Chapter 4 - Law and Trauma

Screaming filled the air in the fallguard stadium. The scent of blood assailed the nostrils of a young leopard boy who was hiding under his seat and staring at the scene. The source of the smell, once a living dreamkeeper just like him, was now serving as an impromptu footstool for the murderer: a lean weasel man with a crazed look in his eyes and a radiant blood-red halo glowing over his head.

The power-using murderer let out a spine-chilling screech of laughter before continuing on his path of destruction. The boy under the seat couldn't stand to watch, but his gaze nonetheless remained fixed on the carnage. The few brave or foolish people who stood to challenge the murderer's advance were swiftly brought down before they could even realize it. A pulse of the heartless fiend's halo was the only sign of his power in use, rending massive bleeding holes in the chests of his victims in an instant. Fleeing innocents unfortunate enough to see their fellow dreamkeepers disposed of like this could only add to the chorus of terrified screams.

As the killer advanced through the rows of seats, the boy realized coldly that he was going to die in the same way. Cold, on the ground, with a gaping hole where his vital organs used to be. Screams of terror would be the only way that he would be mourned. It was a cruel irony that the primal terror rooting him in place was only going to lead him to a certain death.

After what felt to the boy like an age of waiting for the inevitable end, the damnable screaming ever present in his ears, the killer approached the seat he was hiding under. Reaching under to grab the boy, he laughed to himself before pulling the boy's face close to his own. A soft whisper, hardly audible under the cries of horror from the crowd, was the final thing the boy heard.

"Always remember, boy. Powers kill."

—

Lieutenant James Barlow awoke in a cold sweat. Another night, another damned iteration of his worst memory. He looked over at his wife, the lovely salamander woman still resting comfortably in bed with him. Barlow felt mixed feelings of relief and envy that she was not troubled by the same nightly torments that plagued him. A quick look at the clock on the nightstand revealed the time was close to 6 in the morning, thankfully close enough to when he usually woke for work. He pulled himself from the bed slowly so as not to wake his wife, and got to business getting ready for the day.

After getting dressed and having a light breakfast to start the day, Barlow started making his way to the police station. The large, imposing leopard man made his way along the streets of central Ruskol giving little mind to the brisk morning air. Between his thick, natural coat of fur and having spent most of his thirty years of life weathering the cold of his home district, Barlow had a considerable advantage against the elements, even in the most inhospitable of wintry conditions.

Some fellow early risers greeted Barlow along the way to the station. Every face bore familiarity to the police lieutenant, who regarded each one warmly as he went. These were the people he worked his life to protect from the worst of society's dregs, from the corruption that ran rampant in the underbelly of Andurunan society. Barlow was honored to be a part of the system that helped keep these people safe, and was proud of the work he put into ensuring that safety. In time, he made his way past the city streets and into the Central Ruskol Police Department.

The Police Department, while technically a division of Central City Authority, retained a feeling of hospitality that the CCA as a whole could never have. The local police forces had long been a staple of each district's law enforcement, and even almost three centuries of having been absorbed into the ranks of Sabbaton's homogenized bureau of law enforcement could not tear away the sense that the local police worked for the good of Ruskol first and Anduruna as a whole second. A whole army of the CCA's masked, impersonal shock troopers could never truly replace a small division of unmasked local officers in the hearts of the people. Barlow was all too happy to remind himself of that fact as he took in the sight of some of his even earlier rising coworkers preparing for the day.

After clocking in, Barlow made his way to his office and the mountains of paperwork he would have to manage. This was the one of the parts of the job he found intolerable: Rising to the rank of police lieutenant had taken him farther from the streets, and into a hell of pushing paper just so his subordinates could take care of the up close and personal work he truly longed for. After about an hour of reviewing documents, Barlow heard a knock on his office door.

"Hey, Lieutenant, got some donuts here," Barlow's blood ran cold as he saw a familiar murderous figure enter the office. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost." In an instant, logic won over Barlow's shock and he recognized the face of his close friend and subordinate Detective Marlon Banks.

"Not a ghost, just a bad memory."

"One of those nights again, huh? And I guess I was the killer this time?"

"Yeah. You were using a power that tears giant holes in people too. Sorry for giving you that look."

"Hey, Jay, it's fine." Banks took the seat in front of Barlow's desk, laying a box of donuts down on the free space in front of him. "It's not like you get to choose how your memories of that day play out."

"I can hardly call them real memories, honestly. The people and the power seem to change every time. The only thing I really remember from that day is the damn screaming."

"Ugh, that's gotta suck. Want a donut, help take your mind off things?"

"I don't think eating something with a hole in it will help me take my mind off that…"

"Right, shit. Sorry. That's gotta be the worst timing for bringing in donuts on my part."

"You don't need to apologize, Mar. If anything, it'll make for a good story for the other officers."

"Heh, like that time a few months back when you said you got choked by Tinsel Nanaja! And one of the guys said he'd love to have a night like that!"

"Ha ha, yeah. And after I said she was using her hair to do it he actually got even more interested!" Barlow leaned back in his seat. "Y'know, Mar. I'm lucky to have you around to help me laugh about all this."

"Any time, Jay. Any time." Banks looked over at the clock. "Well, it's about time for me to head out on patrol, check up on my informants."

"Already? Time flies, huh? I gotta head out myself. Got some paperwork to take to the CCA office, then some stuffy meetings to attend there. Wish I could still go take on the streets with you."

"That's what you get for being too good at your job, Jay. Moved up in rank and away from where you can steal the CCA's thunder."

"They gotta keep the police nice and barely competent so the shock troopers can look good, huh?"

"Ha! Yeah, I guess I'll just have to work hard for both of us, then!"

"I'm counting on it. You're my eyes and ears on the streets, Mar. Be careful out there."

"Right, you got it, boss. See ya, then!"

With a playful salute, Banks made his way out of the office, leaving Barlow to gather the paperwork for another dull day at the CCA's office in Sabbaton. Stuffing the various legal forms into a briefcase, he left the police department building in the direction of the district tower, soon enough joining a crowd of people headed for the same place as him.

Between the indistinct chatter of the crowd and the sheer number of people headed toward the tower, Barlow hadn't noticed until it was too late that he had bumped into two younger people in front of him. In that instant, he found himself stopped before the couple, who were already pulling themselves up from the ground: a skinny red snake man in a thick coat, and a brown-feathered eagle girl wearing a lighter coat, who seemed to be shivering.

"Oh, pardon me."

"Ah, um, i-it's no problem, we were moving a bit too slow anyway," the young man replied, his tail rattling slightly. "Sorry for getting in your way."

"Yeah, we weren't paying much attention. Sorry about that, sir."

"No, no. I'm sorry. It's my fault for not paying attention, myself."

"I-it's fine. I'm sure you're busy, sir. You can go on ahead."

"Well, thank you young man. I'll try to be more careful next time."

Barlow passed in front of the two and continued on his way to the tower, thinking about the event that just took place. The young man was on edge, likely because of seeing his police uniform. He'd seen that sort of behavior in citizens before, feelings of apprehension towards law enforcement despite not having any criminal history. That was another mark against the CCA in his mind, their oppressive aura making even the most innocent people afraid of misstepping and ending up on the wrong side of a law they had no idea they were breaking.

Barlow frowned. This kind of reaction from the public was troublesome. The police force, and the CCA by extension, would only be burdened more by having the people they were supposed to protect shuddering in fear of their protectors. He'd have to bring up his thoughts at the CCA office later, if he could get a word in during one of the meetings. With that thought giving him a much needed spring in his step, he eventually made his way to the telepad station and began his trip to the next worst part of his job.

—

After hours of putting up with bureaucratic nonsense that dragged on into the evening, Barlow eventually made his way back to the police station, exhausted. Like any other day at the main office, he'd had to endure the expected torture of getting the documents he prepared earlier in the day processed, reviewing the most minute details over and over to make sure everything was in order. After that, there were the meetings, which went over the same old buzzwords, slogans, and budget concerns that left next to no space for Barlow to voice his concerns about the public's impression of the law.

Barlow dragged himself to his office and opened his briefcase, which was now filled with new paperwork to be sorted through. Before he could begin digging into it, a brief knock on his door brought Detective Banks back into the office.

"Mar! Tell me you have something to distract me from all of this!" Barlow said, hopefully.

"Good news, Jay. I've got a lead on your favorite, a possible powers use infraction!"

"Spirits, that is good news. Getting power users off the streets is always good work. So, what's the lead?"

"Well, it's still just a possible infraction, the details aren't that clear yet. But one of my informants tells me there was apparently a demonstration last night with someone speaking against the powers ban, right here in central Ruskol!"

"You're kidding. Just last night? Got any more details?"

"Only that it was at some secret bar called the 'Mirage', and that this guy's going to be doing it again next week."

"That's gonna be a problem. Even if this bastard's not using a power himself, stirring up dissent against that law can't be good. If that sort of message gets to the wrong person, we could have a definite infraction on our hands, and at worst another tragedy like twenty years ago."

"Never again, right?"

"Never again. I'm not the only one who still suffers from that day, but I'll be damned if anyone else has to live through that sort of thing."

Banks put his hand on Barlow's shoulder. "Well, you know I'm with you on that. I'll see what I can find out about the Mirage bar and these demonstrations."

"See that you do. You're doing good work, Mar. As for me, I'll try to get through this paperwork, then see if I can get started on helping your investigation along."

"Right, I'll just get out of your hair, then. Good luck with the paperwork, boss!"

Banks left the office, giving a salute like the one earlier in the day. Barlow's brow furrowed as he considered the implications of Banks's lead. A protest against the powers ban was the exact kind of thing that he found impossible to understand. Why would anyone in their right mind argue for deadly abilities like powers to be brought back into legality? Probably just some dumb kid that thinks it would be "cool…"

Whatever the case, Barlow pursuing the case himself would have to wait until the paperwork was taken care of. He sat down at the desk and started reviewing the documents, reinvigorated by the thought of taking this powers apologist off the streets. Never again, the thought echoed through his mind as he moved from page to page of paperwork.

Never again.