“Mr. Hamilton?” A firm hand rocking his shoulder awakens Chaz. “He’s coming around.”
His back and left shoulder ache. As he lethargically opens his eyes, he becomes aware he is lying on his back rather then sprawled out face-first on the floor. A blurry red shape coalesces into a jacketed woman staring down at him. Instinctively, Chaz flinches, drawing his arms and legs close to his body, a precursor to the fetal position.
“Relax, Mr. Hamiltion. You’re safe now,” she said. “Can you tell me if you are in any pain?”
A white embroidered Caduceus symbol on her jacket above the letters EMT help calm Chaz as his mind refocuses on his current situation. He sees one other red-jacketed man kneeling behind her, preparing a neck brace for use. Gauging his body’s signals, Chaz is further relieved. “I’m sore, but I don’t think anything’s broken. How long have I been out?”
“Answer some more questions while I check you over and I’ll do my best to fill you in,” she replied. “Can you state your full name for me?”
Several minutes passed as she checked his memory, eyes, and neck. Even more as she ascertained he wasn’t in any immediate medical distress. “We got here around quarter-after-eight. That makes it about half-an-hour ago. Do you think you are up to trying to stand?”
Chaz nodded. The two EMTs each took a side and guided Chaz slowly to his feet. It wasn’t until he rose above the level of the interior banister to the stairwell that he noticed a huge hole in the exterior facing wall of the building. He thought the rushing wind sound he heard only accompanied the dull ringing inside his head. The events of the previous hour flooded his memory and one thought brought a new tightness to his chest. “Romana. Miss Delvalutra, she was upstairs with me. Is she OK?”
“Pretty Italian girl. Dark hair?” The other EMT said. “She’s up talking with BADGE and the police right now.”
“Thank god,” Chaz said. Not typically a religious person, he couldn’t help but praise any higher power that kept her safe. “Did they catch any of the three thugs that attacked us?”
“You’d need to talk to them about that,” the female EMT replied. “Feel up to trying the stairs?”
“Yeah,” Chaz grimaced as they started. “Hold on, where’s my laptop case?”
They scanned the platform and stairs for it without result.
“Well, there go my notes!” Chaz shrugged off his disappointment. He could find the information again in his workstation’s browser history. “They must have grabbed it. Let’s head upstairs.”
Each step became easier as the ascended back up to the Sentinel offices, until Chaz eventually felt strong enough to make it on his own. Winding back through the back corridors, the three of them found a dozen officers milling about the desks. Romana stood talking to a man with a detective’s badge on his belt while Krystal Fae and Starmaster stood beside him.
“Great. Why did it have to be HER?” Chaz shook his head.
“You mean Krystal Fae?” The male EMT asked. “She’s amazing. You think she’d let me get a selfie with her? I got one with Director Nova a few months ago.”
Chaz glanced over at the man, catching sight of his partner beside him rolling her eyes. “I feel you there, sister.”
The three of them stepped up and joined the detective and the others as Romana spoke. “They each wore a different mask. I recognized one as that embarrassing American fake chef. The one on the spaghetti cans. Boyardee.”
“I recognized one as a member of a group called The Bakers’ Dozen,” Chaz interrupted. “Romana, I’m so sorry. Did they hurt you?”
“No,” she said while gently shaking her head. “They chased after you. I called 9-1-1 as you asked, but before the police arrived, Mr. Starmaster here did.”
“It’s just Starmaster, miss’,” Starmaster said. His face remained hidden behind a blue and black face-mask as he spoke and his voice exuding some kind of technologically-altered harmonics that gave it an unnatural, yet clear, sound. “When I arrived, the three individuals blasted out the section of wall and fled. The debris would have struck innocent people on the street below had I not intercepted it. Unfortunately, I lost track of them while I did so.”
Chaz cocked his head. He couldn’t say what triggered it, but his reporter’s instinct fluttered. Starmaster’s reply almost sounded rehearsed. "He’s probably just embarrassed he didn’t catch the bad guys. I know I’m not feeling very successful either."
“Chaz, do you have any idea why they were here?” Krystal asked.
Knowing of her telepathic skills, Chaz realized he couldn’t deceive her if he tried. It seemed his potential story would fall into her hands despite his efforts. He filled the three of them in on his meeting in the park and his research. They listened intently as he revealed the potential danger to the upcoming Stellar Battle.
“I don’t see how there could be a credible threat to the arena,” Krystal stated. “Director Nova wouldn’t move forward with its construction if there was any possibility of malfeasance. But BADGE should have been informed as soon as you were alerted to the potential, Chaz.” She tutted disapprovingly to her co-worker.
A wellspring of venomous words typically spoken on the city's portside docks flew into Chaz’s mind. His eyes narrowed as he drew in a snort of air through his nostrils. “Listen here, you hypo—”
“Now, it’s fair to say we could all have made the same decision under the circumstances.” Starmaster cut in, holding up his hand between the two Sentinel reporters. “Hindsight is a one-way street.”
There used to be a common anecdote, ‘hindsight was 20/20’, but after the actual calendar year 2020, the phrase faded into disuse. Most people treat the numbers themselves like actor’s spur saying the name of the play ‘Macbeth’, fearing the merest mention would invoke evil spirits. Chaz appreciated Starmaster’s avoidance of the phrase. Things were bad enough for him as they stood.
Krystal pursed her lips, glowered over her glasses for a moment at her caped companion, and nodded. “Where is this research you mentioned, Chaz?”
Chaz wondered if the two of them had been trading mental comments with one another before she spoke, but he chose not to ask. "At least Starmaster got her off my case for now. Or until she goes running to the Editor-in-Chief." He led the group to his workspace, turned on his computer, and clicked to summon his browser history.
Romana stood on the opposite side of the desk, allowing the officials easy access to the computer screen.
While the information loaded, Chaz glanced up at her. "Well, there goes Saturday night. She’s never going to want to talk to me again." He was surprised to see her still smiling at him with a warm, perhaps even encouraging, expression on her face.
“Chaz, there’s nothing there?” Krystal pushed in on him, forcing him sideways away from the keyboard. “Did you delete your history?” She tapped at his computer. “No, this isn’t right. You said the Bakers’ Dozen and Poundcake were the one’s arrested, correct?”
“Yes,” Chaz agreed.
“I’m searching for those names right now, and there isn’t anything. No photo, no article, no mention of anything at all. It’s as if they have been scrubbed from the Sentinel’s database.” She struck more keys rapidly, typing at what must have been 200 words per minute. “Not just the Sentinel database, but all internet searches come up blank.”
“Someone’s working really hard to cover their tracks.” Starmaster looks at the detective. “I’d suggest you see about checking police records, but I have a sneaking suspicion they will have been purged as well.”
The detective steps away and makes a call on his communication device.
Starmaster steps to Chaz’s side and places a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Hamilton, I think the game is afoot.”
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