“Basil is in the toilet.”

Basil’s staff, three men in identical white tees and cargo pants, were sitting in the room, playing cards on the bench. Around them were empty plastic bottles and familiar packets of antacid. They continued to slap cards down as Rai asked them if they had seen Cadoc or anyone unusual roaming the staff area before or after the match. The answers were sparse, and information even sparser. Things were normal, discounting the state of Basil’s stomach.

Conversation evaporated, and Rai placed himself against the wall to wait for Basil’s return. Ten minutes passed.

“He’s been in and out for the last hour or so,” said the player with one card left in his hand. “Each trip’s been getting longer.”

Rai turned to Cobalt, who began to back out of the room like a hunted animal. “Mr. Cobalt, maybe you should let the competitors see a doctor.”

“We have medical staff in case of emergencies, but some nausea after the match isn’t unusual, they’re professionals, they know how to deal with it,” Cobalt said, all in one breath. “It’s actually safer that they’re all kept here until the ending ceremony, but then we’ll be able to resolve if there are any immediate health risks-”

“Did these professionals happen to confirm Cadoc’s state at any point after the match?”

Cobalt tried to dissolve into his suit, a blue shimmer in the windblown hallway. 

“Trae,” Rai called, loud enough to have Cobalt slip back further, hopelessly attempting to blend into the walls. “You happen see Basil come out while we were talking to Kep or Nero?”

Trae glanced up from the unraveling hem of his coat, and shook his head. “No…” He bristled. “Why? Did something happen to him too?”

“No.” Rai dragged a look from Sao, to Cobalt, to the second-to-last room of the hallway, just before the back door. “We don’t know yet.”

Rai’s look was dark, Sao might be so bold as to say he looked tired. Waiting for them was another door as white and passive as all the others, but at the rate they were going, Sao couldn’t avoid the feeling that they were headed for another Pandora’s box. He could already see the dark tentacles of omen seeping out around the doorframe. 

Cobalt shuffled along. “Don't tell me you suspect Basil's in trouble too. Should I go in first-”

“Please don’t,” Rai said quickly. To Sao he waved and said, “Come on. At least we have a lead for this one.”

---

The fateful box split open to reveal a row of high-walled cubicles, in a room of bubbly salmon-colored tile. After the whitewash and bare wood of the dressing rooms, it was like stepping into paradise, with an illusion of warm pinkish sunlight, despite the lack of windows. To have such great reprieve in a bathroom, Sao found himself smiling at his reflection in the polished mirrors. There were only two major issues with the place.

One was that it smelled like meat. Fair play, considering the rest of the hall.

Secondly, there was Basil Paley whom they found hunched over in one of the stalls, looking like he might fall headfirst into the stewing bowl.

Sensing their approach, Basil heaved himself upright with commendable effort. “Sorry, I’ll be just a-” he hiccuped, “-just a minute.”

Sao gave him a wide berth. Rai was not so generous. “We’re with the police,” Rai said, closing in on the stall. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about what’s been going on in the staff hall for the last two hours.”

“The police? Did something happen?” In a hazy panic, Basil had turned as white as the outer hallway. “The last two hours? What time is it… I guess I’ve been here most of the time. I’m not sure - my stomach’s been a mess since the match...”

Small hairs were raising on Sao’s neck as Rai tramped closer. “It’s about 4 p.m. Should I call a doctor for you, Basil? You don’t look so hot.” Sao readied his phone for the command.

“No, no need.” Basil forced a smile, which was like watching dried plaster bend. “This happens just about every time.”

Rai frowed. “You had surgery recently, didn’t you? They mentioned it onstage.”

“A while ago, last season. Long story short, last time I overate was much worse than this. But for now, I know I just have to wait for the worst to pass, and I’ll be in the clear.” He was now having a hard time removing that plaster smile. “What was it you wanted to know, again?”

With a cocked brow, Rai continued. “Since you and the other competitors came offstage, did you notice anything odd happening in the staff hall? When you were coming too and from the bathroom? Any strangers, anyone in grey hooded sweatshirts? Did you hear any kind of altercation happen?”

“Grey- huh? Like, fights? No, everyone was exhausted. We went right to our rooms - the bathroom for me. I saw Kep and Nero pass through, none of us were feeling too great.”

“Not Cadoc, though?”

A shrug just barely made its way off Basil’s shoulders. “Didn’t see him. What else did you ask about, again? Sorry, mind’s all scrambled.”

“Strangers or people in grey hooded sweatshirts.”

The effort of memory had Basil sagging against the water tank. “I’m not familiar with everyone here, only been on the Central scene a year - less, with the surgery - but the staff would have noticed if there was someone out of place. I think.” He coughed, swallowed whatever he’d gagged up. “The other guys would know more. The other eaters, that is...”

“We’re talking to everyone we can.”

“Good. I guess? I’m still not sure why you’re asking about strangers and people starting fights-” he coughed again; a wet, swampy sound.

“We’re trying to sort out the sequence of events. Another question: do you know if Cadoc North or his manager had any enemies?”

“What? Cadoc? This is about Cadoc? Did something happen to him?” Was that a flash of hope in those muddled eyes?

“Some visitors said they saw him being pulled through the main hall by an unidentified individual in a grey hood.” Rai paused, scrutinizing the reaction. But it was back to dry heaving for Basil. “In any case, he’s not in his room now, his belongings aren’t there either, and we haven’t been able to locate him by phone.”

“So he’s missing?” A pause. “I’m sure he’ll turn back up.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m being hopeful.” There was the gleeful flash again. “He wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the tournament, with the finals coming up...”

“We do want to find him before that happens, yes.”

“Of course. Though I guess the prizes would default to Nero, if they had to…” Basil murmured.

Rai folded his arms and looked at the ceiling. “Well, let’s not get hasty with that.”

“Did something happen to him too?”

Rai stared ever harder at the ceiling lights. “Nero is fine. But he’s more or less out of the tournament, and Kep-”

Before he heard the rest, Basil coughed, speckling the soft pink wall red and brown with such force Sao though he heard a crack. Upon seeing what he’d done, Basil lurched forward, arms outstretched to wipe at the stains, but crumpled into a fit of gagging over the toilet rim.

Rai froze, mid-sentence. A line of blood began streaming out from Basil’s throat. Then another, crawling out the corner of his lip and down his chin and throat. Then another, and then a storm of meat and spit and acid, and then-

Thud.

“Mr. Paley?” Rai threw back the stall door and lifted Basil’s head up. He was confronted with white, rolled-back eyes, flaring nostrils, and a spring of red foam pouring from a ghost-white face. Rai was looking rather ghoulish as well, eyes hollow, bloody spurts patterning his drab coat. 

Cobalt half vaporized when Rai turned to him a look that spoke murder, “Get those god damn ‘medical professionals’ in here!” Next on the chopping block was Sao. “Sao, will you-”

“I’ve got it,” Sao had already dialed the emergency hotline.

Rai clawed the air, as if trying to shove Sao out the door with sheer willpower. “Get Trae! Wh- stay on the phone! Both, do both - but get him in here!”

Trae stumbled in, a blizzard of hair. The incoming medical staff bounced off his wooly bulk when he halted in the doorway. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know! That’s why you need to get in here!”

Trae obeyed, but only by one step. Medics swarmed through the resulting gap. “What happened?”

“He was vomiting blood, and coughing - he said it was normal. You work at a hospital. That’s not actually normal, right?” Rai handed Basil’s lolling head over to the medics and stepped away, only to find himself trapped in the stall. He gingerly stepped left, and right, frowned at the sound beneath his feet, and gave up trying to wedge his way out.

“Rai, the ambulance will be here in twenty,” Sao called, trying to keep his eyeline over the action. But there was no way to miss the gurgling, laced with desperate fluting whines, as if Basil were trying to argue.

“What’s going on?” Basil’s crew had emerged from their room, cards still in hand. Behind Sao, the lounge room door was wide open, and the technicians were staring past him with unabashed horror. Cobalt was in the corner, a phone in one hand and his forehead in another, on the verge of a breakdown. Kep’s door opened a little further down the hall and now his head appeared, still a bit green in the cheeks.

“Please, everyone stay in your rooms.” Sao couldn’t think of much else to say. “An ambulance will be here shortly.”

“Ambulance?” Nero asked, wandering out of his doorway. “Is someone hurt? Did you find Cadoc?” For reasons Sao could not fathom, Nero was still cradling his trash can.

Sao only shook his head.

Trae flopped beside the convulsing man on the bathroom floor, mumbling something under his mask. Wonderful, thought Sao. The gang’s all here. Other than Cadoc and his manager. No, and someone else - “Rai?” Sao sang into the room desperately.

“Yeah?” Rai was in the stall, down on one knee, picking at the floor with his face dangerously close to the soiled toilet.

Staring in the pink cube of a room, Basil splayed out like some absurd science experiment, surrounded by fumbling hands and one twitching giant in a fleece coat; his boss picking debris off the floor like seashells; two of Central’s greatest yet most disgraced eaters eyeing his back - Sao felt that he must have fallen into a fever dream. The dreams he had involving Rai rarely made sense; the concept of dreams and sleepless, dreamless Rai were so diametrically opposed that their accidental collisions must have unhinged his mind. Yes, that must be it.

“Internal bleeding?”

“The throat. Or stomach. And his head -”

“He hit his head-”

“Looks bad. What do we do?”

“The ambulance is coming.”

“Will he be alright?”

He had to wonder why they all looked at him, as if he could save them. Sao bit his lip. Kep’s words echoed like ghosts, underqualified and underpaid.

“Trae,” Rai said, pulling a length of toilet roll to wipe his gloves. All eyes shifted to Rai.

“I shouldn’t.”

“If you think he’ll be okay without it.” Rai forced his way out of the stall, grinding his heels, grinding his teeth. Sao thought he heard crackling, something electrical or gravelly. As if the effort of what Rai wanted to say was chewing at his bones. “Sorry I yelled at you earlier. But you’re the only one here with any real medical qualifications. And this looks like a medical disaster.”

Now all eyes were on Trae, at least until Rai took several of the medics by the arm and began to drag them out. Something clicked, and Sao backed out of the doorway, urged Kep and Nero back to their rooms, tugged lounge door close.

“Just a little,” Rai said. “Keep him comfortable until the ambulance comes.”

“I don’t know if it will be comfortable...” But Trae began to peel off his mask.

“Then just keep him alive.”

A halo of black smoke began to form around Trae and Basil, who lay like a broken doll at his feet. With religious tenderness, Trae raised Basil’s head to let the smoke seep through his struggling airways. But Sao could not help being reminded of the black tendrils he’d imagined from Pandora’s box, now claiming another.

Rai ushered him away. “No hazmat on hand today. You’d better wait way out in the main hall.”

He closed the door. “Let us know when you’re done,” Rai told Trae.

---

The police arrived before the ambulance.

They came through the back entrance, and a wave of reporters flooded in alongside them. Nero and Kep retreated to their rooms, but their doors had to be opened for the officers. More media leakage.

By the time paramedics arrived with a stretcher, order had been restored to some extent. Everybody just wanted out of the meat-scented hallway, but only Basil had the good fortune. Although, Sao was not sure how fortunate he really was. Trae had managed to knock him unconscious and have him breathing easy again, but Trae was not content. “It’s still bad,” came Trae's baleful diagnosis. “He’s full of holes. Holes on the inside. I tried to--”

Rai instructed Trae not to speak to any reporters.

And there was still the issue of Cadoc North. Rai offered to help interview the rest of the lounge-dwellers, but Cobalt found his voice just in time to moan, “Haven’t you done enough?” This was taken as the signal of a job well done, or at least an excuse to finally leave.

“What will happen to them?” Sao asked quietly.

“Cobalt will take care of it. He looks like a chicken, but I think he actually cares about the whole event.”

“I meant...” Sao looked across the hall. 

“Basil? Who knows. Trae did his job, so he’s alive.” Rai followed his gaze, from door to door. Nero’s was closed, and since the invasion of the press, Kep’s had closed too. “The other two, although they aren’t going to hospital - it’s probably over for them. Nero for sure, they can’t keep him in after that. But Kep...” In one hand, Rai rolled the tissue he had taken from the bathroom. “What did you think of the guy, by the way?”

“A heel, a you described one.”

“Aw, so you didn’t like him.” 

“That’s his character, I suppose.”

“Is it because he didn’t answer your question?”

“He was awfully flippant, though I don’t know if that means he’d conspire to attack or kidnap Cadoc.” Sao pressed his palm to his forehead. “Honestly, I barely remember half the events of the last hour.”

“You asked about his curse.” Rai gazed at the pile of equipment. Under a tarp were a stack of scales and the steel cooler, the mass still obstructing the hall near Cadoc’s room. “And he admitted to bribery. Hiring techs to tamper with the scales.”

“To be fair, he did not want to incriminate them.” Sao sighed. “I suppose if he has been cheating, he didn’t actually do anything this match, either. Cadoc rejected him.”

“If he’s telling the truth.” Rai circled the tarp-covered pile and tugged the bindings free. “Take a picture of that, will you?”

Sao sidled up to the pile of scales, phone in hand.

Rai held the tarp back. “So, how would you go about breaking these babies?”

Sao frowned. “Chimera brand scales? Lord, I have no idea. These look brand new too - you can’t even see the springs on this kind of model. Maybe they were bought for the semifinals. Chimera technology is pretty robust, sabotaging this wouldn’t have been easy - is it possible that Kep didn’t know they’d been changed…?”

“Possibly. He did say his little plot involved some ‘old, clumsy’ scales.” Rai waited for Sao to snap a few photos, then threw the tarp back over the scales. “Or maybe his conversation with Cadoc went a little differently from what he told us.”

Sao pressed a hand to his forehead again.

“Overtime giving you a headache?”

“Am I getting paid for this? That may just make me feel better.”

He got a smirk in return, which was better than nothing. “It’s up to HQ to decide if this counts as more than a weekend excursion. I’ll put in a good word, but you know what they think of me.” Rai rolled his eyes, and peered into the distance. “Still, glad I ran into you here, of all times. I can’t say if we accomplished much, but it helps to get a second pair of eyes on things.”

A hazy smile spread across Sao’s face. “You’re welcome.” It was always mildly refreshing when Rai, dreamless supervisor that he was, let slip that he was indeed human, and a gracious one at that. Of course, he knew Rai tried to serve the city; he wasn’t a bad person, but his everyday self was so cutting, it was like Rai enjoyed the taste of bile. That made the little admissions all the more fulfilling, and Sao was determined to track and celebrate every one - in part because he knew Rai would hate it.

Aware he was being watched, Rai turned full attention to the tiny roll of tissue in his hand. “If this turns into a bigger case, no time like now to collect as much info as we can. The tissues in Cadoc’s room should go to evidence. I’ll go get them, shove them in a plastic bag or something.”

When Sao’s grin did not falter, Rai continued, “and I think I’ll drop by Nero’s one more time and get that trash can he was trying to fob off.”

Recalling the slosh of the liquid, and the smell, Rai finally succeeded in edging out that smile.

---

Trae was waiting in the courtyard that fronted Harmony Village Convention Center, watching the flags flutter against a watercolor sunset. He appeared to be smoking with the help of a novelty pipe, a curved piece of wood and plastic that he brought to his lips like an olden-day philosopher. When he saw Rai and Sao approach, he waved the smoke away. “The marketplace is closed,” he mourned.

“You can come back next weekend,” Rai said, cradling his collection of evidence.

Sao took a deep, desperate breath of fresh air. Every inch of him smelled like regurgitated meat.

“Sorry that I can’t give you a ride too,” Rai told him.

“But I think he’ll fit…” Trae said. “He can take the front seat.”

The bucket of a trash can Rai was holding splashed in agreement. It had been mercifully sealed with plastic bag tied around the rim, but there still was a lingering smell of half-digested burger. Then there were the evidence bags, insides smeared with reddish stains.

Sao shook his head. “It’s no trouble. You have to get all that to HQ already, I don’t want to force you to make an extra stop.” He turned for the bus stop, his own bags of fish, meats, sweets and pastries swinging on his shoulders. “We can catch up on Monday.”

“Yeah.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Trae.” Sao dipped his head, his arms immobilized by their load of goodies.

Trae gave a deep bow in return. He came up looking very solemn, his hair askew, like he’d been through a fight. It occurred to Sao that Trae was genuinely disappointed. Of course, his favorite sport had just been ruined by his own friends, and he was leaving the convention of his dreams, with nothing to show for it but disappointment and the smell of meat permeating his clothes. 

God, the smell. Sao already feared getting on the bus, into the elevator, walking into his house. Unwrapping all the food he had on him, mingling with that smell that seemed to have become part of his being.

The more his stomach turned, the more his shoulders sagged.

“You feeling okay?” Rai asked. How he was so spry after their ordeal was a mystery.

Sao slid the bags off and set them on the ground. “Trae, why don’t you take these?”

“Wh- I - I ca-” Trae stopped just short of can’t. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking, collecting so much food. I really don’t have space for it all at home.” A toothy smile at Rai, to keep him from speaking up; Rai knew Sao’s flat was large enough for a family of five-plus. “And I doubt I can finish it all before it goes bad.”

Trae lifted the bags with his fingertips, as if handling a sensitive animal. “Thank you.”

Sao admired how quickly he forgot Basil, the loss of the marketplace, the shattered remains of the competitive eating semifinals, and all his woes. Trae was indeed callous, in the way of an overgrown child, but all things considered it must make for him a pleasant existence. No - that was putting it lightly. Two hundred years worth of mental fortification would not have come easy. Not for the first time, Sao wondered what greatness or terror Trae had seen in his lifetime.

“Look Rai, this is the jerky I was talking about.”

“Please, enjoy.” 

Rai was the only one not smiling. “He’s going to eat all that before we get out of the parking lot.”

“As I said - enjoy,” Sao laughed.

At that, Sao swiveled on his heel and headed for the transport depot. Dead ahead, the sun was beginning to dip behind the terminal. Though he had alleviated some of his weight, he felt his stomach drop, and before him flashed the red and white and green distorted faces of all those stars he’d managed to see up close today, and wished that he hadn’t.

Sitting on the bus bench, he closed his eyes, finding relief in the blank space behind his eyelids.

But in the void, he was soon reminded of the one face missing from his catalogue. 

Where was Cadoc North?