The First Age

"Can't you feel this world is changing? Moscow is its bloody heart, the epicentre of what is to come. Of course we're dangerous. You and I could raze this world if we chose. Sooner or later, someone will try."
Sören's lips twisted a scornful frown. The CCD was not interested in protection, only in securing its place at the top of the chain now that the world had shifted. Sarkzoy might view himself the white knight, but he was little more than a pawn in a larger game. The CCD did not even admit to the existence of men like them, and they would continue to deny it until their hand was forced. The day was coming. Sören did not intend to be caught in the cross-fire. Nor did he intend to be trampled underfoot.

Despite the pains Sarkozy went to to try and invoke a sense of duty, Sören was unmoved. He did not feel obligated to offer answers, even now, despite the cop's attitude of entitlement to them. His actions spoke what his words refused; he complied, albeit coldly, and he had not raised his gifts once, though he could feel the maelstrom thunder its call. In his eyes it was exoneration enough; words were an unnecessary peripheral, apt to secret lies amongst their promises. But since the man insisted.

"Not coincidence,"
he agreed. The anger had diluted, but irritation still clipped his words. Sarkozy had already mentioned the ring, and Sören held no interest in discussing it further. He knew perfectly well what the draw had been; he'd felt it himself. Any further Sören did not wish to enlighten. "Had I not been there, your girl would be dead."
What more was there to tell? Nothing else would issue forth willingly, not without motivation. Sarkozy had hardly endeared himself.

"So tell me, Detective Sarkozy, what exactly is the CCD doing to keep people safe from men like us."
The question came dryly, but the interest was sincere, despite the unspoken 'besides harassing the innocent' implied by the tone.

Smiley reeked of arrogance and contempt, utterly lacking any interest in accepting Ivan's overtures to him. He'd treated the man with as much respect as the situation warranted.

Truth was, though, Ivan's hands were tied. He really didn't have anything on the guy, nothing that was admissible in a court at least. Smiley's words echoed his thoughts. The world was changing. He mentally shook his head. People who could use the power- people like him and Ascendancy and Smiley here- were going to complicate things as more and more of them cropped up or became known. They had no protocols or procedures, really. Would they have to register? What would be the public backlash?

He shook his head at the mountain of work all of that represented. He wasn't a lawyer or a law maker. He was just an officer, charged with protecting the city. But he would bring his concerns up to the Cap. Life was suddenly going to get a lot more complicated.

Smiley seemed to come to a decision, to bend- just a little. His words were short, as if they were being dragged out of him. "Not coincidence. Had I not been there, your girl would be dead."
It was something, he supposed. Ivan looked at him. Something....and nothing. He was about to press the man for details when it was his turn to be questioned.

"So tell me, Detective Sarkozy, what exactly is the CCD doing to keep people safe from men like us."
The words were dry and Ivan definitely heard the irritation at being there, but the look in his eyes said he was interested.

Ivan looked at the man for a moment, head tilting slightly, a ghost of a smile on his face. Suddenly, he felt they were in a poker game and the man had called. Time to ante up, he guessed. His smile became real, but his eyes weren't friendly at all.

He leaned forward slightly. clasping his hands together. He looked at the man, appraising him, before answering. "I keep people safe from men like us. Me...and people like me."
His smile faded. Let him guess what that meant. But that's how the system worked. Bad guys out there would have the power to hurt. Muscle, guns, the power. To protect people, the CCD would have to have the same. Simple as that.

His wallet buzzed with a text. He pulled it out and looked at it. The girl was stable. She'd even wakened briefly, enough to say that her attackers were a couple Gopniks. Fucking assholes, he thought with contempt. He had run ins with them many times. Like a pack of wild chimps, posturing and beating their chests, pathetically asserting their manhood- or lack of it, rather. They were very fond of ganging up on one person and then curb-stomping them in a frenzy. Bunch of cowards. Ivan felt the desire to go see if he could track these ones down. Maybe get into a bit of trouble. He shook his head mentally. Not his job anymore. The regular detective squad would see to it. He had bigger monsters to hunt. Xena was going to meet him.

He stood up. "Well, it looks like you are free to go. The girl woke up and told us who attacked her."
He smiled though there was probably a bit of a smirk in it. He couldn't help it. There was no love lost between the two of them. "Glad you called us. Hope you understand this wasn't personal. Just had to be sure."
Likely he didn't, nor would he care. But whatever. Ivan had better things to do with his time that to try to win over smug assholes who couldn't figure out why they were being questioned. Not too bright, Smiley. He didn't mention the power. It would do no use. Smiley knew about him, knew that the CCD knew about them. And that there were cops on the force who could handle it. Threats or warnings would be unnecessary.

He opened the door and let the man out.

War was inevitable. An inescapable facet of human nature, but not necessarily a darkness. It could not be stopped, only manipulated to the most advantageous outcome. Seeds planted beneath ashes. New life sprung from death. Sören was not a warrior, not naturally so anyway. Nor did he view himself as beholden to the law. Or the rule of the Ascendancy. Not that he was an advocate of chaos either, just devoted his own sense of order. As such he did not take the cool threat in Sarkozy's tone personally, but he did contemplate the answer with the interest of a scholar. Detached. Watching the horizon adjust in light of new facts.

He did not like Sarkozy, not his attitude or his clear frustration at Sören's apathy. But neither did he dislike him. And when words of release finally issued forth, the irritation unravelled with it. "Likewise."
The words were curt, but not false. Impatient, perhaps. Sören stood, wrapping his coat over his arm. He did not ask after further information on the girl. Or her attackers. Or the ring. The flicker of a frown tugged down his lips, but was quickly dismissed. He left through the offered door.