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Post Reply ❚❙❙ {Project 02} Crossing Past
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Posted 5/14/14 , edited 6/24/16


A Tokyo x Yuki Production

presents

A sequel to " The Devil and The Princess"

A twisted past led to a catastrophe ending. When the fate brought them together in the past, the same fate separated them. Thousands of years later, they met again. A tale that crosses between time and space, what is the "fate" that awaits on them? Will their destiny finally unite them or will the wrongful past stands in their way once more?

CP Character Guidelines

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"We gather here today, friends and family of Sir Decus Auxcel, to commemorate the journey of our beloved Decus to our Father's side..."

It was deeply amusing. Every funeral in any dramatic event would have pouring rain beating on the grieving attendees under black umbrellas. Someone would scream and faint while others would be lost in receiving condolences. Then, the priest would say his prayers followed by dozens after dozens of speeches by the deceased's family and friends, remarking the deceased's life highlights and praying for peace.

As a conspicuous sleek silver Audi Sportback turned quietly into a hardly visible empty parking lot, the driver noted the foggy weather. Many black umbrellas obscured the faint light from above on the grounds and the crowds were as silent as the graves. He drove cautiously without doubt despite running late for his closest relative's death. A few sharp-eyed businessmen threw less-than-welcoming glances in the direction of the flashy entrance in contrast to the curious looks from younger ladies, clearly bored by the sermons. An appropriately dressed black suit man in his late twenties exited the car silently and the attention on him grew stronger. His tough biceps made the sleeves of his overcoat a little too tight and his barrel-chested figure would have made any woman swoon if the event had not been so grim. He strode over to the large gathering (with his lean, muscular calves no less), ignoring everyone as his mind was set on getting to his appointed seat. There was an empty seat in the fourth row from the priest, reserved with a black purse. The well-built man squeezed past his disapproving attendees to settle beside a willowy woman. She was in her mid forties but she never looked a day past thirty.

"You are late. This is your grandfather's funeral, for heaven's sake."

A low, indiscreet rumbling of throat from the chided man indicated his reluctance to pursue the subject further. The willowy woman let out a soft 'hmph' and returned her attention to her beloved family member in his stone sarcophagus. Her son's uncommitted acts were not new to her. The priest went on monotonously about the old man's life accomplishments and read some letters from grieving friends. The man observed his surroundings, a work habit he incorporated into his daily lives. He noticed many of his grandfather's business partners were present. He also noticed that only both of them were positioned the furthest from the coffin. Despite his height, he could hardly catch a glimpse of the old man's wrinkled face. Still, it came to no surprise he would find himself situated away from the main family household. His eyes swerved shyly at his mother who stood proudly in her family position. The years she was spat at and excluded from important family functions did not show on her stoic yet luminous face. She took them head on in contrast with her son's more violent reaction. He always remembered her trying to calm him down with her favourite phrase, "only the weak resorts to anger".

He tapped his foot impatiently when no more thoughts could steal his attention from the funeral droning.

"Min Hui, come and pay respects to your grandfather," his mother prodded his beefy arms.

He blinked and followed her obediently. The funeral was coming to a close and everyone was talking to anyone of the esteemed family. As usual, he and his mother were not considered part of it. He noticed the eldest brother puffing his chest and speaking importantly to a group of admirers and future partners. That scene was reminded when he drove his Audi away with a new passenger - his gracious and gentle mother.

"You should not have given up your inheritance. It was rightfully yours!" the willowy woman broke the silence in the car after it left the cemetery.

Min Hui sighed. "Mother dearest, we have been through this before. Shusuke will be the next Head of Auxcel Corps. while I will be the shareholder and hero of justice."

"Min Hui! I am not in a mood to joke with you. Grandfather loved you above all his sons. You even have the capability to lead Auxcel Corps into a new era! Why do you settle for such a meagre salary with long working hours?"

The driver was clearly exasperated. It was not the first time they had argued about this. He pulled the car over to the side of the road abruptly and killed the engine.

"What is this?" his mother cast a stern eye in his direction.

Min Hui refused to look at his mother.

"Go ahead. Rant it all out. I have taken the day off. Let's listen to it right now before I lose my concentration in driving and put all of us in danger," he spoke in an exasperated voice.

Narrowing her eyes, the willowy mother decided against it.

"You liar, you will be back to work before sundown."

"Then, I am assured you understand why I am not giving up my current job."

He restarted the engine and swerved back into the heavy traffic easily. The journey continued in silence until his bid farewell to his mother at her private apartment in the city of the Eastern Nation.

"You are back later than I thought," a teasing voice floated into Min Hui's mind.

He looked up wearily to see his colleague standing over him with a mug of hot cocoa.

"Punk. What are you doing here so late? Have you not got into your head that this is Team 127?" Min Hui rubbed his temple as he got up from his uncomfortable slump on the desk.

The wall clock hour hand quivered to the right. It was nine at night and his only companion in the office was a tu-tone, fair-skinned supervisor with a Cheshire grin.

"I did. Have you forgotten that though?" the bright blue head nodded before tapping his subordinate's forehead with the mug. "I do not feel safe leaving you here alone."

The supervisor made a gesture to hug Min Hui's head but got flicked in the cheek by a disgruntled Min Hui.

Standing back, Punk the Supervisor announced clearly, "It's a quiet night. Go home, grim-faced Reaper."

Reaper stood up to stretch before pushing more files under his To-Do stack which was already as tall as five mugs of hot cocoa. He grabbed his silent micro-tablet and read the message before strapping it to his left epaulette. Just as Reaper was about to remove his patrol badge, the LED screen of his micro-tablet blinked. At the same time, Punk's phone rang. Punk sighed as Reaper prepared himself enthusiastically for deployment.

"I keep telling you...burn that patrol uniform! You are a senior inspector! Stop wearing that dreadful navy blue uniform! It's bad luck. You even have the clearance for pyjamas," Punk shouted as he hurried around his messy desk for an essential kit.

Reaper ignored his supervisor and listened to the brief summary of their new case of his wireless headset. "It's downtown. Some hooker disguised as an entertainer got caught by security. I will drive."

Punk saw him out of the door and looked on wearily at the back of the police vest. When will his colleague ever change?
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The door opened and she took a step into the hall, walking down the red carpet. She had a smile hanging on her face, there was an overwhelming excitement in her as she walked down the aisle. Holding a bouquet of daisies in her hand, her other hand was held onto another man's. She tried squinting her eyes to look at him, but the light from outside was too bright for the comfort of her eyes. Who was this man?

The man guided her to another person standing in the middle of the hall. Her excitement rose high. Today was her wedding day! She was to marry the man she loves the most. She could feel herself blushing, and was hoping it wouldn't be obvious to that man - the man she loves hates her. Wait? What? Hates her? She raised an eyebrow, why would a man who proposed to marry her hates her?

She turned right to face her husband but the groom was nowhere to be found. Her eyes searched wild for her groom.

"Where's the groom?" she finally spoke, a little surprised at her voice.

"Why..." a man spoke from the crowd. "He is dead. He died in your arms...."

Shocked, she dropped the daisies as she looked down at her blood-stained white gown. Horror filled in and the last thing she could remembered was a trail of screams escaping from her mouth.


*****


The airport was as always a busy place with a numbered of humans taking off flights and a numbered of people flying in. Even at night, this place never seems to die. Passengers boarding the next flight were advised to check in at Gate 7. Fifteen minutes left for checking in. There was an announcement asking all the passengers to that flight to check in at Gate 22 with their boarding passes. Then there was this mad rush across the lounge where the young and strong made it easily jumping over the furniture, mothers with children became reckless, lost a child or some hand baggage, the old and the infirm almost lost all hope of boarding the flight in time. When they all checked in finally there was the next announcement saying the flight is delayed by 30 minutes for 'technical reasons'.

In the hustle and bustle of the airport, a certain young lady strolled her way to the exit with her luggage bag tolling behind her. The noisy crowd didn't seem to be a bother to her - she had muted all unnecessary voices out from her world. With both her earphones tucked in her ears and a sunglasses on, she looked like a fashionable model making a grand arrival. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the airport, her eyes passing the luminous signs with their nicotine coloured writing and a wide screen TV that was on silent but had News 24/7 on. With a wide grin, she made her way to the exit of the airport.

The cool wind of September wind brushed her cheeks passionately, as if welcoming her home. Indeed, this was her birthplace and the place she'd been living for the first 8 years of her life but she couldn't recall her last time here. It was all so blurry and estrange to her - taking into account that it had been nearly 16 years long since the day she bid farewell to the city she shared memories with her parents. How she'd missed this place. Ever since her parents died in an accident, she had never gotten the chance to return to this city. Her grandfather and brother caged her in for what it seemed to be a millennium. But now, she was given the green light. She was finally given the green light.

"Miss Renesmee, you have arrived at your hotel," a voice broke into her thought. "I will carry your luggage into your room and this is your room key."

Renee looked up - annoyed at her driver. She remembered telling her brother that she does not need any special royal treatment from their family upon her arrival there - but her brother managed to talk her into extra security.

"It's just for the arrival, I need to assure you arrives safely and settles comfortably there," he said. "After that, you're just Renee the normal girl - the musician, not Renesmee of the Royscott Corporation....alright?"

The hotel - the Royscott Hotel stood in the heart of the city. Renee sneaked out of the car as her driver carries her luggage into the hotel. She sighed as she took a step into the city of transient population. Pulling down her wool beret, she playfully strolled down the colourful street of the metropolis.

The crowds bustled in the city as if this was the only place they could get some entertainment. Renee looked around in amazed. This city was definitely a city of nightlife. It was half an hour to 10 yet everyone are still up and active like the morning bees. The noise of cars and taxis hooting, or of scooters, flying past was deafening. Anyone who stops by to watch the scene would be amazed at the number of vehicles zooming past or crawling along when caught at the traffic lights.

Renee continued to walk down the street as she photographed the scenes with her DSLR while listening to the rhythm of life - this place was inspiring her, and she allowed herself to get buried in the song of the city in the night. Her excitement lead the way into a seemingly colourful street of neon lights and signboards.There were pubs everywhere, and karaoke all around the certain street she was walking down. Realising that she had picked the wrong street to explore, she spun around on her heels to head back into the main street. Just then, a strong grip grabbed her upper arm. Horrified, she turned around to find herself held by a heavily intoxicated man. He made a few hiccups and stared at her with lustful eyes.

"Your price?" he asked. Renee raised an eyebrow as she tried struggling herself free from his grip. "For you, I wouldn't mind paying a higher price than normal."

His eyes scanned the outline of her body as she was wearing a sweater with shorts and high-boots. She caught a glimpse of a few ladies standing nearby who threw discreet stares at her. That man had mistaken her as a prostitute! She reasoned that explaining would not do any good since it was irrelevant whether she was prostitute or not to a drunken man - for all he want was an enjoyable night. She can't get into trouble, not on the first night here - she wouldn't want to leave the city the day she just arrives.

And she stepped onto his feet with the sharp point of her boots. The moment he yowled in pain and released her, she dashed off. She could run pretty fast despite wearing a 5-inch heels. A smile formed on her face as she ran - she had never felt this excited before. To be in a city so strange to her yet so welcoming with a hint of dejavu, it was a whole new experience both good and bad. But horror soon caught up and she dropped the cute smile, a group of men was chasing after her.

Uh oh. She had stepped onto the feet, of all people, a mafia boss'.




Renee began running wildly through the crowded streets, hoping to lose them. Unfortunately, they were like hounds on the scent of fresh meat. The people paid no heed to her circumstance and simply cursed at her for a few bumps. She did not know where to go anymore as the streets were no longer recognisable in the moment of panic. Seeing a long pedestrian crossing with a blinking green man walking, she raced in its directions, praying she would overcome the long bridge to safety on the safer side of the road. The shouts of her chasers mattered no more.
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When his driver yawned for the umpteenth time, the blue-haired youth could take it no longer. He insisted they pull over at a coffee stand for a quick purchase, much to his driver's loud rejections. When they finally stopped, the passenger got out to drag his driver out of the car.

"Get into the back, Grim," Punk spoke in a levelled tone.

"I'm fine," Reaper replied sharply, shaking off Punk's grip.

Punk's lips thinned as he spoke more authoritatively, "It's an order, Reaper."

The last word rang clearly of reluctance. Punk had always disliked his companion's codename and used it only teasingly. However, Punk's unsmiling eyes had a indiscernible message. Reaper gritted his teeth and stepped out of the driver's seat before being escorted to the back seat of his own Audi. Punk closed the car door and ignited the car engine. He looked into the rear mirror and caught his disgruntled companion's eyes.

"Take a nap, Señor. We will be there shortly. You know my remarkable driving skills."

"Just don't scratch my car. I just put on a new coat of paint," Reaper warned with narrowed eyes before curling up horizontally in the back seat.

His consciousness immediately drifted off to the unknown. The sleepless nights had taken a toll on him. And Punk was very much aware of his recent insomnia. Looks like the funeral affected him more than he would admit... Punk's eyes softened at the sight of Reaper's sleeping face. He pledged to drive smoothly so as to not awaken the sleeping beast. His driving skills was not to be taken lightly - he swiftly swerved and sped through the city dowsed in neon lights without much of a bump. The straight road of the main district was his favourite racing track and he indulged himself in a little more speed. He could count the minutes to cheating the traffic but that night was different.

A figure had jumped into the path of his race just as the traffic light was rightfully green.

The silver Audi skidded to a halt as Punk slammed on the breaks. Breaking more than just a sweat, Punk cursed under his breath before leaping out of the car - he had seen something silver fall over just before the car came to a complete stop.

"Hey! Are you all right?" Punk shouted in slight hysterics as he bent over the suicidal person-in-question.

Noticing the long hair and soft facial features, he immediately knelt to pick her up. The girl looked physically unharmed although her facial expression was clearly of someone in a lost state. He noted she was around his age, and a better-looking counterpart. There was something at the back of his mind about this encounter but with the irate drivers and car horns ringing, he thought better of it - he should get them out of here.

Meanwhile, the third party had been rudely awakened when the inertia of the car caused him to roll over onto the dusty car mats. He felt his world spinning with the hard knock on the back of his head.

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Renee looked up in a daze - her dewy eyes stared into her capture's eyes, captivating his attention to her deep aura. Her heart was pounding fast and everything seemed distorted to her. She hadn't notice that she was nearly a victim of road traffic. Her eyes shifted swiftly to the silhouette of another man who stepped out of the car. She squinted her eyes to look at the new figure, but the headlights of the Audi was too bright for her eyes' comfort.

"Are you all right? Can you hear me, miss?" the young man who held her asked again - a little worried this time. Her attention shifted back to the bright-haired man. He looked friendly - she could tell.

"I'm fine..." she replied slowly as she pieced everything together. "Sorry bout this. But-but I have to go now..."

She rose to her knees - into a crawling position when she turned her head back to look at the direction she came from. Her chasers were slowly catching up to her - she must not wait another minute here. She needed to get to the nearest police station, but she wasn't at all familiar with this place. She wasn't even sure herself the way back to her family's hotel. She needed to run off now, but her body wasn't moving.







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Punk shrugged. She was beautiful but not his type. He stood up without helping her and noticed a groggy officer stepping out of his car.

"What were you thinking?" his tone suddenly chilly. "Stepping out onto the road without thinking about your safety. Lady, if you want to die, I recommend the seaside bay. Don't pull other people into your own trouble."

He looked down disapprovingly at the reckless girl. Before she could reply, a group of burly men halted at the scene. Punk's attention shifted and an old grin returned.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? You people look familiar. Are you...wait...let me think...We have met, haven't we? You are from some small timer gang, ain't cha? What was the title again?" Punk snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name.

Although Punk could not put the name to the face, the burly men showed signs of recognition. The sight of the two unexpected adversaries had them backing away from the scene. Punk's grin widened and bid them farewell sarcastically. He noticed that his partner was feeling better and observing him. He nudged slightly in the direction of a small crowd gathering around them.

"Lady, you have some explaining to do but we are on a tight schedule. Get up," he demanded quietly and heaved the strange girl to her feet.

Dragging her to the silver Audi (much to his partner's surprise), Punk pulled open the back seat door and pressed her to go in.

"Sit quietly and buckle up," he ordered as the two grown men sat in the front. "We are running late because of your little misadventure."

The silent partner observed the new occupant in his car for a moment and directed his attention to a flat screen in place of the usual car radio position. He swiped a hand over the black screen which then brightened to the motion. A few quick taps and the Audi's custom police siren was switched on to clear the roads.

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The driver slammed on the accelerator and the car sped off in a terrifying speed. Renee was lurched backwards at the sudden acceleration of the car. She had a hard time behind buckling up the seat belt as the car swerved its way unexpectedly. She had taken rides in numbers of luxurious cars but this was her first experience with a fast driver. Her heart was pounding harder by the seconds as they veered off the road at the high speed.

When she finally settled herself, she stared at the two men in front. With the sirens clearing the path in front for them, she realised her saviours were actually the local authorities. However, her temper and nervousness was getting a better of her. Not only that she didn't know her way around here, she didn't know the two men and to make things worst, she had no idea where they were bringing her to. She could only pray that she had stumbled upon good cops and not those that take things for granted.

"Mister!" she said in a calm tone despite the fear she felt. She tried not to distract them as they had to keep their eyes on the road. "Thank you for saving me earlier - I was trying to escape from the men..... And no I didn't do anything bad - I don't take drug nor do I sell my body. I was protecting myself from his assault and....stepped on his foot...."

"I know I was wrong to jump out of nowhere into the traffic. You can sue me or fine me, but you can't kidnap me! Kidnapping is a serious crime - you may be sentenced to mandatory life imprisonment! Even if you're the local authority!" she added.

The car urged its way ferociously through the city road into a narrow road. Renee looked out of the window. They moved too fast, so fast that it looked like a video game.

When the two men were not responding to her, she took out her iphone and her sleek fingers danced across the screen as she typed a message - asking for help. The car came to a sudden stop, and she lurched forward - hitting her forehead against the headrest of the passenger's seat. Her phone slipped off her hands in the process and went under the passenger's seat. She looked up and out of the window, rubbing her sore forehead before diverting her sight back at the two men.

She pulled her wool beret to cover her forehead. These men are seriously rude. She disliked them at first encounter.
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A traffic police frantically rush over to the incoming Audi, his arms waving like a flag. He rapped the window anxiously and the driver had it rolled down.

"Turn off the siren and drive around the back!" the frantic officer spoke in a hushed voice.

The stern driver nodded and his bright colored hair colleague swiped a hand over the screen. The silver Audi smoothly conquered a corner of the building and entered a dazzling underground carpark. A gold-plated sign behind the valet machine proclaimed the car park a property of Lance Hotel - a partner of Royscott Company.

"Some big-headed wigs want some face despite housing a drugged celebrity," Punk spat vehemently.

The driver did not respond but simply parked the Audi near a pack of white and blue vehicles. Punk looked at the rear mirror as his driver killed the engine.

"Little birdie, do know your country's laws before you throw out empty threats," he smirked slightly and his partner pinned a badge to his bulletproof vest. "I will get a real police officer to attend to your tiny needs soon."

The shiny badge reflected clearly in the rear mirror but was gone in a moment as the two men stepped out of the car importantly. Punk ensured the doors of the car was locked and signalled to a nearby officer (who was casting a strange look at the driver wearing a standard police uniform. The driver threw the car keys to Punk, who in turn passed it to the police officer.

"Get a statement from that girl. Don't scratch the car. Oh, and she got into an accident."

The police officer brought his feet together and in an uptight position, his palms were flat across his right chest - the standard law enforcement salutations. Punk nodded and followed his silent partner to cross the police barrier.

"You disapprove of her?" Punk inquired, noting his unusually silent behaviour earlier.

"I don't take in strays," stern Reaper replied as he held the lift door open for a few crime scene investigators rushing towards them.

An older investigator spotted the odd pair and sneered. The packed lift rose slowly through the floors of the carpeted hotel. The older investigator cleared his throat significantly.

"I guess strange cases draws in weird onlookers."

Punk's eyes narrowed but he kept his tone light-hearted. "Do enlighten us, Sir Inspector."

The older man turned back and they exchanged glares. "Punk. That name really suits you. I will say this clearly through your thick skull. This case is ours. Stay out."

"Ours? Don't worry. I am aware we are on the same team," Punk remarked with a forced smile.

The opening of the lift door spared the rest of the investigators the awkward atmosphere. Reaper nudged Punk hard in the right arm before exiting. Punk rubbed it and pined after his angry partner. They were soon greeted by a nauseating stench in a sealed off suite. The crime scene investigators had prepared disposable respirators but still shyed from the crime scene.

"Alcohol and drugs. A favourite high society cocktail party," Reaper commented disapprovingly.

They donned PVC shoe covers over their footwear and stepped over the threshold. The Narcotics Inspectors turned down the respirators expertly. This odour was not new to drug handlers. A young detective with tousled hair hurried over to greet the newcomers.

"Cain Hussle. Actor by profession. Held a striptease party on his last night in town. Eyewitness said he was handing out some new drugs called Holes and apparently overdosed himself. He was still conscious when I found him so I called for an ambulance. The guests are all detained in the conference room downstairs," the detective read off his notepad hurriedly. He lowered his voice suddenly. "The hotel management is pressing for a quick release of the scene. They want to clear this mess by morning."

Punk looked around exasperatedly at the paper cups and broken glass strewn across the rooms. He thought he spotted lingerie of different sizes and patterns hanging off every possible wood piece. He did not think he would want to have a look at the kitchen and the bathroom. His train of thoughts was broken by a bag of drugs shoved in his face.

"Here's your stash. Now, get out of my crime scene," the old investigator hollered rudely.

Punk snatched the bag and noticed that every officer in the room was watching them. The strife between Team 127 and Team CSI were infamous within the bureau.

"Stand down, Investigator. You have no authorisation to give orders to anyone in the Narcotics Bureau."

Punk stared in surprise as Reaper took over the offense. His towering figure and well-built muscles stood in stark contrast to the pot-belly investigator. Clearly outdone, the investigator bellowed for his team members to follow him (even though everyone was in close proximity).

In an undertone, the following words were distinctively heard.

"Damn you, Reaper. A killer like you should be locked up instead of some Cain whatever."
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Renee eyed their movements and gesture as they talked to the police officer. Arms crossed before her chest, she looked discreetly at them until they vanished from her sight. She was piqued with the incident. It wasn't her fault to get into a mess, and it was definitely not her fault to not know the law of this nation. She was losing her patience - she was good with keeping up her emotions, but when it comes to dealing with rude people - no matter how superior or good looking they are, she tend to lose her patience fast.

The police officer marched forward to her direction and led her to the Lance Hotel lounge. Taking a seat, she was given a set of forms to fill. She was exasperated beyond words as she frankly took the pen and filled the forms up. While she was at it, the police officer took out a small notebook and a pen - prepared to question her. He scribbled over the page, trying to bring the dried out pen alive to no avail. Seeing his actions in trying to please his supervisor, she handed him the pen in her grip.

"What happened?" he asked - looking as professional as though nothing wrong happened. Renee's eyes flickered to the hoteliers and staff that were rushing about. They looked panic - but the high standard of service maintained without fail.

Renee looked back at the officer as he made an indiscreet sound. She was dreaming off again. She looked down, recalling every pieces of the incident that took place at the colorful street, the sexual assault and the misadventure into breaking the traffic flow. When the officer was done questioning her and collected the forms from her - he gasped at the name written on the documents. He looked up at the girl with half her face covered by the light brown wool beret. Everyone would recognised the name, it was the name of the family with supreme power over the economics in this state, although it being a foreign company - its supremacy was comparable with that of the biggest local corporation, Auxcel Corp.

Renee looked up when an important figure approached her, as if trying to get a good look at her.

"Oh my, I could tell it was you from afar! Who else could pull off that natural silver hair so ever beautifully if not but you?" the man spoke with interest. "Renesmee of the Royscott Corp."

She was taken aback. Even though she was in his territory, she had least expected for him to be here of all places. The sole heir of the Lance Hotel, Richard. Renee took off her beret in respect for the man standing before her.

"Please. Keep my identity low," she pleaded softly as he leaned in to hug her. Releasing her, he looked back with a smirk. "I'm just Renee."

"Right," he turned over to face the local authority. "Now if you may excuse my important guest here..."

Before the officer could reply, Richard placed his hand firmly over Renee's shoulder and dragged her away. "Did you get yourself into some kind of trouble? I just received a call from your brother yesterday to make sure your needs will be attended to. Gosh, you just got off the flight didn't you? How did you-"

"Stop it! Don't ask a thing about what happened earlier. It's so absurd. And you don't have to babysit me, for God's sake. He shouldn't have ask you of all people, had he forgotten that you're a newly wed? The only request I have of you is to bring me back to my hotel," Renee stared at him importantly. A few staffs' quick scamper to the elevator caught her attention. "What exactly happened here?"

Richard rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes I'll be at your service right away, princess. You remember Cain Hussle? The man who made a big fuss with your grandfather during the Royscott's diamond jubilee celebration? He died - overdosed or so."

Renee nodded at the news. She didn't find it surprising at all that the man died. She remembered his indecent attempts in trying to touch her back then. Pushing the disturbing thoughts, along with the encounter with the two rude men aside - she tapped Richard's shoulder with a smile.

"Bring me back," she requested. She needed to wake up early tomorrow and look for a room to rent - the thoughts of it made her excited. Richard nodded at the girl and brought her down to the underground parking basement belonged to Lance Hotel.

Settling herself in the passenger seat of Richard's BMW, the last scene she registered before the car swerved off was that of the two men standing by the conspicious silver Audi.




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Team 127's leader, Punk, watched the crime investigators bustle around in a disorganized manner. He shook his head at the thought of how much press coverage the CSI team often gained in major cases. If only the public knew. Fortunately, the Narcotics Bureau teams hardly worked together with Team CSI unless drugs were involved. However, the public seemed to like putting us under the umbrella of Police Workforce.

Punk was suddenly reminded of the girl in the earlier incident and smirked. On the cue, the girl's assigned caretaker/police officer called out discreetly to him. He looked over his shoulders and found his caller. After affirming Reaper's position (which was in the kitchen browsing through the rubbish), Punk strolled out of the crime scene.

"Well?"

"You won't believe it, Sir. That girl is the famous granddaughter of Royscott," the excitement in the officer's voice was barely suppressed. "It's Lady Renesmee Royscott! The Royscott's pride! Lady Renesmee is-"

Punk interrupted the idle chatter with a pair of blazing eyes. The officer fell silent and handed Punk the clipboard and car key. He saluted and quickly stalked off to share with his fellow officers his excitement over meeting an actual Lady. Punk never did like the High Society but he make an exception for his favorite partner. As Punk scanned the documents, Reaper emerged with another bag of white, crystalline drugs, similar in appearance to the first bag Punk was handed.

"That was all I could find," Reaper commented, eyeing the documents.

Punk quickly put the documents out of sight and nodded his approval at Reaper's quick work at the scene. Both agreed not to stay in Team CSI's sight for too long. They equally hated unnecessary, attention-drawing troubles. Reaper read Punk's mind and decided not to inquire Punk's secretive action. He requested the detective for an audience with the hooker.

"He was brought to the stations immediately. You can find him on your level's torture room," the detective joked.

However, he was disappointed by the lack of reaction from the two Narcotics Inspectors. They simply exchanged information and Reaper led the way to his cars. They boarded the lift in silence. Any hypothesis about a drug plot should be done in the secluded office of the Narcotics Bureau. It was their thinking room. Punk whipped out the palm-sized car key with a flat, blank surface. Reaper looked at him expectantly, his hand outstretched.

"No. I will drive. You can do the thinking, Grim Face," Punk said with a cheeky grin. "I have yet to scratch the car."

The pair of grown men squabbled childishly over the car key with Punk winning. He make an enviable slam dunk of the car key from Reaper's hand and received a flick on the forehead. As Punk unlocked the car doors with a tap on the key, his thoughts momentarily thought of the information of Renee.

I will be seeing you soon, little birdie.



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Getting back to her royal suite, Renee was glad that her laptop was set up - with the homepage requiring her passwords waiting for her. She decided to get change before burying herself in front of the electronic as she glanced over her unopened box of gadgets. After a long hot bath, she came out of the bathroom drying her hair with the towel. She tends to like her hair long and straight - but she never knew why. The only problem with her long hair was that she would need two thick towels to dry them. Not to mention combing them took most of her time. She also liked it naturally silver, though most people she came across her life had commented on its odd coloring as if it was bleached.

Sitting in front of her laptop, she put on her glasses. Even with glasses, she looked just as flawless. She searched through the net and found a room-to-rent advert in the local property website. The apartment was spacious and renovated to keep up with the modern design - with three master bedrooms and three bathrooms respectively. One of its rooms was rented out. Renee had a liking to the place. The high windows of the apartment exposed the beauty of the city to the tenants of the place.




It was fully furnished and the one major thing that caught her attention was the grand piano. The apartment had a grand piano. Her thoughts drifted back to the crystal piano she had back at home. How nostalgic! Her eyes dropped down to the rental fees. $1800 per month. The fees were fairly high but worth the place. She made an appointment to meet up with the house owner tomorrow morning to sign the tenancy contract.

Excited over tomorrow's appointment, she decided to call it a night and went to sleep. That night, the dream visited her again. How long had she been dreaming over it? Hundreds of time? Thousands? Probably she had lost count herself. For all she knew, she had been having the premonitory dream since forever. In her dream, she was walking down a red carpet in a very, very bright cathedral. She could see no one but a figure guiding her down the path. As she grew older, she could tell that it was her wedding day. A catastrophe wedding. The dream always end in a cliff-hanging, with her finding her groom died - died in her hands followed by a trail of unfamiliar scream.

Renee snapped out of her sleep and panted heavily. Why was it that she felt the dream being so real? It was so vivid. Her heart was pounding fast, as if afraid of the dream. As if afraid it would repeat itself again. She grabbed a glass of water and sipped it down her throat. Slapping her own cheeks as she smiles, she jumped out of the bed and changed into her casual wear.

She was running late for her appointment as she took the elevator down to the hotel's lounge. Thinking to send the house owner a message, she slipped her hand into her sling bag. Stirring her hand inside, she couldn't feel her phone. As she dug in, the image of the phone slipping off her hand last night came into her view. She looked up, astonished. She left her phone in that man's car!

Great! Just great!

Keeping a calm face on the outside, she was screaming deep inside. The rest of the guests taking the elevator paid no heed to her. She was glad that though she came from the Royscott, her family had always kept her profile low. Only her name was revealed to the world. Even when the reporters write an exclusive report on the Royscott's background and the history behind their success - her details were not much mentioned. Or rather, they couldn't dig the news out of the family and their household. No one from the public ever know how she looked like. Not a picture of her was ever published - not even one from her childhood. Renesmee only appears in tightly secured private parties and dinners.

And even if she does appear in public functions - for example the Royscott's diamond jubilee celebration, half of her face will always hide behind her angelic masquerade mask.

Renee sneaked a surreptitious glance at her watch. The appointment was, fortunately, held in the hotel's lounge. It didn't take her long to find the other party. Contract was signed and the elderly woman suggested to fetch her over to the apartment - before she makes the payment in full. Excusing herself, Renee ran back to her suite.

Renee was glad she could secure the tenancy in her dream apartment, but at the same time annoyed that she left her phone, of all her things, in the stranger's car. She wouldn't mind if it was her purse, or her favourite lip gloss or her Hello Kitty powerbank - but not her phone! She had unpublished songs in that phone - those that needed rearrangement and remixing.

As a music composer and songwriter who was famous through the online video channel, Renee was known as QianXue to her huge group of fans. And again, no one knows how this QianXue looked like. She was famous purely and solely for her songs and that beautiful voice of hers. So, losing her phone may expose her identity as the online idol to the world.

Losing her phone made her world collapsed. Upon returning to her suite, she tried calling her phone - hoping that man would hear it ring and pick it up, and be a gentleman and return it to her. Or at least drop it off at one of the police station so that she could go and claim. The last thing she wanted was to encounter the rude funky-haired guy and his awkward grim-faced partner.

"Hello. The number you dialed cannot be reached at the moment. Please try again later."

She slammed her head onto the table. The staffs - who were packing her luggage, looked up in surprised. Some rushed to her aid. Rising up a hand in front of them, she felt her world had tuned off. She had forgotten that the battery was almost dying last night. Renee sighed as she brought her luggage to the friendly house owner's car. Looking up at the blue sky, she let out another sigh - but it was longer this time and much more disappointed.

Why of all the misfortunes, this had to befall on me......

What Renee thought was just a mere presumption. What she never know, was that by meeting them - the cycle started turning again. And meeting him would unveil the secret to a hidden, unknown mystery of the past. A secret that had crossed the past waiting for them to meet once again.

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The silver Audi cruised down the highway and was skillfully maneuvered around a sharp corner to enter the brightly lit, barren car park of Law Enforcement Center. It must have been a busy night for Punk to not spot a single white-and-blue patrol car. More than one newsworthy case must be rocking the city center. The car was parked in a dark corner and the two men quietly entered the cargo lift. The spacious compartment chugged its way to the fourth floor. The ‘torture’ room laid in wait at the end of the corridor, guarded by a lonely patrol man. They exchanged pleasantries and the patrol officer left immediately for his next destination. Punk headed for the observation room while Reaper abruptly opened the door to the interrogation room. This was a Reaper’s domain.

Punk watched as Reaper slammed the folder on the table, waking the hooker from his drawl. Reaper was not into the “good cop bad cop” game so Punk knew he was not needed (though he should probably play the bad cop). Reaper’s innate ability to make people talked without much physical coercing had been a subject of intrigue for many departments. Many doubt he never used physical violence but with an excellent track record of zero complaints of abuse, the case was not pursued. There were a few who put behind their pride and begged Punk to let them in the observation room while Reaper conducted his interrogation. Punk’s sinister smile managed to turn down the most thickheaded detective. After a twenty minute intensive interrogation, the hooker had confessed to everything he was guilty of and was staring blankly at the ceiling. It had taken a toll on their suspect. Reaper waved at Punk through the one-way mirror to indicate the process was complete. As the two men exited their respective rooms, two policewomen squealed in delight at chancing upon them. Punk grinned and purposely stood closer to Reaper, putting a gentle hand on his triceps. Punk’s puppy eyes met the colder counterpart in Reaper. The two women blushed furiously and hurried away giggling.

“Come on, Grim Face. You are popular. About time you do some fan service.”

“And by fan service, you mean touching me?” Reaper growled. “I do not do inappropriate actions at work.”

“How about after work?” Punk teased with a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Reaper immediately grabbed his supervisor’s head with the large hand of his and dragged him to their office. Punk was finally released when he suggested discussing the case tomorrow.

“You should rest too,” Punk added, noting the twilight enveloping the skies.

Reaper nodded and was reminded of a certain white device he picked up earlier. He passed the handphone to an amused Punk.

“Since you liked her so much,” Reaper uncharacteristically smirked.

The bewildered Punk was left to search through the controversial underground police network with a dead phone for the owner. The network encompasses all surveillance cameras and face-matching programmes to locate any suspicious personnel. It had a wide database of personal files too. Punk was secretly congratulating himself for leaving a set of new clothes for a morning bath in the headquarters. Hopefully, the owner would have enough sense in her tiny silver head to report loss at any police station, saving him the trouble from reading private information.


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Renee passed a signed cheque to the house owner who left with a friendly smile. She glanced around the spacious apartment. Natural sunlight shone into the place, giving off a welcoming aura to its new occupant. She was amazed with the inner design of the apartment - it looked just as described in the picture, but the fact that she was standing there as the new tenant brought her a flush of new emotions. She couldn't contain her excitement at the thought of staying in day and night, cuddling up her favourite glass of iced mocha in her hands as she buries herself in front of her laptop.

She strolled up the stairs with her luggage - one at a time. She was told that the room at the far right was occupied, which left her to pick between the middle room and the room at the far left. She made her way to the far left end then - she would prefer the silent far end of the place. She placed all her luggage beside the queen-sized bed. The room was big and spacious as per the description. She could refurbish it however she want - she had planned to place her computers over at the corner and her electronic keyboard beside it.

She left the room to explore the rest of the house. Her housemate was, unfortunately not around at the time. She had forgotten to inquire some details in regards to her housemate from the house owner. Judging from how well and clean the place was, Renee could tell that her housemate had a thing for cleanliness or maybe OCD.

"I would get along well with her then," she mumbled to herself with a smile as she thought of surprising her new housemate with homemade meals. She planned on making her skilled spaghetti - the ones her grandfather loved the most. "But before that...."

She took out a guidebook given by the hotelier. It would guide her through the town and its cultures. She examined the map and found the nearest police headquarter building from her place. The apartment's coordination which was located right at the outskirts of the city made it a convenience for Renee. With ease, Renee made her way to the police station.

"Excuse me, sir," she called. A yawning police officer in his early 20's stumbled to his feet at the sight of an angel appearing before him. He traced her figure and cleared his throat - intending to impress her. The blond man adjusted his uniform and faced Renee with a cool smile.

"May I help you, miss?" he asked in a clear deep voice. Renee tried hiding her smile by biting her lips. It was oddly amusing. Even in a whole new city, men with this attitude never ceases to disappear from her sight. She didn't think she was attractive. She had always thought of herself as being abnormally weird. Her thoughts drifted off to the two men from yesterday - especially the rude one. He was not the first man that show no sign of interest in her - she didn't care anyway but he was the first rude man who threw empty accusations at her, and calling her 'Little Birdie'.

"I am here to report a lost phone," she said. The officer gave her another set of forms to fill - much to Renee's dislike. She looked through the forms and secretly wished that they could abandon the form system. It was hectic and takes too much time.

"Do you remember where you lost it?" the officer asked, as if trying to stir up a conversation.

"In your colleague's car," she replied short and sweet - to which the officer raised an eyebrow, shocked. His question reminded her then. Maybe there was other alternatives to getting her phone faster than just filing a missing report. "Do you know any officer with bright blue hair and his partner, a grim-faced guy who drives a silver Audi?"

The officer blinked. None of his colleagues could afford such an expensive car though. No one police could afford it. He shook his head and Renee dropped her gaze back to the forms before her face, disappointed. As she continued filling the forms, a cup of hot coffee was pushed to her view. She looked up.

"My treat," the officer said with a smile.

Don't they have anything else better to do than flirting around.... she thought as she smiled back at him. Just then, she remembered a certain detail from the night before.

"Is there a department in the police workforce with a badge shaped like a shield and a butterfly logo on it? I remembered the letters....starts with N...." Renee drawled as she tried calling the image.

"Narcotic Bureau?" another officer popped up his head from behind the counter to take a good look at Renee. "They're not exactly with us. They're a separate division in the Law Enforcement Centre. It is a long story. And the two men you're talking about...one of them should be Punk - the bright haired man and his partner Reaper. The only odd team of the Narcotics Bureau."

Renee smiled at the small hope of discovering her phone real soon.

"How do I contact them?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. The two officers exchanged glances and they both shrugged. Handing them the filled up forms, Renee exited the building with a heavy lump of disappointment down her throat.



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Scorching heat of midday glared at the streetwalkers unforgivably. As Reaper slipped into the building surreptitiously, the heavy stench of sweat was unmistakably apparent to any personnel. He sought refuge in the air-conditioned passenger lift. As the door opened on the fourth floor, Punk walked in hunch, blocking Reaper’s path. Punk’s head lolled from side to side before spotting the towering built of Reaper. His head fell sideways on Reaper’s shoulder and he whispered a few words. The lift door closed just as girlish giggles were heard. Punk immediately snapped back to reality and looked around – a few female officers had entered the lift after him. Apparently, they thought Punk’s lips were too close to Reaper’s ears. Or sideburns. Punk ignored them and continued resting on Reaper’s stiff chest muscles as the lift descended to the non-ventilated corridors on the first floor. As some uncomfortable male occupants squeezed through the crowded lift on individual levels, Reaper put a hand around Punk's shoulders to support him. In fact, Punk felt himself being pulled closer to Reaper's wet chest. At the ground level, Punk’s nose twitched as the lift door opened to release the swooning ladies and admit fetor.

“Ah, Chief Punk. There is a police report for your presence. A complaint about your team, perhaps?” a smug voice greeted the two inspectors as they reached the front desk of the Law Enforcement building.

Punk was not in the mood for humiliation with his lack of sleep and to top it all, the voice belonged to the CSI inspector’s left-hand man. Punk clenched his fist. Reaper prodded Punk’s hips, cautioning him against possibly warning letter from the above. Violence was not an answer to rude people, Reaper seemed to be warning Punk. Punk turned away for a breather while Reaper grabbed the police report from the smirking CSI. He threw a side glance at Punk – the latter seemed to be back to his frivolous demeanour.

“I received the call earlier,” Punk explained, taking the report from Reaper. “I think I can handle this girl myself. I also read your email. The files have been prepared for your reading upstairs. I will meet you in three hours at Seaside Bay.”

Punk smiled dismissively and turned his attention to dialing a phone call to the the girl’s new apartment. Hopefully, he could meet her at the police station she had visited earlier that day. Reaper noticed Punk fingering a fully-charged familiar white handphone in his free hand. Reaper’s thoughts returned to the newly discovered drugs “Holes” and he hoped Punk did not taste it. It was a peculiar habit of Punk to try any new drugs although his preliminary analyse of the sample is quite reliable. A blinking message on Reaper’s mini tablet read “40% Meth. Yuck.”
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Sitting down with her legs crossed in yoga style, Renee was setting up her computers to the keyboard. Connecting the wires together was never her favourite part. She gave up on connecting the wires to the correct portal then. Renee rolled over to the other side of the room, forgetting that she was wearing a dress to take a look in her unopen boxes of treasures. Her closet was up and most of her luggage were unpacked. The last she needed to do on her list was to connect the instrument to the computer - which she had given all hope up. But she knew just who to call for help. She turned around to dig into her bag, only to realise she had yet to get her phone back. It snapped her back to the reality.

Sulking over her fate, her hand moved up to her décolletage and touched her diamond necklace. She played with it as she laid flat on her bed. The necklace was custom-designed to the shape of a key with a floral pattern on the top. It was her 18th birthday present from her grandfather. She'd always been wearing it since then - as per his order. It was her favourite necklace as well. Closing her eyes, her mind driftedof to the sweet memories she shared with her grandfather. He loved her dearly, and even declared her being his favourite grandchild - though she was never seemed to have contributed anything in the favour of the corporation's needs.

The soft music was playing in the background from the media player in her laptop. It was soothing and had a calming effect on her vulnerable soul. She smiled to the song. It was one of her favourite piece composed by Keith. She could tell she was drifting off into a sleep then when her eyelids fell heavy on her. She was suddenly strongly reminded of a dark and cold surrounding in her state of unconsciousness.

"Close your mind! The music is vile! Ye hear me? VILE!" Renee's eyes flung wide open. The voice rang a bell in her mind. She sat up, wondering if she was having some illusions again. But what was that?

Just then, the house phone rang. Renee jumped up - surprised. Who could have called at such a time?

She rushed to the living room downstairs, almost tripping on her own steps.

"Hello?" she answered the call with a doubt. She was hoping it wouldn't be an urgent call for her housemate. Or rather she didn't want to put her hopes too high to get disappointed if it isn't a call in regards to her phone.

"Meet me up at the police station if you want your phone back."

And the line went dead before Renee could reply. Renee blinked, astonished as she looked at the phone before putting it down. "Who was that? Ah! My phone!?"

She grabbed her sling bag and rushed out of the apartment, without forgetting her hat as usual. She reached the police station she visited earlier in less than 10 minutes. This was probably the first place she could remember the route to without the need of the guidebook or getting lost. She stopped opposite the police station, grasping for some air.

She couldn't contain her excitement in getting her most important asset back.


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It was a very ordinary afternoon. Punk even invited the nervous-looking police officer on lunch duty at the patrol post for an afternoon tea. The poor policeman could hardly gulp down his tea as the loud, tu-tone inspector chattered on about anything under the sun, not bothering to receive any remarks from his companion. The policeman prayed the lady-in-question would come soon.

When the handphone owner arrived panting, the policeman was more than welcome to let Punk use the private office at the back as a makeshift interrogation room. The grateful policeman would rather stand outside the air-conditioned patrol post than exchange pleasantries with a loquacious high-ranked inspector.

"There you are, lil' bunny!" Punk exclaimed in joy at the sight of a shimmering silver head. "Come on in! It's cooler in the office."

Punk gestured her with a wide wave and kept his distance. His abrupt change in attitude towards her cast a shadow of doubt in her mind. It was apparent on her face as Punk looked let down.

"Please. I am still an Inspector. I have my pride as a law enforcer to serve my society and support the victims," he spoke sadly, hanging his head slightly.

Then, he noticed he was the only one entering the office. The Lady stood stubbornly behind the threshold, her hand outstretched and her expression fiercely demanding. His eyes narrowed but he quickly put on a friendly smile.

"There is something about the incident you were unwittingly involved in that I have to discuss with you behind closed doors. And no, I have zero interest in taking advantage of you. Time is ticking, lil' bunny. Please have a seat."

Punk carelessly fingered a chair in front of the desk where Punk was busy making himself comfortable behind on an armchair.

"Would you not like to know more about your pursuers and contribute to society in some way? I understand you moved away from your grandfather for a reason. Something like flying away from a glided cage? Perhaps, you already knew this part of the world is quite different from your home. In this city, you may have to learn to expect the unexpected. After all, your first night here has been pretty wild, no?"



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