-shattering piece of information. “He’s an expert in written languages! He can tell you what it says!”

X breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh, wow,” Logan says, raising his eyebrows. “You really do know everyone.”

“Every detective should have one of you,” Gem laughs. “You’re like a private investigator’s toolkit!”

“What can I say?” Pearl says with a mouth full of cake. “It’s only natural when I run around so much!”

During a brief intermission of tea and cake, the group collaborates on cracking the riddles in the passages before the codes. It only takes them about twenty minutes, since the riddles were merely child’s play (or at least, Gem thinks so. The others beg to differ). Somehow, Pearl also manages to teach Everett how to make friendship bracelets in between the riddle-solving. Gem has never met someone who multitasked as well as her.

After they’re finished, Gem sweeps the newspapers back into her bag and stands up. “We’ll be on our way. Thank you for having us and helping with the riddles!”

“It’s my pleasure,” X says with a warm smile. “If you need any further assistance, please let me know! I wish you the best of luck!”

With a nod, Gem looks over to Logan and gestures him over. “Wanna come along?”

“I’d love to,” Logan says, walking over to join the girls. “I want to meet this interesting librarian!”

“Alrighty then, follow me!” Pearl exclaims, throwing the door open. “Shouldn’t be that long of a walk!”

The trip to the library takes about ten minutes. All through the walk there, Gem watches as Pearl and Logan chat it up, asking about each other’s lives and jobs (and hot chocolate. “It’s never too warm for hot chocolate!” “I’m glad you agree. I see how you and Gem are friends!”). Logan is as surprised as Gem to learn about Pearl’s “odd jobs,” but he doesn’t question it. Overall, the two seem to be getting along, which is great news for Gem!

Upon entering the library, the trio is greeted by two people at the reception desk: a man wearing glasses with a glare so bright it obscures both his eyes, and a familiar face — Cleo, the postmaster!

“Hi, Cleo!” Pearl says cheerily. Gem is not surprised that Pearl knows the postmaster personally. “Hi, Joe!”

“Howdy!” the bespectacled man — Joe — returns. 

“Oh, hello!” Cleo says, eyes lighting up. “I see you’ve got some friends—” She points at Gem. “You’re that detective, aren’t you?”

“That’s me!” Gem giggles. “What a coincidence!”

“And we’ve also got…” Cleo moves her finger, landing on Logan. The two lock eyes for a brief moment before her eyes narrow. “YOU!”

Logan jolts and ducks behind Gem. “…Me?”

“Do you two know each other?” Gem asks.

“Yeah, he’s the one who dropped a glass on my shoe at the Old Jungle Pub!” 

“Eh? Oh, uh, I-I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” Logan squeaks. “I swear it wasn’t on purpose—”

Suddenly, Cleo bursts into laughter and waves her hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I don’t really care.”

“Oh. Oh!” Logan breathes a sigh of relief as he steps back out. “Still, I apologize. I was quite careless.”

“Water under the bridge,” Cleo replies with a toothy grin.

Gem stifles a laugh. This is a new side of Logan she hasn’t seen. She’d never expected someone with such a high standing in a respected union would be such a scaredy-cat; though she has to admit, Cleo was quite scary back there. Still, the prospect of a man as tall as Logan hiding behind a short lady like her is quite hilarious.

“Don’t let it get to you, sir,” Joe chuckles. “She likes to scare people sometimes.” Folding his hands on the desk, he continues, “Anyway, how can I help you fine folks today?”

“I hope this isn’t too big of a favor to ask, but Pearl informed me that you knew how to read ancient languages, and I have a few codes here that I need to crack.” Gem pulls out the newspapers from her bag and places them before Joe. “I think they’ve been encoded, so it may look like gibberish at first. I know the one I solved in English, at least, is Atbash-encoded, since the reversed alphabet makes the text look like someone’s cat jumped all over their typewriter, if that makes sense. I managed to crack it with the Vigenère cipher, so maybe we can try that?”

“Let me see…” Pushing up his glasses, Joe slides the papers in front of him and starts inspecting the one on top. “Hey, these are Sumerian pictographs! How was this even printed in the newspaper?”

“Maybe they hand-wrote the messages,” Logan suggests jokingly.

“That’s a lot of dedication, but it would make sense,” Gem says, considering the insane lengths her culprit has gone to thus far.

Joe hums thoughtfully as he continues reading it. “I don’t know why the heck they shifted these pictographs, but according to the keyword you wrote above, I believe this message says… ‘new man match door.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

“New man match…” Gem snaps her fingers in a brilliant moment of realization. “The match factory on Newman! I was just there for my case!”

“Oh, that place?” Joe murmurs, wrinkling his nose. “Surprised it hasn’t been targeted by the vandals yet. I hope it’s next.”

Gem blinks. “Come again?”

 “Oh, this one says ‘padding construction site’ in Greek!” Joe says, pointing at the next newspaper, having completely moved on from his deranged statement. 

“If it’s another location, could it be the construction site we visited on Paddington street?” Pearl offers.

“Y-Yeah!” Gem stutters, taking a moment to recover from what Joe said. “Let’s keep looking!”

Joe reaches for the next paper, but out of nowhere, the lights unexpectedly flicker out, leaving the room significantly darker than before.

“Aw, shoot, was that the breaker again?” Joe sighs. “I should really call someone to fix that… in the meantime, do any of you fellas know how to restart a breaker? My sister usually helps with that, but she’s not here today.”

Pearl glances over at Gem. “Do we know how to?”

“Well,” Gem starts, “Isaac usually takes care of that, but we can try…”

“I can help,” Logan offers, stepping forward. “You can continue to assist Gem.”

“Thank you!” Joe exclaims. “You’re a lifesaver! Cleo, could you show him the breaker?”

“Sure,” Cleo chuckles, standing up. “But next time, no asking for help! Not even from Quinn! You have to learn to do it yourself, dummy!”

“Aww,” Joe complains. “But it’s so hard to figure out!”

Interesting, Gem thinks. Joe appears to have a distinct disdain towards the match factory, not to mention the comment about hoping it gets hit by vandalism, which is concerningly in line with the warehouse-destroying vandal she’s been hunting. Joe isn’t familiar with mechanical devices, which is one of her culprit’s most important traits. Unless he’s doing this to throw her off, he’d have to have an accomplice. Could it be Cleo? She could’ve intentionally hidden information about the letters to cover Joe’s tracks. It’s starting to look possible that these two are partners in crime, but it’s hard to imagine that a librarian and postmaster have this much time to write codes and plant bombs around the city. 

Besides, if he was The Shadow, he’d absolutely know better than to mention it out loud and in front of her face, no less. He especially wouldn’t help her with the codes if he was the culprit. Still, anything is possible. She’ll keep an eye on them, just to be safe.

With Joe and Pearl’s help, Gem breezes past every code on the newspaper and uncovers various locations. Many of them point to the places Bdubs sent her to defuse the bombs, but a number of them are completely new to her. A few of these new addresses are various government buildings, followed by the word “target.” The others are followed by words such as “sulfur,” “nitrogen,” and in one instance a word she hasn’t heard of, “ПЕНТА.” After some searching from Joe, they discover that it’s the Russian abbreviation for “pentaerythritol tetranitrate,” a chemical developed only a few years prior that is commonly used in… explosives.

“You’re that detective who’s looking into the bombs, right?” Joe asks. “Is this… it?”

“Precisely,” Gem says, chewing on the end of her pencil. “It looks like my culprit has been using these codes to communicate the locations of their bombs and bomb-constructing materials.”

“Right in government buildings?” Pearl gasps. “That’s bold!”

“What’s really bold was for them to assume that I wouldn’t sniff out their scheme,” Gem says, a clever grin slowly spreading across her face. “I was right! Those bomb threats were a distraction from the real plan taking place! But now that I’ve cracked the codes, there’s no hiding anymore!”

“Haha, yes!” Pearl cheers, holding up both her hands. “We’ve got ‘em!”

Gem returns her double-high five with a loud, triumphant laugh. “No more bomb threats for you, shadow man! This is going straight to Inspector Florence!”

“Woah, are you having a party without us?” Logan’s voice emerges as he re-enters the room. “What’d you find, detective?”

“Here, look!” Gem excitedly grabs the decoded papers and holds them up to his face. “We solved it! We found the bomb locations!”

Logan raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that was quick! You’re brilliant!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you all,” Gem says, beaming. “It’s thanks to your guys’ help that I was able to get this far!”

“Aww, we’re just doing what we can,” Pearl giggles. “Come on, now, this calls for a celebration! How about a victory hug?”

Gem spreads her arms out and pulls both Pearl and Logan into a tight hug. Pearl instantly returns the gesture, but Logan flinches slightly, as if surprised to be included in the hug. Though, after a few seconds, he sheepishly wraps his arms around the other two.

It’s over. They did it! Once Gem turns in these findings to the police, it’ll be over for The Shadow. Removing these bombs will undo months of progress, and there’s no way they can prepare all of it again before the mayor’s speech. 

I’ve put your king in check, Gem thinks, grinning confidently. Your move, H. Bales!

Chapter Text

“Mr. Cabidis, we have successfully removed all the reported explosives from the city,” Florence says, bowing. “They are no longer a threat.”

“Thank you, Chief Inspector,” Aster replies plainly. “Though, I do have a few questions, if you would mind answering them.”

“Of course.” Florence shuffles, standing back upright. “How may I help?”

“About the detective in the news—” Aster starts. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Florence’s eyebrow twitch. “—has she mentioned how she received information about these explosives?”

“She has been receiving letters with locations pointing to the bombs,” Florence answers, fidgeting with the hat in her hands. “We have not been able to track down the sender, unfortunately.”

“I see… how did the detective become involved in the first place?”

“I believe the case she was initially looking into ended up being connected to the vandals around the city. She started off only looking into threatening letters, but she suspected her culprit was the same one behind the warehouse arson.”

“Do you know who hired her?”

“I do not.”

“That is all I need to know. Thank you for your help, Chief Inspector Simmons.”

Florence offers another bow before placing her hat back on her head and cautiously walking out of the office. Once the door closes, Aster turns around, pacing back and forth with his arms behind his back. 

The chief inspector’s insight confirms his suspicions: the detective was hired to investigate the strange letters being sent to the mayor. These letters are only known within the mayor’s closest circle — meaning that the client must be someone on the inside. He can certainly try to track down her client, though with the speech so soon, it will be much more efficient to find her directly.

Perhaps he can have a little talk with this detective.

It’s a wonderful afternoon — no letters, no bad news, and most importantly, no Bdubs. For the first time in two weeks, Gem is able to unwind with a cup of tea (after waking up at the crack of 1 P.M.) as she scans over newspapers for any information she might’ve missed. So far, she only sees transcripts and reports of Florence’s official statement to the public that the bomb threats are no more. Well, Gem supposes, no news is good news.

She is just a tad bit disappointed in herself for not being able to track down the leader of the Mycelium Resistance as she intended, though X assured her that she has already done a tremendous amount of work for the city. Gem won’t stop her hunt for the culprit yet, but at the very least, she can rest easy knowing that they won’t be able to do as much during the speech after all of their bombs have been uprooted.

“Oi, Gem!” Pearl calls out from downstairs. “You’ve got a letter!”

“Who’s it from?” Gem asks, placing down her cup and standing up. 

“Not sure,” Pearl says as she emerges from the stairs with an envelope in her hand. She holds it out to Gem. “Doesn’t have a sender.”

Just like the letters that Bdubs sends. There goes her peaceful day. Gem sighs and takes it from Pearl. 

The two seat themselves at the table with a pencil and paper ready to solve whatever word-cross Bdubs throws at them. Gem tears open the envelope, expecting to see the ridiculous cartoon animal of the day… only to find a paper full of gibberish and a single legible line at the top: Six letters back.

“Caesar cipher,” Gem remarks, scrunching her nose. “That’s new.”

“Huh?” Pearl says. “Is this like one of those codes you had to solve at the library?”

“Yes and no,” Gem says, already starting to write down the alphabet on a strip of paper. “It’s the basis of the Vigenère cipher, but it’s much simpler since it only shifts the alphabet back by a certain number of letters. All we have to do to crack it is to make a key of the alphabet shifted six letters back.”

“Ohhh! That seems pretty trivial, considering what we had to do to solve those newspapers.”

“Mhm… I wonder what Bdubs is up to.”

With Pearl’s help, Gem finishes the key, and the two begin to decode the letter.

“Your landlord hit me with a pan when I tried to send a letter!” Pearl reads out the first sentence with a snort. “He shooed me away and I had to defuse the bomb myself! NOT cool! Heh, good job, Isaac!”

“Why did he have to defuse it himself, though?” Gem wonders. “Maybe I was right about the bombs being distractions.”

The two decode the next few lines: Anyways, I wish I could be smug about it, but you told me not to so I’ll give it to you straight: There is no word-cross this time.

“Aww, I was starting to miss them,” Gem says sarcastically. “What is it now? There is an actual bomb on the train — WHAT?!”

“The train?!” Pearl gasps. “Which one?”

“I’m getting to it, I’m getting to it!” Gem exclaims, frantically writing the remaining words. “Charing Cross Station, Platform 6, 3:30 P.M. You can’t just defuse it by ripping out the timer this time. Good luck. What the heck?! What is this escalation?” 

“It’s already—” Pearl glances at the clock. “—3:10! Quick, quick, we have to go!”

“Wait, wait, there’s another line here!” Gem hurriedly scribbles the remainder of the letter, bracing herself for any new information… only to find a post-script that says I had already made a word-cross before this letter so I included it on the back if you want to solve it. Thank me later! “Darn you, Bdubs!” Gem huffs, slamming down her pencil and hastily shoving the note in her bag. “What time is it now?”

“3:11!” Pearl says, grabbing Gem’s arm and dragging her out the door. “Come on!”

“J-Just a second!” Gem squeaks. “I don’t even know how to defuse a bomb! Ripping it out of the clock was simple enough, but we can’t do that this time!”

“Don’t worry!” Pearl returns with a wink as they step into the street. “I know some guys who can help us!”

“You what?! You know bomb technicians? Oh — hello! Carriage!”

“Nope, they fix locomotives! It’s close enough!”

“Just how many guys do you know?!”

“Hey! I try to be friendly — Right, yes, could you please take us to Strand? We’re in quite the rush. Thank you!”

Now aboard a carriage, Gem unnervingly fidgets with her bag and umbrella. Pearl, on the other hand, rummages through Gem’s bag and pulls out the letter… and starts solving the word-cross.

“What are you doing?” Gem says, bewildered. “We have a situation at hand!”

“Panicking isn’t going to help us, right?” Pearl replies, already having solved two words. “Besides, it would be a shame to let this go to waste!”

“I don’t know if I wish to be more like you or wish you were more like me,” Gem sighs.

Pearl has a point, though. Panicking won’t do her any good. Except, it’s hard not to panic when she’s tasked with defusing a train bomb. What is The Shadow’s plan, in the end? Why send her, rather than anyone else, to do it? They could’ve easily stumped the entire police force, but they didn’t. She’s already out of time to track down the Mycelium Resistance before the mayor’s speech, so why even try to distract her?

Her musings are interrupted by Pearl poking her in the shoulder, signaling their arrival. Hopping off the carriage, the two rush down the Strand with Pearl in the lead until they reach a building labeled “Goat & Handlebar Co.” Gem has always noticed the amusing decal of a pink sheep (strangely enough, not a goat) with a mustache, though she never thought to enter the building before. 

Pearl throws the doors open, causing the two men at the counter — a tall, mustachioed man with dark hair and a blonde man with his hair tied into a messy rat tail — to jump at her sudden presence. 

“Ah! Pearl!” the blonde man greets with a wave. “Is that your friend?”

“Yes, but let’s do introductions on the go!” Pearl exclaims. “We need your help defusing a bomb!”

“A BOMB?” the mustachioed man squeaks.

“It’s on a train leaving in—” Gem checks her pocketwatch. “—five minutes!”

“Don’t worry!” the blonde man says, confidently adjusting his cap. “Leave it to us!”

“US?” the other man shrieks.

“We are literally steam engineers! We work on bombs every day!”

“I — well, yes, but at least there’s a degree of separation with trains—”

“Enough of that!” Pearl claps. “Chop chop! To the Charing Cross Station!”

The four take off towards the station, charging past pedestrians and nearly running into carriages on the road several times. 

“Fellas, meet my best friend and flatmate, Gem!” Pearl says as they sprint across the streets. “Gem, these are the proprietors of that funny store we always see at the Strand!”

“Nice to meet you, gentlemen,” Gem hardly manages to utter through her excessive panting. She doesn’t understand how Pearl can hold a conversation without losing her breath. “I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances!”

“Trust me, this is a great circumstance for me!” the blonde man laughs. “My brother Owen is very concerned for my job. Says I’m going to get myself killed someday, but a communications major would never understand the thrill. If I have to prove my brother right, I’d better do it in style!” He holds out a hand for Gem to shake while very narrowly missing a street lamp. “The name’s Zed. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Gem!”

“I, on the other hand, wish we didn’t meet over a bomb,” the other man says while wheezing just as much as Gem. “But it’s nice to meet you regardless. I’m Maxwell—”

“But everyone calls him Mumbo, because most of what he says is mumbo jumbo!” Zed interrupts.

“Why did you have to tell them,” Mumbo says dejectedly. 

“Whatever you say, you’ll certainly be more useful than me on a train!” Gem exclaims as they approach the station. “We’re almost there!”

Turning the corner, Gem spots a train stopped at Platform 6 and checks her pocket watch — 3:35 P.M. already?! 

“All aboard!” the conductor announces as a warning that the train’s wait time has come to an end.

To her horror, the final passenger boards the train, and the train lets out a loud whistle. The locomotive then begins to chug, picking up speed along the tracks…

“We’re not going to make it!” Gem gasps.

“Not with that attitude,” Zed chimes in. “We have to jump!”

“Jump?!”

A blur of color whips past Gem as Pearl zips forward to take a flying leap onto the doorway. Zed follows suit, landing right behind Pearl and disappearing through the doorway. Mumbo makes a few strangled noises before shaking his head and boosting himself onto the train. Turning back, he holds out a hand, beckoning for Gem to join him.

Gem takes a deep breath. Compared to everything else she has been doing for the past two weeks, this should be nothing. Jumping onto a moving train can’t be that hard, considering that Pearl, Zed, and Mumbo have all made it. Wait, they’re all tall, and she’s short…

“Come on, Gem!” Pearl yells, snapping Gem out of her thoughts. 

Realizing that the train is picking up speed exponentially, Gem cuts her worries and sprints forward, leaping onto the train and just barely landing at the doorway. Mumbo grabs her arm right as she begins to topple back, yanking her into the safety of the train cart.

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” Gem exclaims, frantically readjusting her hat. “That was close!”

“Not a problem at all,” Mumbo chuckles. “I’ve had closer calls!”

“Hey, slowpoke,” Pearl shouts from further inside. “We need to find the conductor before it’s too late!”

Rushing across the train carts, the group stumbles around searching for the conductor before spotting a man wearing the iconic cap and suit just about to enter the dining cart.

“RON!” Mumbo shouts, startling the conductor. “Stop the train!”

“Mumbo?!” the conductor exclaims. 

“Please, trust us,” Gem says. “There is something dangerous on the train! We have to evacuate the passengers!”

“What’s the problem?” the conductor says. “Is it that urgent?”

Zed pulls the conductor over and whispers into his ear. The conductor’s eyes widen as he nods rapidly, rushing off to the train driver. 

“You guys go look for where it is,” Pearl says, nudging Gem ahead. “I’ll help with the passengers when the time comes!”

The hunt begins. Gem and the engineers charge through the carts as the conductor and Pearl usher the passengers away from their seats. She checks the bag compartments, listening for a ticking sound. When she hears none, she moves to the next cart, the next, and the next. As the train slows to a stop, Pearl helps with rushing the passengers out the train while Gem climbs a ladder to check the roof. The bomb is nowhere to be seen. She can’t tell if this is a good or bad sign.

“That could be a great spot for a dramatic fight,” Zed comments as Gem descends.

“If all goes well, I won’t need to fight at all,” Gem groans. “Did you hear any sounds from this cart?”

“None,” Mumbo says, shaking his head dejectedly. “This is the last passenger cart, too.”

“Then it couldn’t have been stowed with the passengers. Any other parts of the train we should be checking?”

“There may be mail or storage carts on this locomotive. Let’s get the conductor!”

After squeezing past a slow-moving mass of anxious passengers, the trio reaches the conductor, finally escaping the stuffy train carts as he leads them to a mail cart at the back of the train. They split up to search different ends of the cart, listening for ticking sounds in the piles of mail. Right as Gem rummages through a particularly large box, she hears Zed holler from the other end.

“Did you find it?!” she exclaims, clamoring over to where the two engineers are hunched over a pile of mail. Lo and behold, an all-too-familiar shape greets her in the center of the envelopes, ticking away menacingly.

“‘PETN’ is written on the side of this thing,” Mumbo says, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Whoever made this bomb must be up to date with explosives.”

“Can you still defuse it?” Gem asks, nervously gripping her umbrella. Have all of Bdubs’ tricks and distractions been a cloak for the real threat? She knew The Shadow had access to advanced technology, but she didn’t expect for it to be so advanced that it would catch the attention of a locomotive engineer.

“Oh, no problem!” Zed chirps, kneeling on the cart floor. “It looks like it’s set to detonate in about five minutes — which is plenty of time! Come on, Mumbo, hand me the pliers.”

“I hate everything about this,” Mumbo whimpers, pulling out a pair of pliers from his toolbox.

Once Zed grabs his tools, the previous air of nonchalance surrounding him dissipates in an instant, transforming into a hardened focus on the task at hand. Mumbo’s aura of anxiety, while still present, gives way to a steadfast determination to hold the wires in the right place. As the engineers discuss which wires to cut in a low voice, Gem watches the second hand of the bomb tick, tick, tick ever-closer to its destination. 

Snip. One wire cut. Zed lets out a sharp exhale.

Tick, tick, tick.

Snip. Another wire cut. Mumbo wipes a bead of sweat off his brow.

Tick, tick, tick.

“There’s only one more to cut,” Zed mumbles. He moves the pliers towards the green wire.

“Wait, are you sure it’s that one?” Mumbo interjects.

“Ninety-eight percent certain.”

“Where’s the last two percent?”

“If I say a hundred and I’m wrong, you’d hold me accountable.”

“If you’re wrong, we’d all die!”

“Please don’t be wrong,” Gem remarks, clutching her bag. “Our lives depend on this!”

“You should probably leave,” Mumbo suggests, glancing at the open cart door. “At the very least, don’t let yourself go down with us…”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Zed says, frighteningly devoid of his usual joviality. “Hold the wire down for me, please.”

Mumbo swallows his saliva nervously and pinches the wire without another word.

The blades of the pliers press against the wire. Zed’s hands shake slightly. 

Tick, tick, tick.

Snip.

And then, silence.

Holding her breath, Gem stares at the frozen clock, waiting for any sudden movement as confirmation of their success… or failure.

After about ten more seconds, the three collectively let out a long sigh of relief. 

“Well, that’s that!” Zed brushes a strand of hair from his face with a breezy laugh. “How about we crack this thing open and get rid of whatever dangerous chemical is in there?”

“Did you say it was… PETN?” Gem asks. “Penta… thyrol…?”

“Pentaerythritol tetranitrate,” Mumbo clarifies. “Quite the dangerous compound that was only patented this decade. How do you know of it?”

“Let’s just say, chasing a bomb-happy arsonist leads you down some interesting paths of research.”

“Um, fellas?” Zed clicks his tongue, interrupting the conversation. “Take a look at this…”

Leaning over, Gem looks over Zed’s shoulder to see an open bombshell — with nothing but a folded piece of paper in it. “Huh. Where is—”

“The rest of it?” Zed finishes. “Nowhere to be found.” He lifts the paper out of the shell, unfolds it, and raises his eyebrows. “It’s an envelope. Addressed to you, Gem.”

Through these past two weeks, Gem has become awfully familiar with these types of envelopes. Her eyes narrow as she carefully takes it from Zed’s hand. Curiously, her name is written with a typewriter, seemingly on a cut piece of paper glued to the envelope back. Only one individual would go to such lengths to send her a letter.

She gingerly opens the seal and pulls out the paper inside, scanning over the words on the page:

My dearest Detective Gem,

If you are reading this letter at this moment, it seems you have fallen for my decoy. As you see, my intention was never for anyone to get hurt. And as long as you stop getting in my way, nobody will.

I respect your noble intentions, but I can’t let you disrupt my plans, not this far in. Please do understand why I am doing this.

And I offer my sincerest apologies for what will happen next, Detective.

An explosion sounds in the distance.

Gem’s head snaps up towards the mail cart’s window, where a blast of fire and smoke billows out from the central city.

“Holy cow!” Mumbo shrieks, jumping several feet into the air. “What was that?”

“A decoy,” Gem says coldly.

The bomb in the train was never meant to be detonated.

In an act of unfiltered frustration, Gem grabs her hat and throws it down, scattering a stack of now-undone papers. Strangely enough, the heading of a paper catches her eye and snaps her out of her impulsion. Snatching the paper up, Gem scans over the title… detailing a report on land permits? She frantically picks up and reads another paper, this time about the construction plans of new factories in the Limehouse district. A bomb on a mail cart carrying information about factory construction…

It can’t be a coincidence. Not only was the bomb a distraction to draw her away from the real threat, it must have also been planted here to cause panic and delay a train carrying sensitive documents. How was The Shadow even aware of which train to place it on? Even if they received information on the train paths, how would they have known what was in the mail carts? Unless, they chose a train to infiltrate at random, but it’s doubtful they would take such low chances of finding the right cart.

There’s only one plausible answer: there must be someone on the inside. And they’ve been tracking her in all the ways she’s never anticipated.

Gem crushes the letter in her hand.