Encounterlogs
Jayanths Odd Encounter Sr Janette 250402
In the quiet dawn of Haven, Jayanth encounters an unsettling confrontation that disrupts his morning routine. Stepping out from his morning run, he senses a peculiar tension in the air accentuated by a police car slowing nearby, overhearing fragmented police radio chatter hinting at a suspect with possible ties to international syndicates. This moment ignites his instincts that something is amiss. At a local café, a cryptic text message sends chills down his spine, reinforcing his sense of unease. Despite trying to maintain normalcy by engaging in light banter with the barista, Jayanth can't shake the feeling of unease, his thoughts racing with possibilities of encroaching danger. His contemplation is interrupted by a synchronized encounter with state police, prompting a situation fraught with underlying threats and tacit acknowledgment of a more complex scenario than a casual police inquiry.
Jayanth finds himself under the scrutiny of the state police, who approach him with veiled intentions, suggesting he is a person of interest in connection to "international activities." The interaction escalates quickly, with Jayanth maintaining his composure and invoking his rights in the face of vague accusations and the pressure to comply without clear reasoning or warrant. His astute observations and the calculated exchange reveal his background in dealing with high-stress situations, allowing him to navigate the confrontation with careful diplomacy. Meanwhile, a mysterious student's fleeting but knowing glances from across the street catch Jayanth's attention, suggesting a deeper layer of surveillance or signaling at play. As the police car departs, leaving more questions than answers, Jayanth's observant nature picks up on the shifting dynamics around him, signaling a complex weave of connections and the ominous presence of a larger plot. With the situation diffused but his mind awash with concerns, Jayanth decides to move towards a place of significance, hinting at a looming confrontation or revelation tied to his past actions and affiliations.
(Jayanth's odd encounter(SRJanette):SRJanette)
[Sat Mar 29 2025]
In a neatly organised bedroom
This immaculately kept bedroom reflects a perfect combination of a distinguished military career and beloved cultural heritage, exuding a sense of pride, honor, and a deep connection to the occupant's roots.
The walls are painted in a warm, earthy tone, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. Adorning the walls are framed photographs capturing significant moments from time spent in military service, including images of them in uniform, receiving awards, and standing alongside their comrades, serving as a constant reminder of the achievements and sacrifices they made for their country.
A large Indian flag, neatly folded and encased in a glass frame, is prominently displayed on one wall, symbolizing the soldier's patriotism and dedication to their nation. Adjacent to it, a display case showcases numerous medals, badges, and commendations, meticulously arranged in chronological order. Each medal represents a distinct achievement and serves as a testament to bravery and valor on the battlefield.
The bed, positioned against the wall opposite the photographs, is adorned with crisp, neatly arranged sheets and a duvet cover featuring traditional and exhotic patterns. Placed on the bedside table is a small, intricately designed brass lamp, reminiscent of the ones found in many Indian temples, providing a soft, warm glow to the room.
A wooden desk, cluttered with books on military history and strategy, sits obediently to one corner of the room and houses a small brass elephant standing between the piled books. A well-worn leather chair accompanies the desk, indicating countless hours dedicated to study and planning.
A bookshelf lines one wall, filled with a diverse collection of literature, ranging from military memoirs to classic texts, suggesting a intellectual curiosity and desire to continue learning even after retiring from active duty.
In another corner of the room is a small shrine dedicated to family and ancestors, consisting of framed photographs of loved ones along with religious idols and candles, creating a serene space for reflection and gratitude.
It is dawn, about 16F(-8C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Someone has sent the state police after your target. Perhaps they're a real criminal or perhaps they've been framed, in either case it's up to them to get their arrest warrant handled and removed.
)
Its just about dawn, and the streets of Haven are still quiet. The occasional streetlight flickers out, the mist still lingering, and the first few cars pass as the world starts waking up. Jayanth finishes his morning run, his breath still visible in the cool morning air as he slows to a walk, heading toward his favourite caf thats always open this early. Adjusting his jacket before stepping inside, he takes the moment to scan his surroundings. As he proceeds towards the refurbished entrance, the hum of an HSD car catches his attention. Its not unusual for cops to patrol the town at all hours, especially around Havens more... interesting neighborhoods. Maybe a night duty officer on his way in to submit another dry report, or worse: an eventful one. Friday nights were brutal. But something in the air feels different today. He catches snippets of the radio as the officers car slows, approaching the college campus, housing the HSD department. The words are loud enough for Jayanth to hear, but just vague enough to cause unease: "...suspect confirmed, Haven...state-level priority...possible ties to international syndicates..." The officer's window rolls down, a burst of static from the radio, then a voice, slightly distorted, continues with the same message. "...Haven...be on the lookout." As the car drives past, the radio fades out, but not before Jayanth hears something thats clear enough to make him pause for a split second: "ties ot international syndicates..." His eyes narrow, and his mind starts working quickly. He doesnt feel threatened yet, but his instincts are telling him somethings wrong. The reference to international syndicates another encroachment on Haven? Something the Hand would be involved in wouldn't surprise him, but they had their fingers in so many pies it wouldn't even reach the scanners. Probably. He walks up to the caf, keeping an eye out for anything strange as he pushes the door open, the bell above the door jingling. The dark-haired barista nods to him as he enters, expert hands already prepping his usual 'black, no sugar.' "You're the first one in today," she chirps, just as she does every other day he stops by after a run. The place almost always empty this early in the morning. As he waits for his coffee, his phone vibrates in his pocket. The content simple, almost non-sensical even, but one that sends prickles up his spine. The message is clear enough to him. A tiny emoji, a face wearing a pair of shades. Next to it, a stialised D.
Jayanth freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over the counter as a wave of unease washes over him. The text, so cryptic, yet so familiar in its own way, unsettles him. Hes no stranger to messages like this, codes, symbols, fleeting hints, but its been a while since something like this turned up. He taps the screen of his phone, his mind racing as he glances around the caf. The barista is humming to herself, completely oblivious. Did she say something to him? His gaze lingers on her smiling face, too long? She must hear a lot of chatter around here, could she know something? The street outside is still just as quiet, like a lull before the storm. Taking a deep breath, Jayanth shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket, forcing the unease down. He doesnt need to react immediately. He knows that. But this, this feels different. The reference to international syndicates, the faint sense that somethings closing in on him, it gnaws at the edges of his thoughts. Pull yourself together goddamnit. You're overthinking, again. Paranoid fuck "Piss off", he mutters quietly to himself, then shakes his head. He'd learned to ignore that inner voice years ago: the one who insisted he was losing it in one form or another, the one who reminded him that he was inconsequential, unseen, unknown. Dispensable. The one that could, and would, probably get him killed. No. Theres always something, and the fact that this message came now, after hearing those words on the radio, feels like more than coincidence. The barista sets the cup of black coffee in front of him, her bright smile untouched by the tension building inside him. He nods, acknowledging her usual cheerful demeanor, though his mind is elsewhere. Picking up the coffee, he leaves a tip, his hand lingering on the counter for a moment longer than usual, as if debating whether to leave the caf or take a moment to gather his thoughts. Something feels off, but what exactly? The familiar comfort of his morning routine now feels like a mask for the unease in the pit of his stomach. Jayanth leaves the caf, his pace steady but purposeful, his senses alert to every passing car, every shadow in the mist. Theres no immediate threat... yet, but he knows better than to ignore his instincts. He glances down at his phone again. That emoji, the shades he knows who this message is from. But why now? Whats going on?
The street outside is still wrapped in morning mist, the pale glow of dawn stretching long shadows across the pavement. Faint scents of damp earth and lingering coffee eddy around in the cool, crisp morning air. A few cars pass, their headlights cutting through the fog, but nothing about them seems out of place. Normal, quiet. Too quiet... Then, a sound. Faint, just at the edge of Jayanth's hearing. Not the usual early-morning shuffle of a waking town, but something deliberate. A slow, measured footstep on damp concrete.
Not an immediet threat, no, but someone is still watching. For sure someone is watching... Jayanth whips around, ignoring the splash of hot coffee on his jacket sleeve as his free hand dips towards his pocket. "STOP! You're panicking, panic is a rookie's game. Dab that sludge off your hand drink your shit and keep walking." The vague notion that his inner voice took on the note and tone of his friend's only faintly amuses him as he, against his usual judgement, does as he's told. "Suppose there could be worse recollections than Moe's voice when he needed a fix..." Then again, he did just almost shoot a college kid. Maybe he is losing it...
The moment lingersjust long enough for doubt to creep in, just long enough for Jayanth to second-guess the instinct that told him he was being watched. The kid across the street shifts, shoulders hunched, a phone in hand, probably scrolling through some pointless feed. Nothing. Just another student. Except... The wail of sirens shatters the silence like a slej hammer. Short, sharp bursts, not the drawn-out warning of a high-speed chase, but the kind that means someone is about to be stopped. Controlled. Taken in. Blue and red lights flicker through the mist, bouncing off the windows of nearby buildings as a black-and-white state police cruiser rounds the corner. Not Havens Sheriff Departmentthese are outsiders. And they are here for something specific. For someone specific. The cruiser doesnt speed past. It slows. The radio chatter inside crackles, muffled by the rolled-up windows, but Jayanth knows the rhythm of police movement. Two officers inside. The driver speaking into his radio. The passenger shifting, already preparing to step out. They arent drawing weapons. Thats good. It means they want him alive, at least. But alive for what? Then the loudspeaker pops. A voice, firm but not quite aggressive, rolls through the morning air: Jayanth Smith. Place your hands where we can see them.
There it is. The weight of the moment crashing down. They know his name. Jayanth's pulse doesn't slow so much as steady as his training kicks in, the voice in his head that sounds too much like his demonborn friend settling into the cold, quiet eficiency the Asian picked up from the angry young man he would call brother, counting every available exit. "3 cars parked nearby. A narrow alley 2 buildings down, close enough to the park to make pursuit confusing. The mist is still lingering, enough to provide some cover. The college campus is too open, too many eyes and potential casualties if this gets ugly." The officer stepping out is young, maybe a couple of years younger than Jayanth and carrying the confidence that comes with youthful ignorance of one's own limitations, by the way his hand lingers near his holster but doesn't move to draw. "He thinks this is going to be easy."
"State police," the young officer says, as if that wasnt obvious. "We just want to talk." Thats a lie. Or at the very least, not the whole truth. Behind the tinted windshield, the driver stays put, watching. His radio crackles again, a voice on the other end just a little too fast, a little too eager. Backup? A check-in?
The street is waking up now, too slow to be a real problemyet. A car turns the corner up ahead, its headlights cutting through the mist, its driver slowing just a little at the sight of the state trooper parked in an unusual spot. No immediate interference. No cover either.
The street is waking up now, too slow to be a real problem, yet. A car turns the corner up ahead, its headlights cutting through the mist, its driver slowing just a little at the sight of the state trooper parked in an unusual spot. No immediate interference. No cover either. The officer watches Jayanth closely, reading his body language, searching for any sign of a fight-or-flight decision. Hes seen it before, probably rehearsed in a mirror, maybe even drilled in training. "You can make this easy," the cop continues, stepping just a little closer. "No cuffs, no scene. Just a conversation." Hes closing the space, subtly, deliberately. Not so much that it would be aggressive, but enough to make running harder. The car door behind him remains open. The driver inside still hasnt moved. The kid across the street finally looks up from his phone, drawn by the police presence, hesitation in his eyes. A witness. Tch. Then the radio crackles again, this time, just one word. "Confirmed." The driver finally moves, reaching for something. Clipboard? Cuffs? Or something worse?
Jayanth's grip on the coffee cup tightens for just a second before he exhales slowly, controlled. Hes out in the open. No cover. No clear way out that doesn't turn this into a chase or a mess. And that's the last thing he needs. His gaze flicks to the kid across the street, too aware now, phone in hand. A civilian. A witness. That alone is enough to shift his priorities. Jayanth lets his muscles relax, just enough to seem non-threatening. Hands still visible, he lifts his coffee, taking a slow sip. An act of casual defiance, maybe, but also a calculated move. A man about to run doesn't take the time to drink his coffee. He swallows, then finally speaks. His voice is level, edged with just the right amount of curiosity rather than resistance. "State police, huh? Bit early for all this. What's this about?" Keep them talking. Make them explain. Make them commit to a reason before they can control the narrative. If they wanted a quiet pickup, forcing them to lay out their case in public puts them in a tricky spot. His eyes flick briefly to the drivers hands. Clipboard. Not a weapon. Thats something. But whats on that clipboard? A warrant? An order? A misfiled mess of bad intel? The young officer hesitates, just a fraction of a second. Thats a win. Jayanth waits, his expression unreadable, the steam from his coffee curling in the cold morning air. If theyre here on shaky grounds, all he has to do is keep them that way. If they push, he has optionsbut for now, this is a game of patience. And he plays to win.
The young officer shifts his weight, caught between the script he was given and the man standing in front of him. The hesitation isnt much, just a flicker of doubt before he straightens, falling back on procedure. "We have some questions for you, Mr. Smith," he says, the confidence returning to his tone, though not quite as solid as before. "Wed prefer to have this conversation somewhere more... official." He doesn't say under arrest. He doesn't say detained. But the implication lingers in the space between his words. From inside the car, the driver speaks again into the radio, voice low, deliberate. There's no static this time, no distortion. A direct line. Jayanth knows what that means, someone on the other end is waiting for an update. Watching, maybe. This isn't just routine. The young officer lifts his chin slightly. A test of authority. "We can do this easy, or we can make a scene. Up to you." A classic bluff. They don't want a scene, not really. Not with bystanders already watching, not when Haven is the kind of town where people ask questions. The real question is, how much of this is a formality, and how much of it is something worse?
Jayanth doesn't move immediately. Doesn't shift his weight, doesn't tense up, just keeps his breath even, his expression carefully neutral. A fraction of a second to process, to let the officer's words hang between them. Then, with the same steady control, he speaks. "What kind of questions?" Not aggressive, not defensive. Just measured. A simple request for clarity. His gaze flicks to the radio inside the cruiser, then back to the officer's face. Reading him. Watching for the slightest tell. The way the kid squares his shoulders, like he thinks authority alone is enough to make someone comply. The way his fingers twitch slightly near his belt, like he's reminding himself not to reach for his weapon. They don't have enough to bring him in by force. Not yet. So why are they here? What exactly do they think they have?
The young officer's jaw tightens, just for a second. He wasnt expecting pushback, not even real pushback, just the simple act of not immediately complying. That hesitation, that brief flicker of uncertainty, is all Jayanth needs to confirm what he already suspects. This guy isn't in control. The driver is still in the cruiser, watching through the windshield. His radio crackles again, and this time, the voice is clearer. "Hold position." The officer in front of Jayanth exhales through his nose, as if re-centering himself. "It's just routine questioning." Another lie. He doesn't even believe it himself. "We have reason to believe you might have information regarding certain international activities. We'd appreciate your cooperation." There it is again. International activities. A vague, useless phrase meant to sound official. They're fishing. And if they're fishing, it means they don't have a solid case. Yet. The officer tilts his head slightly, watching for a reaction. "You're not in trouble, Mr. Smith. But refusing to answer a few simple questions would be unfortunate." Not a threat. Not officially. But it has all the weight of one.
Jayanth keeps his stance relaxed, though his mind continues racing. He tilts his head slightly, considering the officers response before replying: "If this is official, I assume you have a warrant?" His tone is calm, almost casual, but the message is clearhes not going anywhere unless they show proper paperwork. "If you just have some questions, Im happy to set up a time to talkwith a lawyer present, of course."
"Why?" the officer snaps, his composure slipping rapidly. He wasn't haulled out here before the sun was done dragging its firy ass over the horizon with just half a cup of coffee that tasts like the cardboard cup it came in just to stand here bantering legalities with this punk with his double phrap...mocha...whatever. "Do you have something to hide, Mr Smith?" Two can play this game. "If you're an innocent man then you can ansewr a few questions, can't you? What's the harm in it?" Movement in the cruiser draws the attention of both men, the driver signaling his partner. Lucky save? Or a new development? More squalking over the radio makes it through the static...static? Far too much that wasn't there before. And is the mist... getting thicker? And where'd that kid go...
Jayanth's gaze sharpens, instinct kicking in as the officer's tone slips into frustration. His mind races, running through every possible reason why the officer would push for an interrogation so aggressively, especially if they don't even have a solid reason for arrest yet. Theres something off about this whole situation, and it's starting to feel like the first shift in a storm. He can feel the officer's words like a tug on the thread of a larger picture, one thats unraveling faster than he would like. "You've got a lot of assumptions, officer," Jayanth says, his voice steady but his mind working overtime, scanning the surroundings for anything that doesn't fit. "But if you're asking if I have something to hide, then the answer is no." He meets the officer's eyes, holding the gaze for a beat before continuing. "But I do have rights. Do you mean to infringe on my rights?"
The officer faulters for a split-second, shifting his glance towards the White Oak campus across the street, sprawling innocently in silent witness to the unfolding scene with an air of unsettling awareness, as if the stones themselves and the woods around them had eyes, and they were fixed on the duo. The younger man flinches at the now unbarible static coming through the radio, his earlier bravado crumbling beneath the weight of whatever is creeping just beyond the surface. Air thickening with tention as he glances back at Jayanth, he swallows nervously and shifts his weight, visibly unsettled by something. "Look man, this isn't personal alright? We've got orders, I'm just doing my job." His eyes dart towards the cruiser for some, any kind of help, then stumbles on when he finds none. The driver, eerily still and intent soley on the radio that's anything but coherant now. "This's been months coming, you should've known someone would catch up. Don't take it out on me cause I just happened to be the grunt, man." His hand, so previously controled now clammy and shaking combs its fingers through his hair, and the officer blinks: like the action itself surprised him. "You're in it big, man. Where ever your boss's name cropps up yours is right there with it, and if it ain't then your description is. Alright? We're not stupid, we know it's you. Whatever money-laundering scam business deal you've got going on, it won't be lasting long. So... so just make this easier for yourself an..." The driver shifts then, leaning forward in his sceat and voice cutting through the tention. "Calm down, Sergeant, we're not here to make a scene. Let's, not stur things up more than we have to." The gesture's subtle, the tone cool: but something's clearly changed, and the static over the radio? Gone. The Sergeant stares back at his partner in clear bemusement, but for the first time through out the encounter opts for silence. He forces a smile when he turns back to give one last look at Jayanth, "Look, it's just a precaution. We don't want any trouble, Smith, and I'm sure neither do you, right? It'd be easier on everyone if you just cooperated, and avoid a whole big mess too."
With a slight, sarcastic grin tugging at the corner of his lips, Jayanth takes a slow sip of his now chilled coffee, savoring the bitterness. He leans back slightly, watching the cop squirm. It's all a little too much to take seriously. "Could you send me that in writing?" he quips casually, his voice dripping with irony as he raises an eyebrow. "I'll be sure to forward it, along with your concerns to my attorney." He takes another sip, trying not to grimace at the lack of its comforting heat. Appearances matter though, at least that's what his 'boss' keeps telling him and in this case, Jayanth is inclined to trust in that litany. His eyes remain fixed on the officer as the tension lingers in the air. There's no immediate threat yet, but things are definitely starting to unravel. The officer's glare in response is sharp, but Jayanth can see the cracks in his composure. The cop knows he's lost ground, and the power dynamic has definitely shifted, even if ever so slightly. After a long, uncomfortable silence, the officer spins on his heel and heads back to the cruiser, not without one last glare. The moment he slides into the driver's seat, the vehicles engine hums to life, and the car begins to roll slowly away. The officers eyes linger on the Asian's for a moment, something between frustration and fear flickering before the car turns the corner, fading into the misty morning. Jayanth exhales, and the familiar comfort of lighting a cigarette helps calm his racing thoughts. The ember flickers, and he watches it burn, his mind already turning over the conversation. A little sarcastic banter never hurt anyone, right? With the tension starting to dissipate, he inhales deeply, the smoke rising into the cool morning air, the fog thickening around him.
The officers words echo in the back of someone mind as the state police cruiser vanishes into the mist, the silence in the street now almost eerie. His senses sharpen once again as the haze of his cigarette drifts into the air, but something feels different now. The tension has only shifted, not disappeared. A flicker of something... danger perhaps, lingers in the back of his mind. The Sergeant's slip-up, the references to people hes connected to, its all tying together. The city feels quieter than before, but the morning's stillness is almost oppressive. The distant sound of sirens fades in and out, the hum of the city carrying just enough of a distant edge to it to keep Jayanth on alert. The street is empty, save for a few early risers, but the sense that someone's watching is still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the next move. As the last few tendrils of smoke from Jayanth's cigarette curl into the cool morning air, something catches his eye across the street. The student, the one with the phone, has reappeared, almost out of nowhere, stepping out from the shadows of a building near the college campus. He glances at Jayanth, his eyes lingering on his watch for a split second, before meeting his gaze with a look thats... knowing. There's an almost imperceptible shift in the young man's posture as he offers a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment of something unsaid, before he disappears once again into the mist, vanishing into the deeper parts of the campus. The former soldier's instincts twitch. Theres something unsettling about that fleeting glance: the look was far too deliberate, far too aware. That student, seemingly just another passerby moments ago, might have had something to do with the sudden shift in atmosphere. The change in the air, the tension from the officers, the radio chatter... Had that kid been in the right place at the right time? Or had he orchestrated this, somehow? Jayanth cant shake the nagging suspicion that there's more to this than meets the eye. He takes one last look at the cryptic text on his phone. The emoji, the stylized D... Its still there, still unreadable, but its enough to gnaw at him. With a sharp breath, he tosses the remainder of the disgusting coffee out and flicks the rose-painted paper cup into the nearest trash can. It's not worth it anymore. His nerves are already too raw, the adrenaline still creeping under his skin. Without a second thought, he starts jogging, his stride purposeful as he heads north, away from the town's center and towards the beach houses. The familiar path, the rhythm of his feet on the pavement, gives him a semblance of control again, but his mind is a blur of questions. What was that kid's role? And how deep does this go? The manor, the place hed been avoiding, the place where Sedlak's influence still looms heavy, it's where answers might lie, even if they're not the ones he wants to hear.
The officers words echo in the back of Jayanth's mind as the state police cruiser vanishes into the mist, the silence in the street now almost eerie. His senses sharpen once again as the haze of his cigarette drifts into the air, but something feels different now. The tension has only shifted, not disappeared. A flicker of something... danger perhaps, lingers in the back of his mind. The Sergeant's slip-up, the references to people hes connected to, its all tying together. The city feels quieter than before, but the morning's stillness is almost oppressive. The distant sound of sirens fades in and out, the hum of the city carrying just enough of a distant edge to it to keep Jayanth on alert. The street is empty, save for a few early risers, but the sense that someone's watching is still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the next move. As the last few tendrils of smoke from Jayanth's cigarette curl into the cool morning air, something catches his eye across the street. The student, the one with the phone, has reappeared, almost out of nowhere, stepping out from the shadows of a building near the college campus. He glances at Jayanth, his eyes lingering on his watch for a split second, before meeting his gaze with a look thats... knowing. There's an almost imperceptible shift in the young man's posture as he offers a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment of something unsaid, before he disappears once again into the mist, vanishing into the deeper parts of the campus. The former soldier's instincts twitch. Theres something unsettling about that fleeting glance: the look was far too deliberate, far too aware. That student, seemingly just another passerby moments ago, might have had something to do with the sudden shift in atmosphere. The change in the air, the tension from the officers, the radio chatter... Had that kid been in the right place at the right time? Or had he orchestrated this, somehow? Jayanth cant shake the nagging suspicion that there's more to this than meets the eye. He takes one last look at the cryptic text on his phone. The emoji, the stylized D... Its still there, still unreadable, but its enough to gnaw at him. With a sharp breath, he tosses the remainder of the disgusting coffee out and flicks the rose-painted paper cup into the nearest trash can. It's not worth it anymore. His nerves are already too raw, the adrenaline still creeping under his skin. Without a second thought, he starts jogging, his stride purposeful as he heads north, away from the town's center and towards the beach houses. The familiar path, the rhythm of his feet on the pavement, gives him a semblance of control again, but his mind is a blur of questions. What was that kid's role? And how deep does this go? The manor, the place hed been avoiding, the place where Sedlak's influence still looms heavy, it's where answers might lie, even if they're not the ones he wants to hear.
Jayanth finds himself under the scrutiny of the state police, who approach him with veiled intentions, suggesting he is a person of interest in connection to "international activities." The interaction escalates quickly, with Jayanth maintaining his composure and invoking his rights in the face of vague accusations and the pressure to comply without clear reasoning or warrant. His astute observations and the calculated exchange reveal his background in dealing with high-stress situations, allowing him to navigate the confrontation with careful diplomacy. Meanwhile, a mysterious student's fleeting but knowing glances from across the street catch Jayanth's attention, suggesting a deeper layer of surveillance or signaling at play. As the police car departs, leaving more questions than answers, Jayanth's observant nature picks up on the shifting dynamics around him, signaling a complex weave of connections and the ominous presence of a larger plot. With the situation diffused but his mind awash with concerns, Jayanth decides to move towards a place of significance, hinting at a looming confrontation or revelation tied to his past actions and affiliations.
(Jayanth's odd encounter(SRJanette):SRJanette)
[Sat Mar 29 2025]
In a neatly organised bedroom
This immaculately kept bedroom reflects a perfect combination of a distinguished military career and beloved cultural heritage, exuding a sense of pride, honor, and a deep connection to the occupant's roots.
The walls are painted in a warm, earthy tone, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. Adorning the walls are framed photographs capturing significant moments from time spent in military service, including images of them in uniform, receiving awards, and standing alongside their comrades, serving as a constant reminder of the achievements and sacrifices they made for their country.
A large Indian flag, neatly folded and encased in a glass frame, is prominently displayed on one wall, symbolizing the soldier's patriotism and dedication to their nation. Adjacent to it, a display case showcases numerous medals, badges, and commendations, meticulously arranged in chronological order. Each medal represents a distinct achievement and serves as a testament to bravery and valor on the battlefield.
The bed, positioned against the wall opposite the photographs, is adorned with crisp, neatly arranged sheets and a duvet cover featuring traditional and exhotic patterns. Placed on the bedside table is a small, intricately designed brass lamp, reminiscent of the ones found in many Indian temples, providing a soft, warm glow to the room.
A wooden desk, cluttered with books on military history and strategy, sits obediently to one corner of the room and houses a small brass elephant standing between the piled books. A well-worn leather chair accompanies the desk, indicating countless hours dedicated to study and planning.
A bookshelf lines one wall, filled with a diverse collection of literature, ranging from military memoirs to classic texts, suggesting a intellectual curiosity and desire to continue learning even after retiring from active duty.
In another corner of the room is a small shrine dedicated to family and ancestors, consisting of framed photographs of loved ones along with religious idols and candles, creating a serene space for reflection and gratitude.
It is dawn, about 16F(-8C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Someone has sent the state police after your target. Perhaps they're a real criminal or perhaps they've been framed, in either case it's up to them to get their arrest warrant handled and removed.
)
Its just about dawn, and the streets of Haven are still quiet. The occasional streetlight flickers out, the mist still lingering, and the first few cars pass as the world starts waking up. Jayanth finishes his morning run, his breath still visible in the cool morning air as he slows to a walk, heading toward his favourite caf thats always open this early. Adjusting his jacket before stepping inside, he takes the moment to scan his surroundings. As he proceeds towards the refurbished entrance, the hum of an HSD car catches his attention. Its not unusual for cops to patrol the town at all hours, especially around Havens more... interesting neighborhoods. Maybe a night duty officer on his way in to submit another dry report, or worse: an eventful one. Friday nights were brutal. But something in the air feels different today. He catches snippets of the radio as the officers car slows, approaching the college campus, housing the HSD department. The words are loud enough for Jayanth to hear, but just vague enough to cause unease: "...suspect confirmed, Haven...state-level priority...possible ties to international syndicates..." The officer's window rolls down, a burst of static from the radio, then a voice, slightly distorted, continues with the same message. "...Haven...be on the lookout." As the car drives past, the radio fades out, but not before Jayanth hears something thats clear enough to make him pause for a split second: "ties ot international syndicates..." His eyes narrow, and his mind starts working quickly. He doesnt feel threatened yet, but his instincts are telling him somethings wrong. The reference to international syndicates another encroachment on Haven? Something the Hand would be involved in wouldn't surprise him, but they had their fingers in so many pies it wouldn't even reach the scanners. Probably. He walks up to the caf, keeping an eye out for anything strange as he pushes the door open, the bell above the door jingling. The dark-haired barista nods to him as he enters, expert hands already prepping his usual 'black, no sugar.' "You're the first one in today," she chirps, just as she does every other day he stops by after a run. The place almost always empty this early in the morning. As he waits for his coffee, his phone vibrates in his pocket. The content simple, almost non-sensical even, but one that sends prickles up his spine. The message is clear enough to him. A tiny emoji, a face wearing a pair of shades. Next to it, a stialised D.
Jayanth freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over the counter as a wave of unease washes over him. The text, so cryptic, yet so familiar in its own way, unsettles him. Hes no stranger to messages like this, codes, symbols, fleeting hints, but its been a while since something like this turned up. He taps the screen of his phone, his mind racing as he glances around the caf. The barista is humming to herself, completely oblivious. Did she say something to him? His gaze lingers on her smiling face, too long? She must hear a lot of chatter around here, could she know something? The street outside is still just as quiet, like a lull before the storm. Taking a deep breath, Jayanth shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket, forcing the unease down. He doesnt need to react immediately. He knows that. But this, this feels different. The reference to international syndicates, the faint sense that somethings closing in on him, it gnaws at the edges of his thoughts. Pull yourself together goddamnit. You're overthinking, again. Paranoid fuck "Piss off", he mutters quietly to himself, then shakes his head. He'd learned to ignore that inner voice years ago: the one who insisted he was losing it in one form or another, the one who reminded him that he was inconsequential, unseen, unknown. Dispensable. The one that could, and would, probably get him killed. No. Theres always something, and the fact that this message came now, after hearing those words on the radio, feels like more than coincidence. The barista sets the cup of black coffee in front of him, her bright smile untouched by the tension building inside him. He nods, acknowledging her usual cheerful demeanor, though his mind is elsewhere. Picking up the coffee, he leaves a tip, his hand lingering on the counter for a moment longer than usual, as if debating whether to leave the caf or take a moment to gather his thoughts. Something feels off, but what exactly? The familiar comfort of his morning routine now feels like a mask for the unease in the pit of his stomach. Jayanth leaves the caf, his pace steady but purposeful, his senses alert to every passing car, every shadow in the mist. Theres no immediate threat... yet, but he knows better than to ignore his instincts. He glances down at his phone again. That emoji, the shades he knows who this message is from. But why now? Whats going on?
The street outside is still wrapped in morning mist, the pale glow of dawn stretching long shadows across the pavement. Faint scents of damp earth and lingering coffee eddy around in the cool, crisp morning air. A few cars pass, their headlights cutting through the fog, but nothing about them seems out of place. Normal, quiet. Too quiet... Then, a sound. Faint, just at the edge of Jayanth's hearing. Not the usual early-morning shuffle of a waking town, but something deliberate. A slow, measured footstep on damp concrete.
Not an immediet threat, no, but someone is still watching. For sure someone is watching... Jayanth whips around, ignoring the splash of hot coffee on his jacket sleeve as his free hand dips towards his pocket. "STOP! You're panicking, panic is a rookie's game. Dab that sludge off your hand drink your shit and keep walking." The vague notion that his inner voice took on the note and tone of his friend's only faintly amuses him as he, against his usual judgement, does as he's told. "Suppose there could be worse recollections than Moe's voice when he needed a fix..." Then again, he did just almost shoot a college kid. Maybe he is losing it...
The moment lingersjust long enough for doubt to creep in, just long enough for Jayanth to second-guess the instinct that told him he was being watched. The kid across the street shifts, shoulders hunched, a phone in hand, probably scrolling through some pointless feed. Nothing. Just another student. Except... The wail of sirens shatters the silence like a slej hammer. Short, sharp bursts, not the drawn-out warning of a high-speed chase, but the kind that means someone is about to be stopped. Controlled. Taken in. Blue and red lights flicker through the mist, bouncing off the windows of nearby buildings as a black-and-white state police cruiser rounds the corner. Not Havens Sheriff Departmentthese are outsiders. And they are here for something specific. For someone specific. The cruiser doesnt speed past. It slows. The radio chatter inside crackles, muffled by the rolled-up windows, but Jayanth knows the rhythm of police movement. Two officers inside. The driver speaking into his radio. The passenger shifting, already preparing to step out. They arent drawing weapons. Thats good. It means they want him alive, at least. But alive for what? Then the loudspeaker pops. A voice, firm but not quite aggressive, rolls through the morning air: Jayanth Smith. Place your hands where we can see them.
There it is. The weight of the moment crashing down. They know his name. Jayanth's pulse doesn't slow so much as steady as his training kicks in, the voice in his head that sounds too much like his demonborn friend settling into the cold, quiet eficiency the Asian picked up from the angry young man he would call brother, counting every available exit. "3 cars parked nearby. A narrow alley 2 buildings down, close enough to the park to make pursuit confusing. The mist is still lingering, enough to provide some cover. The college campus is too open, too many eyes and potential casualties if this gets ugly." The officer stepping out is young, maybe a couple of years younger than Jayanth and carrying the confidence that comes with youthful ignorance of one's own limitations, by the way his hand lingers near his holster but doesn't move to draw. "He thinks this is going to be easy."
"State police," the young officer says, as if that wasnt obvious. "We just want to talk." Thats a lie. Or at the very least, not the whole truth. Behind the tinted windshield, the driver stays put, watching. His radio crackles again, a voice on the other end just a little too fast, a little too eager. Backup? A check-in?
The street is waking up now, too slow to be a real problemyet. A car turns the corner up ahead, its headlights cutting through the mist, its driver slowing just a little at the sight of the state trooper parked in an unusual spot. No immediate interference. No cover either.
The street is waking up now, too slow to be a real problem, yet. A car turns the corner up ahead, its headlights cutting through the mist, its driver slowing just a little at the sight of the state trooper parked in an unusual spot. No immediate interference. No cover either. The officer watches Jayanth closely, reading his body language, searching for any sign of a fight-or-flight decision. Hes seen it before, probably rehearsed in a mirror, maybe even drilled in training. "You can make this easy," the cop continues, stepping just a little closer. "No cuffs, no scene. Just a conversation." Hes closing the space, subtly, deliberately. Not so much that it would be aggressive, but enough to make running harder. The car door behind him remains open. The driver inside still hasnt moved. The kid across the street finally looks up from his phone, drawn by the police presence, hesitation in his eyes. A witness. Tch. Then the radio crackles again, this time, just one word. "Confirmed." The driver finally moves, reaching for something. Clipboard? Cuffs? Or something worse?
Jayanth's grip on the coffee cup tightens for just a second before he exhales slowly, controlled. Hes out in the open. No cover. No clear way out that doesn't turn this into a chase or a mess. And that's the last thing he needs. His gaze flicks to the kid across the street, too aware now, phone in hand. A civilian. A witness. That alone is enough to shift his priorities. Jayanth lets his muscles relax, just enough to seem non-threatening. Hands still visible, he lifts his coffee, taking a slow sip. An act of casual defiance, maybe, but also a calculated move. A man about to run doesn't take the time to drink his coffee. He swallows, then finally speaks. His voice is level, edged with just the right amount of curiosity rather than resistance. "State police, huh? Bit early for all this. What's this about?" Keep them talking. Make them explain. Make them commit to a reason before they can control the narrative. If they wanted a quiet pickup, forcing them to lay out their case in public puts them in a tricky spot. His eyes flick briefly to the drivers hands. Clipboard. Not a weapon. Thats something. But whats on that clipboard? A warrant? An order? A misfiled mess of bad intel? The young officer hesitates, just a fraction of a second. Thats a win. Jayanth waits, his expression unreadable, the steam from his coffee curling in the cold morning air. If theyre here on shaky grounds, all he has to do is keep them that way. If they push, he has optionsbut for now, this is a game of patience. And he plays to win.
The young officer shifts his weight, caught between the script he was given and the man standing in front of him. The hesitation isnt much, just a flicker of doubt before he straightens, falling back on procedure. "We have some questions for you, Mr. Smith," he says, the confidence returning to his tone, though not quite as solid as before. "Wed prefer to have this conversation somewhere more... official." He doesn't say under arrest. He doesn't say detained. But the implication lingers in the space between his words. From inside the car, the driver speaks again into the radio, voice low, deliberate. There's no static this time, no distortion. A direct line. Jayanth knows what that means, someone on the other end is waiting for an update. Watching, maybe. This isn't just routine. The young officer lifts his chin slightly. A test of authority. "We can do this easy, or we can make a scene. Up to you." A classic bluff. They don't want a scene, not really. Not with bystanders already watching, not when Haven is the kind of town where people ask questions. The real question is, how much of this is a formality, and how much of it is something worse?
Jayanth doesn't move immediately. Doesn't shift his weight, doesn't tense up, just keeps his breath even, his expression carefully neutral. A fraction of a second to process, to let the officer's words hang between them. Then, with the same steady control, he speaks. "What kind of questions?" Not aggressive, not defensive. Just measured. A simple request for clarity. His gaze flicks to the radio inside the cruiser, then back to the officer's face. Reading him. Watching for the slightest tell. The way the kid squares his shoulders, like he thinks authority alone is enough to make someone comply. The way his fingers twitch slightly near his belt, like he's reminding himself not to reach for his weapon. They don't have enough to bring him in by force. Not yet. So why are they here? What exactly do they think they have?
The young officer's jaw tightens, just for a second. He wasnt expecting pushback, not even real pushback, just the simple act of not immediately complying. That hesitation, that brief flicker of uncertainty, is all Jayanth needs to confirm what he already suspects. This guy isn't in control. The driver is still in the cruiser, watching through the windshield. His radio crackles again, and this time, the voice is clearer. "Hold position." The officer in front of Jayanth exhales through his nose, as if re-centering himself. "It's just routine questioning." Another lie. He doesn't even believe it himself. "We have reason to believe you might have information regarding certain international activities. We'd appreciate your cooperation." There it is again. International activities. A vague, useless phrase meant to sound official. They're fishing. And if they're fishing, it means they don't have a solid case. Yet. The officer tilts his head slightly, watching for a reaction. "You're not in trouble, Mr. Smith. But refusing to answer a few simple questions would be unfortunate." Not a threat. Not officially. But it has all the weight of one.
Jayanth keeps his stance relaxed, though his mind continues racing. He tilts his head slightly, considering the officers response before replying: "If this is official, I assume you have a warrant?" His tone is calm, almost casual, but the message is clearhes not going anywhere unless they show proper paperwork. "If you just have some questions, Im happy to set up a time to talkwith a lawyer present, of course."
"Why?" the officer snaps, his composure slipping rapidly. He wasn't haulled out here before the sun was done dragging its firy ass over the horizon with just half a cup of coffee that tasts like the cardboard cup it came in just to stand here bantering legalities with this punk with his double phrap...mocha...whatever. "Do you have something to hide, Mr Smith?" Two can play this game. "If you're an innocent man then you can ansewr a few questions, can't you? What's the harm in it?" Movement in the cruiser draws the attention of both men, the driver signaling his partner. Lucky save? Or a new development? More squalking over the radio makes it through the static...static? Far too much that wasn't there before. And is the mist... getting thicker? And where'd that kid go...
Jayanth's gaze sharpens, instinct kicking in as the officer's tone slips into frustration. His mind races, running through every possible reason why the officer would push for an interrogation so aggressively, especially if they don't even have a solid reason for arrest yet. Theres something off about this whole situation, and it's starting to feel like the first shift in a storm. He can feel the officer's words like a tug on the thread of a larger picture, one thats unraveling faster than he would like. "You've got a lot of assumptions, officer," Jayanth says, his voice steady but his mind working overtime, scanning the surroundings for anything that doesn't fit. "But if you're asking if I have something to hide, then the answer is no." He meets the officer's eyes, holding the gaze for a beat before continuing. "But I do have rights. Do you mean to infringe on my rights?"
The officer faulters for a split-second, shifting his glance towards the White Oak campus across the street, sprawling innocently in silent witness to the unfolding scene with an air of unsettling awareness, as if the stones themselves and the woods around them had eyes, and they were fixed on the duo. The younger man flinches at the now unbarible static coming through the radio, his earlier bravado crumbling beneath the weight of whatever is creeping just beyond the surface. Air thickening with tention as he glances back at Jayanth, he swallows nervously and shifts his weight, visibly unsettled by something. "Look man, this isn't personal alright? We've got orders, I'm just doing my job." His eyes dart towards the cruiser for some, any kind of help, then stumbles on when he finds none. The driver, eerily still and intent soley on the radio that's anything but coherant now. "This's been months coming, you should've known someone would catch up. Don't take it out on me cause I just happened to be the grunt, man." His hand, so previously controled now clammy and shaking combs its fingers through his hair, and the officer blinks: like the action itself surprised him. "You're in it big, man. Where ever your boss's name cropps up yours is right there with it, and if it ain't then your description is. Alright? We're not stupid, we know it's you. Whatever money-laundering scam business deal you've got going on, it won't be lasting long. So... so just make this easier for yourself an..." The driver shifts then, leaning forward in his sceat and voice cutting through the tention. "Calm down, Sergeant, we're not here to make a scene. Let's, not stur things up more than we have to." The gesture's subtle, the tone cool: but something's clearly changed, and the static over the radio? Gone. The Sergeant stares back at his partner in clear bemusement, but for the first time through out the encounter opts for silence. He forces a smile when he turns back to give one last look at Jayanth, "Look, it's just a precaution. We don't want any trouble, Smith, and I'm sure neither do you, right? It'd be easier on everyone if you just cooperated, and avoid a whole big mess too."
With a slight, sarcastic grin tugging at the corner of his lips, Jayanth takes a slow sip of his now chilled coffee, savoring the bitterness. He leans back slightly, watching the cop squirm. It's all a little too much to take seriously. "Could you send me that in writing?" he quips casually, his voice dripping with irony as he raises an eyebrow. "I'll be sure to forward it, along with your concerns to my attorney." He takes another sip, trying not to grimace at the lack of its comforting heat. Appearances matter though, at least that's what his 'boss' keeps telling him and in this case, Jayanth is inclined to trust in that litany. His eyes remain fixed on the officer as the tension lingers in the air. There's no immediate threat yet, but things are definitely starting to unravel. The officer's glare in response is sharp, but Jayanth can see the cracks in his composure. The cop knows he's lost ground, and the power dynamic has definitely shifted, even if ever so slightly. After a long, uncomfortable silence, the officer spins on his heel and heads back to the cruiser, not without one last glare. The moment he slides into the driver's seat, the vehicles engine hums to life, and the car begins to roll slowly away. The officers eyes linger on the Asian's for a moment, something between frustration and fear flickering before the car turns the corner, fading into the misty morning. Jayanth exhales, and the familiar comfort of lighting a cigarette helps calm his racing thoughts. The ember flickers, and he watches it burn, his mind already turning over the conversation. A little sarcastic banter never hurt anyone, right? With the tension starting to dissipate, he inhales deeply, the smoke rising into the cool morning air, the fog thickening around him.
The officers words echo in the back of someone mind as the state police cruiser vanishes into the mist, the silence in the street now almost eerie. His senses sharpen once again as the haze of his cigarette drifts into the air, but something feels different now. The tension has only shifted, not disappeared. A flicker of something... danger perhaps, lingers in the back of his mind. The Sergeant's slip-up, the references to people hes connected to, its all tying together. The city feels quieter than before, but the morning's stillness is almost oppressive. The distant sound of sirens fades in and out, the hum of the city carrying just enough of a distant edge to it to keep Jayanth on alert. The street is empty, save for a few early risers, but the sense that someone's watching is still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the next move. As the last few tendrils of smoke from Jayanth's cigarette curl into the cool morning air, something catches his eye across the street. The student, the one with the phone, has reappeared, almost out of nowhere, stepping out from the shadows of a building near the college campus. He glances at Jayanth, his eyes lingering on his watch for a split second, before meeting his gaze with a look thats... knowing. There's an almost imperceptible shift in the young man's posture as he offers a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment of something unsaid, before he disappears once again into the mist, vanishing into the deeper parts of the campus. The former soldier's instincts twitch. Theres something unsettling about that fleeting glance: the look was far too deliberate, far too aware. That student, seemingly just another passerby moments ago, might have had something to do with the sudden shift in atmosphere. The change in the air, the tension from the officers, the radio chatter... Had that kid been in the right place at the right time? Or had he orchestrated this, somehow? Jayanth cant shake the nagging suspicion that there's more to this than meets the eye. He takes one last look at the cryptic text on his phone. The emoji, the stylized D... Its still there, still unreadable, but its enough to gnaw at him. With a sharp breath, he tosses the remainder of the disgusting coffee out and flicks the rose-painted paper cup into the nearest trash can. It's not worth it anymore. His nerves are already too raw, the adrenaline still creeping under his skin. Without a second thought, he starts jogging, his stride purposeful as he heads north, away from the town's center and towards the beach houses. The familiar path, the rhythm of his feet on the pavement, gives him a semblance of control again, but his mind is a blur of questions. What was that kid's role? And how deep does this go? The manor, the place hed been avoiding, the place where Sedlak's influence still looms heavy, it's where answers might lie, even if they're not the ones he wants to hear.
The officers words echo in the back of Jayanth's mind as the state police cruiser vanishes into the mist, the silence in the street now almost eerie. His senses sharpen once again as the haze of his cigarette drifts into the air, but something feels different now. The tension has only shifted, not disappeared. A flicker of something... danger perhaps, lingers in the back of his mind. The Sergeant's slip-up, the references to people hes connected to, its all tying together. The city feels quieter than before, but the morning's stillness is almost oppressive. The distant sound of sirens fades in and out, the hum of the city carrying just enough of a distant edge to it to keep Jayanth on alert. The street is empty, save for a few early risers, but the sense that someone's watching is still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the next move. As the last few tendrils of smoke from Jayanth's cigarette curl into the cool morning air, something catches his eye across the street. The student, the one with the phone, has reappeared, almost out of nowhere, stepping out from the shadows of a building near the college campus. He glances at Jayanth, his eyes lingering on his watch for a split second, before meeting his gaze with a look thats... knowing. There's an almost imperceptible shift in the young man's posture as he offers a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment of something unsaid, before he disappears once again into the mist, vanishing into the deeper parts of the campus. The former soldier's instincts twitch. Theres something unsettling about that fleeting glance: the look was far too deliberate, far too aware. That student, seemingly just another passerby moments ago, might have had something to do with the sudden shift in atmosphere. The change in the air, the tension from the officers, the radio chatter... Had that kid been in the right place at the right time? Or had he orchestrated this, somehow? Jayanth cant shake the nagging suspicion that there's more to this than meets the eye. He takes one last look at the cryptic text on his phone. The emoji, the stylized D... Its still there, still unreadable, but its enough to gnaw at him. With a sharp breath, he tosses the remainder of the disgusting coffee out and flicks the rose-painted paper cup into the nearest trash can. It's not worth it anymore. His nerves are already too raw, the adrenaline still creeping under his skin. Without a second thought, he starts jogging, his stride purposeful as he heads north, away from the town's center and towards the beach houses. The familiar path, the rhythm of his feet on the pavement, gives him a semblance of control again, but his mind is a blur of questions. What was that kid's role? And how deep does this go? The manor, the place hed been avoiding, the place where Sedlak's influence still looms heavy, it's where answers might lie, even if they're not the ones he wants to hear.