"can I tell you a tale, Sir Veerang?… I promise it's a short one…"
Veerang's eyes snapped open and his pupils dilated. The muscles on his body tensed up. His heart beat irregular, he pulled himself closer to the table that was in front of him and subconsciously reached out to the revolver that was placed in the holster hanging by his ribcage.
Clenching at it, his eyes scrutinized his surroundings. There was cold sweat forming on his forehead and a portion of his grey shirt had darkened quite visibly. It was hot, indeed. So damn hot!
His breathing sounded out alone in that almost sound isolated room. There was a subtle but strange shiver in his body. His pupils traveled from left to right to make sure there was no distinction between now and ever.
It was as if the time had stopped for him. There was no movement and he would have indeed believed in it if not for the almost negligible sound of clock ticking away in the background. It was morning. Ten twenty-three…four, now, to be precise!
He put down his hand soon enough, noticing nothing whatsoever suspicious. Then pulled them up again and put them on the desk. He breathed in. Once, Twice. Thrice! If necessary, just to relax himself. Reminding himself constantly that he was no longer in a place where the scope of reality and imagination blurred. It was no dream.
Grabbing onto his forehead, he pulled his hairs back. His sweat moistened his black strands of hairs on his head, making them glisten a bit in the reflection of the sunlight falling on the tiled floor.
His eyes focusing. Mind shaken still, but there was a certain lucidity to his actions. He was, after all, not ignorant enough to fall for delusions. Well... not anymore.
Breaking out of his passive thought process, he gazed at the desk that was covered with various items. A telephone, files and documents, paper weights… but most glaring among them was a rolled off name plate with a bold name plastered on it — Veerang Agnimitra. Captain. District 7 department of security, The City of Marut.
Rolled off or fallen to ground… he cared not. His expressions had no change. Cold, as they had always been. Making him wonder, at times, whether he was even born with one. Sadly none knew. None would know either.
He reached out to the telephone. Almost as if about to make a call but he hesitated. Then tilting the telephone slightly, he pulled out the file that was pressed underneath it. He opened it and read the information written within.
[
Name: Atis Albet«image»
Gender: female
Age: 21
...
Occupation: student in district 7 branch college, the Marut City University.
Residence: District 7, City of Marut, Vaday province
Nationality: Uruk citizen
Other info: parents died in an accident when she was 6, lived in an orphanage named 'bells and whiskers' with her brother. Later moved out when she turned 18. Her brother, Markiv Albet, provided for her education and housing.
...
Status: living
]
A frown folded on his forehead inevitably. He had been through with this a couple of times already, and yet it gave him this strange unsettling feeling. As if something was off about it. Something missing; or maybe, something lost.
"Parents died when she was six…" he mumbled under his breath.
He leaned back on his chair and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts churning in his mind. Why? He questioned, why would someone want to hide it? Maybe…
He sat up straight once again and grabbed at the phone.
Kaching! Kaching!
The dial made the classical sound of rhythmic hitting and the phone started to ring.
Click!
Someone picked it up!
"Hello! This is marut city department of inquiry, how many I help you?" the other side sounded out.
"Yes, this is Captain Veerang of district seven security. I had called to inquire about the 'Albet Couple murder' about fifteen years back. Yes? Yes… Please deliver it as soon as possible. Thank you."
He put down the phone.
This was done. One thing at a time. He gazed back at the file with the information of the girl named Atis.
"STATUS: LIVING"
It appeared in front of him, like foreshadowing something imminent.
There was a bit of apprehension visible in his eyes, but steeling his resolve, he picked up the fountain pen from its holder and brought the file closer to make amends in it.
But before he could do so, a knock sounded from the door to his office.
"Who is it?" He asked.
"Sir, there is a report for you!" the man outside shouted.
"Come in." Veerang called the guy in.
The door creaked open, and a uniformed officer entered, offering a standard salute. The man looked clumsy, his small mustache twitching nervously, but Veerang knew better than to judge someone by appearances.
The officer stepped forward. "Sir, there's been activity at the property you instructed us to monitor."
Veerang stared at the man, his gaze unwavering and unreadable. The officer tensed but stood firm.
"Understood," Veerang said after a moment, nodding. He stood, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the room. The folded cuffs of his sleeves revealed veins running along his forearms, accentuating the quiet strength in his movements.
Without a word, Veerang walked past the officer toward the door, his steps deliberate and unhurried. He left behind the file, still open on the desk.
As the door clicked shut, a faint ripple passed across the photograph of Atis Albet in the file. Her face seemed to twist and blur, as if resisting being seen. The image wavered once, twice—and then, it was gone. Or maybe...it was still there. At the very least, I couldn't see it.