“Again.”

The captain glares from across the room, both elbows resting on his tidy desk. He holds up a hand, already anticipating Morgan’s retort. He and Mr. Sharp are standing at attention on the other side of the room. The captain breathes a heavy sigh. “Crow, you may be the newest member of the squad, but your track record showed outstanding skill.” The captain closes his eyes, deep in thought. “Not to mention being recommended by the higher ups,” he comments under his breath.

The early morning rays peeking in through the blinds shed some light on the captain’s desk. Among the files and folders lying on it, Morgan could spy what had annoyed him so much. Damage reports. Complaints. Claims. The captain opens his eyes. His tired but firm gaze rests on Morgan, boring through him like a blade. “So it baffles me how you could show such carelessness,” a hint of contempt escaping his breath. The captain’s eyeline shifts to the side. “Especially. You. Mr. Sharp.” Standing next to Morgan, Mr. Sharp simply nods in response. A statuesque gentleman, he is true to his name; elegantly dressed, polished and keen features, and a piercing look in his eyes, undeterred by the captain’s remarks. A fine specimen of a man. “Apologies, Captain,” is all Morgan could reply. He knew any other response would either be immediately shut down, or merely fall on deaf ears.

Captain Argon Lycruz stands up from his desk, his menacing demeanour belying his stoic expression, the still air of the room intensifying his presence. His sleek, neatly combed, greying hair softly shines in the daylight. “We uphold morals, decorum, safety,” he begins. Morgan already saw it coming. “And that service extends to public property.” He turns to look through the window, his hazelnut brown eyes peering down to the streets below. “If we go around gallivanting, doing as we please, then we’re no better than the rabble we sweep off the streets.” He takes in the scene outside for a brief moment. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

The captain turns around, returning to his desk. “Once was more than I should have allowed. No more chances. Any more slip-ups and you’ll be reduced to a desk job.” He glares at Morgan. “Or worse.” A momentary pause. “Is that clear?” “Yes, sir,” replies Morgan flatly. The captain turns his attention. “Mr. Sharp, I hope you’ll do better as well. For your own sake.” Mr. Sharp bows, “Sir.” Seeing his detectives understand the situation, he nods. Although an inkling told him this wasn’t going to be the last. “Dismissed.” As the two turn to leave, Captain Lycruz calls out, “Mr. Sharp. A word.”

Closing the door behind him, Morgan silently makes his way through the office space, thankful that it isn’t such a long way to his seat. “Another berating, huh?” No sooner had Morgan made it to his desk than Nyx came sliding across to him, mischievously grinning. “I don’t get it,” groans Morgan as he sits down. “I got the job done, didn’t I? I feel like he’s specifically nitpicking on my tiniest mistakes.” He leans back in his seat, letting his head hang. Nyx scoffs, “Uh… I don’t think I’d call that tiny.” He gestures towards the TV. A report on last night’s events is being broadcasted, showcasing not only the broken window, but also the remnants of whatever mayhem occurred within the bar itself. Smashed tables, broken chairs, spills left and right. Morgan shrugs his shoulders, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips to the side, as if to say it couldn’t be helped. “Hey man, I didn’t do all that. The other customers simply got a little …excited.”

“Look, don’t worry about it too much,” reassures Nyx. “You know how the Captain is; a perfectionist.” He starts arranging the pens scattered on Morgan’s desk. “Besides, this is only, like, your second time, right? Third time’s the charm,” he says with a wink. Morgan furrows his brows in confusion, not sure what to make of such a statement. He opens his mouth to retort.

“Cheer up, man. At least he didn’t put you on desk duty, or you’d be nothing more than a filing lackey like Bob over there.” Jack had sauntered up behind him, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he motions to Bob sitting at the corner. A mountain of paperwork surrounds Bob’s desk, but his face is as blank as ever, with nothing but a tiny expressionless smile, as he stares vacantly into the distance. His partner beside him is furiously going through it all without even peeking up from her desk.

“Not yet anyway,” sighs Morgan, rolling his eyes. “What’s up, Jack?” he asks. Jack holds up and waves a few files in his hand. “Just gotta drop these off to Mr. Sharp.” “You came all the way here just to hand them in person?” asks Nyx, smelling something interesting. “Must be something major.” Jack just smiles. “Nothing like that,” he says. “Just taking a little extra precaution.” Jack leans in and lowers his voice, looking around as if to make sure that nobody was listening in. “No one can read your messages if they’re handed over in person.” Nyx sits for a while pondering this. His eyes suddenly widen and he rushes back to his desk at the thought of someone getting through to his own messages. Jack chuckles.

“Mr. Sharp’s still in the Captain’s office. I could pass them on for you if you’d like,” says Morgan, still leaning lazily in his seat. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll pass them to him myself. Just let him know I wa-” Jack’s words are cut off as the sergeant dashes past them, his partner following behind him. “Break-in at Alnico!” he shouts at the bewildered pair, just as the captain’s door swings open. “Crow! Dispatch!” “On it!” He jumps up from his chair and grabs his coat, sliding past Jack. Mr. Sharp was already making a beeline for the stairs.

The two quickly head down and jump into their vehicle as a passing teen, who was just making her way in, promptly waves after them, her long jet-black hair billowing in the wind as the detectives speed off into the city going after the sergeant’s trail, sirens blazing.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy my work.  Zooming through the streets of Ferros, Morgan expertly handles the steering of their standard-issue police maglev. With an arm on the wheel, his other hand remains alert on the gear stick. He can feel the adrenaline coursing through him. And why wouldn’t I? Sure, it has its ups and downs, but you kind of get addicted to this sense of fulfilment. Achievement. More so when you know it’s for a good cause.

“On your guard, Crow.” Mr.Sharp, as if knowing that Morgan isn’t completely paying attention, speaks up. “Mafia.” Morgan perks up at the word. “Seriously? Their trail’s gone cold for months since that last bust. Doubt they’d be so bold to come back out, especially not over at Alnico.” “Intuition,” says Mr. Sharp coolly. He’s piecing together what seems to be a rather large sniper rifle. “Nice,” replies Morgan. “I can always trust you on that.” The buzzing city around them rushes past, their siren silencing most of their surroundings.

A blonde street vendor calling out to passersby, sure of the fact that there would still be some people interested in newspapers or paperback magazines. Street kids showing off their maglev and classic skateboards, attempting to pull off each other’s tricks to try and prove which is better. A smartly dressed man, sweating profusely, whizzes around the crowd, probably running late for work, his mechanical legs springing him across the pavement with every stride. Each uniquely living out their lives in this bustling city that still retains remnants of its past, its residents unwilling to let it all go just yet. All becoming nothing but a blur as the detectives race past them.

They turn one final corner into Alnico Avenue and spot a number of people fleeing the scene, the sergeant hot on their trail on foot. Most have already made it into a van at the end of the street, with just two more lagging behind. “CROW! BRAKE AND FIRE!” shouts Mr.Sharp. He points his rifle through Morgan’s window. Morgan swerves the wheel, drifting the car to the side, and whips out his baton at the same time. He aims it out his open window and fires, propelling the tip at an alarming speed. Simultaneously, Mr. Sharp pushes himself backwards out of his open door, letting the car continue to slide along its path. Allowing the momentum to bring him forward, his rifle still at the ready, locked on to the leading perp. One step. Two. Three. He pulls the trigger without a hint of hesitation. 

BOOM!

The tip fired from Morgan’s baton embeds itself into the building wall ahead, just inches from the face of the first perp, taking them by surprise and stopping them on their tracks. In that exact instance, the perp gets caught and pinned on to the building by the net shot from Mr. Sharp’s rifle. He briskly makes his way towards the masked perp as Morgan repositions his vehicle, which is now facing the other way after sliding 180˚ around. The van with the rest of the perps had already disappeared.

“Ow ow! Stop!” Sergeant Cantis Farrar is apprehending the other suspect, holding him up with his face against the wall, one arm restrained behind his back. “Please, calm down! I don’t want to hurt you!” pleads Cantis, as he continues to twist the man’s arm. “But you’re already hurti-aaAAAA I GIVE! I GIVE!” The sergeant drops him, but keeps his hold on the perp’s arm. “Phew. Glad we could settle that before it got violent.” The sergeant wipes his brow with his forearm while his partner shackles the man.

“Seems like we only managed to catch two of them,” says Morgan, who’d managed to park his car beside the curb nearby. “Better than none. Have some of the uniformed officers cordon the area and secure the perimeter. Sweep the place. Luke and I will bring this guy back for questioning.” His partner looks up at the sound of his name after just placing their suspect into the car.

“Mr. Sharp says this may be tied to the Mafia,” voices Morgan, crossing his arms. He had just finished ordering the other officers to block off the entrance to the building and take statements from witnesses close-by. “Yeah, it probably is.” Luke had rejoined them. “No one would dare touch this place. So, I’d think it couldn’t be anyone but them when it comes to this scale.” Luke peers up at the sheer height of Electrowave Labs towering above them, its pristine visage marred only by the destruction lying at the entrance below. Morgan’s mind flashes back to the events of the previous night. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing that he won’t get an earful for any of this.

Cantis chimes in, “Indeed. We can’t pin anything on them without any conclusive proof just yet, though.” He looks around at the scene before him and shakes his head. “But I’m fairly certain we can at least trust Mr. Sharp’s instincts.” As if on cue, Mr. Sharp arrives with the other felon in tow. A slender frame trudges in front of him, the figure unmistakably that of a lady’s, hunched over such that her hair hid her pale face.

The other three try to decipher their captive’s profile. Having had a closer view, Luke feels a cold sweat run over him. “Gentlemen.” Mr. Sharp brings the woman up to them and pulls on her shoulder to straighten her posture. She lifts her head and her hair falls back, exposing her now unmasked, scowling face. The trio are taken aback at the revelation. Morgan and Cantis look at each other, speechless. Luke gasps, “Oh…”