Crime - Chapter 1: Intruders

This is something I put together in the space of half an hour or so. Motivated, of course, out of the viewing of Taken 2, which I have to say is amazing. For a sequel.
Well, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting, anyway. There was fighting. Shooting and explosions. I was hoping they'd kill a certain character off but oh well.

Might do a full post of Taken 2 soon anyway, but whatever. Here is the chapter.
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1.

INTRUDERS

Zathract left the Sanctuary late that night. He had sat in his office for three hours over his usual leave time, doing nothing but paperwork and reports. More and more reports… For there had been an exceedingly large amount of murders in the past two weeks. The Detectives of the Sanctuary had been stretched far and wide with murder cases and ever climbing crime rates in the magical community. A certain number of Cleavers were also assigned to each detective due to the potential threat of their own murder.

Zathract had been overloaded with work lately, so it was good was used to getting no sleep for days on end. Tonight, however, he had finished off a good deal of the reports he had to write out for the Sanctuary Records and decided to take the rest of the night off. He hadn’t slept in five days, so he figured it was about time to sleep for a while anyway.

He parked his motorbike in the car park of the apartment he owned a room in and climbed off, wondering how many new cases would be waiting for him in the morning… Zathract walked over to the elevator and pressed the button to the 15^th floor. There were thirty floors in the apartment block, so Zathract was fairly content with where he was. He checked his phone. Half past four in the morning.

Three hours sleep. Not exactly the worst he’d ever had, he reasoned.

Zathract stepped out of the elevator and made his way to his room, not bothering to get a key. He didn’t have a key to his room. Zathract made sure that only he could open the door to his apartment. His gloved closed around the handle and shadows wrapped around it for a moment. Then something in the handle picked it up, and the handle turned and the door swung open.

The instant he stepped inside he knew something was wrong. He had no alarms set up in his apartment, but he still sensed the presence of other people there.

The room was warmer than it was in a natural state. People breathing.

The place felt unnaturally prepared. An anticipated moment, waiting to occur.

A sudden calm, forced. The need to be quiet.

Zathract didn’t stop, despite the trap waiting to be sprung. He nodded ever so slightly, closed the door, and stepped further inside, flicking the lights on as he did so. The only difference in routine was that he left his protective jacket on. He strode over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, wondering if he actually would get some sleep now that these people were in his apartment…

He took a drink, then set the glass aside, and walked into the room that accommodated a small couch, even though he lived alone. They were spread throughout the rest of the apartment as well, he knew, but there were a fair few in this room.

“I’m right here,” Zathract said, stepping into the middle of the room and extending his arms slightly. “What are you waiting for?” Nothing happened for a moment. Then a tall man wearing sunglasses and a black suit stepped into view from behind a pillar.

“Zathract Mist,” he said quietly, and a mixture of Cleavers and other men in suits stepped out of hiding places.

“Who are you?” Zathract asked, “What do you want?”

“You are under arrest,” he said.

“You’re a Sanctuary Official?”

The man inclined his head slightly, and Zathract stepped back a fraction, frowning.

“Under what charges?” he asked.

“The unprovoked murder of two innocent mages,” said the man. “Come quietly now or we will have to use force.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Zathract glared. “I’ve been from one corner of Australia to another in the past two weeks, probably covering similar cases to you. I wouldn’t have had time to kill anyone even if I’d wanted to. You’re incorrect, detective.”

“I’m afraid not, Zathract,” said the man. “I have here a warrant for your arrest, signed by the Grand Mage himself. I also have a document that ends your career as a detective, also signed by the Grand Mage. You are currently seen as a national threat. This will be the last time I say it. Come quietly or we will use force.”

Zathract studied the people in the room. There was the man. There were about a dozen or so Cleavers and about half as many other people, some holding weapons, others flame.

Too many too take down on his own…

Zathract had his magic; his elemental abilities and Necromancer techniques. He had one pistol on him and two knives. Not nearly enough.

But it’d have to do.

“Who were the people murdered?” Zathract asked. He’d at least like to know who he was supposed to have killed if he was going to become a national-wide criminal.

“Come quietly,” the man said. “Now.”

“Who have been killed?” he repeated. Zathract wasn’t going anywhere yet.

“Two mages,” the man muttered, annoyed now.

“Who?” Zathract stared daggers at him.

“Nixion Strange and Sparky Braginski,” the man glared.

One second Zathract’s head had gone numb, stomach had dropped and the world was falling away from him in an explosion of confusion.

The next he had leapt out the window of his apartment and was falling through the air, floor by floor, putting space between him and the people intending to arrest him.

Zathract Mist was on the run.