Reborn in Castle (TV show)

[On the way to Winston Avenue]

The city moved past outside the windows in long streaks of gray and gold while Kate drove through traffic. A taxi cut across two lanes without signaling. Somewhere farther down the block, a horn kept blaring like someone had fallen asleep on it. Inside the car, though, things were quieter.

Travis sat in the passenger seat with his laptop open across his lap, the glow from the NYPD database reflecting faintly in his eyes as he scrolled through Aston Isley's file.

Kate glanced sideways for half a second before looking back at the road. "You find anything interesting?"

Travis hummed once as he kept reading. "Depends on your definition of interesting."

He scrolled further down.

"Aston Isley. Fifty-one years old. Half Nigerian, half Haitian. Born in Brooklyn. Former playwright, part-time cultural consultant, occasional spiritual advisor." He raised one brow slightly. "That's one hell of a résumé."

Kate let out a quiet breath. "Spiritual advisor sounds like the polite version of saying voodoo shaman."

"Pretty much." Travis clicked open another section. "No violent priors, no arrests... Just three traffic violations over the last ten years." He tilted the screen slightly toward her. "Speeding in Queens. Illegal parking in Manhattan. Ran a red light in Brooklyn."

Kate smirked faintly. "Truly a menace to society."

"Absolutely terrifying." Travis closed the traffic section and opened another tab. "Financials are average. No major debt, no offshore nonsense, and an apartment lease has been under his name for eleven years." He paused. "Wife died a long time ago. Daughter's listed next of kin until..." His voice trailed off slightly.

Kate already knew the rest. "Amara."

"Yeah."

The silence sat between them for a few seconds while traffic crawled forward.

Kate finally spoke. "You think he's doing it?"

Travis didn't answer immediately. He kept scrolling, eyes narrowing slightly as he reread one of the attached reports.

"His daughter dies in the middle of that ritual scene," Kate continued. "Then years later, people connected to the production start turning up dead in recreated versions of it. Revenge isn't exactly a complicated motive."

"No," Travis admitted. "It isn't."

He closed the laptop halfway, resting his hand over the top of it.

"But…"

Kate glanced at him briefly. "But?"

Travis looked out the window for a second before turning back toward her. "Or someone wants us to believe that."

Kate's fingers shifted slightly on the steering wheel.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked.

"The guy in the pink suit?" Travis replied.

Kate nodded once.

"He knew too much," she said. "And he gave us Aston's address way too easily."

Travis leaned his head back against the seat. "Maybe."

He thought about Adewale for a moment. The diamond-studded gold rings, the polished cane with a golden handle, the expensive suit, the bottle on the desk. Then the smooth smile that never fully reached the eyes.

Then he said, "Diamond and gold rings, expensive clothes, imported alcohol… and that theatre looks like it's one bad winter away from collapsing."

Kate's eyes narrowed slightly as she followed the thought.

"He's spending money he shouldn't be spending," she said.

"Exactly." Travis tapped the laptop lightly with two fingers. "And he was a bit too cooperative. Most people get nervous around murder investigations. That guy practically handed us the story with a ribbon on top."

"You think he's manipulating us?"

"I think," Travis said carefully, "that I wouldn't count him out yet."

Kate was quiet after that.

Outside, the streets gradually shifted from busy storefronts into older apartment blocks with cracked brick walls and rusted fire escapes. The kind of neighborhood where every building looked tired.

Kate slowed the car near the curb.

"23rd, Winston Avenue," she said.

Travis looked up toward the old building waiting ahead of them.

"Let's see what kind of ghosts live upstairs."

..

[23rd, Winston Avenue, 3rd floor]

The stairwell smelled bad, like old paint and damp walls. The metal stairs creaked with each step. Travis slowed down a bit when they reached the 3rd floor. He was already looking ahead. Kate followed his gaze.

The apartment door was open a little.

Smoke came out into the hallway from the gap. It smelled like incense, earthy and sharp. They could also hear a murmur like someone chanting. It was rhythmic and unsettling

Travis and Kate took out their guns without saying a word.

Travis took the point, moving to the side of the door frame. He pushed the door open with his foot and checked for tripwires out of habit. Then he stepped inside in one smooth motion, clearing the immediate angles as Kate followed close behind, covering the opposite side.

The apartment was dark, lit by candles.

Aston Isley lay on the floor at the center of a circle, his body positioned exactly like the others they had seen in the case files. The symbols carved into the wood were identical. The candles formed the same pattern. There was no sign of struggle. His eyes were open, fixed on nothing.

A figure in black stood outside the circle.

The figure had their back to the door, head slightly lowered beneath a hood. Their hands moved faintly at their sides while a distorted voice slipped through a voice changer, continuing the same chant without pause. The tone was flat, unnatural, stripped of anything that could reveal identity.

'Fucking crazy cultists!' Travis stepped forward, gun aimed at the figure. "NYPD! Do not move!" he shouted.

The chanting did not stop.

Kate moved to his side, gun raised.

"Put your hands up and turn around slowly," she said.

The figure did not move at first. Then the chanting stopped.

Travis moved a step closer, his eyes locked on every movement, watching for anything that felt out of place. The figure held their hands up, shoulders relaxed, posture controlled in a way that didn't match the situation.

"Turn around," Travis said. "Don't try anything funny."

The figure turned slowly until they faced Travis and Kate. The hood still covered most of their face. Up close, Travis could not tell if it was a man or a woman. A mask seemed to be covering the face.

Kate narrowed her eyes. "Get down on your knees," she said.

The figure tilted their head like they were thinking about it.

At that moment, Travis saw a faint glint of silver wire reflecting in the candlelight. It was connected to that figure's hand.

"Shit!" He turned around and covered Kate out of instinct.

A loud noise exploded, with a flash of light. The sound was deafening, making it hard to balance.

Kate flinched, her vision white. She grabbed her head, trying to steady herself. The ringing in her ears was loud.

Travis felt it too. The flash burned across his vision, but his body reacted faster than his mind. He dropped his center of gravity, forcing himself to stay upright as the sound slammed into him. His eyes shut for a fraction of a second, then opened again, pushing through the haze.

The figure in black was running toward the back of the apartment, pushing through a side door that led to the fire escape.

"Are you okay?" Travis asked Kate.

"Go!" she yelled.

Travis ran after the suspect.

Kate blinked hard, shaking off the dizziness. She caught a glimpse of Travis disappearing through the back and immediately called for help.

Travis did not slow down.

He hit the hallway at speed just as the fire exit door swung open. The figure in black rushed out. Cold air came in with the noise of the city.

The metal stairs outside rattled under footsteps.

Travis burst through the door. Stepped onto the fire escape. His eyes locked onto the figure halfway down.

"Stop! NYPD!" he shouted, starting down after them.

The figure didn't look back. They moved quickly as they reached the first landing. Instead of turning, they vaulted over the railing and dropped to the next level below.

Travis followed without hesitation.

He grabbed the railing, swung himself over, and dropped down. The impact was hard. He kept moving.

The gap between them got smaller.

The figure hit the ground and sprinted toward the exit. They shoved the gate open and ran toward the busy streets.

Travis burst out onto the street just a step behind the fleeing figure, the noise of the city crashing into him all at once. Car horns blared, engines roared past, and pedestrians scattered as the hooded runner cut through them like a blade.

"Move!" Travis barked, pushing forward. The figure darted left then right, slipping through gaps.

Travis didn't rush blindly. His eyes tracked the rhythm of the movement, measuring distance and timing. He saw how the figure favored momentum, how every step was angled toward the next obstacle. That person was a pro gymnast or parkour specialist.

The figure sprinted toward a row of street vendors, jumped onto a wooden cart, and used it to launch themselves onto a low awning. The fabric dipped under their weight before snapping back as they climbed onto the ledge above and ran along it.

Travis followed through, cutting the corner. He kept his speed while the figure burned energy doing fancy moves.

"Stop running," Travis called out loudly. "I won't warn you again."

The figure did not respond. They jumped down, landed hard, and pushed forward again. A cyclist swerved out of the way, shouting.

Travis crossed the street, slipping between cars. A horn blared. He did not look back. His focus stayed on the figure.

The figure reached an alley and cut inside. Feet pounded against the concrete as they accelerated. Trash bins lined one side. A fence blocked the far end. Without slowing, they planted a foot against the wall, climbed up, and vaulted over the fence.

Travis entered the alley seconds later. He grabbed the top of the fence. Pulled himself over, landing on the other side.

The figure was moving again, but not as fast as before.

Travis closed in.

The runner glanced back with a quick look. It was enough.

Travis saw the shift in balance, the exhaustion in their steps. That was all he needed. He burst out in speed using his enhanced body. Heck, he was surprised how fast he caught up to the suspect.

He punched the suspect's back really hard.

The figure collapsed forward, momentum carrying them into a hard fall across the pavement. A strained sound escaped them as they tried to push up, but their legs failed beneath them.

Travis walked forward, taking out his gun. The chase was over. He stopped before the suspect, raising his gun.

The figure lay on their side, breathing unevenly. The hood had shifted, revealing the edge of a skull mask.

"Cute mask, reminds me of that creepy Ghost guy. He was just like you, running and doing fancy moves and killing the enemies. Urg! Even his memories still give me chills," Travis said as he took a deep breath. "Well, not that it matters anymore. Now, let's see who's hiding behind that mask." He smiled. "Take it off and show me that mug."

They took off the mask and looked at Travis.

Travis let out a little chuckle as he said, "I'll be damned."

--

Find me in the link below for advance chapters: https://unknownmaster.carrd.co/

[20 advance chs] + [Modern Family: 15 chs Early access]