Chapter Text
It was late by the time Wyll finally left his office. He had technically been off the clock for some time, but liked to save working on his passion-project after he clocked out. Not that anyone would have hassled him for ‘wasting resources’; he was a hard worker, and the son of the city’s police commissioner. He often needed no introduction, and was the first call when local officers needed a social worker on hand. The collaborations usually gave him access to police files and information he didn’t strictly need to know.
Wyll tried to use the lack of appropriate oversight responsibly, overachieving whenever possible and trying to help solve problems the police department didn’t seem inclined to. He worked twice as hard to prove himself, to be a paragon of what the city needed.
With the days getting longer and weather getting warmer he took his time walking home after missing the nine o’clock bus. All the case histories he’d just read and reread were bouncing around his skull, so all that was left was to try to get his blood pumping while trying to sort it all into a coherent story.
There had been disappearances in Baldur’s Gate, statistically only slightly above the yearly average, but certain details had stuck out to Wyll. They all seemed so specifically ‘random’ that he just couldn’t believe they weren’t designed that way. The police he’d tried pointing this out to hadn’t agreed with his line of thinking, but the sheer number of disappearances in the city going unsolved was keeping him up at night. Even his father had told him to let it go, that there were plenty of problems to solve without chasing ghosts.
So Wyll had taken it as a personal vendetta instead; not only prove a greater missing-persons plot was happening in Baldur’s Gate, but find and save the victims. Of the few missing people he could conclusively say to be connected, none of them had anything in common that he could tie them together with yet. He just needed something that would push him on the right path, where he could find more clues to go on.
People-trafficking was his current best guess; it could have been for a slave trade, soul harvesting, or any number of unsavory purposes. The missing people hadn’t had any similar physical characteristics to point to why they would have been selected. None of them lived in the same parts of the city. They didn’t know each other, or have acquaintances in common.
Wyll was nearly home and he hadn’t had any epiphanies over his case like he had been hoping. The night was cool but not chilly with the streetlights orange over the sidewalk before him. Everything was quiet, no one else was around on the residential street only a few blocks from his apartment. He was prepared for a quiet night, unable to think of anything but
Without warning a figure darted out from the dark alley he was just walking across the mouth of and straight into him. Wyll’s instincts kicked in and he grappled at the person with a stumbling stride. He took a step back and the two of them stumbled for balance into the dim streetlights.
It was a man with his hands grasping for purchase at Wyll’s clothes while they both straightened and their eyes met. Time hesitated then was quiet when their eyes made contact and the moment settled somewhere in Wyll’s ribcage. He could tell now that this wasn’t an attack; the while haired man straightened with wide eyes and Wyll kept a steadying hand on his elbow.
“You have to help me, there’s someone-” he said with a posh and desperate gasp. He stepped evasively around Wyll, away from the mouth of the alley. “I think he’s trying to kill me! Or worse, who knows.”
Wyll’s attention was drawn back to the dark alley, but without darkvision all he could see was the pair of rapidly approaching red eyes. Without time for hesitation he drew his rapier with a wide swing, lashing into the darkness. He felt the tip connect and tear through the unseen figure with a hiss of torn flesh. The red eyes flared but withdrew a few steps out of reach, hesitated, then disappeared into the darkness.
He waited a beat before stepping back and away from the mouth of the alley, bumping into the surprise stranger.
“Are you alright?” Wyll asked, lowering his rapier and turning to face the stranger.
The man standing too close behind him was staring at him with wide red eyes, expression surprised but appraising. He was an elf with loosely curled white hair, a pale complexion, and a noble bearing. Red eyes flicked over all of Wyll, lingering on the still drawn rapier before settling on eye contact.
“I think I am, actually,” the elf said, a pleased smile breaking over his face. “Thanks to you, my hero!”
“My pleasure,” Wyll said and sheathed his sword, witnessing a visible unwinding of tension in the other. “What were you doing in a dark alley, trying to be mugged?”
“Hardly, if I wanted someone chasing me down an alley I would be in the red light district,” he said with a flippant wave of the hand.
Wyll choked on a surprised laugh. “Yes, well I’m glad to be of service. Anything else I can help you with tonight?”
“That depends what’s on offer I suppose,” the man said in a way that made Wyll flush immediately, not helped by a roaming pair of eyes. There was a beat of silence perhaps too long to be considered polite before he kept speaking. “But no. I shouldn’t keep you from saving the rest of the city, or whatever else it is you’re up to tonight.”
“Have a good night,” Wyll tried to sound as though he wasn’t asking a question, earning a lopsided grin from the already retreating stranger. He stood rooted to the spot until the stranger was out of sight, still trying to figure out what had just happened.
It wasn’t until Wyll got home and took his belt off that he discovered the dagger he usually kept strapped to his left side was missing.