Chapter 6

"I have a question, Captain," Clare chimed in, raising her hand like a kid in class. Her red hair bounced as she waved her arm, drawing Malvin's attention—and everyone else's. "What is it?" Malvin asked, raising an eyebrow as the room turned to Clare.

"That demi-human wolf guy you fought... was he, by any chance, Philip Crude?" Clare asked, sparking a series of looks exchanged between the rest of the team.

"Wait a sec," Jos blurted out, connecting the dots. "Gray-haired wolf demi-human, tough enough to hold his own against the Captain... it's gotta be him, right?"

All eyes shifted back to Malvin, who nodded slowly. "Yeah, that was Philip Crude, before he became known as the Ironguard Killer."

"What a coincidence," Tores muttered, his brow furrowing. Philip Crude had gone down in history as a notorious serial killer, infamous for slaying five Ironguard officers within the span of a year.

Malvin clenched his sleeve tightly, bitterness flashing across his face. "If only I'd known what that bastard would go on to do… If I'd just shot him back then—"

"You made the best decision you could at the time, Captain," Loreen said softly, attempting to reassure him.

Malvin's frustration, however, spilled over. "Well, it wasn't the fucking right one, was it?" he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Loreen flinch. Realizing this, he sighed heavily. "Forgive me, Specialist Loreen," he muttered formally. "I shouldn't have snapped."

The room fell silent, a few jaws slack. "Th-the Captain just apologized," Clare whispered in disbelief.

"Wha-what just happened?" stammered Tores, equally stunned.

"Is that really the Captain?" Aeron asked with eyes ever so slightly wide.

"M-maybe someone's disguised as him?" Jos added, just as baffled.

"A-are you feeling okay, Captain?" Loreen asked, hesitant but concerned.

A vein visibly pulsed in Malvin's temple. "All of you—shut it! I'm going to continue now!" He snapped, standing to restore order. The team quickly silenced, stifling grins as he sat back down.

He took a deep breath and resumed, "Alright. After stopping Xain, who I immediately began questioning, the little brat gave me this line—"

---

"I really didn't steal anything! I'm innocent!" Xain exclaimed, looking up at Malvin with a desperate, wide-eyed expression.

Malvin crossed his arms, staring the boy down. "Oh, really? Then why did you try sneaking off when you thought we weren't looking?"

Xain shifted uncomfortably, suddenly sweating. "I-I had to go to the bathroom," he stammered, looking away to avoid Malvin's scrutinizing gaze.

"That's seriously the best excuse you could come up with?" Malvin asked, arching a brow in disbelief. 

Silas chuckled, securing handcuffs on the lanky, brown-haired thug. "Kiddo, just tell him the truth. Mal here isn't exactly known for his patience."

Malvin sighed, muttering under his breath, "Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?" Silas responded with a playful "Teehee," earning only a tired shake of Malvin's head. He turned back to Xain, leveling his gaze as he knelt down to meet the boy's eyes.

"Look, brat," he began, his patience wearing thin, "I can tell you're not innocent in all this. Just admit what you did, and you'll only get a light punishment."

Xain's mouth dropped open, his expression shifting to one of indignant shock. "H-how can you just accuse me of not being innocent? What proof do you have? Show me proof!" He pointed at Malvin defiantly, demanding evidence.

Malvin's eye twitched, his patience thinning further. "Nobody that's innocent talks the way you do," he muttered, clearly growing fed up with the twelve-year-old's attitude.

Silas chuckled as he finished securing handcuffs on the stocky thug, tossing Xain a sympathetic but teasing look. "Kiddo, I mean this in the nicest way, but… you don't exactly look innocent in that getup."

Xain's eyes went wide as he looked down at his clothes. "Wha-what's wrong with what I'm wearing!" he sputtered, clearly offended. 

The two officers shared a look, silently acknowledging the truth—Xain did look… sketchy. His outfit was a mismatched array of dark blue fabrics that practically screamed trouble. A long, tattered tunic hung loosely from his small frame, held together at the waist by a frayed leather belt. Rugged, patched trousers stretched down to a pair of worn leather boots, scuffed and dusty from hard use. A hood, pulled low over his forehead, cast shadows over his face, adding a mischievous air that made him look even more suspect.

"What is this, fashion discrimination? Do you just have something against people who wear blue?" Xain asked, waving his arms in frustration, fists clenched as he stomped his foot and threw a full-blown tantrum.

Malvin pinched the bridge of his nose, finally out of patience. "Alright, that's it! I'm just going to bring you back to the station along with the other two." He reached out, ready to grab Xain and end the theatrics.

---

"But guess what?" Malvin recounted, a bitter edge to his voice. "When that little shit was on the ground, he grabbed some sand or dust, and just as I was about to grab him, he threw it at my face! Something you'll soon learn he likes to do a lot!"

---

"Gah!" Malvin cried out, his eyes instantly stinging from the dust. The world blurred as he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. 

"Hey, get back here!" he heard Silas shout as footsteps pounded down the alley.

Rubbing his eyes quickly, Malvin straightened and took off running after Xain, leaving the two poor handcuffed thugs groaning on the ground behind him.