Cornwell’s office was more inspiring than the man that it was made for and romantic in every manner for someone like Max. It was the embodiment of an end-of-career goal in his eyes. Spacious enough to have the walls lined with filing cabinets and bookshelves and enough room to set up a yoga mat with reach still to spread one’s arms. There was a tiny space between the bookshelves big enough to fill with an intimidating amount of certificates, diplomas, and awards. A fine mahogany desk sat three computer monitors, pictures of significant moments framed in the same wood, and numerous knick-knacks Max considered paperweight. Other decors did not fit his taste, such as a fish tank, dartboard, tacky clock and pictures of Mrs Cornwell and their kids.

The man this was made for could fool anyone with his military veteran stature. He was a man in his late fifties. Arms that look like he used to wrangle cows, but with a beer gut, Cornwell was in a constant battle to hide with a straight back. He had a face that screamed the horrors of warfare with a scar across it that looked like someone almost took a good chunk of him as a souvenir. Whoever got to him took an eye from him that he all the time hid behind a pair of sunglasses or occasionally an eyepatch. His sharp chin added to giving his appearance that of a dying shark. The company smile he wore and spoke with only added to the image, “Officer Stone! Tell me, how is the wife?”

“We are keeping it together the best that we can. Yours?”

“My horse of a wife is fine. You came at a good time. Now I have an update about the spot opening…” Max’s weariness and wariness melted as he found himself erect at his words. Cornwell saw this, got a laugh at his expense briefly, and sat a stack of papers in front of himself, “Background Check, Psychology Exam, Academy Score, Fitness, Recommendations, Arrest, and Accomplishments. Cleared, Below Average, 95%, Perfect, ten and… well, I don’t know how to say this…” Cornwell’s words continued to trail off as Max went over everything he had just said. There was nothing about where this conversation was heading that he liked.

“It is okay. Just come right out with it.”

“The FPC wants to see more fieldwork out of you. You currently have fewer arrests than most, and you have nothing that makes you stand out from the other candidates that we have for the position.”

“But what about the case I have been on for half a year now!?” The moment that his Commander stopped talking, Stone interjected. Max’s entire motivation was snatched away from him in a single moment. All that time, friendships, and betrayals he had committed while undercover felt worthless. Chief spoke to him in a harsh growl, “A case that is off the record?! Are you out of your mind, Maxwell? You should thank me for convincing them to let you temporarily carry a badge instead of interrupting me!” His growl that had started gradually went to a rumble and was replaced with his unflinching smile again. Stone’s tiredness lowered and rose again with Cornwell’s cheerful tone.

“Now we lack two police officers to patrol, so think you could continue pulling doubles and try to get some arrests?”

“C-Cornwell.” Max’s voice cracked, coughing it away and sluggishly raising his hands, “Sir, I only had two days off this month–“

“And a bigger paycheck that you forgot to complain about too! If you can’t do this, then I will find someone else who wants it more. The door is right there. Your desk will always remain.” His voice turned so monotone that Max swore this was an automated message. The dying shark huff Cornwell tended to do when he was frustrated caused his sunglasses to be askew enough to reveal his eyes. The damaged one was glassy and a milky white with a thin line that looked uncanny enough to make Stone’s skin feel like it was about to split open. The other eye was once blue but now had swirls of white going across its surface. Max could not move; even breathing was difficult for him in the seconds that lasted hours. His sense of time returned when Cornwell readjusted his glasses.

Cornwell interpreted Max’s transfixed state to mean he was staying. Cornwell continued, “You aren’t a real cop yet, but for a while, I will let you use the suit, shield and car of one. Do the Muruya Human Police Division proud, son, and I might let you keep all those things. Your keys and uniform are in locker 257B. Visit your wife and thank me later for my gift in the trunk. I’ll give you a two-hour break before I expect to hear you call in. Over and out!”

“Over and out….” Max had a sour taste in his mouth from the conversation. The implication that he was borrowing these things instead of having earned them made him physically ill. Still scratching at the back of his mind was how he had screwed over several people at the Blackwood Manor for nearly nothing. They both did an officer’s salute to each other, and Max went his way. His fingers barely grazed the doorknob when he heard Cornwell chuckle and gave one last retort, “Also, say hi to that little Brick that you are always flirting with. She is working Lock-Up duty today.”

It was not the slur that made him stop in his tracks but the accurate accusation. Nervously laughing it off, Max ignored the creeping heat of shame that spread across his cheeks as he replied, “Now come on, Chief, me with a nonhuman? There are plenty of cuter humans here, plus the last thing I want is an STD. Sammy would kill me.”

“She doesn’t have Dickends, and I’ll see what strings I can pull to make her your support. Over and out.” Max could still hear him laughing even several steps away from his office. There was still rain on his parade, but this was at least a cheap umbrella.