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On most occasions, a police officer wandering Seattle's Red-Light District would be incredibly easy to identify. A straight-backed, wide-eyed Washington Heights girl like Hana back in NYC would appear almost laughably out-of-place among the rabble of the slums here; Leticia, however, was a rare exception to this rule. Having spent the majority of her teenage years growing up in East Brooklyn, she did not require effort to blend in with her surroundings in such a place; it just came naturally to her.[break][break]

And so did the diminutive plainclothes officer make her way down one of the many old, crack-laden sidewalks that made up the Red-Light District, a large navy blue hooded rain jacket covering her body down to her knees along with a pair of form-fitting black jeans and black combat boots making up her visible outfit. She moved with promptitude, rain pattering against the thin fabric of her coat as she passed club and corner store after club and corner store, half-lit neon signs at the front windows advertising tobacco, alcohol, cannabis, women, and a litany of other adult-oriented goods both legal and less-than-legal.[break][break]

Once upon a time, the woman might've taken a left into one of these stores on the regular; the all-too-familiar craving of the dull warmth of a cigarette between her lips was incredibly difficult to resist even now as she made her way past. But either way, she could not afford to waste the time. After all, business came before pleasure, and the diminutive plainclothes officer had particularly time-sensitive business to attend to.[break][break]

It was not often that Leticia got to play detective; typically she only came in when a 444 got too hot for your standard patrol officers. That said, with the recent string of murders, most of the units - particularly Forensics and Investigation - had their hands tied, and Leticia, with the recommendation of a certain black-haired Baijiu connoisseur, had been transferred temporarily to assist Investigation with a particular case where her skills were needed - that of the late Dylan O'Connor, personal physician, found dead in his Greenwood home several days back. A clear-cut homicide case, by the looks of it - but for a change, this one had a loose end.[break][break]

The blonde policewoman took another glance at the case file on aforementioned loose end on her phone as she wove through the evening crowds on the way to her destination. A certain Hans Gruber, Jr. Caucasian male, appears about 40 years of age. Large of stature, receding brown hair, mustached but otherwise clean-shaven. Wears a silver chain with a lion pendant, and known to speak with a distinct Central European accent.[break][break]

Forensics had supposedly been able to deduce that this man had been present on the property when the suspected homicide had occurred; it fell upon the Latina to track down and interrogate him alongside another detective on the force whom she had not yet made the acquaintance of - a fellow named Vexton Emblem, a homicide investigations detective who had supposedly transferred from the Detroit Police Department several years back.[break][break]

With a quick back-search, it had appeared this particular individual had previously been arrested for extortion and money-laundering, and had been implicated in a frankly absurd amount of aggravated assault cases over the past three years, typically at bars. What a surprise.[break][break]

Fast forward some, and Leticia had finally been able to track Gruber down to a particular establishment in East Side that the man appeared to frequent. If her suspicions were correct, she and her partner would be able to catch him there and interrogate him at least long enough to get some useful information.[break][break]

And, if he resisted, well, she had a search warrant and a taser, so suffice to say she could back her words up.[break][break]

The bar where Leticia had triangulated the man's location was a humble little establishment on the corner of Hyacinth and Austin Street known as the White Hyacinth, a place the blonde-haired Latina vaguely recalled visiting several months back along with Mason on some or the other late-night bar crawl. She stood at the entrance to the alleyway outside the bar; all that was left was to wait for this Detective Emblem to show up.[break][break]

"Buenaventura to CT, 10-2, standing by for rendezvous. How copy?"[break][break]

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Tags: Vexton Emblem