Tom wasn't a very special student in the Shelby County Schools system. Average grades, average height and weight, no sports besides two years of track sophomore and junior years. He wasn't the president of any clubs, or even in one. Hell, he barely even talked to anyone outside of the teachers when they asked him questions.
Tom sat boredly in his US Government class and listened quietly to what Mr. Brommor had to say about the Supreme Court case Miranda vs Arizona and about Miranda Rights and his personal run-in with their workings. Truthfully, what he was saying would have been interesting if Tom hadn't been thinking about his Criminal Justice II homework.
During a particularly long-winded part of the story about how long he had to wait in interrogation, Mr. Brommor was interrupted by a phone going off rather loudly. It took Tom a few moments to realize that it was his phone, the important one. His personal cellphone was in his backpack somewhere, but his work phone in his jacket was going off like a siren.
He took it out and Mr. Brommor motioned for him to bring it up to the front.
"You know the policy," the teacher said. "Give it here."
"Sorry, I've gotta take this. It's a call from work." Tom pushed the answer button and had a short conversation with a guy from work before hanging up and starting to pack up his stuff. It looked like he could get away with just leaving until Mr. Brommor stood up.
"Bring me the phone, Tom," he said, in a demanding tone now.
Tom sighed. "Look, Mr. Brommor, I need my work phone on me at all times. I'm on call twenty-four seven and I can't just not go in to work. I'm really sorry, but I have to go. I'll come by early tomorrow and get whatever I missed today. I gotta go."
Tom started for the door, and Mr. Brommor warned him, "I'm writing you up for insubordination. That's one day of OSS right off the bat, Tom."
"Okay, if I don't get myself downstairs in about three minutes, my boss is gonna write me up for insubordination, and I won't just get fired, alright? I'm sorry, but I'll get my boss to call you and explain things, alright? Alright, bye."
Tom left the room and hurried down the hallways to the stairwell, where one of his co-workers was coming up to find him. They met half way and Tom groaned at the look on Harvey's face. Something bad had happened, Tom was sure of it.
"Greg isn't happy with you. He called you twice today before you picked up."
"What do you want me to do? I already said that all my stuff is in a gym locker during fourth period. That's twelve to one guys, you know not to call me then," Tom said in his defense, as if Greg would care at all.
"Greg has the file on this one," Harvey said, adjusting his tie a bit.
"What a surprise. Is it just you and Greg, or did he bring the whole posse down here to get me?"
"It's just us this time. Everyone else is handling the situation," replied the stoic man.
Tom's brow raised. "It's that bad? What, did three oh one thirty get sent back?" Tom hoped to God that his joke wasn't the truth. He truly did not like it when three oh one thirty came around, even if it was just a fleeting meeting.
"Impressive. We might just have to switch you to the thirteenth division if you keep that up," Harvey joked, his voice as serious and monotone as ever.
Tom groaned with almost exaggerated contempt. Almost exaggerated. Three oh one thirty was his second case subject, and she wasn't one that anyone would take freely. It had been a joke to give him the assignment, well, not really a joke. It was more akin to hazing for a fraternity than a joke.
The pair walked into the main office where Greg was busy trying to work something out with the office attendant to let Tom get checked out of school early. There were a couple problems with his method though.
"I'm sorry," repeated the office worker. "But if you're not on his emergency contacts list, and if you're not blood related to him or a spouse of someone who is, I can't let you check him out. That's how it works. And I really couldn't do that anyway because work isn't a reason for absence."
Greg shook his head and pulled out his badge. "Ma'am, I'm with the United States Department of Internal Affairs. Thomas Lanzig is coming with me. We'll have someone come up here later to explain the situation, because the last time we did it, you didn't seem to realize that we were serious."
Greg turned around and didn't say another word as he handed Tom a hastily written excuse note and a manila folder with several papers in it and clipped at the top with two paperclips. He, Tom, and Harvey left the school and got into a black sedan without any confrontation from the school staff or anyone else around.
"Fuck Greg, you don't have anyone else who can get this one? I've already taken care of this one twice," Tom whined in utter futility to his boss as they pulled out of the school drive.
"It would make you an expect on the subject. Three oh one thirty hasn't been calmed down since we got her back in two days ago. She's-"
"Yeah, yeah," Tom interrupted. "She's been with us for two days and hasn't shut up or calmed down any since she got here. I get it, I can read the file. But why the hell did you pull me out of school for this? Isn't there anyone else that can do this. I mean, Harvey could do it, right?" He turned to his friend for affirmation, but the man just shook his head.
"No," he said. "I wouldn't go near that case if I got Greg's job to do it. I'm not touching that one; that's all your business."
"Fuck me," Tom said to nobody in particular as the sedan blew through a stoplight that suddenly turned green after turning yellow.
"Just deal with it, Thomas," Greg said, annoyed. "That's why we hired you; you're not good at it, but you're one of the few that can do this job. And that's enough complaining out of you, or I'll give you thirteen twenty-two on top of this one."
"She's back too? Fuck, did everyone lose their minds this month?"
"Something's got them unhappy and dangerous. You know the drill, so just do your job." Greg went silent, and that was all he needed to do to assure that the conversation was over. Tom looked over the case file, pretty much the same one as last time except this time she hadn't killed anyone. Yet. Based on the information, she was giving the narcotics and medical workers a difficult time.
The drive wasn't long, and the three Internal Affairs agents entered their stationed regional headquarters without so much as a sideward glance from the security guards. As simple as the place seemed, it was really a mess of parking garages, conference rooms, cells, and a maze of hallways underground.
They went down a lift and then passed through a few hallways to a conference room for assignments that were taking place inside the facility. Tom sat down next to two other agents who were being debriefed and about to leave. He only caught the end of their debriefing before the director dismissed them and took Tom's case file.
He rifled through it for a few seconds before sliding it down the table to Greg. He took off his horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Her again?" he asked. "This is the third time in three years. What's wrong with this one?"
"It's not just her, sir," Greg replied. "There's something wrong with several of our repeats recently, namely their timing. Something has them stirred up."
The director took a sip from his glass of scotch and shook his head. "It's always something with these damned demons. The equinox is coming up, the eclipse, sunspots, planetary alignments, seasons changing. I've even heard 'it's just that time again' from three oh one thirty. Find out what it is and make sure we know how to fix it."
"Yes sir," Greg said as he stood to leave.
"And you," the older man said, direction his attention and the tip of his glass toward Tom. "Don't screw up. Dismissed."
"Yes sir," Tom said as he left with Greg and Harvey. They made their way down a few hallways to a corridor that was empty except for the cell at the very end. Not a bad cell, pretty comfortable actually. A bed for two, and bathroom, sofa, table, chairs. It was more like a little apartment than a detention cell for non-human lawbreakers.
However, she had torn herself a new playpen again, as the director had put it the first time. Most of the furniture was scattered all down the hallways in pieces, and a number of narcotics and medical agents were retreating back toward the exit, with just a few leaving unscathed. It looked like half a division had been down here just for one demon.
"Get the fuck out! Everyone! No more of those damned shots! I'm not calming down until I get someone willing to-" The demon stopped mid-sentence as she tossed an agent in a lab coat out of her cell. She sniffed the air with an acute sense of smell before turning her attention directly at the trio heading her way.
"Aw hell," Tom groaned.
"Take it one step at a time, rookie," Greg said.
They got about three quarters of the way to the cell before the last of the agents were behind them and safe. At that point, the demon started walking toward them.
"Alright, that's far enough," declared Greg, pulling out his gun. Harvey already had his leveled with the demon's head. She stopped short of the trio and narrowed her eyes.
"Alright, but don't send in any more of those freaks with needles and drugs. I'm tired of that. I want a real man to come in here and satisfy me like I deserve."
