Love; Affliction

Social gatherings are a pitiful affair, the venue is tasteful but almost stereotypical in its appointment, extravagant centerpieces with flowers and golden accents, swaths of velvet curtains against the walls and the liveliness in the hall when the wealthy conversate against one another is distasteful to hear at moments like these, where the silence should preferably be louder than words, the eerie creaking of heavy boots above the plain wooden tiles is certainly audible, and the mystery of it all is never not enticing. "Stay put everyone! We bring you no harm", Jason declares, cautiously tucking away his hand gun into the waistband of his jeans, his belt doing an excellent job at providing stable area. It takes only a slight duration of time for people to crane their head backwards to acknowledge his presence, and the group of officers behind him steadily inviting themselves inside. The crowd erupts in gasps, and disturbingly loud chatter, even shrieks at a given point, that is, when a cop brings his gun out, hastily sliding his aim from one corner to the other across the fine hall. "Remain seated, everyone! I repeat, remain seated. We're cops".There's audible confusion and shock from the panicked throng as they carefully take their seat and acknowledge the dangling badge on the blue uniform they're wearing. Voices slowly dull and further steps are taken swiftly until they halt abruptly. "Elijah Stilson, please identify yourself.", Jason continues. The crowd painfully goes mute. Heads turn around to face one another, in a hasty attempt to discover the said man. Jason looks around, skimming through the hall, carefully trying to match the details of the culprit through the rough sketch on his hand-notebook. "There's no running now, fella", he exclaims as he examines the room quietly, cops behind him slowly taking their guns out. The people who refuse to believe they'll be unharmed, gasp in utter source of distress. "It's not me, I swear", a father of two shrieks as a gun is positioned near his vicinity. His children are seated across him, eyes overflowing with unshed tears. It takes Jason rightful evidence to be proven wrong and he gives a small nod, as an apology, gradually making his way to the other tables. There's minor inconveniences during his search, like the way the location of the said culprit, mentioned by the headquarters doesn't seem to be genuine because there's barely any suitable men in the mentioned hall. Given sketch of how the culprit looks like, matches none of how the citizens look like and the unfortunate turn of events perplexes him greatly. It takes them exactly forty five minutes more, thoroughly analysing the culprits exact location, and it must've been pure providence because through the corner of someone's eye, a man swiftly makes his way to the counter, hand in pocket as he desperately; anxiously waits for his change and on receiving it, tries to pull on the handle of the glass door, conspicuous evidence of a tattoo painting his neck freshly. "Halt!", Jason screams, and it only takes a few seconds for good measure for the culprits eyes to blow wide, pupils dilating like of a sly criminal. He hurries his movements, slowly exiting (attempts to) until a hand reaches the hem of his hood, pulling him back in a clean, swift motion. "Officer Jane! Arrest him!", a voice through the intercom in Jason's pocket envelops, louder by the end of his sentence when the offender fights, sloppy movements trying to release the firm grip on his body. "Elijah Stilson, you are under arrest for unlawful drug possession, tripling your sentence as you've been a fugitive for three years now. We have a warrant, therefore, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, could be used against you in court", A voice makes it's entry, handcuff swinging around the owner of the voice's index finger as she pulls on his nape, the action of arresting him, metal nips onto his skin excruciatingly, and a following bellow at the act of the hand cuff tightening around his wrists sends a wave of ecstasy down her spine. "Come on", she drags the collar of his shirt, despite the reluctance in his movements, and throws him in possession of the rest of the police officers, dragging him towards the car. She stays back, hands engulfed around one another, feeling a presence next to her. "Took a while, didn't it?", Jason speaks, slightly chuckling at the amusement in her eyes as she processes their success. "Team 1 could have never", he adds haughtily. She laughs. "Good job". There's stars in his eyes when he returns a smile, soothing, almost never un-admirable. Jason is well-known for his perfection. Duties and responsibilities always completed on time. That also becomes the epitome of his popularity amongst their colleagues. No one could think he'd be any more faultless than he already was in another life (if there were), and Jane has never not agreed. They walk, collectively towards the police car, hopping at the back, noise of protest threatening to come out of the offenders mouths at the brutal act of the handcuffs getting further tightened than they already were. After all, reassuring and informing the captivity of a criminal was a priority, she believed (not until later on). "Let's go", Jason taps the trunk of the car to signal that they're ready. The car engine stirs to life, headed for the police headquarters. Jane's palms perspire with exhilaration and enticement at the remarkable news they have to offer. After all, they've managed to overcome the humiliation after two full years. ________ "I'm impressed, for the lack of words. It took time, but I believed you had it in you", Chief Hop says, laughing as he spoke. The cops who were titled successful bow in respect, gratitude and thankfulness. "Toast?", An officer offers, hand curling around a wine glass in a strong grip as he raises the glass above himself. Audible noise erupts in union as they all concur. "To Team 2's success", Jane smiles brightly, dark brown eyes narrowing in a slight sober-drunk expression as she raises her toast, all her colleagues followingly doing so. The night falters gradually, sun setting above them as they take their time, swinging back and forth on moving chairs and laughter filling the emptiness in their surrounding. Moments like these are wholesome, Jane thinks. To live in success, is to live in eternal contentment. "Alright", Chief says, as the day almost comes to an end. Sweat tricking down their spines with the how long they've been seated for, drastically far from reality. Jane takes a seat as he speaks up. "I've made up my mind, Team 1 doesn't get the new case", Chief says. He gazes at the faces of the officers, painted with perplexing expressions and anonymity and finds a reason to smile. "Murderer. Reported 5 murders since the past three months. He's been on a streak without getting caught", Chief mentions. There's a slight shiver in his words when he speaks, hair on the back of his neck erecting up at the mention of something so awfully, yet not at all recognizable. Jane and Jason look at one another and then back at the chief. She's doesn't find a reason to speak, but she asks anyway. "Why wouldn't Team 1 do it?", she asks, hesitantly. Trying to catch a criminal is never easy, she had deciphered a long time ago. She recalls the horrendous memory of her life being in absolute danger, dagger scraping her arms as she was set captive. He was wild. It was only a few months later that they were able to arrest the murderer, not expecting to be faced with yet another, disastrously terrible and life-threatening task. "Team 1 failed. They've made no progress, at all. This case is important, because the criminal is not an easy target. We have no idea how he looks like, we've only heard his voice, and his residential ID details says he resides in different countries depending on how severe the probability of him getting caught is", Chief exclaims, sighing and sharing the trauma through nothing but his raw expressions. Jane clenches the hem of her sleeve, a habit she had developed when she was stressed, anxious or a feeling she got when danger was near her doorstep, making them invite it in. Jason reaches a hand out and tangles his fingers with hers, smile reaching his features when she looks at him, as if to say 'It will be okay'. She smiles back shortly, but in a manner that says 'I know you're trying to help, but it makes no difference'. She inhales sharply. "He's a threat", Chief briefly speaks again. "I'll give you the details about his profile tomorrow morning. Please help me out with this guys. I know this is dangerous, but we need this risk. It's really gonna help us", He ends his statement on a motivational note, slowly getting up. The sound of his chair screeching backwards on the floor makes Jane's toes curl beneath her shoes. She's hesitant, indecisive and she knows the risk they're taking, but she ponders, and they're cops. Saving people is their job, and she takes priority in saving lives. She makes her mind, feeling more at ease at the optimism in her decision. There's a variety of emotions that flood her at that moment, heart pounding in a detrimental way beneath her ribcage, that drives her to feeling dèja vu all over again. A thought she tries hard to remember, and then a voice from her right distracts her train of thoughts, her mind followingly going blank when an officer asks, "What's his name?". The chief halts his lazy walking movements and retracts back to where he was standing in front of his chair. He responds falteringly, "Michael Stewart" An unexplainable, unidentifiable familiarity unlocks something in her brain. Her hands clench around nothing and it's only fair the thrum of her heart quickens its pace even more.