Lightly scarred fingers tapped the code out on the box, wind blowing lightly into the man's face and pulling his coat lightly. A voice on the other side spoke, the man looking at the glass door.
''Name?"
''Mason Weller.''
The sound of writing could be heard distantly on the other line before they spoke again.
''Age?"
He paused a moment, lowering his eyes to the toes of his shoes before looking back up at the code box.
''Twenty... Six... Twenty-six.''
''Occupation?"
''Lead investigator.''
The code box screams at him, door clicking open. He wraps his fingers around the handle and pulls it open, squinting into the sudden dark within the lobby as he steps inside, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the change of light.
''Hey, Mason!"
His eyes turn from the floor in front of him to the guard beside the door, hands folded in front of himself and soft smile on his face. He wears a dark navy uniform with short sleeves and black boots, taser on his holster and a nightstick on the other side, badge clipped to his breast pocket. Mason never grabbed his name, but knew he was the morning shift guard.
Mason nods to him, continuing inside of the building.
He has a folder under his arm, stamped and stamped again, showing that the case was completed but his report hadn't been. Mason approaches the door leading to the staircase, pulling it open and slipping in before he follows the steps up to the fourth floor where the supervisor's office sat. He jogs up the steps, brushing past one individual that catches his eye. Mason's the only one that uses the stairs.
The detective pushes the white, metal door open as he sees the number four plastered onto the wall in a contrasting black. Bodies are moving up and down the hall in a rush, Mason pressing himself back up against the wall as he watches them swim past him. He changes how he holds the folder before stepping into the current of people that are strangely in the center of the hall.
The agency had had a spike in forest cultists, giving them more cases than ever before and leading them on wild goose chases to nothing more than groups of people high on LSD and the need to be saved, giving them nothing to follow. Everyone in the hall carried the similar beige-colored folder, either against their chest or under their arms.
Mason brushes past the secretary's desk, the man there glancing up but saying nothing as Mason lets himself in to his supervisor's office, without an invitation. Dark eyes lift to him, watches as he pushes the dark wood door closed with a light 'click' to signify it shut properly.
''Detective Weller,'' they said, raising their chin. Mason smiles, crooked teeth revealing themselves.
''Did I lose our first name basis?"
He crosses the space between the door and the chairs.
''The moment you invited yourself in to my office.'' the supervisor responds, name in gold upon their desk. It simply reads ''Charlie'', signifying their name. They gave themselves a first, but never a last.
Mason drops the beige, stamped folder on the surface of the other's desk, ontop of the other folders that needed to be read. His smile is gone, he's simply staring and waiting as he collects his words properly. Charlie's thin fingers ghost over the folder before a nail lowers itself across the side of it, lifting the first page of the folder open to look at the papers within.
''Which case is this?" they ask. They're ring finger pushes the pages out of the way, revealing his report beneath the rest.
''The only one I've been on for the past year, Charlie.'' Mason responds. Charlie doesn't respond, doesn't show that they were irritated. They're eyes flicker over the words before landing on Mason's signature on the bottom.
''You had six months. Why has it extended to a year?"
''Technical difficulties.''
Charlie raises their eyes at the other's snarky tone, wants Mason to feel fear under the cold stare but he's as stubborn as the supervisor that sits in front of him calmly.
''That's it?"
Mason shrugs.
''That's it.''
Lips open to allow a tongue to wet them before it slips back in Charlie's mouth, sitting back and shutting the folder before they reach over to their right side, having to lean considerably to the side to open the drawer they were trying to find. They bring out their things and stamp the folder loudly, Mason quietly letting out a relieved sigh before the folder is dropped in the pile titled ''Completed''. Charlie's secretary would have to come in to clear that up soon.
Before Mason can let himself out as easily as he let himself in, Charlie motions to the chair on the other side of the table, the leather seat sliding itself out and turning towards Mason. He sits, reluctantly, but he's where Charlie wants him. They sigh, pulling their average looking, dollar store bought reading glasses off the bridge of their nose and fold their fingers together to look at him properly, so he knows he's going to be scolded. He'd had this situation annually for the past eight years, ever since Charlie was in a commanding status.
Charlie never aged.
Mason's already rolling his eyes, but he's sitting formally. He can be snarky, talk back, but he's not going against what he's telling himself about how he sits and acts towards the other. Charlie scares him, he fears the other person, and has a good reason to.
Charlie simply separates their hands, as if they're quietly questioning what in good hell he was doing.
''You haven't grown out of this yet, Mason.'' they say. Mason's jaw clenches lightly. ''How long have you been in the IISO now? Twelve years?"
''Fourteen.''
''Fourteen. So since you were twelve, you've been doing this. And for eight of those, I've had to have this similar talk with you. You were eighteen when I first had to talk with you. Mason you're twenty-six!''
Charlie looks genuinely irritated, but they know as much as Mason that he isn't going to simply grow out of his repetitious way of procrasinating, even on the most desperate of cases and work. It'd been the same since he ever became a certified detective for the IISO. But Mason knows he's got nowhere else to turn to if he fails again. He's fucked after this year, or any amount of time that Charlie gives him for ''one more chance''. Charlie's the only one that can explain to the higher ups and Madame Archiver why he turns things in late, or doesn't do them collectively.
''Mason,'' their tone softens, but it still adds a flick of harshness to it to get a point across. ''This has simply become a matter of laziness. You're a very intelligent man, but you're... You're lazy.''
Mason knows. There's understanding and agreement in his eyes that gives his response for him before he can open his mouth to speak in response.
''I am.''
There's a pause. Charlie wasn't expecting him to agree so quickly, or to have such a sad, rather frightened and exhausted tone to how he spoke. The supervisor's face softens and they raise a hand to their face, setting their chin in their hand. This is the most relaxed that Mason's seen the other in the eight years he knew them, and its not in a good way. Charlie never showed exhaustion, but they definitely did now.
''We've gotten to the... Last chance basis. Again.'' they sound disappointed that its come to that. ''If you do at least the minimum amount of work in this next case, you'll be allowed to continue your job as a detective and will receive the same amount of payment as before. If not, this year will go to waste and we will be forced to transfer you to another location. And I already know that you fucking hate the idea of that.''
He doesn't need to speak.
Charlie sits up properly again and digs through things before handing over a simple slip of paper to Mason, a description with a photo beside it. Its one of their own detectives, listed as missing.
''David Bohliff. He was researching and following a case of demonic attacks inflicted upon other detectives on various sorts of cases, whether they were false alarms of supernatural occurences or plain as day summonings, the demons seemed to know that the people there were IISO agents. Two weeks after being put on the case he mysteriously disappears, doesn't even leave a letter to his twelve year old daughter that he's been raising alone for the past four years or tell her anything. She simply wakes up one morning and her father isn't there.''
Mason's staring at the man's face in the photo, burning it into his memory.
''I've been told that you've got a limit of months to find this man and his fellow detectives. But I can't tell you how many.''
''Who's giving you orders now?"
''The higher ups directly.''
Shit hits the fan and Mason knows with the sound of the higher-ups in the other's words that he's in deeper than before. A direct order, not passed through or by.
''They visited you?" Mason raises his eyes.
Charlie's nodding.
''One of them did, showing me a signed document stating that you've got a certain amount of time before this case can be finished or you're going to be shipped off elsewhere. Away from Officer Youn and Detective Baines.''
He's reading over the paper again in half the time it took him last time.
''The other documents are currently being held by Youn. You will want to speak with him before speaking with Detective Baines. She will be your partner during this case.''
The chair scoots out from the table, Mason being tipped out before he's stepping back towards the door.
''Mason.'' he stops himself, looking towards the supervisor. They're pushing the reading glasses back on their nose. ''The IISO is expecting a lot from you.''
--
Mason's ignoring the massive plaques on the wall that read out IISO as he's making his way down to the training facility for the officers, where Officer Youn should be. He saved Officer Youn's ass five years ago and only three did he find what he wanted to do.
Be a detective like Mason.
They're three years apart, the officer's twenty-three. There's an odd relationship between them, nothing close to brothers but more like a bickering couple, Detective Baines stating frequently that maybe they were a couple. Mason could understand her point of view, Youn was also becoming quite close over the years as well.
He's pushing the doors open into the facility, IISO on one side of the wall, closest to the bleachers. It's a gymnasium, big enough for two basketball courts with a obstacle course outside. They're all inside, dark blue shirts with gold badges pasted onto the breast, directly over the heart with shorts on and running shoes. The instructor, Mr. Factor, was becoming an overweight, middle-aged man who Mason could tell was beginning his mid-life crisis. Factor seemed to have trained everyone in the facility, since the dawn of time. Factor looks over first, and he's unamused and unimpressed to see Detective Weller crossing the well polished wooden floor towards him.
Factor meets him halfway, raising his hand to signal to his class to continue the jumping jacks they were doing. With his hands on his hips, Factor comes up to Mason, the detective holding his paper to his chest.
''What the hell are you doing here?" he sounds more confused but his tone's got a bite of hostility to it. ''I'm trying to keep these trainees focused.''
Mason simply nods at the second statement.
''I understand. I'm here for Officer Youn.''
''He's not done with his training yet.''
''It's an urgent matter involving myself and future detective Youn. Please get him for me.''
Mason's not taking any shit, especially without the knowledge of when his deadline is. Factor's expression is becoming more twisted but more comical and hilarious to Mason before he turns back to his class and yells.
''Greet Detective Weller!"
They all stop immediately, feet pulled together and chests puffed out, chins raised high before they greeted him in unison.
''Welcome Detective!"
He wonders if that's protocol for them to do now or just if Factor made it protocol. Mason's following Factor by a good five feet behind towards the class on the right side of the gymnasium, nodding to them as he approaches. His eyes are moving over every face and every well structured pose before his sight lands on Youn, third row, fourth to the center of the row of ten. Seven by ten rows of cadets, most itching to become detectives. It was a difficult process, Mason already knew but he'd been handed it on a silver platter when he became of age to join the cadets.
Mason keeps watching him and is nearly about to pull his eyes away for Factor to excuse Youn before he notices the other turn his eyes towards him, just enough. He knows who Weller is, he's a close friend to Weller. Youn turns his eyes back, having heard the conversation that Mason and Factor had before Factor finally requests Youn from the group.
He slips out, comes up towards Factor and pulls himself back into his constrained position, absolutely perfect. His back was straight, shoulders squared, hands at his sides and his chin arched up. He's doing the hardest work imaginable to become a detective.
''Speak with the detective outside.'' Factor basically spits detective from his mouth, Youn stepping aside as Mason leisurely approaches them, paper still lightly resting against his chest. Mason pats Factor's shoulder, smiling at him before he nudges Youn towards the exit. Youn's marching towards the exit, Mason following him as his eyes stayed focused with Factor's.
The doors squeak open, the older male finally turning his eyes away to give Mason the chance to do the same. He hears Factor give the order to the rest of the class to take a break as he walks toward Youn, Youn holding the door open for him. Mason steps out and out into the sun, enjoying the change of hot hair to a mellow cool before Youn approaches him.
''Mason Weller,'' the younger man is smiling. Mason smiles in return.
''Dorian Youn.''
Dorian's wearing the shorts with dark blue shirt as well, his hair's short and the light scar on the right side of his mouth is crinkling in his smile.
''Here for the documents?" Dorian asks, brushing past him and towards the locker room doors. Mason feels the hair on his arm stand on end beneath the uniform coat as the other does so, nodding lightly as the younger man brings him closer to the light blue door. Mason follows him into the darkened room, made entirely of stone with tile showers on the far side, stalled bathrooms on the right wall with the lockers lined the rest of the way.
They're assigned alphabetically so Dorian's is closest to the door, the A's starting on the far side and the Z's ending beside the door. He puts in the code and unlocks it, opening up the metal door. Mason has a melancholic emotion flow over him as he stands in between the lockers, noticing where his locker was which still had an initial grated in the blue paint. Dorian turns back to him, a black, three ring binder in his hands which had an official document on the front within the plastic covering. It stated who to call if it was lost.
It's set in his open palm, Mason turning it towards himself to find both Dorian and his name listed on the front. He opens it, looking inside and unclips the binder to place David on top. There are four more names following his and seven after that, either having been attacked or put on the case to suddenly decide to resign and speak no further about their reasoning.
''Weird case,'' Dorian says, rummaging through his locker to check that that was all he needed to give to the other man. Mason's lifting his eyes to him, closing the binder at the same time that Dorian shuts his locker. ''Sudden demonic attacks and several resignations from the case. You're lucky you've been given it.''
He's lucky to have been given any case at all at this point of his career.
''Why'd they hand off the documents to you and not to Baines?"
Dorian shifts his body and crosses his arms, setting his shoulder against the locker to lean.
''No one wants to come into the locker room. I'm a trainee as well, nearly to my fourth and final year of strenuous finals. Charlie said that they wanted me to keep the papers protected until you were done with your last case.''
''How long have you had them?" Mason rests the binder under his arm, nudging his coat uncomfortably.
''Two weeks?" Dorian thinks, eyes flicking to the ground before he nods. ''Yeah, around two weeks. Charlie said that the higher-ups gave them the case directly after Bohliff got kidnapped. But so far, Charlie, Roma, you and I are really the only ones that know about this. Besides Andrew Parrish. He's an Oregon detective being shipped over soon. All of his information is in the binder too.''
''No wonder you got one this big.''
Mason was never as prepared as Dorian for things like this. But this just showed how prepared Dorian was to take on cases and step into Mason's shoes. He was prepared, he was ready to face the difficulties of being an IISO detective. The older detective stands back and Dorian pushes off the lockers, having to get back to his training or both of their heads would be taken by Factor.
He's stepping out into the sunlight with Dorian when he pauses, gently taking Dorian's arm. The younger man looks up at him, Mason finding his words.
''I'll call you when I have a lead on this case, alright?" he says. ''I'll be with Roma, but we could always use a third.''
His grip is very light and soft, Dorian giving him a smile.
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