I spent twelve years on the ‘Force, and in my entire time there I only ever met three people who I fully believed actually cared about what they were doing. I've known Brakka Bradshaw since we were kids, but she's always been too headstrong for her own good. She's got about a dozen medals for bravery, but just as many demerits for ignoring orders. There's Captain Taggart, my old boss from the 141. He was responsible for starting a bunch of reintegration programs and social welfare initiatives in our district, but they always died off after a while. Turns out it's hard to get funding for anti-recidivism strategies when your precinct's budget is based on arrest numbers. And Eli, well...
There was a loud click and Detective Brooks shot awake. Disoriented, he pulled his head off the metal desk and looked around the darkened office. He spun around in his chair to face a goblin woman who had just entered the room, pushing a yellow cart that was a full foot taller than her. Brooks relaxed as the steel door shut behind her; it was just Vunvi, the station's custodian. She put her earbuds in and nodded to him, the only other person in the room. Brooks stood up and stretched. He'd been working on the Akkadi Manufacturing case for days now, and had been putting in overtime almost every night. It seemed like a run-of-the-mill corporate fraud case — shipments of robots that were allegedly delivered to warehouses that didn't exist, orders made from fake corporations for models they didn't offer — but something about it felt off. Every lead they found turned out to be a dead end, but then again every megacorp executive trying to embezzle or launder money would attempt to cover their tracks. Brooks couldn't quite place what was wrong, but if there was one thing he knew from all his years in the Security Force, it was to always trust his gut. Right now though, that gut was complaining that he'd been working overtime and hadn't had any dinner.
As Brooks tossed on his jacket and stepped out into the cold winter air of First Bastion, he checked his phone. [ONE NEW VOICEMAIL - ELLIOT HARRISON, 6:33 PM]. He played the message as he walked home.
"Hey, AJ!" came over the phone's speaker. "It's me! Just wanted to check in and make sure we were still on for movie night tomorrow. I'm going to the store tonight before they close, so if you've got snacks you want then let me know. You're probably still at work though, so just send me a message when you get a chance. Oh, that reminds me! You remember that guy I told you about, the one who knows all the robotics stuff? He finally got back to me, and I think I made a huge breakthrough in the Akkadi case! I'll tell you all about it tomorrow on the way to work. If I told you now, you'd be up all night worrying about it. Don't even try to deny it, I know you. Alright, well I'll let you go now, just message me when you can. See you tomorrow - love you!"
Brooks chuckled to himself. Eli was right, as usual. Even before they started dating, Eli could read him like an open book. He just had a way with people, which is probably why he was precinct 141's best detective. At least, he was in Brooks' eyes.
It wasn't too long before Brooks found himself back home. It was a fairly small studio apartment, but that suited him just fine. He never had a ton of material possessions, and this was a smarter choice on a detective's salary anyways. Brooks pulled some leftovers out of the fridge and put them in the microwave. With any luck, Eli's lead would be just the break they needed to finish out this case. If not, well… he wasn't sure they'd ever be able to solve it.
The next morning, Brooks arrived at the sidewalk outside Eli's apartment building. With chilled fingers, he texted Eli ["Here"] and waited. And waited. One minute turned into five, turned into ten and Brooks felt that uncomfortable nagging sensation he always got when something was wrong. Eli was usually glued to his phone; why hadn't he come down yet, or at least responded? Brooks followed another resident into the building and stepped into the elevator, silently praying that he'd just overslept.
Brooks stepped out of the elevator in front of Eli's apartment. Hesitantly, he rapped a knuckle on the door. "Eli, it's me, are you ready to g-" His question was interrupted as the door squeaked ajar from his knock, and Brooks' nostrils filled with an all-too-familiar metallic scent. In the center of the room was a blond half-elven man, face-down in a pool of blood. Instantly and automatically, Brooks' training took over. In one quick motion his service pistol was drawn from a shoulder holster and he pulled the radio off of his belt. "10-54, possible fatality! Need immediate medical assistance at 4300 East Silver street, apartment 2706!" Brooks clipped the radio to his belt and stepped through the doorway, sweeping the apartment with his weapon. His mind was moving at a mile a minute, but he had to stay calm. There was no sign of a struggle, and after a couple seconds Brooks was confident there was nobody else there. "Clear!" he yelled instinctively. He holstered his weapon and ran to the body in the middle of the room. As he turned it over, his worst fears were realized. Staring back at him with lifeless eyes was Elliot.
I… to be honest, I don't really remember a lot of what happened after that, just bits and pieces. The psychiatrist said that shock can cause memory loss. From what Captain Taggart told me afterwards, they found me covered in Eli's blood, trying to resuscitate him using the medkit from the bathroom. They had to pull me off so the actual paramedics could get to him. Of course, it didn't matter — he'd been gone for almost seven hours by the time I got there. After they'd taken my statement, Taggart put me on leave for two weeks. Said I was too involved, that I wouldn't be able to act rationally, and the best thing I could do was to spend some time processing it. I understand why he did it but I hated going on leave, feeling useless the entire time. Brakka visited a couple times, and honestly that might've been the only thing that kept me sane. A week in, the techs were finally done with the crime scene. I had to go with his parents to help clear out his apartment. Stepping foot back in there was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. But while we were moving his stuff, I'd found something in his safe. A brass orb, a bit larger than a golf ball and etched with runes. I suspected that was the piece of evidence he mentioned the night he called me. I kept hold of it to turn in when I went back to work, and at the time I was surprised none of the investigators found it. I figured out why when I showed up at work the next week.
Brooks opened the wooden door to Captain Taggart's office. It was as cluttered as he remembered it, with several rolls of PSA posters leaning against too-full filing cabinets. The captain sat at his desk, staring at a form on his computer. As Brooks entered, the dwarf turned to him. He looked even more burnt-out than Brooks remembered, and what little hair he had on top of his head seemed a touch greyer than before. "Oh," Taggart spoke up. "You're back already." Brooks responded in a professional, practiced tone. "Detective Brooks, reporting for duty, sir. My leave is finished and I'm ready to resume my work." Taggart sighed, and gestured for Brooks to close the door and sit down. "Aye, that's what I was afraid of." "...Sir?" "Detective, there's no easy way to say this," said Taggart. He took off his reading glasses and set them on a stack of unfinished paperwork. "The day after you left, Elliot's… Detective Harrison's case got transferred. To Department 86."
Department 86 really only existed on paper. It wasn't connected to any physical location or type of crime. Everyone called it "the graveyard", because that's where cases went to die. Anything that SecFor couldn't solve—or chose not to solve—got transferred there to keep the numbers up. Once a case got sent to Department 86, that was it; the investigation was over, and there were no answers for you or for the victims.
"And as of last Tuesday," continued Taggart, "the case has been officially closed. 86 ruled it a suicide. I'm sorry." Brooks gave a half-hearted, choking laugh. "Two gunshots from behind and they called it a suicide? They're not even pretending to solve cases any more, are they?" "Look, this isn't what I wanted either, but these orders came from on high. Commissioner Gellson authorized the transfer himse-" "Are you kidding me?" Brooks interrupted, raising his voice. "Your best detective got executed in his own home and the brass wants you to look the other way because of what, some bullshit office politics?" "I don't know why," said Taggart. His tone was quiet, exhausted. He could barely make eye contact with the man on the other side of the desk. "The powers that be have, as usual, decided not to tell me anything about what's going on. I'm sorry, Brooks, but it's completely out of our hands now. There's nothing anyone here can do." Brooks was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "That's for damn sure." He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a steel badge, tossing it onto the desk.
Taggart sat upright, looking at the badge and back to Brooks. "James, please. I know you two were partners, but don't throw away your career over this."
"What other choice do I have? Just go back to work like nothing happened? Completely ignore the fact that at any time, some asshole at HQ can tell me to give up a case and all I can do is say ‘yes sir'? Should I just keep my head down and fill out all the paperwork on the chance that maybe someday _I_ can sit on the other side of that desk and then I'll finally have a chance to do something that actually _matters_? Or am I going to keep getting stonewalled even then?"
Taggart looked as if he was about to say something, but stopped. He looked at his desk and sighed. The dwarf opened a drawer and pulled out a form, handing it to Brooks. A letter of retirement. "Fill this out, then head down to the armory to check in your weapon."
Brooks accepted the form and nodded to Captain Taggart. As he turned to the door to leave, Taggart spoke up again. "James… you're not the only one hurt by this. I need you to believe that I did _everything_ that I could to keep this case. It just wasn't enough."
Brooks turned back to the Captain. "I never doubted that, sir."
"I'm also obligated to remind you that the Security Force doesn't look kindly on people who try and take the law into their own hands. That being said…" Taggart leaned forward over his desk. "If you find the son-of-a-bitch who did this, tell ‘em the 141 remembers."
Brooks gave a slight smile as he left. "Yes sir."
As the door to his office closed once more, Captain Taggart examined the mountain of reports, forms, and orders from his superiors that cluttered the desk. He sighed, and picked up a pen. There was still work to be done.