Rain poured down, bouncing off slate shingles to mix with the sewage water soaking the stone of the alleyway. Gripping my side, I tried to keep pressure on the knife wound to my ribs, my other hand weakly gripping my colt. The gun wobbled in my grip, arm growing heavy as gravity pulled it to the ground. Blood seeped out between my fingertips, staining my navy-blue waistcoat an odd purple. I tipped my head back, uncaring of my hair being submerged in the puddle as I closed my eyes. 

If I survived this, I was going to kill Senior Inspector Lyall. 

~*~ 

The police department in Grimwood was diminutive in size compared to the larger nouveau buildings of the city. It was sandwiched between two recently built skyscrapers, towering over the three-floor building. Built entirely of stone, the thick cement cinder blocks were rough to the touch and seemingly impervious to erosion. Columns held up the entrance, slightly cracked with age as they carried the weight of a large, decorative carving that bore the likeness of a pantheon of heroes from the war. 

When one entered the building, they would instantly be met with a grandiose reception hall that seemed large due to its pitched ceiling. The receptionist sat at a wide oak desk with a phone hooked up next to a typewriter, and a newer glass screen separating her from civilians. She was a small woman, old enough that her skin seemed thin as rice paper and crinkled just as easily. She looked up at me over her wire-framed spectacles from her perch on a wooden office chair. 

 “You’re rather tall,” she stated, voice sharp and clipped. 

“Yes ma’am,” I replied with my best toothy smile, fighting the way my shoulders instinctively hunched. “Never went hungry.” 

She let out a snort. “What’s your business, kid?” she asked, straightening out a few files on her desk with skeletal fingers. I almost laughed at the address. Did I really look so young to her? 

“I am the new inspector for Homicide Team One.” I pulled out my badge, bringing it close to the glass for her to see. It had come in the post to my new, cramped apartment in the city a few days ago. “Inspector Willem von Foxx.” 

She looked at it for a few moments, her expression bleeding skepticism. When she decided it wasn’t a forgery, she took the phone off its holder and dialed a number. “Captain, your recruit is here,” she said to whomever was on the other side of the call. “Please come down to retrieve him.” 

She ignored me after that, motioning for the next person in line to come up. A person nearly hip-checked me as they pushed past to talk to her, my bad leg wobbling from the impact. I moved over to a spot that made me less obtrusive and waited. Others continued to rush around, civilians coming up to the reception in hopes of getting through to have their voices heard. One of the doors leading out from the back opened with a sharp creak. 

“Mr. von Foxx.” The woman who called out to me was broad-shouldered and about a head or so shorter than me. She was tanned, curly chestnut hair pulled up into a braided bun with her bangs framing her square face. She was perhaps in her thirties, dressed in the all-blue regalia of the Grimwood police with the extra markings on her shirt collar that marked her as higher ranking. Medals decorated her chest, gleaming in the lamplight. I stood at her call and her face lit up with a grin that made her shine like the sun. “I’m Captain Alivia Doyle of the Homicide Unit. It is wonderful to meet you.” 

She stuck her hand out for me to shake before pulling me along into the inner workings of the station. Officers bustled around, some stopping to glance at me as we passed by, others saluting to Captain Doyle. I was a giant among them which was probably why I caught so much attention. I had yet to see someone who reached higher than my brows. 

“There’s no need to hunch your shoulders.” Captain Doyle seemed to notice my poor posture. “Height is a good intimidation factor. I wish I were a bit taller myself.” 

I let out a hum in response. We walked up several flights of wooden stairs that creaked under my boots ominously. Some of the boards rocked under my feet, my leg wobbling and causing me to grip the railing tightly. 

“They need to be replaced,” Captain Doyle said, avoiding a step that made a sharp creak when I stepped on it. “Just don’t have the budget this quarter, sadly. God knows we need it.” 

She went silent for a few moments, lips pressed tightly together, and nose scrunched. She glanced at me once before looking away to stare out one of the windows in the stairwell. 

“It’s not often that someone of your caliber applies for our department,” Captain Doyle finally said. “Former royal guard of seven years. A sub-captain. A possible candidate for captain, even.” 

“I was never a candidate, Captain Doyle,” I replied, gripping the railing tighter. “My partner was.” 

“Even so, I was rather elated when your application came in,” she stated. “Grimwood is growing in size and so is its crime rate. The boost in trade from the new canals has brought more sordid people and our department needs to grow alongside it. We need people like you.” 

“I’m afraid I may be a bit slow to get back to investigating,” I said, giving her and awkward chuckle. “It’s been two years since I last worked on a case.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be like a fish in water.” She gave me a bright smile. “Your uncle vouched for you greatly.” 

That was a statement I could not give a proper response to in any regard, so I stayed silent. She didn’t push any more about that topic. 

When we arrived at the third floor, there was even more chaos than there was downstairs. Several offices lined the halls, filled with officers, civilians, and criminals. It was loud, everyone talking at once, fighting to speak over one another like some discordant symphony. Captain Doyle pulled me over to an office at the end of the hall. The wooden door opened to a large, airy room full of windows that faced the rising sun. It was sectioned off into four areas based on unit, each filled with several desks. Sitting with their legs propped up on one of said desks was a man. 

He was seemingly all muscle, his shirt buttons ready to burst under the strain. His hair was an odd shade of blood red that hung shaggily around his pale, freckled face. Eyes closed and arms behind his head, he seemed to be enjoying a cat nap in the early morning sun that painted his features golden. 

“Wolf, get your muddy shoes off the desk.” Captain Doyle kicked at his feet, causing him to nearly topple out of his chair. The man looked up at her with a glare, eyes like liquid metal in the light. 

“You put me on a stakeout last night and asked me to come in early this morning,” he said. There was a twang to his voice, some foreign accent that leaked out into his words occasionally. “You should expect me to be sleeping, Birdie.” 

Captain Doyle let out a huff, nose scrunched in disgust before she turned her attention back to me. “Inspector von Foxx, this is Senior Inspector Lyall of Homicide Team One. He will be your partner starting today.” 

“What?” Senior Inspector Lyall said, eyes flashing with fury. “You promised—” 

“It is against protocol for you to be without a partner and we are down a man,” she replied. “I held out for a little while, but we need a new officer. We’re understaffed as it is and I can’t leave a recruit on his own regardless of his past experience.” 

“Why can’t you assign him to Reeve?” he asked, rising from his seat with tension lining his shoulders. 

“Because Reeve already has a partner and I don’t follow your orders,” she replied. “If I recall correctly, I am the captain here, not you. I suggest you start listening to me before it becomes a problem. He’s your partner. End of story.” 

She began walking towards the door to leave us alone together. Senior Inspector Lyall’s face had scrunched up in anger, his cheeks beginning to bleed red. “Fill him in on your current case,” she said once she reached the doorway. “I better only receive reports of your wonderful teamwork and cooperation. If not, I’m putting you on suspension.” 

The sound of the door shutting echoed through the room with a sharp finality. Senior Inspector Lyall stared at me, trying to stab me with his eyes. Once again, I placed a smile on my face, holding my hand out for him to shake. 

“While this may not be ideal, I hope we can have an…amiable partnership,” I said. He looked at my hand as if I had just stuck it in a pile of horse shit, lip curled and face contorted. The look he gave when his eyes scanned my face was even worse. 

“Don’t give me a fake ass smile, you prim and proper weirdo,” he said. The muscles in my face stiffened, leaving my smile plastered on like a particularly poorly painted china doll. He let out a scoff. “What, you’ve never had someone tell you that you’re ingenuine as all hell? I suggest you quit while you’re ahead, pretty boy. Unlike whatever cushy department you came from, you aren’t going to last a day here.” 

He stormed out of the office, leaving me standing in the middle of the room like an ice sculpture. 

“Wow,” I let out a laugh. “Screw you too.” 

~*~ 

Uncle Gabriel didn’t attend the ceremony for my promotion. It was to be expected, but it still caused an ache in my chest that I tried my best to bury as far down as possible. Standing on the stage in the navy blue ceremonial uniform, I saluted Captain Lorraine and bowed to Her Royal Majesty. She pinned my new rank to my lapel, wishing me success and demanding I guard her family well. She smiled brightly, glittering with azurite jewels and gold that bedecked her from head to toe like the shining star she was meant to represent. The necklace around her throat had been a gift from my uncle when he expanded his trade further east into Empriczariskya. The blue gem mocked me, a reminder of his influence on everything around me. 

As the crowd swelled with applause for my accomplishment, I stared out at the sea of people almost despondently. No one who knew me had come, not the last sliver of family I had left or the few people who occasionally decided we were friends. 

Had all this been worth it? Freedom and choice with loneliness as its consequence? 

“Congratulations, Foxx.” A hand clasped my shoulder and I turned to see my new partner. Sub-captain Vinson Chu was the golden child of the royal guard. The son of an admiral and a decorated lieutenant in Her Royal Majesty’s Navy as well, he had breezed through the academy like a god on Earth. People whispered of his integrity, his valor, and his leadership skills. It had seemingly been divined that he would one day become the captain. There could not be a better candidate. 

Now, he stood before me in the flesh, raven hair slicked back and sharp face blank of expression. He had a mouth that naturally frowned and thick brows that were always set in a furrow. The monotone quality of his voice only made him seem even more incapable of any form of happiness or levity. 

He would’ve been a great drill sergeant. 

“I hope that our partnership will be amiable and look forward to learning from you,” I replied, putting on my best smile. There was much I could learn from a man like him. A man so unlike myself. 

“We should get along fine,” he stated. “I remember you from the academy. You always beat me in the two-mile run. You’ll be great for pursuits.” 

“It’s my best skill,” I laughed. His mouth twitched slightly in response as if he was holding back his own smile.