TM Fic: Twister City
Title: Twister City, 1x01 - "Stormborne" (1/3)
Author: kseda
Rating: PG-13
Characters: EVERYONE EVER (ensemble)
Summary: Det. Wyatt Cain joins the Topeka PD, and finds out that solving crime may be the least of his problems.
Disclaimer: Tin Man and the city of Topeka are not now and never have been mine.
A/N: I've never been to the great state of Kansas, let alone the great city of Topeka, so I apologize in advance for any misrepresentation. This is for lolz, and luchia13. For anyone who's lost, try here.
Teaser
A faded blue pickup truck hauling a rental trailer made its way along a sun-drenched open highway, endless seas of crops blanketing the landscape to either side. Bob Dylan was on the radio, stuck inside of Mobile again. The driver was a man in a gray fedora, his hands rested at ten-and-two on the wheel while his eyes stared the road down. In the passenger seat was a miserable-looking teenage boy with honey-blond hair just on the wrong side of long. He brought the straw of a cup of soda to his lips and drank despondently.
The man's name was Wyatt Cain, the boy was his son Jeb, and they were hurtling towards an uncertain new life.
"It's gonna be different now," Cain said, apparently picking up and earlier conversation. "The city isn't like Hays, you're gonna have to watch yourself."
Jeb rolled his eyes. "I know, Dad, you don't have to tell me every ten minutes."
With a grunt Cain adjusted his grip on the wheel and stretched his shoulders as best he could. "I know you know, I'm just not sure you understand."
They passed a sign announcing it would be twenty miles before they reached Topeka, and in a hundred miles they would get to Kansas City.
"It's not like we're going to Houston or, or Chicago," Jeb persisted. "It's just Topeka."
"You don't get it," his father muttered. "Nothing's going to be the same now. We've got a lot of storms coming."
~~~~~
Rain swept down through the city like the wind's own blade, filling all the cracks and sweeping them clean, turning streets to streams and buildings to islands. The river which usually flowed with trepidation adopted a ferocity in the lightning, the surface churning as the current picked up. It was nearly two in the morning and Topeka huddled from nature's wrath.
An indistinct figure left a nightclub through the back door, coat pulled over his head as he splashed through the light of security lamps. Through a gauzy curtain silhouettes could just be seen of two women pacing and talking animatedly. A child crawled into his parents' bed in search of comfort from the storm, while in a dorm at Washburn a much older boy paused his studying to rest his face in his hands.
Out in the rail yard was a motionless figure, the corpse of a man with stringy dark hair, splayed on his back beside a shed. Rainwater filled his open mouth and open eyes and pooled in the hollow of his throat, where it became stained red with the blood still seeping from a fatal wound.
~~~~~
Daylight brought the shimmer of heat haze and the sparkle of police cruiser lights. The bald medical examiner supervised the body bag being loaded onto a gurney while forensics analyst Ambrose LeFevre snapped pictures of the scene, walking around and around in search of any trace of evidence. He was slender, in his early thirties with a mop of curling dark hair, and at this moment he was frowning intently as he approached two of his colleagues. Detective Thomas Tudor was mopping his brow as the lieutenant, Lionel Rawlins, surveyed the rail yard placidly.
"Storm took just about everything," LeFevre said and offered a sweeping gesture to the crime scene. "No footprints, no tire imprints, no fibers, all we have is the body, and even that won't tell us a lot because we can't get an accurate T.O.D." He shook his head, studied his camera a moment, powered it down and slid it into the bag slung over his shoulder.
Rawlins sighed and nodded. "Do the best we can," he said softly.
"We'll need a lot of luck," Tudor remarked and resettled his aviator sunglasses. "Or a fresh pair of eyes. New guy's gonna be in today, right?"
"At nine," Rawlins replied. He glanced at the sun and Tudor checked his wristwatch while LeFevre consulted an incongruous pocket watch.
The CSI shrugged and returned the timepiece to his jeans pocket. "Oh well. Better get back and put the coffee on."
The three men departed the scene with a sense of solemn duty, the pressing weight of justice hanging over them.
Act 1
Cain actually arrived at the front door of the police station at 8:50 with Jeb in tow. School would not start for another week and he was not about to leave his son to his own devices on his first day in a new city. They approached the reception desk, which was tended by a white haired man whose attention was focused on an iPhone. After a few moments of waiting Cain cleared his throat pointedly, but was ignored.
"Excuse me," he finally said, leaning over the desk. The man responded by holding up a hand, which caused Jeb to sigh and cast his gaze towards the ceiling. "I'm here to see Lieutenant Rawlins."
"And I'm watching YouTube," the man snapped. The nameplate declared him to be Peter Vue. He grinned at the screen, shook his head, then finally gave his attention to the visitors. Cain was dressed in a suit and tie, Jeb in cargo pants and a Linkin Park t-shirt, and the receptionist raised his eyebrows. "May I help you?"
"I'm Wyatt Cain, I'm the new detective," Cain began, then nodded to his son. "We just got in to town last night, so I brought my boy in to keep an eye on him."
Vue looked them both over again and nodded. "Waiting room two," he told Jeb and pointed in the proper direction before turning his gaze to Cain. "And come with me, the lieutenant wanted to see you right away."
They walked past the waiting room which Jeb was directed into, pointed at ancient magazines and stale coffee and the daytime television on mute. Cain instructed his son to stay put, he'll be back for him to get lunch, and then he and Vue departed.
Jeb waited exactly forty seconds before he got to his feet and, with his visitor pass visible to all, went off exploring.
~~~~~
Vue knocked twice once they reached the office, waited for a couple moments, then opened the door and leaned in. "Wyatt Cain to see you, sir."
The office's occupant, Lt. Lionel Rawlins, waved them in from the seat behind his desk. He was a man of average height with shaggy, golden-brown hair and a neatly maintained full beard. Dressed in brown slacks with a slate blue shirt and matching tie, he gave off a casual aura as he sized up his new detective. Wordlessly he gestured to a visitor's chair, which Cain took while Vue departed with a shrug, closing the door behind him.
There was yet more silence as the men studied one another. Unnerved, Cain was about to break eye contact when Rawlins leaned in to speak.
"Good drive?" he asked, then added at Cain's mystified expression. "From Hays. No trouble?"
"No, none sir," Cain replied awkwardly. Rawlins had a soft, rasping voice that seemed at odds with his appearance. "No traffic, fine weather until we got into town, and we didn't even get lost finding the hotel. Thank you again for putting us up."
Rawlins nodded. "Long trip with big change. You sure about this?"
"It's a little late for me to reconsider, sir," Cain said with a shrug. "I'm certain I can handle it."
The lieutenant scratched at his beard, stood up, and paced over to the window. "The city is different, even for a good, brave man," he sighed, and Cain was relieved to hear him string that many words together no matter how nonsensical they were. "Crime is constant, if you know where to look."
"I do," Cain said flatly. There was a knock at the door, and a moment later it was opened to admit Thomas Tudor. He strolled right up to the desk and leaned against it to give Cain the once-over.
"Wyatt Cain," Rawlins said, and Tudor blinked.
"My new partner?" he asked. At Rawlins' nod he smiled and offered his hand. "Thomas Tudor, good to meet you. Welcome to vice and homicide."
Cain froze in the act of shaking his hand. "Homicide?"
"Budget cuts," Rawlins growled.
"Combined the departments," Tudor added. "The powers that be figured the one can lead to the other, so that's where we're at. You'll do fine, we've got a good bunch backing us up."
Rawlins had returned to his desk and retrieved a badge, sidearm, and holster from a drawer. Cain got to his feet as the lieutenant came around and presented the items to him, "Thank you, sir."
"First day, should go easy," Rawlins said and turned to Tudor. "Show him around, introduce him to everyone."
"Can do," Tudor replied as Cain affixed his new accouterments to his belt. "We'll be back for the afternoon briefing."
~~~~~
Once out of the office they made their way to the squad room, where Cain located his desk and received his initial supplies. Emily and Hank Droiden, the husband and wife IT team, got him up on the network and gave him a crash course on the various systems. This took until noon, at which point they collected Jeb (who had returned to the waiting room at some point) and headed to the cafeteria for lunch.
"How are you liking Topeka?" Tudor asked the boy, minimally interested.
Jeb sighed. "I've seen a Wendy's, a hotel, and a police station waiting room. So far it's boring."
"Jeb," Cain snapped. "Watch your mouth."
"Aw, lay off, partner. Kid's got a point," Tudor said with a wave. "But this town's not that boring, I can tell you stories. I been on this job fifteen years, I seen everything this city can do. You better not underestimate it."
Cain glared and moved his mashed potatoes around with a fork. "Really."
"Oh yeah," Tudor replied with a nod to the TV. "Her for example."
Jeb and Cain looked, where on the screen was a beautiful dark haired woman gesturing at a weather map. The graphics identified her as Katy Gailman, meteorologist.
"The weather witch," Tudor began. "She's cleaned up good but a few years ago... speed freak. Meth is a hell of a drug. She busted into one of the biochem labs at Washburn, held one of the lab assistants hostage for six hours. Tried get him to cook for her, or tell her how to do it. He refused." He winced and shook his head. "I was a beat cop back then, first on the scene. By the time we got there she'd knocked him out and was slicing his head open-" he traced a line down the center of his head "-with a hunk of glass."
Jeb was boggling. "Why?"
Tudor leaned forward. "She said she was trying to get to his brain, to get the information."
"And now she's doing the weather," Cain deadpanned.
"She's a Gailman," Tudor said with a shrug. "Her grandmother was a senator, her mother's the mayor now, and her kid sister's an ADA. She got off with rehab and community service."
"What happened to the guy?" Jeb asked, his gaze still fixed on the TV.
Tudor snorted. "He's fine. Filed civil suit, settled out of court. Got his own lab now and everything."
Jeb shook his head and excused himself to go grab some dessert. Tudor leaned back and sighed, eyeing his partner carefully. "Can't take the boy with you to work every day, you know. Not with what we deal with."
"I can't leave him in a hotel by himself either," Cain pointed out. "He's fourteen, I want him somewhere I know he's safe."
Tudor nodded. "Fair enough, we'll work something out for tomorrow, but he'd gotta go back in the waiting room after lunch so we can work on your first case."
"And what would that be?"
"The John Doe we collected from down by the tracks this very morning."
Continue...
Author: kseda
Rating: PG-13
Characters: EVERYONE EVER (ensemble)
Summary: Det. Wyatt Cain joins the Topeka PD, and finds out that solving crime may be the least of his problems.
Disclaimer: Tin Man and the city of Topeka are not now and never have been mine.
A/N: I've never been to the great state of Kansas, let alone the great city of Topeka, so I apologize in advance for any misrepresentation. This is for lolz, and luchia13. For anyone who's lost, try here.
Teaser
A faded blue pickup truck hauling a rental trailer made its way along a sun-drenched open highway, endless seas of crops blanketing the landscape to either side. Bob Dylan was on the radio, stuck inside of Mobile again. The driver was a man in a gray fedora, his hands rested at ten-and-two on the wheel while his eyes stared the road down. In the passenger seat was a miserable-looking teenage boy with honey-blond hair just on the wrong side of long. He brought the straw of a cup of soda to his lips and drank despondently.
The man's name was Wyatt Cain, the boy was his son Jeb, and they were hurtling towards an uncertain new life.
"It's gonna be different now," Cain said, apparently picking up and earlier conversation. "The city isn't like Hays, you're gonna have to watch yourself."
Jeb rolled his eyes. "I know, Dad, you don't have to tell me every ten minutes."
With a grunt Cain adjusted his grip on the wheel and stretched his shoulders as best he could. "I know you know, I'm just not sure you understand."
They passed a sign announcing it would be twenty miles before they reached Topeka, and in a hundred miles they would get to Kansas City.
"It's not like we're going to Houston or, or Chicago," Jeb persisted. "It's just Topeka."
"You don't get it," his father muttered. "Nothing's going to be the same now. We've got a lot of storms coming."
~~~~~
Rain swept down through the city like the wind's own blade, filling all the cracks and sweeping them clean, turning streets to streams and buildings to islands. The river which usually flowed with trepidation adopted a ferocity in the lightning, the surface churning as the current picked up. It was nearly two in the morning and Topeka huddled from nature's wrath.
An indistinct figure left a nightclub through the back door, coat pulled over his head as he splashed through the light of security lamps. Through a gauzy curtain silhouettes could just be seen of two women pacing and talking animatedly. A child crawled into his parents' bed in search of comfort from the storm, while in a dorm at Washburn a much older boy paused his studying to rest his face in his hands.
Out in the rail yard was a motionless figure, the corpse of a man with stringy dark hair, splayed on his back beside a shed. Rainwater filled his open mouth and open eyes and pooled in the hollow of his throat, where it became stained red with the blood still seeping from a fatal wound.
~~~~~
Daylight brought the shimmer of heat haze and the sparkle of police cruiser lights. The bald medical examiner supervised the body bag being loaded onto a gurney while forensics analyst Ambrose LeFevre snapped pictures of the scene, walking around and around in search of any trace of evidence. He was slender, in his early thirties with a mop of curling dark hair, and at this moment he was frowning intently as he approached two of his colleagues. Detective Thomas Tudor was mopping his brow as the lieutenant, Lionel Rawlins, surveyed the rail yard placidly.
"Storm took just about everything," LeFevre said and offered a sweeping gesture to the crime scene. "No footprints, no tire imprints, no fibers, all we have is the body, and even that won't tell us a lot because we can't get an accurate T.O.D." He shook his head, studied his camera a moment, powered it down and slid it into the bag slung over his shoulder.
Rawlins sighed and nodded. "Do the best we can," he said softly.
"We'll need a lot of luck," Tudor remarked and resettled his aviator sunglasses. "Or a fresh pair of eyes. New guy's gonna be in today, right?"
"At nine," Rawlins replied. He glanced at the sun and Tudor checked his wristwatch while LeFevre consulted an incongruous pocket watch.
The CSI shrugged and returned the timepiece to his jeans pocket. "Oh well. Better get back and put the coffee on."
The three men departed the scene with a sense of solemn duty, the pressing weight of justice hanging over them.
Act 1
Cain actually arrived at the front door of the police station at 8:50 with Jeb in tow. School would not start for another week and he was not about to leave his son to his own devices on his first day in a new city. They approached the reception desk, which was tended by a white haired man whose attention was focused on an iPhone. After a few moments of waiting Cain cleared his throat pointedly, but was ignored.
"Excuse me," he finally said, leaning over the desk. The man responded by holding up a hand, which caused Jeb to sigh and cast his gaze towards the ceiling. "I'm here to see Lieutenant Rawlins."
"And I'm watching YouTube," the man snapped. The nameplate declared him to be Peter Vue. He grinned at the screen, shook his head, then finally gave his attention to the visitors. Cain was dressed in a suit and tie, Jeb in cargo pants and a Linkin Park t-shirt, and the receptionist raised his eyebrows. "May I help you?"
"I'm Wyatt Cain, I'm the new detective," Cain began, then nodded to his son. "We just got in to town last night, so I brought my boy in to keep an eye on him."
Vue looked them both over again and nodded. "Waiting room two," he told Jeb and pointed in the proper direction before turning his gaze to Cain. "And come with me, the lieutenant wanted to see you right away."
They walked past the waiting room which Jeb was directed into, pointed at ancient magazines and stale coffee and the daytime television on mute. Cain instructed his son to stay put, he'll be back for him to get lunch, and then he and Vue departed.
Jeb waited exactly forty seconds before he got to his feet and, with his visitor pass visible to all, went off exploring.
~~~~~
Vue knocked twice once they reached the office, waited for a couple moments, then opened the door and leaned in. "Wyatt Cain to see you, sir."
The office's occupant, Lt. Lionel Rawlins, waved them in from the seat behind his desk. He was a man of average height with shaggy, golden-brown hair and a neatly maintained full beard. Dressed in brown slacks with a slate blue shirt and matching tie, he gave off a casual aura as he sized up his new detective. Wordlessly he gestured to a visitor's chair, which Cain took while Vue departed with a shrug, closing the door behind him.
There was yet more silence as the men studied one another. Unnerved, Cain was about to break eye contact when Rawlins leaned in to speak.
"Good drive?" he asked, then added at Cain's mystified expression. "From Hays. No trouble?"
"No, none sir," Cain replied awkwardly. Rawlins had a soft, rasping voice that seemed at odds with his appearance. "No traffic, fine weather until we got into town, and we didn't even get lost finding the hotel. Thank you again for putting us up."
Rawlins nodded. "Long trip with big change. You sure about this?"
"It's a little late for me to reconsider, sir," Cain said with a shrug. "I'm certain I can handle it."
The lieutenant scratched at his beard, stood up, and paced over to the window. "The city is different, even for a good, brave man," he sighed, and Cain was relieved to hear him string that many words together no matter how nonsensical they were. "Crime is constant, if you know where to look."
"I do," Cain said flatly. There was a knock at the door, and a moment later it was opened to admit Thomas Tudor. He strolled right up to the desk and leaned against it to give Cain the once-over.
"Wyatt Cain," Rawlins said, and Tudor blinked.
"My new partner?" he asked. At Rawlins' nod he smiled and offered his hand. "Thomas Tudor, good to meet you. Welcome to vice and homicide."
Cain froze in the act of shaking his hand. "Homicide?"
"Budget cuts," Rawlins growled.
"Combined the departments," Tudor added. "The powers that be figured the one can lead to the other, so that's where we're at. You'll do fine, we've got a good bunch backing us up."
Rawlins had returned to his desk and retrieved a badge, sidearm, and holster from a drawer. Cain got to his feet as the lieutenant came around and presented the items to him, "Thank you, sir."
"First day, should go easy," Rawlins said and turned to Tudor. "Show him around, introduce him to everyone."
"Can do," Tudor replied as Cain affixed his new accouterments to his belt. "We'll be back for the afternoon briefing."
~~~~~
Once out of the office they made their way to the squad room, where Cain located his desk and received his initial supplies. Emily and Hank Droiden, the husband and wife IT team, got him up on the network and gave him a crash course on the various systems. This took until noon, at which point they collected Jeb (who had returned to the waiting room at some point) and headed to the cafeteria for lunch.
"How are you liking Topeka?" Tudor asked the boy, minimally interested.
Jeb sighed. "I've seen a Wendy's, a hotel, and a police station waiting room. So far it's boring."
"Jeb," Cain snapped. "Watch your mouth."
"Aw, lay off, partner. Kid's got a point," Tudor said with a wave. "But this town's not that boring, I can tell you stories. I been on this job fifteen years, I seen everything this city can do. You better not underestimate it."
Cain glared and moved his mashed potatoes around with a fork. "Really."
"Oh yeah," Tudor replied with a nod to the TV. "Her for example."
Jeb and Cain looked, where on the screen was a beautiful dark haired woman gesturing at a weather map. The graphics identified her as Katy Gailman, meteorologist.
"The weather witch," Tudor began. "She's cleaned up good but a few years ago... speed freak. Meth is a hell of a drug. She busted into one of the biochem labs at Washburn, held one of the lab assistants hostage for six hours. Tried get him to cook for her, or tell her how to do it. He refused." He winced and shook his head. "I was a beat cop back then, first on the scene. By the time we got there she'd knocked him out and was slicing his head open-" he traced a line down the center of his head "-with a hunk of glass."
Jeb was boggling. "Why?"
Tudor leaned forward. "She said she was trying to get to his brain, to get the information."
"And now she's doing the weather," Cain deadpanned.
"She's a Gailman," Tudor said with a shrug. "Her grandmother was a senator, her mother's the mayor now, and her kid sister's an ADA. She got off with rehab and community service."
"What happened to the guy?" Jeb asked, his gaze still fixed on the TV.
Tudor snorted. "He's fine. Filed civil suit, settled out of court. Got his own lab now and everything."
Jeb shook his head and excused himself to go grab some dessert. Tudor leaned back and sighed, eyeing his partner carefully. "Can't take the boy with you to work every day, you know. Not with what we deal with."
"I can't leave him in a hotel by himself either," Cain pointed out. "He's fourteen, I want him somewhere I know he's safe."
Tudor nodded. "Fair enough, we'll work something out for tomorrow, but he'd gotta go back in the waiting room after lunch so we can work on your first case."
"And what would that be?"
"The John Doe we collected from down by the tracks this very morning."
Continue...