"Useless. That's what you are, Cross. A waste of space in my department."
The words echoed through the cramped office, bouncing off the faded walls and settling like dust on Adrian's shoulders. Chief Jonathan Huggins stood behind his battered desk, face red, voice booming. The blinds rattled with every syllable, as if the building itself recoiled from the force of his anger.
Adrian Cross stood at attention, hands clenched behind his back, eyes fixed on a stain in the carpet. He'd learned long ago that looking the Chief in the eye only made things worse.
"Five years, Cross. Five!" Huggins jabbed a thick finger at the air. "You graduated top of your class. Top notcher, they called you. And what have you done since then? Not a damn thing. Five cases, five failures. Not one solved. Not one!"
A ripple of murmurs drifted from the bullpen outside. Adrian could feel the eyes of his colleagues, their curiosity and pity mixing in the stale air. He was used to it by now—the whispers, the sideways glances, the snickers behind his back. But today, the humiliation felt sharper, more final.
"Detective of No Success," Huggins sneered, savoring the nickname that had stuck like a bad smell. "That's what they call you now. You know who solves your messes, Cross? Detective Harlan Kane. Every time you drop the ball, he's there to pick it up. Maybe you should take notes from him—at least he knows how to close a case."
Adrian's jaw tightened. He'd heard it all before, but the sting never faded. Harlan Kane—the department's golden boy, the man who could do no wrong. The man who'd built his reputation on Adrian's failures.
Huggins leaned forward, his voice dropping to a growl. "I'm done making excuses for you. This is your last chance. The Voss case—Ernest Voss's daughter, Eleanor. She's been missing three days. No leads, no ransom, nothing. The family's breathing down my neck, the press is circling like vultures, and nobody wants to touch this case. It's a career killer. But you—" he jabbed his finger again, "—you're going to take it. And if you fail, you're out. No more second chances. No more pity. You're done here, Cross. Do you understand?"
Adrian nodded, the weight of the file pressing into his palm as Huggins shoved it at him. The folder was thin—too thin for a case this big. He didn't need to open it to know what it contained: a missing persons report, a few statements, maybe a grainy photo. The rest was up to him.
He turned to leave, the Chief's voice following him like a curse. "Don't screw this up, Cross. Or you'll be lucky to find work as a mall cop."
The bullpen was silent as he walked through, every head turning to watch the condemned man's final march. Some looked away, embarrassed. Others smirked, enjoying the spectacle. Adrian kept his eyes forward, the file clutched tight in his hand.
Outside, the city was gray and restless. Cars honked, sirens wailed in the distance, and the sky threatened rain. Adrian walked with no real destination, his mind replaying the Chief's words on a loop. Useless. Waste of space. Detective of No Success.
He wandered through the city's veins, past shuttered shops and flickering neon signs, until he found himself in the old park near the river. The benches were empty, the playground abandoned. He sat beneath a skeletal tree, the file resting on his lap.
He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his fingers. With his free hand, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through job listings. Call center agent. Security guard. Private investigator. Each option felt like another nail in the coffin of his career.
He exhaled, watching the smoke dissolve into the thickening air. The rain began as a whisper, then a roar, drenching the world in cold, relentless sheets. Adrian didn't move. He let the rain soak through his coat, plaster his hair to his forehead, chill him to the bone.
He looked up at the sky, the city lights blurring through the downpour. "Is this it?" he muttered, voice barely audible over the storm. "Is this the end of my career? Is this all I'll ever be?"
The wind howled in response, rattling the branches above him. Adrian closed his eyes, letting the rain wash away the last traces of hope.
Then, without warning, a sound split the night—a sharp, metallic "Ding" that seemed to echo inside his skull. It was louder than thunder, more jarring than any alarm. Adrian's eyes snapped open, heart pounding.
He looked around, but the park was empty. The only sound was the rain, drumming on the pavement. But the "Ding" lingered, vibrating in his bones, impossible to ignore.
He stared at his phone, expecting a notification, a message, anything. But the screen was blank.
Another "Ding." Louder this time. Inside his head.
Adrian dropped his cigarette, breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to hold its breath with him.
"Ding."