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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Special Circumstances - 6. Getting Answers

Two days later, I drove my motorbike onto a garage’s yard. The building was as desolate as the rest of the business park where it was located. Several cars were parked in front. Probably queued for repairs, some were right old bangers.

The lights were on inside, so the old scumbag was already working at eight in the morning. I wondered about the unexpected show of discipline and entered the garage we had raided so often. An old radio was playing in a corner. A pair of legs was poking out from under a car.

“Oi!” I kicked one of the legs slightly.

The man in his fifties in a blue oil stained overall was lying on a small trolley and rolled out to look at who disturbed him.

Geoff recognised me. I’d arrested him often enough. “Fuck. What d’ya want?”

“Just talk.”


He started rolling himself back under the car, but I jammed my boot under the trolley to block it.

“Look, I need a favour, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You? A favour? Worth my while? Ha!”

“Am I speaking Chinese?”

“Won’t ‘ave nuttin to do wit’ ya! Now, no warrant, fuck off.”

“Do I look as if I was here on police business?”

“You ain’t trickn’ me, mate!”

I grimaced, pulled out two banknotes and showed them to him.

“Fuck me, a copper playin’ dirty. What?”

“I need to check a car registration.”

He mumbled something under his breath but he got up and walked over to an old computer in his corner office.


“Kilo Victor,” I began.

“I ain’t no filth!”

I ignored the insult. “KV24 ART.” I needed information.

He typed the registration into the DVLR client system and got up. “Pay up!”

I gave him the two banknotes. He pocketed them and stepped aside.

I read the owner information. “Aegis - Luxury Car Rental. Fuck.”

I started to walk out.

“Pleasure doin’ business wit’ ya.”

I briefly stopped, considering a reply, but I walked on. No use trying to rescue the rest of my dignity here. The crook was still laughing when I stepped outside. Returning to my Kawasaki, I was more than ready to leave this place.

Unfortunately, this had been the only way to get information on the car. I was banned from entering any police premises, and I couldn’t ask any colleagues to check that car for me because doing so would be gross misconduct for them checking details on a car for a case they didn’t work on and for me asking.

My phone rang. My mood was instantly brightened by seeing Mike’s number.

“Good morning, boyfriend!” Mike said enthusiastically.

“Good morning, boyfriend. How was night shift without me?” It hurt saying that.

“I worked with Claire. She’s cool. She talks more than you. I wouldn’t have thought this possible.”

I could image Mike grinning as he said that. “Well, I don’t know what to say now.” I paused for a moment. “Heard anything?”

“No, not a word. I doubt they know how to treat me, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly, I was worried my problems were projected onto my boyfriend.

“Well, apart from this duty, I’ve only had one other duty with your shift since you explained we’re a couple, and now, you’ve been suspended. Claire of course asked how you were doing and how we got together, but I think it’s a bit too much for your colleagues.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what to expect either. Never had a boyfriend on shift. Anyway, best you go to get some sleep now.”

“You’ll come to my place around three, right?”

“Yes, I’ll come around to wake you up.”

“Jamie?” Mike asked softly.


“I love you.”

My heart made a little jump. “I love you, too. Have a good sleep.”

That call made me feel better. Mike had wanted to skip going on duty with my shift, but the fact that we were dating and I was suspended shouldn’t impact his policing experience.

My response shift was led by Inspector Patak. He hadn’t been pleased when I’d told him about Mike and me. It wasn’t anything homophobic. The man was so uptight about procedure he must’ve grown up in Germany. He’d complained about potential disciplinary pitfalls. However, me disclosing a relationship with a fellow officer was what policy dictated, so why had he been whiny about me reporting it?

I messaged Nam asking whether he was free for a chat, and he called back immediately. We chatted about the last shift and current happenings.

“Nam, how do you always know everything?”

“You just need to talk to people, Jamie. I keep telling you.”

“Yes, I know. I’m just not as social as you are.”

“Nonsense. By the way, I found CI Mwangi. He works in SFC.”


“Specialist Firearms Command.”

“Thank you, Nam. I know what SFC stands for. What I don’t know is why someone from armed response saw the need to talk to me.”

“The guy you described is a proper menace, isn’t he?”

“True," I conceded, but something didn’t ring true. “I need to think about that. Thank you for your help.”

“No worries, matey.”

“Have a good sleep.”

Having completed my most important calls, I drove to the dojo to train to clear my head. I was lucky there were some competent sparring partners. Five hours later, I was positively drained, and I headed for the showers. I had to make myself presentable to meet Mike. Having a boyfriend required me to rethink the routines I’d established over the course of the last half year.

In the meantime, Mike had sent me a list of groceries to buy. Did the guy not realise I drove a motorbike and not a van? To make matters worse, I didn’t even know what half of the stuff on the list was. Questioning my personal sophistication, I headed to the nearest supermarket, got the stuff or what I believed to be the correct stuff, and arrived at Mike’s flat. He came downstairs to open the door for me.

“Hi, sleepy head.” I kissed him gently then moved past him carrying the two shopping bags up the stairs. “These two just barely fit into my bike’s cargo box.”

Rolling his eyes, Mike said, “Stop moaning and let me put it away, you kitchen menace.”

I knew better than to argue and let him put away the items which required cooling while I stowed my biker gear. I returned and hugged him from behind.

I whispered in his ear, “The rest can wait, I can’t.”

“Gosh," Mike said in mock exasperation, “You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

He had a point, but hey! “Complaining?”

“Absolutely not.” He pulled me to his bedroom.

After the exhausting training session in the morning, I needed to take it easy. Luckily, Mike was completely in sync with me. After slow and passionate love making, we were lying on his big bed. Because my room in the flatshare was far too small, we spent most of our time at Mike’s place. This time, however, it was me who was cutting our cuddling short.

“Mike? Can I use your computer?” I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I found out the car belongs to a hire company in London. I want to check them out.”

“Good luck with that. What do you expect to find?”

“No idea. I doubt much. But if I don’t try, I’d never know, would I?”

I gave Mike a kiss, put on my T-shirt and briefs and then turned on his computer. While he got up to start preparing food, I began to search for information on Aegis Luxury Car Rental.

A while later, Mike called me into the kitchen to eat. I got up from my research and looked at the carefully decorated table and the steaming dish on the plates. Thanks to being with Mike, I now knew the dish was Beef Wellington, my acquired favourite.

I felt ashamed. “Mike, you’re a wizard. I feel I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Why would you say that? I do what I love doing.”

“Well, I’m very lucky having a chef as boyfriend, but not only that, you’ve made a nutrition plan," I pointed at the printout pinned to the fridge, “And I just feel I haven’t done anything to deserve that. On the contrary, I make you work at home.”

He took me into an embrace. “I love making you happy, and I really like being creative.” He took a step back and said, “Here, nobody is asking for stupid substitutions that ruin the dish, and I can use my own tools. Most important, I have a very grateful customer who rewards me with access to his hot body.”

I laughed. “So, you give me all these tasty calories, and then you make me train them off? But I mean it, I think I should start carrying my weight here.”

He smiled. “If you really want to, I’ll show you something. But I warn you, I’m not as good in mentoring than you are. Now, let’s eat.”

The meal was fantastic as usual and I enjoyed it thoroughly. However, once I’d helped cleaning up, I returned to my research.

Later on, Mike grabbed my shoulders to massage them slightly. “You’ve been at it for hours. Found anything?”

“I think so.”

“What?” Mike leaned closer, peering over my shoulder.

“It took me ages, but on page nineteen of the search results I found a contract between Aegis and the House of Commons. They provide cars for MPs. I went through all applicable MPs to check their pictures.”

Mike shifted position and stared at me. “Don’t tell me your posh driver is an MP.”

I opened a browser tab with the information page about a Member of Parliament and tapped on the screen. “That’s him.”

“Rupert Morris-Walker, Conservative member for Upper Sowton. That does sound posh.”

I changed to the next browser tab to display the CV for the man. It showed all the classic signs of the upper crust, Harrow Public School, Cambridge University, and finally MP. At thirty-six, he’d never worked a single day in his life.

“Yes. I’m quite sure he would’ve walked out of the courtroom. It explains why the super was there and why I’m now grounded. Fucking rich nepotist bastards!”

Mike ignored my outburst. “And what do you want to do now?”

“I need to talk to Morris-Walker about Darth Vader Man and check whether your theory is correct.”

“But you can’t ask him anything, Jamie!” Mike looked at me horror stricken. “First, if protecting him is the reason you’re suspended, you seeking him out will make it much worse for you. Second, you can’t just show up at Westminster Palace and ask to see the bloke.”

“Thought of that.” I showed yet another browser tab with details on the man’s constituency office, also listing Saturday morning visiting hours for constituents.

“But you don’t live in Upper Sowton, wherever that is.”

“Well, he doesn’t know, and I’ll find an address I can give if I were to be asked. It’s down Devon way.”

Mike straightened. “Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jamie.”

“Please believe me when I say I must talk to him. Anyway, it’s still three days until that time.” I leaned back into Mike and looked up at him. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Also, I had something made for you.”

He went over to his backpack and dug out a small box and held it out to me. Frowning, I got up and walked over.

“Mike, what’s this?” I opened the box and sitting on the white cotton was a key.

“Your key to this flat.”

I looked at him astonished.

He smiled and shrugged. “You’re here most of the time, and I thought it might make you feel more welcome. More at home.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“While I’d wish that, I understand you feel reluctant about giving up your independence.” Mike squeezed my hand. “No pressure. Honestly.”

“Thanks.” I kissed him. “This means a lot to me.”

I went to my trousers, fetched my keyring, and attached the newest key so he could see me doing it.

I took Mike into a hug. “You have the stamina to celebrate?” I asked between kisses.

“Again? Are you twenty-six or sixteen?”

“You’re only as old as you feel, old man over thirty.”

“Oh come on, then. I’ll show you ‘old man’.”

After sex, I had to go for a run. Leaving Mike home was hard, but over the last couple of days, I’d become increasingly restless. I always felt like charged, and I needed an outlet which I had found in running. Only then could I concentrate and focus my restlessness into action. This time, however, I thought about the key and what that could mean. Mike was right. I was reluctant giving up my independence, although I felt so strongly for him. I was pondering my options. Annoying was that I had to raid the fridge when I came home. I was so hungry.

The next three days passed in a similar fashion. Mike had to work lunch times and evenings during which I spent my time at the dojo, gym, or running. I only went to Becks’ place to wash clothes and to get new ones. While I cherished my time with Mike, I was anxiously anticipating visiting Rupert Morris-Walker in his constituency office.

The drive from London to Devon was long, but I’d set out with plenty of time to be there for ten. I’d tried not to wake Mike when I left, but failed. He’d gotten up, made me a couple of travel sandwiches, and wished me good luck.

The small market town offered a central parking lot and a High Street which had been converted into a pedestrian zone. The MP’s constituency office was located in the local Conservative Association’s headquarters right in the middle of town. As I expected, it was a small, dingy, Victorian building. Mentally, I shuddered when I entered the Conservative Association’s premises. I hated that party and all it stood for.

I was greeted by a young secretary. She took my name and asked me to wait. She was even so kind as to offer me a cup of tea which I accepted. While I hated to admit it, the offices had a personal touch. Pictures of Mr Morris-Walker during a recent campaign and in the House lined the walls. While not my type, he wasn’t an ugly fellow.

It was only a short while until the current visitor left, and the secretary called me to go to the MP’s office.

“Good morning, Mr. Artois," Rupert Morris-Walker greeted me with an outstretched hand. “I hope I pronounced your name correctly. How may I be of service?”

I shook his hand and took the indicated seat in front of his desk. “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

He didn’t seem to recognise me, and I hadn’t expected him to do so. “The matter I want to discuss is rather personal. It concerns an incident a week ago in which you were stopped by police while speeding in London Enfield. The police officer talking to you was suddenly attacked by a naked man who was well over two meters tall.”

His expression turned frosty. “What are you on about?”

“I was that police officer, sir. While I was talking to you, that guy picked me up like I was a puppet. I have reason to believe he was after you. You drove off, because he wanted to get at you.”

“I neither confirm nor deny any accusation of speeding, and I can only tell you I have given my account concerning an incident to the police already. It would be best if you left now, Mr. Artois.”

The time for words was over. I had to show him.

“I think," I began and concentrated on my inner restlessness, focusing it into something more than a vague feeling.

Energy streamed through my whole body, and I felt vitalised, powered up really, ready to go. I had control over that energy, allowing it to flow freely into me. I felt the world slow down around me, and it seemed Morris-Walker was frozen in place. I got up and went around the desk to the right of him.

I reduced the flow of energy into my muscles and felt myself slowing down so it seemed as if time returned to normal. I whispered in his ear, “There.”

Carefully increasing the flow of energy again, I went behind his chair to the left of him when I again loosened my focus to feel the world slow down again. I whispered in his other ear, “Is something.”

I concentrated to let the energy penetrate every fibre of my being, increasing speed. I went to lean casually against the office door. Letting the flow of energy ebb, I said, “Not quite right.”

Focusing for a last time, I went to sit in the chair again where I finally released control. I finished with saying, “Wouldn’t you agree, sir?”

If that little show didn’t convince him to talk to me, I was truly at an end.

He raised an eyebrow and turned to a little intercom. “Hillary, I do not want to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.”

He then turned back to me. “I see.”

“Well, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

Morris-Walker put a hand through his hair and drew in a long breath. “As you have noticed, there is more between heaven and earth than we are taught at school or the public generally knows. This can wreak havoc with our sense of reality when first exposed to it.”

What a pompous asshole. I was spooked by all of this. Uncharacteristically, I lost my calm. “Spare me the philosophy lesson, mate, and spill the beans! What’s going on here? What’s happening to me?”

“Oh dear," he said in this annoying upper crust accent. ”No need to become aggressive, young man.”

I had to calm down and return to my natural stoic demeanor. I took a deep breath. “I apologise, sir. Please forgive my outburst. I hope you agree current happenings are cause for grave concern.”

He looked at me sternly. I held his gaze, hoping my anger did not show.

“You see, a little manners can go a long way," he said. “I do not know much, but I will try explaining what you are experiencing. As I was trying to say, some people are gifted with abilities exceeding those of normal human beings. For some, like yourself, it is an enhancement in physical abilities, here, speed. For some others, it is enhanced mental abilities. I do not know why and how, please do not ask, I honestly cannot tell you.”

I had to accept that, so I nodded.

“In most cases, these abilities will lay dormant forever, unless those thus gifted come into contact with something that can activate them. This something has to be what most people would describe as supernatural.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. “My fight with that guy.”

“Indeed. You might have realised by now it was not particularly human. In fact, it was a manifested spiritual entity.”

“You mean he was a ghost?” This was ridiculous.

“That is a rather overloaded and imprecise description, but for your level of understanding, sufficiently accurate. Your being in physical contact with it seems to have activated your dormant abilities. This is what you are experiencing. Depending on the exact nature and extent of those abilities, this can necessitate a longer time of self discovery.”

“Self discovery?”

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint, Mr. Artois, but there is neither the Hogwarts School of Wizardry nor the Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children. You will need to figure the extent of your abilities all by yourself, I am afraid.”

“He, it, whatever, said something to me. It sounded like ‘hosh gay’. Then he turned and ran. Does that tell you anything?”

“Oh dear.” Morris-Walker rose and moved to the window and stared out. He took his time before answering. “First of all, that an entity speaks in a way we understand does not happen often. Second, I believe it said ‘HoSghaj’. That means ‘powerful’. You can consider yourself honoured, young man.”

“How?” Honoured? Yeah, I felt really honoured at being suspended and my life turned upside down by all of this. “What do you mean?”

He returned back to his chair quickly, leaned back and looked at me as if he’d seen me for the first time. “It considered you powerful enough it preferred running over facing you.”

Wow, a ghost was running from me, and I had no idea why. “And what happens now?”

“Well, I have answered your questions, and I would suggest we part ways, Mr Artois.”

“Not all questions. What happened to you that night?”

“You distracted it enough so I was able to escape for which I am grateful. I am paying that debt by talking to you now.”

“Why is he or it interested in you?”

“Good day to you, Constable Artois.”

While I wanted to push for more, I thought better of it and got up. “I thank you for your help, Mr. Morris-Walker. That was very enlightening. Can I call on you again?”

“I would prefer it if you did not," he answered and stood.

He held out his hand, and I shook it, then headed for the door.

“One piece of advice, though," he said.

I turned to face him.

He said earnestly and clearly, “Keep your abilities a closely guarded secret! Nobody must ever know! Not parents! Not siblings! Not children! Not lovers! Nobody! Ever! Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“I cannot impress on you enough the importance of secrecy! For your own good. In this spirit, this conversation has never taken place.”

“What conversation?” I’d seen movies, and this felt like playing a role in one. I muttered under my breath, “I’d end up in a mental institution anyway if I were to tell that story to anybody.”

I left the man’s office and walked back to the car park where my motorbike stood. At least, I had some answers now. Of course, it wasn’t natural for me to outrun Usain Bolt for miles on end, I’d known that. After experimenting with different clocks, I’d come to accept the times were indeed correct. Also, the speedup only worked if I actively concentrated on it.

In addition to being able to increase my speed, when I concentrated not on my restlessness, but on my eyes, I could get the shine of a single street lamp at night to be enough light for me to see the area like in broad daylight. That wasn’t normal either. Like my unnatural hunger after using these abilities extensively. Self discovery, my ass.

I was hungry now. That stunt in Morris-Walker’s office had cost me a lot of energy. I devoured the sandwiches Mike had prepared for me. Forcing myself to chew carefully, I had some time to reflect. The question was simple, did I really have super powers?

I was relieved I wasn’t losing my mind. What I experienced was really happening and not a figment of my imagination. Otherwise, I was rather disappointed by that conversation. I hadn’t known what to expect, but neither did I get an invitation to join a secret club nor did I get anything that would help towards a credible solution with regards to my suspension.

Furthermore, Morris-Walker’s far too short explanation held the potential for upheaval. There was indeed much more between heaven and earth than was generally known. Honestly, I didn’t want to dwell on it too much. Ghosts, my ass.

As much as I disliked it, Morris-Walker was correct. I could never tell anybody any of this, not even Mike. The best resolution was to ignore all of it.

I messaged Mike, explaining I’d spoken to the MP, that all was well and I was on my way back. I had some serious thinking to do and several hours on the motorway between Devon and North London behind a slow, big lorry was an ideal time to do that.

When I arrived at Mike’s place, a marked Met police car stood outside. I parked my bike and checked my messages. There were none. Using my new key, I let myself in and climbed the stairs to the first floor flat. Chief Inspector Mwangi was sitting with Mike at the table in conversation.

Noticing me, Mwangi stood up. His big, broad smile spread over his face. “Jamie, good to see you again.“

“Sir.” I placed my helmet on its now customary place on top of the fridge. “How can I help you?”

“Please forgive my intrusion, Jamie. Your partner Mike was so kind to entertain me while we waited for you.”

I exchanged a glance with Mike. He ever so slightly shrugged his shoulders, indicating he had no idea why the Chief Inspector was here. Mike’s glance told me he was as curious as I was. I took off my heavy jacket.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

Mwangi continued smiling. “Well, you declared your relationship to your response shift inspector, so it’s on the files. At your home address, your flatmate explained you were here. I’d like to have a word in private.”

“Chief Inspector, this is my boyfriend’s flat. We’ll need to go to your car.”

Mike got up. “No worries. All yours. I’m going out for a bit.”

He gave me a quick hug, put on his jacket, and went downstairs. He put on his shoes, and we heard the door close. Mwangi quickly checked the stairs before he turned to me.

I sank gratefully onto Mike’s vacant chair. It still held the heat of his body. The Chief Inspector sat back down.

“Jamie, that you actively seek out a common interest puts me into a difficult situation. You’re endangering a very complex investigation.”

Morris-Walker was investigated? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m trying to find out what happened that evening to clear my name.”

“You’ve been suspended to protect you.”

I had enough. “Nice way to protect me by destroying my life and career!”

The smile was gone. “I see. Your normal workload on shift would prevent you from doing such stunts again, wouldn’t it?”

I really felt like I was in a spy movie. I got it, though. “I want to do the job I love. How will that stain of suspension be compensated? You know my reputation. I’d like to keep it unblemished, because I haven’t done anything wrong!” Gosh, I got ballsy.

“I know, Jamie. I’m sure that Superintendent Brown will agree with me your handling of the incident in question warrants an area commander’s commendation.”

I felt relieved. The horror was at an end. “Well, I suppose the incident is now being handled by the allocated investigating officer.”

Chief Inspector Mwangi was a big man, and he rose slowly to his feet. The smile was back. “Indeed it is, Jamie.” He turned to leave. “You’ll get confirmation soon.”

“Thank you, sir. One question, though.” I hauled myself to my feet also.


“How did you know where I was going?”

“Think about it, Constable.”

“You have my bike on an ANPR request?” I couldn’t believe it.

“I had a feeling, and I was right, wasn’t I? I’ll lift that, but there won’t be any further excursions to Devon. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

I followed Mwangi down the stairs and saw him out.

A short while after he’d left, Mike returned. “You’re beaming! I gather it went well.”

I was happy, relieved, and excited as I lifted him off the ground and spun us around. “Oh yes! I’m no longer suspended, and I’m going to get an area commander’s commendation.”

“Let me guess," he said looking down at me and tussling my hair, ”Time for celebration?”

“You bet!”

Mike laughed. “In bed?”

Refusing to release him, I carried him to the bedroom. “Yes. The table is too unconformable.”

This was the first chapter @CassieQ had real issues with. How does that discovery make him feel? I hope I got it across.
Copyright © 2024 lawfulneutralmage; All Rights Reserved.
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A very special thank you to my editor @Mikiesboy and beta reader @CassieQ. Their support and advice has been invaluable.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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