Fourth day of posting 5 chapters in a week.
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[Edith Nivea]
The steam from the tea rises, drawing spirals in the air above the table where we're sitting. We both keep our eyes fixed on the cup. The silence between us is heavy, loaded with unspoken words.
"So Yami Kage…" I begin only to stop, unsure of what to say. "That's a different name."
My tone is friendly, but the tigress in front of me widens her eyes behind her glasses and politely raises a hand.
"Please, call me HǔPò or Carlie," the tigress says. "HǔPò is my birth name and Carlie is my American name."
"Alright," I reply, relieved not to have to call her by a name that sounds like a villain from an Asian cartoon. "Let's start over and you explain your story properly."
Sighing, exhausted, Carlie takes a breath and begins her explanation:
"My mother kicked me out of the house. Said I brought dishonor to the family."
Carlie's voice is low, but each word carries the weight of a mountain. Her orange eyes, once so vibrant, are now dull, reflecting a deep pain.
"And she said the only way to regain my honor and return home is…" She hesitates, swallowing hard, her hands gripping the cup tightly. "Is to get pregnant by Marcus."
The revelation hits me like a punch in the gut.
"So it's not just because you're his wife?" I mention with a dry voice remembering what she said earlier.
Carlie lifts her eyes, meeting mine. There's a mix of determination and shame in her gaze.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Nivia, but the situation is very embarrassing," Carlie says, her face red. "I know it seems strange to you a western anthro, but where I come from, finding a strong and healthy partner is very important to ensure the future of a dynasty."
She takes a sip from her drink continue to explain:
"Marcus challenged my mother in exchange for contacts and services, she suspected that he was not a normal male and that's why she put my hand in marriage as a prize for him." Her voice, once firm, now trembles, heavy with desperation. "So even if she lost, she got a strong son-in-law to strengthen her bloodline."
Carlie stands as I bring my cup to my lips, the dragging of the chair echoing through the room. I watch, frozen, as she kneels on the floor, pressing her forehead to the ground.
"Please, Miss Nivia!" She exclaims, almost shouting. "I beg you, allow me to carry a cub or two from Marcus."
Her plea leaves me breathless. I feel a lump in my throat, a mix of compassion and jealousy suffocating me.
"Carlie, please get up," my voice came out firmer than I expected. "You don't need to do this."
She lifts her gaze, eyes brimming with tears.
"I can't go back home without completing my mission," her voice falters, but there's a fierce determination in her eyes. "And as the wife of the Warrior Dragon, I need your permission to mate with him."
I open my mouth to reply, but the words get stuck.
'What can I say?' I think in silence, confused. 'I guess I better start by clearing up her mistake.'
I get up from the chair, walking around the table to where Carlie is kneeling.
"Carlie, you've got it all wrong," my voice is soft, but firm. "Marcus and I are not married. In fact, we're not even dating."
Carlie lifts her gaze, confusion written all over her face.
"But… but he lives here, doesn't he?" Her voice is a whisper, as if trying to understand something beyond her comprehension. "And I can smell him on you, you probably made-." She pauses for a second, embarrassed about what she was going to say. "You got intimate not long ago, right?"
"Yes, we did," I confirm, getting a little reddish on the checks as I sit on the floor beside her. "But that doesn't mean we're a couple."
She blinks, eyes wide in confusion and asks:
"I don't understand. What are you?"
I sigh, trying to organize my thoughts and answer:.
"It's complicated," I reply, avoiding the details.
"And why do you smell like you had a long night of-."
"WHAT'S THAT?!" I shout, trying to change the subject by pointing at the television. "Looks like there was a bank robbery today."
I turn up the volume on the TV, and the voice of the gazelle journalist fills the room. Carlie, still on the floor, turns toward the screen.
{In a surprising turn of events, the hostages from the bank robbery were rescued unharmed thanks to the heroic actions of Captain Shanika Jackson and her team.} The journalist says, his voice full of admiration. {Despite disobeying direct orders to wait for the negotiator's arrival, Captain Shanika took the initiative and led her team in a bold operation that resulted in the capture of the robbers and the release of the hostages all unharmed.}
The screen shows images of Captain Shanika, an imposing Anthro orca, exiting the bank with the hostages. Her SWAT uniform is dirty with dust, but her face shows an expression of pure determination.
{The mayor, however, is not pleased with the Captain's actions in ignoring direct orders.} The journalist continues, now with a more serious tone. {Sources close to the mayor report that she is considering punishing the captain by removing her from the 'State Assignment' system.}
The report cuts to more images of the hostages being attended to by paramedics. The scene is chaotic, but there's an underlying order, a choreographed dance of trained professionals.
Carlie, still beside me, lets out a surprised gasp.
"Hey!" She exclaims, her voice trembling with excitement. "It's Marcus!"
My eyes follow the direction of her finger, and there he is. Marcus, sitting cross-legged on a gurney, holding a large cup of coffee. His expression is one of pure disgust, as if the liquid in that cup were the most repugnant thing he's ever tasted. Even so, he drinks, each sip accompanied by a grimace that nearly makes me smile.
"What's he doing there?" I ask, more to myself than to Carlie.
"I don't know," Carlie replies, her eyes still fixed on the screen. "But atleast he seems to be alright."
[Marcus Carvalho]
The captain finishes asking her questions about the incident. She reviews her notes, her dark eyes scanning quickly across the paper. The silence in the room is broken only by the sound of the pencil scratching the notepad.
"Your information matches that of the other hostages," she responds, satisfied.
She lifts her gaze, eyes locked onto mine. Her expression is serious, but there's a gleam of curiosity there.
"You're lucky, Marcus. It could have been worse." She closes the notepad with a sharp movement, the sound echoing through the small room. "But before I let you go, I'd like to ask one more question."
She stands, the chair creaking against the concrete floor. The captain is tall, her imposing presence filling the room. She places both hands on the metal table, leaning forward as she stares into me with an intense look.
The captain's eyes narrow, curiosity now mixed with something more serious.
"Marcus, you're 23 years old, right?" the captain asks in a threatening tone. "Why don't you have an Anthro as your State Assignment?"
The question catches me off guard for a second, but son Edith's words echo in my mind talking about the subject. Things like 'Turning 18... reporting to the state... forced marriage…' the words reverberate, sending a chill down my spine.
She keeps staring at me, her dark eyes piercing mine. The pressure is intense, but I keep my composure.
'Shit!' I curse silently. 'It's been a while since I've had to lie to a cop. Let's see if I still got it.'
I force a smile, trying to appear more confident than I actually am.
"Captain, I'm sure you know there are special conditions that allow someone to legally avoid Assignment," the words leave my mouth before I can think twice.
In response, the captain tilts her head, eyes still locked onto mine. For a moment, the silence is deafening. Then, she nods, a barely perceptible motion.
"You're right, Marcus. Since you're not flagged as a fugitive in our database, that means everything is in accordance with the law," Her voice is firm, but there's an unexpected softness in her words.
I breathe a mental sigh of relief, the weight on my shoulders easing a little. I seize the opportunity, adrenaline pumping through my veins, and decide to strike the iron while it's hot.
"So, since I'm a victim and not under investigation, I don't need to spill everything to you, right? Since that would be an unnecessary violation of my privacy?"
The captain raises an eyebrow, surprise crossing her face. But, to my luck, she nods again.
"Once again, you're right, Marcus," the captain responds, growling in frustration. "But you could cooperate and answer my questions too."
"If I wanted." I add smiling.
Internally, I celebrate the stroke of luck. The tension in the room eases, and the captain straightens up, her gaze still intense but less threatening.
The captain holds her firm gaze, her dark eyes drilling into mine. Her expression is serious, but there's a glimmer of curiosity there. She crosses her arms, her imposing posture filling the room.
"Marcus, do you have any idea why you're being questioned by me about your Assignment?" Her voice is firm, leaving no room for debate.
I shrug, trying to seem indifferent.
"No idea, captain," my voice comes out steady, but inside, my heart is racing.
The captain sighs, frustration evident on her face. She points to the door, the gesture abrupt.
"You're free to go, Marcus. You can leave."
I leave the room, the sound of the door closing behind me echoing through the empty hallway makes me relieved. The fluorescent light flickers above, casting intermittent shadows on the cold white walls. I take a few steps, my mind still processing the conversation. Then I stop, curiosity consuming me I murmur aloud:
"Why did she want to know about my Assignment?"
[Masha Medvetskaya]
My footsteps echo through the precinct hallway, each step a reminder of the time I spent in a place like this a long time ago.
"Inspetora Medvetskaya, what a surprise to see you here," the raspy voice of a lemming secretary catches my attention. "The captain will see you now."
"Thank you," I respond in a firm tone before continuing forward.
Walking down the corridor I notice every open door revealing a familiar scene of officers hunched over desks, papers scattered, phones ringing incessantly. The smell of old coffee and sweat hangs thick in the air. This was my life, before I left the precinct and became an Anthrostate inspector.
I stop before a closed door, the plaque 'Captain Shanika Jackson' making it clear I'm in the right place. I open the door and see Captain Shanika Jackson seated at her desk, piles of documents neatly organized around her. She lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting mine.
"Captain Shanika Jackson, I presume. I'm Inspector Masha Medvetskaya."
The captain stands and salutes, a respectful gesture acknowledging my position. Though I'm not part of the police 'hierarchy', Inspectors outrank any police officer.
"At ease, Captain," I inform the orca as I take a seat across from her.
"So… Inspector Medvetskaya," she says the name like she's testing how it feels in her mouth, her gaze wary. "How can I help you?"
Her tone is professional, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity. She knows my presence here isn't routine.
"I need information on a recent incident. That bank robbery with the hostages got some attention."
Shanika nods, her eyes returning to the documents on the desk.
"Yes, the capybara robbery. It was chaos, but we managed to resolve it with no civilian injuries."
"I heard. By the way, congratulations on a job well done, captain," I say in a direct tone. "I have a lot of respect for those who put themselves in the line of fire, especially against their own superior to save people."
Shanika frown irritated at me, but she accepts the compliment with a slight nod.
"But I'm not here to make small talk," I continue, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Let's get to the point."
The captain's eyes narrow and clench her fists, the suspicion and irritation evident on her face.
"Yes, please." Says the captain struggling to keep a formal and respectful tone to me. What's someone like you doing in my precinct? Shouldn't you be going after Anthros who maw, starve or drug their husbands?"
I look at her, puffing out my chest, showing that I won't be intimate with her angry mug. My voice drops to a deeper, more serious tone as I say:
"Captain, I'm being courteous by coming to speak with you directly instead of simply summoning you for questioning. Keep this conversation civil."
My eyes lock onto hers, a clear message that I'm not here to play games.
"So remember your place and don't ask unnecessary questions."
The captain straightens her posture, but remains undaunted, her eyes still fixed firmly on mine.
"Understood, Inspector," her response is short, direct.
I note that the captain does not fear me, but she also knows she's not in a position to argue.
"You said the incident was resolved without injuries. Tell me more about the hostages."
Captain Jackson pulls a folder from her desk, opening it to reveal photos and reports.
"All the hostages were released unharmed. In this folder you'll find the identities and transcripts of everyone who was questioned."
I take the folder with my large ursine paw, the weight of the document a clear indication of how detailed it is. I flip through the first few pages, each one packed with meticulously organized information.
'It'll take me days to read all this,' I think, frustrated.
I turn my gaze back to the captain while setting the folder aside.
"You did an impressive job here. But, I have to be honest, it would take too long to go through all this. Did any of the hostages catch your attention in any way?"
Captain Shanika Jackson gives me a big, cruel and triumphant smile that doesn't match the situation.
"Inspector, I personally analyzed and questioned each hostage. Nothing stood out, they all behaved as expected in a high-stress situation."
Her voice carries a tone of fake tenderness that irritates me even more.
"I can't say I noticed anything out of the ordinary," Captain concludes.
Her eyes gleam with genuine satisfaction and her smile is faker than a hyena's vow of chastity.
'She knows something' I think, frustrated.
Realizing I wouldn't get anything more out of this police orca, I slam the folder shut, the sound of the paper hitting the cover echoing through the room.
"You're lucky my time is more valuable than that of an old, frustrated, single orca," I say in a bitter, angry tone.
The captain narrows her eyes, but keeps her composure.
"If you need anything else, Inspector, you know where to find me," the captain says, staring intensely.
Without another word, I leave the room, the door slamming behind me. The police station hallway feels even more suffocating now, the smell of stale coffee and sweat more intense than before.
The secretary lemming watches as I pass by, her eyes wide with curiosity. I ignore her, my footsteps echoing down the hallway as I carry the heavy folder.
I open the station door and am greeted by the fresh air of the street. I pat down my brown overcoat, feeling the cigarette pack in the inner pocket. I pull one out, the lighter clicking satisfyingly as the flame ignites.
The first drag is deep, the smoke filling my lungs, relaxing my tense muscles.
"A needle in a haystack," I mutter, the frustration clear in my voice. "That's what I'm looking for."
The smoke leaves my mouth, dissipating into the air. The street is busy with cars passing, people hurrying along. But it's all just background noise; my mind is focused on the task ahead.
The folder in my hands contains a mountain of information, each page a possible path to the truth. But the truth I seek is elusive, hidden between lines of reports and testimonies.
"I need to find something concrete," I think, the determination growing inside me. "Something that'll make that cold monster calm down."
[Marcus Carvalho]
My vision begins to clear, the characteristic orange hue of teleportation fading away. The world around me sharpens into focus, and I find myself in the middle of Edith's living room.
"Home sweet home," I whisper happily.
A smile spreads across my face. Despite the crazy situation at the bank, now I've got money in my pocket.
"Finally, I can buy what I need," I comment, thinking about the future.
The excitement is so strong I don't even remember why I had rushed out to the bank in the first place… at least not until I hear Edith clearing her throat:
"Ahem!"
"O porra!" I blurp cursing in portuguese.
I turn to the left and there they are, Edith and Yami Kage, sitting at the table with a steaming kettle between them. Edith is glaring at me, pure irritation in her eyes. Yami Kage, on the other hand, is slack-jawed, her eyes wide in astonishment.
"Would you believe me if I said I was buying cigarettes?" I say with a sheepish grin.
"So you weren't held hostage in a bank robbery?" Edith asks, her voice trembling with anger. "You vanish without a word and then just show up out of nowhere like this with your magic?"
Still wide-eyed, the tigress mutters:
"Was that m-magic?"
Edith ignores Carlie, her eyes locked onto mine.
"I was worried!" she explodes. "I thought you had abandoned me. You can't just disappear like that!"
I open my mouth to reply, but Yami Kage suddenly stands up, her chair scraping against the floor.
"That was magic!" she repeats, her voice full of awe and fear. "How?"
Edith huffs, clearly not sharing the tigress' enthusiasm.
"You know what..." Edith growls impatiently. "I don't have the time or patience for this."
Edith stands abruptly, her chair screeching on the floor. She grabs her backpack, her face red with anger.
"Where are you going?" I ask, surprised by her reaction.
"Work, Marcus," she replies, her voice sharp. "See how easy it is to say where you're going."
Before I can say anything else, she storms out, slamming the door behind her. The silence that follows is deafening.
"Do you remember me?" the tigress asks, unable to meet my eyes.
I turn to the right, remembering I'm not alone.
"Yes," I reply, making her smile. "You're the fighter with the weeb name."
"It's not an weeb name," the tigress replies, indignantly stomping her foot.