A well decorated room, the creation of a home founded on arcanely printed posters and possibly stolen advertisements. Patterned wallpaper along the wall behind wooden frames, a camouflage of the world bridging together a childhood of the middle class of South.

One corner lies a bookshelf overtaken by old childhood toys, the small writing desk next door still filled with incomplete homework and a journaling book.

A bedframe holding a mattress and neatly folded cotton comforter takes up the remaining room, the whole place split in half by a circular window that seeps in the grayness of a mid-afternoon showering rain.

Two police officers in the intrusion of a sacred space, a dead youth somehow a reminder of terrible reality.

The halfling turns to the father, an emotionless gaze upon the human understood and allotted. “We’ll be respectful sir. And I believe Sergeant Jarka will need to ask you some questions downstairs.”

A mind still reeling from shock, the father simply nods as he steps away. “R-right…”

Two officers left, the room suddenly more cramped than ever before as Jason Ford just takes it all in.

Just like yours back home.

“Arcanophetamine is some pretty deadly stuff.” Underfoot breaks the silence with pharmaceutical facts, removing the armored spellbook from his utility belt. “Like, you ever heard of amphetamines?”

Watching as the police mage unlocks the latch upon his primary armament, Jason Ford quickly shakes his head. “N-no sir, I-I’m not very f-familiar with it.”

“Well it’s a pretty recent development in pharmaceuticals.” Underfoot informs as he flips through arcanely cured paper scrawled with runes and notes. “Actually the chemists and conjurors at Bluewood Bio, they were the company that made it, sold it initially as a stimulant to the military. Mostly so that the Walker Crews could keep piloting their war machines for literal days before sleeping. Sadly the stuff’s highly addictive and would burn their brains out if they used it too much, so the Army just ended up banning it.”

A spell found, the subscript written in the officer’s own handwriting detailing out the ritual requirements of its divination origins. “As the arcane derivative, arcanophetamine is way crazier though. That stuff literally burns your soul out. Which is perfect in a medical sense, since if someone gets revived the wrong way they gotta jump start the whole neuro-soul bridge somehow. Recreationally though, someone could overdose on a quarter gram if they’re not careful.”

Jason Ford just stares at the halfling. “W-what?”

“Yeah, that’s why every precinct’s trying to get that stuff off the streets of South.” Officer Underfoot informs casually. “By sprinkling some charged arcanite dust in there it makes the high absolutely insane and lethal; at least according to Ryce.”

A switching of gears, the mage cracking his neck in the beginnings of a spellcasting. “Alright kid, you want to help me out with the eighth sequence?”

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“Detect magic?” Ford specifies, a mind dragged along the fast-paced conversation.

“Yeah, are you an Aiagan or Areunan style caster?”

“I-I don’t know how to c-cast that.” The half-orc admits. “Detect Magic, sir.”

Underfoot scoffs at the insecurity of the young hybrid-mage. “Well you know how to do the first level of a sequencer rune right?”

“Y-Yes sir.”

“In that case just do the standard one level sequencer around me and I’ll fill it in.” A stretch of his fingers, the halfling rolls his shoulders in the luxury of ritual preparation. “Alright let’s do this thing.”

Two souls operating in unison, half a mind placed to the actual drawn casting of the simple spell.

A glowing, light algal color of scientific casting enveloping the room. Mathematical precision strumming upon the tightened strings of the weave as two mages begin the sequence. Voices humming as the hard light lines of an arcane rune begins to expand outwards into the space, Ford taking the perimeter movements as Officer Underfoot fills the interior with his own, specially modified circles.

Nervousness on his first duty, Jason Ford’s hands casting with insane precision as he draws a nearly perfect eight sided shape. A final interconnected line, three dimensional proposition attached in an infinite loop of energy.

Arcane power held in place, the space between reality awaiting a final signal for operation as the Mage at the center of it all continues in his casting.

A thought process interrupted by the observation of his superior, Jason Ford shaken by the grading of a more experienced officer. “Wow kid, you should be working in a fabrication firm with that level of precision.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“The only reason you should be drawing sequencer circles that precise is if you’re summoning demons, or fabricating a freestanding bridge.” Officer Underfoot chuckles at his own joke. “Relax kid, we're cops in the field. Our sequencers don’t have to be perfect. In fact, most of the time the faster you make’em the better.”

“F-faster, sir?”

A mind only partially acknowledging the subordinate rookie, a mental process mainly focused on the finishing touches for the rune itself. “Don’t spare the extra three seconds on making an arcane shield perfect. I know they tell you otherwise at school, but by the time you finish your perfect shield you probably won’t need it anymore.”

Underfoot lets the pause carry for a moment, the final circle finished in record time. “Cause you’ll probably be too dead to use it.”

Lines of energy condensed, a final path completed as the mage stands from the ritual floor. Atop scratched wooden planks, glowing pale lines slam together upon the short form of the halfling; an extension of his mind focused upon ocular nerves as eyes glow a pale blue.

Visual range obstructed in the monocoloring of scientific spellcraft, Officer Underfoot claps his hands in the confirmation of a successful ritual. “Nice work kid.”

“T-thank you sir..”

Ignoring the highlighted form of a comrade in arms wearing magical items, the police mage instead focuses the detection spell towards the ambient environment. Settled dust charged with evocation energy, an entire room showing evidence of arcane tampering. Underfoot brings his report as he scans with augmented vision. “Note this down kid: evidence of charged arcanite dust; with average-weak energy decay on a level six intensity. Unknown decay age.”

Jason Ford nods as he quickly writes down verbatim, continuing to listen to Underhill’s investigation.

A trained inquisitive brain notes the lack of charge within bedding, instead focusing on the immense power maintained on the single oak closet at the edge of the room.

“Well what do we have here?” The mage strolls over, gently unlatching double doors. A pause as he gives the warning. “Hold your breath, it would be bad if any of us OD right here.”

Two bodies comically sucking in air, breaths held as Officer Underfoot carefully opens the palace of clothing.