If it wasn’t clear before that these strings of accidents were intentional, then this definitely makes it more obvious. A calling card? A code? A message? I wonder. Karma? Is it a name or do they believe it that their actions are karmic?

Grasping straws; of course without any evidence they would think Florian is being paranoid. I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with that statement. If not for the bloody message left on a cement wall.

It seems odd, doesn’t it. That someone could or would deliberately set up random accidents. Is that even possible?

Staring at the wall with the words Karma printed in crimson, it makes my skin crawl to look at it, pushing that aside - it’s evident that this word means something. Why write this message? I think some truly believe that they will never get caught, but this is often the piece that gets them chased. Others may see it as a way to taunt the police. But if this person is setting up murders that seem like accidents, why would they need to taunt the police?

There has to be something linking all of these accidents together.

With that settled, where is the phone? Found it. The outdated phone was discarded between some pillows and the crease of the armchair. With a shaky hand, I flip it open. There is only one number on my phone. The phone rings for long enough that I am worried he won’t answer.

“Why are you calling me?” the Herald answers, he sounds exasperated with me.

“To make a request,” I reply dryly.

“Make it quick,” he responds sharply.

“Yes, sir,” I take a second, “I’d like to request a change of location.”

“Where? And for what reason?” He definitely sounds annoyed with me.

“Oakside, I believe that there is something happening,” I tell him, “I’d like to arrive as quietly as possible, without their knowledge that I have gotten there. I would like to survey some locations without the Civilian Protection knowing.”

“Oakside,”

“Yes, sir,”

“And you think this is something worth the Order’s time?”

“Yes, I do,”

There’s some silence on the other side.

“Fine, what do you need?” he replies.

“I want to investigate two reformation centers, and a city street-

-a city street,” he doesn’t sound so amused.

“Yes, without interruption,” I respond.

“Without interruption?” he repeats.

“Yes,”

“And do you have any form of communication with the Civilian Protection of Oakside?” he asks.

“I have emails,”

“Forward them,”

“Yes, sir,”

“And Wolf will be with you?” the Herald asks.

“Yes, sir,”

“Send those emails, I’ll have tickets for you later,”

Well, that was unpleasant. As it usually is. I think the Herald expects me to simply take small cases behind my tablet, rather than go outside of his recommended jurisdiction. We should probably clean up, while we wait for tickets to arrive. It would be unfair to leave a mess when the hotel has been kind enough to work with our security protocols. And has housed for as long as they have.