Barry sat behind his desk, papers scattered in front of him, eyes darting across reports. He had been going over the numbers again and again, but the results remained the same: too many shootings, too many bodies, and too little progress.
He knew what this meant: more pressure, and they could let this get out of control. Barry understands that Caleb, his most trusted detective, was the only one who could stop it. But lately, Caleb has been quiet.
Barry felt he was focused, but not getting any closer to answers. It was beginning to worry Barry.
Barry let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck before he stood, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. His footsteps echoed through the small office as he moved toward the window, his hands gripping the blinds and pulling them open just slightly, enough to stare out into the dimming city skyline.
"Too many shootings," Barry muttered, his voice low, just loud enough for Caleb to hear as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
"Two weeks, Caleb. Two weeks of violence, of bodies, and we're no closer to understanding who's behind it."
Caleb stood silent for a moment, his posture tense as he watched Barry, feeling the weight of the words settle on his chest. He'd been buried in the case, every waking moment consumed by trying to piece together the puzzle, but the more he worked, the more things seemed to fall apart.
"I know," Caleb said, his voice rough with exhaustion. His eyes never left Barry as he took a step further into the room, the pressure of the situation bearing down on him.
"I'm doing everything I can, but whoever is orchestrating this, they're always one step ahead. Every time we make a move, they're already gone. I can feel it, this thing's bigger than I thought. Someone's pulling the strings, and I'm not getting any closer to finding them."
Barry's hand clenched at his side. His brows furrowed in frustration, and he turned back to the desk, pacing briefly, before focusing his piercing gaze on Caleb.
"That's the thing, Caleb. We've been chasing shadows. And every time we try to get a lead, we're just stumbling into more bloodshed. The public's scared, the streets are unsafe, and hell, the department's breathing down my neck. They want answers, Caleb. Fast. What the hell are we supposed to tell them?"
The frustration in Barry's voice was evident, the stress of weeks of failing to make progress finally breaking through. He wasn't just Barry the boss anymore, he was Barry the worried man who saw the city slipping away.
Caleb ran a hand through his hair, the exhaustion catching up with him as the tension in the room continued to grow. "We need more. More intel, more eyes on the streets, more backup, Barry. It's not just the usual street thugs we're dealing with anymore. There's a method to this madness. Whoever's pulling these strings has resources, has people, and we're outnumbered."
Barry took a deep breath, his lips pressed into a hard line. He knew Caleb's words weren't just frustration talking, there was something there, something he hadn't fully grasped yet. But the cost of failure was clear in his eyes.
"More men, huh?" Barry muttered, pacing back and forth again.
"You think that's what we need? You think more bodies on the ground will make a difference?" he shouted in frustration.
It's not just about numbers, Caleb. I've got the department pushing me for results. They want me to show them we're taking control. But if we move too fast, if we add more men without a clear plan, we're just going to make a bigger mess of things. The last thing we need is to tip off whoever's behind this."
Caleb's jaw clenched as he stepped closer, the fire in his eyes flaring. He was tired of running into dead ends, tired of seeing the same outcome every time he followed a lead.
"I'm not asking for a damn army, Barry."
Barry stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he studied Caleb, trying to gauge his detective's state of mind.
"And what do you want me to do, Caleb? Throw more men at it and hope something sticks? You know how the department works. I can't just give you what you want without consequences. There's a lot of politics involved."
Caleb's gaze hardened. "Then we'll lose more lives. More innocent people caught in the crossfire. You want that? You want the department to have a public scandal because we waited too long to act?"
Barry's eyes flashed with irritation, but his voice remained steady. "Don't talk to me like I don't care, Caleb."
The tension between them thickened, both men staring at each other, two forces at odds. Barry's stern expression met Caleb's intense gaze, neither of them backing down.
Finally, Caleb spoke, his voice low and edged with frustration. "The reason is simple: If we don't act, we'll be out of time. I don't want more bodies on my conscience, Barry. You want answers? I can get you answers, but I need the tools to do it. I can't keep fighting shadows with just my badge and a gun. If you really want to stop this… You need to trust me."
"Alright," Barry finally said, his voice quieter now. "You'll get more men, but we'll do it my way. We don't throw everything at it just because it's urgent. We move smart. You get me a plan, and I'll back you up. We're not just fighting crime here, Caleb. We're fighting for control of this city. But you had better make it count. Every move you make from here on out, better get us closer to the truth."
Caleb nodded, a fire of determination flickering in his eyes. "I won't let you down, Barry. I'll get this done. We'll find out who's behind it all, and we'll stop them."
Barry's expression softened ever so slightly, a brief flicker of trust passing through his gaze. "Good. Now get to work."
Just as Barry's last words hung in the air, the door to the office swung open with a sharp creak. Both Barry and Caleb turned, their eyes falling on the figure that stood in the doorway.
It was Justin, looking as out of place as ever, a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead and an expression that was too casual, too nonchalant for the gravity of the situation.
Caleb's blood ran cold at the sight. He'd just finished a tense discussion with his boss, and now this, Justin, the one person he'd been trying to keep under wraps, had somehow slipped past everything.
Barry shot Caleb a concerned glance but said nothing. Caleb's jaw clenched, a growing anger flickering in his eyes. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping violently against the floor as he crossed the room toward Justin.
"Where the hell have you been?" Caleb's voice was tight, low, and dangerously calm, too calm for someone so furious. His fists were clenched at his sides as he stopped just inches from Justin.
Justin's eyes flickered nervously, but he stood his ground, lifting a hand in a half-hearted gesture of surrender. "Relax, Caleb. I just—"
"Don't tell me to relax," Caleb snapped, his voice rising in intensity. "You think you can just walk in here like nothing happened? After everything that's been going down? After the damn chaos you've stirred up?"
Justin swallowed, eyes darting around the room. "Look, I just—"
"You didn't answer my question," Caleb cut him off, taking another step forward, backing Justin into the corner of the room. "Did anyone see you come in? Huh? Did anyone see you walk through that door?"
Justin hesitated, his lips pressing together into a tight line. He glanced over his shoulder, as though looking for an escape, but he knew there was none. He was cornered.
Before he could speak, the door behind him creaked again, a soft sound at first, followed by the unmistakable echo of footsteps outside. Someone was coming.