In the second-floor conference room of the East End Precinct's new building, Bob sat at the head of the table. He took a drag from his cigarette, staring at the whiteboard someone had wheeled in for the occasion. Scrawled across it in barely legible handwriting were several keywords: Church, Monsters, Fake EMTs, Girl - Raven, Father - ?
Taped to the board were several photographs, blurry, hastily shot images that the forensics team had managed to capture before the demon corpses had dissolved completely. Even with the poor quality, they were deeply unsettling.
He exhaled a stream of smoke toward the ceiling and broke the silence.
"So do I really have to attend this kind of technical meeting too?"
He glanced around the table at the assembled officers: Marco, Darnell, Edward, and Otis. When his gaze landed on Marco's serious expression, he cleared his throat and stubbed out his cigarette.
"Let's sum this up." He jabbed a finger at the whiteboard. "We've got a girl. From... what was it called again?"
"Azarath," Marco supplied from his seat.
"Right. Azarath." Bob tapped the board. "Name's Raven. Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. She's being hunted by her father, because she ran away from home. She said father sent a batch of monsters that look like they crawled out of a barbecue pit in hell, plus two assassins with shitty disguises, trying to drag her back. And all of this happened in a church in our jurisdiction, where they blew a giant fucking hole in the altar."
He swept his gaze across everyone present, then continued.
"Now, doesn't that sound like a standard custody dispute? Take out the monster part, and it's just some rich asshole trying to get his kid back. Maybe there's an inheritance involved. Some family drama bullshit."
"Chief," Edward spoke up. "I don't think we can simply remove the 'monster part' from this equation."
"Yeah, no shit." Bob lit another cigarette. "Which is why I'm asking you, Ed. You're the smartest guy in this room. Tell me, are these so-called supernatural phenomena real? Especially the part where these 'demons' were killed by regular bullets?"
Edward stood up, but Bob immediately waved him back down.
"Sit, sit. Too formal makes me nervous. Just talk like a normal person."
"Very well." Edward settled back into his chair. "First, I regret to inform you that supernatural phenomena do, in fact, exist. This conclusion isn't based solely on the test results from the organic matter we recovered from those creatures. It's something that's been around us all along, we just haven't been paying attention."
He nodded toward Otis.
"Otis, would you mind demonstrating?"
Otis stood up nervously. He glanced at Bob, then at Marco, then back at Edward. Finally, he took a breath and pursed his lips, letting out a series of short, sharp whistles and clicking sounds.
Bob frowned. "What's he doing? Should I give him a vacation too?"
Marco said nothing, just tilted his chin toward the window.
A moment later, small furry shapes appeared on the windowsill. At least a dozen of them, climbing up the drainpipe, slipping along the wall, and dropping onto the floor in a neat line.
"FUCK!" Bob jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. "FUCK! I'm going to sue that goddamn cleaning company into bankruptcy, they didn't even get rid of the rats... rats?"
He stopped mid-rant, staring at the line of rodents sitting at attention on the floor. Then he turned slowly to look at Otis.
"I thought Bastien was your pet. I didn't know you had this many pets."
"Technically, they're not my pets," Otis said quietly. "They're... warriors. They answer my call."
"Warriors." Bob repeated the word. "So what can they do? Bite people?"
"Not just biting." Otis smiled. He let out a sharp whistle, and the rats immediately formed a perfect line, standing upright on their hind legs.
Bob stared at them for a long moment. Then he started laughing.
"Holy shit! Otis, you're wasted at a police station. You should go to Dis—"
"Don't!" Marco shouted.
"Chief, no!" Darnell lunged forward.
"You'll get sued!" Edward added, half-standing.
Several people moved at once, cutting Bob off before he could finish the sentence. The chief raised his hands in surrender, nodding vigorously until they let him go.
"Alright, alright! I promise I won't say anything stupid." He waved them off, still grinning. "But seriously, Otis, this is amazing. Can you control police dogs too? Because if you can, I'll put you in charge of the K-9 unit."
"Uh... sorry, Chief. That's not something I can do."
"That's fine. We've got the positions but not a single dog anyway." Bob mused for a moment. "Though we could get a dog. When we file the report—"
"Chief, don't worry about phantom payroll right now," Marco interrupted. "I need to talk to you about something else later."
"Something else?" Bob blinked, then his expression sharpened. He slapped the table. "Right! Serious meeting! Sorry, Ed. Continue."
Edward nodded.
"From a logical standpoint, regardless of how much these supernatural entities violate known biology in their appearance, their physical structures are still unable to withstand the kinetic impact of modern firearms. This limits their threat level to something manageable with conventional force. As for the 'father' Raven mentioned, based on her description, the abilities he displays suggest dimensional manipulation, biological projection, perhaps some form of technology we don't yet understand. I'm hesitant to label it as 'demons' or 'gods' without more data."
He turned to Marco.
"You've had direct contact with Raven. Is her mental state stable? Could her account contain exaggeration or delusional elements?"
"Mental state?" Marco let out a harsh laugh. "She's a fourteen-year-old girl who says her very existence is a disaster and keeps talking about the world ending. You tell me if that counts as stable. But here's the thing. I saw that purple vortex with my own eyes. I smelled sulfur and ozone. And that thing that almost crawled through... That wasn't a hologram."
The room went quiet. Even Darnell, who usually had something to say, just stared at Marco.
"According to Raven, her father can't easily come to our world. There are conditions that need to be met. The vortex at the church felt like a forced attempt. The main threat right now comes from his agents. The monsters, and the human cultists who worship him."
"Damn it!" Bob slammed his hand on the table. "Cultists too? So abuse is contagious now?"
He rubbed his temples, looking like he wanted to light another cigarette but restraining himself.
"We're not Major Crimes. We're not equipped for this shit. Can anyone give me one good reason not to dump this kid in Arkham and let them deal with it?"
"Hey, Chief, that's not fair," Darnell spoke up. "The girl looks pretty miserable. And those monsters died when we shot them. That means they're not invincible, right? They're just ugly."
"Darnell has a point," Edward said. "I still believe that whether gods or demons truly exist—"
"Wait." Marco held up a hand, cutting Edward off. He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether to continue. Then he went on. "About gods and demons... what I'm about to say might make you think my vacation scrambled my brain. But when I was in Florida, I ran into something really weird."
All eyes turned to him.
"In Key West," he began slowly, "at the sunset celebration in Mallory Square, I met a man. He was wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt I've ever seen, reeking of wine, stumbling around like a homeless drunk. But he wasn't homeless. He could make things happen. People around him were dancing, drinking, losing their inhibitions like the air itself was intoxicating."
"Drugs?" Bob suggested.
"That's what I thought. But there were no drugs. I checked." Marco shook his head. "He called himself Dionysus."
"The wine god?" Edward's tone carried interest rather than disbelief. "From Greek mythology?"
"Yeah. And before I could arrest him for public intoxication, a woman showed up." Marco gestured vaguely with his hands. "She was wearing... I don't even know how to describe it. Like ancient Greek armor, but modern. Combat gear mixed with classical design. And she was..." He trailed off.
"Beautiful?" Darnell supplied hopefully.
"Terrifying," Marco corrected. "She moved like she could kill everyone in that square without breaking a sweat. Her presence was overwhelming. She called the drunk guy her brother and told him to stop embarrassing himself in front of mortals."
The room was silent.
"She said her name was Diana. From Themyscira."
"Wonder Woman?!" Darnell shot to his feet. "You met Wonder Woman? Was she really—"
"Sit down!" Bob barked. Then, to Marco: "Get to the point."
"The point is," Marco said, meeting Bob's eyes, "I talked to them. Both of them. I even punched Dionysus in the face. So if the gods of Olympus can hang out at a Florida beach bar, why is it so hard to believe that some interdimensional entity from Azarath exists? Maybe he's not a 'god' in the traditional sense. Maybe he's just an extremely powerful being from another dimension. Does it matter what we call him?"
Bob stared at Marco like he was trying to decide if his officer had lost his mind. Darnell looked like someone had just told him Santa Claus was real. Edward was deep in thought.
Finally, Bob sighed and lit another cigarette.
"Alright. Let's say I believe you. Let's say you really did drink with gods in Florida, and let's say there are things in this world we don't understand. What do we do now? Put that girl on an altar and worship her? Or sit around waiting for her father to send more monsters to wreck our precinct?"
"Hold on, Chief." Edward held up a hand. "Let me clarify something. Based on everything we know, we're not facing a god who can descend at any moment and destroy a city with a wave of his hand. We're dealing with an enemy in a distant dimension who must rely on agents and projected power to interfere with our world. The direct manifestations of the threat are physical."
"When you put it like that, it sounds way better!" Darnell thumped his chest. "It's just a matter of emptying magazines. That's our specialty!"
"That's still bad!" Bob growled. "Who knows if what she's saying is even reliable? What if one day her father's in a bad mood and just forces his way through?"
"Then what's our alternative?" Marco shot back. "Hand her over to higher-ups? If she really has research value, what do you think the odds are that cops like us get silenced by whatever black-ops agency takes her?"
Bob opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Or hand her over to those assassins? Same logic. Unless we all join their cult, they're not going to let us walk away after what we've seen."
"Fuck." Bob took a long drag from his cigarette. "You're right. You're right, and I hate it."
He stubbed out the cigarette.
"Until we find a better solution, or until some specialized department shows up to take this mess off our hands, that girl stays under our protection. And what we need to do is..."
He looked at Marco expectantly.
"We need guns," Marco said. "Heavy weapons. We need to upgrade our firepower to the point where we can go toe-to-toe with whatever comes through those portals."
"I'll figure something out." Bob pointed at Darnell and Otis. "Darnell! Otis! You two work with logistics. Inventory every piece of firepower we've got. Otis, you're in charge of the armory now. Have your scouts keep watch. Nobody touches anything without authorization."
He sighed, looking at the assembled officers.
"I'm starting to miss Alan. You people write reports like garbage."
Even Edward had the grace to look embarrassed.
"I'll submit a request to procure new equipment," Bob continued. "And if anyone upstairs asks questions, we'll say we're dealing with Gotham's increasingly militarized gangs. Ed!"
"Yes, Chief?"
"I don't care how much it costs, figure out a way to give us an edge. We're counting on you."
"Happy to help."
"Marco!"
"Chief."
"All officers report to you now, including me. You're responsible for keeping an eye on that walking disaster and getting as much useful information out of her as possible. Reinforce security at the precinct, especially the holding area and her temporary accommodations. I do not want to wake up one morning and find this building torn apart by demons."
Bob stood up.
"Alright, everyone to your posts. Move fast, for your own damn lives."
The officers began to file out. Marco was halfway to the door when Bob called out to him.
"Hey, Marco."
Marco turned back. Bob's expression brightened slightly.
"Earlier you said you had something else to tell me?"