Johann Martin Fischer
Johann Martin Fischer slowed down as he walked past Lt. Tetterton’s office. He nonchalantly glanced at the glass walls, feigning mild indifference at the two people on the other side talking to the head of the Adumbrae Investigations Unit of their precinct.
He couldn’t recognize their faces. The man had a police jacket draped over his blue plaid dress shirt and black tie; it must’ve been one hell of a challenge putting on his clothes with his severe injuries. He had one sleeve and one pants leg rolled up because he had casts on, and he needed crutches to walk. Why is he still moving around in that state? The woman beside him wore a similar business casual attire, but she had her police jacket folded in her arms. Even without overhearing Saffron mention they were detectives, their attires were already telling.
Earlier, when Johann had Lt. Tetterton sign some testing certificates—Dr. Cornelio mysteriously hadn’t shown up for work since Thursday, the same day Erind was tested—Ms. Saffy came in and told their boss that Detective Castan and Detective Klein wanted to talk to him about one of the people who came forward in connection with last night’s Adumbrae attack and was currently being tested—Ramello Staten.
Castan and Klein. Johann was certain they were the ones who found Julie Conti according to the records he hacked from their system. There could be a few Kleins in the force, maybe a couple of other Castans too, but the two of them together here? And now, they were looking for Ramello?
This isn’t a simple coincidence.
As far as Johann knew, the only link connecting Ramello and Julie was Erind. Did they discover something about her that they shouldn’t?
Johann quickly reprinted a bunch of testing certificates and went back to Lt. Tetterton’s office, hoping he could eavesdrop on anything important. The walls were soundproof. He stood outside the glass door and knocked. Catching Lt. Tetterton’s attention, he waved the papers he held, a trick he also used with Dr. Cornelio. But this time, he wanted to be let in instead of shooed away.
Before Lt. Tetterton could make a gesture in answer, Johann pushed the door and entered. “Sorry for interrupting, sir.” He gave an apologetic nod. “I was just hoping we could release these certificates before we process the next batch. The BID is rushing us to upload, um, you know…” He mumbled some words, hoping it would get a pass.
The lieutenant, barely giving Johann half an ear, sighed at the detectives and then turned to him. “Give ‘em here. These are starting to become endless.”
Johann prayed Lt. Tetterton won’t check the certificates, because if he did, he’d see these were the same papers he signed a while ago. But the lieutenant rarely read what he was signing, and if he scanned the contents of these, Johann was banking on the fact that he didn’t read the ones he signed before so he wouldn’t notice anything was wrong.
“I don’t know what to tell you, detectives,” Lt. Tetterton boomed while his pen flew over the documents. “We can’t just give you custody of Mr. Staten. As you said, he, and the rest of that goddamn rabble, are not being detained. They also don’t have any standing warrants. There’s no custody to speak of.”
“But, sir—” the man tried to cut in.
“By all means,” Lt. Tetterton pushed on, “your boy could walk out of this building after his testing—if he has clean results, I might add—and go with you, and you be the one to accompany him surrendering at the BID base beside HQ. Except for the fact that the BID told us to keep him here. We will stop him if he tries leaving. We can discuss the legalities by then. But your boy has no desire to leave, that’s why he submitted himself for testing.”
“Sir, they still haven’t taken jurisdiction—”
“Yeah, yeah,” the lieutenant said, waving at them in frustration, “we’re just going in circles. That’s why I used the word ‘told’, not ‘ordered’ or ‘instructed.’ You’re still not taking him with you. If you’re going to surrender him to the BID, why do you want to take him away now?”
“Err…we’re worried about him. He’s the—"
“Don’t try pushing the goodwill of Hall now, this is not connected to anything I owe him, and you tell him that when he awakens. Poor guy, bunged up by an Adumbrae.” Lt. Tetterton stopped writing for a couple of seconds and somberly shook his head. Then he said, “The BID is coming to get your boy. They’re riding a helicopter because they couldn’t get through those goddamn lunatics rioting. They'll be here soon. Talk to them if you want.”
The two detectives looked at each other, at a loss on what to do next.
“I don’t even know why you’re asking me instead of the captain. Although, I’m sure he’ll have the same ans—Johann?”
“Sir?” He stepped forward, trying to keep his expression neutral.
Lt. Tetterton flipped through the papers. “Some of the names here look familiar.”
He held back the impulse to nervously gulp. “I think some of them are relatives of the people we tested, so they have the same surname. That must be it, sir.” The lieutenant accepted his explanation and finished signing the papers. He still had the backup explanation that he spilled coffee on the first copy of signed certificates—again, recalling what happened with Dr. Cornelio—which was why he had to reprint them. Thankfully, he wasn’t forced to use that excuse; he didn’t want to look incompetent if he could help it.
“Here you go, Johann,” said Lt. Tetterton. “Get this over with so you guys can finish processing Mr. Staten’s group when the BID picks them up.” He nodded at the two detectives. “This is out of my hands. As for that other thing…”
Johann had no other excuse to stay. He walked out of the office and into the lobby, leaving the door open. He braced himself for the lieutenant’s yells, telling him to close it. But Lt. Tetterton seemed to be discussing another important topic with the detectives. He turned left, out of view of his boss’s office, but still as close as possible to the door. He folded his arms and pretended to intently look at the TV, which was constantly tuned in to a news channel.
“Investigation…don’t go around…allegations.”
The lieutenant was very loud in contrast to his short stature, yet Johann couldn’t make out what he was saying. And there was no way he could hear the responses of the detectives. All the offices having glass walls meant he couldn’t get any closer without being spotted, and had to hide behind the huge fern in front of the neighboring room.
“The mayor…BID will take care…don’t bother.”
Johann frowned. I’m going to try another pass. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Mimi leave her post at the front desk and raise the volume of the TV with the infamous remote that only she knew how to operate. She normally didn’t leave her spot, eternally playing solitaire on her computer in between work. He stopped and looked at the news.
“Hey, it’s the leader of…whatchamacallit? The PCM, yeah,” said one of the people sitting in the lobby, probably waiting for Mimi to process his papers.
Auron Cohenn, a fairly unassuming man, led a massive rally that occupied the whole road. The people behind him had banners and placards full of anti-Adumbrae slogans. They also flew many yellow flags with the fist symbol of their organization. Reporters kept up with the PCM leader, battering him with questions.
“The will of the people shall prevail!” Auron shouted, holding up his fist. The horde echoed his call. Several hundred fists pumping into the air. “And the will of the people is to take matters into our own hands. We are left with no choice since the government is unable, is unwilling to keep us safe. We, the people, will protect this city!”
Fists rose once again in tandem with cheering.
One of the reporters off-screen asked him a question, to which Auron responded, “PCM members are innocent. They were hunting for Adumbrae, following suspicious activities at EFU Medical Center. The arrest of the mayor proves what the PCM has long known: gathering Adumbrae-related patients in that hospital is going to be the bane of this city! A hive of evil!” He grabbed one of the microphones getting shoved to his face. His expression became more impassioned, almost on the verge of tears. “Many, many of our brothers and sisters died, so many. The BID is hiding the true numbers. We shed blood to catch Adumbrae, and the BID is suspecting our people.”
“Mimi, you’re listening to that crazy guy?” Philip, one of the technicians at the lab walked in. She hushed him. “Okay, sheesh. Johann, my man. We need you back—”
“Hang on,” Johann said. Philip raised a brow at him. He nodded at the TV. “That looks like Palmer St.”
“It’s the fault of the SVS!” Auron Cohenn roared at the cameras. “They all survived while dozens and dozens of our members died? It means they are connected to the Adumbrae! And we are going to get them—”
“Holy Mother Core,” Philip gasped.
“—to exact the justice of the people—”
“You’re right. There’s that small pharmacy I pass by every day.”
“—are the Protectors of the City Movement, and we will protect this city!”
“They’re only a couple of blocks away,” said Johann. Were they seriously going to attack a police station? It seemed they were ready to kill, and not just protest. Should he—
The frantic pitter-pattering of heels on tiles jolted all of them. Saffron came running out the corridor that led to the main building. Everyone in the lobby gawked at her, expecting some bad news. She stopped, surprised at all of them. “Eh? Why are you all—?” She shook her head and went inside Lt. Tetterton’s office, pausing for a second to check the door left open. Johann took this opportunity to get closer to eavesdrop. “Sir! Dr. Cornelio’s wife is looking for him again and—”
“Kenneth is becoming a pain in the ass. I don’t think he’s missing. He showed up a couple of days ago, didn’t he?”
“Yes—”
“It’s obvious he just doesn’t want to go home. Don’t forward that call to me. Tell his wife there’s no need to worry. She already filed a missing person report, and the police are doing everything they can to find him, but resources and manpower is currently stretched because—”
“It’s not a call, sir. Professor Deslys is here. She’s making a scene and the captain wants you to talk to her.”
“Another headache,” Lt. Tetterton groaned. “The captain and I know the same thing about Kenneth’s whereabouts—which is nothing. Goddamn this. What do I tell her—Johann?”
Johann was still facing the TV, so he didn’t notice Lt. Tetterton walk out of his office. “Uh, sir. Hello…” he sheepishly said.
“Didn’t I tell you to finish Mr. Staten’s group before the BID arrives?”
“I was just…The news, sir. Look—”
“When I come back, I expect an update.” Lt. Tetterton whipped around and pointed at the two detectives in his office. “And you two. We have nothing more to discuss. But you’re free to stay in my office while waiting for the BID. Tell Ms. Saffy if you want anything to drink.” He then stormed off, huffing in annoyance.
“Johann, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Saffron approached him with a frown. He had an inkling of what she was about to bring up. “Mrs. Deslys kept on insisting someone from our office called her a couple of days ago and told her that Dr. Cornelio reported for work. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
“No…no…” Johann tried to keep his voice even. “You told me we shouldn’t stick our noses in their business.”
“I did. Yes. It’s just that someone opened my notebook. You know, the one on my desk—?”
“Ms. Saffy, look at the TV,” he frantically interrupted.
“What are you talk—? Oh my gosh, is that Mrs. Churros down the street?”
Indeed, it was the famous churreria of the city, second only to the donut shop right across their station of the top places police officers hang out for coffee and pastries. The camera captured two cop cars parked outside the small store, and Johann had a sinking feeling he knew what was going to happen next. Is this what having Deen’s power feels like? he darkly joked to himself as all of them, including Saffron, stared in horror at the large group of protesters becoming crazed at the sight of cops.
One lone PCM member, carrying a flaming object, broke away from the group. Cameras followed him. He threw the thing he carried—a Molotov cocktail—at the cop car. It shattered the window, and exploded inside the vehicle, setting it ablaze.
The rest of the PCM horde took it as some sort of signal as they raised their fists into the air and started to run, knocking down the TV news crews in their midst. The view of the camera became full of trampling feet and was suddenly cut off.
“They’re coming here…” Johann whispered.
Amber Deen Leska
Where did Sis run off to? This should be her thing. Amber Deen Leska didn’t let her annoyance show on her face, acting like she had been facing cameras and microphones her entire life. She even did a few poses. Erind will certainly tease me if she sees my pictures in a magazine.
“Ms. Amber, are you going to take over your family business someday since your elder sister expressed no interest in it?”
“My sister changes her mind a lot,” Deen replied. She felt weird answering to the name ‘Amber’ since Erind called her ‘Deen’ all the time. Then she felt weird about feeling weird about it. And then she felt weird being asked about her plans as...a normal person. “I’m sure Sis will come around and change her decision.” She definitely won’t. She'll kill me when she sees this interview.
The reporters were relentless in their questions, excited to find something different amid political turmoil and Adumbrae fears. She understood what they were going for. The people needed plenty of distractions, and the sister of a local mini-celebrity and daughter of an influential tycoon seemed to be the perfect feature piece.
“What do you think of our new mayor?
“Do you have any political aspirations someday?
“Can you share your experiences in law school?”
“How about a future career in showbusiness or the modeling industry, Ms. Amber?”
Deen politely shook her head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for acting. And I’m not so sure with modeling, I’m not that confident with my looks.” She gave them a sly smile, indicating she was joking. All the reporters laughed. She was certain Erind was also going to laugh if she was here, but for different reasons. She terribly regretted not being pushier with forcing her to come to this event.
“Can you tell us about your love life, Ms. Amber?”
“Any boyfriends? Relationships?”
And here we go. It took them a while to get to this annoying line of questioning. Deen absolutely hated this. Why was it that every time there was an attractive woman, people felt the need to ask her if she had a boyfriend? Was there a requirement to be attached to a guy? Her sister also detested this, which was why she ended up juggling multiple boyfriends—the extreme end of the spectrum. Probably a weird power thing for her. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Law school is hard enough as it is, and I don’t want any distraction.”
After five more minutes with the reporters, which stretched like a hundred years of annoying questions about which actors she thought were handsome, Deen finally escaped, thanks in part to a rumor that a new wave of riots was starting, and the reporters rushed to ask the new mayor about it.
Thanks in part? What a distasteful way of putting it, she berated herself.
Was she starting to become callous with violence?
Maybe…
Deen walked away from the gathering of socialites and political supporters of the mayor and headed to the lofty wall windows at the end of the event hall. No one followed her. She gazed outside to clear her head.
Beyond the beautiful gardens below—a project of the recently arrested former mayor—was a line of police cars and barricades keeping protesters at bay. However, there wasn't much protesting. The people were actually walking away. If they continued their track, they’d intersect with Marshall Avenue. Turning right, they’d reach the hospital. Was that where they were headed? She had no idea where else they could be going.
She tried to focus on each person. They were too far away, so she couldn’t exactly make out their faces. But they all appeared calm. Almost like this was routine. This is becoming normal for them.
The whole city was becoming desensitized to the deaths and destruction around them. It only took a short time. And it was happening to her as well. She no longer cared—assuming she even did in the first place, which she probably didn’t—about the two men she killed several days ago. They were the goons of the 2Ms, yes. They were also a threat to her; they were going to shoot her.
No.
With her Guardian Angel guiding her way, those two weren’t a threat. Not in the slightest. They were simply normal humans that she killed. Gabe didn’t tell her to kill them. She could’ve knocked them out. She didn’t know why she did that.
She expected to be tormented by their pained expressions as they slowly choked to death while she crushed their throats. But there were no nightmares. No sleepless nights. It might be because she was preoccupied with making up her failure to protect Erind that she simply shut out anything else. Truth be told, their deaths probably made the world a slightly better place...was what she preferred to tell herself.
What did she care about? People…or saving people? She was afraid to delve deeper into herself.
“Hmmm?”
Someone among the passing protesters caught her eye. She whipped out her phone and zoomed in on the person with her camera. The image was still not super clear, and other people were blocking the view, but the man was taller than others around him so she had a good look at his slightly blurred face. He was wearing an uncommon maroon beanie even under the sweltering noon heat.
“That man…” She let out a minute growl which surprised even herself. “He’s one of the people who chased Erind.”
Before coming to this event, Deen passed by the pub Erind stayed in last night. Erind did tell her not to bother finding the hoodie she left behind, but there was no danger of raising any suspicion. Deen was looking for her friend’s hoodie, that's all. There, she found out that Erind’s story about a barfight breaking out, which was supposedly why she left in a hurry and forgot about her hoodie, wasn’t true.
The bartender told Deen that PCM members tried to capture Erind for some reason, but he and a customer stopped them so she could escape. He had the injuries to prove it. As far as he knew, no hoodie was left behind.
It made her blood boil. Under threat of getting sued, backed by name-dropping the new mayor, sprinkling in a few intimidating legalese, the bartender showed her the video from the barely working security camera of the shop.
The footage was grainy, but the large man with a maroon beanie was distinctive enough to stick in Deen’s mind. If she had to guess what happened next, they continued chasing Erind. And then she was probably forced to fight. Obviously, she couldn’t reveal the truth to Deen, which was why she made up a fake story.
Deen’s earlier assumption was that Erind might’ve badly beaten up the PCM members, got their blood on her hoodie, and had to throw it away. But if this man was still walking around with no visible injuries, then Erind probably tried her best not to hurt them. Good job, Erind. I’m proud of you.
But where did the hoodie go? For sure something else happened. If Erind didn’t hurt them, then they might’ve done something to her. Deen was determined to find out the truth.
If they hurt her…
“Miss, would you like—eek! I’m sorry. Is something wrong, miss?”
In her deep thought, Deen didn’t notice a waitress approaching to offer her drinks. She must’ve had her face twisted in anger. “Nothing…nothing’s wrong. And no drinks, thank you. I’m on a diet.”
She briskly marched out of the hall, burying her fear of her sister’s wrath for suddenly leaving. She didn’t even want to think of an excuse now; she’d worry about that later. Her focus was on chasing after the man with the maroon beanie cap.
She went out the back of the main building of the city hall, going to the parking lot behind it. Her car was parked somewhere in the middle. She was lucky she arrived and got a spot before the rallies clogged up the roads.
It was so hot that no one was standing in the parking lot. There were a few people by the surrounding buildings. Would they be able to see inside her car? Probably not. And the car windows, while not heavily tinted, should be enough cover. At any rate, now wasn’t the time for modesty.
She opened the trunk of her car and took out a duffel bag. Extra clothes and shoes were inside it, the same ones she wore when she went to do her little investigation at the pub.
Then she got in the backseat, quickly took off her peplum top, ripping it in her haste, and put on a plain black shirt. Tutting at the torn blouse before shoving it in the bag, she thought, I’ll just buy another one like this. Next, she kicked off her heels and wiggled out her pencil skirt, taking care not to tear anything this time. The pants she put on were just discounted department store jeans, not the high-waisted skinny luxury denim brands she usually wore.
To finish her getup, she donned on a horrendously bland hoodie—she got the idea to buy one from Erind—and tucked her thick blonde hair into it. Instead of putting the hood up, which just invited suspicion, she put on a baseball cap that she…borrowed…from her sister’s room. It was probably a gift from her boyfriend who played in a Major Leagues team.
Deen had a huge grin on her face when she got out of the car. Inexplicably, she felt different in this outfit. I’m supposed to be different because I’m in disguise. But there was a different feeling of being different that she couldn’t put her finger on. So different...Was this what it felt like not having a spotlight on her all the time?
She turned right. “Am I about to do something stupid?”
Gabe lazily rotated in the air. Its eyes were tightly closed. It ruffled its feathers a bit but didn’t utter a word.
“I’m going to take that as ‘no.’ Deen-solo-mission is a go.”
Johann Martin Fischer
Johann Martin Fischer slowed down as he walked past Lt. Tetterton’s office. He nonchalantly glanced at the glass walls, feigning mild indifference at the two people on the other side talking to the head of the Adumbrae Investigations Unit of their precinct.
He couldn’t recognize their faces. The man had a police jacket draped over his blue plaid dress shirt and black tie; it must’ve been one hell of a challenge putting on his clothes with his severe injuries. He had one sleeve and one pants leg rolled up because he had casts on, and he needed crutches to walk. Why is he still moving around in that state? The woman beside him wore a similar business casual attire, but she had her police jacket folded in her arms. Even without overhearing Saffron mention they were detectives, their attires were already telling.
Earlier, when Johann had Lt. Tetterton sign some testing certificates—Dr. Cornelio mysteriously hadn’t shown up for work since Thursday, the same day Erind was tested—Ms. Saffy came in and told their boss that Detective Castan and Detective Klein wanted to talk to him about one of the people who came forward in connection with last night’s Adumbrae attack and was currently being tested—Ramello Staten.
Castan and Klein. Johann was certain they were the ones who found Julie Conti according to the records he hacked from their system. There could be a few Kleins in the force, maybe a couple of other Castans too, but the two of them together here? And now, they were looking for Ramello?
This isn’t a simple coincidence.
As far as Johann knew, the only link connecting Ramello and Julie was Erind. Did they discover something about her that they shouldn’t?
Johann quickly reprinted a bunch of testing certificates and went back to Lt. Tetterton’s office, hoping he could eavesdrop on anything important. The walls were soundproof. He stood outside the glass door and knocked. Catching Lt. Tetterton’s attention, he waved the papers he held, a trick he also used with Dr. Cornelio. But this time, he wanted to be let in instead of shooed away.
Before Lt. Tetterton could make a gesture in answer, Johann pushed the door and entered. “Sorry for interrupting, sir.” He gave an apologetic nod. “I was just hoping we could release these certificates before we process the next batch. The BID is rushing us to upload, um, you know…” He mumbled some words, hoping it would get a pass.
The lieutenant, barely giving Johann half an ear, sighed at the detectives and then turned to him. “Give ‘em here. These are starting to become endless.”
Johann prayed Lt. Tetterton won’t check the certificates, because if he did, he’d see these were the same papers he signed a while ago. But the lieutenant rarely read what he was signing, and if he scanned the contents of these, Johann was banking on the fact that he didn’t read the ones he signed before so he wouldn’t notice anything was wrong.
“I don’t know what to tell you, detectives,” Lt. Tetterton boomed while his pen flew over the documents. “We can’t just give you custody of Mr. Staten. As you said, he, and the rest of that goddamn rabble, are not being detained. They also don’t have any standing warrants. There’s no custody to speak of.”
“But, sir—” the man tried to cut in.
“By all means,” Lt. Tetterton pushed on, “your boy could walk out of this building after his testing—if he has clean results, I might add—and go with you, and you be the one to accompany him surrendering at the BID base beside HQ. Except for the fact that the BID told us to keep him here. We will stop him if he tries leaving. We can discuss the legalities by then. But your boy has no desire to leave, that’s why he submitted himself for testing.”
“Sir, they still haven’t taken jurisdiction—”
“Yeah, yeah,” the lieutenant said, waving at them in frustration, “we’re just going in circles. That’s why I used the word ‘told’, not ‘ordered’ or ‘instructed.’ You’re still not taking him with you. If you’re going to surrender him to the BID, why do you want to take him away now?”
“Err…we’re worried about him. He’s the—"
“Don’t try pushing the goodwill of Hall now, this is not connected to anything I owe him, and you tell him that when he awakens. Poor guy, bunged up by an Adumbrae.” Lt. Tetterton stopped writing for a couple of seconds and somberly shook his head. Then he said, “The BID is coming to get your boy. They’re riding a helicopter because they couldn’t get through those goddamn lunatics rioting. They'll be here soon. Talk to them if you want.”
The two detectives looked at each other, at a loss on what to do next.
“I don’t even know why you’re asking me instead of the captain. Although, I’m sure he’ll have the same ans—Johann?”
“Sir?” He stepped forward, trying to keep his expression neutral.
Lt. Tetterton flipped through the papers. “Some of the names here look familiar.”
He held back the impulse to nervously gulp. “I think some of them are relatives of the people we tested, so they have the same surname. That must be it, sir.” The lieutenant accepted his explanation and finished signing the papers. He still had the backup explanation that he spilled coffee on the first copy of signed certificates—again, recalling what happened with Dr. Cornelio—which was why he had to reprint them. Thankfully, he wasn’t forced to use that excuse; he didn’t want to look incompetent if he could help it.
“Here you go, Johann,” said Lt. Tetterton. “Get this over with so you guys can finish processing Mr. Staten’s group when the BID picks them up.” He nodded at the two detectives. “This is out of my hands. As for that other thing…”
Johann had no other excuse to stay. He walked out of the office and into the lobby, leaving the door open. He braced himself for the lieutenant’s yells, telling him to close it. But Lt. Tetterton seemed to be discussing another important topic with the detectives. He turned left, out of view of his boss’s office, but still as close as possible to the door. He folded his arms and pretended to intently look at the TV, which was constantly tuned in to a news channel.
“Investigation…don’t go around…allegations.”
The lieutenant was very loud in contrast to his short stature, yet Johann couldn’t make out what he was saying. And there was no way he could hear the responses of the detectives. All the offices having glass walls meant he couldn’t get any closer without being spotted, and had to hide behind the huge fern in front of the neighboring room.
“The mayor…BID will take care…don’t bother.”
Johann frowned. I’m going to try another pass. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Mimi leave her post at the front desk and raise the volume of the TV with the infamous remote that only she knew how to operate. She normally didn’t leave her spot, eternally playing solitaire on her computer in between work. He stopped and looked at the news.
“Hey, it’s the leader of…whatchamacallit? The PCM, yeah,” said one of the people sitting in the lobby, probably waiting for Mimi to process his papers.
Auron Cohenn, a fairly unassuming man, led a massive rally that occupied the whole road. The people behind him had banners and placards full of anti-Adumbrae slogans. They also flew many yellow flags with the fist symbol of their organization. Reporters kept up with the PCM leader, battering him with questions.
“The will of the people shall prevail!” Auron shouted, holding up his fist. The horde echoed his call. Several hundred fists pumping into the air. “And the will of the people is to take matters into our own hands. We are left with no choice since the government is unable, is unwilling to keep us safe. We, the people, will protect this city!”
Fists rose once again in tandem with cheering.
One of the reporters off-screen asked him a question, to which Auron responded, “PCM members are innocent. They were hunting for Adumbrae, following suspicious activities at EFU Medical Center. The arrest of the mayor proves what the PCM has long known: gathering Adumbrae-related patients in that hospital is going to be the bane of this city! A hive of evil!” He grabbed one of the microphones getting shoved to his face. His expression became more impassioned, almost on the verge of tears. “Many, many of our brothers and sisters died, so many. The BID is hiding the true numbers. We shed blood to catch Adumbrae, and the BID is suspecting our people.”
“Mimi, you’re listening to that crazy guy?” Philip, one of the technicians at the lab walked in. She hushed him. “Okay, sheesh. Johann, my man. We need you back—”
“Hang on,” Johann said. Philip raised a brow at him. He nodded at the TV. “That looks like Palmer St.”
“It’s the fault of the SVS!” Auron Cohenn roared at the cameras. “They all survived while dozens and dozens of our members died? It means they are connected to the Adumbrae! And we are going to get them—”
“Holy Mother Core,” Philip gasped.
“—to exact the justice of the people—”
“You’re right. There’s that small pharmacy I pass by every day.”
“—are the Protectors of the City Movement, and we will protect this city!”
“They’re only a couple of blocks away,” said Johann. Were they seriously going to attack a police station? It seemed they were ready to kill, and not just protest. Should he—
The frantic pitter-pattering of heels on tiles jolted all of them. Saffron came running out the corridor that led to the main building. Everyone in the lobby gawked at her, expecting some bad news. She stopped, surprised at all of them. “Eh? Why are you all—?” She shook her head and went inside Lt. Tetterton’s office, pausing for a second to check the door left open. Johann took this opportunity to get closer to eavesdrop. “Sir! Dr. Cornelio’s wife is looking for him again and—”
“Kenneth is becoming a pain in the ass. I don’t think he’s missing. He showed up a couple of days ago, didn’t he?”
“Yes—”
“It’s obvious he just doesn’t want to go home. Don’t forward that call to me. Tell his wife there’s no need to worry. She already filed a missing person report, and the police are doing everything they can to find him, but resources and manpower is currently stretched because—”
“It’s not a call, sir. Professor Deslys is here. She’s making a scene and the captain wants you to talk to her.”
“Another headache,” Lt. Tetterton groaned. “The captain and I know the same thing about Kenneth’s whereabouts—which is nothing. Goddamn this. What do I tell her—Johann?”
Johann was still facing the TV, so he didn’t notice Lt. Tetterton walk out of his office. “Uh, sir. Hello…” he sheepishly said.
“Didn’t I tell you to finish Mr. Staten’s group before the BID arrives?”
“I was just…The news, sir. Look—”
“When I come back, I expect an update.” Lt. Tetterton whipped around and pointed at the two detectives in his office. “And you two. We have nothing more to discuss. But you’re free to stay in my office while waiting for the BID. Tell Ms. Saffy if you want anything to drink.” He then stormed off, huffing in annoyance.
“Johann, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Saffron approached him with a frown. He had an inkling of what she was about to bring up. “Mrs. Deslys kept on insisting someone from our office called her a couple of days ago and told her that Dr. Cornelio reported for work. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
“No…no…” Johann tried to keep his voice even. “You told me we shouldn’t stick our noses in their business.”
“I did. Yes. It’s just that someone opened my notebook. You know, the one on my desk—?”
“Ms. Saffy, look at the TV,” he frantically interrupted.
“What are you talk—? Oh my gosh, is that Mrs. Churros down the street?”
Indeed, it was the famous churreria of the city, second only to the donut shop right across their station of the top places police officers hang out for coffee and pastries. The camera captured two cop cars parked outside the small store, and Johann had a sinking feeling he knew what was going to happen next. Is this what having Deen’s power feels like? he darkly joked to himself as all of them, including Saffron, stared in horror at the large group of protesters becoming crazed at the sight of cops.
One lone PCM member, carrying a flaming object, broke away from the group. Cameras followed him. He threw the thing he carried—a Molotov cocktail—at the cop car. It shattered the window, and exploded inside the vehicle, setting it ablaze.
The rest of the PCM horde took it as some sort of signal as they raised their fists into the air and started to run, knocking down the TV news crews in their midst. The view of the camera became full of trampling feet and was suddenly cut off.
“They’re coming here…” Johann whispered.
Amber Deen Leska
Where did Sis run off to? This should be her thing. Amber Deen Leska didn’t let her annoyance show on her face, acting like she had been facing cameras and microphones her entire life. She even did a few poses. Erind will certainly tease me if she sees my pictures in a magazine.
“Ms. Amber, are you going to take over your family business someday since your elder sister expressed no interest in it?”
“My sister changes her mind a lot,” Deen replied. She felt weird answering to the name ‘Amber’ since Erind called her ‘Deen’ all the time. Then she felt weird about feeling weird about it. And then she felt weird being asked about her plans as...a normal person. “I’m sure Sis will come around and change her decision.” She definitely won’t. She'll kill me when she sees this interview.
The reporters were relentless in their questions, excited to find something different amid political turmoil and Adumbrae fears. She understood what they were going for. The people needed plenty of distractions, and the sister of a local mini-celebrity and daughter of an influential tycoon seemed to be the perfect feature piece.
“What do you think of our new mayor?
“Do you have any political aspirations someday?
“Can you share your experiences in law school?”
“How about a future career in showbusiness or the modeling industry, Ms. Amber?”
Deen politely shook her head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for acting. And I’m not so sure with modeling, I’m not that confident with my looks.” She gave them a sly smile, indicating she was joking. All the reporters laughed. She was certain Erind was also going to laugh if she was here, but for different reasons. She terribly regretted not being pushier with forcing her to come to this event.
“Can you tell us about your love life, Ms. Amber?”
“Any boyfriends? Relationships?”
And here we go. It took them a while to get to this annoying line of questioning. Deen absolutely hated this. Why was it that every time there was an attractive woman, people felt the need to ask her if she had a boyfriend? Was there a requirement to be attached to a guy? Her sister also detested this, which was why she ended up juggling multiple boyfriends—the extreme end of the spectrum. Probably a weird power thing for her. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Law school is hard enough as it is, and I don’t want any distraction.”
After five more minutes with the reporters, which stretched like a hundred years of annoying questions about which actors she thought were handsome, Deen finally escaped, thanks in part to a rumor that a new wave of riots was starting, and the reporters rushed to ask the new mayor about it.
Thanks in part? What a distasteful way of putting it, she berated herself.
Was she starting to become callous with violence?
Maybe…
Deen walked away from the gathering of socialites and political supporters of the mayor and headed to the lofty wall windows at the end of the event hall. No one followed her. She gazed outside to clear her head.
Beyond the beautiful gardens below—a project of the recently arrested former mayor—was a line of police cars and barricades keeping protesters at bay. However, there wasn't much protesting. The people were actually walking away. If they continued their track, they’d intersect with Marshall Avenue. Turning right, they’d reach the hospital. Was that where they were headed? She had no idea where else they could be going.
She tried to focus on each person. They were too far away, so she couldn’t exactly make out their faces. But they all appeared calm. Almost like this was routine. This is becoming normal for them.
The whole city was becoming desensitized to the deaths and destruction around them. It only took a short time. And it was happening to her as well. She no longer cared—assuming she even did in the first place, which she probably didn’t—about the two men she killed several days ago. They were the goons of the 2Ms, yes. They were also a threat to her; they were going to shoot her.
No.
With her Guardian Angel guiding her way, those two weren’t a threat. Not in the slightest. They were simply normal humans that she killed. Gabe didn’t tell her to kill them. She could’ve knocked them out. She didn’t know why she did that.
She expected to be tormented by their pained expressions as they slowly choked to death while she crushed their throats. But there were no nightmares. No sleepless nights. It might be because she was preoccupied with making up her failure to protect Erind that she simply shut out anything else. Truth be told, their deaths probably made the world a slightly better place...was what she preferred to tell herself.
What did she care about? People…or saving people? She was afraid to delve deeper into herself.
“Hmmm?”
Someone among the passing protesters caught her eye. She whipped out her phone and zoomed in on the person with her camera. The image was still not super clear, and other people were blocking the view, but the man was taller than others around him so she had a good look at his slightly blurred face. He was wearing an uncommon maroon beanie even under the sweltering noon heat.
“That man…” She let out a minute growl which surprised even herself. “He’s one of the people who chased Erind.”
Before coming to this event, Deen passed by the pub Erind stayed in last night. Erind did tell her not to bother finding the hoodie she left behind, but there was no danger of raising any suspicion. Deen was looking for her friend’s hoodie, that's all. There, she found out that Erind’s story about a barfight breaking out, which was supposedly why she left in a hurry and forgot about her hoodie, wasn’t true.
The bartender told Deen that PCM members tried to capture Erind for some reason, but he and a customer stopped them so she could escape. He had the injuries to prove it. As far as he knew, no hoodie was left behind.
It made her blood boil. Under threat of getting sued, backed by name-dropping the new mayor, sprinkling in a few intimidating legalese, the bartender showed her the video from the barely working security camera of the shop.
The footage was grainy, but the large man with a maroon beanie was distinctive enough to stick in Deen’s mind. If she had to guess what happened next, they continued chasing Erind. And then she was probably forced to fight. Obviously, she couldn’t reveal the truth to Deen, which was why she made up a fake story.
Deen’s earlier assumption was that Erind might’ve badly beaten up the PCM members, got their blood on her hoodie, and had to throw it away. But if this man was still walking around with no visible injuries, then Erind probably tried her best not to hurt them. Good job, Erind. I’m proud of you.
But where did the hoodie go? For sure something else happened. If Erind didn’t hurt them, then they might’ve done something to her. Deen was determined to find out the truth.
If they hurt her…
“Miss, would you like—eek! I’m sorry. Is something wrong, miss?”
In her deep thought, Deen didn’t notice a waitress approaching to offer her drinks. She must’ve had her face twisted in anger. “Nothing…nothing’s wrong. And no drinks, thank you. I’m on a diet.”
She briskly marched out of the hall, burying her fear of her sister’s wrath for suddenly leaving. She didn’t even want to think of an excuse now; she’d worry about that later. Her focus was on chasing after the man with the maroon beanie cap.
She went out the back of the main building of the city hall, going to the parking lot behind it. Her car was parked somewhere in the middle. She was lucky she arrived and got a spot before the rallies clogged up the roads.
It was so hot that no one was standing in the parking lot. There were a few people by the surrounding buildings. Would they be able to see inside her car? Probably not. And the car windows, while not heavily tinted, should be enough cover. At any rate, now wasn’t the time for modesty.
She opened the trunk of her car and took out a duffel bag. Extra clothes and shoes were inside it, the same ones she wore when she went to do her little investigation at the pub.
Then she got in the backseat, quickly took off her peplum top, ripping it in her haste, and put on a plain black shirt. Tutting at the torn blouse before shoving it in the bag, she thought, I’ll just buy another one like this. Next, she kicked off her heels and wiggled out her pencil skirt, taking care not to tear anything this time. The pants she put on were just discounted department store jeans, not the high-waisted skinny luxury denim brands she usually wore.
To finish her getup, she donned on a horrendously bland hoodie—she got the idea to buy one from Erind—and tucked her thick blonde hair into it. Instead of putting the hood up, which just invited suspicion, she put on a baseball cap that she…borrowed…from her sister’s room. It was probably a gift from her boyfriend who played in a Major Leagues team.
Deen had a huge grin on her face when she got out of the car. Inexplicably, she felt different in this outfit. I’m supposed to be different because I’m in disguise. But there was a different feeling of being different that she couldn’t put her finger on. So different...Was this what it felt like not having a spotlight on her all the time?
She turned right. “Am I about to do something stupid?”
Gabe lazily rotated in the air. Its eyes were tightly closed. It ruffled its feathers a bit but didn’t utter a word.
“I’m going to take that as ‘no.’ Deen-solo-mission is a go.”
