The reception area was nice and clean. The simple desk carried bright panels of light, and a kind-looking woman stood at the ready.
"Olivette, how are you? Your beauty shines like the moon…." Gunther walked in, uttering salacious tones the second he took stock of the pretty lady at the desk. A lean over that structure brought his face agonizingly close to hers.
"Gunther, the files you've forwarded have been set already. Morrigan is waiting for your flattery, kay?" Olivette had the kind of face that always sported a smile, but Vere could tell there was a cold, cordial vibe to the way she talked. As he placed his hands in his pockets, Olivette looked at him while straightening her glasses.
"…I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting. Do you have a case to report, sir?" She was a bit kinder to Vere than she was to Gunther. It had to be said that Gunther was quite the looker in appearance, and Vere didn't get the feeling that she was the kind of woman who'd appeal to those she felt were attractive.
If anything, she just seemed diligent in her job. To be so kind to a stranger…Vere couldn't help but gain a somewhat favorable opinion of her.
"Psh. You're only kind to him because he's handsome…so shallow!" Gunter playfully gestured at the man's face, almost as if putting it on display.
Olivette shook her head.
"I don't think he'll waste my time, unlike SOMEONE…remember when you told me there was an urgent case? At Westwood Bistro? Then you bought me a steak and proceeded to describe your entire life to me as I ate my dinner. I still don't remember seeing any victims at the scene, Gunther."
"It was a joke, okay! I didn't know you'd believe me…."
"Mmm. I'll take care not to believe you in the future, then." Her words were so upbeat, yet they were coldly indifferent. Vere inwardly gave the woman a thumbs up.
Gunther was too long-winded for his own good.
——
A room with a table, a desk, and a conspiracy board with loose scraps of paper lying on the wall. A woman with cold, dead eyes and flowing black hair neatly flowed past her chest. She wore clothes that seemed to emphasize her every feature, and her lips wore glossy dark lipstick.
"Gunther, you can leave. You." It wasn't even a second past the door before she shooed the blonde-haired detective away.
Her digit prodded at Vere before beckoning him forth. Gunther gave him a sheepish glance before leaving.
'Tsk. Even our chief is captivated by this man…should I have left him?'
That was neither here nor there and wasn't entirely accurate either.
"Sit." Her husky, mellifluous voice was alluring to the point of tantalizing. Vere noted her body language, only sitting when he felt that he couldn't escape what was coming to him.
As the leathery pressure folded underneath the man's weight, a barrel sat in front of his left eye. The right eye inadvertently caught a glance woman's undercut top and the smile on her face as she leaned forward on her table. A foot was placed atop the desk and the chair, and a black aura radiated from her body in small amounts at a time.
"You didn't even flinch. Cool under stress, hm? The second you came in here, you examined my office. And…"
Morrigan stumbled as the table quickly rose, forced upwards from Vere's knee. A powerful strength erupted from the tall man as a lighter black aura emanated from his pale white skin. Black wisps faintly slithered around his fingers as he quickly drew his revolver, thumb slipping a live bullet into position.
Bang! Bang!
Both bullets fired as a flash extended from Morrigan's muzzle. The projectiles collided simultaneously while Vere kicked the chair at the seductive woman.
The woman flipped midair and kicked the chair away, only to be met with the faintly smiling face of Vere.
He held up his revolver to her head.
"Quick reflexes and an accurate aim. The speed of your trigger finger beats your wit…and you wear clothes of the past. It seems a detective never dies."
"How did you know I'm a detective?" Vere said. Testing the woman's intentions while noting her calming demeanor, he made his inquiries known. Morrigan's lips upended as a faint breath escaped her lacquered mouth.
"It's written all over you, you know? And that Cognitive Force is coming from you…that's enough to tell me your identity."
"…How so?"
"Oh man, I truly wonder what you are. You see, you give off the feel of a DD. Yet, you have Cognitive energy? It's fascinating." Morrigan chuckled and brought her arms together, leaning against the wall.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry~! I'm getting ahead of myself; it's just that I love a patient man, you see." The woman winked at Vere as she continued while he kept his focus razor sharp.
"Only detectives were given the powers to deal with what we've titled as Suspects. There are many names for them, and they come in many forms…what tells us that another person is a detective is Cognitive Force."
"When a Desire Crevice forms, Cognitive Force leaks from it. Anomalous Suspects are formed from it, which has been the source of all kinds of things. Yet it also gave us a way to solve these myriad cases, in the form of detectives."
Vere's thoughts were a mess at the moment. This was a lot of information to process, his brain forming numerous filing cabinets in an attempt to sort through it. Yet, there was something off…he had the gun, and yet he felt like a weapon was being pointed at him.
"That's right. You had to process that information because you're not from here. You're an Anomaly, but you're not a Suspect. How strange."
Morrigan mused.
So she was testing him. Vere felt he made a mistake letting her talk in the first place, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Footsteps sounded outside the door as a group busted into the office.
The room was obscured as black miasma enveloped the room, and before anyone could see or hear anything, something changed.
As Vere opened his eyes, he felt the revolver's weight pushing against him as his trench coat pushed at his body. The lack of emptiness near his lower half was evidence of the chair beneath him, and his hands hung past his knees as he casually sat.
Morrigan winked at him, waving the people off. Vere brought his eyes back to her, a hand grasping for his holster.
Click.
He was ready to shoot at any time.
"So? Since you don't remember anything, how about working for me? I'll teach you how to manage that power."
"Why are you interested in me?" It was a simple question, as Vere decided not to be more verbose than he needed to with Morrigan. She seemed ready to take anything as a hint, a puzzle piece to use to her advantage.
"Simple. You came from a Desire Crevice. Suspects won't be able to resist finding you…it can raise my case resolution rate by a lot. And that's beneficial to all of Old Westwood." Her face remained the same, yet her words had a sentimental tone. There seemed to be a reverence for the place she was in.
Maybe she grew up here. Maybe she has family, or maybe there's something else entirely. Vere had a hunch.
If this…power…was real, would it help him discover who he was? Would it help him find out who C is?
More importantly, he had 3.56 dollars in his pockets. So could he even afford to say no?