“So… how many weeks?”

I turned, confused. “What?”

“How many weeks were you suspended for?” Sarah asked again, perched on the edge of my desk like she owned it, swinging her legs back and forth. She looked up at me, all wide-eyed and smug, like she was waiting for some juicy confession. Even sitting like that, I still towered over her by at least a head.

“I wasn’t suspended,” I sighed, going back to rearranging my workspace. Someone had definitely been here—stationery out of place, a couple things missing. I glanced up at her, narrowing my eyes. “You took my pen, didn’t you? And the Sharpie?”

“What do you mean you weren’t suspended?” she said, completely ignoring my accusation. Her hands were folded under her chin, hiding the suspicious bulge in her pocket. “If I got called into Ground Zero first thing in the morning, I'd be sure I wasn’t leaving without something nasty on my back. Tell me you at least got something—docked pay? Desk duty? Anything—Ow!”

I swatted her with a rolled-up folder. “Noisy.”

“I’m serious!” she whined, rubbing her ear. “It’s not fair the golden boy gets to walk away scot-free after doing something totally scat-worthy.”

I blinked, staring at her. “...Scat-worthy?”

She pouted, and then I realized. “Wait… you’ve been on desk duty a lot lately, haven’t you? And where’s Dragon? I didn’t see her in the parking lot this morning.”

Sarah crossed her arms under her chest, sulking. “The boss grounded me. Stupid car snitched, so I left it at home and took the TransLink.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “That’s why you’re pestering me so much. Well, what did you do this time?”

“...Nothing,” she mumbled, too quickly to be convincing.

I shook my head, not really caring. “You know what? I don’t even want to know. Just get off my desk.”

“No!” she declared dramatically, like some kind of revolutionary. “I’m protesting the unfairness of the system! I won’t move until this blatant nepotism is expunged from—Ow!”

Another quick swat with the folder. “Move.”

“Watch it! Hit me there again and—”

“And what?”

“Or I’ll report you to HR!”

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Yes! For sexual harassment!” she declared, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads. I crossed my arms, curious where this was going.

“...How?”

“Oh, you forgot,” she said, feigning smugness. “I identify as an elf! My ears are erogenous zones. Smacking them counts as sexual harassment.”

The office went dead silent. A few officers looked over, eyebrows raised. I stared at her for a second, then, with deliberate slowness, I smacked her ear again. Harder this time.

Laughter rippled through the room.

“Hey!” she yelped, but I held the folder up like a weapon, halting whatever retort she had ready.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Fine, fine,” she muttered, slinking off the desk. “You’re such a hard-ass, you know that?”

Ignoring her, I settled into my chair, fingers already clacking at the keyboard. “Administrator,” I called once she was out of earshot, “you there?”

An animated icon popped up in the corner of my screen. “Morning, Officer Newman. How can I assist you?”

“Morning. Any updates on the powered incident from yesterday?”

“Affirmative. The forensics report and CCTV footage came in this morning. I’ve sent them to your terminal.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, already pulling up the files.

“Oh, and Detective Martinez is waiting in Office 209 on the ninety-eighth floor.”

“I am aware.” The icon blinked away as I skimmed the footage, leaning back in my chair. Across the room, the printer hummed to life, churning out the forensic report. I grabbed the hard copy, reading as I made my way back to my desk. It took about thirty minutes to finish reviewing it, but even then, I wasn’t in a rush. I spent a few more minutes checking emails before deciding to finally go deal with Martinez.

This wasn’t about solving the case, not really. The boss had all but said it without saying it. This was about keeping the feds at arm’s length, making sure Martinez couldn’t dig his hands too deep into our business.

When I got to the elevator, I saw a few officers huddled around a screen showing some grisly images of a butchered body. Another screen in the corner played local news on mute—something about a surge in megafauna at the city’s outskirts. I stepped into the empty hallway, counting the doors as I passed. Five down, I stopped in front of 209, the number stamped on a worn brass plaque.

Inside, Detective Martinez sat at the oval table, his posture stiff, his face a stone wall of disapproval. He looked as put together as always—crisp suit, stern expression. Meanwhile, my own uniform was a tad rumpled, jacket worn thin in places.

“Officer Newman,” he said, not bothering to hide his impatience. “Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” His fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the desk.

I frowned, leaning against the doorframe. “Detective Martinez, always a pleasure.” It wasn’t. “Hope you didn’t have to wait long. Gotta say, it’s impressive how PASIT can turn a simple case into a federal mess in record time. Kidnapping, robbery, and now you lot. Quite the trifecta. What’s next? The Prime Minister dropping by?”

His drumming fingers stopped, and he glared. “Funny.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a phone onto the table. It hit with a thud, glowing as matrix patterns spread across the surface. Holographic screens blinked into view above the table.

“At two-forty yesterday, you were rerouted from your patrol to investigate a call from the Johnson & Co. building.” Martinez gestured to a screen showing me and a trainee exiting Roadman. “Your body cam and radio logs show that you encountered a Psionic who denied you entry. Shots were fired, and you called for backup when you realized there was a hostage situation inside. Correct?”

“Sure,” I said, watching the footage play on loop. “Any leads on their identities?”

“The suspects are part of a syndicate out of Penrose—highly trained, multiple felonies. They’re high-priority, and we needed them alive for interrogation.” He paused, then leaned forward. “The directive we passed to you was clear. Soft-kill tactics. Disarm and disable only.”

I glanced at a video of me firing at the Dynamo, the bullet being stopped by the Psionic’s water shield. “Where are you going with this?”

“Despite our directive, you used lethal force. Your actions escalated the situation, causing the suspects to flee before Taskforce could intervene. Because of you, four dangerous paranormals are still on the loose, and they took classified documents with them. What do you have to say for yourself, Corporal?”

I stared at him, disgust welling up inside me. So this is what it was—a blame game. They messed up, and now they were looking for someone to hang it on.

“The Dynamo escalated the situation,” I drawled, disinterested in entering this farce. “If I hadn’t acted, we’d have casualties on our side.”

“That wasn’t your call to make.” Martinez’s eyes narrowed. “Because of your decision, we lost our window of opportunity!”

I leaned forward, my hands resting on the table as I glared down at him. “If you can’t even own your mistakes, what good are you?”

Martinez didn’t flinch.

I straightened, pulling at my jacket. “We’re done here. Have a good day, Detective.”

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

“Newman.”

I half-turned. “What?”

Martinez’s eyes glinted coldly as he pointed to the last screen left floating above the table. It showed footage of me pulling the trainee out of harm’s way as Roadman got rammed by a van, sending him careening into a wall.

“How were you able to lift a grown man that fast? And with one arm? I expected you to come in today with a sling, but you’re looking just fine. It seems almost… paranormal. Care to explain?”

I met his gaze, unblinking. “There’s nothing to explain.” Then I turned and walked out.

“I am watching you Newman!” Martinez threatened as I shut the door behind me. I stood there for a moment, gritting my teeth in anger.

“Fucking prick.”