Mission_13: Termination
Whi-Two sits across Colonel Rikhard, a confused look on her face as she slowly looks up from the document in front of her.
"I… Don't understand."
The blonde colonel smiles good-naturedly, peering at the slightly dumbfounded girl through his round, thin-rimmed glasses.
"Well, I'm not sure what more is there to explain that's not covered by the document, dear, but I will be more than happy to try."
He then leans forward and taps his pen on the document, the butt of his pen hitting on the bold letters that seemed to jump out of the pages and dance around the table, not letting Whi-Two comprehend.
"This is the document that makes your acceptance as an inspector of the UPD, Aspertia Division, official!" Colonel Rikhard cheers. He tries to gauge if there was any form of understanding to be surmised from the girl's eyes. But as they were before, her eyes were still dumbfounded.
Horror-stricken, even. The colonel chooses to ignore it in hope that he may have just imagined it.
"Of course, the logistical concerns like your uniform and your new office are still in the works, and they usually take a while, especially for sudden promotions such as this, but... The paperwork is already here!"
His kind smile grows into a beam.
"Congratulations, Officer Rosa Bilden, for being the youngest officer to be granted inspector rank in the entire history of the Aspertia Division."
Rikhard looks at Whi-Two expectantly, even reaching out his hand slightly to see if she has shaken her shock away, But Whi-Two does not move, and performs a short back-and-forth of her gaze from the document to the already-celebrating colonel, and then back.
Then she lets out a nervous giggle.
"S-Sir, this is an honor, but... It's all happening so fast." Her smile fades too quickly.
"I just got back here."
Rikhard returns to his initial demeanor, but his good-natured smile remains intact as he lowers himself back to his chair.
"Well, yes, I do admit, there was something... atypical with the speed of the processing, but I guess that's only expected when a proposal has the endorsement of a well-respected name in the UPD."
The girl's eyes immediately darted forward at the realization. Rikhard does not notice.
"You know, I spoke with Inspector Lack-Two over the phone-charming young man, that he is-and he gave such wonderful reviews of your performance back at Main that it was almost impossible for the higher-ups to deny our claims to have you jump all the way to level-3 inspector. Isn't that great?" Colonel Rikhard then sighs.
"It's just too bad things are the way they are right now. Otherwise…" The old man whistles as he looks up wistfully.
"To be a high-ranking officer in Main... Officer Harold Biden would have been so proud of his little girl."
Whi-Two feels her heart break a little at the mention of her father's name. In all the chaos brought about by the past few months, she hadn't found herself a spare minute to think about him up until now.
With all that she's caused, what would he have made of her? Would he really have been proud?
The young officer notices that her colonel was still watching her expectantly.
She smiles ruefully at him before looking down again.
"That's incredibly nice of you, Sir, but... I'm afraid I can't share in that pride."
Rikhard's smile completely fades as understanding dawns on him.
Perhaps he did have to acknowledge the massive elephant in the room.
"Look, my dear. I don't know exactly what went on back in Main, and I am not the one to pry for information I am clearly in no position to know. But I am a good enough detective to know that there is more to it than what knowledge is readily available for us, and something tells me there's a lot you can say to confirm or deny that."
He reaches forward and lands a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.
"But, frankly, my dear, none of that matters here. What matters for me, along with the colleagues you have grown with here, is that you came home a hero."
Whi-Two feels a lump in her throat, making a small whimper escape her defenses.
Hero.
The word made her feel sick.
Rikhard immediately stands up and goes to her, panicking at the sight of tears.
"Oh, but you really are, dear!" he claims, landing both his hands on her chair's backrest.
"You made such remarkable progress in the short time you were there! I couldn't be prouder. You really are our reliable rookie."
Whi-Two takes a long, deep breath to stop herself from further losing herself. Then, with a sad smile through her already fallen tears, she looks up at him.
"With all due respect, Colonel, I am no hero. Let alone reliable. I don't deserve any of these phrases, nor do I deserve to be in a position where I lead others into a path I myself am not sure I can still see from where I stand."
Rikhard's smile completely fades.
"I took this job years ago because I believed in what the UPD could do for its country. My father believed in what UPD can do for its country. I wanted to be part of that effort that pulls us all from this miserable state we are in, but somehow, I made it worse."
She feels a choke escape her, and once again, she fights it away with a sigh.
A technique she's begun to master due to unfortunate need.
"You know, Colonel, I never got to tell you: On my way here in the subway, I chanced upon two young troopers in their uniform sitting quietly in a corner, and I could sense the tension their uniforms cause the other civilians."
She coughs a bit, lowering her gaze from her now worried colonel, and focuses it at the empty chair across the table from her.
"The UPD should be a symbol of safety. Of assurance. Telling the world that as long as we're here, nothing bad can ever happen to anyone. After all, we made a vow to serve and protect-words we recite to ourselves every Monday morning. Heck, words I recite to myself every morning."
Tears begin to flow down her cheeks as she struggles to keep the small smile in her trembling lips.
"But today, what I saw in those civilians was fear. Dissent. Doubt. Rage. And I can't for the life of me stand here and be praised knowing full well I was a huge cause of everything that has happened that brought us to where we are."
"Rosa, my dear…"
Rikhard attempts to reach out to her, but is stopped when Whi-Two immediately rises from her seat.
The sound of her chair screeching as it was pushed back filled the silent office for a brief moment, and was immediately replaced by the soft noises Whi-Two produces as she fishes through her purse.
To the old man's chagrin, the young officer pulls out her badge.
"As a matter of fact, sir, I am not here to accept a new position in Aspertia. I'm actually here to return this."
She gently puts the badge down on the table, her whole body still faced forward, her eyes refusing to meet the colonel's pained look.
Whi-Two just focused her gaze forward. To the empty seat across the table from her.
She stared at it so intently that it was almost as if she was trying to draw in a figure.
A familiar figure.
Whi-Two could already picture his dark brown eyes looking at her in the piercing way that they did, everything else about him stiff and frozen save for his quite unruly set of brown hair, gently swaying along with him as he breathed.
She could only smile at the thought.
"It has been an honor and a pleasure working with the UPD, Sir," she mouths gently, feeling a new set of warm tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Thank you for everything."
Rikhard takes a deep breath as she follows her gaze for a bit. Then he looks down in defeat.
"...I understand, dear," he whispers, walking back to his place at his desk. He sits on the empty seat Whi-Two was focusing on, effectively waking her from her slight trance.
She feels her knees slightly buckle, making her fall softly back to her seat.
"It is a shame though. Really, it is. You don't just come across such fine police officers with your passion and skills. You will be dearly missed, Rosa."
Then his face becomes serious.
"If you don't mind me asking…"
Whi-Two looks up at him.
"What will you be doing now?"
The question throws her a bit off. For the past few weeks or so, she had been doing a good job of dodging the question, and up until now, she was lucky enough to not have anyone-from her colleagues, her very few friends who actually know what's going on, to even her own family-ask her about the thing she so dreads to think about.
What will she do from now?
Living your entire life following a carefully crafted plan does not really prepare you for questions like this, she realizes.
She looks up again, and finds Colonel Rikhard still watching her expectantly, and with apparent worry.
Afraid to cause even more distress to her superiors, she churns out the first thing her head was able to give her.
"... I'd actually want to go home now, Sir."
-...-
Lack-Two walks begrudgingly into the station's entrance, causing a few heads to turn his way. Only a few of them acknowledge his presence-giving a nod or an occasional small smile to his direction-while the rest only give him a short, solemn look before going about their business. Lack-Two paid none of them any heed, and proceeded to walk the long, one-man procession of making his way to his office, passing through empty tables that seem to rise in number everyday. He hears a few whispers here and there as he drags his feet against the tiled floors, but as he had the days before, he simply snides to their direction before allowing himself a sip of his coffee.
And as soon as he tastes the burning sensation of bitterness and feels it course through his throat down to his stomach, all the scenery of what was once a lively but now almost desolated bullpen becomes normal to him. Or, at the very least, acceptable. And he was once again Inspector Lack-Two, one of the remaining high-ranking officers of their precinct who was left there to manage whatever was left of what used to be the glamorous Main.
And it was fine.
"Good morning, Inspector," a well-suited man greets him, almost half-heartedly, as soon as he enters his office.
"Nice of you to join us today. Though, when I realized it was already about an hour since you were supposed to be here, I thought you just decided not to come."
Lack-Two sneers at him as he lowers his cup on his desk.
"Yeah, sorry I'm late," he mumbles, throwing his bag down on the floor before throwing himself to his chair. He lets it swivel a bit upon impact before letting himself face his desk, and ultimately, the man watching him expectantly.
With deadpan eyes, he continues:
"I didn't want to come."
The man in the suit frowns at him, but simply sighs. He knew he had far more important matters to attend to than starting yet another fight with a man who clearly has nothing better to do with his life. He didn't have all day.
With a grunt, he takes the thick stack of papers clutched underneath his arms and drops it quite heavily onto Lack-Two's desk.
The latter simply snorts at it.
"You know, you could've just done that before I got here," he points out with a sigh.
"What? You've been carrying that for the past hour waiting for me?" Then he leans back condescendingly.
"And here I thought UNPol couldn't get any more ridiculous. They ought to write sitcoms out of you."
The man glowers at him even more.
"Inspector Alart, need I remind you of the position you, and whatever is left of your team, are in?"
"You could," Lack-Two quickly quips. "But I'm still going to just rephrase it in my head the same way, anyway."
He leans forward to sift through the stack of papers.
"We're just glorified babysitters for all the people you guys arrest. Interrogations here, detainments there…" He pauses a bit as he slams his hand on top of the stack.
"And a shit ton of paper work either way."
He grimaces at his desk.
"Jimmy, have I ever told you how much I hate paperwork?"
"Only every single day, Inspector," Jimmy replies through gritted teeth. Then he sighs.
"I still can't believe Officer Hugh duped me into switching assignments with him. You UPD officers are impossible."
Lack-Two gives him a mocking smile.
"Aren't we, though?"
Then his face drops as he starts scanning through the files. Jimmy notices the now serious glint that has gradually filled his countenance, and that's when he knew it was finally the time that he could have at least a decent conversation with the inspector. He straightens himself out and clears his throat.
"We've just cleared up two more drug dens around the outskirts of Driftveil and were able to detain fifteen men, who are now in your holding cells, and confiscate around ten million dollars' worth of this thing called the 'Love Drug'. Along with that, we've found around two trucks' loads of missing UPD weaponry, which brings the completion rate to forty percent." Then, with a triumphant smile, he adds:
"So in case anyone was keeping score, that's five drug dens taken down, around sixty-two men detained, and forty percent of missing weapons retrieved, and in like what? One month since we took over?" Jimmy huffs with pride.
"And what does UPD give to the table?"
"All the evidence and information that you needed to get those numbers up?" Lack-Two brings up with a smile. The UNPol officer frowns. He clears his throat again.
"Point of the matter is, Inspector, that we, UNPol, were able to do more in one month than what UPD was able to do in the past three years. If you asked me, I think this whole debacle with Main is long overdue. Who knew that all it had to take was a lowly detective and her dumb luck."
Lack-Two's nails dig heavily into his cup, suddenly filling his office with a loud popping sound. Jimmy watches as the inspector allows without wincing the still steaming coffee drip all over his hand. The UNPol agent actually finds himself stepping back in shock.
But the inspector's expression was the same. He looked at him expectantly, and the UNPol officer had to shake away the slight fear for his life in order to continue the conversation.
"A-Anyway…," Jimmy slightly stammers. "I was given orders to ask you and your team to perform interrogations to the newly-arrested fifteen men, most notably the one they're claiming to be their leader. One Joven Dailo?"
Lack-Two's brow raised slightly at the familiarity of the name, but other than that he stood still. Jimmy once again clears his throat.
"I take it with your seniority and years of experience, it won't take much from you to be able to get more information from Mr. Dailo about their operations? Perhaps even to finally identify the one they call 'Mr. Smith'?"
At that, Lack-Two's posture begins to visibly relax, as his face conjures back to his playful, almost condescending smirk. Yet somehow, the threatening, almost sinister aura, still emitted from his entire being, making Jimmy shrink.
For the first time since he's first stepped into Unova, he actually felt like he was going to die there.
"S-Shall I expect great results from the legendary Mr. Perfect?" he tries to joke in an attempt to hide his fear. But his voice cracks, making Lack-Two's smile even wider.
"Aw, come now, James."
He reaches over a piece of paper from the stack of documents and starts wiping his hand with it, all while keeping eye contact with the now visibly trembling UNPol Officer.
"Flattery can only get you so far."
-...-
"Inspector Nate," an officer salutes, greeting Lack-Two as he enters the observation room. He nods back in acknowledgement.
"Sergeant Hilbert," he greets as he takes his place next to the officer who was watching a room through a window. It was an almost empty room, save for a table, a few chairs, and a lone, gruff-looking man. Lack-Two notes the man's demeanor: shoulders lax, legs wide open, and arms crossed over his chest. A scowl that could almost match his smear across the man's face, and that's when he knew this man would not say anything.
"Notes on the perp?" he asks, matching the man's stance carefully.
"Joven Dailo. They just brought him in last night. Charged for drug trafficking and even alleged counterfeiting. He's also suspected to be the function leader of their operations here in Nimbasa, and the UNPol strongly believe he might be the key for us to reach the big kahuna, 'Mr. Smith'. But, as luck would have it, UNPol can't get a word out of him."
"At least we know we can count on their consistency in being useless," Lack-Two mutters. Sergeant Hilbert Ladinsky snorts with a small smile.
"Oh, they would totally have your ass if they heard you say that," he teases, facing him.
"But it feels good to laugh, Nate. Thank you."
"Please," Lack-Two snorts as well. "They can have it. I'd serve it up on a silver platter for them if they want. I have enough for everyone."
Hilbert raises his brows and leans back a bit to take a peek.
"I can see that," he whistles.
"You know, you're lucky no one else can see us right now. Otherwise, the next body to come to your wife's office will be yours."
Hilbert grimaces.
"Yeah, and knowing Hilda, she'd probably want me to come to her alive." Then he shudders.
"At first."
Then he gives Lack-Two a knowing look.
"Well, given that UNPol showed us what we already know about their competency, what say you get your generous ass over there and show them how it's done."
"And in spite of that objectifying comment, I will."
-...-
Joven looks around the empty room once again, tracing with his eyes the air conditioning vents that lined the ceiling, the faint whirring coming from it making more apparent the fact that no air seems to seep through them to give at least a little bit of relief for him. He clicks his tongue.
All this rave about UPD Nimbasa facilities and they couldn't even bother making their interrogation rooms the least bit pleasant. As if they can get anything from criminals by literally burning a fire to their bottoms.
No wonder they barely made any arrests in the past. This precinct was a joke.
He was in the business of trying to make a small crack along one of the vents with his mind when he hears the metal door squeak, and along with the cold air coming from the relatively more ventilated hallways enters a man in uniform. Joven immediately greets him with a scowl, as he had with the various officers that had been coming and going since last night, but is taken aback when he sees that the man gazed at him with the same expression.
Joven Dailo actually finds himself shrinking a bit in his presence.
This one doesn't seem like any of his predecessors.
The officer places himself silently in the empty chair across him, as those that have come before him. With the number of times he's been in an interrogation room, Joven had already memorized the routines these officers would perform that it has become an involuntary thing with him to recite in his head their next moves:
Upon sitting down, the officer in question will take a deep sigh, lean over and fold his arms on the table, make direct eye contact with him as they pronounce his name slowly and carefully. Then, in the step by step regimen that was as old as crime itself, the interrogation dance begins.
It was almost always the same thing with these people: confront, insinuate, build trust, and when they know that they've caught you right where they want you, it's already over, and you may even find yourself confessing to things you never even did.
That was how they got you.
But Joven has been in this business long enough to know the finer points of the game, which is essentially why he was here long enough to begin with. He knew the key was to remain silent. And angry. And dubious. Ensure that he has no emotional openings that not even the greatest officers can penetrate and take advantage of.
And almost always, he'll get to walk out of that precinct without a single scratch.
To his surprise, however, this particular officer does not follow any of the protocols he's mastered resisting to. He doesn't do anything at all.
He just sits there, mirroring his stance almost perfectly, his eyes not looking directly at him, but seemingly beyond him.
Joven waits for him to say something that would signal the start of the interrogation, but he does not. The young criminal's eyebrows furrowed.
Alertly, he starts observing his surroundings, thinking perhaps that there was some sort of clue that will tell him what this officer was actually trying to do, but aside from the atmosphere being more bearable than before, everything was the same.
Then a thought immediately occurs to him.
He was actually feeling splashes of cold breeze in his face. Joven turned directly to the door and found that it was wide open.
He could actually just walk out if he wanted to.
Joven immediately turns his gaze back at the officer, who still hasn't moved from his initial position, and he actually finds himself looking at him more intently, trying but failing to read his expressions.
They lock eyes for a good minute or so, until Joven finds himself not taking the silence anymore, and starts cackling to himself.
"This is a joke right?" he says out loud. To his surprise, the officer actually chuckles as well.
"Well, well, well," the officer almost purrs, this time matching Joven's now slightly uneasy stance with a more relaxed posture.
It somehow drove Joven insane.
"What is this?" he growls at him. "Some sort of new fancy tactics by the UPD? Well, I'm telling you right now, hot shot, I ain't telling you nothing about Mr. Smith."
To this surprise, the officer's smile grew wider.
"And who's Mr. Smith?" he asks calmly. Joven was taken aback by his own statement.
The officer chuckles as he reaches for one of the folders he placed on the table, and starts leafing through it.
"Isn't that curious, Mr. Dailo? According to the records and notes here provided by the officers that came before me, there was never an explicit question thrown upon you about that particular name. As a matter of fact, you actually never talk much during interrogations, and most of those times, you just ask for legal counseling. So…"
It was then that the officer finally took upon the familiar stance of all the officers Joven had faced in the past, although now, he can't seem to push himself to take his eyes off him, mostly out of fear and anticipation on what he was about to do next.
"I-I… I ain't telling you nothing."
The officer just shrugs.
"That's fine," he muses. "Most of our evidence already points to you somehow being related to this Mr. Smith, whose name is, let's face it, the biggest one there is in this whole operation of yours. And honestly, all we're lacking now is confirmation coming from you. So whether or not you say anything else on the subject, the fact that you know him and have voluntarily provided that information without me having to ask about it can already be considered a confession, and I can already arrest you for that."
Joven was horror-stricken.
"If I'm being frank with you, I can actually end the interrogation right now and still consider it as a success. But it is my obligation as a UPD officer to present all options to the person under interrogation, so here: cooperate and tell us everything you can about this Mr. Smith and his operations, and we might relax your charges enough that you may actually be able to see the light outside of prison one day."
At that, Inspector Lack-Two's smile grew even wider, making him look borderline cheerful, and as soon as both rows of his teeth showed up, realization dawned on Joven, making him even more mortified.
Suddenly he was certain that he'd seen this kid with that goofy smile before.
"So what do you say, Joven?" Lack-Two asks, almost mockingly.
"Care to have a deal with me?"
-...-
Hilbert watches from the door as two officers come into the interrogation room to lead Dailo back to his cell, his face full of what seemed like frustration. Lack-Two still sat there across him, his arms crossed as he watched the man be processed in that undecipherable look in his eyes, making the other inspector shudder.
He clears his throat and steps in, walking towards the wordless inspector.
"Gotta hand it to you, Inspector," he greets, landing his hand by the back of Lack-Two's seat, making the latter lean forward a bit to avoid contact.
"You may hate interrogations, but damn, you are good at it."
Lack-Two only shrugs.
"Yeah, yeah, compliments are futile unless they come from a pretty lady..." Hilbert rolls his eyes. Then he turns to the young inspector and reaches out his hand to him, handing over a familiar blue jacket to him.
"Talked to the chief and he said you can take off as soon as you get what we want out of the perp. I can take care of the rest."
Then his eyes soften as his smile turns wistful.
"I know how much you hate coming by here nowadays. Lemme spare you the unwanted bureaucracy."
Lack-Two only sighs at him.
"I don't need favors from anyone here, especially from the chief."
"Yeah, I know. But you're getting them anyway. Now, come on."
And with a grunt, Lack-Two picks himself up from his seat and takes his jacket from the other inspector. Hilbert gives him a good-natured pat before joining the other officers, handcuffs in his hand.
His voice gets drowned away along with the other noises that Lack-Two had tuned out. Instead, the young inspector only focuses on the blazer now in his hand. With a soft grunt, he throws it backwards, drapes it over his shoulders, and starts putting it on.
Joven watches him as he moves, only half listening to the officers by his side.
Then realization hits his eyes, and he speaks:
"Hey, I remember you."
The officers froze in silence. They watch as Lack-Two slowly moves his eyes towards the man, his nonchalant gaze slightly tainted with curiosity.
Joven squints at him.
"Yeah… You're that kid from the park. From a year ago. The one going overseas with the girlfriend who's doubting you…"
Gilbert and the other officers held their breath at the words. This was the first time someone was able to identify Lack-Two from his undercover missions.
But Lack-Two seemed unfazed. Gilbert shoots him a look of concern, which the Inspector inwardly despises.
Still, he says nothing.
Joven continues on.
"So you're that undercover cop that roughed up my warehouse down by the border…" he scoffs with realization. Then his face brightens up with more epiphany.
"Which means so was that girl!" he exclaims. His posture suddenly became more lax despite the officer's chagrin.
"Who knew? That all this time the girl Mr. Smith had us all looking for is the same girl from the duo I swore I'd go to hell and back to find. The same girl whose name is being mentioned all over town." He grins maliciously.
"Suddenly, all of this feels worth it."
It was Gilbert who was first to snap out of it. He immediately grabs the perpetrator by the shoulder and pulls him roughly to sit straight.
"Sir, you have the right to remain silent," he growls. "I highly suggest you use that right to-"
"They'll find her, you know."
Lack-Two blinks at him.
"Yeah, see we're good at that. Finding people. The UPD and the media can work all they want to conceal names and we can still track them down. You shouldn't underestimate us. At least enough to think it's fine to make even the tiniest screwup like, say, showing your faces to me."
Gilbert tried to raise his voice to overpower Joven's, but somehow, Lack-Two can only hear the latter's voice. He seemed to grow louder and louder. And closer.
Soon he could just focus on Joven's face, and his face alone.
"...And yes, you may have me and some of our men now, but there is more of us than you can probably count, and I am telling you right now, you can scour the entirety of Nimbasa, or even of Unova, and you can never, ever, completely subdue us. There will always be more of us. Which means, no matter how fast you try to clean us up, I can assure you we can and will be faster. So pray that your little partner can hide, because we will get to her. And once we do..."
Lack-Two feels his nails dig into his palm as his right hand involuntarily forms into a fist.
"It will all be because of you."
And it was the last thing anyone hears before Joven's face is met by Lack-Two's fist.
-...-
"Inspector Lack-Two, will you please put that away?"
The cigarette in between Lack-Two's fingers freezes midway to his lips. He looks up blankly at the gentleman sitting across from him, on the other side of the superintendent's desk, then with a sigh, he continues on, even going as far as lighting it.
Cheren heaves a long, weary sigh.
"Very well," he concedes, straightening himself as an attempt to meet Lack-Two at eye level.
"Do you know why I summoned you here this time, Inspector?"
Lack-Two puffs a mouthful of smoke before answering.
"Hard to tell," he says plainly. "If I'm being honest, Cheren, with how frequent I've been called to your office, I've begun to think this is a weekly thing now."
"That's because every week, at least one new complaint is lodged to my desk containing your name, Lack-Two," Cheren snaps at him. Then he takes another deep breath to try and calm himself again.
"And most of the time, I'd let you off with a warning because I know you're going through something and that all you need is time to heal, and…"
"Don't give me that," Lack-Two suddenly quips, looking Cheren in the eye for the first time since he's entered his office.
"I don't need your pity, Cheren."
"This isn't pity, Lack-Two," Cheren retorts calmly, albeit resignedly.
"As I've repeated to you time and again, I am not giving away sympathy to my officers. I am giving solidarity. Because I know that this is what we all need in these times when-"
"These times are not different, Cheren," Lack-Two snaps. "Save your bullshit propaganda for the idiots outside this office who still think this is a fluke. I know for a fact that this… This is reality."
He breathes, letting smoke out of his lips, an empty, almost lifeless look in his eyes.
"It's just that, this time, we got caught."
Cheren gave him a bitter scowl as he pursed his lips, physically restraining himself from saying anything in response to the sullen inspector. Instead, he opted for his default reactions to almost everything that's transpired since it all started spiraling down.
He takes a deep breath, and lets it all out in one weary sigh.
"I understand that you have much to vent out, and that you have your own process, Lack-Two, but," Cheren notes the bruises in Lack-Two's knuckles as he exposed them while taking another puff of smoke.
"Really? Police brutality? Bullying our UNPol colleagues, and even threatening them? Even for you, that's taking it too far."
"Taking what too far, Cheren?" the brunet snaps.
"This month-long tantrum of yours, Inspector!" Cheren snaps, finally slamming his then clenched together hands towards the table.
"I am sick and tired of you acting like you're the only one devastated by what happened! We're all affected, Inspector. We're all hurting. But we don't go around acting like everyone owes us an apology for just trying to get by and live through it. I mean…"
Cheren looked down, an apparent look of pain in his eyes as they landed on a picture by his desk, of him and an enthusiastic blonde by his side, both proudly wearing their HNT combat training uniform.
"You're not the only one who lost their most cherished partner."
Then he returns his gaze back to the inspector, now sharper and with even more pain.
"But I don't go around punching suspects and threatening superiors, because I'm a professional, and I know how to do my job right-a quality I once thought you had."
Lack-Two leered at him with contempt. Cheren's words contained so much meaning. But instead of responding, he simply exhaled his last puff of smoke, pulled the still lit cigar butt away from his lips. Then, wordlessly, he walks closer to Cheren's desk, takes his photo, lays it down flat, and, in an act more defiant than the acting superintendent has ever seen since he first sat in that table, Lack-Two presses the pressed the stub straight onto the photo, directly at Cheren's face.
All while refusing to break eye contact.
Cheren grits his teeth in annoyance.
"You are unbelievable, Nate Alart," he growls. "And I am done trying to give you the patience and understanding your sorry ass clearly needs but don't deserve."
He snatches the photo from Lack-Two and starts walking towards the door.
"When I return, I want to see your badge on my table and your office cleared. I want it all to look like you never existed here, because frankly?"
He pauses as he opens the door.
"As far as I'm concerned, you never did."
Then he slams the door.
Lack-Two does not turn. Instead, lifts his arms, opens up his faded blue jacket, and pulls out a leather holder with a newly-polished badge. He stares at it for a bit before silently laying it down the wooden table.
Then he looks at the entire structure for a short while before silently performing a salute.
And then, wordlessly, he turns on his heel, and starts towards the door.
-...-
Lack-Two sped through the almost empty streets of Nimbasa, his head filled with thoughts yet empty at the same time. Numerous images ran before his eyes–different scenes alternating between the road before him, and everything moved so fast that his mind couldn't make sense of it all.
His mind refused to make sense of it all.
He turns into a sharp corner, not slowing down, letting the inertia almost throw him out of his side window, the loosely latched seatbelt barely containing him.
Turn by turn, the streetlights and storefronts turned into familiar faces and pragmatic scenes–his mind wandered anywhere it could possibly go, and he let it jump from one thought to another.
He didn't allow himself to process anything.
Seconds later, he feels his eyelids drop, almost crashing themselves to his tear ducts, and he feels a short but unmistakable burn.
Lack-Two then realized since he left the station, got into his car, and sped away, that he didn't blink. Not even once.
Suddenly, the road before him became clear again.
He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, he felt his hands gradually loosen their grip on the wheel. The ringing pain danced around his now reddened, sweaty palms. He could feel the rough, textured, rubbery surface, and somehow it hurt him.
For a moment, the realization of hurt scared him.
He tries to take another deep breath to collect himself. And when it didn't work, he tried to take another one again.
And another.
And another.
And before he knew it, he was already taking air in and out of his body so quickly, his lungs couldn't keep up. His body begins to lose its firmness, and his vision begins to darken.
Once again, the roads turn into familiar faces.
He saw Hugh with the look of disappointment and disgust painted all over his eyes as he walked away, never uttering a word to him since. Not even a half-hearted farewell.
Lack-Two didn't know if they'll ever have a chance.
He saw the Superintendent, wearing the same pair of kind eyes as when he was dragged away from his office by UNPol Officers, as if, even in what seemed to be his lowest moment, decided to reassure his subordinate that all will still be well.
All was not well.
He saw Lai, lifeless–he saw her dimmed stare. He remembers the life that was once in them. He remembers how brightly they shone–the way she looked at him with that unconditional trust she gave him. Despite who he was and how he carried himself around her, and everyone.
And he took that trust and killed her with it.
A loud, blaring horn ends his train of thought abruptly, and his instincts kick in barely quick enough for him to narrowly avoid another vehicle speeding towards him. The horn was immediately replaced by his own tires screeching, and then, almost too suddenly, he heard a loud thud.
The impact was not hard enough to activate the airbag, but it was enough to throw him violently back to his seat, the head rest hitting the back of his head squarely.
For a brief moment after the hit, he sees Whi-Two.
He sees the way she looked at him with fear and disbelief.
And anger.
He remembers how his guts clenched, his throat blocked, and his extremities numb.
Lack-Two remembers barely keeping his defenses.
After one deep breath, Lack-Two proceeds to perform the familiar dance of checking whether he was still alive. Eyes clenched, he grips on his left pulse and dreads the feeling of his heartbeat faintly hitting against his palm. The speed of each beat made him sick–dreadful how hard it worked to keep him alive.
At that moment, he didn't want to be.
Another long, deep breath, he urges himself to open his eyes again and let reality hit him. Slowly, he turns his head to his left, and sees a familiar structure, and almost immediately, the speed of his heartbeat begins to slow down.
The blur from the tears begin to clear away, and not long after, he could already make the rather peculiar square-shaped structure–a small yet colorful fountain fenced by marble stones with texts etched in them.
Lack-Two watches the colors bounce around the now unusually empty Nimbasa Square for a while, all the thoughts from before now gradually flushing themselves from his weary mind.
His head, for the first time in forever, was empty.
Without much thought, he puts his car in reverse, drives it absentmindedly to the nearest empty spot he could find, and parks askew. Then he fumbles around to release himself from his seatbelt, opens his glove compartment, and then brings out a carton of cigarettes.
Lack-Two needed to smoke.
–
"Here lies the dearly departed who were victims of the dreaded, darkest chapter of Unova. Through this tribute, we honor and remember those whom we have lost during the Nimbasa Bombing of 2012. Our hearts are with all who are hurting from these losses. May this chapter be the first and last."
Lack-Two puffs out a large amount of smoke as he reads the words over and over again. He feels a hitch in his throat as he does, but as with the previous 10 or so breaths, he chose to blame the nicotine.
"May this chapter be the first and the last"-for so long, these words were spoken both like a prayer and a motto. It was what shaped UPD for so long, what shaped him in his chosen profession. Lack-Two knew it would always be a hope rather than a promise, but somehow, he took them, and treated them as truth.
That chapter was the first and last. At least it was supposed to be.
He meant it to be.
Everyday he traced his eyes along those words, and he felt a sense of calm because he knew that it didn't matter if his life was always on the line, so long as those nine words remained true.
Everyday save for today.
Another puff of smoke, and he lets his eyes drop a little lower, almost out of habit, towards the wall of names that reached all the way to the floor, where flowers, pictures, and everything the living could ever think of offering the dead sprawled across.
With how often Lack-Two had laid eyes on that wall, he could practically recite the names one by one from memory, but there will always be that one name that will float among the rest–that one name that will always serve as both inspiration and a cruel, cruel taunt.
Leslie Hemmingway…
She would've been 10 years old by now, as old as his niece.
He wonders what kind of life would she have been living now if it weren't for his own incompetence. Then, in an episode of cruelty to himself, he wonders if she was better off.
Another puff, then another, then another…
And soon, Lack-Two was coughing out smoke.
"Excuse me…"
Lack-Two looks to his side and sees a woman looking back at him with worry.
And arguably a small hint of contempt.
"Do you mind?" she asks, gesturing to her belly. Lack-Two immediately understands, and in between coughing, he apologizes and turns away, hoping facing the other way would help.
It didn't.
The woman watches on, the same expression of concern and disdain in her face.
"Not to be that person but… smoking is bad for you, you know."
Lack-Two was stunned by the boldness of the statement, so much so that it brought a small smile to his face as he hacked what he hoped was the last of the smoke.
Then he straightens himself before facing.
"Yes, sorry," he says between rasps.
"Was just hoping it would do its job a little faster."
Lack-Two regrets the statement as soon as he mentions it, but to his surprise, the woman chuckles snidely.
"If you really wanted to suffer, I'd recommend being eight months pregnant," she laughs, dawdling closer to him.
"Requires much less lung abuse…"
Lack-Two eyes the woman, before smiling, almost chuckling to himself.
"As a matter of fact, I would if I could." He clears his throat one last time before throwing away the almost non-existent butt.
"Seems less expensive…"
"You wish," the woman snorts. Then she drops her eyes at Lack-Two's discarded stub, and sighs with lament.
"God, I miss smoking."
"Bum you one?" Lack-Two jokes, handing out his box to her, making her giggle.
"Thanks," she smiles.
"But, my baby prefers weed."
"Ahh, too bad… I just finished mine."
They share another laugh–Lack-Two's much softer, but still apparent. And then silence.
The woman was the first to break.
"So… which one's yours?"
The question stuns Lack-Two for a moment. The woman watches him with understanding.
"I understand," she whispers. "I guess not everyone is ready to talk about it by now, though I don't blame you."
She steps forward and reaches out to trace her fingers against one of the names on the wall.
"It took me years before I could get myself to come here. Sucks that I have to be like this when I finally do."
Lack-Two watches her for a moment before sighing solemnly.
"I-I'm sorry for your loss…"
"Thank you," the woman was quick to respond. Then she smiles impishly.
"Frankly, we're all still trying to wrap our heads around it–this loss, I mean, but…" She nods in a stiff manner–a classic way to stop one's self from crying.
Lack-Two was all too familiar with stiff nods.
"...But thank you."
Lack-Two bit his lips, and started to shuffle. The air immediately became uncomfortable.
"I was there, you know."
The young ex-officer looks up and back at her with surprise. The woman chuckles again in response.
"Sorry, I don't know why I felt like I needed to tell you that, but…"
They lock eyes.
"Something tells me you might know how that feels…"
Before Lack-Two could stop himself, he finds himself agreeing. Somehow, that was enough for the woman to take it as an encouragement for her to continue.
"I used to work in that building. It was my last day of work, and my husband and daughter came over to help me pack away my stuff. We were supposed to migrate out of the country. Husband found a great job overseas… I could finally focus on my craft and our daughter–It was like an end to a fairy tale but in real life."
Her breath hitched.
"Then the alarms started blaring…"
Lack-Two felt his heart beat louder again, Somehow, he knew this story before.
"Back then all I could think of was: thank God, my husband left our daughter in the car with her aunt… Should something happen to us, we know she's out there safe with family. It was the only thought that kept us sane everytime we heard those explosions from the next rooms. Then these men in uniform started flooding in…"
A soft but distinct sound of chatter from a distance interrupted the two. Simultaneously, they look up, and see a group of young, uniformed officers, pass by them. Lack-Two had to immediately lower his head in order to not be seen and recognized, but the woman kept her gaze locked on them.
"They were wearing something similar to those, with the same emblem," she recalls, following the young officers with her eyes.
"I remember feeling so relieved. Suddenly their arrival renewed some hope in me. There was a hiccup, but we could still live out our happy ending. All thanks to those men in uniform…"
She then looks up straight to Lack-Two's eyes, much to the latter's surprise and chagrin.
That look of earnestness riddled with sadness was all too familiar to him.
"But then the same uniforms informed us later on what happened to our daughter…"
Lack-Two felt the lump on his throat rise even higher. It made him want to throw up.
"I-I'm sorry…"
"You already said that."
The boy had to drop his eyes on the floor again.
"I-I didn't know if there was anything else I could say… S-Sorry…"
The woman kept his eyes on him for what seemed like an eternity or a lifetime–both felt too long for Lack-Two's taste. He wanted to walk away. Or fall down. Or explode.
His hand itched for the box in his pocket, and he had to give his all to stop himself from bringing them out.
The woman must've felt his discomfort because she slowly lifted her eyes away from him and then back to the wall of names. Lack-Two chose to do the same.
They stood there in silence. Then the woman breaks it again.
"What did you say your name was again?"
"It's L–I mean, Nate." Lack-Two heaves a heavy sigh. "Nate Alart."
"That's a pretty name," the woman reacts, her demeanor shifting too suddenly. She then rubs her belly again.
"Do you mind if I steal that?"
The difference in her tone made Lack-Two look at her again. Just in time to see her soft smile.
It was a smile of familiarity.
Lack-Two wondered if she knew.
"Beth," she smiled. "...Hemmingway, though I guess you already knew that."
He gave her a confused look. Beth just smiled.
"It's nice to meet you, Officer Alart."
Lack-Two reacts to the statement, but before he could say anything, Beth gestures at his sleeve, making him follow. True enough, his faded blue jacket, though outdated, did have the UPD emblem sewn to its sleeve. Lack-Two dreadfully rubs his hand over it, as if to hide it. Or to hopefully erase it.
"It's… ex-officer, actually," he mumbles, almost apologetically.
"I just quit."
Beth looks at her sadly, but with a hint of understanding.
"A shame," she mutters back. "People say the remaining officers in UPD Nimbasa are the best. I figured they could use all the best hands they could use."
Lack-Two smiles impishly.
"You're too kind, Ms."
"So, what's next for you now, ex-officer Alart?"
Lack-Two was taken aback by the question–not for anything else but the fact that he didn't expect to hear the dreaded question from a stranger. His world had just crumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time since all this began that he never actually thought he'd survive long enough to ask himself that question.
Good question.
Beth continues to look at him expectantly, as he continues to focus his gaze forward. Then she smiles as she joins his gaze again.
"Sorry," she sighs. "My husband always tells me I have a knack for asking difficult questions."
Then she looks at him again.
"It's okay if you don't know the answer to that, by the way. I myself never had a proper answer to it for almost 3 years. I don't think anyone does."
She smiles bitterly, her hand once again falling gently to her belly.
"But, sometimes it's good to ask. You'd be surprised at what you find yourself answering."
Lack-Two finds himself looking back at the woman, his gaze slightly dropping at where her arm rested.
"It…" he begins, clearing his throat. "It might be a bit too late but…"
Beth looks at him.
"Congratulations on this blessing," Lack-Two smiles ruefully. "I could only imagine how difficult it might have been to want to continue with life, despite everything that's happened."
"Oh believe me, it's far worse than what you're imagining," Beth scoffs. "It's been an excruciating past couple of years, and it took a lot of time and convincing before my husband and I finally decided to try again. God only knows how discouraging it is to move forward when time stood still the way it did. And with things unfolding the way they are, it didn't feel like it was worth it."
The boy grinds his teeth in agreement, and nods sadly.
"But that's the thing about hope, I guess. You can fall into the lowest you can possibly be in, but Hope will come and drag you out by the hair, kicking and screaming."
Lack-Two finds himself chuckling.
"Yeah, Hope can sometimes be a bitch like that."
They both chuckle softly, but only for a bit. Soon, they faded off into silence, to which they both welcomed. The two wallowed in it for a few minutes, and was only jolted out by the sound of a car horn blaring.
Lack-Two looks behind and sees a car by the park's entrance, its headlights blinking, connoting it wasn't planning on staying there.
"Welp, there's my ride," Beth announces, proceeding to bend down to pick up her bag. Lack-Two swiftly reaches over and picks it up for her. The pregnant lady smiles in gratitude.
"You're a sweet guy," she claims. "Maybe a few months after this baby comes out, you can look me up and I can finally claim that cigarette you offered me."
Lack-Two snorts.
"That is, only if you don't decide to quit until then." The woman adjusts her bag strap.
"Do me a favor, and don't decide to save yourself from lung cancer until we meet again, okay?"
Lack-Two smiles. "I'll see what I can do."
Beth's expression changes a bit–her mischievous smile seamlessly transitioning into something softer. More tender.
"Just so you know," she begins, reaching towards Lack-Two with her hand. Lack-Two's initial reflex made him want to move back away from her reach, but he fights it, and only allows himself a small wince once her hand lands on his sleeve.
"I really appreciate what you do–well, did." She traces the UPD emblem gently with her fingers. "I acknowledge that this doesn't apply to everyone, but, I think it applies to you."
Beth gives him a smile of gratitude.
"Thank you... For doing everything that you could."
Lack-Two feels the lump in his throat return. The whole time they were together, this was the first time he's finally let himself acknowledge the reality of the situation. Of who Beth was.
He wondered if all this time she knew who he really was.
"It truly is a shame to see more and more people leave the UPD," Beth continues on. "I've owed both my life and my husband's to you people. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be standing here, being given this bittersweet opportunity to try again."
Lack-Two watches her with pained eyes as she slowly mumbles her next words, sort of like a prayer.
"I hope… I just hope it's not a mistake to try again."
She then looks at the wall of names again as she pulls her hand away.
"Mommy has to go, Leslie," she mutters. "I'm sorry it took this long for me to come here, and I'm sorry if I'm alone, too. Daddy still needs time. But know we both love you so much and we miss you everyday."
Beth gives Lack-Two one last look of acknowledgement before she turns around, and starts walking towards the direction of the car. Lack-Two watches as a man emerges from the driver's seat and jogs his way to Beth. The two share a hug, then she breaks away, says something to the man, and then gestures at Lack-Two.
Beth's husband and Lack-Two share a long look before the earlier smiles and give a friendly nod to this direction.
The former inspector finds himself nodding back as he watches them enter the car and drive away.
And just like that, Lack-Two stands as he did when he got there–alone.
He slowly turns and returns his gaze to the wall of names, performing his habit of locating that one name he held onto for so long. That one name that acted as the monument to the grimmest yet most important lesson he's carried throughout his entire career.
And he stands there in silence as he feels himself learning another.
He never did save Leslie. But by God will he let it happen again.
Lack-Two actually snorts to himself.
Hope really is a bitch.
With a deep breath–the deepest breath he's ever let out in his whole life–he carefully peels off his jacket, folds it carefully as if he was putting away something so delicate, and he puts it down on the ground in front of the wall. The jacket joined the row of flowers and baskets that stretched across the wall's perimeter–various offerings to commemorate those they have lost.
Lack-Two was never the kind to participate in such traditions–he knew the dead have no use for flowers or gifts–but today he makes an exception.
Today he offers hope.
Under the influence of what seemed like a trance, Lack-Two robotically returns to his car and starts driving. He drove and drove until he reached the freeway, until he was out of Nimbasa. Until he could no longer see buildings and establishments. Until the structures were few and far between.
He drove until he reached rows and rows of storage buildings. Without hesitation, he turned to one of the building's driveway, located a slot among the almost empty parking lot, and stopped there. He turned off the engine, disembarked, and after making sure there was no one to see him, he started walking out.
Lack-Two exited the parking lot and traversed across the rows of buildings, passing by more parking lots that were even emptier. He didn't stop walking until he reached another row of buildings, about ten blocks away from where he left his car. Silently, he walked past the guard house unnoticed, entered one of the hallways, and made a beeline towards one of the storage slots.
After giving one last look around the deserted area, he fishes out a key ring filled with five keys, and starts unlocking all five padlocks that secured the slot's gate. It took him some time to get through each lock, as most of them were almost un-openable due to rust. But soon, he was able to get through the last one, and as soon as he released it, the gate started sliding up, revealing a wide, spacious room filled with shelves and boxes, all filled to the brim with different documents, adorned by dust and cobwebs.
It looked as if it had been months since anyone had gone there.
He approaches one of the desks where a computer was waiting for him.
Lack-Two went through several screens before he reached the login page. He typed in a password, and soon the monitor showed the following text:
Welcome, Aldin Richards.
Lack-Two then takes his watch, plugs it to a cable connected to the computer, and after clicking on a few things, the computer starts flashing data.
Commencing Data Transfer…
While waiting for the transfer, Lack-Two walks towards the center of the room, where a giant board stands filled with images, pages, and even maps. The former inspector fished out a piece of paper from his pocket–it was stained from him using it to wipe coffee from his hands earlier today. He looks at it briefly, scanning through the details written by UNPol. The page contained names of people UNPol have detained, and how they were connected to one another. He then approaches the board, and pins the document there.
Lack-Two slowly backs away to give himself an overall view of the board.
He remembered when Aldin showed him all of this, when he first started heading the SUU, and it has definitely grown more robust since then. But still he felt there were gaps and missing pieces.
Almost three years' worth of information from all of SUU's intensive information gathering in an attempt to uncover all the hidden strings that connected the events of Unova's turbulent history, and somehow, looking at all of it from where he stood, Lack-Two was still dissatisfied.
But then his eyes wander shortly and drops on one of the images in his collage of conspiracies–to a photo he took a few months back during one of his recon missions–and he realized he might not have the liberty of time to complete it all.
Suddenly, more important things were at stake.
He steps closer to pick the photo up and holds it closer to his face, and Whi-Two's perpetually dumbfounded eyes stare at him back.
Lack-Two remembers that day so clearly. He remembers how much risk it took for him to make sure to keep her safe, and yet somehow, here she was at the center of the danger he worked so hard to keep her from. And now he learns it's all because of him.
He led her there and he couldn't stop her.
Just like with Leslie.
But unlike with Leslie, he refuses to just wallow in self-pity. This time, he doesn't have to just stand there and just watch as another life bursts away.
This time, he still has a chance to make things right.
Lack-Two returns the photo back to the board, and starts typing on his phone.
He knows he can't do this alone.
-Mission_13 Status: Offline-
A/N: …Tada?