Two years ago, when Ahana M. Hori, a young lawyer rising through the ranks of the circuit courts was killed by Nero, it was a blip on the radar.

It was discussed for a short while, in the realm of media, for roughly a month, and then forgotten about quickly as something new happened, such as a child winning a spelling bee, a grisly car accident on the hyperway way, or anything that was much more digestible for their audience than the death of a lawyer.

The District Attorney’s Office of Atlaan left the case open.

They didn’t try to look very hard into it.

There was plenty of evidence collected from the day the crime was committed. Witness reports claimed that they heard a gun firing. A singular bullet went through a wall and into the adjacent suite.

The hotel was meticulous with its security since it was upper class, and footage was collected of someone with red hair leaving Ahana Hori’s suite around his time of death, running, exiting the hotel, and leaving with another man as a driver.

The plates were run, which did not match the description of the black car, which gave more questions than answers. DNA evidence was collected, but it didn’t match anything in the database at the time, and no one tried that hard to look into it.

One try was good enough.

Ahana M. Hori defended many cases for the Enemy cartel, constantly stating that one should never be seen as guilty in the court of public opinion. He would get more lenient sentences if it was impossible to break them free or help loyal members leave early on parole.

He would not be missed.

Two years and some change later, when Ace had lived in Atlaan for some time, the case of Ahana M. Hori’s murder suddenly was of concern. When he was arrested for the arson of Tony and the murders of its various guests, they fingerprinted him, took DNA samples, and with the magic of modern technology, processed the information within several hours.

A hit came upon a cold case, and suddenly, the words killer cop flashed over the news that morning, pictures of Ace taken at the worst moments used, online forums and messaging boards of true crime fans pulling out their hair at how they never made the connection.

Ace is the very same man a few years ago who was in a relationship with the child-eating witch! Now he’s trying to set a completely unrelated town on fire, on a different planet, to avenge a woman who killed his father!

It all made no sense.

On the website www.wherearethechildren.ps.com , a messaging board filled with conspiracy theorists and end-of-day prophets decided to meet up in Atlaan, protesting outside the District Attorney’s office for the death penalty for not just the death of Ahana M. Hori, but for the deaths of everyone that died during the October Massacre.

Ahana M. Hori’s words were ignored, and now Ace was judged guilty in the court of public opinion before a trial even occurred.

This was inflated by the statements given by the former Chief of Police Alabaster Almuz and the current Chief of Police Peter Forthright. The crowd outside the District Attorney’s office grew after the destruction of Sky Stadium, creating two different camps.

One group claimed that he was innocent.

Videos of him using his borrowed ability to shield people from the destruction that fell the night before had millions of views within hours. This conflicted with evidence from what happened at Sky Stadium.

Those who survived, which were few and far between, plus the live stream of the concert, proved that someone could not be at two places at once. Ace could not destroy Sky Stadium while protecting others from the destruction of Sky Stadium.

It became the problem of Schrodinger’s Acheus.

Was he there or not there?

The heat was on, as people wanted retribution for the destruction of several blocks, the deaths of their family and friends, and ruined vacations. There were no refunds from the concerts that were canceled at a venue that no longer existed, exploding over the ocean.

That morning, on the third day of The Week of Night, Peter Forthright awoke in his office. He accepted that he would not sleep often that week, and decided to not do so unless he had no choice.

He slept on the brown couch in his office, with a pillow brought from home, and a fan put on high, sweating the entire night, and awoke feeling worse than when he fell asleep. He was stressed, but it was a good sort of stress, as he opened one of the file cabinets he filled with items he needed when he slept over at work.

He shaved in the third-floor bathroom, brushed his teeth, created his professional, signature hairstyle, gelled his black hair, and put on a new uniform, contemplating what to do about his little issue.

Forthright refused to admit that Acheus was not a criminal, he knew one when he saw one, and even if he wasn’t a criminal, he was morally lacking. It made sense how he had afforded such a nice watch, his benefactor had given it to him, and Forthright was disgusted.

Not by their sexuality nor the idea of the affair itself.

By the betrayal.

He returned to his office, disgusted that the grandson of a man that had liberated people from tyranny was romantically involved with an Ionadian.

Shameless.

It all made sense why Forthright sensed nothing but evil inside of him.

Ace’s haircut made his curved ears visible, and Forthright was disgusted that he was in the same room as such a vile, racist, colonizer. Leviathan was nothing but a traitor to Earthians everywhere, but that was no surprise either.

All the Slaters were nothing but a group of grotesquely tall, pale, angry ghosts and corporate demons, all of them turning their backs on the legacy of those who had won the war against the Ionadians and the Empire.

He knew he had to do his job as an officer to protect a woman from pure evil, and made a call.

Forthright shuffled around his papers on the desk and found the number he was looking for. It was written down from when they investigated Ace’s phone and he called the number.

The woman on the other end picked up immediately.

It was a long, quiet conversation, and Forthright knew it was his moral duty to tell her. She should know so she could run as far from possible from a race traitor. The woman on the other line hung up the phone when he used these words, and Forthright assumed that she was stricken with grief instead of disgust at his blatant racism.

Mary Jane was on the other end of the line, drying her hair, sitting on the large bed in her hotel room. She leaned on the wooden backboard, set the phone down on the side table, and told herself that this man was nuts.

She had received a phone call from someone she did not know after she had just awoken, gotten dressed, and was informed that her husband was a "traitor to our kind." Forthright told her that Levi was a credible alibi because he had been with Acheus all night, they must have been fornicating.

Mary Jane knew that she should not trust a man who used phrases like miscegenation. With her towel wrapped around her head, she walked out of the bedroom, and into the small living room conjoined with a small kitchen. It was a last-minute room bought until they could find a new apartment, most of the hotels in town booked for the Week of Night.

She was grumpy, she wanted something much nicer.

Levi was on the phone, talking to Mike while watching the news, headlines flashing about the Fire-Fighter, which was a terrible name to call Ace because he was not a firefighter nor could use fire, but the media was using anything to get views.

“I know, I’m sorry, just let me come over to apologize,” Levi groaned.

Muffled voices could be heard on the other side of the line, and then the call ended. Levi was still embarrassed, his burst of anger frightening a woman who was only trying to help.

Mary Jane came over, sat next to him on the couch, and held his hand, and he immediately relaxed, his best friend was by his side.

“Levi, why does our house look like Jumanji ,” Mary Jane asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll go back tonight to check it out, okay?”

She patted his hand and she nodded and didn’t know how to ask the next questions without sounding controlling.

“Where were you? I was worried, especially since I thought Rikka died,” she said.

“It’s a miracle she survived,” he replied. “She’s amazing.”

The topic then changed to the horrible explosion, and the footage on television aired again. Mary Jane noticed that he was getting better at lying. Instead of outright lying, he would half answer a question and somehow change the topic.

“Wait. Where were you last night, ” Mary Jane asked.

“I was at Uncle Mike’s,” he said. It was not a lie nor was it the truth, and Mary Jane nodded and knew she was being silly. He had returned from Mike’s loft! Where else would he have been last night?

She leaned on him, and he held her close as they watched the TV, and Mary Jane was sure that Ace was innocent. She was supportive of his innocence, as viewers submitted videos played on the screen, showing Ace getting people to huddle under his shield.

Her support was gone when she saw Levi on the television as well next to him.

Levi smiled, the biggest smile he ever made in his life, blinked rapidly and said nothing because he lied but did not have a backup plan of what to do when caught lying except to continue doing it. Now it was impossible.

“When did you get to Mike’s place,” Mary Jane asked.

“Two AM,” Levi lied.

“Okay. I’ll text him-”

“Why are you being like this?”

His voice was not raised, but stern, a teacher scolding a student, and she scoffed, as he accused her of what she knew he would say. She was being “ controlling, manipulative, and had something to hide.”

“No wonder you’re always away at work. You don’t need to work that much! We have money, ” Levi huffed. He moved away from her on the couch and she let him keep talking because she knew the more he spoke the deeper he would dig his own grave.

“I bet you’re unfaithful, ” Levi hissed. “You’re gone for so long, so frequently. ”

“As are you, when you leave for work,” Mary Jane replied bitterly.

“I think you should be home more often. Then we wouldn’t have so many issues.”

Mary Jane scoffed, multiple times, at the ludicrous accusations, being told that she was doing everything that she suspected him of doing.

“You know Levi, for the longest time I put up with your weird lies because I thought you needed something to make yourself look tough.”

“I am not weak,” he shouted.

He got up from the chair, the gorilla was enraged, and when he saw the pitying look on her face, the moment the words came out of his mouth Mary Jane had proven her point, and he became a little quieter.

“I don’t know what you’re hiding but I wish you trusted me enough to tell me,” she said. “I love you but I feel like your roommate.”

“Because you work too much.”

She shook her head, put her hand in a stop motion, and got up to leave, but he wasn’t done with the conversation, adamant that she was the one that needed to change, not him.

He blocked her from leaving and she was cross, glaring up at him as he insisted that nothing was wrong. He continued with many excuses about things she never asked about, and she interrupted him, tired of listening to his diatribe.

“I think I’m going to stay at Julia’s place for a while,” Mary Jane said.

“Okay,” Levi mumbled.

Mary Jane was more hurt that he didn’t try to stop her while she packed up and left.