The badge was gold. It sat on his chest, a heavy coin of authority, warm against the wool of his shirt. Elias Thorne touched it. He rubbed the surface. It was smooth. It was cold.

He stood in the center of the office. The room was grey. The light was grey. The men around him were grey. They sat in a circle. They watched.

Elias was a captain. He had served for twenty years. He had kept the peace. He had kept the order. He was good at it. He was very good at it.

But the badge felt wrong. It felt heavy. It felt like a stone.

He looked at the mirror on the wall. It was old. It was cracked. A spiderweb fracture ran through the glass. He saw his face. He saw his eyes. They were tired. They were deep.

The men in the circle did not speak. They waited.

Elias looked down. His hands were shaking. He clenched them. He unclenched them.

The badge was gold. It was bright. It was a symbol. It was a promise. It was a lie.

He remembered the night. The rain. The street. The boy. The boy was young. The boy was afraid. The boy was holding a stick. The stick was wood. The stick was hard.

Elias had drawn his gun. The gun was black. The gun was steel. The gun was real.

The boy had dropped the stick. The boy had raised his hands. The boy had screamed. The scream was high. The scream was thin.

Elias had fired. The sound was loud. The sound was final.

The boy had fallen. The boy had not moved. The blood was red. The blood was on the white shirt. The shirt was small.

Elias had stood over him. He had held the gun. He had felt the heat. He had felt the power.

Then the sirens had come. The lights had flashed. Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

The men in the circle shifted in their chairs. They were the board. They were the judges. They were the system.

Elias looked at the mirror again. The crack in the glass seemed to widen. It seemed to move.

He saw the boy in the mirror. The boy was standing there. The boy was looking at him. The boy was not afraid anymore. The boy was angry.

Elias blinked. The boy was gone. Only the reflection remained. Only the captain.

"Captain Thorne," said the man in the center. He wore a dark suit. He wore a white shirt. He wore a red tie. "We are here to discuss the incident."

Elias nodded. He did not speak. He could not speak. His throat was dry. His throat was tight.

"We have the reports," the man said. "We have the footage. We have the testimony."

Elias looked at the badge. It gleamed. It was perfect. It was flawless.

"It was self-defense," the man said. "The weapon was a stick. The proximity was close. The intent was ambiguous."

Elias laughed. It was a dry sound. It was a dead sound.

"A stick," Elias said. "A stick is not a gun."

The man in the center did not move. He did not blink. He looked at his papers. He looked at his pen.

"The law is clear, Captain. The law is absolute."

The law was a wall. The law was a cage. The law was a net.

Elias looked at the other men. They were young. They were fresh. They had not seen the blood. They had not felt the recoil. They had not heard the scream.

They watched him. They judged him. They measured him.

He was a tool. He was a weapon. He was a part of the machine.

When the machine broke, they did not fix it. They discarded it.

Elias looked at the badge again. He reached out. His fingers touched the gold. It was cold. It was hard.

He pulled it from his shirt. The pin scratched his skin. It bled. A drop of red. A drop of life.

He held the badge in his hand. It was small. It was light. It was nothing.

He looked at the mirror. The crack was gone. The glass was whole. The glass was clear.

He saw himself. He saw the captain. He saw the killer.

He saw the boy. The boy was there. The boy was smiling. The boy was holding the stick.

Elias raised the badge. He raised it high.

He looked at the men. They were watching. They were waiting.

He did not throw it. He did not break it.

He put it on the table. It landed with a soft click. It rolled. It stopped.

It was gold. It was bright. It was alone.

Elias stepped back. He unbuttoned his jacket. He took it off. He folded it. He placed it on the chair.

He stood in his white shirt. He stood in his grey trousers. He stood in his black shoes.

He looked at the men. They were silent. They were confused. They were afraid.

He looked at the badge. It shone. It mocked him.

He looked at the mirror. He saw the boy. The boy was reaching out. The boy was offering the stick.

Elias reached out. He touched the glass. He felt the cold. He felt the hard surface.

He closed his eyes. He opened them.

The room was empty. The men were gone. The chair was empty. The table was bare.

Only the badge remained. It sat on the wood. It glowed. It pulsed.

Elias walked to the door. He opened it. He walked out.

The hallway was long. The hallway was dark. The lights were dim.

He walked. He walked. He walked.

He did not look back. He did not stop. He did not turn.

He walked until the door opened. He walked into the night.

The night was cold. The night was wet. The night was empty.

He walked to the river. The river was black. The river was fast. The river was loud.

He stood on the bank. He looked at the water. The water moved. The water flowed. The water took.

He looked at his hands. They were clean. They were empty.

He thought of the boy. He thought of the stick. He thought of the scream.

He thought of the badge. He thought of the gold. He thought of the lie.

He was free. He was empty. He was gone.

He looked at the water one last time. He saw his face. He saw the captain. He saw the boy.

They merged. They blended. They became one.

The water rose. The water came. The water took.

Elias Thorne was gone.

The badge was gone.

The gold was gone.

Only the river remained. Only the night remained. Only the silence remained.

The system worked. The system was clean. The system was perfect.

The badge was lost. It was gone. It was forgotten.

The truth was buried. The truth was deep. The truth was cold.

The men in the office returned to their work. They drank their coffee. They read their files. They stamped their papers.

They did not speak of Elias. They did not speak of the boy. They did not speak of the badge.

They spoke of order. They spoke of law. They spoke of peace.

The office was quiet. The office was clean. The office was safe.

The mirror on the wall was whole. The mirror on the wall was clear. The mirror on the wall was empty.

The light was grey. The light was flat. The light was dead.

The day continued. The week continued. The year continued.

Nothing changed. Nothing mattered. Nothing was real.

The badge was gold. It was a symbol. It was a promise. It was a lie.

It was gone.

It was gone.

It was gone.