Hypothalamus

Chapter 1 Cemetery Chats

Slouching over my desk I continuously click and drag my mouse as I form my file. I rub my eyes tired from my lack of sleep and the brightness from the computer. How do I turn the brightness down? Or maybe turn on the blue filter, if this old junk even has that setting?

"God, I still don't know why the chief allowed this freak in our district", Charles, a lame excuse of an officer says loudly, not bothering to whisper. Ugh. "I mean he's only here as a diversity hire to seem cordial with the mutants."

I roll my eyes ignoring him as I return to my work. Sorting through the files,a shiver goes down my spine as I view the attached image. A man burnt to ash, his skin crumbling off the bone and body curling in on itself. What a mess, must've taken forever to clean that carpet. So many reports like this have been going through, all committed by the same person. Yahweh, Bahamut, Ryū, Typhon. Whatever the language or myth, they call him a dragon. And a dragon he is, he's a pyro mutant that burns his victims alive. After torturing them of course. God, I've been collecting info on this guy for months after his first kills; some rich dudes. I'm stumped. There doesn't seem to be any connections between the victims. I know it's a mutant that breathes fire because gastric juices were left at the crime scenes.

"Hey! I'm talking to you freak!", Charles annoyingly yells at me.

I twirl my chair around looking him up and down, "What?"

"I was asking what the hell you do in this office."

"You're annoying and interrupting my work. Go away." I turn back to my screen continuing to go through the files.

"Oh, come on", Mel intervenes, "Leave Vance alone and go back to work. I wouldn't want to have to call the chief because your not working."

He begrudgingly shuffles away with his cup of 'coffee'. Everyone here is stupid if they don't realize. That man has a bottle in his desk drawer and a flask in his jacket. He drinks enough to get an elephant drunk. Honestly, he is constantly hammered just somehow functional.

"You good?", Mel ask tucking her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. The placement reveals a hickey peaking out from the collar of her uniform.

"Perfectly fine. He's less of a prevention and more of an annoyance when it comes to work."

"An annoyance he is", she says with a smile. Her phone beeps and as she peeks at the screen her cheeks turn rosy. Cute.

"I'm taking a break", I say as I swivel my chair around, hopping up. She gives a thumbs up and a wide smile as I walk out the back.

I sit in the curb staring out at the parking lot before pulling my lighter out. My thumb grazes over the flint wheel until a spark turns into a flame. Hovering my palm over the flame I close my eyes waiting to feel the heat. It doesn't come. It never does. Letting out a sigh I get up crossing the road to the donut shop.

"Good afternoon Samara", I greet her with a wave.

"Hi Vance, what can I get for you?", she ask.

"My regular."

"Papa! Seis donas azucaradas en polvo rellenas de frambuesa!", she yells to her dad in the back.

"Te esucho!", he yells back mumbling something to himself.

"Hi Vance", Mrs. Gomez comes around the corner,"How are you?"

I shrug, "I'm good."

"For a man so handsome you don't seem to smile much. You should marry a nice girl to make you smile, my mija is single", she suggest as she leans on the counter.

"Mami!", Samara squeals obviously embarrassed. "Don't say that."

I swear Mrs. Gomez tries to get me to marry Samara everytime I come in.