Chapter 78 - Miscommunication

Vern waited as the policeman came marching in his slow steps and stopped right in front of him, a scowl on his face. He wore a high-collared coat crafted from a dark, sturdy fabric with a row of brass buttons that caught the dim light filtering through the fog. A waistcoat just as dark and flashy alongside the pants of the same material added a hint of formality to this practical uniform.

On his head sat a distinct helmet, notable for its integrated goggles that used more brass for intricate detailing, surrounding the lenses that served Lady-knows-what purpose. Many little equipment hung onto his service-issued belt including a baton, lightlamp, and an ammo box.

An ammo box for the rifle that was gripped tightly in his hands. He looked on with his stern and vigilant expression and barked, "State your identity, purpose, and religion!"

Disgruntled thoughts ran through Vern's head as he tried to keep up his friendly expression and replied in a diffusing tone, "A happy new year, officer. My name is Vern Lockwood, a fundamentalist, and I'm headed to Ferrovane Heights for the first day of my work." Then, putting one hand on his chest, he finished, "And I only believe in the Lady from beyond."

The man squinted, the suspicion in his eyes only growing heavier, "I haven't seen you round here, and I've been here for three whole days. Not just that, what fundamentalist goes to work without a briefcase? And what work is there for a fundamentalist in Ferrovane Heights anyway? I apologize, but I'll need to verify your claims."

Vern sighed internally. He couldn't even tell them that he worked for Vigil. According to his understanding of the matter, Vigil was formed on the eve of Duskfall itself, and not many knew it even existed. The government wasn't very happy about having another group of power within their city, so he might just be inviting more trouble by telling this policeman about it.

He assessed all his options and used his tried and tested method, "If you wouldn't mind me reaching into my pockets, I can show you my badge from Coven of Truth."

The man kept the rifle aimed in Vern’s general direction with those hands wrapped in leather gloves and nodded.

With slow, deliberate movements, Vern reached into one of his inner pockets and pulled out that badge with an hourglass etched on it, extending it towards the policeman.

The man seemed to calm down a little, but his eyebrows remained knitted together. Taking one hand off the rifle, he snatched the badge and checked it from all angles.

"It is the real deal. But we've had at least a dozen cases where people looted such badges from the remains of the people lost in the Duskfall and tried to pass themselves off as the owner."

However, after switching back and forth between Vern's innocent and scholarly expression and the authentic badge a couple times, he sighed and lowered his rifle. Returning the trinket, he said, "But my judgment says it belongs to you."

Then, with a shake of his head, he softly whispered, "I am a little too sensitive, maybe."

Tucking the badge back in his pocket, Vern dipped his head, "Thank you, officer. Can I go now?"

The man seemed conflicted for a second before replying, "Yes. But after a quick body search."

Vern's expression, which had just turned for the better took a nosedive as he realized a fatal mistake. Civilians weren't allowed to carry guns.

Fuck.

He had never even considered this could be an issue, given the state of the society. But in this situation and under this light of suspicion, this was sure to become a problem.

He didn't have a license for carrying the gun, and he doubted the man would listen to his arguments as to why he would need to carry one in a 'lawful' district.

What the hell do I do?

The policeman walked towards him, slinking the rifle on his back as he pulled those gloves tighter.

Should I make a run for it?

He looked around, and it was quite foggy. If he could manage to make a little distance from the man, he should be able to slip into an alley and escape easily.

Yet, not even a moment passed before he discarded such a stupid plan. A little search on their end would lead them right back to the hotel, where they could figure out all about him. He would have to give up all his possessions there for nothing, only to later skunk around like some criminal.

No. That would be stupid. I can't have myself shot or put in jail for such a stupid reason. Not on such an important day, at least. Something major was going to happen at the Vigil today. He was called straight to the headquarters, not at a random hideout in some district.

He couldn't miss that. Not for this.

Vern stood there frozen as the man began frisking him from top to bottom.

His heart raced faster and faster as the man patted down his pockets and moved further down at a brisk pace.

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Vern’s frustration mounted rapidly. This was such a petty problem. He should have asked Butler De Flanc about this beforehand.

Surely, Captain Shinsei, Ambrose, and others don't get frisked by a common policeman every day. They must have some official method to ignore such insignificant hassles.

"You okay, Mister?"

The policeman met Vern's shaky gaze and paused his search, "Something wrong?"

Vern's brain churned, and he quickly responded, "Oh, there’s something I forgot to mention."

The policeman instantly turned vigil and alert, focusing on Vern's hand, expecting some trickery to follow as he gripped his rifle again. But instead, a ring appeared in Vern's eyes, and he pulled one flap of his coat to the side.

"Please wait, officer. I just forgot to mention that I have the prototype of a weapon I am currently working on latched onto my waist. It can be dangerous if handled without care."

But before Vern could explain any further, a kick landed on his stomach, and the force sent him crashing towards the wall with intense ferocity.

"HAGHHH! I knew it! I fucking knew it! I knew you were one of them. The moment I laid my eyes on you, I fucking knew it. You're going nowhere! You're not taking down anyone with you today. I'm not like the others."

His eyes bulged wide, darting frantically as his voice cracked and pitched high. He pulled back the rifle's stock to his shoulder and aimed at Vern, screeching, "You aren't fooling anyone with your bullshit! Not me!" and without any hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

CLICK

His brows furrowed as he turned his eyes towards the rifle, puzzled over what went wrong. But his eyes continued to flicker intensely as his face turned hot from exertion.

Discarding the current bullet and bolting the next shot, he pulled the trigger another time.

CLICK

The man began to hyperventilate, his breaths coming out in uneven bursts. His hands trembled, and his lips quivered as he discarded the whole chamber and shells clanked on the ground.

"Not me! Not them! You won't destroy anyone’s family! I won't let you!" He continued shouting as he grabbed a fresh bullet from his ammo box and loaded it into the chamber, aiming at Vern.

Vern stood there against the wall, calm and unfazed, a distant and indifferent look in his eyes.

With a soothing voice, Vern consoled the man, "Calm down."

But the policeman was having none of it and pulled the trigger in rapid succession.

click

click

click

click

"This can't be! My comrades! We need to finish him! Nib him in the bud before he enters in there. WHY!? Why the fuck is this junk not working!"

He stared at his rifle without blinking, resetting every latch and lever frantically before shooting again, only for it to do nothing except for clicking uselessly.

Frustrated, he threw the rifle aside, discarding it for an unfallible weapon. With a useful click, he pulled out his baton and charged towards Vern.

"HAGHH! You won't! You thought you could fool me and go kill more innocent children!?" he bellowed, a twisted grin stretched across his face. With an intense fervor, he made a beeline towards Vern, ready to beat him to a pulp.

Vern simply stared back silently, a placid look on his face. The baton headed for Vern's head, which would almost certainly be a fatal hit if it connected, but he didn’t seem like he had any intention to move.

“DIE!!!”

THUMP

"Stand down, officer!"

Just as the thing was mere inches away from Vern's head, a hand intervened and instantly halted all that momentum in its tracks. Vern had seen this man running to interject here quite a while ago.

A man taller than Vern himself snatched the baton from the policeman's hand and ferociously struck the man on his shoulder.

“AGHHH!!!” Vern heard a bone crack before the baton went tumbling on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing, officer!?"

"Commander, AHH! But this. This man!" The policeman supported his broken arm with the other and pointed towards Vern with a distorted expression, "He is one of them! It will be just like back then. He will kill them all! No one will survive."

“You’re telling me this guy who stood there stupidly in front of a gun is the mastermind here?” The taller man held his forehead and sighed. Then, with a voice that boomed throughout the street, "Who's squad does this one belong to!?"

“I will go get him, sir,” replied another policeman without a moment’s delay as he dashed past many men.

A crowd had gathered around them as they watched the display with a look of fear and trepidation. Quiet murmurs spread around them, and Vern heard a few,

"These men are supposed to…protect us? Like this? He didn’t even listen to the kid."

"That guy didn't do nothing, brother. Nothing. But that bastard? He kept trying to gun him down, woulda peppered him with holes if that thing worked."

"Well, that's police for you.” Shrugged another man, “This is where all that tax we pay is used. All, so one day, they can stop you randomly and take your life for breathing."

But before it could get any more heated, the tall commander bellowed, "This is not a show. Get out of here!"

And as if his voice held an unknown pressure, the crowd cleared up almost instantly, and the fog reclaimed its rightful space.

Another policeman came running, pushing down on his helmet to keep it from falling off. He gasped for breath, yet stood tall and saluted towards the tall one, "What can I do for you, commander?"

Muscles bulged underneath the commander's arms as he gripped the shoulders of Vern's assailant and barked, "What you can do for me is keep your men from causing a fucking commotion! If they can't control their trigger finger, chop 'em off for all I care."

Pointing at the shadows in a couple alleyways, he continued, "This district is not fully secure. We can't have them losing grip in public like this! Duke will strip us of everything if something goes wrong with the operation because of stupid bullshit like this."

However, Vern’s aggressor interjected, "But, commander, captain! This one has a gun! He's carrying a gun! He is a threat. He wants to go to Ferrovane Heights. He'll kill more people, captain. He should be kil—"

"SHUT UP AND GET A GRIP!" The commander roared, smashing his head into the man's.

The squad leader jumped in the middle and tried to de-escalate, "Commander, let me handle this, please. He has gone through a lot. His wife and daughter were caught up in that incident with patients of a mental Asylum in the Athenaeum district last week. Please let me take care of this."

"Yes! Yes! Commander, listen to me. This man is just like them. A madman, I am telling you! A madman! I am not making it up. He acts calm and lies without a hint of emotion on his face. We shouldn't let him—"

The squad leader slapped him in the face, "Kenny, shut up! If you keep acting like this, you're the one that will need to go to the asylum!"

The slap finally seemed to jerk the man out of a trance as he looked at Vern with a complicated expression.

But before Vern could try and lodge his grievances, the tall commander walked up to him, and looked down, "And what's your deal? That one might not be right in the head, but there's no fire without smoke. Why did it come to this?"