Detective Alice Lightgreen stood outside of the murderer’s door, with her gun in hand, and hoped that this time the snivelling little magical arsehole did not decide to just teleport the hell out of there. Again.
“You ready to go in?” Henry said, gun raised at the door. The rest of the Magic Team were positioned behind her, guns raised at the door. Another team were on the roof, setting the snare that would hopefully stop anyone from teleporting in or out of the zone for a good few hours. The whole block had been shut down, and people evacuated.
“I want to get this bastard,” Alice hissed, taking the safety off her gun and kneeling down on the step of the doorway.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Henry remarked, as he knelt down on the steps with Alice. Alice heard the Team cocking their vaporisers, ready to remove the door.
“On my mark,” Alice said, “three, two, one-”
“LOOKING FOR ME?” a gleeful voice shouted from down the street.
“Oh for the sake of the sweet baby Lord and everything holy,” Alice swore, swinging her gun around. The magical arsehole was dancing, tapping his feet left and right in the middle of the empty road.
“Oh what a surprise,” Alice shouted back, standing up and levelling her gun at the magical arsehole. She dare not call him “Marc Ivenr”, which was his actual name, as otherwise she would probably just shoot him on the spot for having such a stupid name.
I need more caffeine, she thought to herself.
“You’re going to have to try harder to catch meeee!” the little magical arsehole said, dancing in the street. His disjointed coattails, jeans, and top hat almost made him a clown like figure.
However, Alice knew how the magical arsehole had killed more people than she cared to remember, and worse of all he used his powers to do it. If you were lucky enough to be granted magical powers, you did not go and slaughter people who you thought were lesser with it.
Then in a poof of green smoke, the magical arsehole disappeared.
“For the sake of everything magical and holy,” Alice swore, lowering her gun. It would take weeks to catch the magical arsehole.
“Marc Ivenr is not making it easy for us,” Henry said.
“What have I told you before,” Alice said, “do not call him that.”
“You can’t write “magical arsehole” in your report again, the bosses will get mad,” Henry remarked.
“Watch me try,” Alice muttered. She was not going to give the magical arsehole a name because he did not deserve one.
The reason, however, she couldn’t tell anyone. But she could feel the magic bubbling within her veins, the parting gift from a one Marc Ivenr when he had captured her a few years before. Back when he was just involved in a bit of serious arson and a few minor robberies.
She had to catch him, trap him, and then get him to remove the goddamn curse he placed upon her.
After all, if she held magic, she would lose her job, her house, everything. Nothing belonged to those who were magic, you belonged to the state.
And the state would use you as a weapon.
“Let’s get back to the station,” Alice said, “I need to look at the magical arsehole’s file again.”
“Whatever you say,” Henry said, “but we’re still going to have a hard time catching him.”
I know that, Alice thought, but it’s amazing what desperation can do to a person. It can make them do the most impossible of things.
It can even make them kill.
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