Post by AU Julian Mercury on Mar 2, 2021 18:53:32 GMT -6
Years Earlier
“Hey, Jule. Coffee?” Tahlia said, her soft smile greeting his weary eyes. He nodded.
“That’d be great, thank you.” he said, before raising a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.
“You were here all night again, weren’t you?” as she spoke, she reached down and collected a cup and empty water bottle that lingered on his desk. The look she gave him was one of disapproval, to which he could only reply with a rueful grin.
“I didn’t mean to. I managed to get some sleep in.”
“Promise?” her eyebrows raised now, as if a subtle warning to not repeat the act again.
“Promise.”
She eyed him momentarily, then shook her head in disbelief, almost scoffing at him. She disappeared from his office, but was swiftly replaced by Sergeant Kent, who looked as though he had seen better days. HIs normally clean shaven face had become home to a scruffy ginger beard and his hair was not slicked back. The sunken eyes of the sergeant mirrored those of Julian, who greeted him with a nod.
“Hey, Greg.”
“Detective. How’s it going?”
“About as well as it looks.”
This earned a brief laugh from the sergeant, who peered back through the ajar door for a second before shutting it lightly.
“I’ve got some news.” Kent said, as he flopped onto the maroon arm chair across from Julian’s desk. He wore the face of someone who appeared reluctant to speak, which made the detective hesitate.
“What kind?”
“The type I don’t think you’ll like to hear.”
“But you have to do it anyway?”
“Yup.”
A silence fell upon the two men, only broken up by the muffled chatter and bustle that accompanied the precinct, especially during the final hours of the morning.
“I’m sorry to say, Julian… but the Captain informed me that the Kingston Investigation is being closed. We don’t have the resources to keep pursuing what will probably end up as a dead end… and you’ll be of more use being assigned elsewhere. His words, not mine.”
He gauged Julian for any type of reaction, to perhaps brace himself for the storm he suspected would be coming shortly after. The detective’s face remained neutral, lacking any sort of emotion to be read. When he spoke though, his voice was only marginally greater than a whisper.
“Why? Why, after all this?”
“Not enough progress and too much time spent, apparently. Although I think we both know the real reason.”
“That scumbag made an offer, didn’t he?” Julian said, his tone venomous. Kent shrugged.
“There’s no telling, but we can assume. They’re smart enough to recognize the predicament they were in. A deal would’ve been the easiest way out of that.”
Now he saw it. The restraint of Julian’s beginning to falter, as his nails dug into the mouse he held, threatening to break the cheaply made device. A few years ago, he would have acted out on his anger almost immediately. Here though, he managed to show restraint, even as his whole world for the last few months was being burned before his eyes, ashes about to be tossed into the wind and lost forever. Kent stood and walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a consolatory squeeze.
“I know, bud. It’s rough. But there’s nothin’ we can do about it. We just follow orders.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Kent could do nothing but concede the point. He sighed, stepping away from the desk and turning toward the door.
“I’ll update you if we get any more information, but I’m guessing we won’t. They’ll want this to be forgotten about as quickly as possible. You’ll get your next assignment shortly. Let Detective Romero know too, okay?”
Almost as if she were summoned by command, Tahlia opened the door with a mug in hand
“Oh, hi Greg.”
“Tahlia” he said, followed by a respectful nod. Tahlia placed the mug in front of Julian, an apologetic grin on her face.
“Sorry for the wait, there was a line. Guess you weren’t the only one who needed a fix.”
“I’ll see myself out.” Sergeant Kent said, giving Julian one last telling look, before exiting the room. Julian waited for him to shut the door, and then reached a shaky hand out toward the mug Tahlia had put down for him, taking it weakly and sipping from it.
“Everything okay?” she said, brow furrowed slightly.
“Marcus Kingston. He’s free.”
“What?”
“They’re calling off the investigation.”
The night was cold, their rental car doing little to help with the matter. Eve was at the wheel, parked inconspicuously at the end of a street they had been monitoring for activity. The night had been quiet, with little in the way of movement from one of the few remaining gangs in the district.
She sighed and looked over toward him.
With the light at a specific angle, and with a certain expression… he could have sworn she looked just like her.
“You still haven’t told me about your history with Zayne.”
“How so?”
“Like, specifics.”
He weighed up whether or not it would be appropriate telling her. How she would react upon being told the information and how it related to her. How much it would force him to expose of himself. He shook his head.
“It’s not really worth getting into.”
“We’ve got nothing but time. This night has been dead.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He saw the look of disappointment, as though he had taken a knife and sliced through the layers of trust they had built over the years. But she relented, leaning back in her seat and turning her head to look down the empty street once more.
In his heart, he knew he was wrong for not having the courage to tell her. To explain what had brought them here. To give reason as to why a Mercury and a Romero were working in relation to this dreaded family once more.
But how do you bring yourself to do it?
He hadn’t spoken about her in years.
“Excellent work last week, Julian. Perhaps this change of scenery from one block to the next was the correct move for you. Keep it up and you may end up gaining something from your venture into BPW after all.”
“I’ve told you already - I don’t care about the results.”
“You will if it gives you no way of finding out more about these fiends in charge. Think about it this way, you don’t make an impression, you don’t find your way into the circle. You don’t do that, we walk into enemy territory virtually blind. That’s an almost guaranteed defeat on our side, and that wouldn’t be good for either of us, would it?”
“I don’t need BPW to find you what you need.”
“Sure. But it’d make it easier, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m glad you’re starting to see reason, Julian. I never knew you were so stubborn. No wonder my father had so many issues with you and that girl. How is she doing, by the way?”
“...”
“Ah, still a touchy subject. Let’s stay on topic then, shall we? Your opposition for this week. Tell me about them.”
“From what I understand, he’s motivated only by money. That’s his whole thing.”
“Not unlike other people who have arrived to compete in BPW, I’m sure.”
“Those types of people are the easiest to break. He gives off a wild exterior, but take away his one motive and he’ll become timid, a shell of himself.”
“This coming from you, who ‘doesn’t care’ about the results?”
“I’m a professional. I have a job to do. He doesn’t ‘have’ to do this, he just ‘wants’ to for the benefits it will bring.”
“If you say so.”
“Starting to lose faith in me, Zayne?”
“Not quite. I just don’t know where your head is at. And to be frank? That worries me.”
Good.
“Hey, Jule. Coffee?” Tahlia said, her soft smile greeting his weary eyes. He nodded.
“That’d be great, thank you.” he said, before raising a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.
“You were here all night again, weren’t you?” as she spoke, she reached down and collected a cup and empty water bottle that lingered on his desk. The look she gave him was one of disapproval, to which he could only reply with a rueful grin.
“I didn’t mean to. I managed to get some sleep in.”
“Promise?” her eyebrows raised now, as if a subtle warning to not repeat the act again.
“Promise.”
She eyed him momentarily, then shook her head in disbelief, almost scoffing at him. She disappeared from his office, but was swiftly replaced by Sergeant Kent, who looked as though he had seen better days. HIs normally clean shaven face had become home to a scruffy ginger beard and his hair was not slicked back. The sunken eyes of the sergeant mirrored those of Julian, who greeted him with a nod.
“Hey, Greg.”
“Detective. How’s it going?”
“About as well as it looks.”
This earned a brief laugh from the sergeant, who peered back through the ajar door for a second before shutting it lightly.
“I’ve got some news.” Kent said, as he flopped onto the maroon arm chair across from Julian’s desk. He wore the face of someone who appeared reluctant to speak, which made the detective hesitate.
“What kind?”
“The type I don’t think you’ll like to hear.”
“But you have to do it anyway?”
“Yup.”
A silence fell upon the two men, only broken up by the muffled chatter and bustle that accompanied the precinct, especially during the final hours of the morning.
“I’m sorry to say, Julian… but the Captain informed me that the Kingston Investigation is being closed. We don’t have the resources to keep pursuing what will probably end up as a dead end… and you’ll be of more use being assigned elsewhere. His words, not mine.”
He gauged Julian for any type of reaction, to perhaps brace himself for the storm he suspected would be coming shortly after. The detective’s face remained neutral, lacking any sort of emotion to be read. When he spoke though, his voice was only marginally greater than a whisper.
“Why? Why, after all this?”
“Not enough progress and too much time spent, apparently. Although I think we both know the real reason.”
“That scumbag made an offer, didn’t he?” Julian said, his tone venomous. Kent shrugged.
“There’s no telling, but we can assume. They’re smart enough to recognize the predicament they were in. A deal would’ve been the easiest way out of that.”
Now he saw it. The restraint of Julian’s beginning to falter, as his nails dug into the mouse he held, threatening to break the cheaply made device. A few years ago, he would have acted out on his anger almost immediately. Here though, he managed to show restraint, even as his whole world for the last few months was being burned before his eyes, ashes about to be tossed into the wind and lost forever. Kent stood and walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a consolatory squeeze.
“I know, bud. It’s rough. But there’s nothin’ we can do about it. We just follow orders.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Kent could do nothing but concede the point. He sighed, stepping away from the desk and turning toward the door.
“I’ll update you if we get any more information, but I’m guessing we won’t. They’ll want this to be forgotten about as quickly as possible. You’ll get your next assignment shortly. Let Detective Romero know too, okay?”
Almost as if she were summoned by command, Tahlia opened the door with a mug in hand
“Oh, hi Greg.”
“Tahlia” he said, followed by a respectful nod. Tahlia placed the mug in front of Julian, an apologetic grin on her face.
“Sorry for the wait, there was a line. Guess you weren’t the only one who needed a fix.”
“I’ll see myself out.” Sergeant Kent said, giving Julian one last telling look, before exiting the room. Julian waited for him to shut the door, and then reached a shaky hand out toward the mug Tahlia had put down for him, taking it weakly and sipping from it.
“Everything okay?” she said, brow furrowed slightly.
“Marcus Kingston. He’s free.”
“What?”
“They’re calling off the investigation.”
The night was cold, their rental car doing little to help with the matter. Eve was at the wheel, parked inconspicuously at the end of a street they had been monitoring for activity. The night had been quiet, with little in the way of movement from one of the few remaining gangs in the district.
She sighed and looked over toward him.
With the light at a specific angle, and with a certain expression… he could have sworn she looked just like her.
“You still haven’t told me about your history with Zayne.”
“How so?”
“Like, specifics.”
He weighed up whether or not it would be appropriate telling her. How she would react upon being told the information and how it related to her. How much it would force him to expose of himself. He shook his head.
“It’s not really worth getting into.”
“We’ve got nothing but time. This night has been dead.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He saw the look of disappointment, as though he had taken a knife and sliced through the layers of trust they had built over the years. But she relented, leaning back in her seat and turning her head to look down the empty street once more.
In his heart, he knew he was wrong for not having the courage to tell her. To explain what had brought them here. To give reason as to why a Mercury and a Romero were working in relation to this dreaded family once more.
But how do you bring yourself to do it?
He hadn’t spoken about her in years.
“Excellent work last week, Julian. Perhaps this change of scenery from one block to the next was the correct move for you. Keep it up and you may end up gaining something from your venture into BPW after all.”
“I’ve told you already - I don’t care about the results.”
“You will if it gives you no way of finding out more about these fiends in charge. Think about it this way, you don’t make an impression, you don’t find your way into the circle. You don’t do that, we walk into enemy territory virtually blind. That’s an almost guaranteed defeat on our side, and that wouldn’t be good for either of us, would it?”
“I don’t need BPW to find you what you need.”
“Sure. But it’d make it easier, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m glad you’re starting to see reason, Julian. I never knew you were so stubborn. No wonder my father had so many issues with you and that girl. How is she doing, by the way?”
“...”
“Ah, still a touchy subject. Let’s stay on topic then, shall we? Your opposition for this week. Tell me about them.”
“From what I understand, he’s motivated only by money. That’s his whole thing.”
“Not unlike other people who have arrived to compete in BPW, I’m sure.”
“Those types of people are the easiest to break. He gives off a wild exterior, but take away his one motive and he’ll become timid, a shell of himself.”
“This coming from you, who ‘doesn’t care’ about the results?”
“I’m a professional. I have a job to do. He doesn’t ‘have’ to do this, he just ‘wants’ to for the benefits it will bring.”
“If you say so.”
“Starting to lose faith in me, Zayne?”
“Not quite. I just don’t know where your head is at. And to be frank? That worries me.”
Good.