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Chapter 41: The Detective

Jack Manifold never meant to become an assassin.

It's funny how the world worked like that.

He had cleaned up the blood beforehand, but walking down the busy streets of the ancient city of Qiffield, he couldn't help but rub his hands together nervously, like he was still running them under the tap, the cold water washing away dirty red and down the drain.

How did this come to be?

The streets were crowded, but it was the type of area that even if somebody was looking directly in your direction, it was most likely that they were just looking through you, or looking for easy targets to pickpocket. Jack was a bit of a noticeable guy, his height nor physical traits not too impressive other than his multicolored eyes, but by the way he presented himself, his brown almost combat like boots and two toned desaturated blue and almost pinky-red detective coat that flowed below his knees and buttoned with a golden clasp at his midsection, his white shirt and slightly two toned pants visible underneath. He wore a hat as well, a slightly blue-grey brimmed cap, and it was clear to anyone there where exactly he was going. It wasn't hard to identify the detective that frequented the streets outside of the detective station. Just like with soldiers, people with guilty consciousnesses made sure to stray away from him, stiff necks and quick steps as they made sure Jack didn't look at them too long, but Jack never thought that he would be one of the guilty crowd as well. Passing through the bodies in the broad daylight sun, he finally reached his turn as he strode into the station, an air of professionality to him.

It was time to put on the good face. To pretend that nothing happened. And to tell his supervisor that he had done exactly what he had wanted him to do.

Walking in the glass double doors that he had helped establish himself, he entered the white tile floors and light brown lobby, taking off his hat and swinging his jacket off his shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack by the door that was his. With a nod, he greeted his best mate who ran the desk, who had just looked up from the busy work she had her head buried in.

"How do, Niki?" Jack smiled, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Niki was his coordinator, she kept him all in order and made sure that he kept getting assignments. She handled the connections, the business meetings, the whole show. She was really a life saver, but more than that she had become Jack's best friend. She took her job seriously as well, her hair pulled back into a low bun with her two streaks of blond hair hanging messily but purposefully out, and a white button-up short sleeve shirt and dress pants. "I'm doing great, Jack. It's good to see you, it's been a bit quiet without you here. How'd the mission go?" Niki greeted him back sweetly.

"Another win for the Jack Manifold book." He'd long since stopped telling her details about the types of trips he was taking that she didn't organize herself, not out of malicious intent but more for her own safety. He stood in front of her desk in the small room, the place quaint but still slightly decorated. The big oak desk was Niki's workplace and took up most of the room, but there was a brown leather couch across from it and a plant shoved into the corner by the only door on the first floor level. That was Jack's meeting area, where he would take witnesses to a safe spot to chat and see his supervisors. Upstairs was where most of the magic happened, where his actual office was, as well as his filing cabinet room and investigation room and his makeshift bedroom for long nights.

"That's good to hear." Niki tapped her quill down on the table, before pointing to the office. "The general's in there, he's waiting for your report. We can talk more later."

"Thanks Niki. You're the best." Jack swallowed hard, leaving Niki back to her work, leaving her unaware. Niki knew what was happening in general. She knew what Jack was going through. And she did her best to be there for him, for the nights he couldn't fall asleep, for the nights that guilt ate him up from the inside out, but they had both agreed that maybe keeping her out of the loop was for the best. He walked to the door, the sinking feeling of being cornered rising up his back when he turned the nob, opening it up to his supervisor who stood in the middle of his room, intently studying some nick-nacks he had on the book shelves.