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- Heralds of the True Heir
Detective Mickey sat with his feet kicked up and a cigarette smoldering in his lips. Light filtered into his office through a set of blinds, casting a pensive pattern across his body. The trope wasn’t lost on him, he was well aware that from the outside looking in he’d appear to be one of those hard boiled pulp fiction detectives. Yes, his favorite drink was a whiskey sour. Yes, he wore a trench coat. And, yes, he smoked unfiltered cigarettes. But, he hadn't had a drink in over three years, trench coats were simply practical, and as far as the cigarettes? He wore the patch and was well on his way to quitting. So Detective Mickey sat in the moody evening sunlight, satisfied with the knowledge that the only “dame” that’d be walking into his office was the chief - and the chief was anything but a looker.
Now the chief, he was one of those real straight shooting no nonsense types. He was all business, except for one weakness - wacky tie Friday. The doorway cracked open and Chief Whitesel stepped in with a folder at his side. He was built like a Mack truck. His uniform was clean, the creases pressed, and the only non standard piece of attire was a black tie embroidered with cute little puppy dogs. Without a word of greeting he walked over and set the folder on Mickey’s desk. Mickey smiled.
“What do we got this time, Chief?” Mickey asked as he grabbed the folder, “Another poltergeist? Demonic incursion? Unlicensed necromancy?”
“Potential terrorism, Mick,” The chief said, stepping over to the blinds and pulling them open.
Mickey winced at the harsh light, and shot the chief a dirty look. He stubbed the last half of his cigarette and opened the folder, taking a quick read of the contents.
“Heralds of the True Heir eh?” Mickey said, “Whaddya suppose they mean by that?”
“That’s part of what we want to find out,” Chief Whitesel said, “Most likely delusions of a deranged and dangerous mind… But, regardless, these delusions seem to have amassed a small following, including a mass murderer with a 3000 coin bounty on her head.”
“You mean the Butcher of Hope?” Mickey asked, glancing up towards the chief.
“I wish they’d stop giving maniacs such sensational names, but yes, the Butcher of Hope,” He answered with a sigh, “Along with a person of interest known as Dr. Caustic, and an unidentified third party who seems to share Mr. Nazret’s delusions.”
“Right, mhmm, gotcha,” Detective Mickey said, making a show of nodding.
Silence filled the air followed by the dying gasps of Mick’s cigarette. The chief stood at parade rest, staring out the window onto the streets of Arcadia below.
“You’re normally excited about new assignments, Mick,” He said, “Something wrong?”
Mickey rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s not that I’m not appreciative, Chief, just, well my last assignment was some punk kids throwing firecrackers and some half-blind bat mistook it for weapons-grade evocation magic, and the one before that had me sifting through Chocobo shit to find evidence of illegal transmogrification, which ended up being nothing but a false flag. All I’m saying is, with our recent track record, this is just gonna end up being some troll in their momma’s basement getting too invested into online roleplaying or something stupid like that. When are you gonna throw me another good assignment? I overheard Mallory talking about an epidemic of--”
“Detective Mickey,” The chief cut him off with a sharp tone, “In my department I assign the assignments, whatever case Mallory is working on is my business, not yours. Now I don’t care if this ends up being a damned squirrel given sentience along with an intense and passionate hatred of the crown, you’re going to approach it with nothing less than a smile and a ‘can-do’ attitude… Am I clear?”
“You’re always clear Chief,” Mickey answered.
“Good, besides, you’ll have some company for this one,” Chief Whitesel said, making his way towards the door, “Detective Maldera put in a formal request to pursue the Dr. Caustic lead, and now that the good doctor has seemingly allied himself with our Herald you two have some common ground.”
At this Mickey perked up. He’d worked with Detective Maldera before. The man was a fucking force of nature and Mick respected the hell out of the guy. Even if the assignment turned out to be a shitshow he couldn’t pass on a chance to work with the department’s equivalent of a rockstar. Though, Maldera wasn’t part of the paranormal division, which raised the question…
“Chief, one last question,” Mickey said, “And I’m asking sincerely, but why was I assigned to this, I mean, unless Dr. Caustic is some kind of warlock doctor or something. This whole thing doesn’t seem to have any occult elements.”
Again the chief sighed, “Please read the entire brief before asking questions Mickey, it makes you look like an ass. Anders Nazret’s name didn’t pop up any flags in our database, except for a bounty bulletin posted by an unknown person. Apparently, Mr. Nazret attacked a promising young sorceress and somehow stripped her of arcane potential, now I’m not well versed in thaumaturgy, but that seems like something directly in your wheelhouse.”
Without waiting for a response the chief left. Detective Mickey sighed and leafed through the brief again. None of this seemed very exciting, save for that last bit of information. Stripping someone of their magic potential, now that was an interesting prospect. Obviously not for the victim, but in his seventeen years of service he had never heard of anything like that. And beyond that, what was Maldera’s interest in this doctor character? Mickey threw on his trenchcoat and put the folder in his briefcase. He figured asking Maldera directly would probably be the best bet. Mickey made his way to Maldera’s office, but was stopped by his secretary. Wait… he had a secretary? Mickey knew this guy was hot shit, but when did he get a secretary?
The young lady offered him a smile and said, “Detective Maldera is out for the evening, if you want I can take a message.”
“Ah, no, that’s quite alright, I wouldn’t know what to say,” There was a moment of awkwardness before he continued, “Anyways, I’m Detective Mickey, I was assigned to work this Heralds case with Detective Maldera. You wouldn’t have a way for me to get a hold of him outside of work hours, would you?”
“Ah, he’s asked me not to give out his personal information unless it was an emergency,” She said.
“Right, right, fair enough, I just wanted to have a little chat with him and sync our watches up, so to speak, the last case we worked on we went and got coffee together every morning at 7am sharp,” Mickey lied, they had never once went for coffee, but he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get this investigation rolling.
The secretary tapped her well-manicured fingers against the desk before huffing and saying, “Alright, he’s probably at the boxing gym down the road right now, it’s not my fault if you happen to walk by and see him through the window.”
Mickey smiled and said, “I like the way you think, thanks for the tip.”
Now the chief, he was one of those real straight shooting no nonsense types. He was all business, except for one weakness - wacky tie Friday. The doorway cracked open and Chief Whitesel stepped in with a folder at his side. He was built like a Mack truck. His uniform was clean, the creases pressed, and the only non standard piece of attire was a black tie embroidered with cute little puppy dogs. Without a word of greeting he walked over and set the folder on Mickey’s desk. Mickey smiled.
“What do we got this time, Chief?” Mickey asked as he grabbed the folder, “Another poltergeist? Demonic incursion? Unlicensed necromancy?”
“Potential terrorism, Mick,” The chief said, stepping over to the blinds and pulling them open.
Mickey winced at the harsh light, and shot the chief a dirty look. He stubbed the last half of his cigarette and opened the folder, taking a quick read of the contents.
“Heralds of the True Heir eh?” Mickey said, “Whaddya suppose they mean by that?”
“That’s part of what we want to find out,” Chief Whitesel said, “Most likely delusions of a deranged and dangerous mind… But, regardless, these delusions seem to have amassed a small following, including a mass murderer with a 3000 coin bounty on her head.”
“You mean the Butcher of Hope?” Mickey asked, glancing up towards the chief.
“I wish they’d stop giving maniacs such sensational names, but yes, the Butcher of Hope,” He answered with a sigh, “Along with a person of interest known as Dr. Caustic, and an unidentified third party who seems to share Mr. Nazret’s delusions.”
“Right, mhmm, gotcha,” Detective Mickey said, making a show of nodding.
Silence filled the air followed by the dying gasps of Mick’s cigarette. The chief stood at parade rest, staring out the window onto the streets of Arcadia below.
“You’re normally excited about new assignments, Mick,” He said, “Something wrong?”
Mickey rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s not that I’m not appreciative, Chief, just, well my last assignment was some punk kids throwing firecrackers and some half-blind bat mistook it for weapons-grade evocation magic, and the one before that had me sifting through Chocobo shit to find evidence of illegal transmogrification, which ended up being nothing but a false flag. All I’m saying is, with our recent track record, this is just gonna end up being some troll in their momma’s basement getting too invested into online roleplaying or something stupid like that. When are you gonna throw me another good assignment? I overheard Mallory talking about an epidemic of--”
“Detective Mickey,” The chief cut him off with a sharp tone, “In my department I assign the assignments, whatever case Mallory is working on is my business, not yours. Now I don’t care if this ends up being a damned squirrel given sentience along with an intense and passionate hatred of the crown, you’re going to approach it with nothing less than a smile and a ‘can-do’ attitude… Am I clear?”
“You’re always clear Chief,” Mickey answered.
“Good, besides, you’ll have some company for this one,” Chief Whitesel said, making his way towards the door, “Detective Maldera put in a formal request to pursue the Dr. Caustic lead, and now that the good doctor has seemingly allied himself with our Herald you two have some common ground.”
At this Mickey perked up. He’d worked with Detective Maldera before. The man was a fucking force of nature and Mick respected the hell out of the guy. Even if the assignment turned out to be a shitshow he couldn’t pass on a chance to work with the department’s equivalent of a rockstar. Though, Maldera wasn’t part of the paranormal division, which raised the question…
“Chief, one last question,” Mickey said, “And I’m asking sincerely, but why was I assigned to this, I mean, unless Dr. Caustic is some kind of warlock doctor or something. This whole thing doesn’t seem to have any occult elements.”
Again the chief sighed, “Please read the entire brief before asking questions Mickey, it makes you look like an ass. Anders Nazret’s name didn’t pop up any flags in our database, except for a bounty bulletin posted by an unknown person. Apparently, Mr. Nazret attacked a promising young sorceress and somehow stripped her of arcane potential, now I’m not well versed in thaumaturgy, but that seems like something directly in your wheelhouse.”
Without waiting for a response the chief left. Detective Mickey sighed and leafed through the brief again. None of this seemed very exciting, save for that last bit of information. Stripping someone of their magic potential, now that was an interesting prospect. Obviously not for the victim, but in his seventeen years of service he had never heard of anything like that. And beyond that, what was Maldera’s interest in this doctor character? Mickey threw on his trenchcoat and put the folder in his briefcase. He figured asking Maldera directly would probably be the best bet. Mickey made his way to Maldera’s office, but was stopped by his secretary. Wait… he had a secretary? Mickey knew this guy was hot shit, but when did he get a secretary?
The young lady offered him a smile and said, “Detective Maldera is out for the evening, if you want I can take a message.”
“Ah, no, that’s quite alright, I wouldn’t know what to say,” There was a moment of awkwardness before he continued, “Anyways, I’m Detective Mickey, I was assigned to work this Heralds case with Detective Maldera. You wouldn’t have a way for me to get a hold of him outside of work hours, would you?”
“Ah, he’s asked me not to give out his personal information unless it was an emergency,” She said.
“Right, right, fair enough, I just wanted to have a little chat with him and sync our watches up, so to speak, the last case we worked on we went and got coffee together every morning at 7am sharp,” Mickey lied, they had never once went for coffee, but he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get this investigation rolling.
The secretary tapped her well-manicured fingers against the desk before huffing and saying, “Alright, he’s probably at the boxing gym down the road right now, it’s not my fault if you happen to walk by and see him through the window.”
Mickey smiled and said, “I like the way you think, thanks for the tip.”