The officer kept to himself.

His posture was probably the most important part of his job, or as close to a job as anyone on the surface truly has. His silhouette is defined by broad shoulders, above average height, and imposing build- a shadow that stretched down the golden streets of the marketplace as he patrolled. Much like his shadow, his area of influence was also far-reaching, bringing with it hushed volumes and no small amount of intimidation. He seemed to emanate an aura of order and law.

His role was entirely meaningless, but it meant no one talked to him, as he preferred.

This was the surface- where tanned feet walk in cleaned streets. Disputes between citizens were settled on chess boards, not with fists, and their minds were sharper than any blade to be found. Merchants and inventors traded services and goods, not coins. There was no theft, and nothing to gain from it if you did. The officer had seen harsher times in his youth, where his role was invaluable and folks needed protecting. It was this memory that still lingered in enough hearts for his position to exist at all, but it was just that- a clumsy memory of a time long past.

Sometimes he would try to listen in on the citizens' conversations, as the surface folk have little else to do as they feast upon the sun's warm rays. Sometimes he would even learn a thing or two- they are all geniuses in their own ways, be it science, mathematics, engineering, or in the officer's case, a good memory. Though most of their jargon was esoteric, he knew how to parrot it to sound wise when confronted. Which, quite fortunately, was very rare.

His facade was rewarded with good housing and free light. He did his best to avoid developing the usual dependencies of the surface people, spending most of his shift several floors down, where only narrow columns of gold slip around the structures. He knew his time was coming, when he would be revealed as the second class citizen he truly was, and would have to find a more befitting line of work.

A piercing shriek down the road ensured that today would most certainly not be that day.

Donning a more serious expression, he charged towards the source of the kerfuffle. It was distant, but he knew exactly where to look. Weaving around the back sides of buildings, down some steps, until he arrived as his destination. A younger looking woman was poised in fear, pointing under the bridge. An alien whirl of dated machinery confirmed his suspicion- a skulker had made its way up.

He broke into a brisk chase, which eased the nearby citizens, following the creature down the narrow spirals of the lower buildings. He could easily have outrun the creature, but there was no danger here. After a convincing pursuit had brought them deep into the city chasms, he called out towards it with in a tongue he barely recalled. The officer hoped he hadn't insulted it. The skulker came to a mechanical stop and turned around with a very interested expression.

It slowly crept back towards the officer. He identified it as male, young- probably just over 20 years old, maybe less but from a rougher sector. Both legs and one arm had already been replaced, fused seamlessly with its ghostly white skin that was turning rose in some places. He had seen this many times before- burned after only a minute or so in the light. Curiosity seemed to be the culprit, which was a relief.

At least they aren't going hungry down there.