Law Enforcement in Gangland (Closed)

"You’re going to get in too deep, Tash. This isn’t the kind of guys we used to hang with at school; Rizz’s boys are dangerous, you’re just a piece of meat to them. A way for getting them more cash.” Tyron warned. He was her oldest friend; they were on the exact same boat in terms of affluence and lifestyle. Both lived in Maryvale on the Westside of Phoenix; the area had been plagued with gang violence since Tash could remember and although she had stayed out of it for most of her adult life, the alternative was not working out either. She was attempting to support herself, her grandmother and younger brother, both of which had managed to move to the outskirts of the area and away from the complex the 22 year old has resided in her whole life.

“I know, do you think I’ve not thought about this?” She sighed, blowing a cone of thick fragrant smoke into the room as she did. “Every kid in this block deals weed and you know crack heads don’t give a shit about the quality of our stuff. No bod gives a shit about quality. Nobody gives a shit about anything here.”

“Apart from getting high and making money, a combination that’s going to get you in a lot of trouble if you start working for Rizz and I can’t protect you, not against them.”

Tash nodded, looking around her tiny apartment. It wasn’t pretty, the kitchen had not been decorated since the 70’s, reflective of the orange and yellow floral pattern that plagued the walls. In a nice apartment in a nice city, such a design would have been deemed trendy and retro, but not here. Not in The Vic. Nonetheless, Tash kept her space tidy and clean. The living area’s worn sofa was covered in a patterned Mexican blanket and her bookshelf was arranged neatly, displaying her love of literature. Born into different circumstances the girl used to fantasise about what her life would have been like. Not anymore though, she was hardened to her environment, indifferent to it, almost accepting of it, but not quite. “I need out though. We both do. This place, this neighbourhood, its poison. The only way to get out is money and if I drive for Rizz for six months- a year tops, I can do that.” She could get a bit more money too on accounts of her ethnicity, not that her and Tyron spoke of this too much. In this kind of place having a Caucasian girl was beneficial.

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She knew driving would entail more than just that, however, this wasn’t exactly what Tash signed up for she thought to herself as she looked down at the middle aged Asian man who lay at her feet. The side of his slender face was swelling up and darkening in colour as a result of her punching him in the temple with surprising force, followed by driving her knee into his crotch before pistol whipping him between the shoulder blades. “Just lie there and stay the FUCK down!” She growled at him as she pointed her hand gun down at his head. The young woman hoped to God he couldn’t see the unsteadiness of her grip or hear it in her voice. Tash kept glancing back to the kiosk of the shop where two guys she had met this morning were emptying the till. She was surprised at the calibre of comrades she had been teamed up with- they were useless. “Would you get a fucking move on,” Tash sighed watching the taller of the two punch the till several times. “The No Sale button, push that one.” She shouted, starting to panic; someone was bound to come in soon. The till sprang open and the shorter fatter of the two whooped loudly as he bundled the noted into a plastic bag along with as many packs of cigarettes as they could grab.

“Let’s bounce.” Tash nodded moving away from the shopkeeper who was slipping in and out on consciousness before grabbing several bottles of Jack Daniels from the shelf and turning back to the man once last time, “Just lay there, you call the cops and we’ll be back for you! I swear to fuck we will!!” Slipping her handgun down the back of her jeans, its metal cool against her moist lower back, she ran towards the beat up Mustang situated in the dusty car park.

Getting in, her hands shakily attempted to get the key into the ignition, resulting in it taking her several moments to start the car. It was hot, too hot, probably over 105 and the steering wheel burnt her hands as she took off out of the car park; not that she cared, she just wanted out and away from the scene. Sitting in silence, the 22 year old drove the two boys through the West side of the city, most of the area was rough, however as they got closer to The Den; an older garage about 10 minutes from Tash’s apartment, the poverty was rife: boarded up shops and Meth heads plagued the deserted streets.

“You did good, for a Chika.” One of the boys said as he got out the car, tossing her a pack of cigarettes. Tash reacted quickly, her toned, ink clad left arm flexing to catch the packet whilst murmuring a thank you in his direction. She was nervous and was more grateful for the cigarettes than the complement.

Upon entering the garage the three were ushered through to the back office. One of the boys tossed the plastic bag of money on the table. It wasn’t much- a thousand tops. But this wasn’t about the money, this was about shitting on someone else’s territory. It was only when the money spilled out onto the Plywood desk that the Hispanic boy looked up from magazine he was reading. He was about ages with Tash, but fighting and bad tattoos had clearly tarnished his appearance. He spoke to the two men for several minutes, their fast gang speak would not be easily decerned by the average person, but Tash, who they were yet to acknowledge, understood perfectly. “And her, did she fuck up?”

“She was OK, Boss.” OK?! Tash thought, they couldn’t have opened that fucking till if it hadn’t been for her.

Rising from his chair, the ‘Boss’- probably only a couple of hierarchical levels above the drivers moved towards Tash. He looked her up and down appreciatively. She was, after all, quite attractive; standing at just over 5 foot 7, a large proportion of her height being attributed to her long toned legs. Which were currently on display- she had planned on wearing jeans, however it was just far too hot, so instead she sported a pair of dusty denim shorts which sat a good few inches above her knee. Physically, Tash was very fit; she had learned from a young age to run, and run fast as well being well versed in kickboxing; this attributed to her carrying little excess weight.

“Were you scared? When you went into the shop?” He asked, looking into her deep dark eyes, not in a romantic sense, he was looking to see if she was lying.

“No.” She lied.

“Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy hitting some asshole with a business? With a way to make a living?”

She hesitated, before being honest. “Not particularly.”

He nodded, “Ok, did you enjoy anything about it?”

“I enjoyed getting one over on Eion. Those Eastern faggots have no business coming to Maryvale. I enjoyed telling them that. I want to do it again.” She snarled.

“Good girl. That was a big complement, Rich paid you. OK, that’s good. Real good. We need a white girl that’s not going to pussy out. Keep the gun- I’ll be in touch.” He smirked, handing her a wad of cash. Tash knew there was over $500 in her hand and she was happy. Turning to leave, the boy grabbed the scruff of her loosely fitting black tank top. “Don’t think this is going to be easy.” He hissed in her ear before pushing her away from him.
__________________
"I can see you stalking like a predator,
I’ve been here before.
Temptation calls like Adam to the apple,
But I will not be caught.
Cause I can read those velvet eyes,
And all I see is lies."

Grace Walker sat at her kitchen table, silently taking apart her service pistol and cleaning it. It was late at night, when most people were sound asleep and dreaming pleasant dreams. Not Grace, she preferred the night and the welcoming darkness. Despite the sun having set some time ago, the temperature was still in the mid 80’s, that was Phoenix for you. Grace liked the night, how quiet it was without the hustle and bustle of daily life. She could sit quietly and think, which she was oft prone of doing with her off time, with little to no distraction from the outside world. She had few duties outside her job, with next to no social life and friends, no pets and no family to speak of, Grace was all on her own. She preferred it that way, really, life was easier without the nasty little strings tugging you every which way.

Grace was a Detective for the Phoenix Police Department. Currently she was part of the Narcotics and Organized Crime division. She was the rookie of the department, though she was far from a rookie cop. Grace had worked her way up to her current position the hard way, clawing for every scrap of respect that she could with tooth and nail. It had never been easy for her, not in life or in her chosen career. Never could she have been described as a social person, she didn’t play nice with others and rarely made friends. She proved that much since day one when she enrolled in the academy. Back then she was just a skinny girl with dreams of a better life on the other side of the police tape. She soared through the academy at top of her class and got her badge shortly thereafter. It hadn’t been easy, but she knew that going into it. There wasn’t a day that went by that Grace didn’t have to prove herself, if not to her fellow cops than to some shithead perp on the street. It didn’t help that Grace Walker had a pretty face. She topped out at five foot six inches in boots; her frame was svelte and athletic with subtle, sleek curves. It was easy to hide her figure under her suit, the fact she decided to wear a tie only made it more awkward at times when people couldn’t decide if she was a pretty guy or an androgynous dike.

That pretty face wore a hard and stoic mask more often than not, though it wasn’t to cover up a hurt and delicate soul crying out for attention. After a hard life of constantly pushing herself, Grace was pretty much numb to the world. She found it hard to care, at least when she wasn’t wearing her badge. She didn’t know her neighbors and didn’t care to. She didn’t keep up to date on what she ate through social media; hell she barely knew how to work her smart phone nowadays. All in all she was a rather apathetic creature, dulled to the pain of the world by her own hardships. The only thing that made it worth getting up in the mornings was the chance to do something good, even if it was just tossing another asshat in the drunk tank for a night. Her apathetic nature and desire to do good were constantly at odds, the fact she was that hypocritical wasn’t lost on her.

Grace sat at her kitchen table in a pair of shorts and tank top, both black and without logos or tags. Spread across the wooden dinner table on a towel was her service pistol, taken apart piece by piece so that she could give it a thorough cleaning. Other than the sounds of plastic and metal scraping against one another and the brush raking against numerous parts, Grace didn’t make a sound. There was no music playing in the background or the mind numbing blare of a television set. She sat in perfect silence, her sapphire gaze lingering intently upon her work. Grace’s hair was cropped boyishly short and at the moment was without style. It hung limply to one side, bangs tickling at her temple as she lightly moved. Her skin was deathly pale, made all the more white in the dim light from the halogen bulbs. She wore that typical expressionless mask on her features, her lips pressed tightly together in a line. It was just another night with nothing to do, just the way that Grace preferred it.

Her apartment was nice enough, even with the Spartan furnishings. She had a dinner table with two chairs, a stool at the bar separating the kitchen from the living room, which had a small couch and coffee table. An ancient TV set sat on a plastic box, which presently was covered in dust. The only other furnishings of note were the numerous bookcases lining the walls. All manner of books filled them, technical manuals, magazines, thick law tomes and novels of all genres. The only thing that Grace enjoyed than peace and quiet was reading, disappearing into another world entirely and forgetting just how shitty the real world could be. That was on the bill for tonight, a thick paperback in her hands till she finally lost the battle and passed out. Just another day in Grace Walker’s life. Ain’t it grand?


It was one of Grace’s better nights. She was working the night shift, thankfully, so she was in her element. She preferred the night, especially while working. The world just looked differently under the glare of the street lamps, somehow more mystical and different. She preferred it to the glaring truth of the day, under the brutal and unrelenting heat. The night so far had been nothing spectacular, but that was the life of a peace officer more often than not. She had done paperwork until her eyes crossed and decided to disappear for a few hours to get some food in her and just space out. That was the beauty of working nights too, no one cared about a two hour lunch break, especially with no active cases on their plate. Grace was basically waiting for her phone to ring, so why not stare at it with a cup of coffee and some greasy fried eggs?

She found herself at her favorite diner. It was her favorite because it was the only one open at this hour and was never busy. She could sit in a booth in the far back and be left undisturbed for hours. She sat and nursed a cup of coffee, a plate covered in syrup and egg sitting a foot to her side. Her phone and radio sat beside it as well, the crackling chatter the only other noise besides the kitchen and the occasional clink of utensils on plates. Grace sat with one arm crossed over the table, her blue tie dangling against her forearm. Her other arm sat with its elbow planted against the table, her hand busily snatching up creamer cups and daintily stacking them into crude pyramids. It wasn’t exactly interesting or difficult, but it passed the time as she watched lights of cars flash past and the changing of traffic lights. Just about an hour into her lunch she heard the familiar call for assistance; she heard the code for drunken disturbances and possible illegal drugs. It was normally something the beat cops would handle, but from the description it sounded like a big party going on. No one would complain about another cop there to help keep the mob in control. Grace snatched up her gear, holstered her radio and pocketed her cellphone. She checked the rest of her gear before tossing a twenty onto the table and thanking the waitress as she hurried off towards the door. She slid into the driver’s seat of her car and called out on the radio that she was in route as well. If anything it might prove to be interesting, but no cop really wanted interesting. They wanted boring and predictable; boring and predictable meant that you would go home at the end of your shift. Grace couldn’t help but ponder that thought as she sped off for the bad part of town, speeding through the empty and dark streets quickly.

Tash exhaled deeply as she returned to her apartment. For that moment she loved everything about her space: the shitty cooker that didn't work, the uncomfortable sofa, hell even the junkies who sat on her front step seemed nice compare to what she had just encountered. Shakily, she poured herself a large measure of Jack and looked out the living room window. No one seemed to have followed her, no cops, no gang members, no one. She felt the wad of cash in her back pocket for the umpteenth time- it was still there. No one had stolen it and apart from her new colleagues no one knew she had it. It was safe. She was safe.

Knocking back the amber liquid the tall brunette shuddered, "Fuckin' hell." She muttered to the empty space and then froze. Heavy footsteps on the landing outside were causing the kitchen utensils hanging on the wall to shake slightly. However, the commotion bypassed her front door and continued on to the floors above. Well, I'm just going to have to get used to looking over my shoulder, she thought to herself.

Pouring herself another drink the 22 year old set to dealing with the hand gun and cash she had acquired that day. She had no real interest in the weapon and didn't take anytime examining it or otherwise. Moving into her bedroom, she took an old tin box from under her bed and placed the cold black piece within it before quickly shutting the lid and returning the container to the hidden darkness.

Next was to deal with the cash; she returned to her living space, polishing off the JD as she went and moved to a shelf of books. Hidden within the small library was another locked box in which she stored the cash. It was added to an existing fund, which was mounting up. She made a mental note to travel across the city to her Grandmother's tomorrow and drop off a set amount.

The liqueur had started to take effect and the young woman began to relax. Today wasn't all bad, yeah hitting the guy hadn't been very nice, but Tash was sure he'd be ok- she had taken worse and bounced back. She switched on the radio and set to roll herself a joint. As she did so,the girl did some finances in her head, maybe if she saved the majority she could treat herself to something. A good pair of running shoes would be good, maybe a- But her relaxing train of thought was cut off by a loud rap at the door. Letting out an audible curse, both in fright and the fact that a good gram's worth of Purple Haze had went flying, she sat in silence. The knock came again, holding her breath she slowly rose from the sofa, silently moving, almost cat like, towards the door. Picking a large kitchen knife off the counter she reached the door.

"Tash, if you're in there, please open the door!" At this the brunette sighed with relief. She set the knife back down on the counter and opened the door to her best friend. She was, however shocked to see him in such a state. "Answer your fucking phone!" He snapped before crossing the threshold and embracing her. She hugged him back, tight.

"Hey, I'm fine. I'm here." She drew away from their embrace, mentally kicking herself. "I'm sorry I just got caught up in the job, and I was just so hell bent on getting away from The Den and the people I totally lost track of time and haven't turned my phone on. I'm sorry!" She hugged him again, suddenly aware of how nice it felt not be alone, to have a confidant, an outlet.

"I thought you had been arrested.... or worse!" He crocked. Tyron was right, any number of things could have happened to her- caught by the police, caught by a rival gang, turned on by Rich's guys. Tash shuddered thinking about it; she was lucky to be alright.

The two sat together smoking whilst, Tash told Tyron about every detail of her day. When she had finished they sat in silence for a moment. Finally the tall black boy spoke, "Sounds like it went as well as you could have hoped. I'm glad you're safe, but don't ever get complacent. Don't ever trust them."

Tash promised she wouldn't and two moved away from the subject of gang wars and passed the time discussing other things; there were always new stories from The Vic. Without fail there was always an arrest, a murder, a woman being attacked or a drug bust. To reflect these cheery subjects, the two quickly found themselves slipping into an alcohol and drug induced depression.

"Right! Enough of this!" Tash said, standing up and swaying slightly. "It's getting late, it's Friday night, I'm alive, we should celebrate! What do you wanna do?"

"True, dat sista." Tyron mimicked in a high pitched voice. "There's a party up in Block 68, a bit of a hiphop showdown thing. I vote, put some decent music on, finish the jack and head over." Tash raised her ink clad arm to vote in favour of the plan. "The motion passes- we party!!"

It was around midnight by the time they reached the 12th floor of the tower block, however, you could hear and smell the party long before walking through the door. The apartment was larger than Tash's- at a least three bedroom and rented by a few guys that she had gone to high school with.

"Hey Bitch! Where you been hidin'?"

"Hi Zara!" Tash smiled. "How's it going? Good party?"

The two girls embraced. "Yeah, it's alright." The tattooed Hispanic youth replied. "There's a some quality Base- Ken's selling."

"Cool. Thanks. Trying to quit, you know how it is." Tash replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. She had never been a full blown addict, or so she told herself it was just recreational. But it was difficult to be surrounded by the stuff, bored and a bit down, not partake for a bit of a lift. Nonetheless, the young woman tried her best to ignore the hedonistic atmosphere, enjoy the drink she had brought and listen to the guys who were battle rhyming in the living room.

As the night continued, the music got louder, the drugs got harder and alcohol continued to flow. A sound system had been set up on the balcony and a bunch of people had started to complain about the noise, but it was at that time in the early morning where neighbours complaining just seems like a big joke- something to be proud of.

Tyrone was in one of the bedrooms with some girl- he had made her promise to come get him if she was going to leave, to which Tash had slurred, "For sure, I'll just come and tap you on the shoulder whilst you're balls deep!" Before doing a corny fist pump and leaving him to enjoy himself. "C'mon, girl. It your turn up there. On the sofa. Get up." One of the guys, Kendrick, who lived in the flat had grabbed the lean young woman by the hips and guided her up onto the sofa. "M'on, Tash. Let us make fun of you're sexy white as trying to be street. I wanna fucking battle you." He smirked, handing her a bottle of tequila- for Dutch courage.

"Fuck you!" She smiled, taking a swig of the cheap spirit and picking up the mic. "You want me to show y'all how it's done?"

He smiled, standing up on the battered sofa with her. Mic in one hand crack pipe in the other. He offered it to Tash who hesitated but accepted it. Inhaling the illegal next are once, twice, three times, she smiled. Time stood still and for that moment she had never and would never be happier. The familiar kick followed- and the two youths, high as kites and drunk off their asses spouted impromptu lyrics at each other, with the accompaniment of a heavy beat in the background.

Between the drink, drugs and loud music most revellers were unaware of any commotion going on out in the hall; something had kicked off. But like most of those within the apartment Tash and Kendrick had no idea and continued their fun. It wasn't until the cops had entered the apartment that panic ensued, but Tash who was completely in the moment responses to Her opponents latest verse with, "Yeah, you better listen to exactly what's going on. Pigs out in this motherfucker do whatever they want, whenever they want. Robbing, killing, raping, you name it, they done it. And still do that. So next time you feel like you safe in the community..." She stopped, seeing the anger and shock on people's faces. Turning around she saw exactly what they were so pissed about. Quickly, people were wither scattering or kicking off that their fun had been disturbed.

"What the fuck y'all doing here?! You are breaking an entry! This is my fucking house. Get the fuck out." Kendrick, bounced off the sofa, getting right in the face of a young cop who promptly took out a batton."

"Think again." Tash muttered to herself before stepping down from the sofa.

There were plenty of individuals causing a scene for her to alert, Tyron and slip out quietly, or so she thought

The ribbed wheels of Grace's car crunched over the gravel at the edge of one of the parking lots connected to the apartment complex near block 86. Even from here she saw the flaring red blue of police lights and the general chaos that the sight brought with it. The call came out on the radio shortly after put it into park and snatched up her radio. She flung the car door open and stepped out in one fluid motion, a sweep of raven bangs danced across her brow and hung partially above those piercing blue eyes. She scanned the scene from her vantage point, taking in the scene as it unfolded. People were pouring out past the police cruisers, disappearing into the darkness with the tact and grace of a herd of cattle. Grace watched with her typical passive mask, unmoved by any of it as she made her way forward at a purposeful gait. The thick belt that her gun holster hung off of clung tightly to the subtle swell of her hips, the general nature of her svelte build made it look all the more prominent. She had left her jacket in the car, it was a hot night and her dress shirt was already feeling heavy and sticky against her torso and arms. The silver shield flashed from its place dangling from the metal chain about her slender neck, jostling above the minor swell of her bosom. She wasn't the most intimidating sight, at least physically. That cold stare could put the fear into someone if she stared hard enough, it was hard to tell if she had an incredible poker face or was just really dead inside.

Grace flashed those bright blue eyes at the fleeing civilians, making no move to stop the few that barreled past her. As she approached the stench of the place hit her, it was a cloying mixture of acrid smoke, body order, spilled beer and piss. The scent was familiar if not a little welcoming, offering a focus that Grace could rely in as she slipped into professional mode. This area was pretty familiar to the young detective, Narcotics and Organized Crime was always trying to make headway here, overtly or otherwise. Normally Grace might have dressed more low key, but she wasn't expecting to do any field work today, unfortunately. Her dress shoes clicked lightly against the asphalt and concrete as she came upon the tall building. She passed a few officers trying to stem the chaos, some had perps on the ground, others were just trying to keep the peace. Those blue pools swept about silently taking in the scene, scoping it out for anything of interest beyond the typical disurbing the peace.

One young cop took notice, a familiar face of a certain Sergeant that Grace tried to keep her distance from. She had no issue with him besides the fact he obviously had a thing for her. He was all smiles and compliments, far from slimy or creepy but the last thing Grace needed or wanted was a relationship. Sexuality had and would probably always be a touchy subject with her as well, not that anyone would know (She'd be the last one to bring it up). When she looked upon the tall, handsome man in his uniform, close cut hair and chiseled jaw she felt absolutely nothing. Men in general had never done much for her though women weren't that far behind either. It was odd, or so Grace had come to think, but it had always been that way so she hadn't ever given it much thought.

“You might want to hoof it to the 12th floor, Detective.” Sergeant Hicks said with his typical smile. Grace didn't offer one in return, but that wasn't out of place. She rarely smiled and if she did it was often forced, devoid of any true emotion. She did offer a nod of recognition before she set her gaze up the side of the building for a brief moment.

“Drugs?” She asked pointedly, her voice low yet easily pierced through the din of the chaos around them. Hicks nodded and his smile widened as if he were trying to keep a secret in and failing miserably.

“Right up you're alley, Walker.” He said in far too familiar tone. For a brief moment those slender black brows narrowed above her gaze and Hicks instantly knew he over-stepped his bounds. It didn't take much to set Grace off, despite that passive outward appearance there was an inferno smoldering just underneath. It was rare for her to lash out at her fellow cops, suspects though...

“Right.” Was all Grace said before she moved past him, her right shoulder catching his own and clipping it as she passed. Without another word Grace made her way to the main stairwell of the building and rapidly ascended the stairs. It didn't take her long to find the apartment where the party had originated from, or at least the source of the commotion. Officers lined the hallways and popped in and out of other apartment doors, some with suspects already hand-cuffed or questioning others. Grace passed them all with just a side-long glance, taking in what she could and finding nothing of import. Her attention finally settled upon the open door of the large apartment, her svelte frame slid silently over the threshold. She had missed the fun it seemed, the evidence of a scuffle and the scent of sweat and blood hung thick in the air. Grace saw a young man on the ground with his arms cuffed behind him, a knee of an officer planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

Put resisting arrest down with possession of illegal substances, disturbing the peace, maybe even serving alcohol to a minor...Grace mused over the multitude of charges as she sauntered about, her gaze falling upon the open containers of alcohol and numerous ashtrays. She saw more drug paraphernalia as she moved about, hints of cocaine and meth. What a party. That was when something out of the norm caught her attention, causing those blue eyes to flicker up can catch sight of...a white girl? Grace felt herself doing a double take, it was just a fleeting glimpse, the sensation like she had seen a ghost leaving an impression on her mind. Without thinking about it she followed after, finding herself down a hallway and into a cramped bedroom with an opened window. Grace stalked towards the window, not before she scoped out the room for possible threats of course. Cautiously she poked her head outside and looked around, only to catch a glimpse of her white whale...er...white chick. Grace placed both hands on the window sill and climbed out through the window, just as the others had done before her. Her feet hit the hard concrete of an outside passageway, no doubt leading around the building or even to another one. Grace was out and moving with deft quickness only a lithesome build like hers could afford. She hurried after the girl for no good reason other than she stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hey!” Grace called out as she rounded another corner, catching sight of the tall brunette. She could make out numerous tattoos now, something she hadn't expected. Her first instinct was that this girl was just slumming it, a pretty white girl looking to have some fun and get high. Perhaps she was even a prostitute looking for a fix and paying with ass, happened all the time. But as Grace drew closer she found none of those things. No, she wasn't looking at someone out of place, the way she moved, the hard gait and the general posture denoted that this girl wasn't a fragile little flower. If anything she had the look of a hardened thug about her, something in her eyes and face that gave it away.

“You two. Stop.” Grace said as she approached, her tone leaving little room for doubt that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Her right hand causally came to rest at her side, dangerously close to the holstered pistol. She wasn't going to take any chances, even if her instincts had sent her off course the training of her career was hardwired into her. She didn't so much as think about where her hand fell, even as the other moved up and grasped the silver badge in its black leather case dangling from her neck.

“Where are you rushing off to? Red and blue not your colors?” She asked in the same cool, confident tone that held a certain edge of authority. Grace was the one out of place, in her business clothes, fancy shoes and sharp, pretty face. But no one could tell that from the way she held herself, she moved down the passageway as if she belonged there. It was easy to feel that sense of privilege when you were a cop, walking into places you would otherwise have no busy venturing into it. Grace had that confidence in spades, the hard facade wasn't going to crack for a few low life thugs trying to flee the scene. Even if they were tall pretty brunettes with intense eyes. Grace saw something in them, something far too familiar for her own good. She held up her badge a little higher just to make sure both of them saw it and fully understood who they were dealing with.

“Leaving your buddies to take all the heat?” She added as her gaze swept between the two, scoping them out in equal measure. “I’m sure you two aren’t the types. Though you look like a runner…”

Grace’s gaze narrowed ever so lightly upon Tyron, sizing him up and taking a step forward.