After a quarter of an hour, several officers sporting the OPD emblem etched on their pockets entered the reception area of the hospital. OPD is an acronym for Oakhaven Police Department.
The commanding officer motioned for his subordinates to hang back and approached me. He was a man with raven hair, an unremarkable visage, and a toned physique.
However, the way they all carried themselves before me was strange. As soon as he neared me, he snapped into a salute.
'Excuse me?' I thought to myself, 'Did they make a mistake?'
"Good evening, Sir!" he greeted me with an ear-piercing shout.
And then, the other officers followed suit, snapping into a salute and echoing, "Good Evening, Sir!" in unison.
"What in the world-" I retorted.
"Oh! You were... undercover, sir?" he whispered furtively, scanning his surroundings. The receptionist was already staring at me in wide-eyed disbelief.
"…Yes... wait a moment, I need to make a call," I said, taking out my phone and dialling Cedric's number.
"H-hello, sir!" Cedric answered.
"What is this nonsense? I asked you to send the police, not con artists to treat me like some sort of defence minister!" I exclaimed, covering my mouth and turning away from the officers.
"Oh, sir, I apologize. I forgot to mention that Weavers are held in very high esteem. Those who know of their existence hold them in great regard," Cedric explained.
"You... forgot to mention this?" I inquired incredulously.
"N-no, Sir, I was going to tell you-", he stammered, but I cut the call short.
"Fucking son of a maggot", I muttered rubbing my temples.
I turned to face the police officers and saw them sweating bullets like they were in a sauna.
"Office-" I began to say.
"Yes sir!" he interrupted, saluting me like I was a king or something.
"Motherf-...sigh," I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
"Let me speak, please."
"Yes sir," he replied in a hushed tone, like he was afraid I'd burst into flames if he spoke any louder.
"State your name first", I said.
"Blaze Stirling, Sir. I am the commissioner of OPD", he said.
'A commissioner?', I thought.
[A/N: here is a general hierarchy:
1. Police Chief or Commissioner
2. Deputy Chief or Assistant Commissioner
3. Captain
4. Lieutenant
5. Sergeant
6. Detective or Officer]
"Finish up the paperwork here. There's a woman in the emergency room, and I need you to contact me once she wakes up. And no questions asked about what happened, got it?" I said.
"Absolutely sir! May I ask how to contact you?" he asked.
"Write down my number," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Yes, sir!" he said, pulling out a notepad.
'Just save it in your phone like a normal person,' I thought to myself.
After issuing instructions to the officers, I departed from the hospital. It appeared that only the chief had been informed of my true identity as a weaver, while the others were following a false lead. Despite their baffled expressions, they remained obedient to the chief's commands.
The individual I conversed with earlier was a commissioner, and his presence had caused a marked increase in security around the hospital.
Multiple patrol vehicles and armed personnel were visible, their flashing lights illuminating the surrounding area.
Although the other officers were not privy to my status as a weaver, they still straightened their backs and stood at attention as I passed by.
Seated comfortably in my vehicle, I made my way towards my residence while enjoying the mellifluous melodies of a classic pop tune and admiring the nocturnal cityscape.
----[POV: Blaze Stirling]
*Fifteen Minutes Before the call with Cedric*
"I'm sorry, Lyra, but this case has been closed. You cannot pursue it any further, and I must also inform you that several assets under your department have been compromised," I stated, maintaining a firm gaze on the young officer before me.
In the past month, there had been a plethora of murder cases linked to the mantle organization. Surprisingly, their aggressiveness had amplified, and they no longer seemed to fear anyone.
They now launched attacks before weavers could cleanse an area, catching them off guard. They often concealed themselves in abandoned locations or blended in with the drug culture.
But now they were brazenly appearing in public restrooms, parking lots, schools, colleges, hostels, malls, and any other crowded areas where they could find unsuspecting victims at night.
The Ankarath and higher government officials had instructed us not to interfere with their work, and therefore, I was also refraining from further investigations.
However, there were several ambitious individuals, each with unique reasons and motivations, who were determined to uncover the truth at any cost. Lyra was one of those individuals.
Lyra Nightshade was a zealous officer, driven by the desire to dispense justice. She had sensed something amiss and had stumbled upon the fact that a secret organization was behind these murders.
However, what she knew was merely the tip of the iceberg.
If she delved any deeper, it could prove to be perilous, and I couldn't risk losing her. She was still young, in her mid-twenties, and deserved a life free from such troubles.
"Sir, please take a look at these pictures. I collected this evidence myself by carefully following the trail after each murder. The footage was intentionally erased, the floors cleaned thoroughly, and this shadow I captured proves the existence of the 'x' organization!" Lyra exclaimed, pointing towards the evidence she had gathered over the past few months.
"Lyra, this is insufficient evidence. You need to be more specific and decisive, and I cannot permit you to use the department's resources any longer to pursue your theory of the 'x' organization's existence," I replied, sliding the papers and photographs towards her.
"But sir…" Lyra began, only to be interrupted by the ringing of my phone.
I picked up the phone and brought it close to my ear.
"Assistance required for a Pseudo-weaver on immediate status. The details have been sent to your designated device," the voice on the other end stated before disconnecting.
Lyra looked bewildered, eyeing my perplexed expression. A Pseudo-weaver was a rare individual with enough strength to combat and even defeat a weaver. Only three people in Ankarath had been given that title.
As I glanced at the message on my phone, I felt a slight easing of tension. A highly classified Pseudo-weaver, River Hart.
'So, you've found a candidate, huh?' I thought, picturing the face of the abrasive Clan head.
"Alarm all the personnel to be ready to leave in a minute, quick!", I said looking at her.
'But there is always one problem. Weather It's a weaver or a walker, they are all arrogant, one mistake and my and everyone's career is over,' I thought.
"Yes sir!", she said standing up as she ran outside of the room at an alarming rate.
The weapons were loaded and the cars were arranged strategically, ready to move at a moment's notice. This was a delicate mission and we had to be prepared for anything.
After ensuring everything was in order, I checked my phone for the location. Christ Hospital. Even getting a bed here during an emergency would cost a fortune.
We piled into the cars and drove off, sirens blaring as we raced through the city. We arrived at the hospital in record time and headed towards the opulent reception area, leaving the rest of the personnel outside to guard.
Sitting alone on the sofa was a young man, dressed in a black coat, and black shirt, and with long black silky hair. His golden eyes were like those of an incubus, and even the mere look he gave me sent shivers down my spine.
But I had a job to do, and I couldn't let his reputation intimidate me. I approached him confidently and began a conversation that was both domineering and polite at the same time. It was a delicate balance.
After he gave us the necessary instructions for the formalities, he left the room. The officers with me breathed a sigh of relief, clearly intimidated by his presence. I couldn't blame them - he had a certain aura about him that was both terrifying and alluring.
'Wait…Was this the assistance?', I thought looking at the army of the officers I had bought with me.
'…'
"Sir, may I inquire as to the identity of the gentleman we just encountered?" Lyra asked, her tone polite yet curious.
"I'm afraid that information is confidential," I replied, pausing to choose my words carefully.
"Understood, sir," Lyra replied with a nod, but the look in her eyes suggested she had pieced together some clues.
'Just do not approach him', I thought.