Adrian ascended the worn, creaking stairs that led to the heart of the Police Department, the ominous echoes of his footsteps reverberating through the narrow corridor. The morning had broken, but it left Adrian feeling far from rested. The night's sleep, or rather the lack thereof, had left him with a persistent crick in his neck, a throb that extended upward into a burgeoning headache. His trusty but less-than-comfortable couch had offered little reprieve, and he'd spent the dark hours tossing and turning in futile attempts to find solace. By the time slumber had finally claimed him, the damage had been done. The posture he'd unknowingly assumed had taken its toll on his neck and back, leaving him feeling like he'd been through a back-alley brawl.
All thoughts seemed trivial compared to the one currently consuming his mind—the desperate need for the blackest, strongest coffee he could lay his hands on. As always, it would be consumed without a trace of sugar, a bitter elixir that jump-started his day.
Finally arriving on his office floor, Adrian found himself pondering the events of the previous day with Julian. Regret lingered in the recesses of his thoughts, urging him to offer an apology for his behavior, especially for the unceremonious departure that had left Julian stranded in the Northern District. Surely, he could have dropped him off closer to the Department, but such considerations now seemed inconsequential. Adrian also anticipated Julian's reaction, a curious mix of contrition and a potential apology of his own.
As he strolled toward the small kitchenette, the curious glances and whispers of his colleagues didn't escape his notice. The department's rumor mill was in full swing, the tale of his disagreement with Julian making its way through the ranks. He met the sidelong gazes of his coworkers with a stern, unyielding expression, causing them to avert their eyes and hastily return to their work. Adrian decided to pay these whispers no mind, instead focusing on the task at hand: brewing that much-needed coffee. He was well aware that his spat with Julian was likely to have reached the ears of the Chief, who no doubt harbored thoughts of a stern conversation with him. Yet, Adrian believed that most conflicts could be resolved peacefully.
Clutching a steaming cup of jet-black coffee in one hand and his ever-present hat in the other, Adrian returned to his office, bracing for the inevitable confrontation that awaited him. To his surprise, the room was vacant. He had expected to find Vincent and Julian already at their desks. It seemed, however, that they might be running late.
Adrian eased himself into his chair and gingerly took a sip of the scalding brew, feeling the heat sear his lips. Just as he was settling into the solitude of his office, a polite knock on the glass of the door marked the arrival of one of the department's secretaries. Adrian beckoned the secretary to enter, curiosity piqued by the interruption
"Detective Belinsky," came the familiar voice.
Adrian swiveled in his chair to face Jack, the weariness in his eyes momentarily concealed by a slight, tired smile. "Ah, Jack, just the man I needed. It seems they've forgotten to place the morning newspapers on my desk. Could you take care of that for me?"
"I'll look into it, sir," Jack replied, toying with a pen in his hand. "But Chief Lobakin would like to see you in his office. It's urgent."
Adrian sighed, a hint of cynicism coloring his words as he rose from his chair. "Ah, right on cue. Can't even savor a sip of coffee before these 'important' matters arise."
Jack's expression carried a touch of sympathy as he gave a slow nod.
"Very well, lead the way."
As they made their way through the precinct toward Chief Lobakin's office on the top floor, Adrian couldn't help but notice the curious glances from his colleagues. An inexplicable tension hung in the air, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had transpired, something far weightier than his recent spat with Julian. Otherwise, why the unnerving reaction from everyone? Adrian felt disoriented, a sensation he despised. He silently chuckled to himself, recognizing how he'd treated Julian in a similar fashion in recent weeks, which only deepened his remorse for his actions.
As they approached the door to Chief Lobakin's office, Adrian couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Jack, what's going on? Why is everyone staring at me?"
The secretary gestured toward the door, his expression unreadable. "The Chief will provide all the answers. Please, go on in."
With a nod of acknowledgment, Adrian entered the office as Jack closed the door behind him, the sense of impending revelation weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Behind the imposing, heavy wooden desk sat Chief Lobakin, his fingers entwined in thought. Adrian couldn't help but notice tiny beads of sweat glistening on the Chief's bald head, the few remaining hairs valiantly holding back droplets from staining the desk below. On the desk itself, a large plate of buns with salami sandwiches lay, a favorite among the police force. As Adrian approached, two figures emerged from the dimly shaded corner of the office, none other than Julian and Vincent. They stood tall and unwavering as Adrian was beckoned to sit before the Chief.
Adrian, his confusion growing, pointed toward Vincent. "What's he doing here?"
"Adrian, my boy," Herbert began with a hint of sorrow in his voice, "Would you like a bun?"
Adrian declined with a shake of his head, his eyes still trained on the Chief, awaiting an explanation.
"It pains me to say that from now on, all of your open cases will be reviewed, put on hold, and closed if deemed necessary by Vincent," the Chief finally replied.
Adrian, disbelief etched across his face, shot up from his seat in protest. "But Chief, we have a lead in the Alina Kopsky case! Julian and I are making progress—"
"You and Julian are onto nothing," Vincent interjected with a sinister smile. "It's over, Adrian."
"Silence!" Herbert Lobakin shouted, his anger uncharacteristically surfacing. As silence descended upon the room and Adrian reluctantly settled back into his seat, the Chief followed suit. He assumed a fatherly expression, tinged with disappointment.
"Adrian," Chief Lobakin began in a measured tone, "I remember when you first entered this room, not much older than Julian here. You were eager to solve cases, but more importantly, you were eager to serve our nation."
"I still am, Chief," Adrian replied, his gaze fixed on the floor.
The Chief shook his head, a fatherly sense of sorrow clouding his features. "You've been fighting the system for some time now, bending rules and boundaries at your discretion, and your battle with alcohol addiction..."
"Oh, spare me, Herbert. That snake has been feeding you lies as well," Adrian retorted, his gaze now icy as it settled on Vincent, who wore a smug half-smile.
"I am still your Chief, goddammit, and you will address me as such, Belinsky!" Herbert Lobakin thundered. "This is exactly what I mean. I don't care if you drink, but your professionalism has been slipping away, along with the number of cases you've solved."
"But Chief," Adrian began, only to be silenced by the Chief's raised hand.
"I could tolerate a lot, Adrian. Truly, we have a history that stretches back, and I placed a great deal of trust in you. But hiding crucial evidence? Evidence that could shake our nation if it fell into the wrong hands? Are you out of your mind, Belinsky?" Chief Lobakin's voice was a mix of anger and disappointment.
Adrian's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Lady Juliana's correspondence with Jeremy Alder."
In an instant, Adrian's gaze turned icy as it locked onto Julian, who stood in a distant corner, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I was going to inform you once I found a way to use them to help solve the case."
The Chief's voice remained stern. "This isn't an E.C.H.O. council of 'free thinkers' who act on whims. In this Department, we work together, especially on matters of national importance. You've failed me, Adrian, and that, I can tolerate. What's more painful is that you've disappointed me, boy."
Defeated, Adrian admitted, "I can give you the letters. They're in my desk."
"The Royal Department has already taken possession of them. At their request, all investigations related to Lady Juliana Zorkin and Alina Kopsky are to be halted, and..." Chief Lobakin paused.
"And?" Adrian pressed, meeting the Chief's teary gaze head-on.
"And your resignation must be filed immediately, boy," Herbert said somberly. "All the necessary paperwork has been prepared. I need you to hand over your badge now."
Adrian's heart plummeted, sinking deep into the tumultuous seas of his emotions. The weight of disappointment and betrayal bore down on him, threatening to break through the stoic facade he fought to maintain. Rising slowly, he reached for his badge, a symbol of his unwavering commitment, but it’s silver string clung stubbornly to his pocket. He tugged at it, each strained pull echoing the struggle within him. Finally, it yielded, and with a profound sense of resignation, he placed the badge on the desk. As he did, he made sure the crown faced Chief Lobakin, a silent testament to the years of partnership and comradery he shared with with Herbert and Police Department.
Herbert picked up the badge, the act laden with the weight of finality, and slid it into his jacket's inner pocket. "Hand your revolver to Jack and follow him to sign a few last papers," Chief Lobakin directed. Rising from his chair, he extended his hand to Adrian across the desk, his voice tinged with both formality and regret. "The Snigograd Central Police Department extends its heartfelt gratitude to you, Detective Adrian Belinsky, for the years of unwavering and selfless service. It was a privilege to work alongside you, and I wish you every success in your future endeavors, my boy."
Adrian hesitated, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to shake the Chief's hand. With one final glance into Herbert's familiar eyes, he nodded and turned away. His gaze fell upon his former colleagues. Julian's longing to step forward was visible, but Vincent's restraint held him back. As Adrian moved on, he uttered a solitary word under his breath, a searing indictment, "Traitor."
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