Factory Town had quite the turbulent night, and the day that followed was no less absurd. Another one of its streets was disturbed by a violent quake. The source had been in a sparsely populated area so there hadn’t been many victims, but for the same reason, the incident remained shrouded in mystery.
Most would’ve forgotten all about it by the next day, but with how large the police force that had been mobilized was, the rumors continued to spread like wildfire. Unfortunately, it would be a long time before the truth came out as even those handling the investigation failed to understand what was happening.
"As if those goddamn cyborgs weren’t enough. Now we have to deal with a new type of freaks."
Steam slowly rose from a large paper cup. The man holding it wore the blue uniform of a police officer, the badge hanging on his chest confirming that fact. Going by the belt struggling to keep his round belly in place, he obviously had one too many doughnuts.
The potbellied cop stood beside a barrier that surrounded a certain building, the yellow tape covering it a clear sign that entry was prohibited. Though his job was to guard it and watch who came in and out, three days had already passed since the incident. Barely anyone came by after that long, which meant he was just stuck keeping watch alongside the drones.
"Feels like the world really is ending this time..."
Another cop sipped from his cup and sighed. This one was the opposite of his overweight partner, looking like his pants would fall if he didn’t tighten his belt enough.
"Yeah, right." The fat cop scoffed. "Heard it at least fifty times in the last thirty years."
"Back then, we didn’t have a bunch of freaks who could fly and fart fire, did we?" The skinny one argued back.
"Touche." The fat cop remained silent for a few seconds then heaved a long sigh. "What a waste."
His skinny partner raised an eyebrow.
"This hero who gets herself killed." The fat one shared something through his NIM. "With a face like that, why would she ever bother with the whole hero schtick?"
"C’mon, man," The Skinny cop grimaced. "She isn’t even half your age."
"Hey," The fat one smirked and raised his cup. "Eighteen and above, remember?"
He tried to take a sip but suddenly jerked back, the paper cup slipping from his hand and spilling its contents on the floor.
"Ffffucking damn it! How is it still so hot!!?"
"Haha, serves you right."
As the skinny cop laughed, the sound of tires skidding to a stop caught their attention. Their expressions changed as soon as they saw it was not one of theirs and the fat one’s mood from bad to worse.
"If it’s another goddamn reporter I will-"
The words got stuck in his throat right after the door opened. The car wasn’t much to speak of, so one couldn’t be wrong in assuming its driver was a nobody as well, but when the police commissioner came out of the passenger seat, they had to do a double-take.
"Commissioner Evans! Sir!"
The two cops quickly stood at attention and saluted, not paying any attention to the person who came out of the other side.
"Good work today, officers. I assume you have faced no trouble?"
Jordan Evans, Neo-Vatra’s Police Commissioner, was a tall man, reaching well beyond 190 centimeters. With broad shoulders and a well-toned physique that couldn’t be hidden under his custom-tailored suit, one might easily mistake him for a professional athlete at his prime. The white that had touched his hair and well-trimmed beard revealed the truth, however, and though he was nearing retirement age, the air surrounding him was still as oppressive as ever.
"No, sir!" The fat one spoke, visibly sweating. "Only a few reporters and some nosey brats."
Saying no more, he began walking toward the yellow tape. The skinny cop went and pulled one of the stands aside, praying that the spilled coffee would go unnoticed. When the commissioner passed through without saying anything, the pair breathed in relief, but then they glanced at the mess they had made and froze once more.
Someone was crouched a short distance from the barrier. A young woman, from the looks of it. She was a stark contrast to the Commissioner, being short and thin, dressed in clean but messy clothes, and with hair never touched by the hands of a stylist.
In a way, it felt like she had just crawled out of bed, and that statement might as well be true, seeing as she was wearing a pair of slippers instead of shoes. What’s more bizarre, however, was the thing she was holding in her hands. It might as well be called a relic of a forgotten era, as no one in this day of age still uses paper for anything.
The young woman was holding a sketchbook with one hand and scribbling furiously with the other. Every few seconds she would raise her head to stare at the paper cup then turn back to the page and continue scribbling.
The two cops stared at her for a few seconds, then the fat one seemed to come back to his senses, clicking his tongue as he walked over.
"Young lady, can I help you with something?" He spoke between gritted teeth. "This is a crime scene, if you hadn’t noticed. You should-"
The young woman suddenly looked up, almost giving the fat cop a heart attack. Although she was looking straight at him, her eyes were hidden behind a pair of large, round glasses which had turned white due to light reflecting on them from an odd angle.
"What are you doing, Clair?"
The Commissioner’s firm voice sent chills down the two cops. Only when the young woman jumped to her feet and ran toward him did they realize she was the one being addressed.
"I’m sorry!" She cried while pushing herself past the skinny cop who was about to close the barrier again.
"We’re here to work." The commissioner let out an exasperated sigh. "I need you to focus."
"I... I’m sorry..." The young woman bowed her head repeatedly. "Focus. I will try."
Saying nothing else, the Commissioner heaved another sigh and walked toward the building’s garage, which was left wide open. The young woman followed after him, still looking a bit startled. The two cops watched them go, and once they disappeared into the building, the fat one turned to his partner.
"Why would the Commissioner visit a crime scene days after the fact?"
His partner didn’t respond, however. After a few seconds, he turned around, his face looking ghastly pale.
"That... was that Clair Hines?" He asked.
"Clair Hines! The comic book artist!" The skinny cop exclaimed. "She wrote several of the biggest titles in the last decade! The movies based on her works are international hits."
"Whoa there, calm down." The fat cop raised his hands in front of him. "You know I’m not into all that nerd crap."
"Listen, I get it, she’s a big artist or something. But why the hell was she with the Commissioner? And why did he bring her here in the first place?"
"I don’t know, but there is one thing all her works have one thing in common." As he spoke, an excited smile slowly formed on the skinny one’s face. "All of them are said to be based on true stories!"
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Today’s Chapters were a little late. Sorry about that!