Clive hopped in the car with Camden, after throwing his effects in the back, just two suitcases, and a laptop bag. Camden spoke after Clive sat in the passenger’s seat “packing light” Clive Glanced back unconsciously and spoke with an unfocused tone.“I don’t need much” Clive found what he really valued that when he lost everything he truly cared about, a person often finds out that most of that consisted of things you couldn’t care less about Packed a weeks’ worth of clothes and a few items with sentimental value. After a few hours of silence only broken by the pattering of raindrops, Camden spoke up “do you want to talk about it” Clive looked dazed for a moment before turning to Camden “About what" Camden kept his eyes on the road and spoke frankly “That shiner of yours". Clive sighed and locked his fingers together while resting his forehead on them “A difference in opinions, don’t worry about it” There was a screeching of breaks and Camden looked at Clive before sighing “Kid I do worry about it, no matter what you’re still my nephew.“ Camden continued speaking he asked a pointed but ultimately rhetorical question “let me ask you something, who do you think told me about the funeral.”

Clive had assumed that Camden was notified but come to think of it he was a pariah on both sides and appeared to show up uninvited. “I never really thought about it, I assume it was Derick now that you mentioned it” Camden chuckled “close but no cigar, it was his mother, she also forbid him from going personally” Clive seemed surprised for a moment but the shock quickly passed, and he pointed out the main contridiction “But dropping me off was-”.

Camden Cut Clive off “all he was allowed to do, Lyra has a soft soul but a stern heart, you saw what it was like there.” Clive sighed “True, and I should have known” Clive continued with a grimace “she really hates Hippocrates, hates her son being around them even more”. Derrick’s mom, Lyra was like an aunt to Clive after his mom died, she had a lot of love to go around but it was tough love. No doubt she was where derrick’s headstrong and outgoing personality came from. Camden spoke up derailing Clive's train of thought “why don’t you give them a call when we get back”. Clive protested briefly but understood that his uncle was right “That’s- , no perhaps you’re right.” The ride was silent the rest of the way. It ended with the sound of tires over loose gravel, that sandy grinding sound that always seems to signal the end of a long trip.

They got out of the car and Camden handed Clive a cigarette and said his piece. “it's fine to honor the dead, just don’t forget about the living, Give those two a call in the morning tell them I said hi”.Clive puased for a moment before speaking"Alright". The house was unlit, but the lights hummed to life quietly with a soft buzz. the house was quiet but had a certain warmth to it, it was a place that could best be described as "lived in" Clive brought his bags to the room where Camden directed him, the room only contained a simple bed and lacked much anything other than a few filing cabnets, a desk, the bed, and a small lamp. It wasn't much but it felt like a home. it was a feeling clive couldn't place, the room wasn't meant for him, but it had been prepared for him. As Clive was mulling over these feelings, it all hit him like a wave, what he had lost what it really meant, and how much he had missed it all, it wasn't a matter of just loosing someone, no it was all the little things that you became accustomed to over the years, where the remote to the television was set, the lingering smell of breakfast that had already been made and consumed, all the little marks that people would leave unconsciously, all the things that added up to what home, family, and love really were. Clive thought he had come to terms with it all but he hadn’t, he hadn’t even come close. The magnitude of what he had lost, of what he had been about to throw away, is it even possible to greive something like that. Life doesn't go on when you lose someone, no, it changes entirely.

Camden was right he needed to call them in the morning, Lyra, Derrick, and John were just as much a family to him as his father and sister were, as for Camden, Clive wasn’t sure what to think yet. He was some uncle who just happened to drop in at the right time and say the things Clive needed to hear. It all felt so, so, deliberate, arranged even, like scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle slowly clicking into place, forming a picture. at the realization, a chill swept over Clive, one that he felt down to his very core.

Clive looked up and felt IT, that sickening feeling of being watched. Like everything in his life was arranged as ENTERTAINMENT for... something. A sinking feeling settled in his gut, there was something out there determined to make it so that he can’t move on. Why dammit, what the hell was watching him, was he paranoid, he had nothing to go on except that primal creeping sensation of dread. If Clive called them, something terrible would happen, he just KNEW that it would, and he had no evidence to back it up either.

Clive had to harden his heart, not only for the sake of the dead but for the sake of the living as well. That night Clive wept not tears of sadness, but ones of anger, of indignation. Being able to reach out for something but being unable to touch it for fear of it breaking, it had to be the most bitter feeling in the world. In a way, it was just as bad as losing everything. The next morning Clive found Camden at the table during breakfast and spoke “I didn’t call them, and I won't be calling them in the future, I won’t explain why but it’s not for whatever reason you might think”

Camden sighed “It looks like I’m going be making some additional arrangements then, and take this, a family heirloom your father entrusted to me” Clive’s uncle put a small ornery chest on the table it was old, and it clearly had a history, Clive opened the box carefully, and inside was an ancient bronze coin on a leather cord, the coin had a square hole and appeared to be Greek, Clive could barely make out what appeared to be a boat on one side, the other side had been rendered illegible with the passage of time.. it appeared to have a symbol on it but it was unclear what. While clive examined the coin Camden stood from his chair causing it to make a rubber like sound as the rubber feet of the chair scraped over tile.“Now with all the formalities out of the way, let's go get you registered". Clive decided to wear the coin around his neck after a moment of thought. if his father wanted him to have it then he should keep it on him to keep a piece of his wishes and history if nothing else.

Camden nodded to Clive after he put the coin on "ready to head out" Clive Shrugged "as I'll ever be"

The place his uncle taught was called Marlowe Technical Institute a fairly unassuming name, but it carried a number a connotations for any fan of mystery and detective fiction.

The school was fairly large, but unassuming, drab red and brown brick buildings behind a tall iron fence, it had that cookie cutter appearance seen often in modern development like a series of one story offices in the business sector of a city or an old shopping strip. it was the kind of place that one could easily pass by snd ignore without a second thought.

The interior of the lobby was largely the same, the cold, cheap looking and speckled industrial tile, cheap drywall with peeling paint, and to top it all off a bored and overweight receptionist. "Mr questions, I see you brought a guest, are you referring a student" Camden Cleared his throat "my nephew" the receptionists posture shifted subtly and she gave a soft, but genuine smile "of course Mr questions we will give him the best treatment, please enter room 3". Camden handed the receptionist some sort of file as Clive entered the room.

Room 3 was for lack of a better word barren, cold tile and a stainless steel table with two iron chairs, simple and unadorned, the flickering incandescent light made the room an exact replica of a typical interrogation room at a police station. Clive sat down, as he heard footsteps from down the hall, the slow deliberate cadance of dress shoes over tile, every step was even and measured. The creak of hinges could be heard as a grim faced man entered the room and spoke. "Mr. Adkins, what brings you to our institution" Clive shrugged before responding "answers, or at least the means to find them" The man simply nodded Before passing Clive some forms and a pen"A satisfactory answer"

The form was a list of courses offered, it said that full time students were to register for a Combat course track, 3 investigative supplements, and of course a core enforcement track that functioned as a major.

The list was extensive, the skillsets and courses offered could train someone to be just about anything be that a private military could ask for, be that a corporate spy or a career soldier with training equivalent to a member in an elite special forces unit. it seemed that there was far more to this school than Clive had initially thought thought but based on what was offered the school trained students for work in government agencies, private armies, and even as spies for hire.

looking through the list Clive took private investigation as his major, and the recommended combat track which was urban CQC (close quarters combat). as for the investigative supplement arson was an obvious pick, after mulling over his options he chose field autopsy a course that specialized in identifying cause of death quickly using mostly observation and noninvasive methods, the lastly he chose to look at toxicology due to his past education in chemistry.

Clive went over the paperwork one more time before passing it over "is that everything." The man on the other side of the table looked over the papers and nodded lightly "this should be fine, we will contact you with the details of your schedule soon. but for now you should purchase the items on this list" the man said as he pulled out his folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. With nothing else to do Clive joined camden in his car.