Glassed Destiny

Empathy and Telepathy

Well, there went that idea. It looked like he was back to square one. Now he was going to have to scour through the databases again. There was nothing left for him to physically check, and, of course, no physical evidence to be had. No hints, no clues, just a whole bunch of nothing.

This one must be a professional at what he did. He cleaned up his tracks as well as Snake himself did. He would have to give him props when he caught him finally.

"Where have you been?" Felix asked as soon as he walked into the station. Not too many people were there, just the usual ones around the front desk.

"The sewer," he answered. It would be funny if he could give some snarky remark about how he belonged there, but knowing Fish Brains, he would find some way to turn it on him.

"You had to check out the sewers again?" One of the officers there asked. He was relatively young with muddy brown hair that never seemed kept and a soft face. "You must really love that place, huh?"

"I'd gladly trade, if you're looking for something different, Pete," he internally rolled his eyes. There were always the few that wanted to act like they were better than you in every job.

When you get to his age, none of that mattered. Time moves too quickly to focus on what others thought of you. At the end of the day, it really didn't matter.

"How often have you had to check them?" Felix asked. His eyes always held a galaxy of questions, and they were starting to get on Snake's nerves. Especially since most of them had been pointed towards him lately.

"A lot," he answered, walking past the two of them. "Criminals love them."

"I think you just like it," Pete snickered, following him with Felix on his tail. "You sure you don't live there?"

"Do I look like I live in a sewer?"

"Maybe."

"Pete," he stopped to meet the man's eyes. "If anyone of us could pass off as a sewer rat, it's not going to be me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he frowned, his fists clenching ever so slightly by his sides. He never realized just how many details Snake always paid attention to.

"It means you should consider shampoo," he answered. "Maybe a spa day would be good for you."

"You better watch it, Pretty Boy."

"Don't dish out what you can't take, Pete," Snake stopped him. "If you're going to talk shit, then don't get pissed when I talk it back, simple as that."

Before the angry ball of toddler rage could try anything, the radio on his belt went off. Snake used the time he was trying to figure out whether to answer it or not to grab Felix and get to the office finally. He'd rather not be responsible for dislocating a coworker's arm. The Sheriff didn't exactly like that too much.

"Does he always act like that towards you?" Felix asked, closing the door behind him.

"Not always," he shrugged, plopping down on one of the chairs that Jim had in the office. He quickly pulled out his tablet. "Let me guess: he's always been nice to you?"

"He's nice to everyone," Felix told him, sitting right next to him. "Everyone except for you apparently."

"Just be glad you never have to work with him," he pulled up some of his drawings that he had completed in the past. To most, they were just simple artwork of landscapes and people. Little did most know that they were pictures of memories that Snake had made throughout his life. He enjoyed drawing much better than recordings or cameras. They were easy to lose, while drawings could always be copied, printed, or backed up through a thousand different security codes to get into.