The OWLS

I take a deep breath as I stare at the third glass of whiskey in my hand. The golden drink shining in the crystal glass with a half-melted ice cube in it. I raise the glass to my mouth and drain the liquid in it. The crystal glass clinks as I place it on the glass counter, gaining the bartender’s attention.

He holds the bottle of whiskey at arm’s length in front of me and smiles

“Care for another drink, sir?”

I take another shaky breath and nod. The bartender pours me another glass of whiskey and places two ice cubes in it. The bar is very peaceful, maybe because I’m the only one in it or it’s way after midnight. The orange light fills the small bar with a comforting and warm aura.

I really needed some time to clear my mind or maybe numb it, after the case I just solved. Usually, criminologists feel proud after figuring out a case. But for me that wasn’t the case. Even after almost 3 years of experience in crime solving, watching people get tortured and brutally murdered, even killing myself, I feel like throwing up every time I finish a case. Criminology may be my passion and the aim of my life but if I say it isn’t hard being in my body, I'd obviously be lying.

The bell on top of the door rings to announce a visitor coming in the bar. I turn my neck around slightly to catch a glimpse of whosoever thought of entering this remote bar at a time like this.

My eyes find their way to a woman, her body slim except for the protruding biceps and the six pack, clearly visible through the stretching material of her overall red suit. The silk of her suit does justice to contour her curves and the muscles. Her jet black hair is tied up in a ponytail. Her mouth however is covered with a black mask.

The woman sits at the end of the counter, a good distance away from me. I bring my eyes back to the glass of whiskey clasped in my hand and take a sip.

The bartender moves towards the new coming customer and asks what drink she would like.

“Red wine.” she orders through her mask, her voice firm and formal and barely any emotion in her eyes.

She looks like she is in her twenties. So obviously she is just a girl. But it just feels wrong to call her a girl. The physique she has, the way she talks and her seriousness is of someone twice her age. She looks like a woman.

The bartender turns around with the smile off of his face and takes out a bottle of red wine from the shelf in front of us. He holds the bottle in front of his stomach as he reaches for the cork opener.

Just at that specific moment, a sharp gunshot is heard from somewhere behind me. The bullet passes straight through the bartender’s abdomen and hits the wine bottle shattering it in pieces. The red wine splashes in the air along with red blood.

A deep gasp escapes my throat as I stand up from the counter. The girl quickly stands up too and jumps over the counter swiftly, reaching the bartender who is lying on the floor unconscious with a pool of blood forming all around him. She sits down beside the bartender holding his wrist up and checks his pulse.

“Call an ambulance.” She instructs me, without looking me in the eye.

I take out my phone and call the emergency line asking for an ambulance at my location. I look from where the bullet had come. The window behind me was open showing an abandoned building ahead.

“A sniper shot him.” I announce. “You should evacuate. There could be more shooting.” I direct my speech towards her. “I can take care of him.”

She keeps silent, pressing her gloved hands directly on the wound. I take that as a refusal. So I instead take out my brass spyglass from the pocket of my coat and move towards the window through which the bullet came. I rotate the portable telescope to zoom on the top of the building and notice a dark figure of a man. The dark of the night makes it very hard to notice a person but it’s obvious that he is a man. As he notices me looking at him, he vanishes from there.

I take my phone out and dial the local police.

“Bring the men. We’ve got a case.”

The unconscious body of the bartender is taken to a nearby hospital in the ambulance. The strange female is still with the police officers and me in the hospital. She stands in the corner, arms folded and face still hidden with a black mask. The head police officer looks at me. I immediately get his instruction. He wants me to start investigating and so I nod back at him in reply. I move towards the girl with the strange mask.

“Do you know the bartender personally?” I question her.

She just shakes her head in refusal. Although I am a professional criminologist, her presence makes it hard for me to even speak, let alone investigate her. She has got this powerful spirit that is very dense. But I need to fulfill my duty and inquire so I gain some nerves back.

“What is your name, miss?”

She stares at me. And keeps staring. Then a deep voice from inside her throat replies to my question.

“I’d rather not say. Ask Chief Ezra.”

How does she know our chief? Chief Ezra is the head of the whole police department. He makes all the rules. He is basically the boss. But he isn’t very extroverted. He likes to keep himself out of reach and this random girl knowing his name is kind of strange. Although Chief Ezra doesn’t like to talk much, he’s a great leader and due to his fine work we are today a team of very hardworking people who solve crime cases.

Whoever this girl is, speaks of Chief Ezra with respect and it is obvious by the way she says his name that she knows him so I take my phone out and search my contacts for the chief’s number.

Once the bell is ringing on the other side of the phone, I move away from the girl, into a corner to talk to the chief.

“Good morning, chief. We had a case in a local bar in Barrow, Alaska. I and another girl were there at the time of the murder. There is this girl, who proposes that she’d rather not say her name and I should ask you about her.” I declare and then wait for any response.

“Let her go. She shouldn’t be here for long.” Chief says with a serious tone. Although I have many questions about this specific instruction he gave me, I don’t argue about it.

“Understood.” I say firmly and hang up. I don’t get it. She was there when the murder happened and the chief wants me to let her go without investigation.

I move towards the girl as I’m putting my phone in the pocket of my coat. Her eyes are cold and dark and both her brows stretched. She is the absolute definition of powerful.

I open my mouth and close it, embarrassed about what I’m going to say.

“You can go.” I mutter trying not to look directly in her eyes. Confusion has still taken over me. I look back to see her standing. She doesn’t move. She stays still like my words have no effect on her. I go even closer to her and say again, “Chief said you’re allowed to go.”

Her confident eyes meet mine. She raises her right hand and removes the black leather glove with her left one. She pulls the fabric perfectly stuck to each of her fingers until all of them are loose and then she pulls away the glove from her right hand.

She presents her right hand in front of me with a slight lift of an eyebrow. Although she is wearing a mask, I can tell by the way her eyes squint a little that she must have a modest smile on her lips.

“You are?” Her unflinching voice demands.

I take her hand in mine, giving it a tiny shake.

“Sage Hollow, the criminologist of the forces. What about you?”

She looks to the right and then to the left, making sure there is no one else listening or watching. She elevates her ungloved hand to her mask and pulls it off. A gasp escapes my throat to the sight in front of me. My stare flawlessly defines the horror in my body.

Her mouth lingers around my ears and she whispers in it, sending a quiver down my body.

“Ophelia Jones, the head of the OWL.”

I catch a glimpse of her face trying to drink in each and every part of it because I know this may be the first and the last time to do so. Her face is gracefully contoured at the most perfect places. No sign of innocence but absolute wisdom. She is more flawless than everyone thinks. And I feel honored to see such a godly vision.

She pulls herself back placing the black mask back on her face. I stand there unmovable. This is the head of the OWL, Ophelia Jones herself. The secret agency that is currently functioning for the forces. The three member agency that can track crimes, hack their data and even kill whole gangs effortlessly.

I keep gawking at her, unable to comprehend even if everything is understandable. But if she is the member of a secret agency, why did she tell me about herself? I am still puzzled by the fact and so I ask her with my furrowed brows.

“Why did you tell me this?”

Her eyes thin out once again and a dry chuckle is heard from her.

“That is because I’ll be seeing you soon, Sage Hollow.”

Why would she be seeing me soon? What does it mean? I still have many questions to ask her but I look vacantly at her as she leaves the hospital building through the elevator. I look down the window and all I see is a crowd of people moving all along the streets and no sign of her. Ophelia Jones has vanished. Something she is the best at.