The derelict warehouse was cloaked in darkness, the air heavy with the scent of mildew and rust. Canan Kane stood near a broken window, his phone in hand, the faint glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across his face. Outside, the last traces of daylight had faded, surrendering to the inky blackness of night.
From his pocket, he retrieved a card. The name printed on it: Agent Maren.
The phone rang twice before her clipped, professional voice answered. "This is Maren."
"This is Officer Kane, badge number 99930," he said, his voice low but urgent. "We need to talk."
A pause stretched over the line. He could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. "Go on."
"I've got information on Sergeant Wade. He isn't who you think he is," Canan continued, each word deliberate. "I can give you everything you need to bring him down. But I need something in return."
Her voice sharpened. "What exactly are you asking for?"
"A clean slate," Canan said. "all blemishes on my record expunged."
There was another long silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the line.
Finally, Maren spoke. "Where are you?"
Twenty minutes later, Canan sat in a diner booth under a flickering fluorescent light. The place was nearly empty, save for a weary trucker nursing a cup of coffee at the counter. The faint hum in his chest pulsed steadily, sharpening his focus.
Agent Maren arrived moments later, her sharp suit and no-nonsense demeanor stark against the faded wallpaper and cracked linoleum. Without a word, she slid into the seat across from him, placing a recorder on the table.
"Time is short," she said curtly. "Talk."
Canan didn't speak right away. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. His shoulders slumped, his eyes fixed on the table. He looked like a man drowning in guilt.
"I didn't want this," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… I didn't know what I was getting into."
Maren didn't respond, letting the silence stretch until he continued.
"Wade pulled me in," Canan said, his voice cracking. "I was just a rookie. Fresh out of the academy, wide-eyed and stupid. He saw that, and he… he used it. Made me feel like I owed him. Like I didn't have a choice."
He looked up briefly, his eyes glassy, then quickly lowered his gaze.
Maren's pen moved swiftly across her notepad. "Go on."
"It started small," Canan continued, gripping the edge of the table. "Turning a blind eye to certain things. Letting the wrong people slip through. Wade said it was for the greater good, that we had to make sacrifices to keep the peace."
His voice dropped, tinged with regret and bitterness. "By the time I realized what he was really doing, it was too late. I was in too deep."
Maren's sharp gaze stayed on him, her pen momentarily still. "Define 'too deep.'"
Canan flinched slightly, his hands twitching in his lap. "I… I don't know everything. Wade kept the details close to heart. But I know enough. Enough to take him down."
The hum in his chest resonated, urging caution. He deliberately avoided mentioning the mafia's hideouts or their larger operations. Now was not the time to irk them
"I don't know where the drugs come from," Canan said, shaking his head. "I don't know who's pulling the strings above him. Wade never trusted me with that. But I know how he moves product. I know the names of the guys who help him. I know how he covers his tracks."
Maren leaned back slightly, her pen resuming its movement. "Why now, Kane? Why are you coming forward?"
Canan lowered his head, his shoulders trembling faintly. When he spoke, his voice was raw, filled with emotion. "Because I can't do it anymore. I can't keep living like this. He's going to kill me if I don't act first."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the diner's refrigerator.
"You're asking for a lot," Maren said finally, her tone cautious. "I only have your word and nothing else to go on."
Canan looked up, his eyes wide with a carefully calculated mixture of desperation and resolve. "Trust me, Agent, if we play our cards right, Wade's hubris will be his undoing and you'll have everything you need."
Maren studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a cold, deliberate tone. "Understand one thing, Officer Kane. If you're wrong about this, I will hang you out to dry."
As Canan left the diner, his mind raced. The hum in his chest flared, each pulse sharpening his focus. Every step he took belied urgency; there was no room for error.
He sent Maren the docks' location, knowing she and her team would need time to prepare. The IA agents moved swiftly, positioning themselves among the shipping containers and shadows.
Canan's next move was equally critical. His fingers flew over his phone's keyboard, typing a message with chilling precision.
To: Unknown
Your boy, Wade, is about to go down at the river docks. Thought you'd want to know.
He hit send and slipped the phone into his pocket, exhaling slowly. It was a calculated risk, but one he was willing to take. The mafia couldn't afford to let someone like Wade fall into IA custody. They'd move to silence him, creating the chaos Canan needed to escape unscathed.
The docks were a tableau of tension as Wade and his crew arrived. Canan stood in the center, his body language carefully calibrated to exude fear and submission. The duffel bag lay at his feet, its presence a silent trigger.
"You've got some nerve, Kane," Wade sneered, his voice booming across the lot.
Canan stayed silent, his head bowed, his shoulders trembling faintly.
Wade began his tirade, his words calculated to cut deep. He bragged about his accomplishments, implicating himself in years of corruption and murder. He painted himself as the patriarch of the precinct, a man who had risen to power through cunning and ruthlessness.
As Wade's rant reached its crescendo, Canan raised his head slightly, his expression darkening.
"You always underestimated me," he said softly, his voice carrying an eerie calm.
Before Wade could react, the shadows erupted. Flashlights burst through the darkness as IA agents swarmed the scene. Wade's men froze, their weapons clattering to the ground as figures in plain clothes emerged.
"You…" Wade's voice faltered as his gaze darted between Canan and the agents. Canan stepped closer, his expression cold, almost serene as Agent Maren stepped forward to cuff the crooked sergeant. Just then a sharp crack split the air, blood spattered all over Maren's blouse, and Wade crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The astonished agent leaped back frantically looking for the sniper, the rest of the agents' actions mirrored her own, but one person stood absolutely unfazed. A chill pervaded her senses as she glanced at the young officer, details clicked into place subconsciously. He had set this whole thing up, he had orchestrated the whole affair so meticulously, and now no one could refute his tale. She saw his long fingers twitch as he hooked his thumbs to his pockets while glancing coldly at the dead sergeant. A bizarre image of a puppeteer floated in her mind and she shook her head to clear it away. She barked orders into her radio, she couldn't back off from the deal, for now, Officer Kane would get off scot-free, but she resolved to keep an eye on him.
The docks fell silent once more, save for the faint rustle of the river's current and the murmurs of officers processing the scene.
Canan stood alone, his gaze fixed on Wade's body, his mind already moving beyond the moment.
The hum surged within him, resonating through his core. Satisfaction mingled with something deeper—acknowledgment. He felt a presence steadily growing in him, if previously it was like the size of glowing grape, now it was more like a brilliant apple. Subconsciously he understood that he had leveled up, and now he wanted more.
His thoughts turned inward, his vision expanding. He wasn't content to remain a mere cop, a cog in someone else's machine. The world was larger now, its possibilities infinite.
A wry smile spread across his face, his shadow stretching long against the concrete as he walked away, his long fingers twitching methodically.