#but yeah even without the rest of the uniform I'm gonna find ways to include those thigh-highs with other glams

[anarkhebringer]

Felis continues to feed bunny and lizard boy players with each release

[neomikey]

Unnamed: Chapter 2

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom?”

“Jordan!  Good to hear from you, baby.  How's Sharon been?”

“She's fine.  Listen, I don't have long.  Could you come here to the station today?”

“The station?  Jordan, what's this about?”

“There was a break-in at Aunt Gladys's place last night and some kids got hurt.”

“Oh, that's...y-yeah, sure.  I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“We got the guy who did it.”

“There's a 'guy?'”

“How soon can you be here?”

“I'll go clear my schedule for the day.  Be there in about a half-hour.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“See you soon.  Love you.”

“Love you too.”

~

The St. Elestria Police Department prided itself in its diversity.  While most of the staff were human, HR actively sought out animal people and elves to fill its ranks, sometimes going to the extent of recruiting them from across the country.  Ideally, their human staff could protect and serve the public just as good as anyone, but for the sake of getting differing viewpoints and having more representation while dealing with the sector's diverse populace, it helped to have more.

It certainly didn't hurt that it looked good for PR.

The station was rather easygoing for the afternoon.  It was the middle of the day shift, meaning many officers were out on patrol, while at the station, a number sat behind their desks, glumly filling out paperwork.  The Sector 12 station was located more towards the outskirts of St. Elestria proper, where there was generally little crime.  Instead of spending money on jail upkeep and high-end equipment, the precinct was able to afford allocating money from the budget to sprucing up the station without affecting their ability to fight crime.  They had a reputation among some of the other sector stations for being the “prissy” station, allegedly reserved for jaywalkers, candy bar thieves, and irate soccer moms.

An elf with short-cut silver hair was stationed at the front desk behind bullet-proof glass and was browsing through the SEPD database, trying to clarify an irritating report someone had turned in.  All that he could understand of the handwriting was that the offender's license plate started with J.

He was taking a pull from his Burger 'N Fries drink when a dark-skinned, gray-haired lady with a cardigan and black purse came into the lobby.  The elf perked up as the door sounded and momentarily scrambled to put away the fast food cup before he realized who it was.  He smiled brightly at the older lady.

“'Afternoon, Janice!”

“Maúrin,” she greeted back in her usual business-like tone.  “Did Jordan tell you I was coming by?”

“Yep, sure did. Let me page him real quick.”

“Sure, sure.”

Maurice picked up the comm nearby.  “Officer Henckley, there is a Code 7 at the front—“

“I didn't bring lunch,” Janice interrupted.

“—Code Mom at the front desk.”

“10-4,” came the staticky reply.

“He'll be just a moment,” Maurin confidently assured Janice.

“Of course.”

She took up a nearby clipboard and with her incredibly fancy pen, wrote her information on it, detailing her name, purpose of visit, officer she was seeing, and other pertinent information.  While waiting, she grabbed a coffee from their surprisingly expensive coffee machine. She never understood the fuss around coffee.  For her many years alive, she never could find anyone who truly “liked” the taste of coffee.  Whether it was cheap stuff bought from around the corner or the luxurious beans imported overseas from Stilneg, it all tasted bitter and had to be drowned in additives to be made palatable. Coffee was mostly about its effect.

Several sugars and flavored creams later, the door buzzed and opened, revealing her son. He had skin as dark as his mother's and was in full uniform, all the way up to the cap.  Jordan smiled brightly in greeting.  Janice did not reciprocate.

“So what happened?” she asked, as if already in the middle of a conversation.

“Nobody's dead,” he assured her.

“Good.  So what happened?”

“A vagrant happened.  We have him in holding right now.  Come on.”

Through the door they went.  It was a slow day in the Sector 12 station.  Some officers were at their desks, taking care of the minutiae of paperwork.  A few officers were checking social media.  It admittedly was a handy tool for investigations, but it also let officers look at the latest funny cat pictures.

“So these teenagers got into Aunt Gladys's house,” Jordan explained as they walked, “where this guy jumped 'em.  Stole this one kid's wallet, broke the other one's nose...it's all pretty messy.  He had several weapons, including a pistol, some knives, a sword....”

“What were they doing in Gladys's place?” Janice asked, her voice taking on an edge, seemingly disregarding all the weapons.

“Said they were just curious, Mom.  They were out on a midnight walk and saw the door open.”

“Are they stupid?”

“Teenagers – you tell me.”

Janice sighed and wiped at her face.  “Sweetie, I love you and know that you and everyone here have made great strides in keeping the district safe, but what kind of moron goes into some abandoned building in the middle of the—”

“Well, they did, and this is what we've got.  Processing the perp has been a bit difficult, since he has no ID and refuses to tell us his name, family, friends, or any kind of background.  No drugs or anything found in his system either, though he is suffering from mild malnutrition and exhaustion.  He just admits to the attack and says it was justified, but the evidence obviously isn't good for him.  Looks like he's likely gonna get thrown over to 19 and—“

“Don't you dare,” Janice suddenly interrupted.  “That—“

“Mom...!” Jordan hissed.  A couple nearby officers looked up for a moment, then went back to their deskwork.  He spoke just above a whisper.  “This is not the place to bring this up!”

Despite being almost a foot shorter than him, Janice's stern glare made Jordan feel like she towered over him.  Mothers never lost their edge.

“I would have already begun processing, but I knew you would want to talk to him. He's in the interrogation room right now with Rudy.  I'm told it's been rather quiet.”

“Not even talking about the Elks?”

Jordan scoffed. “He tried.”

With a swipe of his keycard, they entered the more secured area of the station.  Off to the side were concrete holding cells with thick glass walls, all of which were empty.  Only one had paperwork in the door slot.

“Hey, Janice!” the cop on duty cheerfully greeted.

“Not a Code 7,” Jordan informed her.  The lady's shoulders noticeably sagged, disheartened at the lack of food.

“Still in interrogation?” Janice asked.

“Yeah, go on ahead.

They rounded a corner, passed a few doors, and finally came to a door marked “Interview.”  There was a one-way mirror on the door, and within, they saw the vagrant.  His wrists were handcuffed to the chair, which was firmly bolted to the floor.  His clothes were tattered and dirty, and his right pantleg hung loosely from the stump.  Despite how ratty it was, the officers didn't take away the headband he wore which rested over his left eye.  A table sat in front of him (also bolted to the floor), and on the other side was a far more comfortable-looking chair.  His good eye was firmly locked on Rudy – a gray-haired rabbit man – who was leaning on the wall next to the door, bored since his attempt at sports-centered small talk had failed.  The homeless man, meanwhile, kept his eye on Rudy with palpable mistrust and caution.

“That's the savage who took out two teenagers?”

“Apparently,” Jordan confirmed.  “Wasn't exactly 'savage' when we picked him up either; more just seemed confused.  Didn't even recognize a taser when it was pointed right at him.”

“You didn't....”

Jordan sighed. “No, I didn't, Mom.  Just...listen, we can talk about all this later, okay?”

Before she could argue, he knocked on the door.  Rudy's ears went fully erect, his nose involuntarily twitched, and he stepped away from the door. Jordan opened it and Janice pushed past them.

“Thank you, gentlemen, I'll take it from here,” she informed them.

Rudy and Jordan locked eyes for a moment, before Jordan finally nodded.  “Yeah, sure,” he conceded,  “We'll be nearby.”  He nodded to the large mirror on the wall.  “You have ten minutes – no more.”

Janice folded her hands on her lap as she watched them leave, then allowed the door to shut on its own before finally turning to address the bedgraggled man.  “Well...” she began, “it seems like you've had an interesting day.”

The one-eyed man didn't seem to hear her, and instead was looking to the door.  Janice hung her purse on the back of the chair and went to sit down.

“My name is Janice Henckley, and I'm—“

“What was that beast?”

“'Beast'?” she said, an eyebrow slowly raising.  “You mean Rudy?” She waited for a response, but received none.  “He's a police officer, obviously.  A detective.”

“It wasn't human.”

“Of course not, he's a lapin.”

The man finally looked to her.

“A lapin,” she emphasized.  “A hybrid.”

His expression showed no comprehension.

“You...do know hybrids, don't you?”

His eye showed no understanding.  Janice resituated herself in her seat, suddenly finding the vagrant far more interesting.

“They're humans whose genetic make-up was mixed with those of animals as part of a military experiment over a hundred years ago who have since joined the average population,” she informed him.  “There are many different breeds out there.  Rudy there was a lapin, a rabbit hybrid. Canids are dogs, felids are cats, equids are horses, there are several others....  You've...never seen a hybrid?  Ever?”

“That's considered strange?”

“From where did you come?”

The man's eye went to the table.  A silence descended upon the room while Janice awaited an answer.

“You do know I was only given ten minutes to talk to you.  We can sit here in awkward silence the whole time or you can start talking to me.”

“Who are you?”

“Janice,” she repeated.  “I'm the owner of the house where you assaulted those two teens.”

“It was an act of self defense,” he explained.  “They threatened me.  Why do you own an abandoned house?”

“The teens threatened you how?”

“They tried to rob me.  Faced with death, I ensured that I would live.  I chose not to kill them, as that would have resulted in complications.”

“That's called 'second-degree murder,'” Janice explained, hiding mild amusement. “Did you pull the pistol on them?”

“'Pistol?'”

“Yeah.”

His expression was again showing little to no comprehension.  Janice furrowed her brow, then leaned on the table between them.  “What happened?”

“I was awoken, I was threatened, one brandished a knife, the other...something strange...and I defended myself.  I sent them away and that was the end of it.”

“'Strange?'” Janice seemed perplexed.  “What did it look like?”

“Metallic, had a cylinder, a grip—“

Janice interrupted with a heavy sigh, as she was developing more of a picture.  While she couldn't fully ascertain whether or not the man was telling the truth, she was finding his story more believable than the one Jordan had told her.

“So they had the pistol.”

“If that is its name, yes.”

“Why don't you know these things?” she asked with irritation, tapping the table.  “Hybrids, lapins, guns.  Seriously, just...where are you from?”

“I don't know anymore,” he finally admitted.  “I don't know where I am.”

“You're in St. Elestria.  Do you know where that is?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

“I stowed away upon a ship.”

“And from where did that ship sail?”

“I don't know.”

“Why don't you know?”

“I didn't seek the answer.  I didn't want to know where I was going or from where I was leaving.”

“You had to come from somewhere,” Janice insisted.  “What country were you in before?”

“I...I don't know.”  There was uncertainty, tiredness, and frustration in his voice.  “There is so much I question now.  I have lost my use.  My life feels as if it were for naught.  I don't know what to do.”

Janice blew out a long breath through her nose as she studied the odd, shabby, one-eyed man before her.  A long and awkward silence descended upon them.

“I can't exactly help you with your existential crisis....  You probably won't give me your name if I ask you for it.”

“I don't have one.”

“Of course.” She paused for a moment before reaching into her purse.  Withdrawing a business card, she slid it across the table to him.  “Well...at least I can give a more formal introduction.  I'm the owner of Dead Trees and Ink, a book publisher here in St. Elestria, and you were in my sister's old house...which belongs to me now.  You were by all rights trespassing on private property—“

“It was boarded up and unused.”

“—I'm talking.”  The stern look she gave lasted only a moment.  “That was private property, but I do not intend to press charges against you...not that it would do any good.  You don't have any background, and I'm sure that you don't have any money, save what you took from the one kid.”

“I took no such thing,” he insisted.  “I only took his identification.”

She raised a brow. “I was told you ended up taking their wallet.  Why...why would you only take—?”

“Names have power, woman.  They encompass all that you are.  They give you identity.  They give you associations and attachments to people, places, things, and ideas.  They make you trackable and traceable. In the magical world, they bear an even greater liability.  It is for this reason that I choose not to have a name, and it is also for that reason that I took the boy's identification, so I would have said power over him.”

Janice was looking dumbfoundedly at him.  “Did you just call me 'woman'?”

“You are one, correct?”  He seemed entirely oblivious to his faux pas.

Janice sighed, then gave a dismissive wave.  “Nevermind.  Listen, I don't know what's going to happen with you.  Knowing the department here, you're probably going to be put back on the street.  Have you been homeless long?”

He took a moment to think it over.  “Yes.”

“I'll be frank, you certainly look it.  I know you probably know how to survive out there, but just keep in mind that there are social programs that will try and help you out...however they can.”  She gave a heavy sigh.  “You probably don't know about the Urban Refreshment Act, right?”

“Correct.”

“Let's just say...it isn't good for you to be homeless and out in the main city...so as long as you look like, well....”  She gestured at him. “...don't come back to that part of the city...or downtown for that matter.  Do you know anyone here in the city?”

“I have no associates.”

“Well, you'll need to make some.  I'll talk with Officer Henckley about what they're going to do with you, and we'll proceed from there.  Do you have any questions for me right now?”

The man looked away.  “Not for you, no.”

“Well all right then.”  She pushed the chair back, retrieved her purse, then nodded towards the mirror.  The vagrant looked puzzled by the action, unsure why people kept looking to the large mirror on the wall.  “For being homeless, you're rather well spoken.”

“I read.”

“Well...we share some common ground.”

As she approached the door, Rudy was there to open it.  Janice nodded her appreciation, then walked past to the connected observation room.  It was a dimly lit room, mostly illuminated by the few monitors that sat on a table next to recording equipment.  Jordan was sitting in a chair, forearm resting on the table.

“Now Mom....”

She had the decorum to close the door before starting.

“Tell me about the boys,” she said flatly.

Jordan had been dreading this.  “Mom....”

“Tell me about the boys.”

The officer looked up and sighed.  “All right...they have some minor records. Trouble in school, one has a broken family, and they match the description of a pair of troublemakers we've had reports about over there by Aunt Gladys's place.”

“So they caused the trouble and—“

“We have no evidence, Mom,” Jordan insisted.  He gestured to the window, where the homeless man sat glumly.  “What you're talking about is all circumstantial.  What we have is an unregistered man, a couple of assaulted teens, and weapons and a wallet all found there at the scene.  We were told he broke a cell phone by stabbing it, and guess what we found there.”

“Can't you bring in someone from Arcane Investigations to look into this?  Talk to those boys with a Truth spell enacted or...or something?”

“Bring in a mage for a homeless nobody?  Do you know how much paperwork it is to get them involved for legitimate crimes?  He admitted to attacking them, Mom!  The one teen's mother was in the mayor's office today, insisting we execute him.  This guy's nothing but trouble for us, so we're going to ship him to 19 and they can deal with him.”

“You'll do that to an innocent man?  I know that you know something isn't entirely right over there at—”

“He's not innocent, Mom!” Jordan sighed.  “He's admitted to assault!”

She crossed her arms and looked down at him.

“I shouldn't have invited you...” he grumbled to himself.

“So why did you?”

“Because we're honest with each other, Mom, and I'm not going to hide something happening at Aunt Gladys's place from you.”

Janice sat in the seat across from him, resting her elbows on her knees, and leaned in. Like a switch had been flipped, her countenance softened and her tone became compassionate.  “And that does mean a lot to me, baby.”

Jordan gave a relieved breath through his nose, then gestured to his mother.  “Do you see what situation I'm in here?  I don't like it either! I'm caught between my mom and my job.  Listen...I know those boys are probably guilty as sin, and if it were up to me, I'd hook this guy up with the best social worker we had and have those teens there in the room instead, but that's not how things are. I've gotta do what I've gotta do.  We have procedure here at the precinct.  It's part of my duty with serving and protecting the city.  I don't always like it, but it's all in place for a reason.”

Janice turned her mouth and looked down.  “I know....”  She looked into the room, where the man was looking about with mild curiosity.  He kept looking to the fluorescent tubes on the ceiling.  “What are they going to do over there in 19?”

Jordan sighed and shrugged.  “I don't know.  Take care of him?  He'll be fed and cared for.  Just look at him, he needs it.  It's better than living on the streets, right?”

Janice looked sympathetically to him.  “He did have shelter at Gladys's....”

“You can't save everyone.”

“I know, baby....”  She gave a heavy sigh, then pushed off the table to stand up.  “You don't need me for anything else, right?”

“No.”

“I'm going home then.  I could use the rest of the day off....”

“How's By'ir doing?”

She snorted in derision.  “As stubborn as ever.  Thinks that because he's our biggest seller he can dilly-dally and turn in his chapters whenever he wants.  Still throws a fit like a diva when we give criticism.”

“Writers....”

Janice tugged her purse strap against her shoulder.  “I should only let myself be upset at one thing at a time.”  There was a pause as she breathed in.  “Thank you for telling me about this man and being honest with me, Jordan.  We'll...talk later.”

Neither of them looked forward to that conversation.  Janice left the room and started for the lobby.  Jordan, meanwhile, leaned on the table, laced his fingers together, and looked intently at the homeless man.

~

The ride out to Sector 19, the Wharf District, was rather uneventful. The crippled homeless man sat next to the window in the back of the squad car, watching the evening's city life pass by.  The buildings slowly degraded in quality, mimicking the setting sun, until the lights became sparse and the road condition had deteriorated.

The car ride had been entirely silent.  Aside from some uninteresting squawks over the squad car radio, not a single word had been said.

Jordan turned the car down a dark alley and drove in, before coasting to a stop.  He turned off the car and extinguished all lights, leaving the two of them in complete darkness.  He took in a deep breath, while in the back seat, the vagrant looked about with growing trepidation. This was all wrong.

“Listen...” Jordan finally said.  He went to continue speaking, but couldn't find the words.  He let out a heavy breath, then leaned forward on the steering wheel.  “I'm not a bad guy, okay?  I want to do right. I'm an officer of the law.  But more importantly than the law and those who tell me what to do, I also know right and wrong.”

He looked into the back seat where the homeless man was staring at him with stern tenseness.  Jordan took off his cap, then leaned his arm against the glass separating them.

“Buddy...things aren't black and white in this world.  I know you probably did what you had to.  I'm not going to fault you for that.  And neither is 19. It's sloppily run over there and paperwork goes missing all the time.  I might have to do some reports later, but if you somehow went missing, the world wouldn't end.”

He hit the unlock button on the car door and all four doors clicked open.

“I need you to get lost, okay?”

The man remained perfectly still and continued to stare at Jordan in the dark.

“You're getting let go.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a conscience.  I'll be honest, Station 19 isn't a good place for people like you to be.  Because of the Urban Refreshment Act, however, this sector is basically the only place where you can be.  So...don't get picked up by the police, all right?  Behave yourself out there.  No more attacking people.  Find people to help you.  You don't have to be alone out here, okay?”

The vagrant slightly tilted his head to the side.  “What do you require in exchange?”

Jordan scoffed.  “Don't tell anyone I did this.  Help out somebody else who requires a bit of mercy too, all right?  'Pay it forward' and all that.”

“For my freedom, this sounds like an unequal exchange.”

“You're going to argue against this?”

The man fell silent for a long moment and Jordan let him mull upon this.

“I shall pay you back appropriately for this,” the vagrant finally said.  “I don't know when or how, but my debt to you shall be paid.”

“If you say so.  You're good?”

“In what respect?”

“In...the leaving kind?”

The vagrant thought for a moment before replying, “Yes...I am good in the leaving respect.”

“Good.”

Jordan unbuckled himself, then got out and opened the back door – the doors could only be opened from outside.  The vagrant had some issues undoing his seatbelt, but finally extricated himself.  Jordan offered out a hand, but it was entirely ignored.  The homeless man pushed off the frame of the door, then awkwardly got to standing on his single foot.

“Sorry I didn't bring any crutches.”

“My freedom is more than adequate.”

“If I can help it, let's not see each other again,” Jordan finally said.

“I will repay my debt to you.”

“Don't sweat it.  Just...go, all right?  And keep your head down.”

The man hopped away from the car and leaned against the alleyway's wall, while Jordan returned to the driver's seat.

“Take care,” he called from inside the car.  The vagrant was illuminated red by the car's rear lights, and moments later, was left there alone in the dark.

(Prologue) (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)