Dusk fast approached the endless metropolis of Edinburgh, the vastitude of city lights glittered to life as the dark began to envelope the earthly establishment. Life was bustling. Engaged, unremarkably in its mundane routine. The sameness of it all exhausted the adventurous soul's enthusiasm to naught. Same goes for the tired masses of uniformed men that lethargically taped a scene of crime away from keen onlookers, their minds long lost the glamour of police-work, having grown used to their gritty work.
Amongst the many, stood a man with an black overcoat and a striking black and blue muffler wrapped around his neck, that being the only part of his attire having any other colour but black. His steely blue eyes were directed to a paper clipped onto a clipboard, a cigarette clenched between his lips as he silently read with a bored expression. He sighed, handing back the clipboard to his subordinate, and pushed back his white bleached hair away from his forehead.
Another day, another case, yet somehow the routine never really changed. By now, even the faces of the victims and the culprits appeared the same to this man, the Deputy Chief of Edinburgh's Northern Quadrant's Police. Yes, Mathew Belmont was tired, not of his work but of its consistency in presenting the sameness he has come to abhor. Have the culprits no imagination whatsoever? Could they not commit a crime in a more elaborate fashion which he might actually enjoy cracking? Or were they one of the many copy cats of the original, unable to outgrow of their absurd fascination and even do the exact same mistakes as the original did?
Mathews didn't even bother to indulge in the details of this case; a repetition of the same expressed differently for the sake of making it seem a variant. Which only made it more of an eye sore for him.
Why did he even come out in the middle of the night? He had become tired of hearing the culminates of the cases he himself handled, flagrantly embellished which had been entertaining till they too bored him excessively.
It was the same depressing rigmarole, more or less, tragic loves that came to bitter ends, a heroic duel for prospective lover with the victor sailing away with his prize leaving the loser with his brains bashed out of his head. It had the same gist more or less, if not the same scenario, it certainly led to the same old, cliched conclusion.
Mathews couldn't help but roll his eyes over it. He was more than glad to have been born and lived his youth sensibly and with less aggression. He had a firm conviction that it were the abundance of these 'little feelings' of people that made them do crazy shit.
The sardonic inspector was hardly wrong whence deprecating upon his social peers or society. He was drained of any glimpse of happiness, a constant scowl a part of his impeccable demeanour. Silence and discretion was what he was notable of, and likewise, feared of, for, one never quite knew what ran in Mathews mind.
It would be well they didn't, a lethal blow it would be on their minuscule minds.
Mathews took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke through his lips, white swirls of smoke rising in the cold night's air.
"Deputy Belmont, we have a interesting turn of events."
"It better be."
"We caught a suspicious looking figure looming at the crime scene and seeing us, they made a run for it. Unlucky for her -"
"Her you say? Interesting indeed." Mathews interposed drily. Certainly his men had gone mad from boredom.
The enthusiastic patrolling officer was undaunted by this, only hesitated for but a few milliseconds before continuing in the same vigour. "Ahm —- yes, well, unluckily for her, we were too fast to be outrun. Though when we interrogated her, she only said, 'It's Belmont I'm here for.' Well, what do you make of that?"
What did he make of it? Mathews dropped the dying cigarette down on the ground and crushed it under his feet. A smile grew on his lips, for a faint second, the rush of excitement pleasing to his bored mind. Finally, a breakthrough from this lethal routine! He had to applaud himself for surviving it without going half mad. He gruffly told the patrolling policeman to take him to her. Oh, what light flickered in that underling's eye! The bells of appreciation and congratulations rung in his ears but sadly for naught, for their beloved Deputy Chief of Police was renowned for being extremely cold and deprecating of sloppy work, with not a shred of kindliness to be exuded from him even by mistake.
Near their stationed cars, calmly stood the mentioned girl, haughtily rather, her black eyes shooting towards Mathews as he neared. The intensity of black reminded him of an ephemeral abyss, endlessly tortuous and foreboding. There was a glint in her eyes, as recognition formed in those black orbs, the red lips forming the articulation of her words.
Mathews stood a few feet away from her, nonchalantly with his hands in his pockets, his half lidded eyes lazily taking in the features and aspects of the girl. Who, was no more than a teenager, piercings at her right brow and along her right ear cartilage, her hair jet black with a few purple highlights and she too, delectably was dressed in all black. Studded black jacket with a boy band logo imprint on her shirt along with tight jeans and long black boots, yes Mathews knew she must be one of those nonsensical girls that couldn't find anything better but to fawn over any guy that look celebrity-drool worthy.
"Anything I can do for you?" Mathews interposed, being irked by the awkward silence that ensued between them both.
Apparently, each scrutinised the other.
"I'd like to be your immediate junior, Deputy Chief!" A heart salute and a sparkle of enthusiasm wiped away the lacklustre from her face immediately.
Definitely one of those obnoxious kids horribly mistaken of the existence of their nonexistent capabilities.
"Kindly take this girl away, Officer."
The girl immediately wailed in protest and flailed her arms and legs about her wildly, trying her very best to have her frenzied kicks and punches land onto the officers that held her. Faithfully, they resisted, more so in fear of Belmont's tyranny.
"Aidan Forrest!"
The colour drained from Mathews face, as recognition dilated his pupils with horror. How could a stupid teenager know that name? Did she have any connection to that fatal personality, that abhorred, sinister entity that embodied the secrets of the deep, dark web of the underworld.
A name dreaded to be breathed out without being reduced to convulsive tremors.
"Inspector?" The two officers looked at their startled superior who immediately regained his composure.
His dark orbs lifted to the arrested, hopeful girl's face. A face glowing with unyielding determination, such strength, such stead, sickeningly reminded him of a rosy forsaken paradise.
"Bring her to my car, Officer."
He had said gruffly, turning away to walk towards his car, unconsciously stroking his clean shaven chin and jawline. Questions spurred in his head, all concerning to that big gun he had wanted to track down, not for having a few medals of honour, but more so for the thrill of the chase. Imagine, the endless, cold nights in frustration of impeding danger, the adrenaline rushed milliseconds of ricocheting bullets dodged and borne gallantly, the several hours of nerve racking unravelling. It was all he craved for, like an obsession, a madness he can't reach.
Clemency is a sickness for an ambitious, fiery soul wanton to reach far beyond the aspired goals set by the centuries past and present.
He wanted glory, he wanted excitement, he wanted history made and history to mould him to something unprecedented, unimaginable even by his wildest dreams.
Mathews waited absentmindedly with his hands gripping and releasing the steering wheel. The girl in question knocked on the windshield before opening the passenger door and slipping next to him. Her dark brown eyes rested unrelentingly on Mathews, a mixture of admiration and warmth, which irritated him further as his eyes met hers.
What sickening familiarity!
"We'll drive a nice way ahead as you'll start answering a few of my questions." He tried not to let his annoyance trickle in his tone but a hint of it was unmistakably notable.
"Interview for recruitment I'd like to hope."
Deep, raspy yet sweet, if it were flavoured, it would definitely be blueberries or raspberries.
"Hope all you can kid."
"First question please!"
He grunted and rolled his eyes; that was exactly why he hated dealing with youngsters. They never understood the gravity of situations, thanks to the shrinkage of their already deficit brain with the smart phone abuse.
No wonder he were a misanthropist.
"I wonder what series got you brainwashed into thinking detection and sleuthing is all spotlights and glamour. Well, it ain't, I'd kindly advise you to keep those ludicrous fantasies from being brutally crushed."
Mathews had subtly hissed at the end of his reprimand, his cold, blue eyes directed at the younger audience as the car stood at the traffic signal.
"I believe I haven't got the question I'm supposed to answer, Mr. Belmont." Her eyes held that stern, determined glow as she stared him down.
Unrelenting, unyielding, the two held the other's gaze in thick, heavy silence, the tension sparking in between them both. Challenge was thrilling for Mathews, defiance in the face of authority was relishing, this kid was like a conglomeration of it all; utter, total chaos, not of the confused, teenage sort.
But of the kind that was distant, untouchable, unutterable.
"Got no idea who you're dealing with, do you?" He asked blandly.
"Frightfully a lot."
"Brilliant, then may I drop you at the next bus stop?" A disarming, charming smile was thrown at her direction.
"Your office is much closer than that."
"Is it?" He asked wilfully.
"Oh, definitely, if we just steer this way—" at which point, she yanked at the steering wheel to herself.
"Fuck!" Was his exclamation as the car veered on two wheels to the left, turning sharply and almost on the brink of tumbling over.
"You—-" he bit his tongue, holding back his elaborate, obscene vocabulary.
"Are just the one for being your immediate junior, whatever position that is." She inserted, laughing gaily, an outcry of victory seeing that composed Mathews resting his forehead on the steering wheel.
Indeed, it was won. For her, it was a victorious conquest.
She looked amusedly at him, her eyes resting on that ruffled, white head of his. Oh how she craved for adventure, an expedition to tear apart her mundane normalcy to shreds. Who could be more exemplary for such a destruction than he?
It has been ever so long. Oh, such a long, long wait.
"What's your name?" He mumbled in defeat, his eyes closed as he remained in that position. Perhaps he had yet to recover from the shock.
"Kacy Jones."
"I, with dread, welcome to Edinburg's Northern Quadrant's Police Force as detective Jones."
Never had he been so mortified in his entire life on being so easily bended. So amendable, it appalled him to no degree, stunned by the ease with which she gained her goal. But perhaps Mathews could put that unbendable resolve to his use. Perhaps, she may claim to be a more purposeful asset than he can envision. Minus the annoying way she got under his nerves, she was compatible. How he could tell, he wasn't sure himself, his wounded ego might be concocting assuring confabulations for all he knew.
With clenched jaws and an air of irritation clouding around him, he drove in silence, royally ignoring the sunny sunshine of Kacy beside him. The entrance to the police headquarters presented with the usual disarray; police officers rushing to and fro everywhere, piles of paperwork rushed hitherto and from every corner phones rang. Mathews airily entered the storm of work, bombarded by a few officers with hasty greeting and hurried reports of insignificant crimes. He barely heard the context of most. Kacy followed diligently, her eyes glittered with admiration at the coordinated chaos of the force. One wonders about it's efficiency.
Narrow, low ceiling corridors snaked through the depths of the building, the lighting growing scantier as they ventured further. The noise of the entrance became distant, silence crept into the still air. The people were less, only the sharp, rapping of high heels were heard, that distinctly belonging to the head of the Northern Quadrant's police force, Ms. Dianne Danville. Mathews stiffened minutely. Her rounds were dreadful, she was like a whirlwind that sent even the most orderly asunder with annihilated self-esteem.
Kacy, oblivious of incoming danger, was enamoured by the structure of the building, the air of secrecy the very walls effused, the hushed atmosphere holding many mysteries waiting to be unravelled. On either side the corridors were peppered with stoic, wooden doors, one of which were a storeroom of paperwork.
The rapping of heels grew louder, his unease peaking as he shoved Kacy into one of those storerooms and told her to stay quiet as he slammed the door upon her.
"Ah, Deputy Chief Mathews, how do you do? Fancy seeing you here." Dianne drawled through red lips, in a lisping tone that was atrocious to his ears.
"Very well, Superintendent, I see you're in good spirits as always." He smiled, forcibly.
Dianne smiled disarmingly, her grey eyes dying to catch his attention. Obnoxious rumours were there for a reason, the hottest of which was that she had once been, and might still be, an avid skinny lover of such a cold, heartless man. Though assumed to have sprung up out of desperation of amusement, it might not be so false as one may think.
"I'm afraid to report that I've yet to make progress with the Forrest case, ma'am." Mathews spoke blandly, having caught her eyes unnervingly boring into him.
Dianne was a total catch, no doubt, she was capable of satisfying the whims and fancies of practically any man who wasn't Mathews Belmont. He just hated the plasticine quality to her, the finesse of her dyed purple hair set perfectly straight flowing about her heart shaped face with its aquiline nose and almond shaped eyes, the disarming shade of red making her fuller lips look luscious and wholesome. Always at her best, Ms. Dianne Danville was a model of beauty.
Not his kind, not that any existed in his mind to begin with.
"Ah." She said, after a few seconds of locking gazes with him, in hopes of stirring something within him.
Though who was she to know that there was nothing there to stir, Mathews being an empty carcass of human desolation.
"Indeed. If I may?"
She nodded her assent and went ahead on her inspection. The heels rapping away, his eyes following his wondrously-figured superior just long enough that she turned and disappeared. Catching him, she smiled and waved girlishly before vanishing.
Dreadful creatures, he concluded.
Mathews immediately paced towards the storeroom he shoved Kacy in and flung the door open.
Kacy Jones was no where to be found.
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