Thief x Detective RP (Zombie_In_A_Box x EmbracingAnime)

[EmbracingAnime]

Name:

 

Chase Fulton (Figurative language greatly implied: Chase + Fulton (bird-catcher’s town)

 

Age:

 

32 year old male

 

Appearance:

 

Tall stature. Slender build. Tan complexion. Almond, brown eyes. Always slicks back his short, black hair. Always wears a white, long-sleeved dress shirt layered with a brown, sleeveless vest, red tie, black slacks with suspenders, and dark loafers. His shirt pocket holds a scratched pen of sentimental value.

 

Outdoor attire consists of a black trench coat. Equipment includes (but is not limited to) disposable gloves, flashlight, pistol, handcuffs, portable radio, bullet-proof vest, and notepad.

 

Personality:

 

Diligent. Intuitive. Neat. Dutiful. Overambitious. Tactless. Meddlesome.

 

History:

 

The pride and joy of the New York Police Department, police detective Chase Fulton has proved his worth and, in turn, earned favorable standing amongst his colleagues, superiors, and fellow citizens. His extensive, critical thinking grants him unrivaled insight and angles; The precision and accuracy of his marksmanship is flawless; His quotient for successfully, closed cases is perfect. Chase’s reputation precedes him. As a result, his peers look to him in either admiration or envy. However, no one has dared approached him with ill intentions, due to his frankness and superiors’ favoritism.

 

Contrary to his expectations for a respectable life ordered with routine and perfectionism, Chase’s life was thrown into disarray, five years later. Chase was assigned to train his new partner—freshly recruited, starry-eyed Caleb Fox. Despite Chase’s solo, work ethic, he reluctantly allowed young Caleb to shadow him in the field and gradually handle formalities and paperwork. During Caleb’s case debut, he fell victim to his blinding naivety and was killed by a target feigning innocence.

 

After the loss of Chase’s partner, the department’s opinion of the uncanny, C.F. duo darkened into rumors and doubtful looks. His superiors began to suspect him of misinforming and abandoning his partner. In order to clear his name and rid himself of guilt, Chase picked up a case yet to be solved by anyone. Though, this case may draw his streak of closed cases to an end.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

 

Name: Jackson Lambert

 

Age: 27

 

Orientation: Pansexual Biromantic (Romantic preference towards men)

 

Appearance: Tall, quite muscular, often wears tight, ellastic clothes to make sure he doesn't trip the alarm system. His prefered weapon, if ever needed, is a small knife. He's rather graceful, so avoiding attacks and stabbing it into his enemy isn't too hard.

 

Personality: Flirty most of the time, adores one-night stand with people of all genders. He's rather messy when it comes to anything other than theft. Jackson's a smoker who also doesn't refuse an occasional drink. He prefers red wine over any other drink. While he may look threatening at times, he's rather sweet, in fact. The few love interests he had were treated as princes or princesses - mainly because once he starts something, he gets invested in it. With people he doesn't trust, he often doesn't show his real emotions. He also gets sick in cars if the road is bumpy. Another thing about him is that he's slightly claustrophobic; he's also scared of clowns.

 

Background: He was put up to adoption as a baby. He wasn't a troubled child, but parents still couldn't deal with him, mostly because he adored all sharp things. He had at least five different parents until at the age of seventeen, he ran away and began a life. He got through by stealing, which is how he ended up in the worst situation of his life. He witnessed a member of the local mafia killing a person in debt. He tried to escape, but to no avail. This was how he ended up working for them - his other option was getting killed.

 

---

His stomach twisted with yet another bounce of the car. The bag he was holding in his left hand was still empty, but he wasn't sure if he could keep it that way. Seriously, couldn't they pick a normal road for once?! Each bump made him feel sick, how did anyone expect he would be able to do his job properly if he felt like this?

 

"Hey, get yourself together." The scruffy voice came from his right. Jackson sent a glare towards the owner of the voice - an old man, the leader of the mafia. "Piss off, I told you I'm bad with cars." The man whined, covering his mouth with his right hand. Thankfully, the car soon came to a stop. As always, the blond was the first one to get out in hurry, breathing in the air gladly, filling his lungs with it.

 

"As we said. You get us the gem; anything else is for you to keep." Jackson just waved his hand, stretching his arms out to ease his stomach and stretch his muscles a little bit. He knew the drill. Without a single word, he just winked at the gang before sneaking off. Their target was a museum; well, one of the many. Thing is, it had a fantastic gem kept there - a diamond, perhaps the biggest one ever found. It was incredible, really.

 

The blond had to steal it. Getting inside was easy after having done it so many times. Slipping past the few guards - a piece of cake. Light on his feet, not making a single sound, the thief was able to get through everything until he reached the main hall. Now he had to be careful when getting the gem... The silence was sharp, but it helped him focus. He couldn't allow himself to make a single mistake.

 

Jackson managed to fish out the gem, carefully slipping it inside his pocket. Great, another job well-done! Now... Just as he was about to exit, a painting caught his eye. It featured a woman of unimaginable beauty, long blond hair covering her breasts. She was naked in a field of flowers, her dark brown eyes seemingly piercing through his skin. He had to have it. Jackson stepped closer, reaching out for the painting with one hand as the other lightly squeezed the locket on his chest. In his life, he didn't love anyone more than the only woman he could call his mother. She was amazing... He cherished her memory even after so much time passed.

[EmbracingAnime]

"Watch it, Fulton," a burly man hissed, muscles tensed beneath his shirt. Suppressing his surprise and frustration at the fellow detective who bumped into him first, Chase's façade remained unfazed, at the man's threatening undertone. He brushed off his left shoulder, with condescending airs. "Surely you have more pressing matters to attend to than looking for a fight, Mr. Detective." Without waiting for a reply, Chase left the fuming detective. "You're no longer Captain's pet, Fulton. I wouldn't get too comfortable here." The detective's snide remark echoed throughout the long, empty hallway. Chase didn't stop for a moment nor looked back. "If you're going to intimidate me, you need to put in more effort. Don't waste my time, unless you're serious." Seething with concealed rage, the detective followed Chase's back with narrowed eyes, until he disappeared behind a corner.

 

A brisk breeze greeted Chase, as he opened the door to the department's rooftop. He ambled towards the perimeter's fencing and peered over the ledge. Crowds of tired and wakeful people filled the sidewalks below, everyone's diverse routines either drawing to an end or just beginning. Cars slowed amongst the heavy traffic, their streaking glow adorning the city's grid like festive lights. Leaning against the cold, metal railing, Chase closed his eyes and inhaled the late-autumn air.

 

He tried to clear his mind, but the recent encounter replaying persistently interrupted his concentration. Chase clicked his tongue in agitation. He internally scolded himself for allowing his pride to make yet another enemy. "At this rate, the entire department will be against me," he thought, shoving his hands into his pockets. A stray memory of his old partner sneaked into his moment of brooding.

 

"Chase, about the case I'm working on, I think that neighbor is hiding something." A young man exuding with pure enthusiasm leaned over Chase's desk. A pile of stacked, bulky folders wobbled, now on the verge of toppling over. A younger Chase rearranged the pile, returning order to his methodical system. He gazed up wearily at his partner's blinding vibrancy. "That's Fulton, to you. What leads you to believe that the neighbor is withholding information from us? It's illegal to do so. He's a single-parent with a lot to lose. He wouldn't jeopardize everything on that." "I wouldn't be so sure..." "Why?" "I just have a feeling that-" Chase let out an exhausted sigh, having heard his partner's romantic idealism many times before. "Let me stop you right there, Caleb. It's fact over instinct. The facts will never betray you. Instincts can be misleading." Caleb's shoulders slumped with dejection. "Then, what would you recommend I do?" "Go by the book. Don't do anything stupid. You can interview him again, but his story will most likely stay the same. I doubt he's got anything to do with the victim." Caleb scratched his head, sending unkempt locks of sheen, red hair over his face. "If you say so..."

 

Chase opened his eyes, abruptly stopping the memory from fast-forwarding to Caleb drawing his last breath in Chase's arms—a death that continues to haunt him. He directed his emotions and guilt towards his current case. "Damn it. If it wasn't for this stupid case that tests my patience, my life would already be back to normal," he muttered under his breath. He gazed out at the cityscape bitterly, cursing his target wherever he was.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson was completely entranced with the beauty of the painting. The blond continued reaching for the painting, gently pressing his palm to it before carefully removing it from the wall. The painting was heavy, though... He ended up taking one step towards the wall to grab it better and he knocked the display card down. Crap. The sound obviously was going to bring attention... No, he could still make it outside. The man pulled his hood over his face and ran out of the room, just in time to hide with the painting when the guard came in to check.

 

All he could hear were distant words. He could hear something along the lines of 'theft', 'painting' and 'detective Fulton'. He had to get out of here before he was seen... But he didn't want to leave this painting behind. He already felt as if he knew exactly where he'd put it. There was still some space above the fireplace, it would be perfect for this.

 

Carefully, Jackson began making his way downstairs to the exit... Stupid, the exit would be blocked for sure. He had to find himself some window and jump out. Still, it would be best to do that on the first floor. The thief was glad he didn't make that much sound even when carrying a heavy painting. He managed to avoid the guards, one of whom he was sure was drunk. Or he just stinked really bad... In which case, poor guy.

 

Finally he found himself some sort of a room which had a window just big enough for the painting to fit through. He pushed that out first and climbed up, flinching when he heard sirens. Crap, he had to get out...

[EmbracingAnime]

Shutting the door behind him, Chase settled into his office. He slumped into the leather arm-chair behind his desk, breathing in the overwhelming smell of cleaning product that wafted through the air. A relaxed expression eased onto his face. Cleanliness and order never failed to calm his nerves. However, like always, his moment of peace was brief.

 

"Detective Fulton," a lanky police officer barged into Chase's office, and much to Chase's dismay, without knocking. As the officer gradually registered the strong smell and immaculate man sitting before him, he realized his blunder of rudely disturbing the Chase Fulton. The officer tried to comfort himself with the reality of Chase's current standing, but his confidence wilted, in the presence of the department's former star.

 

"Sorry for disturbing you." Chase pinched the bridge of his nose, collecting his patience. A composed façade masked his annoyance. "Can I help you with something..." The lanky man failed to hide his disappointment of not being remembered. "It's Cooper, detective." "Ah yes, Officer Cooper." The policeman carried on. "There's been a break-in into an independent gallery located in Manhattan." Chase sighed. "Why are you informing me about this. Everyone knows robberies are handled by-" "It's a precious stone gallery, detective." His attention piqued, Chase straightened up, now on the edge of his seat. "We think it involves the jewel thief from the case you're working on." The officer flinched, as Chase suddenly bolted out of his chair. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Get straight to the point next time!"

 

Without wasting any time, Chase pulled on his trench coat and gathered his tools of the trade. Following closely behind, the officer radioed-in the situation. "An update for the theft report: Detective Fulton is on his way to the scene." The two rushed out of the building and sped towards the gallery. "I'll definitely catch you this time," Chase muttered under his breath. "Did you say something?" "Drive faster, Officer Cooper."

 

Having arrived on the scene, Chase hastily exited the vehicle before it pulled to a safe stop. "Detective!" Not bothering to reply, Chase left the confused officer and hurried into the gallery. "Status report," he asked a nearby officer interviewing a guard, his words curt with impatience. The officer's anxiety at the sight of the famous detective was apparent. "Please. Time is of the essence," Chase added, now treading cautiously with his demeanor. "R-Right! We believe the culprit is still on the premises. This gallery has three floors. A jewel and painting were stolen on the third floor." "Wait, a painting? Not solely a jewel?" "Yes. Every room has been searched, with the exception of a few on the second floor. We haven't gained access to those yet-"

 

"I-I'm here!" A well-rounded man with silky pajamas and nightcap leaned against a nearby wall, catching his breath. "I came as fast as I could." "Perfect timing! Detective, this is the gallery owner. He has the master key to open the last few rooms on the second floor." "What are we standing around for then? Let's go!" With the gallery owner taking direction, Chase and a small group of officers raced up the staircase and down a short hallway. Heavy breathing filled the cramped space. Everyone braced themselves, as the owner turned the key in one of the four doors. Internally, Chase shouted a fervent plea into the vast universe to make this door the door that would guarantee him reputation.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

He was stuck. In the most awkward and embarrassing position, too! With one leg out, the other just didn't fit through the window. While he was struggling, trying to move to one side or the other, he heard a key being used to unlock the door. He was so fucked. The blond pulled harder, managing to push himself away just moments after the door was opened. He felt something holding him back. To get rid of it, he forcefully pulled away and the locket fell down... He didn't have the time to retrieve it.

 

He caught a glimpse of a (very attractive) man before he grabbed the painting and dashed off into the forest. Without the locket on his chest, however, he felt as if he was robbed. He would get it back, that was for sure. No matter what... No painting could actually be worth more than that old, wrinkled but extremely precious photo.

 

The person in the photo was his last mother - as in, the one person he felt actually cared for him. The woman wasn't rich or anything of the sort, but she was so kind... She took care of him, she wasn't angry when he screwed something up - instead, she helped him get out of the mess he'd gotten himself in. Even the first time he got into trouble with police, she wasn't angry. She helped him even then... Maybe someday he could visit her.

 

Jackson didn't stop running until he reached the van. While breathing heavily, he shoved the jewel into the boss's hands and leaned against the vehicle, holding the painting to himself, as if protecting it. "There... Now drive me... Me home..." He heaved out, as others around him laughed. It was a funny sight, sure, but it felt sort of bad.

 

Afterwards, he got home without any trouble, with a new painting to his collection. Tomorrow, he would get the locket back. There wasn't any questioning... He just had to.

[EmbracingAnime]

Immediately after the door was unlocked, Chase barged in, the doors swinging back dramatically. His wild eyes scanned the room. Colorful gems in an assortment of sizes were grandly displayed beneath pedestals equally lavish. They gleamed softly, in faint shafts of moonlight that trickled in through the windows and skylights. Nothing, except the thief, was missing.

 

Chase clicked in tongue, agitated. "Tch. He got away." One of the officers spoke up. "Don't worry, detective. We'll sweep the room for fingerprints and evidence." Chase strided towards a window, now realizing it was slightly ajar. As he approached, he noticed something glinting on the floor.

 

A devilish grin sneaked onto his face. Slapping on a disposable glove, Chase carefully picked up a chained locket. Although it was tarnished at the edges, it still retained a charming shine. "It's about time you slipped up. Your arrest is inevitable," he thought, chuckling to himself. Cautious not to damage the evidence, Chase carefully opened the locket. He peered into the private mystery. Inside, a tiny photography of a woman was sheltered. It was crinkled and yellowing at the edges with age. The woman's smile was gentle. Chase shuddered a bit. He felt vulnerable, as though this woman was peering into his soul and still smiling despite what she saw. He closed the locket, shutting her penetrating sincerity away.

 

He cleared his throat, turning to an officer behind him. "Make sure forensics gets this," he pointed to the locket that he placed back on the floor. "Yes, detective. We'll notify you, if we find anything else." No further words were exchanged, and Chase left the commotion of the scene behind. "Hopefully this is the only breadcrumb I need that'll lead me to you," he said to himself.

 

~~~

 

"Fulton!" Chase sighed, as yet another person entered his office without warning. The book he had become engrossed in was closed with an annoyed shut. He shifted his eyes towards the door, wondering if anyone would ever learn. "Yes?" It was a new face, and judging from their entrance, they hadn't heard of him yet. "I have the lab results, regarding the locket related to your current case, detective." The woman pulled a folded sheet of paper from her lab coat pocket and handed it to him. She summarized the findings, as he read them over.

 

"We could only pull one fingerprint from the locket. There were a couple others, but they were smudged beyond recognition. We also performed a search on the woman in the photograph. We came up empty, so she has no criminal record, but she doesn't have any public references nor pictures of her as well. I would assume she's just like any, other, ordinary person." "Damn, I was hoping to get something momentous, from that picture. Oh well, evidence is evidence. I'll take whatever I can get, at this point." "Well then, I'll be taking my leave now." "Wait, I want that locket." "S-Sir?" "It'll help me concentrate. Maybe, I'll get a new angle on this and catch something I overlooked." "Oh, okay. I'll have it delivered to your office right away, detective."

 

The muted ticking of a clock hanging on the wall suddenly became prominent to him. It was five minutes before his break time. Although he didn't mind a little over-time, Chase knew a break might be good for his overworked mind. He called out to the lab technician once more. "I'm going to lunch, soon. Just leave the evidence on my desk." "B-But, detective, evidence needs to be supervised or secured," she stammered, now uncertain in her acceptance of his request. Chase reached for his trench coat and held it over his shoulder. He lightly tossed his office key in her direction. Despite her surprise, she successfully caught it. "Don't worry. Just deliver it yourself, and lock up afterwards. Don't touch anything though. I'll know." The woman sighed. "Very well," she reluctantly said, as Chase took his leave.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson was absolutely heartbroken. The next day, when he came back to find his locket, it was gone. He spent at least an hour searching for it, he even asked the janitor if he hadn't found it. He was getting desperate, honestly. The one thing that he couldn't bear not having with him was that locket! It was like a good luck charm, he never went out without it. It was almost as if he didn't have hands without it.

 

Finally, he came to the conclusion that the detectives must've taken it. With various acquaintances, it didn't take too long to figure out which detectives worked on the case. Well, who was the main one, to be exact. With that information, the blond found out where he worked at and worked out a plan. It wouldn't be much problem for him to get to "work" there. Knowing the right people would get you anything...

 

Just like that, his career at the detective's workplace started. He joined the crew as a simple janitor. Honestly, he'd had to work worse jobs before, so it wasn't such a problem. Now he just had to find the man who took his locket...

 

Leaving all his stuff behind on his break, Jackson slowly paced around the station. Now, just who could he ask? Oh.

 

For a few moments, the locket disappeared from his head as a handsome man appeared. Gods, he was even taller than him! The slicked back hair, the brown eyes that completely entranced him... He could bet that underneath all that clothing there was a nice mass of muscles, too. Speaking of which... Perhaps he could make his stay here a little bit more fun. Almost like a game! Get the hot guy to sleep with him.

 

First step, go and talk to him. Jackson straightened out his back, walking towards the raven with a slight smile. "Hey, err... Would you happen to know who detective Fulton is?" He asked, meanwhile sneakily running his eyes over the other's shoulders. He was so going to get this guy to bed with him. If force would be needed, so be it. If drugs... That wouldn't be a problem either way. Once he had his eyes on a goal, he would always make it.

[EmbracingAnime]

Chase surveyed the unfamiliar man. Although he never bothered to remember people's names—especially his subordinate coworkers—, Chase could recognize faces. Custodians were an expectation: He often criticized their cleaning techniques and instructed them to skip his office.

 

However, nothing came to mind, regarding this man. Chase deduced the blonde was a newly hired janitor. He would have to repeat instructions that were already common knowledge to everyone that knew of his peeves. This repetition irked him. He hoped the janitor would catch on quickly and not force him to reiterate things.

 

"It's 'sir' not 'hey'. Don't slack on formalities, when speaking to your superiors," Chase corrected, his tone condescending. It wasn't their occupations he was reckoning but their age difference. His judgments were never superficial. He pointed to his office door, ensuring there would be no misunderstandings and future excuses. "I'm detective Fulton. My office is over there. When you do your rounds, skip my office. I'm serious. There's no need to feel inclined to tidy it. I take care of it personally."

 

Chase scanned him once more. He sighed at the man's unruly, blonde locks and wrinkled uniform. "And for Pete's sake, comb your hair, and iron your uniform! You look unprofessional," Chase rebuked, unable to stop himself from quickly tucking in the man's shirt.

 

Without wasting another second of his break, Chase left the man for lunch, without another word. Stepping into the elevator, he wondered if he was too assertive this time.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson blinked a few times, stepping back with a confused expression. Was this guy scolding him? "I-uh..." He tried to say something, but the man completely shut him off. The blond pursed his lips slightly, pushing his hands into pockets. Skip his office when doing rounds? As if. His office would most likely the place where the locket was! "Yeah, alright." The thief still said and let out a small smile. Okay, he had to get on the good side of this man. But how? What Chase liked was the exact opposite of who he was.

 

"I'm a janitor, I get messed up when doing work... That's sort of my thing." Jackson grinned lightly, jumping backwards when his shirt was tucked in. One thing he definitely didn't like were touches that were 'motherly' from anyone other than the woman. As soon as Chase was gone, Jackson pulled his shirt out and rolled up his sleeves. Damn, this guy would be a pain in the ass to get closer to.

 

Anyway, it was time to eat! Jackson strolled over to the cafe, ordering himself a hamburger, some French fries and a coke. Healthy food wasn't something he enjoyed too much, honestly. The blond sat down at a table in the corner, taking a huge bite out of the burger while scanning the room. Well... He had to find something to do, right? Oh, what about that guy? Cute! Jackson was quick to change his target if it seemed like the first one would be hard to get. He didn't give up, just... He just took other goals while reaching for the main one.

[EmbracingAnime]

Chase exhaled an exhausted sigh. It had taken him several minutes to finally get to the front of a line, at a local, coffee shop. After much waiting that tested his patience, he ultimately received the wrong order.

 

Accepting defeat, he retreated into his usual nook, with a black coffee and toasted panini. It was an empty nook tucked away from the cafe's lively bustle. Although it was usually occupied, it seemed his regular presence had steered everyone clear of the spot. He wondered if he was exuding negative auras. The paranoid thought depressed him. Chase sipped his coffee, remembering he disliked bitter things a moment too late. Cringing with disgust, he hoped things would work out in his favor soon.

 

Punctual as always, Chase returned to the police department, exactly at one o'clock. Two officers in the middle of sharing a joke stopped laughing, as he approached the glass doors. One nervously held the door open. The polite gesture and fearful expression was painful to watch. "Carry on, gentlemen," he said casually with a smile, though his words were secretly premeditated. Lady Luck had abandoned him lately, so he resolved to take matters into his own hands. Baffled, the officers scrambled for words. "Y-Yes, detective!" "Welcome back from lunch, detective!"

 

Pushing the button for the elevator, he reflected on their surprise. He hoped it was a pleasant one. As Chase stepped in, he could overhear them. "Who was that man?! Was that really detective Fulton?" "Do you ever think we'll see that smile again?" Now flustered, Chase wished he hadn't heard such encouraging yet embarrassing remarks. He inhaled a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the crowd vexed eyes that awaited him on his floor.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson decided he could at least enjoy his stay in this company. So, after finishing his meal, the blond went over to the cute guy he had his eye on, flirting shamelessly with him. Apparently, he'd hit the jackpot - it didn't take longer than ten minutes to get the guy to go with him. Now he just had to figure out if he would be limping, or would it be the other guy. He really didn't care which "position" he took as long as the sex was good.

 

Since he had the key to the janitor's office, that was where it all took place. It really wasn't the best place, but hey, it was way better than nothing. He ended up bottoming, though... And the guy certainly didn't have any mercy on him. Hell, it felt good as fuck, so he didn't even mind getting gagged - after all, he was a man willing to try out anything. At some point, he tried bondage, and he would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

 

Getting out of the office proved to be a little bit difficult, however. He cleaned up with some tissues he found, and attempted to fix up his clothes at least somewhat, so people wouldn't get too suspicious. Although he probably smelled of sex either way. The "activity" was exhausting, too. And somewhat painful, which sucked. Especially since he had to clean now...

 

Jackson stretched out as he stopped in front of Fulton's office, about to enter when he remembered he was not to. He could try to return here at night and sneak in, he'd just tell people he wanted to work overtime to get more money or something. He did pretend to be poor to get in here, after all. For a janitor, actually, the salary wasn't too bad.

 

With a sigh, the blond just walked off, limping the slightest bit. Only if someone actually took the time to observe him they would notice something being wrong. Yet, he was used to it.

[EmbracingAnime]

As the elevator doors opened, Chase stepped out onto his floor. Despite his breakthrough just moments ago, his usual demeanor returned. He decided against any more displays of amiability. "Small steps," he reassured himself. He entertained the idea of expressing a personality polar-opposite to his. He could see it clearly. His coworkers would never let him live it down. Jokes and teasing would become his routine norm. His pride shuddered, at the thought.

 

Chase weaved around the cubicles and desks of those without offices. Some were scribbling away frantically, their deadlines soon approaching. Others rocked idly in their chairs, twirling pens in their fingers and laughing amongst themselves. No one greeted Chase which was fine: He wasn't in the mood to venture into uncharted territory and initiate conversation. Only quick glances were exchanged. He wondered if the air had always been so stifling. "Was it like this, when I first got here?" His wandering thought found no answer. Chase didn't invest enough attention and interest into others. Only memories of his rise up the ladder and unrivaled success were stored.

 

As Chase reminisced on the way to his office, a stray thought sneaked out from the darkest corners of his mind and into his consciousness. He forgot to tread carefully around the past. There, his dead partner lay waiting for him, his sunny smile tormenting his guilt-ridden heart. Chase's strides quickened. The scratched pen in his shirt pocket suddenly became heavy.

 

He tried to distract himself. He let his eyes wander, until they fell upon the new janitor. Having corrected his appearance earlier, Chase was irked to see the man return to his initial, untidy state. He gave him a disapproving look. He hoped the janitor remembered at least half of their previous exchange: if not his lack of professionalism, then at least Chase's warning about cleaning his office.

 

Upon closer inspection, the janitor was slightly limping in front of his office. Chase's attentive eyes narrowed. It seemed as though the man was hiding it. Chase clicked his tongue, annoyed. Somehow, this man's rebellious incompetency reminded Chase of Caleb. He hoped the janitor would eventually move on: Him being a living reminder of his guilt would plague his mind and work.

 

Still, Chase couldn't turn a blind eye. Something compelled him. "Hey, are you alright?" His chiding expression melted a little with concern. He also realized this man hadn't the decency to introduce himself as well. Chase tried to focus on the blonde's current well-being.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson pushed the janitor's cart in front of him, actually putting some weight on it to make it easier for him to walk. To remove the smell of sex from himself, he sprayed a little bit of some cleaning liquid on himself, because it just smelled good. He would've showered if he'd found a place where, but he didn't manage. Perhaps there was a bathroom with a shower somewhere, but it didn't seem to show itself to him.

 

Hearing an already familiar voice behind, the blond turned around, letting out a warm smile. "I'm perfectly fine, sir." He said, leaning slightly against the car. He had to make sure to do whatever this guy wanted him, right? After all, his precious locket was in his hand.

 

If anything, he was willing to drug this man and take everything he wanted. Or, that was what he thought. He honestly couldn't tear his eyes away from Chase's face. To be more exact, the hint of concern in it. Yes, he really didn't like it when people touched him in a motherly way, but anyone could be concerned.

[EmbracingAnime]

Chase rubbed his nose. The scent of cleaning product coming from this man was more overwhelming than his office, and that was saying a lot, since Chase was always keen on cleanliness. His face eased with contentment. At least one of the janitors knew what they were doing. Chase reevaluated his first impression of him.

 

"If you say so, alright. Don't overwork yourself." Giving advice he himself failed to follow, Chase smiled to himself. "Well, I'll let you get back to work...," his voice purposely trailed off, implying the yielding of the man's name.

 

Though, before Chase could learn it, a familiar voice interjected. "Oh, back already, detective?" Chase turned to see the lab technician he met earlier. Amused, she smiled at the asocial detective's friendliness towards the new custodian. Never missing a beat, Chase caught the underlying tease in her twinkling eyes and scowled at her. The lab technician was new as well, yet she was already acting chummy with him. He wondered how long she had eavesdropped.

 

"What do you want..." His trailing voice was genuine, this time. "Ah, I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I thought it would be pointless, since you don't concern yourself with familiarity." Her grin irked him. Just how much did she read into him? He suspected she possessed a rare character that adapted easily in any situation. "What a troublesome ally I've gained," he thought, conflicted with hope and displeasure.

 

"The name's Amy. I'm the new, lab technician, though, you probably already knew that." "Last name?" Chase folded his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. She giggled. "Don't sweat the small stuff, detective. You can call me Amy. Can I call you Chase?" He glared viciously. The mood went sour. "Stop yanking my chain. We're not on a first name basis nor will we ever be," he hissed. Being called by his first name reminded him of his partner. He sighed. He usually wasn't reminded of the past so much. The change was unsettling.

 

"S-Sorry, detective. My last name is Taylor." Chase clicked his tongue, agitated. "Great. She's got two first names. I should've known this would be a losing battle," he thought. "Anyway, here's the evidence you requested. I couldn't deliver it sooner, because things got hectic. Sorry." Feeling ashamed, he scratched his head. Her dispirited voice was persuasive. Chase took the zipped, plastic bag labeled with his case number. The tagged locket shifted inside. "Don't worry about it. I'm...sorry too...," he muttered. Now remembering the janitor's presence, he felt embarrassed. Surely, he would lose them both.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson smiled warmly at the man, nodding lightly at the advice. "Thank you, sir." He replied with a loose grin stretched out across his face. Just as he was about to, finally, introduce himself, however, he was interrupted by an incredibly energetic-looking woman. As the two of them interacted, he stood there awkwardly, although his attention was immediately snatched away when he noticed the locket.

 

He gazed at the plastic bag that held his most precious belonging as the other two argued, apparently. He didn't pay attention. He had to get that locket back. When he realized Chase and Amy had finished arguing, Jackson glanced up at Chase's face and smile. "I'm Jackson, Jackson Lambert." He introduced himself, attempting to ease the mood.

 

"Erm... May I ask what's that?" He asked while pointing at the plastic bag. He just hoped it would be kept in the detective's office. If he decided to keep it on himself, it would be a lot harder to get it... He would manage, of course, but it would require a lot more effort. But perhaps... Perhaps he wouldn't mind a challenge for once. Lately stealing became boring, even. It didn't bring him as much thrill as before. Maybe, just maybe finding a way to get the locket from Fulton himself would spark an interest in theft again.

 

He found himself missing the familiar on his chest. The locket wasn't too light, so he always felt it. Sometimes he imagined it beating along his heart, as if it was his mother's. It helped him, sometimes.

[EmbracingAnime]

Chase was relieved to have the janitor—Jackson—interject himself into the conversation. Awkwardness was one of the very few things he struggled dealing with. In the past, Chase abandoned problematic interactions altogether, adding tension to his relationships. Until recently, his diligence in the workplace failed to carry over into social matters. Now, he desperately strove for the restoration of everything he previously cast away.

 

Fortunately, Jackson appeared unfazed by the brief friction between Chase and Amy. It was a pleasant surprise for Chase, to see Jackson untroubled at his unanticipated hostility. Amy seemed to be recovering quickly too. Her timid smile was replaced with a kittenish grin, amused by the soft, contrite heart that hid within his armor of indifference.

 

"It's nice to finally learn your name, Lambert." Chase extended his arm for a handshake, ignoring Amy's playful demeanor behind him. He realized he never should've worried about her fragility in the first place. "This," he started, holding up the secured locket. "...is classified evidence related to a case I'm currently in charge of. I can't tell you anything more than that. Though, you should already know that, since you were briefed during orientation."

 

"Well, I'll be taking my leave, you two." Amy waved to both of them, slipping in a wink as well. Chase muttered something under his breath about her relaxed manners. Although he detested defeat, he knew surrendering to her whims was inevitable. Sighing to himself, he turned the handle of his office door. "I'll be doing the same. I have a lot of work to do. It was nice meeting you, Lambert." Chase bowed his head, before retreating into his office to mull over his case.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson was so used to constant fighting around him, this little argument was nothing. As long as it didn't involve him, other people could throw knives at each other and he wouldn't really care. The blond had to be used to fights that ended up with blood, too. Working with the mafia, he'd seen enough dead bodies to give him nightmares forever. He didn't like dead people, nor did he like graveyards. They were too creepy for him. Creepy, quiet and always so lonely. And sad. Some people would cry by the graves of their loved ones, others would console the ones weeping. He himself, he would just stand there, by some random grave and imagine it was his biological mom or dad. Always, the same question. "Why didn't you want me so bad?"

 

Pulled out of his thoughts by Chase's voice and the hand in front of him, the blond shook it with a smile, nodding slightly. He tilted his head as he listened to the explanation, nibbling his lip. "Er... What would happen if someone said this was theirs? I mean, if the owner of this locket would be found, they'd be the main suspect, right?" The man questioned with a small frown on his face. Tonight he would take his treasure back. He could even break in through the window if really necessary.

 

"It was nice meeting you too, sir." Jackson replied with a loose smile, bowing his head a little bit to show the respect Fulton seemed to want so bad. His gaze turned to Amy, at who he smiled carefreely and winked. She was cute, actually. Not the "pretty" kind of cute, but the "she'd look good naked and on top of me" kind of cute. He would end up fucking half the people here...

[EmbracingAnime]

As the evening sun sank deeper in the concrete horizon, brilliant hues of orange engulfed New York City. Towering skyscrapers glared with the blazing reflection of sundown. One of their glinting windows caught Chase's wandering gaze, blinding him. He swiveled in his leather armchair, no longer interested in the scenery outside his office. Despite his office's stiff ambiance, the fleeting daylight felt cozy and warm against his skin. Even the rhythmic ticking of the clock above his office door was soothing.

 

Wary of his slacking attitude, Chase straightened his posture and focused his attention on work. He tried brainstorming from new angles, but he wound up going in circles. Taking a break to tackle other cases proved ineffective as well. It was no use. Fatigue kept snatching away his concentration. He deduced his routine of all-nighters was finally catching up to him. For the sake of his health and fresh ideas, he decided to return home earlier than usual.

 

Once he slipped into his trench coat, Chase stowed his case materials into his bag and locked up. The sentimental pen in his breast pocket was given two small taps, before he headed downstairs. On the elevator ride down, Chase wondered if he would ever be free of the piteous habit. Though reminders of the past silently tormented him, he knew such hopeful thinking was futile. Whenever he dared throw it away, twisted attachments and guilt curbed him.

 

As he stepped outside, Chase inhaled the cooling air. Dusk had already begun to settle in. Slanted shadows slowly faded into the darkness of night. One by one, street lamps flickered to life, like twinkling stars at twilight. He merged with the crowds of passing people. Their mundane weariness was infectious. Soon, he was lax and trudging home too.

 

Several turns and crosswalks later, Chase eventually made it home in one piece. He gave his familiar doorman a polite nod and headed up to his apartment. Though a majority of the lofty building accommodated New York City's elite, Chase was one of the rare exceptions. Long hours and many, solved cases paid for his more modestly-priced suite (or at least, he hoped it wasn't through underhanded means, like connections). He was drawn in, not by the luxurious standards, but by functionality: It was close to his workplace, and it was the only listing in the area.

 

Once he arrived, Chase unlocked his apartment—equally impeccable as his office—and settled in.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson sighed as his question was left unanswered. It seemed that Fulton was tired. He could always just ask the question again later. Tomorrow, or maybe some other day. Well, if he did find the locket in Chase's office, the question wouldn't be necessary. Perhaps he would stick around to get closer to the man, but otherwise, this place had no other use for him. Although it seemed like a lot of people here would be down for some casual sex.

 

Either way, his main target soon left, and so did he. For now, he might even actually do the job he was supposed to do. While wandering around the building, Jackson mentally noted down all of the possible escape routes in case something went wrong. Where the window was big enough, where the key was easy to get, he had to know everything. There were some places it would be almost hilariously easy to escape from, while others would cause him more trouble than needed.

 

Finally, as he watched Chase leave the building, Jackson got back to his office. After making sure that no one would see him, the blond got inside and closed the door after him quietly. Now, where could the locket possible be? He went through all drawers, all shelves, searched everywhere on the table without moving anything before finally giving up. It wasn't there. Now he would have to work out a new plan...

 

With defeat written all over his face, Jackson moved out of the office and continued his quiet work. He was good at cleaning, that was true. He may have done a little bit more than he was supposed to, even. The man washed the dishes in the small kitchen, mopped the floors on the first floor, even went as far as scrubbing the toilets. He honestly disliked dirtiness.

 

It was time for him to go home after a while, though. After changing back to his usual clothes, the man decided to hit the bar before that. He wanted a drink or two, maybe another carefree one-night stand. Those always managed to cheer him up...

 

Jackson stretched out as he got onto his bike - it didn't give him as much motion sickness as cars, for whatever reason. Besides, he felt really good when on it. Being able to defy the wind made him feel powerful. The speed, the danger, it all felt so goddamn good.

 

However, an end came to all good things - while some were replaced by better ones, others were replaced by bad ones. This time, he was lucky - the bar was opened, he had enough money, so the drive was replaced with a better thing. Heading inside, Jackson grinned loosely at the man in front of the doors. He was a very frequent customer, which was why he acted so casual with the bodyguards, even. Everyone knew him.

 

Sitting down on one of the stools, Jackson ordered himself a beer, chatting lightly with the bartender as he waited for his drink.

[EmbracingAnime]

With the flick of a light switch, the few furnishings of Chase's apartment emerged from the darkness. White walls, pale cushions, glass tables, a lack of personal touch and nonessential adornments—everything emanated minimalism. It was a reflection of Chase's standard for functionality over form. Even so, the absence of photographs and trinkets paralleled his barred heart: No attachments nor vulnerabilities were left out for others to see.

 

Chase removed his shoes at the door and loosened his tie. It had been a shorter day at work than usual, yet a growing sense of fatigue weighed on his shoulders. He padded across the milky, tiled floor, as he made his way to the kitchen. It seemed a perfect time as any for a drink. After the incident, alcohol played a significant role in his ability to sleep. It kept the nightmares at bay, but it never cured his pains. Lately, Chase restrained himself, after relying on the temporary relief too often.

 

However, a surprising amount of memories were triggered throughout the day, and they were beginning to take a toll on his aloof facade. Chase reassured himself that a drink or two wouldn't hurt. Though, the recollection of blacking out again lingered in the back of his mind. He set an empty glass on the counter and searched his liquor cabinet. It was empty. Chase clicked his tongue, impatiently. He had forgotten that he wiped his alcohol stock clean last time.

 

Glancing at his watch, Chase threw on his coat and left his apartment. It would be too much of a hassle to walk all the way to a liquor store. Instead, a nearby bar he occasionally frequented would be more convenient. Chase flipped up his trench coat collar and shoved his hands in his pockets, bracing himself against a brisk gust of wind. Winter was on its way.

 

Entering the dim establishment, Chase nodded to a familiar bouncer and took a seat at the bar. "Haven't seen you for awhile. What'll it be tonight?" Chase looked up at the middle-aged bartender who grinned at him. He couldn't admit that he was abstaining from alcohol, because he couldn't hold his liquor responsibly. He sifted through possible excuses. "I've been busy with work. My caseload isn't getting any lighter, and it's not like they'll solve themselves. I'll have a whiskey." "And here I thought I lost one of my regulars. Well, don't overwork yourself. One whiskey coming up," the bartender replied and left to attend the customers before him. Chase mulled over his cases, as he waited for his drink.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson let out a sigh as he rested his head on his arms, folded on top of the bar. Now, who could he get to bed for tonight? He didn't feel like taking it up the ass again, so maybe a girl... Unless he got some really kinky one. God, he'd been fucked by a strap-on a few times before. It felt kind of weird, to be completely honest.

 

The blond huffed as he looked around, his gaze stopping at some girls he found at least a little bit more attractive than others. Most of them seemed drunk, some were with other guys - not that he'd have a lot of problem taking them away - then there were those who were just starting their night here, at the bar. Those were usually the hardest to get to. If there was music, he would always take the one who was dancing the most... Well, if he wasn't pushed away too much. He wasn't that big of a jerk. Maybe.

 

His eyes quickly moved to the door when they opened, his body tensing up as he straightened up. Fulton. He found himself tracing his eyes over the other's body, fingers twitching at the thought of muscles hiding behind those clothes. Yeah, he had the locket, yeah, he was pretty much his enemy, but god... He was like a fine piece of cake.

 

Jackson didn't waste time with standing up once he got his drink, instead sitting down next to Chase. "Sir, mind if I sit?" He asked with a light grin, taking a sip of his favorite beer. He disliked the dark beer, as he found it a little bitter sometimes. Light beer was his favorite... Although his preferred drink was a mojito. The best thing with that drink was the fact that you could get both an alcoholic and a non-alcoholic one. On hot days, drinking some non-alcoholic mojito was his favorite activity... Well, if you didn't count some outside sex.

[EmbracingAnime]

Chase choked on his whiskey, startled by the familiar voice. He deliberately chose this bar, because his coworkers rarely frequented it. This new employee presented an unanticipated error in his calculations. If he had noticed Jackson's presence earlier, he would've retreated to a different location. Social interactions weren't his forte, nor did he endeavor to improve his skill set. Relationships were nothing but trouble. They pried him open, revealing his vulnerable softness, only to scar him with future afflictions.

 

Swigging his drink in one gulp, Chase slammed his empty glass onto the counter. His hope to escape his accumulating stress was being dashed with resurfacing memories. He wondered if such torments would follow him into death. "Hey, be careful. You break it: You buy it," the bartender scolded. Chase checked his frustration. It was odd for his emotions to escape his rigid filter. Though he blamed the alcohol, he ordered another round. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me." Soon, the empty glass was slid back to him, refilled.

 

Chase glanced over at Jackson, his body language still withdrawn. He had been avoiding him for awhile. Noting the rhetorical question that followed Jackson's seating, Chase doubted the polite act. "Why bother asking, when you're already sitting," he thought. Treading more carefully, he braced himself for other, bold expressions. "Sit anywhere you want," he replied, delayed. Though he desperately sifted his mind for possible follow-ups, he drew a blank. Chase hid his loss for words, with a sip of his second drink.

[Zombie_In_A_Box]

Jackson frowned slightly at Chase's reaction, flinching slightly as the glass was slammed down on the bar. His eyebrows rose and he got ready to leave before finally getting a reply. "Jeez, someone's in a bad mood." He mumbled before letting out a smile. "Why're you alone though?" He asked, a relaxed expression on his face as he took a sip of his beer. The liquid burned his throat the slightest bit, but he enjoyed it.

 

The blond leaned against the bar, glancing at the bartender to send him a playful wink. He hoped the action would go unnoticed by Fulton - if he did see, it could cause him some trouble. At such an age, Jackson had already slept with what was probably half of the country. He disliked settling down for a more serious relationship, or maybe he just didn't find anyone he wanted to spend more time with. The latter was probably true - what he needed was a relaxing relationship, nothing too committed either way.

 

Well, there was one. They didn't last too long, but... Well, if the guy had stayed alive, he was sure he wouldn't even be a thief right now. Gods, sometimes he really did miss him. His smile, his eyes, his everything. Jackson found himself slowly drifting away with the memories, unconsciously squeezing the bottle of beer a bit tighter. Fuck, tonight wasn't the night he wanted to be remembering this. No, what he really didn't want to remember was finding his love dead. In a way, he was scared of a relationship because if he got too close, the person usually left, in one way or another.

[EmbracingAnime]

Beads of condensation rolled down Chase's short glass, as he knocked back his drink. Two, melting ice cubes clinked, within the amber liquid. As he motioned the bartender of another round, he loosened his tie, roughly tugging at it. A glimpse of his prominent collarbone peeked out. His usual, cold front began to thaw into an unusually casual air. He could sense a familiar warmth creeping up his skin. Was the alcohol already settling in? Perhaps, his abstinence regressed his tolerance.

 

Chase leaned back, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. Black strands of hair—stiff with hair product—fell out of place. If he was already drunk, he might as well use the liquid courage to his advantage. "Well, I could ask the same of you. There's nothing wrong with wanting to unwind in peace, is there?" He watched the bartender pour his third serving of whiskey. "You usually stop at two, detective." "Oh, quit mothering me," Chase hissed, before taking a swig. He grimaced, until the scorching sensation subsided.

 

He turned to Jackson, his posture relaxing. Though his eyelids dared to droop with the weight of drunkenness, Chase's brown eyes remained sharp and cool. "Why are you alone?" It wasn't long, until Chase found his answer in a playful wink. He restrained himself from scolding the young man. This wasn't the workplace: Jackson was free to do as he pleased. However, a small flicker of irritation left Chase perplexed. Was that an inkling of jealousy? He drowned his doubts in more liquor. It had been awhile, since he felt such emotions. Before Chase's thoughts idly wandered further into what the bartender had that he didn't, Chase distracted himself with a new topic.

 

"How are you holding up?" Chase wasn't buzzed enough to miss Jackson's brief display of tension—his knuckles slightly whitening in a grip on his beer bottle. "...with work, I mean," Chase added, trying not to pry into private matters nor seem rudely observant.