A man with a stern, determined expression pushed open the door to an office. He wore a impeccably pressed gray uniform. Of average height, his face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, and his piercing brown eyes radiated confidence.
The spacious wooden office was well-organized, with a computer sitting prominently at the center of the desk. A secure telephone rested within arm's reach.
The elderly man seated behind the desk greeted the newcomer with a polite nod of respect. "Agent Owen, it's not every day you come to visit an old man like me."
"Hey, old man. Everything running as smoothly as you'd like?"
The elderly man nodded. He let the silence linger deliberately for a few moments. Then, with a fluid hand gesture, he invited Owen to sit in the chair across from his imposing desk.
The old man laced his fingers together. A warm smile spread across his lips. "How's he doing?"
Owen settled comfortably into the chair. "He just woke up in the hospital, and the doctors say he's out of danger."
"That's good news. I hope he'll be back on his feet soon." The old man's hands slowly unclenched, abandoning their elegant pose, and rested gently on the desk. "I think I know why you're here."
Owen tilted his head slightly. "Then let's make this quick. I don't have time to waste."
"I can't let you handle this case, Agent Owen," the old man replied, shaking his head slowly.
"Those bastards tried to kill my brother—you get that, right? What kind of brother would I be if I did nothing?"
"That's one of the reasons I can't assign you this case. You're far too emotionally involved."
Owen raised a brow in confusion. "And the other reasons?"
The old man sighed lightly before responding, "I believe you're well aware that you're a warden. You can't be deployed on a case like this."
Owen's face darkened. "So you're telling me you're refusing to put me on it just because I'm too important. Is that it?"
The old man shook his head, a sad look in his eyes. "It's not that simple. I have to consider many factors and maintain order fairly. Conventional police handle regular cases, while wardens are tasked with special operations. Let the conventional police deal with this one."
Owen sighed. "I don't see why I should bother with all this red tape. I could've acted without your approval, and you know it."
"You're quite insolent, Agent Owen. No matter your prestige, you're not above the rules that govern our profession. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Owen, sporting a smirk, shrugged casually. "Your procedures, your rules… none of that matters to me. I only came here out of courtesy to you."
The old man let out a weary sigh. He leaned back slightly in his chair and fixed his gaze on Owen. Without a word, he picked up the desk phone and dialed a number. "Please summon Agent Lafan to my office immediately."
Meanwhile, Owen crossed his arms with a hint of arrogance. He looked relaxed, almost amused by the situation.
Seconds ticked by in tense silence as he stared intently at the old man.
Suddenly, the door swung open. A woman strode in, offering a military salute to both men.
She had an elegant, professional air and wore a fitted black pantsuit. Her fair skin contrasted with her neatly tied brown hair, pulled into a pristine bun. Her sharp, expressive eyes gleamed a striking blue. A faint scar marked her face.
"Agent Lafan, at your command, sir," she said.
The commander returned her salute warmly, motioning for her to approach. Beside Owen, Lafan stood tall, her expression unwavering.
The commander turned his attention to her. "Agent Lafan, I'm assigning you a mission. You'll track down two suspects involved in art trafficking. I insist you conduct this investigation with diligence, given the unusual circumstances. However, I must inform you that you'll be partnering with Agent Owen here. Don't forget—you're in charge of this case. Report any misconduct from him to me immediately."
Lafan nodded solemnly.
The commander then looked at Owen. "Agent Owen, what do you say? These are my terms for you to join this case."
Owen flicked a quick glance at Lafan, then flashed a carefree smile. He clicked his tongue against his palate. "Doesn't matter what the terms are, as long as I'm in," he said nonchalantly. "Nice to team up with you, Agent Lafan," he added with a wink.
With that, he abruptly stood, the chair's wheels squeaking as he rose. "Alright, we've wasted enough time here."
Without waiting for a reply, he strode toward the office door, nearly slamming it shut behind him.
Lafan exchanged a puzzled look with the commander before deciding to follow Owen.
She hurried to catch up with her new partner as he roamed the hallways.
"By the way, how's he doing—I mean Agent Ceb? My duties haven't let me visit him. I hope he's improving," she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Owen turned his head toward her. "He's out of danger, thankfully. But his injuries are serious—maybe bad enough to end his career as an officer. The doctors aren't sure if he'll return to duty."
Lafan's face fell, a wave of worry washing over her.
Owen, in a teasing mood, grinned slyly. "Oh, do you have some special connection with my dear brother? Something I don't know about?"
Lafan blushed slightly, stammering a quick reply, "No, no, of course not. We're just good colleagues, that's all. I'm just worried about him. Isn't that normal?"
Owen smiled. "Sure, it's totally normal to care about your colleagues," he said, shrugging lightly. "Especially when you're as close to my brother as you are," he added with a mischievous wink.
Lafan felt the heat rise to her cheeks and struggled to hide her embarrassment. But Owen seemed to relish the moment.
"Don't worry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," he said, his tone softening. "It's nice to know there are people who care about Ceb." His gaze grew a touch more serious. "That's why I'm so set on making those crooks pay."
Lafan steadied herself. "Still, as the lead on this operation, I can't let you act outside the bounds of justice, even if I understand your thirst for revenge."
Owen burst out laughing. "Well, looks like the old man paired me with a real straight-A type."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Lafan shot back.
They finally reached an elevator just as a few people stepped out. They exchanged greetings and then entered the elevator together.