Dr. A

The Detective tugged at his hair, while chestnut eyes skimmed through the notes before him. “This makes no goddamn sense”, the man shouted. His fist hammered into the desk, knocking the ink over as the liquid spilled towards his clues.   He had first encountered Dr. A’s name at the old crime scene within a Diestrian border town. A minor demon that had been hunted for three years for the murder of a mayor had been found dead within its own victims cellar. A place the detective himself had already investigated several times before.   Tracking down the demon slayer proved easy, as he was bragging about his kill within the local tavern. This self proclaimed Occult Hunter would become his first lead, as the investigator asked how he knew where the demon was hiding.   “Dr. A warned me that the target was most likely a competent illusionist.” - Was all he would answer.   The Detective slammed his palms against the desk and rose up. His thoughts accompanied him into the kitchen as he grasped for a bottle of whiskey. His hand shook, as he took a mouthful of liquid courage from the smoky liquor. The scent of alcohol brought him back to the memories of the many psychiatric institutions which Dr A’s name led him to investigate.   This is where he came across the first impossibility, during his interviews with experts versed in soul and mnemonic magic - a dozen accounts of Dr. A spoke of him not as a patient, but a patron for victims of mind-altering magical anomalies.   As he recalled their testimonies, they had all seen Dr. A. The descriptions were all alike, as if Dr. A only had one outfit in his wardrobe, and yet, there was a schism to his nature. While some accurately pointed him out as the leader, or at least a high ranking officer of some secretive agency - many of them had started to doubt Dr. A as an entity and more as a concept.   The man was described as having no aura and seemingly lacked a soul. Which is when the impossibility comes into play. Some summed this up to protective charms, to hide his identity. Others swore that he was an illusion, likely conjured to cover for a noble whose illicit search for esoteric knowledge had caused the psychic incident among the patients. A parley trick, to avoid the law.   As for the victims themselves. Not a single one doubted Dr. A’s existence - but they were all so mentally scarred that one had screamed when the Detective entered. Accusing him of being an evil monkey there to bash his head in with a door shaped book.   It made no sense to the Detective, but at the same time it did. That the aristocracy gave anonymous help to insignificant names was uncommon, but not unheard of. He himself had worked a case where a baron paid steep medical bills to buy the silence of a hound savaged peasant, which the baron had hired to steal a portrait from a rival dynasty. The pieces also came together with what the Occult Hunter had said. Dr. A was most likely an alias for a nobleman with their sticky fingers in the wrong jar.   The Detective took another swig from the whiskey. His thoughts rushed, as he searched for yesterday's newspaper. As he found it upside-down on a chair, the weirdness of it all crashed back down on him. When a plausible theory for Dr. A’s identity had just presented itself within his intuition - this happens.   Massacre at Menedeia square.   Eight demon worshippers opened fire towards the townhall at Menedeia Square, but were killed in retaliation by a lone gunman? Several witnesses reported that a man calling himself Dr. A suddenly arrived and took them out in rapid succession. Though, as the hours passed a few stories changed. Claiming it was actually the swift response of the local guardforce that neutralized the threats. The investigation of the incident is now underway - as investigators are trying to find the heroes that prevented the tragedy, and how come the fanatics' causes of death are found to be due to synchronized heart attacks.   The experts say that the situation seems to point towards combined efforts from both law enforcement and civilian bravery that led to their infernal patron cutting out the losses to avoid retaliation from our esteemed Holy Imperator.   The Detective crumbled the newspaper and threw it to the floor. Was this even a man he was chasing, or had he come across the symptoms of a global psychosis? Only one thing was clear, for his questions to be answered - he’d have to infiltrate the Occult Hunters.