Chapter 9: My pages savour of man

The week and half counting up to Christmas were a complete blur. In the days that followed after the December 15th incident, we had been tasked with an impossible load of work. Regardless of division or department, all agents of PRECIPICE were assigned jobs to maintain peace in the panic-stricken crater heart of the country of Bespia. We were averaging 18 to sometimes even 19 hours a day on the job. It was relentless, overwhelming, and exhausting.

Reinstating order in the city was the primary assignment of the entire organisation, eo tempore. My case however, was different. Mine as well as Jacob’s, actually. The Agency Wits, as we called them — the unofficial collective of the division captains and lieutenants of the ICA departments two, three, and four — had summoned both myself and my partner who hadn’t been having the best luck with his assignment, multiple times every day to report on our progress. Our personal surveillance of our targets William Korspole and Jude Faust respectively, was to be of the paramount degree. We could not afford another slip.

At that time, we were wholly unaware of the much larger scheme that had been brewing in the world around us, unnoticed and unseen by the human eye. The Agency Wits functioned as the Raven’s brain, only controlled by the hypothalamus — the Administrative Division One. The Administrative Division was the one of many organisation secrets that the average agent knew nothing about, myself included. The location of the Central HQ itself was unknown. Like all Division HQs which operate under a front of some sort, disguised as just another business in town, Division One too was hiding somewhere in plain sight. Little did I know that the interview of some no name suicidal rookie journalist would lead me into one of the city’s most coveted secrets.

Now, this was on December 21st, I believe. I had been summoned to a shabby internet cafe in the New Suburban Market. The dingy crowded streets outside and the dimly lit interior of the cafe with its rows of computers and segregated cubicles was the ideal space for the Division Two members to disguise themselves, palam occultum, as regulars at the cafe. I walked into the staff room at the back to find the full house of six plus one that comprised the Wits.

Well this is certainly a first. All the big shots in the flesh… And, then a thought occurred to me. It would be a shame if all of them were to mysteriously die at this meeting, huh? The city would be done for. The absolute havoc I could wreak right now… Hahah…

I had to stop myself from grinning at the thought of the sheer chaos I had the power to unleash at ease right then. The sleepless hours were making my brain far more unhinged than usual. Biting on my tongue, I composed myself to face my superiors at work.

I seated myself, as I observed the group in front of me, namely — the captain of Division Two: The Intelligence and Espionage Division, Robyn Greens, and her lieutenant Lily Jones; the former captain of Division Three: The Counter-intelligence Division, Tobias Lodge, and the current lieutenant Gregory Peel; the captain of Division Four: The Assasination Division, Kristen Marl, and her lieutenant Nate Tomson; last, and certainly the least in height of them all, the current captain of Division Three, Timothy Kyd. The Wits had been an unofficial group spearheading all of the agency's chief activities for decades, Toby and Greg being the only surviving founding members. While old man Toby had retired from his position as Division Captain due to his age, he was admired far too much by the other Intelligence department captains to be simply replaced in the Wits. Timmy had, in a gesture of his reverence, refused to take the old captain’s seat, and therefore this group of snobby pretentious lards ended up being the way it is now.

By the way, and I don’t mean to brag, I was invited to join the Wits on multiple occasions by Marl, and then Kyd. Greg had been meaning to retire for a while now as well, and they’d been needing a replacement to fill in his shoes. Well, too bad I’m not doing desk jobs. And so, I had refused. Every single time. As a result, these people don’t really like me. Well, I wouldn’t blame them. I don’t like me either. It’s a miracle how Jamie tolerates me enough to have me as a boyfriend.

Tobias Lodge, the kind faced old man sitting opposite of me, began to speak in his soft, almost whisper-like voice, that you could barely hear from even two feet away, “How kind of you to finally pay us a visit, Mr. Beiker… Just when I thought you despised us.”

“Now, now, let’s be sensible gramps. I’m only here because of the situation at hand. Come 1998, and you won’t be seeing a trace of me again–”

“Han Xiaolei! Serious now,” said Kyd in a stern voice, cutting me off.

Tch, that goddamn kid. If only I could smash his head into the floor and curb stomp that little head of his. He pisses me off so fucking bad.

“Yes sir,” I replied meekly, wishing for this to be over soon. Stealing a glance at my wristwatch, I saw the hour hand tick past 3. It was 3:01 a.m., and I had been on the clock for close to 20 hours that day. I wanted to go home.

“It’s been hard for us all, Liahan. I haven’t had proper sleep in three days. You aren’t the only one having to endure this shit,” said Kristen with a yawn she tried to stifle behind her hand.

“At least he gets to go out and breathe some fresh air, while I’ve been stuck in this hellhole of an office for the last week or so…” said Lily, her reddened eyes and the bags underneath them speaking volumes more than her speech.

“I’m glad we’re all in agreement that we want to get this over with, ASAP. So, Mr. Han, please proceed with your report on your target,” said Greg, the middle aged man who sat next to his former captain and longtime comrade, and opposite to me.

“Sure thing, sir” I replied, before I began. “As you all must know, I have been assigned with the duty of monitoring the activity of my target: William Korspole, ex-junior reporter at Crater Daily. He possesses certain strange, indescribable attributes in his Vitalis presence, which has been a reasonable cause for alarm, among the ranks of the Intelligence and Surveillance departments alike. Upon close monitoring, I can with due confidence declare that he isn’t a risk. Not, right now, and not for his Vitalis at least. While it's uncertain what could happen to him if some unforeseeable circumstance were to occur, he shouldn’t be a threat as long as he remains under the close surveillance of our agency. Further details of my observations and findings are enclosed in this file here. There’s a formal report that you may peruse at your leisure. That would be all.”

I tossed the file on the desk in front of me, having risen from my seat.

“So, is he the deity-to-be that the prophecies have been about?” asked Nate Tomson, whom Jacob likes to call Nasty Tom behind his back.

“I cannot be sure, sir,” I replied, “But what I can say with certainty, is that he has nothing to do with the terrorist attacks. If he is part of some such prophecy, he is completely unaware of his role in it.”

“Or he's a really good liar!” said Nasty– I mean Nate Tom.

“Let’s also consider Jacob Islodo’s findings,” said Robyn, as she flipped through the pages of my report. “Jude Faust has been administering Vitalis suppressants to William Korspole, and along with it, something else. That ‘something’ which has now been identified to be pieces of potent artefacts. He has been inflating the Vitalis amount in his body, pumping it way beyond the Status Minimal. The results for the test we ran on the sample you extracted from him came back. His Vitalis levels are at an estimated 8,972 IVSC. The suppressants, even at the highest non lethal dose could only bring it down to around 300 IVSC. That is still thrice the Status Minimalis or normal amount of 100 IVSC found in the average human body!"

“That’s…” I began, but I couldn’t find the words to continue. 8,972 IVSC was beyond ridiculous. It sounded like some sick joke. But, inside my head, I had come to a sudden realisation. One that I knew I shouldn’t share with the class just yet. So I stayed silent.

“That is a very specific number for an estimate. Can I see the math for that?” asked Lily.

“Knock yourself out” said Robyn as she handed over a stapled bunch of papers to her lieutenant.

Then Kyd spoke, “We cannot take any further risks. It wouldn’t be wise. We should have William Korspole be captured this instant, and lock him up in a high security cell at the main base.”

The room fell silent, as everybody pondered upon Kyd’s idea.

Hell no! I can’t allow this. You son of a bitch babyface motherfucker, I’ll show you—

My train of thought cursing Timmy was interrupted when Kristen began to speak. “If we can hold him captive just right, we could kill him and get this mess sorted.”

“Kill him?! And, what? Risk the lives of multiple agents??? Don’t be ridiculous! Killing him will only result in needless casualty!” I protested.

“What better alternative do YOU have then, Xiaolei? Can you guarantee his safety? When he roams the streets, or even sits in his room, how will you guarantee that his overwhelming life energy wouldn’t attract corroded? You know what could happen if the transformation happens out there in the city!” Kyd said.

“Nothing of the sort will happen.” I replied, my voice firm. “William’s vitalis might be contained due to the ridiculous amount of suppressants that Faust has been feeding him. But it’s still enough to vapourise any low level C that approaches him. On the spot. I’ve seen it happen myself, more than once. Go through my report again.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if it does happen?” Kyd said, unconvinced.

“In that case, I’ll take responsibility for everything,” I replied.

“Responsibility? Hah… Responsibility… RESPONSIBILITY, MY FUCKING ASS!” Kyd screamed at me. It was rather shocking, to be honest. This sort of outburst was uncharacteristic of him. Sure he was curt in his speech, and desperate in his need for constant validation, but I had never known him to act like this. It would seem that the days of sleep deprivation and inhuman amounts of stress had got to him. He paused for a bit, before he laughed softly continuing, “You cocky little shit, what do you think you’ll do if there’s a deity out loose in the city? You think you can take it on? You think you can stop it? CAN YOU?!”

“Yes.” I replied.

“Motherfucker…” he said, as he got up from his seat and stormed out of the room, shoving me aside. I looked at him slamming the door shut behind me as he left. I scoffed, turning back to face the others. I could hear the sound of a loud bang and things clattering on the ground, from the other room. Guess wittle baby boy is angwy

Before I could say another word to the Wits, the old man Toby spoke, “I agree with Mr. Beiker. His assessment is quite right.”

“But sir!” Kristen began, but she stopped talking immediately when the old man looked at her with a glare. He hated being interrupted. He resumed with a smile on his face again, when he looked back at me. He spoke softly, “It would be terribly foolish to hold such a… creature captive at our home base. His energy levels are high enough to be detected from far away. Any moderately adept manipulator can do so, with little issue. We cannot risk giving away the location of our central HQ to the terrorists.”

“I concur, Toby,” seconded Greg, as he said, “Liahan is far more capable than any of us sitting in this room here. Both in terms of skill and intellect.”

Old man Toby laughed, as he said, “Don’t be saying that in front of him you fool. You’ll only inflate his ego way further than it already is, haha… Well, it is true though.”

Being complimented certainly makes me feel a little better.

“Though…” said Lily, “I know the kind of man you are, Liahan. You hate investigative work. So, we need to ensure that you’ll do your best. Say you do fail… You said you’ll take responsibility, yes? What would that responsibility be?”

“Containing the deity immediately and ensuring minimum casualty around,” I replied.

“That’s a start,” I heard a voice behind me. The most annoying voice in the world. I turned around to find Kyd standing in the doorway, a bit composed now, as he said, “There needs to be more to the punishment if you do fail a task of such importance. Especially after seeing all the trust the elders put in you.”

“Oh…? Seems like you have an idea Kyd,” said Robyn.

“Why of course I do, Miss Greens,” Timmy said, as he continued with the words that I dreaded most and knew were coming. That infuriating smirk on his face that I wished to punch so badly. Don't say it. DON'T YOU FUCKING SAY IT.

—

He fucking said it.

Back at my place, I stood by the window in my apartment gazing at the metropolitan skyline. The little specks of ash from the smoke of my cigarette descended upon the glass frame that overlooked the city that never sleeps… The neon lights flickering in the distance, the twinkling lights from the skyscrapers like stars reflected upon the endless sea of concrete, and the cars that zoomed past on the highway streets even at this hour — fish in the sea. It was sometime past 4 in the a.m. Perhaps for the first time since I’d moved here a decade ago, I felt a sense of belonging. The city wasn’t much different from me.

I wondered how Elise, Lupin, and the others were doing. They were probably out there on the streets, even now, patrolling. How I longed to be with them…

I hate overtime as much as the other person. But you know what I hate doing, even more??? Investigative work. I might be good at it, but that don't mean I should enjoy doing it.

You could hear me screaming at the wall.

“Man FUCK YOU TIMMY!”

Timothy Kyd that fucking piece of shit. His proposed punishment for me in case I failed my mission was to have me transfer to Division Three to work as his lackey.

“Hah… I’d rather die than be your coffee bitch! YEAH?” I shouted, as I threw something at the floor, in my anger. I don't remember what it was I threw but it probably made a loud sound. Because it was then that I heard footsteps emerging from the other room, and they got louder by the second.

I realised that my temper tantrum had woke Jamie up… Oh shit…

“It’s 4 in the morning. FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING,” I heard her voice emerging as the door creaked open, and she stared at me with her eyes, bloodshot. “Tell me, Liahan Beiker, dear boyfriend. Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t beat you to death right now…”

One look at her face, and I knew I was screwed.

“I- I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Baby, I’m sorry! I’M SORRY I’M FUCKING SORRY PLEASE NO AAAAA——”

—

The next morning when I met William Korspole, he looked at the bandages on my head trying their best to conceal the large concussion underneath, and he asked with much concern, “Ummm Mr. Liahan? Is that… from a mission?”

“Nope,” I replied. “Domestic violence.”

> To be continued

Author's Note:
Alright it took some time. But we're back, and it's a triple upload this time! Hope you guys like these chapters! The story's ramping up towards the final act now.

Fun fact by the way, chapters 9, 10, and 11 were originally supposed to be one single chapter. But it ended up getting way too long, so I decided to split it into three!