Eric Fortier lowered his binoculars, his gaze shifting from the distant glow to the woman seated nearby. Even among seasoned officers, she was an anomaly—unbothered, detached, as if this were just another night. The tension on the boat didn't reach her; she simply nodded along to the Mister Jamsman in her lap, lost in whatever cassette she'd chosen for the evening.
Despite lacking an official rank, everything about her presence spoke of experience. The CPD breaker jacket draped over her shoulders barely concealed the shoulder holster beneath, her pistol nestled within easy reach. A matching hat shadowed her features, but rebellious curls escaped its hold, half-veiling the face that would otherwise make her unmistakable. Her posture, too, defied the weight of the operation—legs crossed, one atop the other, ripped jeans meeting the sturdy black leather of combat boots.
Even with all the lethal equipment she bore, her frame remained deceptively slim and delicate even without the black longsleeve she wore. It was a stark contrast to the skills and abilities she wielded, a testament to the unexpected strength contained within her seemingly unassuming presence. She sat there, an intriguing portrait of a woman whose authority transcended the need for official titles.
"Ms. O'Hara," Fortier called out, his voice competing with the swamp's ambiance and the blaring music playing through the headphones of her Mister Jamsman. Fortier waited for her response, but when she didn't answer, he called her name again.
"Ms. O'Hara, can–"
"I heard you. I was waiting for you to continue on with what you had to say," Jackie O'Hara said as she paused her music, the upbeat tune coming to an immediate halt.
As she slid her headphones off her ears and around her neck, her gaze met the commander's. Both seemed slightly irritated, hinting at their short tempers and dissatisfaction.
"Well, what is it?"
"Given your background and your experience dealing with these types of criminals—"
"They're called Dread Hunters," she interjected, her voice husky yet soft.
Ignoring her, Fortier continued, "I trust that you'll manage yourself properly if things get out of hand."
"Awe, how sweet. Don't worry about me, Commander; if I were someone who needed looking after, I would've kicked the bucket quite some time ago," she said with a sly grin.
Eyeing her from down his nose, Fortier gave an unamused response. "We'll be relying on that. Due to your firsthand experience dealing with these Dread Hunters, someone in the department deemed your presence here would be 'absolutely invaluable'."
Turning away from Ms. O'Hara, Fortier shifted his focus to his subordinates. "Alright, men, the culprits are just a few hundred meters out. Get ready to move," he commanded.
"Let me have a look," Jackie requested, extending her hand.
The officers exchanged subtle glances, their silent murmurs hinting at the rarity of someone questioning the commander's judgment. In fact, no one had ever dared do such a thing. Amidst the whispers, Jackie reassured Commander Fortier, emphasizing that her intention was not to challenge but to aid, just as the Chief had instructed her to do.
"This isn't me doubting your direct intel, Commander, but considering how I'm the only one who's seen their faces, it would make sense for me to verify their identities."
Fortier began taking the binoculars from around his neck when Jackie snatched them from his hand.
"No need for that; this'll only take a second," Jackie said as she began peering through them, bringing the commander down to her height.
Taken by surprise, Fortier grunted. His squad resumed their murmuring once again, their discussion centered on the unexpected position their leader had found himself in. Fortier quickly snapped his head in their direction, silencing them.
Pressing a finger to his ear, he held down on his push-to-talk earpiece that connected him directly to the Chief of Police.
"Chief, come in," he muttered, a subtle edge of frustration punctuating his tone, careful to keep his words from carrying beyond his immediate vicinity.
"Commander Fortier? Is everything alright out there?" Chief Kota Nkosi's voice crackled through the device after a brief pause and a hint of static.
"Everything's fine, but are you sure it's permissible for a civilian to be present in the field?"
"Ah, you mean Ms. O'Hara?" the chief replied. "She'll be fine. Believe it or not, she's a valuable asset in a pinch. She's a seasoned contractor in a league of her own, just like her late father. Not to mention she can go toe-to-toe with the best of them. You don't want to get on the bad side of a woman like that."
Fortier released a resigned sigh.
The chief's next words carried a subtle weight with them. "Ms. O'Hara's involvement is crucial, Commander. For everyone's safety, do not hold her back. If lethal force needs to be taken, she's the only one capable of doing so effectively."
Fortier glanced down at Jackie, a silent acknowledgment of the chief's directive. "What are you saying? That we're all inferior to her? What is it that makes you place so much trust in her?"
"Son, her capabilities are beyond what either you or I can even fathom. I've seen them firsthand, and once you do, it'll make you really question your standing in this world."
"No man alive can make me question my standing in this world, Chief. It was predetermined, and I've never once strayed from the path. The law is my standing, and I am the law. Just as my father was in our former kingdom and his father before him."
Jackie glanced over at Fortier, having caught the last lines of what he said. She'd met many men in her life who thought the same way. Very few lived up to those words, while most only played with them. She could only wonder which Fortier was in a relatively peaceful place like Meteor Kingdom.
"That's real good," the chief replied, unsure of what to say. "Everything will be fine, Fortier. Trust your judgment, keep communication clear, and be careful out there."
"Yes, sir. Over and out."