bakerstreet | YOU AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD

[ things have been going... downhill, for some time now. for many years after the war, crime in melbourne dropped, and it allowed for things to move relatively smoothly--or, well, as smoothly as they could, seeing as how much things changed so soon as phryne fisher showed up in his life.

for the better, though he would have been loath to admit it in the beginning.

sure, she's wild, and infuriating, and ridiculous, but she's intelligent, and brave, and a better investigator than most of his force put together.

--and beautiful, and enduring, and intoxicating, and god, but he's laid low by love's arrow, though he's certainly loath to admit that too, even now--

but! none of that is important, at the moment. or, well, it's all important, but that's not the point of this venture, and so we will be moving on to more pertinent matters.

such as the fact that despite the lull in crime after the war, general discontent had begun to rise, and they found themselves in ever more situations that weren't simply interesting jaunts. criminal activity was on the rise, and getting more organized, and people were overlooking it, turning the other way. even jack had been on order, more than once, to let someone go when he had evidence, had proof of wrongdoing, and he just--

--had to do it. to go with the status quo.

it was phryne that had suggested taking matters into their own hands, in that coy-but-serious way she gets, and it had taken a year's long search, a case that consumed his entire life, falling apart, to get him to agree.

i'm tired, he'd said to her over a drink one night, after he lost a whole year's work, swirling his glass and not drinking from it, and she'd (carefully this time, mindful of his ego) suggested it again. he'd knocked back his drink, kissed her with bourbon stinging his tongue, and agreed.

they already worked together so well that it came naturally. the crime syndicates of melbourne were still small, and struggling, and they (keeping the others out of it, naturally, it's not like jack had truly condoned any illegal investigating before) work quietly between cases, gathering evidence, working day and night--and really, sometimes they're able to push things through (or jack is, forcing information down people's throats until they listen), but, sometimes things are like this.

human trafficking in general leaves a bad taste in one's mouth, as it should, but this enterprise (run by a man named william king), specializes in children. they've managed to disrupt things, put them on hold, save some of the children, but something is rotten within the force, because no one is pushing for justice, and a cold knot in jack's stomach tells him either they don't care because the children are from poor families, or they're in on it, paid off for their silence, and he doesn't know which makes him sicker.

it's when he was told to leave things be weeks ago that he brought it up with phryne, and they made it a personal priority. so now things are come to fruition, with both chaos and a small amount of triumph, but there's no end in sight without further intervention, and is it really a surprise that 3am finds them in william king's home, in his bedroom? the man is awake, pyjamas rumpled from sleep, and he doesn't seem to realize the trouble he's in, because he's taunting them.

well, jack, he says, like they're old friends and nothing is wrong, what will you do now? you've broken and entered, and you have nothing to cart me in on.

jack, to his credit, simply stands with his jaw set, but the curious thing is, he's wearing gloves. he doesn't, usually, as it's not necessary, but--with the fingerprint bureau instated those few years back, it makes sense to be careful when they're off the clock.

william is cocky, but when jack moves he just watches him, wary--the inspector picks up william's own belt from the back of a chair where he's tossed it, smiling grimly before his expression flattens. ]

I suppose, William, [ he says it carefully, thoughtfully, as though he's considering something important. ] That the only answer is to take matters into one's own hands.

[ he's fast, but for a moment william is faster, and he gets to his knife just as jack gets close enough to wrap a loop of the leather around his throat. it's a bit barbaric, really, but it's quieter than a gun, and this house is too close to neighbors for a gun fight.

william flails, of course he does, as the leather pulls taut, and the blade finds itself lodged in jack's shoulder. a pity, since he likes this suit, but he has enough adrenaline in him to keep his grip tight, tighter, tighter, cutting off his air flow.

now, someone will pop up in william's place, but the fact of the matter remains that they'll scramble, and in-fight, and a lot of his underlings will get arrested for petty crime, and it will stop 'production' long enough for them to get a footing on the case otherwise.

he jerks his head toward the door, since they did check for guards but there's no guarantee there's not at least one to come running, and he doesn't say anything, teeth grit together--

--it's relatively short, all things considered, and this man deserved his fate, but jack still feels sick about it, only letting go and releasing him when he's absolutely sure there's nothing there but a corpse.

he doesn't look triumphant. he just looks tired. there's blood staining his suit, and definitely the blade is still in there, but he just takes a step away from the body and sighs, expression drawn. ]

We can only assume that someone will find him by morning, if not sooner.

[ so we should leave soon, he doesn't say, because she already knows. ]

To his office, I assume?

[ he tries to parse it light, joking, but it's necessary, and he's wounded, and they need to hurry if they're going to get any important information. ]

EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE X(

herownpleasure - 2019-08-09 02:30 (UTC) - Expand

hashtag blessed

excutient - 2019-08-09 03:21 (UTC) - Expand

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