“Detective?”

No response.

“Detective?”

A loud, exasperated exhalation followed.

Sergeant Hannover cleared his throat awkwardly and resolved to continue unprompted, “Erm, Detective? Sir…”

With a loud smack, Detective Eucliv shut his book and turned towards the junior officer.

“For God’s sake, man! Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Hannover eyed the tome which the detective had tossed onto his desk. He seriously doubted that Hijinks and Heroine, the Life of a Rock and Roll Star would provide vital information in any case they currently had open.

“It’s just that, I’ve been trying to reach you for days now, sir, and your secretary always says you’ve been busy, and I th-”

“Yes! Funny that, isn’t it, Graham? My secretary says I’m busy. and yet here you are!”

Hannover let the condescending comment wash over him, “I really believe this information is worthy of your attention, sir. That’s all.”

The detective placed a tanned hand on his wrinkled forehead, plucking at his combed moustache with the other. Eucliv was of a generous size, with thinning black hair which never quite seemed to obey the laws of gravity. By contrast, the sergeant was a tall, lean figure, with manicured, brown hair and dark rimmed spectacles. Appearance wise, one would be forgiven for thinking power gradient between the two men tipped the other. This disparity carried over to their attitudes as well. The two men were polar opposites. Unsurprisingly, each loathed the other, and was barely able to keep up the pretense of civility.

“Has my wife filed for a divorce?”

Hannover hesitated, “No, sir.”

“Did Mila Clemens decide to give up a life of fame and stardom and sod off to Loca with me, intent on spending the days drinking cocktails and going at it like rabbits in heat?”

This was getting tiresome, “No, sir.”

“Has Mr. Fluffy, my adorable pet cat, keeled over and died in the past two hours?”

“We can only hope so, sir.”

The detective’s eyes issued a caution, “If it is none of the above, sergeant,” he made the title an insult, “then you can bet your pension that I don’t give a damn!”

“Sir, there is serious trouble stirring in The Pits. I think tha-”

“Hannover! I don’t care if the streets of The Pits are flowing with blood! So long as it stays in The Pits,” Eucliv spoke obnoxiously slowly, “There is no place for law and civility down there. The Pits is where the vermin go to feed on our scraps. People, Hannover, do not concern themselves with the matters of animals. So long as they keep to their sewers and we keep to our city, all is right with the world. There’s a delicate balance to things, Hannover, and it all hinges on everyone minding their own, bloody, business.”

Pablo Eucliv picked his book back up and tried to look extremely engrossed. It was not a subtle indication that Hannover should leave.

“That’s just it, sir,’ Hannover placed a file on the cluttered desk, “I think someone wasn’t clued in on your delicate balance plan.”

---

“Jesus, Graham! You could have warned us.”

Sergeant Hannover stood at the head of a small boardroom. Five senior officers, each with long and distinguished service records, and a bored looking Detective Eucliv were sat around a rectangular pine table, eyes trained on the grim image which had popped up unceremoniously on the projector.

“Sorry,” Hannover apologized half-heartedly, “The gentleman in this picture is none other than Marcus Asher, son of the Grey Wolf.”

There were a few shocked, and some impressed, utterances from the assembly. Marcus was completely unrecognizable. The body had been pinned to a stone wall in the Square of the Unknown Marshall. Blood streaked the brickwork, and a pile of pulped organic mass lay on the floor below lifeless feet. Beside the corpse, a message had been scrawled:

Rodent and waste removal services now on offer. For queries, requests, or to report information, call Ultor – 88042479541.

“We got this picture from a local who, thankfully, was pretty snappy with his shots; the display wasn’t there for long. A day later, it was replaced with this.”

A second slide appeared, to more groans of disgust. This image showed the same spot as before, but where Marcus had been hanging there were now two new bodies decorating the sickening scene.

A new message had been scrawled over the old one:

To whoever brings the head of Ultor - $$0424795.41.

The Grey Wolf.

“Cute,” one officer provided.

Hannover ignored him, “This Ultor character is completely new on the scene. No one knows anything concrete about him. We have a profile from some eyewitnesses, and, from his description, he should be pretty easy to identify. However, he doesn’t match anyone we have on file.

“Initial theories suggest he’s a disgruntled ex-henchman of Lupus’, out to get revenge. It fits with his reported injuries, but to be honest this is all just speculation at the moment. All we do know is that he likes things public, he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, and that he’s not alone.”

“You tried the number?”

Hannover nodded, “Telephone confessions service – ‘Sin Bin’.”

There were a few sniggers and a good deal of eye-rolling.

Eucliv got up and waltzed to the front of the room, “Thank you, sergeant. Chances are this fool will slip up soon enough and the Grey Wolf will eat him alive like the rest. However, on the off chance he’s smart enough to go to ground, it would be best if we are the ones to smoke him out. We pride ourselves on our information networks; it will be an embarrassment if some street urchin beats us to the mark and informs the Wolf of this man’s whereabouts first. We have an obligation to keep the peace, gentlemen. Let’s make a bit of a show of it.”

Hannover nodded before he had fully absorbed what was being said.

“Wait. Excuse me, sir?”

Eucliv tipped his head towards the projected image, “That is no sum to be laughed at, boys. The force could do great things with that kind of funding, and, of course, it certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone’s retirement plans, naturally.”

The men chuckled and japed with one another. Hannover missed most of the details of their jesting. He could not believe what he was hearing.

“Now,” Eucliv went on, “I’m certain this clown won’t be causing problems for long, but, just in case, we need to be keeping a close eye on him. I seriously doubt anyone could pose any real threat to The Grey Wolf but, on the off chance this lunatic gets lucky, we’re going to need to be there to greet whoever lands up on top. This fellow has already made some pretty big waves, so let’s avoid engaging directly until we’re one-hundred percent sure which way the winds are blowing.”

The assembled officers nodded and then began to pack up, their conversations already drifting to other inane matters.

“Sir!: Hannover stood aghast, “You can’t be serious!”

There was an embarrassed silence as the men looked at one another. They were embarrassed for him, Hannover realised. There was a pit in his stomach.

Eucliv sighed, “Don’t be so dense, lad. How do you think you’re able to go home to your comfortable flat each night and settle down with that beautiful wife of yours? It’s that delicate balance, my boy.”

Eucliv put a hand on Hannover’s shoulder, “We can’t be everywhere at once, Graham. Certainly, we would love a bobby on every corner, personally protect every inch of the city, but, let me tell you, that’s just a fantastical green-horn dream.

“Reality is made up of agreements, Hannover. Agreements backed with figures. Lucus might be a terrible, horrible, beast of a man, but he’s not unreasonable. He knows he can’t have it all, just as we can’t. So, you see, he polices his part of town, and we police ours. It is together that we, Lucus, and those like him, manage to maintain order in this godforsaken place. Without the syndicates there would be chaos in The Pits, don’t you see? There is always going to be crime. Our responsibility is to make sure there isn’t chaos and disorder as well.”

Pablo gave Hannover a fraternal slap on the back to seal his initiation. Then, like the others, he exited, laughing and chatting about inconsequential nonsense.

Hannover stood alone. He felt a part of himself depart with them.

---

“The Wolf Pack turned a Cobalt Street apartment block upside down yesterday, apparently following some flimsy, false lead. If eyewitness reports are to be believed, the Grey Wolf went himself,” the speaker let this hang tantalizingly.

Since his display of ruthless enthusiasm during the ‘character building session’, Felix Abel had become a favorite of Ultor’s. He was something of a self-appointed right-hand man. This was enthusiasm Ultor did not quash.

“We’re getting to him,” Felix concluded, “He’s chasing every wild story and shred of information that comes his way. We could lure him out with ease.”

They were gathered in the musty office, overlooking the bare warehouse below. Polias, Arthur and Anthony were propped up against the wall while Felix paced in front of Ultor.

“He’s trying to smoke us out,” Polias harrumphed, “He knows our success hinges on looking like the heroes. If he’s allowed to carry on tearing apart The Pits looking for us then people will soon say we’ve abandoned them. They’ll hate us for bringing them into this. He’s making our words look empty. He’s making us look scared.”

“Agreed. We would be playing into his hands. He is forcing us to act quicker than we comfortably can,” Ultor unfurled his arms and rested his palms against the grubby window, “No matter, though. Our success is based on speed anyway. We need to use every bit of momentum we can. You’re right, Polias; the people will soon forget their fervor if we do not act quickly.”

“So what do we do?” Arthur spoke for all of them.

“He wants us to be bold, so we will be bold. However, we’ll go a step better. He’s challenging us to come out into the open? Well, we’ll do just that. We’re going to meet him on his own turf. The people need to know that we will not be the ones to bring this war to the streets. We will take the fight to his doorstep, and let ourselves in if he doesn’t come out to play.”

Anthony puffed out his cheeks, “That is brazen.”

“I fear that this plan might be dreaming above our station,” Felix shifted his spectacles as he spoke, “The Grey Wolf is no fool. He has dealt with intruders frequently enough to know not to leave any entrance unguarded, literally and figuratively. We simply don’t have the men to pull off an operation like this yet.”

Anthony was nodding along, “Besides that, years of having a finger in every pie have treated the old bastard well. He’s Summit level now. He lives and associates with the big wigs, even if he still draws his wealth from The Pits. Rumor has it ol’ Lupus fancies himself something of an aristocrat. Pretty sure he’s universally despised, but you know these Summit sycophants wear their smiles for anyone with enough zeros to their name. We could piss off some people in seriously high places if we take this to him.”

“I fear it’s a tad late to avoid that,” Arthur said under his breath.

“We’ll be bold, not stupid,” Ultor cut through the chit-chat, “By the time we come to face the Grey Wolf he’ll be a cowering cub, hiding from the storm. We’re looking ahead, now. We will meet him in his Summit hideaway, certainly, but I have no mind to sneak over there this afternoon. We will prepare. We will build. We will eat away at him. When the time comes, The Grey Wolf will know to expect us to come knocking, and he will know to fear us.”

“And sooo?” Anthony probed.

“Asher got to the top by using the dreams of others as rungs to help him climb. He may try to deny it, but he is still very much dependent on The Pits. Down here is where his roots are. As you say, his wealth, and thus his lifeline, is cemented in The Pits,” Ultor turned to face them, his voice commanding, “I want lists of his assets. I want to know where he gets his millions and where he gets his pennies. I want to know how to hurt him. I want to know where to hurt him. More than that, I want to know how to get under his skin.”

“Sir?” Arthur said.

“We’re going to hit his small businesses. Every shady racket, every sleazy bar, every small-fry gang he has in his pocket. If they’re paying the Wolf a cut, then we’re paying them a visit. We can’t beat Lupus yet, so for now we are just going to make sure we stay in the game. We’re going to slap him in the face. but from a distance.

“Let him think that we’re too afraid to take him head on, it makes no difference. Asher will see our efforts as cowardly, as half-hearted, but the public will see us as daring. They will love us for it. In the meantime? We keep stinging Lucus until a bite becomes a rash, and a rash becomes an infection. We will rally support at every turn, show people that we’re still in this fight, and show them that, if they dare to be, they can be in it too.”

Anthony nodded, “Nice, nice. His ‘business partners’ will quickly see they aren’t getting such a great deal if he can’t keep up the protection.”

Polias clucked his tongue, “We can go one better. We can offer our own service, but without the extortion. Anyone who actively drops the Wolf gets our protection, no questions asked.”

“Working for free? That sounds like a sure fire way to go real broke real quick.”

“It’s a hit we may have to take for now,” Ultor said, “For a while, Lupus will think of us as nothing more than a nuisance. However, when the money starts to drip, rather than flow, he’ll start taking us seriously. Killing his son was an affront. Strangling his funds is a declaration of war.

“He’ll take to the streets in force. He’ll flush us out in any way he can. It is going to be brutal, of that I am sure, and that I regret. However, we cannot falter. We need to push him to misstep. We need to show people that this ‘balance’ in which they live is a tenuous one. That no amount of protection money will keep you safe. We are subject to the whims of syndicates, but we need not continue to be.

“The people won’t face up to Lucus while he still howls the loudest, but while we are attacking his income and tearing at his reputation, they will soon see that the pup has had his claws clipped. Then, they will come for him, and we will be there to lead the charge. And then The Summit will see that nobody is untouchable. Then we will truly turn some heads.”

Arthur swilled his cold coffee, “It all sounds very good, but it certainly has the potential to go wrong.”

“Not if we do our part with the vigour we have displayed in the past, and not if The Grey Wolf is the man I think he is.”

“A week ago, I certainly wouldn’t have believed I could bring a hardened criminal crying to his knees, but you certainly proved me wrong there. If I can do that, then I’m certainly willing to believe we can make this plan work,’” Felix added.

“Put out feelers. Start probing. Find out everything you can. I want to know who he trusts, what he hides, and how he sleeps at night. The message is that we will stop the syndicates feeding their coffers from the pockets of hardworking citizens.

“For now, we keep our name alive. The people must know we are here. The people must know we are active, but let their imaginations run wild as to our reach. Let them whisper our names in dark corners. Let them think us the bogeyman. Let them tell their children that the vigilantes are afoot and that you might pass hundreds in the streets and never even know it, for we look just like them.

“This isn’t our war; this is everyone’s war. Later the people will need heroes and martyrs, for now? They just need to believe in the possibility of change.”