Chapter 247: Visiting the Shadow Boxing Arena
John led Bemis toward the source of the voice.
A man sat in a chair, holding a cigarette, wearing a black jacket with his back turned toward them.
"Hello, we are the police. Due to some special circumstances, we..." Bemis faltered, not knowing how to continue.
After all, they had trespassed on private property. This owner could easily take them to court, strip them of their badges, ensure they never wore them again, and possibly see them face even harsher penalties.
"We are from the Clinton Police Headquarters. My name is John, a Chief of Police, and this is my assistant, Officer Bemis," John said, stepping forward. After introducing himself, he gave a brief nod toward Bemis.
"Chief John... Officer Bemis... Then tell me, why have you trespassed into my establishment without my permission?" The figure turned around, facing them directly.
It was the face of a middle-aged man, his features etched with seriousness and a visible scar near the corner of his mouth. This was the "Underworld Mike." Unlike his former self, he was now wearing a mask—of sorts—since it wasn't convenient for his true face to have contact with John.
"It seems you are the new owner of this boxing arena?" John patted Bemis on the back, signaling for him to relax.
Underworld Mike looked at John calmly. "What if I am? What if I'm not? The first thing you need to address is the crime of trespassing on my premises."
"What would you like to do about it?" John asked, showing no fear. He had practically died once; he had nothing left to fear.
Bemis was incredibly tense. Clearly, we're the ones in the wrong, why is the boss acting so arrogant, as if he did nothing wrong?
"You've got guts. Why bother being a cop? Come work for me instead! I guarantee you'll have more money than you know what to do with," Underworld Mike asked provocatively. He wanted to see how John viewed the police profession now that he had lost Captain Mike.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't become a cop for the money," John replied. He didn't lack money; with his current abilities, he could have anything he wanted.
"Then why?" Underworld Mike took a drag of his cigarette.
"It used to be about punishing evil. Now, it's about honoring a man's dream," John said. Mike had often mentioned that his dream was to become a Police Commissioner. Now that Mike was gone, John was determined to fulfill that dream for him.
"A dream? Heh." Underworld Mike chuckled. "Interesting. State your purpose, and I might overlook your intrusion."
"To find out who the new owner is, and secondly, to retrieve his body." John pulled out a photo of himself and Captain Mike.
"Huh?" Bemis was baffled. We just needed to know the owner, what's this about a body?
"I'm the owner, you've settled that part. As for the body?" Underworld Mike tapped his fingers on the desk.
John placed the photo on the desk. Underworld Mike picked it up with a practiced air of indifference, examining it closely. "Oh, so it's him."
"Where is his body!" John became agitated. It was obvious the new owner knew something.
"You saw the family photo in my drawer, didn't you?" Underworld Mike flicked some ash. "I took that from him. I didn't have time to deal with it, so I just tossed it in the drawer."
He offered the explanation for the photo proactively, even though John hadn't asked.
"As for the body... I'm sorry." Underworld Mike crushed his cigarette butt. "I had it cremated."
"And the ashes?" John froze for a moment before asking the whereabouts of Mike's remains. He had considered this possibility; underworld types often disposed of bodies this way. Since Mike hadn't been in uniform or carrying ID, it was a miracle they hadn't just dumped him in the ocean to feed the fish.
"I'm a decent enough man. I kept his ashes, just in case someone came looking for him." Underworld Mike picked up the phone on his desk and dialed.
Ring... Ring...
"Yeah, bring that man's ashes here. Right now." He hung up. "I've sent someone to get them. Is there anything else?" The implication was clear: leave.
John shook his head, then bowed deeply toward the arena owner. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Oh, and there's one more thing I might as well give you." Underworld Mike turned and opened a hidden compartment behind him, pulling out a letter and handing it to John.
John took the letter, confused as to why he was being given mail.
"It seems to be his will. I took the liberty of reading it," Underworld Mike explained.
John opened the envelope. His first priority was the handwriting—it was unmistakably Mike's.
Letter: "Hi John, if you're reading this, it means I'm dead. Don't worry, hell didn't want me, so I went to heaven..."
The letter was filled with Mike's self-deprecating humor and final words for his wife, children, and John.
"Thank you again, sir," John said, his tone shifting to one of profound respect. The arena owner had done him a massive favor.
Knock! Knock!
"Come in," Underworld Mike called out.
A large man in black entered carrying a black wooden box about the size of two adult palms.
"Give it to him," Underworld Mike said, nodding toward John.
The man handed the urn to John. It weighed a few pounds. John wasn't surprised; crematorium workers usually only place a portion of the remains into an urn rather than every single fragment.
"Alright, I've given you what I have. Are we done?" Underworld Mike lit another cigarette.
John nodded. "I am very grateful, sir. May I ask your name?"
"A minor detail. Don't trouble yourself remembering it, Chief John," Underworld Mike refused.
John nodded, his eyes full of gratitude, and turned to leave. Bemis hurried after him.
"Boss, do you want to press charges?" the man in black asked.
"No. You can leave now." Underworld Mike waved his hand, staying in the room alone to smoke.
Outside
John opened the Shadow Kingdom and brought Bemis back to an alleyway near the boxing arena.
"That power is so cool," Bemis whispered excitedly.
"Bemis, head back to the station on your own. I'm taking the afternoon off." John checked the time; it was almost the end of the shift anyway.
"Oh, okay!" Bemis replied quickly, then glanced at the box in John's hands. "By the way, Chief, whose ashes are those?"
"These?" John smiled warmly. "These belong to a hero who deserves our respect."
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