Bag of Bones (Korbin)

[Jericho Gayanelo]

Jeircho was sitting at his desk, dressed in complete police man’s uniform. He was doing some paperwork, but in all honesty he could barely concentrate because of the white duffle bag that was propped on the other end of the table, as far from Echo as possible, as if held some sort of plague. It was of course a topic of inquiry in the 76th precinct; a lot of people were asking what was in it. Echo jokingly replied that it was just a bag of bones. The others laughed, commented that getting a decent answer out of Echo was impossible, and they thankfully let the entire thing alone. Little did they know that Echo’s joke was actually true. Yes, he did have a bag of bones with him.

Jericho had no idea where it came from. After the entire draining experience with the werewolf Korrick, he had just found it inside his car. A duffle bag full of human remains! What the hell would his supervisors think? At the least they’d probably think he had a twisted fetish and was raiding the evidence lab, or at the worst they could accuse him of murder. The bones were bad news and Echo should have thrown them out the first chance he got but he didn’t. Why? Because for a Skinwalker like him, the bones were practically gold! They were charred a little but nothing about them was disgusting, and they weren’t stinking up the place. They were in perfect condition and perfect to be used to create some actual decent magical bone powder. Even his grandfather’s ghost had inspected the bones and said that Echo wouldn’t find any better specimen than what was inside that bag. With the bones he could actually perform a lot more spells now. Echo wanted to turn them into the magic powder, but he hadn’t still. The entire thing was too seedy and he was afraid that something unfortunate might happen. Plus it was still too close to grave-robbing for him to be comfortable with.

Could that kid have anything to do with the bag? Jericho couldn’t imagine how a young boy would suddenly have access to a crematory, because that was the only way Jericho could think anybody could get their hands on a pile of half-charred bones. After he had found the contents of the bag he drove to the nearest funeral parlor with a crematory service and asked if they had seen a little boy or if anything weird happened in their establishment. They said everything had been normal, and that little boys generally stayed clear of their funeral parlor because of obvious reasons. Echo could have checked the other crematoriums, but he already knew that he wouldn’t find anything different. The main question wasn’t even How, it was Why.

So here he was, dragging along a bag of human bones with him to work and effectively reducing his productivity down to 50%. He tried to zone the thing out of his thoughts and get back to the paperwork he had to finish. He had needed to report those shots that he had fired at Korrick that night, and Echo did get into a little trouble for that because he said he had fired at alley cats which had startled him. The head of his precinct thought it fit to dump extra paper work on his desk for that. Echo let his head fall down on the desk with a distinctive thunk. Good deeds were supposed to be their own rewards, but sometimes Echo really wished some mana from heaven would fall down on his lap. The bones quickly came into thought, but he brushed it away. That mana was more of a headache than it was worth.

“Gayanelo!” a gruff voice shouted Echo’s last name while a large heavy hand suddenly dropped on his desk. He immediately shot back up but bnfortunately the paper was stuck on his forehead and, with as much dignity as he could muster, he peeled it off and set it neatly back down. Of all people it was the head of his precinct, Patrick O’Malley. The fat ginger-haired man was Irish, and still had a stiff accent to boot. Echo knew for the fact that this cop was crooked and had dealings with the O’Connels. He wasn’t a werewolf though. “The Chief of Police is here today, and I don’t know why but he wants to see you.”

Echo raised an eyebrow and half-opened his mouth to ask but the fat man bulldozed over him. “I just said I have no idea why! So don’t even bother asking. He’s in my bloody office, so you better hurry and you better do nothing to embarrass me boyo.” O’Malley left at that, his wide behind somehow managing to navigate through the grid of desks. What could the Chief of Police possibly want with him? Were the fired shots really that big of a deal? No, Echo knew the protocols and the Chief wouldn’t have come down here just for that.

His eyes wondered over to the white-duffle bag. Could it? Possibly? Crazier things have happened. The pristine-white duffle bag full of human bones was a far better cry than his old rucksack full of road kill. He didn’t know how it was possible, but the white bag made him feel a thousand times sicker than the sack of dead animals ever could.

[Korbin Kane]

Inside the office, Korbin Kane was pacing. Why was he pacing? He couldn’t bear to sit in the chair. He was almost terrified of the thought of soiling his pristine uniform by placing it within touching distance of that…that…thing. Was it even really a chair? It was old…worn…and had a very noticeable depression in the center of it. It was old leather and a steel frame, it had to be, because nothing less could have held the Captain of this precinct. Korbin just shuddered. He was not about to sit on that. Did he need to start enforcing a weight program? With one finger, Korbin wiped across the cabinet behind the desk, and stared at the results, the long line that seemed quite deep. Looking at his own chocolate brown finger, the dirt was so dark that he couldn’t even see it, it blended perfectly. He had to pinch his thump against his finger and rub them together over the floor, head tilted to the side to watch the particles falling. Paper work was all over the desk, and the coffee pot didn’t look like it had ever been cleaned, but was still being used. And the smell. Simply atrocious. Korbin kept his own office immaculate, just like his uniform. He saw it as a matter of pride in who he was, and despite numerous attempts of the secretaries and other civilian workers at Headquarters, he cleaned it himself. He didn’t even use his angelness, nope, he used good ole pine sol for the real wood, a nice vacuum, and plenty of old rags.

Apparently, the Captain here had very little pride in his office. Korbin knew exactly what Pattrick was doing with the O’Connels, but it was not worth dealing with at the moment. He had very little actual proof, and it would not go over well to reveal how he knew the things he did know. Besides, even though Korbin was generous with their pay, a man had to eat right? Korbin slid open the desk drawer, revealing a months’ worth of junk food filling up the bottom cabinet. It would last Pattrick a week at most. It seemed he did eat, and very much. Perhaps later he could find another reason to quietly dismiss the Captain. Maybe even let Jericho take the place, who knows.

His arrival had stirred up the office. He was well known for bringing the hammer down on discipline, but as far as everyone knew, nothing much had happened lately. It wasn’t time for inspections, they’d just had that. He didn’t come with a van so they couldn’t be getting new supplies…why was the Chief here? And then those closest to Jericho heard the summons, and the word spread like wildfire throughout the office. What did Jericho do? What was in the bag? “Good bye Jericho!” “We’ll miss you!!” “Give the Chief our love!” “And a reach around for me!” The voices followed Jericho all the way to the office.

Korbin’s head lifted from below the top of the desk. There was a chip hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and a mischievous grin on his face. There was a larger bag filled with an assortment of different types, and as he stood up, he finished off the chip and tossed Jericho the bag of Dorito’s. Everyone loved Dorito’s right? “Shut the door, if you would.” He was good at giving orders. He had a few millennia of practice at it too, he’d been Tria since well, forever. There were only two other ranks above his own, and of course, the Father himself. He had always known that humans didn’t always follow direct orders as well as Angels did, so he had to learn how to ask sometimes too. He did not need to throw around his authority and bark orders all the time. The best results came most often from the simple gesture of asking, rather than demanding.

“Have a snack, courtesy of our good Captain. I’m sure he won’t miss it.” He looked down pointedly, shutting the drawer with a knee. “Sit down.” There were a couple old brown leather chairs in front of the desk. “And put that bag behind your chair, I will need your attention for a while.” Yes, Korbin could read the anxiety on the man’s face, in his eyes, and it couldn’t have been all about meeting him. He would have to explain the nature of the gift, or Jericho would never use it. And he would need to use it in the future. For now, he would seem to not be aware of the depth or reason for Jericho’s anxiety. For all he should really know, there could be anything in there. He still stood behind the desk, his head slightly tilted as he assessed Jericho. His arms crossed behind his back, hands locking in the small of his lower back. He liked what he saw. This would be their first formal meeting and while he wished it could have been in his own office, here would have to do.

“You can be hard to track down when you are off duty, so I thought I would catch you here. I assume you weren’t doing anything too important no?” He smiled softly. Of course he knew Jericho had been assigned the paperwork. Shots fired had to be documented every time. But again, he hadn’t officially been told about anything. Such matters weren’t worth his attention as Chief. “I am sure you are wondering why I wished to speak with you. And we will get to that.” His body turned, hands unlocking from behind his back, only to fold across his chest loosely as he took a few steps to the right, now staring at the wall, opposite the side of the door. His shoulders were relaxed, head straight up again.

His head turned slightly, looking at Jericho over his shoulder. “Tell me, Jericho. What do you know about this city?” It might have been an odd question, but if that was odd, then the rest of their conversation was about to be very, very weird. He already expected what much of his answer would consist of, but again, he wanted to hear it from Jericho’s own words. What he really wanted to know was, did Jericho know about the Arc already? But there was no easy way of bringing that up.