Father Linus

Dylan's face snapped up to the voice, his eyes narrowing as he saw a familiar figure— not one he wanted to meet.

It was the same face he saw on the news. The golden-eyed priest dressed in a black cassock with a simple silver cross resting against his chest.

However, meeting in person, Dylan was quick to notice the uniqueness of his gaze. Always unfocused, detached, and lifeless, like that of a human in his final moments.

"Father Linus…" Dylan nearly hissed those words as if he had met an archenemy.

His instincts were to kill, but they weren't from Lich, so it was faint and bearable.

"You know me?" Father Linus asked in the same dull voice but with a raised eyebrow.

By now, the shock was gone, and Dylan had regained composure. He nodded with a small smile and stretched out his hand to shake the man.

"I saw you on the news…" Dylan said excitedly like a fan. "I think it has something to do with a fire incident."

"Ooh"

Father Linus mumbled with a nod. He remembered his arrival in this part of the world wasn't news to many people, especially someone as informed as Dylan.

"So what brings you here?"

Dylan maintained eye contact, with a polite smile while he spoke.

"The fire incident. There are a few questions I have to ask."

Father Linus's dull voice made Dylan uncomfortable. He wondered why the corridor was empty at a time like this.

"I apologize, but I have a client interrogation to deal with. Let's do this another time."

Saying this, Dylan tried to walk past the priest, but he moved and blocked Dylan's path.

"What I seek is far more important than whatever you have to do right now."

Father Linus hissed with a soul-piercing look that would have terrified Dylan if he wasn't pissed off. He stepped closer, his face inches away from Father Linus' and a mocking smile stretched across his face.

"Okay, tough guy. Save that for someone who cares."

Without hesitation, Dylan nudged him aside with his shoulders and walked away, leaving Father Linus alone in the corridor. However, the priest didn't attempt to stop him or even speak.

He simply nodded in understanding while pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

"He's not the one we are looking for, but he is something. The winds don't blow around him."

Saying this, he turned to the door Dylan emerged from. Malika stood at the doorpost, observing the exchange. Their eyes met and remained locked for a few seconds before he walked into the cell and shut the door behind him.

—

Dylan left the station, walking straight to his car. He forgot he had Malik's defense to deal with and entered his car, locking the door.

He pulled down the glove compartment, pulled out a cigarette from the pack, and lit it with a lighter.

Dylan took a deep drag and his nerves reacted as warmth spread across his body. He leaned back as he exhaled a plume of smoke.

"What the hell was that?" He muttered.

Even now, Dylan couldn't get rid of the look in Father Linus' eyes. It felt like he was talking to a corpse still breathing and speaking for only one purpose.

{I told you the heavens are scary…}

"And then proceeded to force me to burn down an entire warehouse. Now an overzealous priest is stalking me." Dylan chipped in with an eye roll.

Dylan sighed heavily while ashing his cigarette on his car's cupholder.

{Killing is not always the answer. If Father Linus dies, the church and the police will be interested in the supernatural phenomena that he came to investigate that ended up stealing his life. You are a lawyer, I shouldn't be telling you this.} Lich yelled upon sensing Dylan's murderous intent.

{By the way, you would probably lose if you fought him.} Lich added.

—

The interrogation room was a small, dimly lit room that carried the heavy scent of sweat and stale coffee. A single overhead bulb buzzed faintly, casting a pale glow over the scratched-up metal table.

Malik Carter sat cuffed to the chair, his expression indifferent as he leaned back. Across from him, two detectives stared him down.

Detective Harris tapped his fingers against a folder marked HOMICIDE. His partner, Detective Ortiz, stood with his arms crossed, silent but watching Malik like a hawk.

"You know why you're here, Malik," Harris began, flipping open the folder. "Victor Alvarez. Shot twice outside the Lux Nightclub. A damn shame."

Malik said nothing.

Harris smirked, pulling out a few photos. One showed Victor's bloodied body slumped in the alley. Another was of the murder weapon—a 9mm pistol with Malik's fingerprints all over it. He slid them across the table.

"This was found at your place," Detective Harris continued. "Care to explain?"

Malik's eyes briefly scanned through the pictures before he leaned back and didn't respond.

"We got an eyewitness placing you at the scene. They saw you running, gun in hand. We have ballistics matching your weapon to the bullets in Alvarez's body. We also have text messages showing your beef with the guy." Ortiz finally spoke, his voice cool but firm.

Detective Harris leaned forward.

"Everything points to you, boy. Now, you tell us what happened, and maybe—just maybe—we can work something out."

Malik didn't flinch. Instead, he gave them a lazy smirk.

"Lawyer."

The room went still for a moment. Harris sighed, shaking his head. Ortiz clenched his jaw.

"Come on, kid," Ortiz pressed. "This is your one chance to make it easier on yourself."

Malik stared at them, unfazed.

"Lawyer."

Calloway muttered a curse under his breath, closing the file.

"Fine. Have it your way."

A few minutes later the heavy metal door swung open, and Dylan strolled in, his arrival causing Harris to facepalm while Ortiz wore a slightly terrified expression.

Dylan was not necessarily a veteran lawyer with an outstanding record— but he was a rising star who showcased his potential in 20 Shot's murder case.

It was lawyers like this that the police hated the most.

"Gentlemen," Dylan greeted smoothly, setting his briefcase down.

He barely glanced at Malik before shifting his attention to Harris and Ortiz.

"This interrogation is over. My client won't be answering any questions."

Harris exhaled through his nose, clearly irritated.

"You're making a mistake, Morningstar. He had the damn gun at his place."

Dylan smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"And yet, you still need him to talk. That tells me you don't have as much as you claim."

Buzz!

Harris felt like he had been stripped naked before everyone and quickly retreated to a corner. It felt like Dylan's gaze could see through all his secrets

"You don't seriously believe he's innocent, do you?" Ortiz stepped forward.

Dylan adjusted his cufflinks.

"I believe in due process. And right now, you have no confession, no solid chain of custody on the weapon, and a single eyewitness whose credibility remains to be seen." He turned to Malik. "We're done here."

Ortiz gritted his teeth in anger. He felt tempted to jump over the desk and pummel Dylan's handsome face into a pulp, but he quickly remembered 2 out of 3 home invaders were killed by Dylan just a month ago.

Harris shook his head, watching as Dylan guided Malik to his feet.

"You can delay it all you want, Morningstar, but we're gonna nail him."

"I'm pretty sure you said the same for 20." Dylan's smirk was cool and confident.

With that, he led Malik out of the room, leaving the detectives seething behind them.