The bar here seems to attract a younger crowd, or really, it seems to elicit a vibe of sophistication. It’s a historical building like most of the buildings in Midtown are. It currently isn’t open, but this is the one that Morrison went to that night. A posted signs say that they open around six in the evening. Looking around, there has to be a way-

-snaking around the back of the building, there is a semi-truck wedged into a narrow alleyway. Let me get my bearings; across the street there is the outside market, with the boutique shops, a rather crowded cafe, the bar sits on the corner of a street, across to the left is an apartment complex. There are several small businesses nestled throughout.

Someone should have seen something?

Two men are currently awkwardly slithering on the side of the semi-truck, attempting to hall alcohol and food into the bar’s kitchen. They are all taking orders for a man in his mid-thirties, black dress shirt with palm leaves. His hair reddish brown, curly, and held together in a loose ponytail.

He notices the two of us pretty quickly and has to wedge himself between the freight truck and the wall to point to the two of us, “We aren’t open yet. If you’re looking for a job, bring back your resume when we are.”

“I don’t mean to be a bother,” I tell him, while Wolf edges a bit more forward and close to my side, “I am actually here investigating a recent death.”

“Are you from the Oakside Department?” he ask defensively, “I already told them what I know. Guy bought a drink, then he steps outside and gets crushed.”

They would have investigated whether it was an accident or a targeted hit.

“I promise I am only going to ask a few more questions,” I reassure him.

“Am I going to be constantly bothered for a car accident?” he ask me, “Or is something going on I need to know about?”

“You’re not in any trouble,” I pause, “Perhaps we should start on better terms. I’m Magi. And you are?”

He scoffs at first.

“Magi, what kind of prick prances around with a name like that,” he pauses, “Jeremy Ford. So if I am not in any trouble and they already investigated the place. Why are you here?”

“Do you have security footage of that night inside the bar-

-why are you asking for that? The Enforcers didn’t even ask for that. They said the case was routine,” Jeremy crosses his arms.

They aren’t incorrect. Currently, what we have is a bunch of loosely connected accidents that may or may not be tied together.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“I am not with the Enforcers-

-then who the hell are you?” Jeremy barks.

Right. This isn’t my favorite thing to do. I didn’t really want Lysander or the Oakside Police Department to know that I am here until I had investigated the areas alone. Then we could collaborate on the information we have received. Sighing. He should know what this means, taking out my Heraldry, “I am with the Order of the Exalted.”

“Why the fuck is the Order here?”

“I don’t want to cause a panic,” I remain calm, while he seems more agitated, “However, this may not have been as routine as previously thought. Anything you can provide on Morrison that night is helpful.”

Jeremy seems taken aback, “They think this was a hit!”

“Potentially,”

“I know nothing about any hits,”

“That’s fine, it’s why I need the security footage of that night, inside the bar,”

Jeremy takes a second, he hesitantly gestures around the truck, “Follow me. Getting around the truck is going to be a bitch n half.”

“Just like a man to try and force himself into a space he doesn’t fit,” Wolf remarks quietly. Though I think Jeremy hears her, because he looks behind him.

We squeeze past a narrow gap between the brick wall and the semi-truck. To be led up some cement steps. Entering the kitchen, the two men unloading the truck are piling boxes on top of each other, while a few other individuals are currently prepping for their evening service.

Jeremy steps outside the kitchen. We follow in pursuit. This definitely is the type of place to attract crowds. The bar counter is solid oak, polished so well it reflects the pendant shaped chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. Black pleather individual booths sit across on the other side of the counter. Rich red wallpaper, with scattered stars. Even empty, you can hear the crowds and laughter of the evening.

We leave that behind a red velvet curtain, the type you might see on a play stage, where a door and hallway are tucked away, “Security cameras are in the office.” Jeremy mentions while opening the door.

The office seems to betray all the outside sophistication the public sees. It’s small, the walls remain white, with a metal table being used as a desk. And a crooked outdated monitor sits in the center. He points to the monitor. “That’s the computer we use for the security footage. We have two cameras in the entertainment room.” he gestures to a metal chair, “I’ll open the folder. What do you need?”

“Last Month, April 16th, 2020,” I tell him.

“All right, so how am I handing this over?” Jeremy ask.

“I can transfer it to my tablet,” I state, taking it out from the inside pocket of my coat. Why did I put it in the wrong pocket? I notice Jeremy’s gaze.

“Serious scar you have there,” Jeremy remarks pointing to my hand, “Probably has a cool story. Especially from you Order type.” he unbuttons the cuff of his shirt, showing off a scar on his forearm, “Got that in Aoi Islands. Learning how to make sushi.” He looks over at Wolf, “You from around there?”

“This is getting incredibly awkward being trapped in a small room with two men,” Wolf states.

Jeremy laughs nervously, “Right. Guess I am not supposed to know.”

“We should remain focused on the topic at hand,” I state.

Wolf snorts. We both turn our attention to her, “Sorry. It was funny. Hand. Topic at hand.”

Jeremy looks at her, “Aren’t you with the Order?”

“Me? I am with the Order. If you’re asking if I am Agent of the Order, I am not. Don’t mind me, pretend I am not here,” Wolf responds.

Jeremy gives me an uneasy look.

“She’s my joke dispenser. When tensions seem too high, she spits out a few laughs,” I remark. This is getting incredibly awkward and quickly derailing.

“Right, security footage,”

“Yes,” I place my tablet and a USB chord onto the metal table, “Security footage.”