Greyson quickly points towards one of the empty desks in the room, Judge Murphy’s gaze following. “That’ll be your desk, and there’ll be a storage locker and quarters within the quarters assigned to you. Did you bring any luggage?”

“No.”

“In that case: Hoppe, can you draft a twenty dollar allocation for Judge Murphy?”

The woman pauses mid-sentence, a mind pulled from absolute focus. “Certainly sir.”

“I’ll get the room prepped and a locker allocated out.” Greyson continues. “Get settled in, sir.”

The old Judge nods as the man slips away, the pair of souls left within the confines of four walls leading towards an awkward silence.

A breaking of nothingness with a fragment of productivity, Judge Murphy strolling across the room and towards the mapped out wall of criminal activity. Hand-drawn and beautifully imprinted, each of March’s five districts laid out in impeccable detail.

Scarred by pin holes, the dozens upon dozens of colors play themselves out upon the entire city, a random amalgamation of chaos against an attempt at order and law.

The footsteps behind the old man trigger instincts, Murphy turning to face the approaching woman. “Judge Hoppe.”

A single strip of paper within her hands, raised as an offering towards the senior. “An allocated twenty dollars. You can turn this in for cash at any bank, though March Central is the closest and the one that cries the least fowl when turning them in.”

“Thank you Judge.” Murphy grimly nods.

“No problem sir.” Judge Hoppe straightens slightly as the praise is processed, turning towards the observed map of March. “Sorry about the… inaccuracy of the map. It’s been difficult to maintain it.”

“Whose in charge of it?”

“Oh that map’s Chase’s project now.” Hoppe comments, a distinct sadness on her face.

The old man blinks as he recalls a read report. “Judge Bryant Chase?”

“Yes sir.” Judge Hoppe confirms. “It was his, Judge Salim, and Senior Judge White’s idea. Though, with Salim and White gone it’s much more difficult to keep track of all the activity. Chase has been trying to cut down on the listings but…”

A moment of silence at the mention of the names, Judge Murphy taking a deep breath before answering in cold motion. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Two months and three Judges.” Hoppe sighs. “Is this normal… sir?”

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“How long have you been a judge, Judge Hoppe?”

“One year and six months sir.” The woman replies staunchly, a slight hint of shame hidden within the short time frame. “Graduated from Cadet in Augustine and was immediately transferred here.”

Judge Murphy answers her question from experience. “It is not too uncommon for Judges to take fatalities, especially around here near the Frontier, and in the cases of Traveling Judges. However the cause of deaths for your comrades are concerned to the Department of Justice.”

“You mean the cause of death being targeted killings?” Hoppe specifies.

Judge Murphy blinks. “You wrote the reports, correct?”

“Yes sir, though Greyson and Chase believe the killings were not connected. We have had a bit of a disagreement on the conclusions of the investigations.”

“Centralis is drawing their own conclusions based on the reports.” Judge Murphy informs carefully. “What about your cadet, what does he think?”

“He’s just trying to survive.” Judge Hoppe attempts to joke, a grim smile followed with a chuckle. “All due respect sir, but with ourselves undermanned like this Cadet Smith’s field training is much more dangerous than it should be. If possible, can you convince Central to at least transfer him out to Augustine or December?”

“That’s the life of a Judge.” Judge Murphy coldly informs the coward. “If he survives, he’ll be tough as nails. As harbingers of the law we cannot skirt danger, that is what we are made to do.”

The young judge processes the statement, eyes averted as she answers him. “Yes sir.”

“Southland Cadets do take higher casualties compared to the rest, but they’re always the toughest.” Murphy recalls from experience. “And remember Judge Hoppe, you and your comrades have your duty to mentor him as well.”

“I understand sir.” The woman blinks. “But… I just don’t know about this. It’s a gut feeling, but I think there’s something larger happening here in March. I’m not certain I can say anything more, but I think there may be an informant within the Police Department.”

Judge Murphy pauses as he quiets his voice, eyes maintained upon the map. “Do you have any evidence of this?”

“The March County Sheriff was also assassinated three weeks ago. He was gunned down outside his residence.” Judge Hoppe adds. “Though I’m certain Greyson will cover this when he briefs you.”

The old Judge remains stoic at the information, the question directed at the woman coldly given in execution. “And you believe it’s connected somehow?”

The young Judge takes a breath. “It’s not an official finding, but after writing and collecting the investigation reports I’m inclined to believe it’s the same group.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman glances at the map, pointing towards the pins. “Each color is our best guess on organized crime. The usual gang activity is in yellow, along with the racketeering and illegal arms trade in the northwestern district in red.”

A single color dominates the map. A rare occasion for each, their numbers small but spread across the entire city.

“What’s the light blue?” Judge Murphy cuts in as he points.

“Temple of the Savior, they’re one of the dozens of active… violent cults in the city” Judge Hoppe informs coldly. “You know about the ancient ruins that run beneath the old city? They believe the Savior of our world is sleeping within the underground of March.”

“That’s a common belief for many sects.”

From behind them the man speaks up, Judge Greyson interrupting the conversation as he strolls in. “This one’s different. Savior’s Temple believes the Savior himself guides their actions. Their faith’s pretty admirable, in a strange way. I wouldn’t be surprised if any of our partners in the Police Precincts were part of the cult.”