An afternoon in the prect behind a desk proved more difficult for Marcus, not just because his having to put on a facade of not physically impaired so as to avoid his colleagues probing him about his "act", but also because like maives especially in this prect, paperwork was a bane he had to endure. Captain Ko arently very swift in his arra of keeping him desk-bound, as Sabrina Miller, Captain Ko’s assistant, came by right after his meeting with Kevin and dropped off a pile of paperwork for him to finish.

  But the afternoon was irely wasted, as he also took the ce to read through some of the case files he didn't get a ce to on the emergency reparations team. The current state of the iigation, at least acc to the case files he read, was that none of the victims that lived in the South-Western District had any known enemies. Most of them, just like the stereotype about people who lived in that district, were somewhat b, middle css individuals who enjoyed hiking, dog walking, doing volunteer work on the side and going on occasional wiastings and had retively small social cycles. The wife of the one worker who lived in the South-Eastern District actually came to the Prect te afternoon the day before and identified the body. She did not say much to any of the officers or detectives, but she agreed to doing a follow up interview to answer questions.

  In short - they found almost no useful lead so far, which would be quite a bad thing for everyone in this prect, with the city pressing on this issue and the prect itself being strapped with all kinds of resources. But with the ret experience, Marcus started searg on social media about Blood Rainbows just on a hunch, in an attempt to see if there was any indication that the brutal massacre at the ill-fated substation was reted to the paranormal.

  There was quite a lot of information about Blood Rainboarently. But just as Marcus expected, the information could be found from various different but simirly gossipy sources, none of which seem authoritative at all; what was more was that a lot of the information seemed either copy-pasted with only a few alterations for clickbait, or overly voluted and tradig to information from other sources, sometimes even to the source itself.

  Oher end, the search for whatever happened 15 years ago turned out to be much more difficult. And the reason was simple, 15 years ago, her the city or the then still newly founded unity collective of the South-Eastern District had adopted wide digitization of files, which meant that should he want to look into it, he would have to head to the city and unity collective archive and apply for access to these files, whi tur navigating through some time ing hoops aapes.

  Detective Shrevas aive Landed up not returning to the Prect by the end of the day like he had hoped, so Marcus had to che with them aime.

  The bus ride home seemed more stressful, slower and for some unknown reason, more noisy than usual. It might have beeo the pain he was feeling, Marcus thought to himself.

  It took another 15 minutes for him to get back to his apartment - the usual road, which would only take him 10 minutes normally, became a lot more difficult to traverse with injuries and possibly toxic remnants in his body. By the time he reached the door, he was already panting like a dog.

  “Son, where were you st night?” His father pulled the door open and asked with a relief and bags below his eyes: “I called you a few dozen times. I called your prect st night, and they didn’t say anything.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. Sorry for not calling earlier. ” Marcus walked into the apartment and sighed: “I was caught up in a case a my phone somewhere. And it ended up broken, so I’ll get a new oomorrow. Sorry to have worried you.”

  “No, no, as long as you are fihen I’m good.” Elvin sighed: “e in, take a break, I’ll heat up dinner. Being a detective really is stressful, huh?”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” Marcus chuckled and sat down on the sofa slowly: “I need a break, my back’s killih all the sitting.”

  “On it. I’ll bring it over in a big bowl.” Elvin nodded and rushed into the kit.

  Marcus paid additional attention to his father while he was i, scrambling to reheat his dinner. It was not that he did not want to see his father happy, or active, or g about him. But this ge was way too sudden and had almost no prior indications. And now, with Marcus’ being pelled to give the paranormal world more sideration, he could not help but be wary of the “reason” for this ge: his father’s dreams, where he saw his mother for the first time in 15 years.

  “Ta-da! Soft Drink Chi.” Elvin put a rge pte of chi covered in thick, dark brown sauce along with a small bowl of rid a pair of chopsticks: “Your favorite when you were a kid. I remember you fuzzing about it at least twice a week. I gave it some practice, and I believe I’ve recaptured the magical recipe your mother had.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Marcus picked a piece of the chi and put it in his mouth - he still remembered this dish because like his father said, it was one of his childhood favorites, which should be cooked with a meticulously calcuted portions of soy saud a dark, caffeine-infused soft drink and thus have a good mix of sweet and salty taste. And the taste this chi had - was almost cooked to perfe, which earned Elvin an impressed look from Marcus. “This is really good, Dad, how did you do it? After all - you know, it’s been years.”

  “Oh yeah, funny thing - I dreamed about your main.” Elvin scratched the back of his head with a wide and somewhat dorky smile: “Just the night before the st, I dozed off when I was watg TV. And in that dream, we were just spending the weekend together, and your mother told me her recipe, even some of her tips and tricks - funny, huh?”

  “Wait, Dad.” Marcus stopped his chopsticks and looked his father in the eye: “Did you even know how to make it before this dream?”

  “That’s the magical thing!” Elvin almost ughed out loud: “I don’t! Not really! Or at least I think I don’t - gosh, I don’t even remember how to cook a lot of the things I used to. It’s just - it’s just so much - you know - ”

  “Yeah I know Dad.” Marcus thought for a brief moment, then nodded: “And enough about me Dad, how are you feeling? Did you eat?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I ate earlier. You go ahead and finish it all.” Elvin shook his head: “And when you’re done, go to bed a, leave the dishes to me. I know how much back pain sucks. You need a lot of rest. Go to work ter if you , huh? Bad punks are still gonna it crime even if you’re on time all the time.”

  “Okay.” Marcus sighed: “Thank you, Dad. But I do have one question, if you have a moment.”

  “Oh, of course, what is it?”

  Marcus hesitated with how best t this question up right now: “Um, Dad, do you realize this is quite unusual? I mean, I’ve never - ”

  “Oh yeah. I know, I know, son.” Elvin interrupted Marcus, shaking his head: “I absolutely do. You know, son, I have been a useless and dreadful drunk for too many years. Even with my mind and intelleot as they used to be, I tell that this is far from normal. But - I want to see where this goes, and I want to enjoy this very journey if I . And I hope I be more help to you through it.”

  “Dad, believe me, I am very far from being an expert or eveely qualified to talk about this.” Marcus put down his bowl and chopsticks: “But I don’t have to be, to know that this kind of thing could be dangerous. So, be careful, okay?”

  “Of course, son.” Elvin patted Marcus on the shoulder: “I still have you.”

  His father’s hand and arm were warm, steady and firm, unlike what Marcus expected from someone who had been drowning in alcohol for years. This could be a sign that Marcus was unnecessarily ed. But, erring on the side of caution, he felt that he should still keep a. He had plenty of time before he o go into as anyway.