《Arbitrary Choices》


 Update 1

    A crystal-like chime rang throughout the cluttered, open Living Room; decorated with newspapers, vinyl records, and a smashed television screen. Banging on the nearby door was followed by a loud crash of the breaking bottle which had been gently tapping against the exposed floor causing the earlier chime.


    ¡°Ezekiel you better not be dead yet, you¡¯ve got shit to do!¡± called a masculine, yet feminine voice. It was clearly a woman who was smashing her fist into the white wooden door.


    Rustling of a jagged, scrawny, long-haired man ensued as he attempted to part himself from the couch; clearly experiencing a severe hangover. ¡°I¡¯m coming, Lucy, calm down...¡± He mumbled, placing his hand against the glass covered floor, letting a slight wince or hiss of pain escape through his teeth.


    Lucy tapped her foot, just barely missing the door frame which was peeling away from itself. ¡°He really needs to get this place renovated...¡± She whispered to herself just before the door cracked open to face Ezekiel, who seemed to barely be on his feet. ¡°God, you look terrible. You need to start taking care of yourself.¡± She sighed, crossing her arms, and pushing her way into the apartment. ¡°I can really tell why you¡¯ve never invited me over, this place is a mess, and you¡¯ve got four of the same record.¡± Lucy blinked with pure confusion and slight concern.


    ¡°Four is my favourite number.¡± Ezekiel stated, blunter than the razor he uses to shave his face. His words were out of place for the conversation and quite abrupt, but that was simply his way of speech. Ezekiel was never one to follow social cues, he merely gave honesty.


    Ezekiel stumbled toward the kitchen; the hinges on the frame lacking a door, it seemed to have been broken off and replaced with beads, ribbon, and tinsel.


    ¡°How¡¯s your wife.¡± Ezekiel questioned, not a bit of intonation shown as he started the partially taped together coffee machine, leaning forward on the surprisingly nice hardwood counter. The apartment itself belonged to a well-kept apartment complex; it was merely Ezekiel who couldn¡¯t keep his together.


    ¡°She¡¯s- doing well.¡± Lucy coughed slightly, finding it almost difficult to breathe in the smoke-filled, alcohol-stained apartment. ¡°But you know she¡¯d be better if you could show up to work on time.¡± She huffed, still standing, scared to sit down on the couch in fear she¡¯d be poisoned by it.


    ¡°I know. I''ve got the paperwork in my room; I''ll get it in a second...¡± Ezekiel mumbled, placing his head against the cold counter while the coffee machine whirred and sputtered espresso.


    ¡°Ezekiel, you¡¯re a good man and all, but you won''t be able to help people if you end up six feet under.¡± The statement seemed out of place, something Lucy wouldn¡¯t traditionally say, but she wanted to express her concern whether it fit the conversation¡¯s guidelines or not.


    It''s true, Ezekiel was fairly skilled at his job, he was eccentric and thought through every move a person could make, but he certainly struggled with maintaining his own health.


    ¡°The keys are in the table. You can get the paper yourself, I''ll just- stand here for a moment.¡± Ezekiel muttered almost under his breath, just barely loud enough for Lucy to hear. It seemed he was ignoring her statement all together.


    ¡°Who locks their bedroom...¡± She groaned, clearly annoyed with his ignorance, but nonetheless she needed that paperwork, it was a crucial part of the ongoing case and Ezekiel was the only one with a copy; mainly because he refused to share it with anybody, for unknown reasons.


    Lucy began rummaging through the drawers of Ezekiel¡¯s coffee table, one of which seemed to be used solely as an ashtray, to be honest Lucy found it both innovative and disgusting all at once.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.The keys were eventually uncovered, the farthest drawer to the right; it was organised neatly with sticky notes above each key stating where they led to, it was so out of character for Ezekiel she was sure somebody else had to have done it, but then again nobody else messed up their ¡®G¡¯s¡¯ and ¡®D¡¯s¡¯ like Ezekiel does, which meant the writing had to be his.


    Avoiding shards of glass and random tuffs of pillow stuffing; Lucy made it toward Ezekiel¡¯s bedroom door, inserting the key into the lock and cautiously opening it. God knows what he keeps in there, she had her rights to be suspicious.


    light flooded into the room, illuminating cork boards covered in red string and paper barely hanging on to thumb tacks pressed into the walls, his bed and the floor were covered in papers that seemed to be organised by the colour of the document seal, orange in the top left corner, purple in the right, his bed covered in hand written notes that didn¡¯t belong to any station. Lucy seemed scared to step on the paper, but obviously she had to, how else was she meant to retrieve the notes she came for.


    Atop the mound of papers resting on Ezekiel¡¯s sheetless bed was exactly the piece of paper Lucy had been looking for; The top of the first page marked with a green sticky note which was perfectly aligned with the three staples running down the side of the sheets. It stated the person¡¯s record and case name as well as the victim''s assumed time of death ¡®Valery North, case 17, 13:59¡¯. Exactly what Lucy was looking for.


    ¡°Ezekiel, is this all?¡± She questioned, unable to tell if there were more papers Ezekiel was simply hiding.


    After standing around in the room flooded with the pure lack of sound, she grew tired of being able to taste every brand of cigarette Ezekiel had laid his hands on and began to leave. The papers crunched and crackled beneath her feet while she made her way to the kitchen, debating if she were to let Ezekiel show up even later or if she were to drag him to work.


    To her surprise, when she left the bedroom, she was met with the ever so perplexing sight of Ezekiel with his hair pushed back, picking up loose bottles around the room.


    He looked up for a moment, more hunched over than usual in an attempt to reach the scattered piles of bottles in several different colours, most of which were brown. ¡°Mind drivin¡¯ me to the recycling plant before we go to the station?¡± He rubbed his eyes in the midst of his inquiry.


    ¡°So, you aren¡¯t cleaning, you¡¯re gonna¡¯ sell them, aren¡¯t you? You better not buy more booze with that money.¡± Lucy grumbled, crossing her arms once more, shifting her weight to the left side of her hip, preparing herself to scold the mess of a man that stood in front of her.


    ¡°I was gonna get you a wedding gift...¡± He blinked, he wasn¡¯t able to make it to the wedding between Lucy and her wife which took place about a week previous to the current day, he¡¯d been struggling to think of what to get her, anything he¡¯d been drinking was left over alcohol from the back of his cabinet he didn¡¯t quite like the taste of, but was too lazy to throw out. He had been trying to save every bit of leftover cash he had.


    ¡°Really...? Ezekiel, you don¡¯t need to do that.¡± Lucy couldn¡¯t help but smile a bit, she felt bad for always yelling at him, but it was simply because she cared about him. ¡°Really, let''s just head to work and maybe we can get a drink together, Miriam shouldn¡¯t be mad at me for going out with somebody I''ve known for so long.¡±


    Ezekiel stood up right, or at least as upright as he could with his fractured spine. He''s still pissed off at himself for not going back to the hospital to get it fixed, but that was twenty years ago, he was stupid and naive, and most importantly, he was afraid of hospitals.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t drive, I''ll take you to work with me.¡± Lucy ever so slightly laughed, giving Ezekiel a quick thumbs up, it seemed like some sort of inside joke or a strange supportive gesture, either way Ezekiel couldn''t help but roll his eyes in response to hide the split second of joy he¡¯d experienced from Lucy¡¯s support.

 Update 2

    ¡°Gimme¡¯ a moment here.¡± Ezekiel spoke in between the snapping of his limbs while he stretched. ¡°God that hurts,¡± His eyes shuttered, and his hand reached for his wallet which was precariously balanced on the edge of the table.


    Outside the building, country music could be heard blaring from a navy-blue truck covered in decals of every sort. ¡°Get in!¡± Lucy yowled from inside the truck, attempting to be heard over the music; She pressed her hand to the door handle, unlocking the door and kicking it open.


    Ezekiel grabbed hold of the handle on the vehicle''s interior, pulling himself up into the passenger seat, taking a solid minute before deciding to put his seat belt on. ¡°Let me guess, Arnold is gonna rip me a new one when we get there.¡± Ezekiel sighed, running his hand across his face.


    ¡°We both know his name is Arnez, Ezekiel.¡± Lucy spoke both jokingly and with a serious tone, she knew Ezekiel didn¡¯t like Arnez because he was younger than Ezekiel, and overall, more appreciated by the station.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less what his name is, the bastard...¡± Ezekiel whispered the last couple words in his sentence, rustling around his pocket for a packet of cigarettes, a mere two left inside.


    Before he could even pull out his extremely tacky but also extremely expensive engraved lighter, which he stole from his mother; he was interrupted by Lucy demanding he not smoke in her Truck, because Miriam would kill her for it.


    ¡°Cmon what¡¯s a lil¡¯ tar and tobacco gonna do, summon the devil?¡± Ezekiel snickered in response, crossing his legs and tapping the single unlit cigarette between his fingers, his left arm crossed over his abdomen and clutching the right side of his vest.


    ¡°You out of all people shouldn¡¯t be talking like that.¡± Lucy squinted, grasping the obvious cross dangling from Ezekiel¡¯s pocket, looking him dead in the eyes as she did so in an attempt to prove her point.


    ¡°Oh, piss off, we both know god isn¡¯t real.¡± Ezekiel groaned, tilting his head to the side, continuing to tap and turn the cigarette that rested between his fingertips.


    ¡°Look, if you¡¯re gonna smoke, wait ¡®till we get to the station.¡± Lucy extended her arm for a handshake of agreement, hoping Ezekiel wouldn¡¯t go ahead and light it anyway. She didn¡¯t want to make Ezekiel feel bad by telling him *why* he couldn¡¯t smoke in her truck anymore.


    Ezekiel rolled his eyes, accepting Lucy¡¯s handshake in a somewhat crooked manner. ¡°Alright, but I want at least a ten-minute smoke break when we get there.¡± He announced, most likely louder than he ever has, glancing out the window at the sidewalk while Lucy pressed her boots to the pedal.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think ten minutes is a little long for a smoke break...?¡± She sighed in response, Lucy understood addiction was difficult, but a ten-minute break the moment they arrived at work just seemed like too much to her.


    ¡°No, I really don''t.¡± Ezekiel was blunt and genuine in his answer, he had taken hour-long breaks from work before just to sit outside and smoke, it was difficult to tell if he even worked at this point.


    The truck was stagnant and silent while they continued their drive downtown, stopping at the occasional red light. though the silence didn¡¯t remain for long, as it was broken about 20 minutes into the drive when Ezekiel rolled down his window to whistle at a random man passing by.


    ¡°Ezekiel!¡± Lucy sneered, gritting her teeth at the detective¡¯s clear indecency; she¡¯d never stood for catcalling of any kind and was honestly more than disgusted by it.


    ¡°Cmon Lucy you¡¯re a married woman, of course you wouldn¡¯t get it!¡± Ezekiel snickered, resting his elbow on the windowsill grinning at Lucy, he¡¯d gained far more life and energy since earlier that morning, and Lucy wasn¡¯t having it; beginning to roll up the window with Ezekiel¡¯s arm still resting on it.


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    ¡°I hated you doing that before I even had a girlfriend.¡± Lucy rolled her eyes, ignoring Ezekiel hastily trying to roll the window back down as his shirt had gotten caught in it.


    ¡°Lucy, roll the window down!¡± Ezekiel seemed to demand, yet his tone was still too light and blunt to be considered aggressive and demanding; his words were rushed and staggered, including a voice crack more than occasionally.


    ¡°I just think it''s disgusting, really.¡± She continued her tangent, firmly expressing both her support and lack of support for certain things Ezekiel does.


    ¡°Lucy, roll the window down!¡± Ezekiel repeated once more, a sharp jolt of never-before-seen intonation filling his speech with annoyance while he struggled to get his sleeve out of the now completely rolled up window.


    The window began to slowly reverse its course, rolling down just enough for Ezekiel to pull his sleeve from its clutch. ¡°Next time it¡¯ll be your head.¡± Lucy joked; she always had a sense of inexpertly timed humour, which paired rather poorly with her sense of justice.


    ¡°I think it was closer to my fingers.¡± Ezekiel huffed, not even bothering to fix the cuff of his sleeve which was now severely wrinkled and more than out of place; the orange stripes no longer straight against the yellow fabric. ¡°Could be worse.¡± he spoke, his shoulder shifting when the truck began to move once more; the light turning from red to green, followed by Lucy pressing the gas pedal to the ground, taking off from the light as if she wasn¡¯t doing 50 in a 30.


    Ezekiel shifted side to side in his seat, rummaging through his pocket for a moment; after years of drinking, the alcohol had certainly affected his memory, or so he assumed it was the alcohol. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure, but he knew he couldn¡¯t remember if he had brought either a pack of cigarettes or a lighter.


    ¡°For the last time I told you not to smoke in the truck.¡± Lucy¡¯s gaze sharpened toward the road, she couldn¡¯t see Ezekiel directly, but she did have more than excellent peripheral vision, not to mention even if her eye were closed the random pages, keys and unused wallet chains rustling and clanging against each other in Ezekiel¡¯s pocket could alert an army of deaf soldiers from seventy kilometres away.


    ¡°Relax I get it; I''m just checkin¡¯ to make sure they¡¯re still there.¡± Ezekiel coughed up his words; his ears ringing after doing so to the point it covered the sound of the blazing air conditioner and the blaring music.


    The truck came to a violent stop when Lucy made it to the front of the station; her decal covered, music blasting, diesel scented truck stood out more than a tad against the average blue, black and white police cars and cruisers parked outside and next to the station.


    The driver-side door viciously swung open, it¡¯s surprising she hasn¡¯t thrown it off its hinges yet; her music was still blaring, the concrete shaking speakers running off her phone which was adorned with a handmade engraved wood phone case her wife had made for her to propose, as she couldn¡¯t afford a ring at the time, even if she did Lucy was never one to wear jewellery, that was more Ezekiel¡¯s thing.


    ¡°Jesus Christ, Lucy you¡¯re lucky you¡¯re a cop or you¡¯d have enough speeding tickets to make a quilt by now...¡± Ezekiel groaned, sitting down on the running boards the truck had bolted to its sides. He preferred to sit down and raise himself to the ground as opposed to Lucy simply jumping out of the raised vehicle, though no matter how gentle the landing was Ezekiel still stumbled to his feet.


    ¡°Lucy, you¡¯re here!¡± Called a gentle, trustworthy voice; face plastered with a smile, a notebook held in his left arm pressed against his chest causing wrinkles to form in his uniform, and a mug in his right hand, one could assume it was coffee, Afterall he¡¯s not Ezekiel, nobody but a lonely 48 year old man puts booze in their mug at 9:52 AM.

 Update 3

    ¡°And Ezekiel!¡± The man called once more, his smile shifting to a more annoyed and or cynical expression. ¡°You¡¯re late. Again!¡± He laughed, his hand moving outward in gesture, spilling a drop or two of his coffee on the black, paved ground.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ Good mornin¡¯ to you too, sunshine.¡± Ezekiel murmured, the spark of his lighter could be heard in between his words. ¡°Dastardly thing¡­¡± He mumbled to himself through his liquor stained teeth which were clamped shut on a slightly bent cigarette, one of two he had left; the lighter was emitting a strong scent of lighter fluid through the saturated cotton that sat within it.


    ¡°Do you really need to kill your lungs on my time?¡± Arnez scoffed, tucking his notebook underneath his armpit and running his fingers down his nose bridge in annoyance. He placed his mug on the roof of Lucy¡¯s truck for a moment to use his own lighter for Ezekiel¡¯s noble cause, even if the noble cause leads to hospitalisation and black mould. ¡°I hate the smell of that thing.¡± Arnez rolled his eyes with his statement, he specifically didn¡¯t like the smell of the burning cotton wick and preferred a more up to date lighter.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the smell of your bougie shampoo and yet you seem to use it a lot.¡± Ezekiel retorted, pushing Arnez away physically once he had lit the cigarette being grasped by Ezekiel¡¯s anterior teeth; The dishevelled middle-aged detective tucked his lighter away, grinning for a moment before deciding to stretch, his left arm going over his head to grasp his right; each of his bones clicked in a different place before he ultimately pushed Arnez¡¯s perfectly white, bleached mug off the dusty, mud covered rooftop. ¡°Oh, yikes, what¡¯ll that cost to replace, two-hundred? Four-hundred? I know you like shit expensive. Your sugar daddy buy that for you?¡± Ezekiel snickered.


    ¡°A sugar daddy is better than no daddy now isn¡¯t it, Ezekiel. Where¡¯s yours?¡± Arnez smirked in return, his tone was snarky and heavily directed at Ezekiel¡¯s soft spot; he knew exactly what he was doing.


    The air stood lifeless for a moment before Ezekiel scoffed; his spindly middle and index finger raising to his mouth revealing his two singular painted nails, one being his pinky and the other being his index, one was blue and the other black. His fingers pinched closed on the tobacco filled paper roll he had pressed to his lower lip. ¡°You got me this time.¡± He exhaled, blowing smoke directly into Arnez¡¯s face before leaving to enter the station.


    Ezekiel¡¯s boots stomped against the concrete, they were falling apart and he had to seal them with bathroom tile calk a couple times too many, but they were reliable and he refused to dispose of them.


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    ¡°Lucy, are there any of those ¡­ the birthday cake ones¡­¡± Ezekiel spoke indistinctly, Lucy would obviously know what he had been thinking of, but to His surprise he was not met by Lucy in the break room; instead he was met by a younger detective who had been working at the station on a specific case for about a week now.


    ¡°You¡¯re really still here.¡± Ezekiel coughed, running his hand down his face, his nails catching on his eyebrow for a moment before forming a fist with his hand and using it to rub the sleep out of his eyes. ¡°Carlo, right¡­?¡± Ezekiel questioned, checking the palm of his hand to see if his mascara had smeared; entirely forgetting he wasn¡¯t even wearing mascara.


    ¡°Yes, but not exactly-. it''s Corlo.¡± The much younger detective adjusted his glasses for a moment, then reached his hand out supposedly for a handshake. ¡°And you must be Ezekiel! I''m gonna be completely honest, they just told me you¡¯d appear the classic depiction of a sad, middle aged man.¡±


    Ezekiel merely stared at him for a moment, running his fingers through the ends of his hair before commenting on the man¡¯s strange hand posture. ¡°Y¡¯know it''s oddly normalised to use your right hand for a hand shake, to the point even if you were just using your left hand to manoeuvre the coffee pot you¡¯d resort to it. who says you can''t wield arms with your left hand anyway.¡± Ezekiel grinned, his head facing the ground but his eyes looking upward toward Corlo, holding out his left hand just to mess with him, the entire bit was just to make him uncomfortable or off put.


    Just before their hands could collide Ezekiel tapped out, Holding his hand behind his neck with a crack and turning back to the counter, placing his arms down to get a closer look at the box he¡¯d earlier been dissecting, trying his absolute best to find anything actually flavourful within it.


    Corlo¡¯s gaze twisted while he stared blankly at Ezekiel, who stood hunched over the counter, his elbows digging into the linoleum while he picked at the box of small spherical donuts. ¡°Only three are you joking¡­ Who in their right mind order¡¯s plain anyway?¡± Ezekiel Yelled, demanding answers on what idiot was put in charge of the coffee order for today, and obviously, as always; Arnez pushed his way through the doorway, ever so politely excusing himself from being in Corlo¡¯s way and making his way to the box.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you love plain donuts?¡± Arnez smiled, taking around two or three for himself and leaning backward against the counter, making near direct eye contact with Ezekiel so he knew this was all just to spite him.

 Update 4

    ¡°Plain isn¡¯t even a flavour, they taste like the staff dropped them and rinsed them in somebody¡¯s coffee.¡± Ezekiel complained, he had a firm opinion on this topic and it wasn¡¯t going to change any time soon, he knew what he liked and he knew what he didn¡¯t, 48 years on this earth didn¡¯t just earn him the addiction badge.


    ¡°Oh no, detective, do you not like plain? My deepest condolences, I truly thought you did.¡± Arnez pouted, clearly mocking Ezekiel¡¯s disgust for unflavoured fried dough as he leaned further back into the counter, his hair now resting on the nearby microwave.


    Corlo steadily shifted his weight from one foot to the other, creeping away from the door frame and back toward the black and silver coffee machine he had previously been standing at. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they let couples work together¡­¡± He seemed genuine when he spoke as if he truly believed the two were together, even if they were nothing more than rivals.


    Ezekiel simply gagged in response, he found the idea of being with Arnez disgusting, and he knew somehow, some way, if they were together Arnez would find a way to get him arrested, whether it be for Ezekiel¡¯s neglect of his apartment or his frequent drinking before driving.


    ¡°Seriously? He eats cigarette butts, why would I ever put my lips to that.¡± Arnez retorted, fixing his braid before giving quite the aggressive side-eye to Ezekiel; later shifting to a more welcoming smile when he faced Corlo. ¡°Well, I have work to do.¡± He waved, leaving for his office of whence he came, once again fixing his attire when he crossed the threshold of the doorway.


    ¡°For the last time, I don¡¯t eat them!¡± Ezekiel¡¯s voice rasped toward the antagonising officer, his hands shook when he made an attempt to point at Arnez; his stance was wide to keep his balance before giving up and leaning against the counter once more.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Lucy when you need ¡®er.¡± Ezekiel moaned, his left hand pressed flat against the counter¡¯s edge while he stared off at the wall, listening to the brief snippets of conversations he could hear from the lobby.


    Ezekiel began to move his bow-legged lower limbs, swaying from side to side with every step before being blasted by a sudden, pure cacophony of obnoxiously up beat music which drowned out the nearby conversations; the music was coming from Arnez¡¯s office, of course it was.


    Ezekiel held more than a grudge against Arnez for several reasons, he was overbearingly sweet and bubbly, he took Ezekiel¡¯s office which hid many items he certainly shouldn¡¯t have had his hands on; he fears every day that Arnez might find something and hand it in, Ezekiel couldn¡¯t handle being arrested again.


    He shivered, continuing on towards his office, taking a hard left making his way down a long, brightly lit hallway; the sound of aggressively happy music still attacking his ear drums. Ezekiel always stood by ¡®music is subjective¡¯ but so is taste in people, and Arnez was not to his liking.


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    ¡°Finally¡­¡± He murmured to himself, his office was freshly tidied, he hated it. Ezekiel¡¯s office was always messy but he knew where everything was and he liked it that way, with his office clean and tidy he couldn¡¯t think straight, somebody replaced the light bulbs he had taken out too; sure he removed the light bulbs without permission but it was the only way to stop people from turning the lights on in his office.


    The interior of the room usually looked like it belonged to a grunge aesthetic teen. The windows were covered with pattern blankets, the light above his desk covered by a comically large mosaic scarf; the whole room was usually lit by one dull, dusty, warm nougat tinted lamp, but that was all gone. Somebody had stripped the room of its character,somebody had put all of Ezekiel¡¯s belongings in a little box, with a note.


    ¡®It has come to our attention that the decor used in the office of Ezekiel .R. Martin, could possibly be a fire hazard, if you could speak to him about it that would be most appreciated.¡¯ The ¡®from¡¯ portion of the note which clearly stated the name of the station higher-ups was scribbled out and replaced with a cocky note left by Arnez, stating Ezekiel was late so he went ahead and removed everything without talking to Ezekiel first.


    ¡°That little rat¡­¡± Ezekiel mumbled, slamming his poorly patched up boot into the corner of his desk, it was already covered in dents, scratches and burns. Ezekiel had a habit of abusing his poor furniture.


    One of the only things still in place was a collection of paper¡¯s Ezekiel had stapled together in his signature fashion, three staples perfectly aligned down the side, exactly an inch and a quarter away from the corners and 2 inches away from each other.


    The paper was adorned with splotchy ink from an Olympia SM 9 typewriter, Ezekiel simply couldn¡¯t get enough of using older equipment, it felt nice to hear the click of the raised circular buttons and the gentle ring of the machine when a line was complete, He also weirdly enjoyed the scent of the ink, it overpowered the constant scent of smoke and liquor on his clothing and in his hair.


    ¡°This place is a wreck.¡± He spoke, addressing the state of the room once more before placing his hand on the collection of papers, they were wreaking of ink and a strangely reminiscent perfume, he thought he¡¯d smelt it somewhere but it was dissipating too fast to pinpoint.


    He threw himself into a wobbling wooden chair that sat just behind his desk, it was oddly enough the only thing in the room that remained untouched, still being held up by a ripped, half shredded copy of a study in scarlet, seemed he¡¯d been ripping the pages out and using them for a collection of writing pieces, poetry, and a few times just scattering words around his desk, nobody really understood why he did it and he didn¡¯t exactly understand it either; Ezekiel was merely drawn to the idea of using existing literature to make something new.


    Atop the poorly supported chair were a multitude of old blankets, scarves and pillows, you could barely tell the chair was wooden if it weren¡¯t for the legs poking out beneath the quilts and fabric.

 Update 5

    Ezekiel¡¯s boots hit the desk, leaning back into the creaking, highschool workshop quality chair, skimming over information to retain only what he found important to the case. ¡°How does one simply lose a leg and nothing more¡­ and why dispose of it¡­¡± Ezekiel groaned, he didn¡¯t exactly believe the woman they were looking for was dead, there was no body, just a singular limb; they had decided she was dead as it had been a month since she went missing, and why else would appendages surface if the person wasn¡¯t gone. Ezekiel wasn¡¯t even close to a fan of this theory, he believed there was more to this than a classic homicide, but it may also just be his thirst for something interesting, things had been slow lately, he craved something to entertain him.


    ¡°Ezekiel, where did you go?¡± Lucy spoke in a raised tone, not wanting to yell as it would disrupt others who were on the job, but then again Ezekiel¡¯s hearing was more shot than his spinal cord and Lucy had to yell a tad if she wanted him to hear her.


    ¡°In here, Lucy.¡± Ezekiel yawned, slapping the stack of papers back on the table before placing his feet on the ground, his elbows hitting the wooden surface of the Hawthorne collection desk, hands gripping his head before leaning back once more to look at the red headed, now uniformed woman, her hair no longer free, contained in a more than restricting bun, and her jean jacket replaced with navy tinted attire and a badge so lacklustre it could fail to warm up a crowd enough times they¡¯d laugh out of pity.


    ¡°Yikes, what happened to your office?¡± Lucy slowly sauntered into the freshly cleaned, or in Ezekiel¡¯s case, freshly ruined room, now lacking any bit of personality it had; it seems Lucy was carrying a tray of beverages with her, and alongside it a small paper bag, most likely lunch of some kind.


    ¡°That pretentious bastard got to it.¡± Ezekiel¡¯s arms folded over one another while he watched Lucy place the tray down on his desk, pulling out a coffee with his name and order scribbled across the top of the lid in smudged charcoal pencil; ¡®Four milk, two sugar.¡¯ the cup was supposed to state, but the letters resembled more of a poorly drawn house and a ¡®z¡¯.


    Lucy ever so slightly snickered at the idea that Arnez entirely packed up Ezekiel¡¯s belongings just to spite him. ¡°Have any luck with the case?¡± She inquired, putting the drama between Ezekiel and Arnez behind them for a moment; Ezekiel grumbled at the question, he had gotten absolutely nowhere, there was no evidence, and no highlights, there was absolutely nothing to pick out or take away.


    ¡°Dead end, there¡¯s nothing to work with here, I need better documents.¡± He was certainly not fond of being asked about his progress, especially when he¡¯s gotten nowhere.


    ¡°Ezekiel, you wrote your own documents.¡± Lucy couldn¡¯t tell if he was joking about needing better documentation, considering he wrote them himself. It was extremely difficult to tell due to his monotonous voice.


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    ¡°Exactly how you know they¡¯re good, and yet there¡¯s still nothing.¡± The detective spoke, ruffling his already tousled hair. The case of Valery North had sent him down rabbit holes that led to nowhere, and none of them entertained him the way he wanted them to. Ezekiel craved a plot to his shitilly written mystery novel of a life, this case felt as if it was conjured within the mind of a daydreaming ex weird kid, now turned weird teen with nothing better to do with their free time.


    ¡°So what do you need?¡± Lucy stared at Ezekiel¡¯s bland expression, she didn¡¯t know whether to feel bad or, feel null. Ezekiel was usually overly cocky about cases he solved or was going to solve, it was refreshing to see him struggle, but also it was a bit sad to see a full grown man grip his hair as if he were going to fall over and cry at any moment; though, perhaps that was just how Ezekiel always looked.


    ¡°I think I need a raise and a bottle of Fireball¡­¡± Ezekiel glanced up at Lucy for a moment, shifting his hand toward the coffee she¡¯d purchased for him, followed by a more than exaggeratedly long sip; tapping his left foot against the base of his desk.


    ¡°Y¡¯know I was hoping that would last you more than four minutes.¡±  Lucy ever so slightly joked, her quip directed at Ezekiel chugging his coffee, completely ignoring his request for extra income, she would have made a comment about how he¡¯d have extra cash if he were to stop spending it all on liquor, but she also knew it was something he struggled with, and something he wouldn¡¯t stop no matter how many times she asked him to.


    ¡°It''s just, it¡¯s stupid. If I''m being honest this entire case is stupid.¡± Ezekiel set his coffee down surprisingly gently, just a millimetre off from the thick ring engraved in the desk¡¯s surface by previous beverages.


    Ezekiel crossed his legs over one another, he looked around his bland, bright office, it would take him hours to re-decorate. ¡°God, this place makes my head hurt now¡­¡± He had pure disgust for the light flooding in and wrapping itself around him, forming shadows he didn¡¯t want to see.


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®the case is stupid¡¯.¡± Lucy tapped her fingers from right to left on the solid mahogany desk top, her left thumb hooked on her belt loop, squinting to block out the sun that shone directly into her irises.


    ¡°I mean it''s pointless, there¡¯s no way in hell we¡¯re getting any leads on this, for all we know this is some sick elaborate joke by a bored psychopath.¡± Ezekiel was clearly lost in his own thought, and words. He was staring off into the hall, or perhaps at the wall. He hadn¡¯t a clue of what to do, or what to tell Lucy, he didn¡¯t believe Valery was dead but he also didn¡¯t believe she was alive, it was as if he was purposefully tricking himself into carrying out a case structured on nothing, he had no hope,  but he did have police resources, government funding, and nothing better to do.

 update 6

    ¡°I think it would be more worrying if there were a psychopath with limbs lying around, prancing about the streets.¡± Lucy retorted, almost annoyed that Ezekiel was giving up like this, he¡¯d been to several crime scenes in the last month, a few entirely unrelated in hopes they might link up, and yet there¡¯s nothing, or he refuses to work with what he has.


    ¡°Whatever.¡± Ezekiel¡¯s dreary voice echoed, he was entirely overstimulated by the vibrancy of his office at the time, and the overall situation. ¡°You should get back to your own work, Lucy, and if you''re done, go home, your wife probably wants you there.¡± He turned and placed his hand on the documents once more, leaning back and throwing his feet onto the desk once more, as if he were dismissing Lucy.


    His foot hit his coffee, the beverage dripping off the desk, if he was being honest, he found the sound delightful. Ezekiel was in no way put off by the sound of dripping water, or leaking faucets, in fact he rathered having background noise, as long as it wasnt a person he was fine with it. He had no plans of cleaning up the spill, and began working again, ignoring any complaints Lucy had to offer him.


    Before he knew it, the sun was just below the horizon, the light in the room was completely gone, he¡¯d been left in perfect darkness, not that he¡¯d know. Ezekiel¡¯s face was stuffed into his knees, he was fast asleep, so still and silent he appeared to be deceased.


    Ezekiel was suddenly shocked awake when a stress ball bludgeoned him, his hair flying to the side followed by the sound of the stress ball sticking to the window and Ezekiel hitting the ground soon after. ¡°Auwgh-¡± Ezekiel hissed, clenching his head to his knee once more before sprawling out and looking up.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to wake you up for an hour!¡± It was Arnez, of course it was, who else would have stayed behind just to throw things at Ezekiel once they were off the clock.


    ¡°Good god, you sure that wasn¡¯t a rock¡­¡± Ezekiel ran his hand along the back of his head, clenching his messy, grey streaked, black hair. He pulled his legs inward, hunching over them before stumbling to his feet and squinting at Arnez who was in full outdoor attire, coat, boots, scarf and all.


    ¡°Guess I''m just too strong for a scrawny rat like you to handle.¡± Arnez snickered, adjusting his scarf, it seemed he was always adjusting his clothes by the tiniest tad. He soon tapped his boots, looking around Ezekiel¡¯s office for a moment, proud with his prior work.


    ¡°I think your ego is too strong for me to handle¡­¡± Ezekiel was still trying to get a grip on himself after being so abruptly woken up, his words were dull and blunt as always, it was like his burning hatred for his blonde, overzealous coworker was suppressed by his tired, half asleep state.


    ¡°You¡¯re mixing up your words again, Ez, you should get a hang of that. I think you meant charisma.¡± Arnez smirked in return; Ezekiel was beginning to wonder if he did anything around here other than give him a headache and steal his documents as a ¡®friendly joke¡¯. ¡°Anyways, as much as i¡¯d like to stick around i¡¯ve got places to be and you¡¯ve got a house to clean, that is if you know how to clean.¡± Arnez flickered Ezekiel¡¯s office light on and off before disappearing into the dark hallway.


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    Ezekiel, disoriented and confused, ran his hand along his desk, feeling for the documents he had previously placed there; his gaze sharpened as it turned toward the apparently empty desktop, the documents were gone.


    Ezekiel assumed Arnez or Lucy took the documents, even if there was no real reason for them to need them, why else would a stack of papers go entirely missing.


    Ezekiel shrugged off the issue, his spindly fingers reaching out towards the tall wooden coat rack in the corner, Ezekiel had entirely forgotten he didn¡¯t bring a coat. He groaned and shuffled out the door, leaving the front doors of the station unlocked.


    The wind howled, blowing leaves across the road just for them to be struck by speeding vehicles, crushed before being able to become something more, like fertiliser for a life saving plant.


    Ezekiel¡¯s breath was caught in his vest, his face pressed into his clothing to avoid the cold; the obnoxious neon signs of the district flashed in his eyes before Ezekiel took a sharp corner down a poorly lit alley, the only illumination available was glaring pink and yellow lights from inside a nearby club.


    ¡°824, saint¡¯s BLVD¡­isn¡¯t that ironic.¡± Ezekiel huffed, gripping the inside of his pockets while staring at the entrance to the building, music could be heard seeping out from underneath the door.


    The stage at the club tonight was meant to be accompanied by a punk band, one of which Valery North was fairly fond of, she had visited the location on the night of her disappearance and the band was only now coming back to town, Ezekiel felt like confronting them before heading home.


    The door handle clicked, the knob turning and the door opening just enough for Ezekiel to squeeze through the doorway and not draw attention to himself. Atop the stage there were 3 people, a singer, a drummer, and a guitarist, Ezekiel had done no further research on the band aside from when they¡¯d be performing, he didn¡¯t know their names, ages, or any important info, the entire band was a blank slate to him.


    ¡°Could the speakers be any louder¡­¡± He whispered to himself, the drummer slamming their foot on the kick the exact moment Ezekiel muttered his complaint.


    He swerved through the crowd, looking for a backstage entrance or any way to get closer to the band so he could discuss the issue at hand with the group.


    Things were being thrown at the stage, flowers and flags, letters, Etc.


    The drummer stood, the music cutting for a moment to give them room to speak.


    They placed their left hand on their hips which were exposed by low cut pants and a weirdly cut V-neck body suit covered by a cropped leather jacket adorned with chains and patches. ¡°Alright who threw it!¡± They Tapped their foot, screaming across the club and bar with a thick northern canadian accent. ¡°American flags ONLY.¡± It seemed to be some sort of joke among fans to throw flags at the band, or perhaps the drummer specifically.

 update 7

    The spiky haired drummer waved a french flag above the audience, pausing for a moment to look at the flag with a squint. ¡°Right colours, wrong country.¡± They blinked, throwing the flag back into the audience and adjusting the red circular sunglasses that sat atop their head, sitting back down to finish the set.


    Ezekiel stared up at the drummer for a moment, trying to decipher the patches on their jacket in between their violently sporadic movements; he couldn¡¯t pick up on anything but a logo patch and the letter ¡®M¡¯. His eyes carried from the stage to around the bar, looking to see if smoking was banned in the joint or not.


    The lights flickered before dimming, revealing the light being emitted from Ezekiel¡¯s lighter, shining through the gaps in his fingers which cupped his cigarette. The singer dipped her head before placing the microphone back on the stand and leaning in. ¡°We¡¯ll be back in 10!¡± She yelled, raising her hand in the air before turning and stepping off to the back of the stage, the rest of the band following suit.


    Ezekiel¡¯s eyes narrowed, leaping up on stage, far from nimbly, and following them to the back, he unquestionably received more than a few dirty looks from fans who¡¯d paused their cheering to watch the hunched over detective shuffle his way to the back of the creaking stage; Ezekiel was far from stealthy with his way of getting to the bottom of things.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Ezekiel¡¯s cigarette was held in the left corner of his mouth, the break room already filled with smoke before he¡¯d even entered; the smoke was most likely a mix of tobacco and marijuana, mixed with the faint smell of liquor stained carpets; if anybody is be able to detect the scent of liquor it should be Ezekiel.


    The drummer from before gripped a joint between their knuckles, getting a closer look Ezekiel could notice their intricate makeup and have a better look at the patches on their jacket, one stating ¡®Mal¡¯.


    ¡°Who are you¡­?¡± They glared toward Ezekiel, the other members seemed to be congregating around the snack table, The drummer was sitting on the ripped up faux leather couch, menacingly staring into Ezekiel¡¯s irises.


    ¡°Ezekiel Martin, I''m here to speak with you about a show you performed about a month ago.¡± Ezekiel blew smoke through his teeth, pulling a torn up brown-ish notebook from his pocket; the drummer blinking before standing at his request to speak. They were far taller than Ezekiel expected.


    ¡°Mind if i get your name,¡± Ezekiel looked up with the posture of a prawn, clicking his pen over and over again waiting for the name of the fluffy haired drummer.


    ¡°Malice.¡± They frankly stated, crossing their arms and tapping their boots against the carpeted floor, their head was held toward the ceiling, chin raised while staring down at the grimy detective.


    ¡°Is that like, your real name? I need your real name¡­¡± Ezekiel tilted his head, he thought it was common sense that he wanted their real name, but perhaps they took him for some sort of interviewer, here to discuss the band.


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    ¡°That''s my legal name, yes.¡± Malice was clearly a tad annoyed with the question, just as Ezekiel thought it was common sense they needed a real name, Malice thought it was common sense that they¡¯d given their real name.


    ¡°Wow, yikes alright. Either you¡¯re really cool or your parents hated you.¡± Ezekiel blinked, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck with a squint. He was finding it difficult to believe such a stage-esc name could be their legal nomenclature, though perhaps they weren''t born with said name.


    Malice let out a low growl toward Ezekiel, they found his words ever so slightly offensive, and they¡¯d rather be continuing with their break than being questioned and insulted by a sad, sleep deprived, middle aged man. ¡°Is there a point to this, i¡¯ve only got 10 minutes before i¡¯ve gotta get back on.¡± They lowered their head for a moment, glancing back at their fellow band members, Seraphim, and Label, both equally odd names compared to theirs.


    ¡°Yes you see, a young woman named Valery was here at your last show in town, I need to know if you interacted with her.¡± Ezekiel began scribbling out words in his notes, half of which were exactly that, scribbles, he wanted to do something to look busy and avoid staring at Malice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get the names of fans when they visit, I might let them get a photo or two but I never ask them who they are.¡± Malice crossed their arms, exhaling in a disgruntled fashion, the question was absurd, as Malice had assumed Ezekiel was nothing but an interviewer being paid to talk to a band he knew nothing about; it was a reasonable assumption. Afterall, who wouldn''t take some quick cash talking to a group of musicians for a few minutes or so.


    ¡°I understand, so you haven¡¯t seen this woman?¡± Ezekiel paused writing for a moment, rustling for a photo of Valery he¡¯d printed out about three days earlier, holding the image up for Malice to see. He didn¡¯t expect a kidnapper or murderer to come out and say they did something, but also Malice seemed too disconnected from the situation, as they truly didn¡¯t know what Ezekiel was talking about, it was difficult for him to believe they were involved, but he needed to be sure.


    Malice leaned in, grasping the photo with the tips of their open gloved fingers, they were struggling to see in the dimly lit break room, it seemed they had trouble seeing in the dark. ¡°Apologies, I¡¯m having some trouble, do you mind if we go outside¡­?¡± Malice¡¯s words were subfusc and ever so slightly aggressive. Ezekiel felt his lungs and breath sink into his chest, on edge about going into an enclosed alley with this muscular of a person.


    The damp air in the room sank with Ezekiel¡¯s breath, the two of them stepping toward the black back push door where the room¡¯s suspended smoke was drawn to, leaking into the alley. Their feet were out of sync, a desolate rhythm; a rhythm that didn¡¯t at all bring euphoria to the ears, it was a pounding, it was making Ezekiel irritated.

 update 8

    Malice pushed up against the door with their back, one of the spikes on their shoulder scratching the door''s paint, they were keeping eye contact with Ezekiel as if he were being examined. It hit him, Ezekiel was afraid to be alone with this person, at least there were cameras and fans, etc. inside that would know if something happened to him, but this person, this character; Malice didn¡¯t express themselves properly, Ezekiel was trying to decipher if they were hiding something or if it was simply a personal issue.


    The stagnant brisk air of the city hit both Ezekiel and Malice¡¯s faces, it was a nice break from the stuffy club interior, though the quick change in climate caused Ezekiel¡¯s bones to rattle, a shiver running from his skull to his heels. ¡°Well, can you see it now?¡± Ezekiel manoeuvred his hands into his pockets after handing the photo back to Malice, twisting and adjusting his vest as he did so. Ezekiel craned his neck in every which way, from left to right, up and around, every available direction was examined, he wanted to keep note of his location and anything that could have possibly been here around the time Valery was, anything that could be used to bludgeon another person, perhaps any clues that she was shot and disposed of, the music from the club was certainly loud enough and the banging coming from it could partially cover the sound of a gunshot, goes to show they need to turn the speakers down. This is all assuming they didn¡¯t try to silence the firearm, if there was a firearm at all, it doesn''t seem like many people lived in the area anyway, no point to try and hide the sound of a bullet being fired from a congregation of drug addicts and drunkards.


    Malice dropped their joint, and it seemed they didn¡¯t care enough to finish it as they¡¯d slammed the tip of their boot into the now squished mix of weed and paper just before grabbing the photo from Ezekiel once more. ¡°I think so?¡± They¡¯d questioned their own words. The woman in the photo, Valery, appeared familiar to Malice, but they couldn¡¯t pinpoint it. ¡°I mean, she was probably in the front row or something of the like.¡± Malice blinked, each eye at separate times before groaning and rubbing the heel of their palms into their eyes.


    ¡°So you don¡¯t recognise this woman.¡± Ezekiel was sceptical but also couldn¡¯t help but feel like this wasn¡¯t a cohesive interview. Ezekiel had no clue how much of and or what the person in front of him took, or if they¡¯d done anything more than the marijuana they previously held in their hands.


    Before Malice had a chance to reassure Ezekiel on the fact they did not know Valery, Ezekiel began to question them more. ¡°Was that all you¡¯ve smoked?¡± He inquired, standing oddly still and staring up toward the unnerving musician.


    Malice parted their lips for a moment, about to speak before once again closing their mouth, waiting before speaking. ¡°No, I don''t recognise this woman, and I don''t see why my smoking habits are relevant¡­¡±


    Before Ezekiel could speak another word, the door beside them flew open, a rush of musty and perfumey scents flooding out with the smoke from inside. ¡°Malice~! We¡¯re back on!¡± Called the guitarist in a sing-songy tune, they appeared joyful and childish, the two band members at first glance appeared to have a sibling-like relationship, this theory was only solidified when Malice responded by placing their hand on the guitarists head, ruffling their hair and squatting down a bit to mock them for their height. ¡°I got it, bel, I got it, and after this we can go home and i¡¯ll make us dinner.¡± Malice grinned, they were clearly making some sort of joke that Ezekiel wasn¡¯t in on.


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    ¡°Ew no way, I¡¯d rather lick your makeup drawer than let anybody other than Phim cook!¡± Label seemed cheerful when addressed by Malice, they clearly shared a close bond, one that made the two of them seem entirely innocent, but nobody is innocent and Ezekiel had grown to learn that.


    ¡°God, I hope you¡¯re all joking when you say these are your real names.¡± Ezekiel watched the two musicians slam the door shut behind them, revealing a ¡®no entry¡¯ sign covered in graffiti, the lights from the inside still shining through the doors cracks, much like the front door, if any door on this place could be considered a front door.


    And just like that, Ezekiel¡¯s cigarette had run dry, down to its last life, causing him to let out a prolonged sigh in response; he released his jaws grip on the barely standing rolled paper, the butt of the cigarette entirely splitting from itself the moment it hit the pavement. ¡°My last one and I didn''t even get to enjoy it¡­¡± Ezekiel complained, even though it was he who got himself into this situation in the first place, entirely on his own.


    The street lamps flickered on and off, the neighbourhood was dingy and smelt of smoke mixed with gasoline and rat piss. Though wasn¡¯t the most unpleasant neighbourhood or even location Ezekiel had been in, it wasn¡¯t even the worst place he¡¯d resided in; Lucy would argue his apartment was much worse, but Ezekiel still wanted to leave this area of the city as fast as possible, he didn¡¯t feel safe.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t get back home soon I''m worried somebody is gonna¡¯ try and sell me a gram.¡± Ezekiel spoke to himself in a less than worried tone, despite stating he was worried in the moment, he honestly felt with this case going nowhere he might have liked for somebody to give him a good deal on substances.


    After standing around in the alley that was practically begging for irradiation, he decided he would either call a taxi or message Lucy, though Lucy wouldn¡¯t be too happy to see him standing around alone in the dark next to a club, she¡¯d picked him up drunk enough times and would probably refuse to come get him the moment he told her his location. ¡°Looks like I''m walking home, aren¡¯t I?¡± Ezekiel growled to himself, debating on deciding on neither of the options, he didn¡¯t want to piss off Lucy but also didn''t have the money for a taxi, nor did he trust a taxi, not around here.

 update 9

    He slumped up against a nearby brick wall, sliding down it, hitting the concrete and mindlessly running his fingers through his hair; he found his long hair annoying but couldn¡¯t bring himself to cut it, he didn¡¯t really know why, and he didn¡¯t really know if it was a fear, he just couldn¡¯t do it.


    ¡°I should just call Lucy¡­¡± Ezekiel began to question his previous statement on just walking home, his house was about twenty minutes downtown and that''s in a vehicle, he¡¯d already walked about fifteen minutes from the station which would make his house about a twenty five minute drive away, and a forty minute walk, that is assuming his poor bones and physique could take him forty minutes downtown.


    He rummaged through every pocket on his attire, from his vest to his pants, etc. attempting to find his phone. He was easily able to tell it had been located when he felt a sharp pain shoot through the nerves in his hand after a shard of glass from his more than shattered screen had nested itself in his ring finger. Instead of being repelled by the encounter with his device he was clearly used to it, and entirely gripped the phone of which the screen appeared to be on the brink of fulminating the moment pressure was applied to it.


    He began ever so poorly searching for his keypad to dial Lucy¡¯s phone number; he specifically used his pinky to dial it, ¡®xxx-827-0173¡¯ was the number he meticulously typed out, struggling with every digit and then placing the phone on speaker and allowing it to ring; he wouldn¡¯t dare press the shattered screen to his face, not unless he was paid to do so, Ezekiel would do nearly anything if he was paid to do so.


    To Ezekiel¡¯s surprise it wasn¡¯t Lucy who picked up her phone, instead it was her wife, Miriam, who¡¯d answered the phone; her voice was fuzzy and soft, she¡¯d clearly been asleep or at least on the brink of napping when Ezekiel had called. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry to be buggin¡¯ ya¡¯ but you think Lucy could rip the truck over and get me¡­?¡± He sounded far sorrier for bothering Miriam than he would have been for bothering Lucy, he already felt bad for asking Lucy to pick him up but waking up Miriam in the process just made him feel like a bit of a nuisance.


    Miriam yawned, softly whispering her words before clearing her throat so Ezekiel could actually hear her. ¡°She¡¯s in her office right now I''m sure she won''t mind getting you, and, Ezekiel¡­ you¡¯re really not bugging me, you¡¯re not bugging either of us.¡± Miriam smiled, though it wasn¡¯t visible to Ezekiel over the phone her gentle grin could nearly be heard.


    Miriam reassuring Ezekiel was soon interrupted by the sound of a creaking door; it was Lucy entering the bedroom, it seems she¡¯d heard Miriam was awake and came to check on her. ¡°Ria what are you doing¡­ you should be resting.¡± Lucy¡¯s voice was far more loving and benign than when she spoke to Ezekiel, of course it would have been it was her wife after all.


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    After a moment of silence caused by Lucy pressing her lips to Miriam¡¯s forehead, Ezekiel could almost feel the atmosphere change before Lucy¡¯s next words. ¡°Is Ezekiel on the phone¡­?¡± Lucy questioned in a hushed tone, it was difficult for him to tell if she didn¡¯t want him to hear her or if she was whispering because Miriam was sick.


    The stranded detective couldn¡¯t make out what the women were discussing with each other at this point, their voices were too quiet and Ezekiel¡¯s hearing was too bad, though he assumed it was something along the lines of Miriam convincing Lucy to not leave him left wherever he had been.


    The phone went static, Lucy had been taking it into her own hands, sighing and beginning to ask Ezekiel for information so she knew where to go when she went to get him. ¡°So you¡¯re in an alley, again, how lovely¡­¡± Lucy inhaled before Miriam chuckled to herself in the background, her voice could just barely be heard stating: ¡°Leave the poor man alone, Lu it¡¯s fine¡­ we should all get iced cream after we pick him up.¡± Lucy couldn¡¯t help but give in when the woman she loved so dearly asked her like this, besides, Lucy knew Ezekiel had problems and wanted to help him with them, perhaps she was just growing a tad annoyed with the fact Ezekiel himself didn¡¯t want help with his problems.


    The phone beeped, asking for Ezekiel to rate the call; he assumed Lucy was on her way from Miriam asking if they could fetch iced cream after getting Ezekiel from the alleyway. He staggered to his feet, rubbing his hand across both his eyes, the violently loud cacophony of music began again, he had never been fond of punk as an overall music genre, he was more into folk or classic rock.


    After about twelve minutes and sixteen seconds Lucy could be heard taking a sharp corner, it was easy to tell it was her by the blaring music; Ezekiel¡¯s hands were gripped over his ears at the sound of two different music styles, trying his best to stop the music from rupturing his ears.


    Miriam rolled her window down, it was surprising she¡¯d come along, though it was obvious Lucy wasn¡¯t too happy that she¡¯d come with, she¡¯d clearly rathered Miriam be at home sleeping or at least just resting.


    ¡°Ezekiel!¡± She called, realising the detective could barely hear her and gesturing for Lucy to turn the music down with a friendly grin. Miriam¡¯s door clicked, the woman stepping down from the truck in purple slippers and fluffy cobweb print pyjama pants. Her hair was wavy like that of her wife, though it wasn¡¯t like that naturally, her hair was clearly freshly brushed and trying its best to revert back to its natural curly state. She wore a refreshing smile , her hands held together, entwined in one another; she stood with her heels together, from Ezekiel¡¯s observations alone it was easy to tell she¡¯d been raised by a very proper family, But with prior knowledge he knew she was simply like this.

 update 10

    ¡°Miriam, shouldn¡¯t you be at home¡­?¡± Ezekiel was hunched over and pushing his hands into his pants pockets, Miriam didn¡¯t seem at all annoyed with coming to get Ezekiel, or if she was it didn¡¯t show, and it absolutely wasn¡¯t as prominent as Lucy, who was paying zero attention to Ezekiel and rushing to get her wife out of this neighbourhood.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, get your sorry ass in the back.¡± Lucy tapped her foot, watching Ezekiel and Miriam head back toward the truck; she reached her hand out to help her wife up into the vehicle, Miriam laughing joyfully in return, she was always the happiest in the room, and Lucy couldn¡¯t bear to see her any other way, which was a simple explanation for why she drove out here to get Ezekiel, who was perfectly capable of walking home himself, that is without any serious injury, sure he may have ached a tad if he did end up walking home but it''s nothing a sick call and some ibuprofen can¡¯t fix.


    Ezekiel shuffled himself up to the truck, his poorly held together boots clanged and clashed against the vehicle¡¯s steps; the detective eventually managed to throw himself onto the back seat. Lucy didn¡¯t seem too impressed with Ezekiel laying in her back seat in a less than legal manner.¡±Sit up.¡± She quickly spoke, revving the truck''s engine. Miriam¡¯s seat belt buckle clicked, her wavy pants folding together to make a solid rectangle while she sat, she looked near ecstatic to be getting out of the house, whether she was sick or not.


    He closed the truck''s door and used his hands to push off of the back seat. His head hit the glass of the back window, buckling himself into the seat before Lucy began to reverse the truck, taking a more than rough turn; she slammed her foot on the gas pedal and looked over at Miriam for a moment, Ezekiel wasn¡¯t paying much attention after that point. He¡¯d usually have been taking in every ounce of knowledge he could but he was lost in thought, the neighbourhood certainly wasn¡¯t a welcoming place, nor was the club he¡¯d been in prior, but he didn¡¯t see how Valery could have possibly gone missing here, there was still zero evidence, at least nothing on the surface, nothing that he could see just by looking around.


    ¡°Lucy I-,¡± Ezekiel was swiftly cut off by Lucy, she¡¯d softened up a tad and didn¡¯t seem as mad at Ezekiel as she was when he called, but she still had things to say to him and she was going to make them clear. ¡°Look, I don''t need you discussing your interrogations or your love life, not with Miriam here. If you have something to tell me, do it tomorrow.¡± Lucy stared back at Ezekiel in between keeping her eyes on the road. Miriam didn¡¯t look at all annoyed by the idea of hearing about Ezekiel¡¯s work, though she wasn¡¯t exactly one to pay attention when people spoke about their relationships, she cared, she just didn¡¯t know what to say and ended up zoning out whenever Ezekiel or anybody else had tried to talk to her about whatever women, men, etc. they were going out with.


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    ¡°Got it¡­¡± Ezekiel¡¯s head tilted to the left, he was watching every sign and building that went by, counting their windows, calculating their height, he was doing anything he could to think of something else. He had drowned out the music at this point, though he¡¯d noticed Miriam and Lucy were singing together, he didn¡¯t know what they were saying, he either heard nothing or static, maybe the smoke in that place was getting to him, or maybe it was simply just his overall bad habits.


    Before he even knew it they¡¯d pulled into the parking lot of a local Ice Cream and milkshake bar, Miriam and Lucy climbed out of the truck and Ezekiel stayed in the back, he couldn¡¯t care less about Ice cream right now. The two of them shut their doors, Lucy near slamming hers, probably on accident, and Miriam gently shutting hers to the point it was questionable to say it was even closed.


    Ezekiel continued staring out the window, scanning the sidewalk. It was dark but at least the street lamps worked on this side of town; there were random stones and a very small amount of cars passing by, most likely because of the time.


    As he continued to scan his surroundings, waiting for Miriam and Lucy to get back he could have sworn he saw something walking, something that didn¡¯t make sense, something that wasn¡¯t illuminated by the street lamps, it had the figure and build of a human being but it was too fuzzy it was too shadowy it was, simply not normal. The figure caused Ezekiel to sit up, staring intently at what he assumed was a person, though he must admit he was a bit off put when they made eye contact, if it had eyes? He wasn¡¯t sure but he at that point had sat back down and looked away, he¡¯d realised it was stupid of him to think a random person could be involved in a case he was working on, at this point even to himself he¡¯d come off as desperate and idiotic.


    He still couldn¡¯t help himself from looking over though, even if he was sitting back in his seat he¡¯d glanced over periodically, seems the person was merely sitting at the bus stop, they¡¯d appeared to be in a rain poncho, Ezekiel found it strange as it was a clear cloudless night, even with the light pollution Ezekiel could have seen the stars, there was no reason to be wearing any sort of rain coverings.


    The bell on the shop¡¯s door rang, Miriam and Lucy had emerged with their ice cream, Lucy had a cone of strawberry with chocolate syrup around the top of the waffle cone itself, resting underneath and most likely within the ice cream instead of on top of the frozen treat. Miriam had vanilla soft serve dipped in a caramel flavoured hardened chocolate coating and sprinkled with cashews.

 update 11

    Lucy walked around to Miriam¡¯s door side first, the door handle clicked and Lucy helped Miriam up into the truck, holding her dessert while she did so. Whether she needed it or not, Lucy liked being of help to Miriam, even for the simplest tasks. ¡°Ezekiel, are you sure you don¡¯t want anything?¡± Miriam glanced back at Ezekiel while Lucy handed Miriam her Ice cream and shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not goin¡¯ back in there, if he wants somethin¡¯ he can get it himself.¡± Lucy slightly laughed at her statement, the two of them giggled to each other, it was clearly an inside joke, most likely referencing something that had happened inside the shop or perhaps before.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine I''m¡­ I''m good.¡± Ezekiel nodded to himself, looking back at the bus stop, he felt a bit stalker-ish, but he couldn¡¯t help but be drawn to look at them, or perhaps it. He assumed it was just a normal person, minding their business, and he did genuinely feel weird watching them with such intent, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they weren¡¯t meant to be here, like they didn¡¯t belong in the setting.


    Lucy¡¯s door slamming shut, encasing her in the vehicle, snapped Ezekiel back to his senses. He stopped looking at the poncho wearing figure and leaned back, exhaling with a slight gulp, the door shutting had scared him, and he just wanted to get home.


    Lucy placed her key in the ignition, turning it and causing the truck¡¯s engine to start running; the radio ran static before glitching to life, Lucy needed a new stereo but she refused to replace it with anything other than a direct copy or model of the stereo she currently owned, it was the original radio for her truck, she was odd when it came to truck parts.


    Music began blaring when Lucy was done playing around with the radio stations. Ezekiel was staring at the roof of the truck, it was felted, grey, it looked soft. ¡°Lu, i think we should get a dog.¡± Miriam blurted out while Lucy reversed the truck, her arm resting over the back of her seat while she stared back. ¡°Ria, we already have enough fish. I don''t think we need a dog, dear.¡± Lucy slightly chuckled at the comment, Miriam smiled and laughed along. Miriam quite enjoyed asking Lucy for outrageous things to see how she¡¯d react, of course she¡¯d never ask for something like a new house or a new stereo, even if Lucy needed it. She merely liked to discuss little things with Lucy, she simply enjoyed her company.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, though.. Oh! Lucy, darling, we should get another Blenny.¡± Miriam smirked quite deviously, as if she was both joking and serious. Miriam had a habit of collecting fish that Lucy never failed to help her indulge in.


    Lucy shook her head, smiling toward Miriam while she put the vehicle in drive. ¡°Fine, but we¡¯re not getting another blue one, we have enough.¡± Lucy turned her gaze to the road and began her drive toward Ezekiel¡¯s apartment. Ezekiel was still convinced the only reason Lucy still had a licence ws because she herself was an officer, the speed at which she drove on average could send a victorian boy into shell shock.


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    It was a genuine surprise that Lucy could even stop for stop signs and red lights with the speed she was going, it seems nobody at the station really cared though, as long as nothing bad came of it and as long as she made it to work on time, everybody was pretty lenient.


    Lucy soon came to a stop in front of Ezekiel¡¯s apartment, looking back and gesturing for him to get out. Ezekiel nodded and pushed the door open with a bit of a struggle, sliding out of the vehicle and stumbling his way up the apartment steps. He turned around for a moment and gave a wave directed at Miriam, followed by a smirk as he flipped Lucy off, jokingly, and entered the complex with the sound of Lucy¡¯s laughter behind him.


    The door slammed behind him, it was the only sound the door made, it was well kept and the hinges were frequently checked, unlike the hinges on the doors in Ezekiel¡¯s apartment, he¡¯s surprised he hasn¡¯t been evicted yet but i suppose as long as he can pay the rent and since he doesn¡¯t make much noise, they haven¡¯t exactly had a reason to check on him, which means they haven¡¯t had a reason to kick him out.


    Ezekiel placed his key in the metallic, silver door handle, turning said key was honestly a bit of a tussle, but he managed to open it eventually. He entered the more than messy apartment, kicking a bottle that sat near the door and gently closing the door behind him and exhaling abruptly. ¡°This place is a hell hole¡­¡± He spoke to himself, not even bothering to remove his boots in fear of stepping on shards of glass.


    He made his way over to the coffee table, slowly, and barely picking up his feet; he reached for the drawer on the far right, placing his house key meticulously in the exact aligned spot it was meant to sit, right under the sticky note that stated so. In return he grasped the key to his bedroom, a place he rarely visits, a place he dislikes visiting.


    His feet felt heavier than usual as he headed toward the room, it was far easier to unlock than the front door, the lock was rarely used which caused it to be in far better shape than any other lock in the house, locks that Ezekiel frequently locked and unlocked, he locked just about everything.


    As the stream of light from the kitchen window spread across the living room it soon too entered the bedroom, the door creaking open to once again reveal a dark room missing light bulbs and even one of the switches, Ezekiel couldn¡¯t remember if he removed it himself or if it was simply like that. There were papers spread across the floor from old cases that the station refused to let Ezekiel continue, or some from cases he¡¯d already solved. Ezekiel had a habit of keeping old documents, which is what led to this mess. One day he simply grew too unbothered by leaving documents around and just simply stopped putting them away, he rarely used his bedroom around the time anyway, so he decided to use the room to store said documents. It began to spread over the years and the documents covered every square metre of the room.

 update 12

    Ezekiel trampled the old papers, his gaze sharpening when he looked toward his desk, surprisingly it only had one or two papers on it, both of which related to his first case, they were investigating an armed robbery, safe to say it didn¡¯t end well. With a shiver, he swept the papers off his desk and reached for the top drawer, it was locked. Of course it was locked. He struggled to get it open, knowing he hadn¡¯t used the drawer in years, he wouldn¡¯t know where the key was, and he frankly didn¡¯t care.


    He tugged at the drawer, planting his boot at the desk¡¯s base and kicking at the drawer with his left foot. It was hardwood and he thought it would be more difficult to break, but, turns out the humidity had gotten to it. The drawer¡¯s front splintered and snapped, Ezekiel dropping the remains the moment it did so and kneeling to see inside the drawer. His knees hit the splintered wood, more than a few slivers being caught in his skin, but he didn¡¯t care, he was looking for a flashlight.


    Ezekiel stuck his hand in the drawer, it contained far more than a few packs of batteries, as if Ezekiel was heavily afraid the flashlight¡¯s batteries would die, it seems it came in handy as after around fifteen years there was no way the batteries in that flashlight would still work.


    He would have merely opened the window to let some light in but, after the incident he¡¯d boarded it off and stuck a cork board over top, that same cork board was now covered in photos and strips from newspapers etc. all connected with several different colours of string.


    Ezekiel scratched at one of the battery packs, trying his best to get it open so he could replace the batteries in the flashlight, said flashlight had been unscrewed and held between his knees so he could place the batteries inside easier. ¡°God who designed this packaging¡­¡± Ezekiel hissed and resorted to using his teeth to tear through the package, most of the batteries fell on the floor which caused Ezekiel to scramble to try and pick up at least three, just enough to make the flashlight work.


    The flashlight clicked on, a beam of light illuminating the room wherever Ezekiel decided to point it. ¡°Finally¡­¡± He grumbled, looking around the cluttered bedroom, despite being covered in paper everything else was well kept, as if before it was covered in documentation it had been obsessively cleaned.


    Ezekiel pointed the flashlight at the cork board which covered his window, it was eerily lit, it made him uncomfortable to stare at, but it had something he needed.


    Held on by a purple thumb tack was an article, an article that wasn¡¯t connected to anything else on the board at all, it had a statement about a man who¡¯d gone missing in the exact neighbourhood Ezekiel had been in about forty minutes prior, he¡¯d never done anything with the case as they¡¯d found the body and after about two years of searching never found the killer, but being there really made a realisation strike him. There was a slim chance that Valery had gone missing in this neighbourhood as the only evidence she was there was the fact she¡¯d gone to see ¡®Stix & Shovels¡¯ perform. But perhaps she was stalked, starting from that neighbourhood, perhaps the same person who¡¯d caused the disappearance and murder of Micheal Wilson had caused the disappearance of Valery North, but how would he find them, what would he do.


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    Ezekiel sat down on his paper covered bed, the documents were crips despite the humid air, the crunched underneath his weight. He had moved the article to the very centre of the cork board and simply sat. He didn¡¯t remove the light, he didn¡¯t move, he just stared, the light was directed at the middle of the board as to illuminate the case of Micheal Wilson. He gulped before whispering to himself. ¡°This is gonna¡¯ be a long night¡­¡±


    The sun soon had risen, though the light did not enter the room; Ezekiel was curled up atop the collection of papers which sat on his bed, surrounded by markers and notebooks, an empty coffee mug and some advil. The room was still stuffy and damp but now smelt ever so slightly of pen ink mixed with mocha.


    Ezekiel¡¯s arm twitched, hearing an alarm clock on his bedside table tick before beginning to beep. his hand moving to grip his back, rolling onto his stomach to try and push off of the pile. He was disoriented and trying to figure out where the sad beeping was coming from, the alarm clock sounded like it was on its last life, it''s a shocker it made it this long.


    ¡°Christ¡­¡± He murmured to himself, the pages shifting while Ezekiel staggered to his feet, reaching for the clock which was, not surprisingly, also covered in papers, sticky notes, and accompanied by a more than thick layer of dust. He struggled to reach for the alarm, his left hand running across the dresser in an attempt to find it, his right hand running across the bed to find his flashlight.


    The alarm clock fell to the ground, the sound was muffled by the large stack of papers beneath it, but it did stop the beeping, and that''s all Ezekiel cared about right now. ¡°Can¡¯t believe that thing¡¯s still been goin¡¯ off all these years¡­¡± He clicked on the flashlight, his apartment sounded more stagnant than usual, he felt heavy and gloomy, it was a weird feeling, he didn¡¯t like it, not one bit. It felt almost as if he were in the presence of something he shouldn¡¯t be.


    The door slammed open, Ezekiel tossed the flashlight onto his couch, he still had his boots on from last night and his hair was a mess but he was ready and raring to get to work; he ripped the far right drawer of his coffee table open, grabbing his house and car keys before booking it down the complex stairs.


    Ezekiel tripped into the car garage, kicking his vehicle on purpose with a slight rage against it, god knows why, he just felt like it. The vehicle he¡¯d begun opening the door for was a janky, old sedan. He struggled to get the door open, though it soon gave way and Ezekiel was able to throw himself into the front seat.

 update 13

    Inside the car was a built-in CD player and a cassette player covered in a pile of paper resting in the passenger seat. The middle console was filled with CD¡¯s and cassettes as well as a collection of pens all in the same colour and all of the same brand, there were about sixty of them, possibly more.


    Ezekiel ran his hand along the side of the inner console, trying to find his mixtape from 1994 which he still listened to frequently; his music taste hasn¡¯t changed much since he was eighteen, the only thing that was different is back then he was a budding young college student with hope for the future, and now he¡¯s a middle aged man with a substance problem.


    He tapped his nails against one CD case, it was covered in sharpie and random doodles, he¡¯d clearly drawn them when he was much younger, a few of them were scribbled out, he couldn¡¯t remember for the life of him what they were or why he¡¯d hid them. He gripped the case with his knuckles, dislodging it from the collection of other CD¡¯s and removing the DVD from inside, placing it in the car¡¯s CD player and turning his key in the vehicle''s ignition.


    The moment the car started up, a mixed playlist of folk and classic rock began just barely playing from the built-in speakers, Ezekiel wasn¡¯t usually one to listen to loud music by choice, he¡¯d never been a fan of loud noises.


    Ezekiel pressed his foot to the pedal, pulling out of the apartment complex¡¯s garage; bottles rattled and crumpled paper rolled around in the back seat of the Sedan while Ezekiel sped toward the station.


    He passed several people and several homes, none of which caught Ezekiel¡¯s eye. Why would they, they were merely civilians, it¡¯s not like he¡¯d never seen an average citizen before, but one, one thing, something caused him to slam on the breaks.


    Somebody in a dark navy rain poncho was carrying themselves across the road, Ezekiel would have thought the poncho was black if it weren¡¯t for the blue tint when the sun hit it, the rest of their outfit was nearly the same, a deep black with a navy sheen; their arms didn¡¯t dare peak from under the fabric and their legs moved on beat to the song Ezekiel had playing, they faced forward at an exact level height.


    Ezekiel felt sick, as if he¡¯d recognised them, but before he could even manage to form a thought on the person, he heard a pile up of cars behind him all honking in unison to one another, the light had turned green, and Ezekiel was holding up at least twenty vehicles trying to get to work.


    There was no sign of the person anywhere, they hadn¡¯t been following the sidewalk after they¡¯d completed crossing the road, no matter how much Ezekiel looked around in search of this person they were simply gone.


    The detective shook, he was most likely just tired, he was seeing things, it wasn¡¯t uncommon for Ezekiel to hallucinate every once in a while as he wasn¡¯t in the best of health, but this person seemed too off putting, they made him feel disgusting and ill.


    Ezekiel pulled in infront of the police station, barely managing to park his car correctly before kicking his door open and gripping at the inside of his pockets to see if he¡¯d had any cigarettes left; not at all to his surprise nothing was in his pockets but his keys, lighter, a note pad, and some lint.


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    He ran his hand down his face with a moan of disdain just a moment previous to him reaching from the driver side door to the passenger seat, checking the glove box for any extra packs he may have placed there at an earlier date.


    ¡°Praise the lord.¡± Ezekiel chuckled, lowering his head and pulling a pack of extra slim cigarettes from his glove box; he backed out of the vehicle, kicking his door closed while he lit his overpriced rolled tobacco.


    The station¡¯s doors flew open, Ezekiel was obviously the one who¡¯d done so; nobody at the receptionists desk looked impressed at Ezekiel¡¯s abuse on the door hinges.


    ¡°No wonder your kitchen door¡¯s missin¡¯, if that¡¯s how you treated the damn thing.¡± Snickered Lucy, who was just leaving to break room and heading for her office when she¡¯d caught Ezekiel¡¯s dramatic entrance. ¡°You break your arm on that one?¡± She smiled, making a clear crack at the detective¡¯s poor physique and overall fragile build.


    Ezekiel tilted his head back for a moment before looking back at Lucy who¡¯d been slowly approaching him. ¡°Ya¡¯ get that fish for Miriam yet?¡± Ezekiel retorted back, he knew Miriam had been repeatedly asking for more and more fish, even though she could just buy them herself; Miriam being a marine biologist with a $42.12 an hour salary.


    He exhaled, lowering his head to the ground for a moment before pushing past Lucy and heading to his own office. Lucy appeared more than confused by this action as she¡¯d expected Ezekiel to try and speak to her about whatever he¡¯d been trying to tell her in the truck last night.


    ¡°Not gonna elaborate on what you were doing in that alley last night?¡± Lucy leaned in, following Ezekiel to his office, only to get entirely ignored by him, that is if you don''t count the eye roll he¡¯d thrown in for good measure.


    ¡°Look I did some research and it''s really not important right now.¡± He sped through his words, he just wanted to get back to his office and rearrange his belongings which had been so kindly removed from their places.


    The door creaked open to find a 5 ''11 blonde officer pinning blankets to the wall, Ezekiel¡¯s carpets were back in place and there were scarves re-hung on the ceiling.


    ¡°Arnez you cunt¡­ what do you need¡­¡± Ezekiel sneered, he was more than pissed to see Arnez in his office again, especially since he knew the only reason he was doing anything of this sort was because he needed something.


    ¡°Oh, Ezekiel! Good morning.¡± Arnez clasped his hands together with a smile, giving a delighted expression to the not so delighted Ezekiel that stood before him. His hair was surprisingly undone, something of which was uncommon for Arnez; he had two long side burns that could nearly be considered bangs, they¡¯d usually be braided together and wrapped around the back of his head but it seems he didn¡¯t have time to do his hair this morning.

 update 14

    ¡°Cut to it, I''ve got things to do.¡± Ezekiel shuffled toward his desk, placing himself down in his still wobbly, barely supported chair and began rummaging through his filing cabinet while he waited for Arnez to give him an excuse on why he¡¯d been in his office.


    ¡°Well it¡¯s nothing in particular, but you see it would be just so helpful if you could maybe send me those news headers? The 2016 ones?¡± He pleaded, a clearly forced grin resting on his maw. Arnez¡¯s hands still held together as if he were to drop to his knees and begin praying at any moment.


    Ezekiel appeared concerned, or at least confused. ¡°And why would you need those?¡± His gaze narrowed on his colleague, for what reason would Arnez need articles from 2016? Arnez wasn¡¯t even a part of the station during 2016.


    ¡°Just thought they¡¯d be useful!¡± Arnez placed one of his hands on his waist and the other gave a terribly childish thumbs up directly in Ezekiel¡¯s face. He didn¡¯t seem like he planned on giving Ezekiel an exact reason for why he needed the news reports, but he was insistent on acquiring them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to babysit you. I''ll get them when I can, now get out.¡± He shooed Arnez away with a flick of his crackling wrist and a glare toward Lucy who stood in his doorway with a more than pissed look on her face.


    ¡°And who put a stick up your ass.¡± Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms and walking toward Ezekiel once more. She placed herself on his desk and watched as he violently rummaged through seemingly random documents and files.


    ¡°Lucy, you¡¯ve got your own job to do, and I''m doing mine.¡± He still spoke with a certain swiftness while he picked through his less than organised filing cabinet; or so it appeared unorganised, to Ezekiel everything was in its place, even if it did look like a rat curled up and died in there.


    ¡°You found a lead didn¡¯t you?¡± Lucy snickered, lowering her arms from their crossed position and allowing them to rest on the desk, her legs began to rest over one another and her teeth began to show in a mischievous grin.


    Ezekiel ceased his rooting through the peeling paint covered filing cabinet, looking back at Lucy with a smirk and shake of his head; his hair was too heavy and weighed to move when his head swayed from side to side. ¡°Maybe I did.¡± He stated, going back to his ferret like digging.


    ¡°Got it¡­ Got it.¡± Lucy smiled, seeing Ezekiel was clearly enjoying himself for the first time in around a month, the first time since this case began to be exact, appears she had a nice update to share with Miriam at dinner tonight; Miriam had been asking Lucy relentlessly what Ezekiel¡¯s state was, she was more worried about him than his doctors.


    ¡°You have fun then, Martin.¡± She laughed to herself, leaping off the desk, barely using any force to push herself forward and trotting out of the poorly lit, grungy office.


    Ezekiel¡¯s head spun backward with a hiss as he began to shout at Lucy. ¡°I told you to quit calling me by my surname!¡± His voice rasped toward the woman who¡¯d been laughing too loud to herself to hear him.


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    He adjusted the placement of his right leg before continuing his search, though it didn¡¯t last for long; Ezekiel pulled a file, entirely coloured with an orange marker. The colouring was blotchy and streaky, it was most likely a dollar store marker, as poor quality water based ink was seeping through all sides of the file.


    ¡°This is gonna be hell.¡± He nervously chuckled to himself, itching at his face for a moment and splaying the innards of the file out on his desk, staring at it as if it were a decaying carcass. He looked disgusted by what was inside but rolled his eyes and carried on.


    The file contained all the information on the case of Micheal Wilson, though it was little. Inside was the location where the body was found, including photos of the corpse and reports from the autopsy. He¡¯d suffered severe blunt force trauma followed by three shots in the back of his neck, directly in the spine. Ezekiel had all too much experience with firearms and his spine. He could handle just about everything he¡¯d ever been faced with but that single mention made him gag.


    ¡°Elsie street¡­ dodge lane¡­.¡± He skimmed over information for anything he found important, though the only thing he picked up on is that he knew of a fairly priced bar down Elsie Street. He was sure he¡¯d be able to find an excuse to make his way down there, even if Micheal wasn¡¯t much of an avid drinker, he¡¯s sure he could find an excuse to wander his way downtown and get a few cocktails.


    Just in the midst of his rummaging for information and daydreaming of what he could be consuming, a knock formed on the doorframe, it appears Arnez was back and once again hungry for those headings.


    ¡°Ezekiel haven¡¯t you had time to send me those-¡± He was more than cut off by Ezekiel standing, not bothering to pull his chair out one bit; the entire wooden seat toppled over in response to his abrupt posture change. ¡°Well then,¡± Arnez attempted to ignore Ezekiel approaching him and looked off to the side to continue his sentence, a slight gulp rolling down his throat.


    ¡°I left them in my car.¡± Ezekiel blurted out to Arnez who perked up immediately in response; he¡¯d thought Ezekiel was going to hit him, or worse, hit on him. Ezekiel carried his feet heavily and grabbed hold of Arnez¡¯s sleeve, dragging him out of the office and to his Sedan.


    The moment Ezekiel¡¯s boot hit the pavement outside he let go of Arnez and aggressively swung open the door to the back seat of his dingy yellowish beige vehicle. The detective hunched over and began digging through bottles and pages for the headings he knew weren¡¯t in there. ¡°Arnez you know I actually meant to ask you something,¡± Ezekiel began to inquire, unable to see Arnez rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in response.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to ask, Ezekiel. No, I won''t be your wingman again.¡± Arnez¡¯s words were clearly based on past events Ezekiel was trying his best not to recall.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever¡­ asked you to do that.¡± Ezekiel paused his search for a moment to crack his back before clearing his throat and trying to move on from Arnez¡¯s memory-filled statement. ¡°Now, you see I was hoping to¡­ investigate, downtown.¡± Ezekiel nodded to himself as if the interaction had gone smoothly.

 update 15

    Arnez¡¯s eyes widened, he certainly didn¡¯t expect Ezekiel to have actually been doing his job. ¡°Really?... and what do I have to do with that¡­?¡± The officer¡¯s weight shifted as he began to stand up straighter, his gaze fixated on the back of Ezekiel''s head, as he couldn¡¯t exactly make eye contact with somebody facing away from him.


    Ezekiel got lower to the car¡¯s base, his eyes narrowed noticing the entire underside of his passenger seat casted a shadow darker than Saint-James rhum, it engulfed his hand when he reached in to pull out a bottle, of which he assumed had been causing the problems he¡¯d been having with the seat moving back and forth.


    He quickly seized his train of thought, coming to the realisation it would be best to force out his words toward Arnez, he gulped a tad and flung himself upward, resting his arm on the car''s roof. ¡°I was hopin¡¯ you¡¯d perhaps¡­ come investigate with me.¡± Ezekiel coughed, he was planning to lose more than his consciousness during his trip, he was hoping Arnez would at least call a cab for him when he did.


    ¡°You do want me to be your wingman again, don''t you, Ezekiel.¡± Arnez appeared to have had a certain sting to his locution when he said Ezekiel¡¯s name, as if his name itself was the insult.


    ¡°Shut up, I¡¯m not looking to get laid.¡± Ezekiel hissed, rolling his eyes and shutting the door to his back seat, tucking his hand into his pocket; it was closed ever so tightly on a folded, torn sheet of paper. Arnez¡¯s eyes widened once more when he saw it.


    ¡°You''re not withholding evidence from me, are you.?¡± Arnez sneered, leaning in with disdain for the rat of a man he¡¯d been forced to look at, though he was now able to make eye contact with him, it made Arnez at least a bit more comfortable.


    ¡°How desperate are you for me to get in this vehicle, for me to help you ¡®look for evidence¡¯, Ezekiel.¡± Arnez¡¯s tone twisted like a dagger, he wasn¡¯t at all impressed with Ezekiel¡¯s foul play but was intrigued by his disparity. He was curious whether Ezekiel truly did have evidence to search for, though that was highly unlikely, Ezekiel had far too big of an ego to ever ask Arnez for help.


    ¡°Just one drink, got it? Then I''ll hand it over.¡± Ezekiel had entirely given up on his ¡®evidence¡¯ act, he simply did just want a sip of anything other than water or cheap, thin coffee.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Arnez scoffed, glancing toward the VHS player stacked with paper and pens, then back toward Ezekiel; he was clearly waiting for him to move them out of the way so he could sit down.


    Ezekiel walked around to the driver''s side and set himself down on the seat, leaning back with a sigh and waiting for Arnez to get it, but he simply stood there. Arnez stared through the window with a growl, waiting for Ezekiel to move the random pages and trinkets off the passenger seat.


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    Ezekiel threw his head back with a loud groan of pure annoyance. ¡°Can¡¯t you just sit in the back¡­?¡± He huffed, watching Arnez shake his head. He was willing to stand around and wait all day if Ezekiel didn¡¯t clear a seat for him, and that was clear.


    ¡°God, you¡¯re so prissy¡­¡± Ezekiel scoffed and grumbled, reaching over and pulling his assortment of items into his arms, tossing them into the back seat before fixing his sleeve cuffs and dramatically waving toward the seat with a bow, mocking the officer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not prissy, I''m refined.¡± Arnez rolled his eyes, gently placing himself into the vehicle and buckling himself in and crossing his legs. ¡°Your car is a wreck, you sure you don¡¯t need help cleaning?¡± Arnez stared at Ezekiel who was rummaging through his collection of CD¡¯s. He was trying his best not to play some sort of old fashioned love song, he thought it would be awkward with Arnez in the car.


    ¡°For the last time I don¡¯t need you drowning my vehicle in lysol, it¡¯s clean enough.¡± Ezekiel tapped his foot and gave up on his search, he¡¯d resorted to just playing a random DVD and praying for the best.


    The car started and Ezekiel hung his head low with a sigh before pressing his foot to the pedal, every time he¡¯d been in a vehicle he¡¯d seen that person, he didn¡¯t want to look like he¡¯d finally lost it and freak out over it with somebody in the car with him, especially when that somebody has already had him on house arrest.


    Music stayed at a reasonable volume, though Arnez adjusted the dial every once in a while. Ezekiel was keeping his eyes on the road with such intent he looked strained. He¡¯d looked like he¡¯d tried to shut off all peripheral vision he had and simply look straight ahead, Arnez appeared more than concerned observing the behaviour. Ezekiel had been his normal self just a few minutes before he¡¯d began driving, but now, exactly thirteen minutes and four seconds into the drive he looked paranoid.


    ¡°Ezekiel, I¡¯m going to switch to the regular radio.¡± Arnez leaned in a tad, he was hoping to get Ezekiel¡¯s attention by speaking in a dissonant tone, it was far softer than the average aggravated voice he used when speaking to the detective.


    Ezekiel placed his hand over the stereo, looking at Arnez for a moment with a heavy sigh. ¡°We¡¯ll be there in just a couple more minutes, you¡¯re not changing it to listen to half a song.¡± Ezekiel grumbled before his ears were engulfed with a moment of static. He swiftly removed his hand from the stereo in response, causing the buzzing to stop.


    ¡°Got it.¡± Arnez nodded, backing away from the radio and sitting flat against the seat, though he certainly didn¡¯t want to have any part of himself touching any part of Ezekiel¡¯s vehicle.