Birds were chirping, awakening the world into another bright hot day. One of those birds, a mockingbird, sat down upon the wet ground.

  The grass sparkled in the soft sun rays like new glass. It was a classical morning with the afterburn of the summer still in the air.

  In the park was the same. The same grass, the willow trees and a small easy to miss pond. To which a trail of water was leading. Not a stream, it was too little water there. The trail ended at a sack of clothes and in it a body, sitting and stale. Looking at the water and perhaps it was the water that was copying him in his stillness.

  Adrian sat there casting his glance down into the shallow water. And nothing did happen. It was more like a painting than anything. Simply frozen in time and without purpose in on of itself, but of what the observer forces upon it.

  The water was reaching out for him, his own reflection. He saw it, he thought he saw it and something more. It all seemed it could be there at a touch of his fingertips and all he has to do is reach out to know whether it's real.

  He did, he let his hand slid down the side of his pant in between his legs and down. It didn't quite reach it yet. He lowered himself whole and saw his reflection.

  Not of calmness and soullessness, but twisted beyond recognition, screaming and contorting so much so it gained animal like ferocity and likeness. Then the ripples came and he withdrew his fingers.

  The image came broken and back to normal to reflecting his broken state. He ran his hand through his hair and stood up. The sun has kissed him good morning, and he knew this better be the last morning out of jail for some special one.

  Adrian took out his phone and ignored the new web structure on its display. He unlocked it and before he could call the police he saw an unread text.

  'Hey Andy, I know we wanted to have that dinner, but I forgot I gave my word to my roommate that I'll be attending this one party. And it's a tradition as I've heard to attend it. I was wondering if we can maybe do the dinner some other time if you'd like.' And Kathrin followed it up with a smiley face and a heart.

  His neutral look was about to falter, something was tearing out of him and he didn't let it go. No, not until it's all done then it's okay. He said to himself.

  'We can go to that party. It's the one on the Jarwood street, right? 8 o'clock arrival and you'll never wake up after this was the slogan on the posters no?' He did a quick reply that he’ll be there and opened contacts.

  1-1-2 and his thumb hovered over the call button. A ridiculous thought was running laps in his head, what if someone will notice what happened here to me? His hands were shaking and with a look up at the peaking dormitory from above the leaves he pressed the button.

  He flexed his fingers in relief, breathed in… and out a long sigh.

  The phone rung once and was picked up. "112. What's your emergency?"

  "I was assaulted and tortured. Can-"

  "Your location sir?"

  "A park near Southlane Dor-" And the line went static. He put the phone down and saw the call had ended.

  He called again.

  This time he heard it ring once, twice and all the way until it forced him off the connection.

  "What a great morning. A problem with connection just when I need it. Perfect." He pocketed the phone and looked at himself.

  He pondered for a while to go back into his dormitory and change, but decided against it. There's going to be a great hustle and bustle there right about now. Becoming a topic of today's talks wasn't one of his priorities, at least for now.

  When it's all over and with those four behind bars then it'll be different, much different. Those news will be much more bearable then than now.

  He walked all the way to the nearest police station; his phone was still capable of navigating him.

  Adrian right away rushed inside. There was a receptionist there and a man in his fifties seated waiting for his turn to come.

  Instead of rushing forward as he first planned, he sat down. The torture was already over, now was time. All the time in the world for him to report him. It's not like they can stop it now that it has already happened, but they for sure can penalize the criminals.

  "Next." The reception lady called out, not too strong. After all it's a job there's no need for shouting.

  The man said not glancing up from a stack of papers he was reading. "You should go first. Your case looks to be more serious than mine." The man looked at Adrian and his exposed wrists and at the dried blood and red imprints on them.

  Adrian retracted his hands into his pockets and smiled at the man. "You can go in first. I've already waited long enough; some five minutes won't make a difference now."

  Revenge is a dish best served cold.

  The man wanted to protest again, but was cut short by a stronger and more annoyed "Next."

  The man stood up. "Take care buddy. I hope everything will work out for you." He said while going away.

  "Thanks, you too, buddy." He let the last word remain on his tongue. A disdain for it like never before in his life and he didn't even know why.

  Adrian waited next fifteen minutes; an intermittent music played as the receptionist scrolled her phone. Adrian followed suit and too took out his phone because he still has a thing to get.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He opened the university's web page and search there for a name. It wasn't difficult to find it as he knew business lessons was what that fucker was taking. Nicolaus Hill. From there it was more difficult to find Rebecca Ironheart. Her name took him for hunting on social media as she wasn't in those classes.

  In that hurry he hadn’t noticed neither the time passing nor how the app looked nor the slight voice in his head as if a migraine.

  The man went out the hallway, passed the reception and left. His walk now a bit more energetic than before at having dealt with his case or at the very least pushed it a tad bit forward.

  Now it was wait again, this time two minutes and the "Next." came like on a horse.

  Adrian didn't know how he got into the office, his thoughts already preoccupied by... everything that has been done to him and what can he say and what he'll keep to himself. Like little souvenirs that may at times come back to open those now fresh wounds and aggravate his flesh. All he did know he passed through that last door and there he sat and let go.

  Not of all, but enough.

  Enough for it all to seem normal again and for them to get enough years so, these animals can't live with humans. They're too different, that’s were his thoughts.

  And a Police Officer listened, legs that were at first resting on the desk got down as the conversation was progressing. His hands though remained clasped.

  "Five perpetrators. Is what you're saying?"

  "Indeed." Adrian pushed his chair forward.

  "Three accomplices and -"

  "One." Adrian stared at the officer. “The men tracked me down and beat me, then took me away."

  "Yes, and can I know their names?"

  "Two I know. Nicolaus Hill and Rebecca Ironheart. The other two men should be able to be identified by proximity and the description I gave you, no?"

  "Yes, indeed." The officer closed his eyes for a brief second when he decided something and opened them. He stood up and went around the desk. "About the homeless man."

  "Yes?"

  "We won't be able to do anything. Maybe after they are..." He spoke quieter and quieter until he reached the door and the lock sung its soft ting.

  Adrian in the meanwhile was silently observing him and showed no signs of repulsion upon such strange act. He didn't know it himself what it was fear, anger, curiosity or simply he didn't care what that was about? That must be it, he simply didn’t care.

  "Mr. Greyhound-"

  "Mr. Grey is enough."

  "Mr. Greyhound I insist. It's one of my peeves, you see I can't help myself but be and act as the paper dictates." To that Adrian said nothing, even if it sounded ridiculous. What mattered most was for this to be dealt with. Dealt with them and them being forgotten by him and the world. That was what he wished for.

  "You see Mr. Greyhound, I think I won't be able to help you and neither anyone in this city. Let me speak then you can ask your questions." He settled into his leather chair, pulled out a cigar from a top drawer and lit it. "You don't know what you walked into. That can be observed by you simply being here."

  "I know what I came here for. To demand justice." Adrian said irritation overflowing from him, every fibre of his being waiting to be released and choke this so-called defender of civil rights.

  The police officer took a puff, leaned back his head and with great satisfaction released a slow chimney of smoke. "To demand justice, huh. Listen closely as this might - no, it will decide your life or death."

  Adrian wanted to cackle, but forced it back in and eased himself as much as he could. A semblance of rationality returned, waiting to be cut again.

  "This is Noxpolis. A city of crime. And not just some crime, but the organized kind, the insidious crime where brother doesn't recognize brother where intrigue is a must and a mask." The police officer opened his palms out and heaved in a magician's gesture. "And I want to formally welcome you as the Vice-Chief of WNPolice department."

  All that was missing was a bow, a hat and the applause of the audience. None of which he got, instead a sneer congratulated him.

  "So much so for 'acting as the paper dictates'."

  "I'm trying to help you, boy and you're not making it easy for me." He returned to puffing his cigar. "There were many before you, many will be after you. Do you know though what you all have in common?"

  "Enlighten me."

  "This defiance, if you're pushed you return to the system you so disdainfully hate and want to get out. Yet you're seeking its protection. It isn't there and now you won't be able to do anything because all that was given to you by the system. The interconnecting of society so it can function can be taken away by one's one mere word. You haven't even begun to play and you've already lost."

  Adrian glanced across the table at the ring of keys. "Open the doors I'm going out."

  "Like now, Mr. Grey, or whatever is you want to be called. What if I say, no?"

  Adrian straightened up, the feeling returning like some kind of promotion.

  The police officer took a puff, glanced at the remaining half a cigar and put it in an ashtray where it was wafting its smoke like an incense. "Then you're without any choice. You're depending on me as a part of the system, that I will act as is normal, acceptable."

  "Why?" Adrian muttered, his nails digging into the cheap chair. The fragments they came back. He couldn't care anymore and didn't want to care anymore.

  "I'm sure you've heard this one before." Adrian lunged at the officer, both his hands going for his exposed neck. Adrian felt his skin, his tightened muscles, taut veins bound like ropes.

  He froze, his mind blank, muscles limp. He couldn't continue that much he knew, instinctually his body knew what that cylinder pressed against his temple represented. He was looking up a gun barrel.

  The police officer's finger was curled up around the trigger a breath away from blowing his brains out and a shout away from having a cleaning lady in here.

  "You're crazy." Adrian managed to say.

  "No, I'm in control. Stronger so to speak. Maybe I will be the only person to give you this lesson so take it to heart. Just this one sentence." The officer rested his finger. "Nothing equals strength in Noxpolis."

  Adrian put down his hands.

  "So, I leave you this question you must answer for yourself. Do you stay and risk it all or are you content with it as things are with your clear future ahead of you?"

  Adrian opened his mouth to answer.

  "Don't. It's for you to know. Now take those keys and get out."

  Adrian gave him a hard look. It revealed nothing more than he already knew. A hypocrite cop that has his gears loose, he thought. Nevertheless, he did as was told and took the keys and unlocked the door.

  Behind him the officer holstered his pistol.

  Adrian walked the hallway, around the reception and unto the street. He heard the sliding door close behind him and he turned around to look.

  It was indeed all real and the police officer was standing in there waving to him while smiling. A big toothy smile.

  Adrian departed.

  "Again, one of those?" Asked the receptionist.

  The officer didn't answer and watched as Adrian's back got further and further till, he disappeared behind one of the street corners.

  "Sucks, the year went on so quick and it’s here again.” The receptionist sighed and went back to looking at her phone. “One thing I don't understand is. Why they all have to be so headstrong?"

  "That's the beauty of youth. They're young, optimistic, cream of the top with big ambitions. Headstrongness is a second nature for them. A trait which got them here in the first place."

  "Really?"

  "Yes." He said. "He might not look like it now, but that's the emotions speaking. He's like a man thrown into a well. Clawing at the walls, begging the heavens, pleading for something and anything."

  "Right, right Vice-chiefman. But what do we do with him?"

  "We?" He looked into the distance where he last saw him. "We will see."

  "K. If he's dead than it'll be your job to bag him up. I'm just saying, you too have to help us with the clean-up and not just be doing your papers."

  "I did my fair share when I was a green ear. Besides the truly dirty work is done by the media and not us."

  To that the receptionist nodded.

  "Anyway, be as you were."

  "Will do."

  She blew out a bubble-gum bubble and tapped away at her phone. It was impossible not to get a glance as he was turning. She was texting someone and he had an inkling who it might be.

  He clicked his tongue and walked to his office.