Jerome Hall now sat in a cafe quite near his loft, looking as fresh and clean as always. No one would be ever the wiser of the massacre he had just performed. As he sipped away at a caramel milkshake he glanced at the TV mounted on the wall, now playing the news. It showed the hole he had made in the building and the blood stains on the floor and walls. Curiously however not a trace of any bodies could be found save for the one they found at the bottom of the building, one that belonged to Hector Bishop and as Jerome had assumed, the man hadn't died, sure he was grievously injured but he had hung onto his life. He let the sweetness rest at the back of his mouth as he looked at the proceedings of the news report.
"...a brutal attack at Bishop's Bar has left its owner Hector Bishop in critical condition…it is reported that members of his private security are also missing…as of yet there has been no footage of the attack or pictures of the attackers…this is believed to be an act of terrorism…a heinous act against a great man, a philanthropist and owner of the building which becomes a hotspot for the majority of the city's nightlife…"
On and on it went giving detailed description of the attack, of how Hector was thrown out of a window and of the mysterious disappearances of Hector's security personnel, the bloodstains on the top floor, the missing security footage, the hole in floor and the wall, the outage of electricity to the building. It was a detailed report and he even caught police officers on the scene in the reporter's background. The way they propped up Hector, he was appearing to be a saint to the masses, the iron of it all thought Jerome with a bright smile. As he swallowed another sip he let out a burp and apologized to the woman opposite him that was looking at the report curiously. She nodded her head in acceptance of the apology before shaking her head.
"Horrible isn't it," she said. "Something like this could happen."
Jerome raised an eyebrow before throwing a sardonic smile, "Was he really that much of saint?"
She looked at him with wide eyes , "How could you ask that?"
Jerome shrugged, "I've never seen saints in reality."
"The man practically built up Trade City East, particularly the west wing, because of Bishop's Bar, crime rate there are low and he himself has several orphanages in the area supporting children and has also made generous donations to the city hospital."
Jerome whistled as she listed off her credentials, "You sound like a fan?"
She quickly looked away with a little blush as she herself realized her outburst.
"Sorry?" she said.
"Care to explain?" Jerome asked setting down his milkshake.
She took in a deep breath as she looked at him, "It was when I was sixteen years old, my mother, she had cancer."
Jerome smiled as he sat back, building the rest of the story himself, "He helped you out, or rather your mother out."
She nodded, "Darcy Hamada, by the way, I'm a journalist."
Jerome frowned and then looked towards the TV when she quickly placed her hands in front of his face and waved, trying to clear the matter.
"I wasn't there on the spot," she said with a wry smile.
"Oh…it seems like interesting news, why weren't you there?"
"I was fired," she said putting her head down. "Yesterday my establishment terminated me."
"Oh…I'm sorry for inquiring but any particular reason?" he asked.
"No…no it's fine," she said suddenly perking up and then she leaned forward to whisper. "I was doing a piece on the full moon decapitations."
Jerome too leaned forwards, that had caught his interest, that was all that had caught his interest, despite her being an exotic beauty which some males in the cafe were ogling at. She brushed her blondish brown hair aside as she noticed his sudden interest.
"I had an informer and everything," she said. "I was working on the article about how there were discrepancies in the investigation when my informer suddenly disappeared."
Jerome raised an eyebrow, an informer, he had found himself lying with an informer at Viewbridge Cemetery, what was the man's name…he couldn't remember.
"What happened then?" he asked prodding her to continue.
"I went in search of him," she said. "He couldn't be found until yesterday around noon I get a call saying there was a body and then two hours later I was called into the office and fired."
Jerome frowned and then smiled, this woman, she let out everything so easily. If only other people were half as cooperative as this one.
"Eckhard," he called out in his mind. "What was the name of that man I found with this body at Viewbridge Cemetery?"
<
Jerome massaged his forehead with his index finger and asked Darcy, "This informer, would his name happen to be Joseph Brock?"
Darcy's eyes widened as she suddenly leaned back, a real shame, she looked very fine up close, not that he would be complaining anyhow, he felt no such temptations, not since Eckhard suppressed it all.
"How…how do you know?" she asked shocked.
Jerome chuckled, "Constable Jerome Elliot Hall."
At that she suddenly stood up. "You're a cop?"
Jerome nodded as he grabbed his caramel milkshake and took another casual sip as he leaned back on his chair.
"Sit down please," he said motioning for her take back her original seat.
She sat down biting her lips, slightly nervous causing Jerome to chuckle again. The title he had, despite it being at the lowest rung in the profession held some power amongst the ordinary citizens regardless.
"I'm sorry," she said suddenly and he raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'why'.
"I just blabbered everything on my mind," she said looking down, bashful. "I do it all the time…but you're a cop."
"I just told you I am," said Jerome confirming his stand.
"Then can you please look into Joe's death?" she asked.
"Were you two close?" he asked and she suddenly recoiled shaking her head.
"No…no, he was just my informant, nothing more we only ever even meet occasionally and when he needs to give me information," she said quickly and Jerome just shook his head.
"I insinuated nothing of things your mind went to," he said and she looked down again with a slight blush. "I just tried to ask if you were friends, Joseph Brock is also a police informant."
She looked up at him with some semblance of panic, "I didn't know that."
"Tell me what you do know then," he said finally emptying his milkshake and sucking the cup dry.
"I…all I know is there are some people really high up…like I don't know any names but they want everything about this case hushed up," she whispered leaning in again.
Jerome nodded, he had assumed that much but if that was all the information she was going to give him then she was a downright disappointment. He leaned back on his chair again losing his interest.
"I also heard a name," she continued not really noticing his lack of interest but those words had caught his attention again as he quickly leaned in. "I don't know if it's like a name of a place or something but it's something that Joe mentioned in passing…Ninth Order."
Jerome's eyebrows furrowed…Ninth Order, yet again something he had never heard of. He was a journalist for Christ's sake, how could there be so many things hidden from him, it was like the whole world was living one life and he was living entirely another. He let out a small smile as he found something new to work with. It was a real shame he didn't run into this information quicker, he could have asked Hector about it instead of asking him such broad questions. Jerome got up to throw his cup in the trash when suddenly his hand was grabbed from behind. Frowning he turned to see Darcy grabbing it looking at him hopefully.
"What is it?" he asked showing his patience.
"I just shared some information with you," she said and he nodded. "Can you help me?"
"What do you want me to do?" he asked, she was asking for a fair trade and all she had given him was a name that reached neither the head or tail of what he had.
"Can you give me any information on the hospital fire?" she asked looking at him with gleaming eyes.
This woman, despite looking like this was still a child, he had formed some common assumptions of her.
"I thought you didn't have a job anymore?" he said.
She shook her head, "I don't but maybe if I can get a breakthrough in this article I can do something about my joblessness."
Jerome sighed, "I don't have anything on the fire…the entire department doesn't have anything new apart from what's already public."
"Oh…" she looked down in disappointment dropping her hands.
Jerome turned to walk away before he stopped, he was getting this really annoying feeling just leaving her like that. He chucked the cup away and turned back to her.
"Darcy!" he called and she looked up at him halfheartedly. "If I get anything new, I'll share."
Her face suddenly broke into a wide grin as she quickly ran up to him.
"Mr. Hall…thanks," she said shaking his hands and then she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a piece of paper onto which she scribbled something before pushing into his hands.
"That's my number," she said with a happy smile. "Call me if you get anything."
Jerome nodded and she returned to her seat to pay attention to the TV. He glanced at once more before folding the paper up and putting it in his pocket. Likelihood was that he would never see her again. He walked out of the cafe waving a greeting to the cashier on his way out. As soon as he stepped out onto the street his phone vibrated. He reached in and picked it out and looked at the name and title that showed in a very interested manner. This couldn't be a coincidence could it, not after what Hector revealed to him before death drop to the ground floor. The caller ID showed the Snr. Sergeant Robert Deacon. Smiling he slid to pick up the call.
"Hello sir?" he answered.
"Constable Jerome Hall?" came a voice from the other side.
"Yes sir?" he asked.
"I need you to come into my office as soon as possible," said the senior sergeant.
"Will do sir."
"Where are you officer?"
"I'm a five minute walk away from the station," Jerome answered and the man voiced his affirmation of the information before the call disconnected.
A meeting with Robert Deacon, well if his senior sergeant came for his throat, he didn't think he needed to be all that respectful.
***
It was as he had notified his senior officer, a five minute walk from the cafe to the station. He climbed the steps sending greetings to his colleagues, several of which he had no idea of. The station appeared to be busy as he navigated the cluster to climb the stairs. He could have taken the lift but there were way too many people for him to feel comfortable being stuck in a lift and so he decided to climb. On the way up he met several more officers, some of whom he had seen in the passing the last few days, others he had no idea off, though they all seemed to know him. Climbing the stairs he appeared on the second landing after which he stepped across the room full of people, some occasionally greeting him again and appeared in front of the senior sergeant's office door. He was about to push in when he thought better of courtesy, he instead decided to knock twice.
"Come in!" a voice answered from inside, rounding out through the loud noises that came from the workplace.
He took a deep breath, pushed the door open and came right in. His eyes almost immediately met with Roy Sharpe's as he looked first at the sergeant, then at the senior sergeant sitting behind his desk a fair few centimeters back to accommodate for his sizeable belly.
"Good morning sir," he said offering greetings.
"Good morning Constable Hall," said Senior Sergeant Robert Deacon.
Jerome then turned to Roy Sharpe, also offering the man a polite greeting who also politely if not with a nefarious aura, greeted back.
"Why have you called me in here sir?" asked Jerome as he looked at carefully into Deacon's eyes and examined his face overall.
He had learned to be pretty adept at reading people, a skill he had picked up from his time as a journalist but Deacon's eyes betrayed no hint of what he felt surprising Jerome. Had he underestimated this slag of a man? Perhaps he had.
"Eckhard?" he mentally called out. "Scan Robert Deacon with your new parameters."
<
'Damn', Jerome's eyes widened and suddenly Robert Deacon stood up causing Jerome to instinctively and cautiously take a step back. Were they everywhere? He asked himself, how had he not seen or heard about this before, they were so well versed at hiding in plain sight. He continued to listen to Eckhard as Robert Deacon peered into him and suddenly he felt a weird sensation, unexplainable because it wasn't something he felt physically but more like a sense of discomfort.
<
Jerome suddenly froze, 'intrusion on mind' there were people that could things like that? Of course, he had to believe it, it was happening to him and it wasn't exactly most batshit crazy thing he had seen today.
<
Jerome calmed down, a telemancer would be good if he was up against anyone else but Jerome housed a super computer in his mind and sure enough it showed results as the discomfort slowly eased and he saw Deacon's eyes widen as he looked at him. Jerome took a step forward and Deacon took a forced step back.
"A telemancer," whispered Jerome with a smile and as he looked at Roy Sharpe, the man's smirk had all but disappeared only to be replaced with a cold glacier like look.
"You…" said Robert Deacon. "You're one-."
Deacon didn't have time to finish the sentence before the connection snapped and Deacon fell back into his chair sweating immensely.
"Sir," Roy called out, the concern apparent in his voice but Deacon didn't respond, he looked red and very uncomfortable.
"How?" he asked looking up at him dazed.
Jerome raised an eyebrow in question.
"What is it sir?" asked Roy. "What did you find?"
"I…I wasn't able to enter," said Deacon in a shaky voice. "He shattered my attack and pushed me back out."
Roy turned to look at him with a mixture of fury and shock.
"How did we not know about you?" he asked in a rather accusatory tone and Jerome gave a sardonic smile at the surprise he had smacked them in the face with, something that quickly morphed into a face of concern seamlessly.
"Are you alright sir?" he asked stepping forward and reaching for Deacon who almost immediately recoiled.
"You're a telemancer," said Deacon with some fear in his voice and Roy too apparently realized the seriousness, a telemancer that could push back Deacon was also a serious concern for him and he was immediately put on guard.
<
Jerome's eyes narrowed as he asked Eckhard in his mind. "Is he preparing for an attack…scan him Eckhard?"
<
Jerome quickly worked the information he had been given, pyro meaning, fire, he was working with a controller of fire. Wait, was this the arsonist, was Roy Sharpe the arsonist he was looking for? He looked at Roy trying to decipher any possibilities of such an act but as usual it was beyond his limited scope of knowledge on psychology. Jerome clicked his tongue as he stepped back.
"What's your identity?" asked Deacon after some quiet time of calming himself down.
"Identity?" asked Jerome and then he chuckled as he understood the hidden meaning of the question.
"My name is Jerome Elliot Hall," said Jerome. "I am constable, nothing more…at present anyway."
Deacon looked at him quietly the fear still apparent on his face, a fear that wasn't present on Roy Sharpe's face.
"Sir…" said Roy tensing and Eckhard immediately detected a high possibility of attack, something which Jerome prepared for.
"No Sergeant Sharpe," said Deacon with a quiet authority that surprised Jerome and then he looked at Jerome. "You are free to leave Mr. Hall, I apologize for my misdeeds."
Jerome raised an eyebrow at the sudden respect but he nevertheless nodded and slid out through the door. He chuckled as he came out, at the interesting interaction he had experienced.
"Eckhard?" he asked. "The Ninth Order, does it have anything to do with them?"
<
"A magical police force," mused Jerome chuckling and then he shook his head. "They've been working right under everyone's nose."
<
"So they take up roles as normal police officers despite being part of this organization?" asked Jerome.
<
"Everything's covered," said Jerome nodding. "Makes sense."
He walked out of the station and had just stepped onto the sidewalk when Eckhard notified him of a tail…Robert Deacon or Roy Sharpe, maybe both, whoever it was that gave the order for him to be followed had certainly done their job quickly. He walked without care turning occasionally looking for a place to confront this supposed tail on him. Suddenly he turned into an alleyway and jumped behind a set of dumpsters and sure enough several seconds later the tail made their way into the alley and Jerome chuckled at the figure. It was no tail, at least not anyone conventional, the man that had followed him was Roy Sharpe. Sharpe looked around but Jerome stayed hidden, he wanted to see if Sharpe could sense him, or figure out where he was.
"Come out Hall, I know you're here," said Sharpe without even trying, something that greatly disappointed Jerome.
With a sigh he stepped out from behind the dumpsters and looked at Roy Sharpe, the man contrary to his previous snake like looks, now had cold steel on his face.
"Deacon sent his dog after me," said Jerome with a laugh, not bothering with any respect.
Sharpe glared at him gritting his teeth.
"You're a cause for concern, you were strong enough to push back Deacon even if he did underestimate you," said Roy with a sharp glint in his eye as his hands slowly turned red and caught on fire.
Jerome's eyes twinkled at the magic trick, that was cool he admitted much more flashy than the way Roselyne or Hector used electricity.
"Are you going to kill me?" Jerome asked sarcastically.
"No, I'm going to take you in," said Sharp matter-of-factly. "My superiors will decide what to do with you after."
Jerome leered at him as they both prepared.