Lobby; 2:30
Luther’s exit from Bellum Letale had been a quiet one and he intended his entrance to be the same. A night in a hotel at the edge of the city was arranged for, but he never checked in. His car was parked on a side street and locked; the keys vanished into a pocket that wasn’t suited to modern times, as Javert took to the streets.
As no further information had arrived on Jean Valjean (or Jean Valjean for that matter), Javert found it his duty to investigate. Luther’s memories were tossed aside as he took the streets, a sturdy cane in his hands. There was something about it that felt off to him – Luther liked it too much and it did seem perfect. If he didn’t know better, he’d blame witchcraft.
A little after midnight, he found himself at a tall bridge. A sign proclaimed the water was the ‘Hudson’ which did him little good. He noted it was more impressive than the Seine and as he leaned against the balustrade, his mind went to the amount of suicides. There was a sign about being in distress, which didn’t make sense; if one was in distress then there was nothing to be done with these electric carriages (the cars which were so common here). He hadn’t seen a proper chaise since arriving in America.
Javert leaned forward, content for a moment to stare at the water. His mind drifted from comparisons to the Seine to power of the water itself; it’s reliability in the greater circle of things. It could wash anything away such as-
There was a sudden shriek and Javert turned, a hand moving to the pistol at his waist. He wasn’t a fearful man; far from it, in fact. But the sight of the car careening towards him was enough to send him running. The limp didn’t help and at the end of the bridge, he tripped at the edge of the bridge. He tumbled into a body roll as the car swept past, leaving wind in its wake.
He remained where he was on the ground, breathing hard and a hand on his heart. It took a minute to calm down, then he pulled himself to his feet, searching again. Enough dallying.
The car was found in ten minutes – driving it, was more difficult now that Luther was silent. It took the better part of an hour for him to give up, in the name of practicality. He kept the keys in his pocket, walking his way through the streets and trying to recall the proper direction. By two thirty, he was outside the building a watch closed and slipped into his pocket.
The smell of the building itself was enough to make him head in. It was foul, teeming with crime and villainy – enough to make him reach for a handkerchief momentarily. But his duty was enough to prompt him indoors. Cane tucked under his arm and a hand at his pistol, he walked into the lobby.