Side Effects

5 - Rookie

Tyche held his breath. Being guided through the interior of a police headquarters was very new to him indeed. He did not even think that he had been in a police station at all in his life - from what he could remember, anyway.

Many questions sprung to his mind - many questions that he did not particularly intend on asking since most of it could be confidential. A statement that could easily sum him up was that he knew his place - and at this point, his place was the lowest of the low in this new profession.

Tyche glanced around at the older faces in the room, intimidated by how experienced they all were. He felt like they were judging him, inspecting his every move. How long would it be until he became one of these people?

He frowned. Never, probably.

A gut feeling told him that he would not do well as a member of the police - he was too soft, too caring. But it was a career that he had suffered months of training for, and after all of the athletics he had to do, he couldn't waste it on running out of the police station. He hated athletics.

Stretching his body to an angle where he could see past his guide, he realised that they had arrived. On the thick wooden door read the words 'Ursa Kirralain - Chief Constable' written in black on a gold plate. The guiding policeman rapped on the door, thus resulting in fiery words to come from inside.
"Come in!"

The door opened and Tyche began to notice that he was breathing. He told himself to relax, but his face still looked plastered with the words 'help me'.

Sitting at a desk and glaring with the eyes of a dagger, sat Chief Constable Ursa Kirralain, a first sighting that Tyche would never forget. His boss had copper skin with sharp, eastern features, and thin lips that were coloured in the darkest of purple lipsticks.

The way she glared at everyone and everything made him feel as if she had never been happy in her life. Her aura oozed misery and dread onto him.

"Sir, this is your new employee - Tyche Lafayette."

Ursa took one long, cold glance at him.
"I don't want him - put him back."

Tyche's mouth dropped in shame. Was his career over already? Just one glance and he was rejected.

He looked down at himself - he was wearing smart enough clothes, all fresh and clean, so it could not have been that that she had refused.

Maybe it was his weight - he may had been agile in training but he had never been particularly thin. Or maybe it was his hair - no matter what he did to it, it stayed messy. The colour was also the brightest hue of white you would ever see, with blue tips on the fringe from the time he dyed it to give it more colour, and it had not washed out since.

Did he look unprofessional? Probably. But that could not have been a valid enough reason, surely.

"Sir, he has been transferred from the Comissioner himself." The policeman spoke.

"He sure hates me, doesn't he?" Ursa mumbled under her breath before letting out a fed-up sigh of frustration. Tyche's shoulders raised as he tried to stand as smartly as possible.
"The Commissioner sees potential in him, and I suggest that you do too."

Ursa looked back at her work files bleakly.
"What's his ability?"

Quiet. Both the higher powers in the room were now turned to Tyche, inspecting him. His shuffling feet to his anxious facial expressions. He forced a weak smile and moved a wad of hair from his eyes. This was his chance to show off what he could do.

He buried deep into his mind, and saw time speeding forward by a few seconds, an intercom sounding and leaves blowing from outside.
"Okay...", he readied himself, "... in five seconds, the intercom will sound."