As I watched the officer walk toward me, I pushed the other questions to the back of my mind — the questions such as if and when my guide would reappear, what happened in the ritual area, was that fire was really an act of this mysterious Darkness my guide was referring.

One problem at a time.

For the moment, my most important objective was to get away, and convince the police officer not to make an official record of my presence. And if I could learn from her why the city responded to a fire with such a serious police response, it would be a nice bonus.

Sometimes, one needed to be proactive to minimize potential future problems.

I turned my attention to the officer, finally letting myself get the details. A woman, I noted as I let my gaze dance on her, her expression sharp enough to make me think about the relative merits of escaping. Unfortunately, at this point, it was far too late.

I waited in the car, my hands still on the wheel as I did my best to look like I was watching the building that was on fire moments ago, the firefighters surrounding the building, their confusion visible from a distance. Understandable considering the extraordinary behavior of the fire.

Meanwhile, the policewoman walked closer, though luckily, her hand wasn't twitching toward her gun. Still, I kept my hands on the wheel, displaying that I had no weapon with me. "Get out of the car, carefully," was her first words when she arrived next to the car, her annoyance not particularly hidden.

I followed her request. Another lesson from the streets, always carefully listen to the orders of an irate police officer if retreating was not an option. No need to give an excuse for them to get rid of their stress.

"As you wish, officer," I said as opened the door, finally letting my gaze fall on her. The first thing I noticed was her beauty, which was apparent even with her baggy and unflattering uniform. She was a brunette, dark brown hair, and hazelnut eyes to match.

Not wanting to make her more irate, I followed her orders immediately, opening the door casually, yet slow enough not to raise any alarm.

"How can I help you, officer?" I asked as I glanced at her, my slow movement allowing me to get a glimpse of her beautiful body. Though, the slow movement allowed me to get a more extended glance at her.

The details I managed to catch were rather interesting. She had a cute face. However, she was not one of the girls that were described as cute only because they lacked beauty. No, she was beautiful, yet the shape of her chin, her beautiful cheeks, and her wide eyes evoked an overwhelming sense of cuteness despite her beauty.

Ironically, she was cute despite what seemed to be her best effort. She was frowning, but as I looked at her, I was getting convinced that it was not her default expression, but something she deliberately pushed to look more serious. Her makeup, or more accurately, the distinct lack of it, supported that conclusion.

Almost all women used makeup even if it was something as simple as a soft concealer or a natural lipstick. Yet she had no hint of it. Before I could think about the implications of her deliberate choices, however, she started speaking.

"What are you doing here, in the middle of a crime scene?" she said, trying to sound serious, but, but her voice was just as soft and alluring as her face despite her attempts to sound harsh.

I was interested in the fact that she defined the place as a crime scene, though that fitted the police responding alongside the fire department. It wouldn't make sense for a regular fire.

I wondered whether I could get some answers from her without making myself suspicious, and whether it was worth the risk. Pity I didn't have the best people skills, at least when it came to keeping them happy. Luckily, some of my Traits had the potential to help me, particularly two of them with Social implications. Intimidation, and Seduction.

The former wasn't exactly the smartest idea, and not only because I was in an environment with half a dozen coworkers ready to intervene if she felt uncomfortable.

Luckily, I had the latter option.

"Sorry, ma'am," I answered as I put my hands on the car, doing my best to keep my smile bright, giving an aura of harmless playfulness. "I was having a joyride to clean my mind for the next week's game when I noticed the fire. So I drove here to see if there was something I could do to help with the crisis," I said. "Maybe a beautiful officer such as you could use my help?"

I decided to start softly, thinking that compliments about her beauty might make her flustered, since she was doing her best to conceal that fact about herself, hiding her beauty under the guise of seriousness.

It backfired spectacularly, evidenced by the subtle clues like her frown getting tighter…

Or the way she suddenly pushed my head down, my forehead hitting the car hard enough to make a bang. While I was busy yelping in pain, I felt the cold feelings of handcuffs around my wrists. Unfortunately, with my wayward youth, it wasn't the first time I had felt handcuffs around my wrists.

"Are you trying to be funny, punk?" she gasped as she pushed me down.

I had another choice to make. The smart thing was to apologize profusely, hoping that it would resolve her anger. It might even work. But, from the corner of my eye, I realized another officer dashing toward us, his expression alarmed, I decided to take a riskier route to get some more information.

With my guide in hibernation and some kind of mysterious enemy acting, a possible altercation with the police wasn't as scary.

"Come on, sweetie, all you need to ask nicely to put me in handcuffs—" I started, only to be interrupted by another pained cry as I felt her hands slipping into my hair, slamming me down again.

"Say that again, punk," she growled while I noticed the other officer walking even faster. Excellent, I thought even as the pain hit.

"Come on, sweetie, you can do better," I said, only for her to raise my head again.

This time, before she could slam it down, the other officer growled harshly. "Molly, that's enough. What are you doing?" he growled, though I would have respected him more if he didn't look down and took the details of the car first.

I had a feeling that he was less concerned about doing his job, and more concerned about the backlash from a rich boy whose family might have reacted badly to their precious son getting hurt.

"He's a suspect," she growled. "I'm just making sure he can't attack us."

"Don't worry, officer, she can treat me as hard as she wants," I intervened as I looked at him despite my situation, doing my best to copy the smarmy smile Kevin and many other rich kids carried when they bullied and mocked the others, the belief that no consequence would come from their actions.

For the police, there was nothing scarier than an entitled rich asshole with a valid grievance.

The depressed sigh of the unnamed police officer was promising. "Not again, Molly," he said. "Please let him go."

"No, what if he was related to the cult, why else he would be here?" she growled in anger. I took note of it even as I did my best to process the meaning of her words. "We will finally have a clue about those bastards."

That made the officer take a step forward and put his hands on her shoulder, and drag her away. "Keep your mouth shut, Molly, or do you want to get fired," he whispered, though not soft enough for me to miss it. "And do you really think that a rich kid would deal with those weirdos?"

"Maybe if they have drugs," Molly answered petulantly, her voice considerably louder, her anger still bright, suggesting problems controlling her temper. "He wouldn't be the first idiot who dragged into a mess for pleasure." Then, she paused. "And look at his clothes, maybe he stole the car."

"Yes, and after stealing a car, he come to hang around half a dozen police officers and started flirting with one," he answered exasperatedly. "You need to stop being so sensitive about your looks, or you're going to put yourself into trouble the chief wouldn't be able to dig you out."

Her growl of annoyance was beautiful, though once again suppressed by the exasperated sigh of the other officer, even louder this time. He walked toward me, and unlocked my handcuffs. "I'm sorry about my fellow officer's aggression, sir. She's a bit tense because we're dealing with an important investigation."

"Of course, sir, not a bother at all. I receive worse hits every day during the training when the guys tackle me," I said, carefully slipping my recent affiliation with the football team, trying to tap into the local popularity and trying to give the impression that I was a reckless idiot at the same time.

Prejudices could be extremely useful tools of manipulation when yielded carefully.

"Oh, you're a football player, I'm a big fan of our Pirates," the officer said immediately, but his voice was too flat for it to be genuine, showing that the first part of my trick didn't find a purchase, but the second part worked, which was better than nothing.

"Yes, I'm a linebacker. My father says that they had recruited me specifically," I said, deliberately adding another little breadcrumb to make it more convincing.

"I'm glad our glorious team has people like you to defend the honor of Brightwood. And I'm glad that you want to help us, but it's an active crime scene. It's for the best if you leave."

"Really?" I said excitedly. "A crime scene? Can I stay? It would be amazing if I can watch you guys!"

"Unfortunately, sir, that's against the law," the older officer answered. "But I'm happy to see our youth having a public consciousness."

I sighed in disappointment before turning my attention back to the brunette officer. "I'm sorry that our fun had been cut short, sweetie. Maybe next time, we can use those handcuffs in a more interesting manner," I said smugly as I stepped into the car.

She growled in anger and took a step forward, the other officer took a step between us, his back turned toward me. And with him distracted by her anger, I drove away, with the knowledge of there was some kind of cult that was related to this building, a cult that had previous actions.

My head hurt, but it was a good trade-off.

Because they forgot to check for my ID, or even ask for my name.