It was still somewhat dim outside on this cold February morning. Oliver, Flobian and Nichard were sitting in a poorly lit, messy office, among bookshelves that were crammed with self-help guides, financial advice books and detective novels. Most of them looked brand new.
They were tired. Having just spent the last twenty-four hours searching for their friend Jay, who disappeared the night before, it was a miracle any of them were able to keep their eyes open. They needed rest, and they knew it. The adrenaline that came with misplacing someone dear to you and frantically trying to find them can only carry you so far.
The police were no help, saying that he needed to be missing for a while before they would take it seriously. The staff from the club where they had lost him did not notice anything, which is strange because it was always very hard not to notice Jay once he started partying.
They knew something was up.
A gut feeling.
A tingle in their necks.
That's why they did the only thing they could think of.
They hired the best private investigator they could afford. And that was not much.
Which is precisely why they were sitting in an office barely bigger than a broom closet.
Under a large plaque that read "Agency Cold & Partner - There are NO cold cases", he sat: Leopold Cold.
Leopold Cold was a quiet man. He did not have a beard, or glasses, or any other outstanding features. A twenty-five-year-old with the aura of a fifty-year-old. He was truly an average man. Maybe that was why he was very good at gathering evidence unnoticed, but had trouble putting the puzzle pieces together.
He had just finished watching footage that Nichard had taken with his phone of Jay on the night of his disappearance. His eyes lit up with surprise at the fantastic and physics-defying dance moves he saw.
He took a moment to compose himself.
"Well, I would never call this footage unremarkable, but there is nothing immediately out of the ordinary. I don't recognize anyone I know to have some shady business going on in the crowd, but I will run a detailed analysis on my personal database later. And this was the last time you can confirm that he was in the club?", Cold said while handing the device back to Nichard.
Oliver, a tall young man with a short, well-groomed haircut spoke up. He was the kind of person who had the air of trustworthiness around him. A quiet rock in a storming sea. If you needed to ask someone for directions and saw him in a crowd of a thousand people, you would make sure to ask him first.
"Yeah, this was taken at around 10 p.m. just after we arrived at the club, and Jay was warming up for the night," he said. "Everything after that is a blur. He must have disappeared at some point between that and 4 a.m. We only noticed he was missing when the DJ stopped the music and he wasn't there to start an argument with him."
Cold scribbled on his notepad and looked up. The shadow of his baseball cap, which he always seemed to wear, still kept his face somewhat obscured.
He asked, “Did Jay argue with a lot of people? Did he maybe anger the wrong person?”
This time it was Nichard who spoke up. In contrast to Oliver, Nichard was more of an introverted person. Never someone to cause harm or be impolite to others, but also never someone who approached people by himself. A person with a personality as wide as a pond, but as deep as an ocean.
He spoke: "Well yeah, he did. Jay has a lot of opinions about people, especially late at night. But he is usually more annoying than pissing off. Kinda like a small dog that keeps barking at you. I can't imagine anyone wanting to actually harm him over any of that."
Cold kept writing down notes.
He continued the interview, "Is it possible he left with someone that he, how do the kids say? Hit it off with?"
The last of the three friends spoke up. His eyes were red from crying, and his voice sore from calling out to Jay all over the city.
Flobian was an emotional man. A buddy you knew would sacrifice everything to help you. A man with the will of a non-Newtonian fluid: soft until provoked.
At this moment, a singular purpose was driving him: find his friend Jay. And he would not rest or sleep until he had fulfilled that mission.
He looked at Cold, searching for his eyes beneath the shadow of the baseball cap.
He found them.
He locked on.
Cold froze.
Time stood still.
He could no longer move.
Even his thoughts seemed to stop.
He had never seen a man with such fierceness in his eyes.
They seemed to pierce right into his soul, demanding attention and promising the unbridled fury of the cosmos if it was not given.
He uttered one word.
“No.”
And Cold knew this to be the truth.
It was simply a fact, just like the fact that the Earth revolves around the Sun.
What this man had just said was not merely a statement.
It was law.
Only when Flobian broke his gaze did Cold manage to snap out of it. The moment had passed. In front of him sat not an unspeakably powerful being of pure determination, but a man, weeping in sorrow, about the loss of his friend. This moment would keep Cold awake at night for many years to come.
He gathered himself and continued: "Well, I think I have pretty much everything I need. I will run an analysis on the footage I got from you, and I will be in touch as soon as I have something. You three should go home and get some rest. I know this is an incredibly hard time, but you won't help anyone by collapsing from exhaustion."
Flobian sobbed loudly. Nichard handed him a tissue and spoke to Cold: "I guess you are right. We've been up all night. And if I have one more energy drink I might start shooting lasers out of my dick."
Oliver thanked Cold: "You are the only one taking us seriously. We are putting our trust in you, Cold."
Cold replied: "I will do whatever is in my power to get you your friend back. One way or the other."
The three friends got up and left the office. As Cold closed the door behind him, he looked up at a picture hanging on the wall. It portrayed a man who looked eerily similar to Cold, only older.
He grumbled, "You just watch me! This will finally be the first case that I'll solve!"