A middle-aged cop approached, rubbing his eyes like he'd been up all night.
Zane turned, earpiece still in one ear. "Yes? Can I help you?"
The cop sighed. "Mind following me for a sec? You match the description from the casino camera. We'll check, clear you, and you're gone."
Zane raised an eyebrow. "And if I say no?"
"Then it gets more paperwork for both of us," the cop said, already tired of the conversation.
Zane nodded once. "Fair enough."
He followed the officer to the nearest cruiser. Four other men were already cuffed, sitting on the curb with slumped shoulders.
The cop pulled a reinforced metal cuff from his belt. "Hands."
Zane extended his wrists. Click.
A second later, the system chimed softly in his mind:
[Warning: Equipped device restricts system storage access and special movement abilities until removed.]
Zane's expression didn't change.
Useful weapon, he thought. But did they really have to go this far?
Then again — collapsing a casino owned by the ruler's brother probably warranted it.
He stared at the cuff and wondered if it restricted his body stats.
Then — internally — he tested it.
A gentle twist.
The cuffs groaned, metal fibers straining.
He could snap them like cheap plastic.
But he didn't.
Instead, he looked up at the cop with that same faint, dangerous smirk.
"Lead the way."
The cop blinked, thrown off by the calm.
Zane followed without resistance, wrists cuffed, mind already three steps ahead.
They were placed in the cruiser, and the cop started driving them to the station. On the way, Zane asked, "How exactly are you guys going to find out who the culprit is if you don't really have a clear image?"
The cop replied, "Don't worry about it, kid. That's for the station guys to figure out."
Zane stayed quiet, like the others. He knew that pushing too far could make him seem suspicious.
Almost an hour passed before they finally arrived at the station and were placed in holding cells.
A short while later, another cop approached them.
"Alright, listen up. For those of you who don't know what's going on—the casino in the Downstream Slum was attacked. Five of you match the suspect description, so we're running a system storage check. You'll need to display your level and stats."
Two more officers entered the room, wheeling in a portable full-body System Scanner.
Hey, System, Zane asked internally. Can you identify that machine?
[Yes. The device is a System Scanner designed to access player storage and display status information, regardless of privacy settings.]
Hmm. That might be a problem.
Hey, System, Zane asked internally, is there any way to change my stats?
[Negative.]
Zane clicked his tongue. Tch. You really are useless.
What about a shop item? Something that can temporarily reduce my level, stats, or skills?
[Store access is temporarily restricted. Equipped restraints limit System functionality.]
Zane's lips twitched — almost a smile.
Now this really feels like checkmate.
And starting a war inside a safe zone wasn't an Ideal option. Not yet.
Alright then, How does the device work? Does it use electrical components?
[Yes. It has electrical components, but it does not require an external power source to function.]
Alright… what about resistance to short-circuit attacks?
[This is the basic version of the device. No, it does not have resistance to electric-based attacks.]
Guess the ruler wasn't rich enough to get a higher version, Zane thought. I should have an electric skill in my set somewhere.
The System interface flashed across his eyes. He scanned it thoroughly, analyzing for the most effective option.
Ah… there it is.
Shock Wave — a skill that releases jolts of electricity around the user up to a defined range. If the energy is concentrated along a line instead of a radius, the effective range increases.
Now that's perfect. He could avoid hitting anyone else and focus it solely on the machine. A full-radius Shock Wave would have been far too noticeable.
Better pin the skill for future use, he thought, committing it to memory.
After a while of installing/setting up the device—though Zane wasn't really sure what they were doing—they started calling them out one by one.
The first guy stepped forward and was uncuffed, then instructed to enter the device as it began scanning for information.
Zane sent an electric jolt toward it, and the machine blared a sharp beep, confusing the police.
"Okay, that wasn't supposed to happen. Let's try again," the cop said. As the next person passed through, Zane, like before, sent another jolt. Sparks danced across the device's surface, lights flickering violently. The scanner whined, then shuddered, forcing the police to step back.
"Damn, is this thing broken or what?" one cop muttered.
"I guess there's no way of checking," another cop said from behind. "These guys are from the slums anyway. There's no way they could bring down a casino. Let's just release them."
Zane walked out of the holding area first, wrists free now, the other four men trailing behind him in a loose line. The station doors were just ahead when—
"Stop right there."
A deep dominating voice rolled down the corridor like thunder.
Zane slowed. Stopped.
The others froze mid-step behind him.
He turned slowly, earpiece still dangling from one ear, faint smirk already curling his lips.
A tall, broad-shouldered cop stepped forward — older, uniform crisp, eyes like steel. The kind of man who'd seen every lie and still expected more.
The cop who'd ordered the release earlier shrank back, suddenly very interested in the floor.
The new officer's gaze locked on Zane — the one in front, the one who didn't flinch.
"The scanner glitched. Twice." His voice carried the weight of finality. "Coincidence? Maybe. But if the device doesn't work…"
His lips twisted into a slow, ugly smirk — the kind that promised locked rooms and no cameras.
"…then interrogation is next."
The corridor went quiet. The other cops shifted. One of the previously cuffed men behind Zane swallowed audibly.
Zane stood perfectly still, hands loose at his sides.
Then — very slowly — his own smirk deepened.
Not mocking. Not angry. Just calm. Dangerous.
His eyes met the cop's.
A glint flickered in them — cold, almost bored, like he was looking at a puzzle he'd already solved.
The cop's smirk faltered for half a heartbeat.
Zane tilted his head slightly, voice soft but carrying clear:
"Careful."
The word hung in the air — not a threat.
A fact.
The cop's hand twitched toward his baton.
Zane didn't move.
Another ordinary morning, he thought.