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It's hard to do a job. It's hell when that job involves a race against time to save a person from dying.


Name- Julian Lucaster
Age- 27
Sex- male
Profession- detective
Characteristics- brown messy hair, grey eyes, square face, 1m89



One hour and nineteen minutes till another murder. No suspects have been identified.

"Any leads Lucaster?" Julian couldn't make out wether this was a sarcastic comment or a genuine concern, either way, he was too worked up to reply. Time was ticking and if we wanted to catch the culprit, wether it be human or not, we needed to act imminently.

"Fine don't speak. All I'm just saying is that there are more cases pilling up that need to be solved instead of you putting all your eggs in one basket."

"God Delassi. Every day someone is killed. Don't you see? That makes an average of 30 a month, forget about a month, 365 a year! This is one of the largest on-going genocides ever known to man."


"Fine. I understand, but the crew and I are drowning in cases and we could do with an extra hand around here. Don't get me wrong, you can continue investigating the daily death case, but please, choose a few other cases to lighten the load."

"Yeah Conrad. I suppose your right. What can I do to help?"

"There's been a fire at a local pizzeria in Toulouse. We suspect it's arson but we need proof."

"Toulouse? OK."

"Do you want a partner?"

"I'm good Delassi." That was that. Julian never felt so hopeless. He lost faith in himself and now, he could tell his colleagues had too.


On a low, he set off with his files and other necessities to Toulouse. Once his cab pulled up to the paid hotel, all Lucaster could manage was to collapse onto the bed with a satisfactory flop, but he knew he had to strive though and get the proof of arson. Conscious of his stiffening limbs, Julian lay on the plushy four post bed. What is happening to me. He thought I used to crack any case in at least a month, varying with difficulty. Nowadays I can't even determine what is killing all these innocent people? Every minute brings us closer to someone's doom. Now only 50 minutes remain. At this point Julian was spiralling into the depths of despair and began fumbling for his phone to relieve his brain with a bit of music. Pressing shuffle on his playlist gave him an element of surprise.

Don't let me down
Don't let me down

The hypnotic harmony of John and Paul's voices soothed Julian's brain. The words spoke to him. Don't let me down. Those four words renewed his faith in himself. Along with new found faith, he also gained energy.


45 minutes. There was nothing Lucaster could do in the remaining time so he decided to head for the pizzeria.

Brrrrrring brrrrrring

"Lucaster? You there yet?" Julian acquiesced.
"I'm on my way to the scene now."
"Be careful out there Jules. Don't get me wrong, you're one of our best detectives-"
"But... You haven't been on a crime scene in a few years-"
"I'll be fine Delassi." With that, he hung up. Julian hadn't thought about his last time on a crime scene in months. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to reminisce about. Feeling himself falling back into a deep, spiraling trance.

Don't let me down.

As Julian neared the scene, he took heavy breaths and thought of those magic words. He felt himself begin to relax and feel confident.


"Good morning. WPD detective Julian Lucaster here. I heard about the fire, I'm terribly sorry."
"I went out for dinner with my wife, when we came back, the place was ablaze." Tears began to well up in the chef's eyes as emotion struck.
"Mr Leonopli, is there anyone who you think could have done this? Any enemies?"
Before Leonopli could respond, the pain he tried to swallow all along was released in one go. Julian thought it best to leave the couple recuperate for a few hours and he could come back in a few hours time.
"That would be much appreciated Mr Lucaster."


Leaving the couple, Lucaster decided to grab a cup of coffee in an attempt to also regain some energy.


Finding a nice café called "la belle époque", he sat inside, by a fireplace, a cozy armchair calling his name.


A waiter walked over to him.
"Que voudriez vous monsieur?"
"Un café s'il vous plait."


After ordering himself a coffee, Lucaster felt rather content and began to forget all of his sorrows.


The strong coffee hit the spot.


A shrill scream echoed throughout the town. Checking his pocket watch, Julian sprinted over to where he thought he heard the cry. To his horror, there lay Leonopli. His wife as pale as a sheet and her face distraught.
"AN AMBULANCE!" Yelled Lucaster.

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