Passing through more surprised nikeans, they arrived at the lobby to find the Lochen City Officers waiting for them. The grey officer said: “So... foreigner, these are the officers you'll be working with. From what I've been told, you should already be familiar with them.”

Seeing the familiar four, Forge exclaimed: “Oh... it's you guys?”

“I was hoping he wouldn't appear...” whispered Brigitte with an annoyed tone.

“D-Do I... talk to 'em?” Forge asked the grey officer, who responded “Do what you wish...”.

Rob was about to approach Forge, but Ben put his hand on his friend's shoulder and said: 

“Buddy, I think I should try and talk to him first... now, if you excuse me...”

“W-Well... kinda?” replied Forge.

Ben then said: “So... you agreed to the proposal.”

“Yes?” the Man in the Jacket replied.

“That's surprising...” noted Ben.

“I-I'm gonna hav' to work with ya?” Forge asked back.

“...Yes, the higher-ups said so.” replied the dark-skinned nikean.

“D-Do you know what will thes' missins be 'bout?” the now ex-convict asked.

Ben answered: “Not at all.”

“No one knows, huh...”

“I guess not...”

“I-Is this workin' with nikeans thin' somethin' th-that happens often or is it...?” 

“No, never heard of any such case.”

“S-So... will you guys be stayin' here now? Ar-Aren' you from Reglom?”

“We can't leave 'till the higher-ups give us permission. So, until then, we're staying.”

“I see...”

Ben then started saying “Yeah, we...”, but stopped, having noticed something on Forge's face, then asked “What's that on your face?”.

“Wh-Wha'?” asked the Man in the Jacket.

“That. A small, green... streak?” Ben said as he pointed at his cheek.

A small greenish streak could be seen on the side of Forge's face, the same spot where Brigitte punched him and drew blood. The small wound healed long ago, but now a small, greenish and horizontal mark took it's place. 

“Why is it green?” questioned the dark-skinned nikean.

Forge thought for a moment then said:

“M-Must... be a weir' scar... I dunno...?”

“Well, okay...” Ben concluded.

Right then, Rob (wanting to join in the conversation) approached the two, asking:

“Have you ever had a job before?”

“Uhhhhh... Yes, yes I have.” Forge replied, confused at the question.

“What did it involve?” Rob continued his questions.

“Rob, could you ask something relevant, please?” pleaded Ben, annoyed.

Rob replied: “Be quiet, Ben... It is technica-”

“E-Either way, I thank you... You wer' righ', I did get amnisty!!! Thanks a lot.” interrupted Forge.

“Uhhhhm, I-” Rob was about to say, before looking back at an unamused Brigitte staring at him.

“Yes... foreigner... but, technically, it's... conditional.” interrupted Ben.

“Better than bein' caged...” admitted Forge.

“I-Is that... so?” asked Rob, somewhat nervous (mostly because of Brigitte).

The ex-convict continued: “W-Well this whol' workin' for nequeeans thin' is a new experince for me...”

Brigitte, not appreciating the reminder of her current plight, interrupted:

“If you have nothing of importance to say, foreigner, don't say it.”

Forge frowned, saying: “I-I'm just sayin'... workin' for ya... it's weir'.”

“If that's what you wanna call it...” said Brigitte.

“Technically speaking, as a result, you now work for the Jalcap Council Chamber.” Ben explained, trying to change the subject.

Not getting it, Forge asked: “Th-The wha' council?”

“The Jalcap Council Chamber, the heads of the Jalcap region” Rob took the opportunity to reply.

“Th-They lik'... the 'presidents' of that... place?” the Man in the Jacket went on with his questions.

“Not exactly... most regions in Reglom West are led by a Council that oversees the whole area, having the highest authority.” explained Rob.

“Do ya guys... vote?” asked the Man in the Jacket.

Rob began to answer with: “It's a process, you see-”

“Hurry it up with your talk, we've got somewhere else to go.” interrupted the grey-suited officer, who still stood there, waiting for Forge.

“O-Okay...” Forge said, then asked Ben “Hey, uhhh... remember that... monster?”.

“Yes...?” answered Ben.

“It... It sur' was tough wasn' it?”

“Yeah...” Ben replied awkwardly.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them before Forge started saying “W-Well anyways, thanks for your... help, but-”, then noticed something, prompting him to ask “Wait... ar' ya... did ya wash your clothes? Ar-Aren' you wearin' the same outfits as befor'?”.

Maroon replied: “These are just another pair, we have multiple.”

Forge raised an eyebrow, pointing out:

“Huh.... y-you'd think with this whol' 'fancy' thin' you'd hav' a bigger variety.” 

“These are essentially our uniforms, as a matter of fact, foreigner.” explained Brigitte.

“H-How does that work? They all differen'...?” questioned the Man in the Jacket.

Rob clarified: “In Reglom West, each police officer chooses one outfit style that basically serves as their official uniform. The only one they'll wear on duty.”

“Thus, why we wear these...” added Brigitte.

“It's a much quicker choice for the men though...” Rob whispered, snarkily.

“D-Didya... brin' 'nother pair here?” asked the Man in the Jacket.

“Turns out, they were sent here.” explained Ben.

“Sent by them, just in case!!!” Rob, again, took the opportunity to reply.

“...They had your clothes?” asked a very confused Forge.

“That's actually part of our contract... we all signed.” replied Maroon, shrugging.

“That's... never mind...” said Forge, brushing it off, before saying “I hop' that... we can avoid any conflit, maybe even get alon'!!!”.

“I hope for things that'll never happen too.” responded Brigitte, sarcastically.

“Brigitte...” Ben scolded.

The Man in the Jacket scoffed and said: “L-Look, I'm jus' tryin' to be coope-”

“When was the last time you even took a bath?” Brigitte interrupted.

“I... well...” Forge tried but failed to answer, not willing to tell.

Maroon wondered: “Do foreigners even take baths... at all?”

Ben then got closer to Forge and whispered:

“Please, foreigner, I... I suggest you get going, she's not exactly in the best of moods...”

“I can see that...” Forge replied, his eyes half-lidden in tired exasperation.

“Oh and... I've got one more piece of advice for you...” Ben added.

“...What?” asked Forge, somewhat concerned.

The dark-skinned nikean replied with sincerity:

“Take a bath the first chance you get... or at least shave your face.”

“...D-Do I smell bad?” asked Forge, shyly.

Ben was about to answer before Rob interrupted, saying:

“Somewhat. Or... is that just how foreigners usually smell like?”

“Got it, got it...” Forge said sarcastically as he walked away and told the grey-suited officer “Tak' me whe'ever...”.

“Finally...” expressed the blond-haired grey-suited officer, tired of waiting.

While being led down the lowest floor of the HQ, Forge whispered “I don' even smell bad at all righ' now...”, before smelling under his jacket and backing out in disgust, saying “Yes, yes I do...”.

This floor was silent, dusty and desolate, only inhabited by cobwebs, dim ceiling lights, abandoned furniture and the occasional discarded cardboard box. Every single sound echoed through the lonely halls, highlighting it's emptiness.

“This is... the basemen'?” Forge whispered, confused.

Looking down, the floor at first had light-green tiles, but as they got deeper, they were replaced by what looked like raw concrete.

Confused (as usual), Forge asked: “Wha-Why're you takin' me to the basemen'...? Y-You not gonna kill me aren' ya?”

The grey-suited officer groaned at this, replying “No, we're here, the place you'll be staying...”, pointing to an unpainted, rusty riveted metal door.

“O-Okay... so... do I...?” wondered the Man in the Jacket.

“These are your 'temporary living quarters'... Get in already.” explained the officer, with a bothered tone.

“N-No need to get angry...” said Forge as he opened the door and entered, barely seeing anything in the darkness while looking for the light switch.

“They'll be calling you sometime. Now, stay out of trouble... foreigner.” warned the grey-suited officer, with notable aggression on the last word.

“Good night to you too...” Forge replied sardonically as he turned the lights on and closed the door.

Turning around, he beheld his "new room". 

“Oh, what the Uffern...” said Forge as he looked around. 

His new room had a single, very dusty, bed; an even more dusty table; a cobwebbed chair; and a raw concrete floor. The ceiling had two of the usual cup-shaped lights, but only one of them worked. Forge sighed.

“Well... still beats the jail cells. I was under arrest befor'...” he admitted.

Taking off his jacket, Forge removed the cobwebs from the chair and sat on it, thinking about the new situation.

“Yet mor' tim' to wait befor' I... get back hom'... dammit...” Forge thought out loud.

Suddenly, the unkempt chair's legs snapped and he fell on the floor.

“I hate this place...”

The man got up and looked saw the bathroom, noticing it had no door. Entering it, Forge opened the tap, but only a miserable flow dribbled out. Sighing even more, he just stared at the toilet.

“At least... I don' hav' to go in front of others.” he joked.

Forge tried to smell under his shirt, but then noticed the star-shaped “scar” on his chest, still there long after his fight with the robotic centaur, and said: 

“I don' thin' this is ever goin' away now...”

Looking in the mirror, Forge saw his scruffy, dirty face: 

“Woah!!! I... I reelly need to shave soon... no wonder they thin' I'm gross...”