Exwood port (West coast of Asnad)
Asnad is a small island nation. For many of its supplies, it depends heavily upon the shipments that arrive through ports. The Exwood port is the busiest port in Asnad and even in the world, it ranks among the top five. Handling such a large volume of goods comes with its disadvantages.
Shipments would be a source of the smuggled goods inside the country. And such is the case for demons.
"Let us go in!" Someone shouted from the small crowd that had formed at the security check. Officials from different companies expecting their shipments were met with a stop sign.
"Yeah, it's been three hours since our goods have arrived, and yet for some reason, they're just stuck here."
"Don't you get it? If these things don't make it on time, I say goodbye to my damn job."
"This isn't my fault. Officers from the Defense Department are investigating, and the port isn't open to the public at the moment," the guard said.
"Huh? The DoD? Why are they here?"
"Don't know, don't care. The Viazo were here earlier, and now these guys. You have an issue, I'll give you the damn number, complain all you want." The guard denied entry.
"Ah! This sucks."
While this argument was going on right outside the port's entry, the team sent from the DoD was inside with a forensic team taking samples from the site.
"Did you find anything, Martin?" Jennifer came out of a shipping container.
"Bits and pieces of the shell here and there. The explosion was huge as Viazo said. It would not be easy to collect that evidence."
Jennifer tossed a small box of crockery, "Lame. We have forensic experts for that," Jennifer said, "You do your stuff."
"Yes," Martin took out a small device from his pocket and began scanning around the active region. 'I feel so cool right now, I'll tell mom when I get home.'
"What about the staff here?" Jennifer asked.
"I sent an officer to take the records and any information regarding them."
"The demon came from one of the containers, right?"
"Yes, it did. The needle's moving up, we have something, yay," Martin who hadn't conducted many investigations in his career, was having a hard time suppressing his grin.
"Have you found the trace?"
"Yup, there it is. And it doesn't belong to the demon. There was a mage that carried this out!" He whipped around and looked as if he had solved the greatest mystery of his life.
Jennifer couldn't help but sigh in embarrassment, "Of course, there was, idiot. Demons do not spawn in shipping containers."
Whenever a mage uses Kai in battle, some of the energy produced can get scattered as a result of that battle. This is called the 'trace' of a sorcerer.
Trace is a piece of evidence that can be useful in investigating crimes regarding Kai. Every mage has its unique trace and no two traces are the same.
The trace of demons and humans are on different bandwidths and thus it is possible to differentiate the two from each other. The presence of a human trace here can be significant to the investigation.
"I have recorded the evidence," Martin stood up from his crouched position.
"I've checked the container, it belonged to a grocery company. FlowKart," Jennifer mentioned.
"Is it possible they are involved in this?"
"They might be. We need to scout the source of shipment," Jennifer examined a flower-patterned plate from the box. Yuck! Finding it distasteful threw it into the ocean. 'Let the fish dine on it.'
"What about the forensic team?" Martin brought her thoughts back on track.
"They haven't found any fingerprints, but they are collecting and noting the evidence here, we will have a list shortly. What about the CCTV footage?"
"Already retrieved it. Between the container's arrival and the demon's appearance, there was a gap of 20 minutes. I have someone reviewing it right now." Martin didn't take three seconds to let that out.
"Calm down, you don't have to catch a flight."
"I'm sorry," Martin dispersed his hurry.
"Don't be sorry, just relax dude. What are your plans after this?"
"Go home and sleep."
"Lame."
"Hey, I'm really tired after all of this. I need to get in my 8 hours. What about you?"
"I'll be heading to the beach for a while. Then I have a date, although at this point I am inclined to ditch him."
"You live a busy life."
"I just do what I feel like. There aren't any thoughts I put into it."
Buzz
A message from the control room.
"What is it?" Jennifer asked.
"An unidentified signature was found from the trace."
"Which tier?"
"Fifth they said," Martin's eyebrows shot up.
"Goodbye, beach," Jennifer syncopated her relaxing destination.
***
A lone man walks at night on an asphalt bridge, on both sides of which lay dark water bodies that reek of rotten eggs. The road leads to the largest slum in Asnad, Bargam. Home to half a million people. The beginning of the other side was marked by tons of garbage laying across the shore, and some little boats tied to pillars.
Multiple-story shelters, each with dimly lit rooms visible in absence of windows, and a tin shed on top of the roof to guard against rain. This was a busy place, hardly any place was devoid of people and half-clothed children running around from one place to another.
The entire land was a giant playground. The bottom level of shelters was converted into shops, something of a trend here which would make the upper floor a residential region. Stationary, meat shops, mechanical repair, and whatnot.
You could tell the man was not a first-time visitor to this as he recognized the landmarks well to navigate in places that otherwise would be impossible to distinguish.
There were no roads, only stones, and wet sand since it was monsoon season. No one seemed to mind the insects or flies, they were as much of residents as the people.
The paths, barely eight to ten feet wide, half blocked by bikes, boxes, or garbage. In the presence of a bigger vehicle, the people had to squeeze inches to make them pass and you couldn't call someone 20 meters away from you without shouting at the top of your lungs.
He turns around at a corner and stares at a shop. A snack store under a tin shed. The owner who was the only worker was calling out to passing people every few seconds.
A small sign on the left had all the items you otherwise couldn't see dangling from a steel bar, or in the jars the owner kept at the counter.
The man tugs a kid passing by and hands him a paper.
"Give this to that person and ask him to make a cutting tea for his regular customer"
The kid saw no reason not to do it, his eyes on the money the man had just slipped into his pocket. He runs to the shop and hands over the paper.
"A cutting tea" the kid ordered, slamming his hand on one of the jars.
"Huh? Where's the money?"
"The regular customer asked for it," the kid retreated his hand, revealing the white chit under it.
The man took a look at the paper, then around the shop to see who might have sent it.
"If this is another of your old pranks, I will beat you so hard your mommy won't recognize your face, little shit," he said, turning his face to the kid.
The kid didn't run, for he was confident. The owner, perplexed for a moment took the paper. The man was in disbelief and didn't even turn to the kid who had sprinted away after completing his job.
He stepped up from his chair, turned off the stove, and poured its contents into a glass, not caring for the mosquitoes buzzing around. He pulled down the shutter and locked his shop, going out in the cold with a scarf and a glass in one hand.
He sees a lone man standing in the other corner. As he moves close, the man walks into an alley that lies in the middle of two rows of buildings facing the back of shops on both of those rows. Barely a five feet road, one rarely uses to pass by.
No matter the location, there is always a possibility of someone eavesdropping in this region, so they have to improvise. Communicate while moving.
"What now?" the owner asked
"The masked group"
"I have nothing, those guys are new in the game"
"The flux guns?" the man asked
"I'm doing what I can"
"Get a damn phone"
"My girl ran with all the money, I am dry as a desert"
"Wife?"
"Wife is a strong word, just someone I messed around with"
He sipped the tea because the man who ordered it never actually wanted it.
"How far is my retirement?" The owner asked
"You want retirement?"
"This slum life kills me slowly, working with you might get me killed anytime"
"You owe me"
"I know," the owner sighed, thinking his troubles might not be over soon.
'I'll make sure to divert some tasks to others' Mason's last words to the owner as he moves at great speed, practically vanishing from the owner's eye and leaving him alone in the dark alley.
The owner takes one last look at the piece of paper and swallows it down with the help of the remaining tea.