SEVENTEN OFFICES| EARLY EVENING
And so, step up they had.
Diaxio had been busy, sending her web as far as Brunnhold to acquire fresh new victims to fall into the cycle of supply and demand, loathe to admit that since he'd been gone Benjamin Tolsby’s absence was noticed. For the sheer stupidity he bore, the ersehole had been good at his job. He lured fluttering young girls with his music and seduced them with tidbits of the Crop. A tiny bit to tempt their eager innocent souls into the darkness. For all the mess he caused, Ben had been part of the circle.
Part of the Order.
Of course, no one knew what happened to him. No one had seen him leave the theater and no one saw him come back. The papers had speculated so much, and got nothing right.
Damen speculated too, but he had nothing that could support his speculations, and he knew how unsupported speculations could pan out. Well, he knew how supported ones could pan out too, depending on who was lining the judges pockets.
It was good, having the peace and quiet tonight.
It was good not to have Rhys clocking Valentin in his sight. The Bastian sat back from his paperwork and stroked a hand through his cropped beard. The bastard towhead had managed to get himself assigned to Damen’s own patrol, Gods knew how, but no matter how hard he made a case for the disgraced Sergeant to be removed from his sight Haines wouldn’t budge. There were reasons of course. Redemption, water under the bridge, all that nonsense. His field flared and his fist curled tightly around the quill in his hand.
There was no water under the bridge. Not for the farmers boy that had corrupted his Charity. His daughter.
Hadn’t the moony fool learned his lesson? Hadn’t he felt the blows across his ribs, across his face? It was almost a surprise to Damen to know he’d survived his encounter with them, and the blue eyed man had to give him a little nod. He’d taken the beating like a good dog, and surely Charity knew then. She knew that she’d made a grave mistake. She’d come home to him after that, tail between her legs, begging for her husbands life.
Gah, the word made him want to vomit.
But she hadn’t, and Rhys had recovered. Ben had gone missing. And then, like the ever persistent thorn in his side the Valentin had appeared in his office like nothing had happened.
They both knew it had though, and as much as the Captain smirked at the memories, he also quickly frowned at the way the chroveshite smiled at him. The way he mocked him.
At least tonight, he wouldn’t be around. Tonight, he would be somewhere in the city, somewhere with his Charity. Somewhere Damen was yet to locate, a year later and still not quite sure where they had moved from that hovel above the dsoh shop, but he would. Oh, yes he would.
Sucking on his teeth, the D’Arthe returned to his paperwork, avoiding thoughts of his daughter and that filth. It was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.
Snap!
The quill broke, spraying ink across the paper work. Damen hissed in frustration, throwing the broken thing down and reaching for his kerchief to wipe his hand.
"Officer Duxel? I require you a moment. Officer?" He called out, not bothering to glance up from his wiping, field brimming with annoyance and his temple throbbing with anger.
Where was that bloody--
"OFFICER DUXEL!?!" He roared, finally looking up with the crackling weight of Static mona threaded through his field. Standing, he began to storm around the desk.
"Officer when your superior calls you, you bloody well answer do you hear me?!"