A morning sprinkle turned into showers, the City of South held hostage beneath the graying skies above.

Covered carriages travel through soaked streets, a dance of umbrellas opened to the world providing a beautiful mirage of operational work and travel across 8th Avenue.

Four Officers step into the world, boots carefully guiding themselves down slick steps and into the crowd below.

Custom tailored dark-blue overcoats arcanely treated against water-infiltration, mildly acidic rain easily washing off their bodies and onto bricks below. A bustle of the living creature not lost on their faces, the microcosm of development holding upon itself a world of its own, sadistic creation.

“First stop, Midtown.” Sergeant Jarka informs her squad as they reach the bottom of the massive staircase. “You guys wanna walk or take a cable car?”

“I’m not walking in this soup.” Underfoot complains immediately, his short stature nearly lost among his much taller compatriots.

Ford begins to open his mouth with a soft question, interrupted by Jarka. “Before you ask; we don't have a carriage. It got set on fire last month and the horses got eaten.”

The regularization of fact, the rookie the sole foreigner within the midst of absurdity before the squad leader corrects herself. “Not in that specific order. I think the horses got eaten and then it was set on fire.”

An even longer silence this time, the woman finishing her informative briefing with a shrug, checking a pocket watch as she makes the calculations. “Either way, we’re without personal transportation for the moment; or at least until the Chief finishes her order. And Pippy, you have the cable car schedule?”

“I forgot it at the office.” The halfling immediately recalls.

The half-orc rookie raises a nervous hand at his own knowledge, knowledge coming to fruition through instinctiveness. “T-there’s a cable car coming to 8th avenue s-station soon. I think…”

“The nine fifty train?” Underfoot recalls, pursuing through his own intelligence. “I think you’re right. It goes to Midtown Central right?”

“Y-yes sir.”

Jarka chuckles to herself as she acknowledges the pair, words in actualization of a complement hidden beneath the light joke. “I guess the Chief made the right decision in hiring you rookie!”

Bodies already in motion, the three old members of the Heavy Response Division strolling northwards up eighth avenue before Jason Ford asks the big question. “S-so where are we g-going a-again?”

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Through the crowds, a conversation held in motion as citizens attempt to give the heavily armed group of four lawmen a wide berth in a relatively crowded street. Between the sounds of carriage bells, business conversations, and street-merchant advertisements the Sergeant speaks up. “Right, we didn’t brief you did we?”

“N-no ma’am.” The young man informs as he sips past an aging human in his way, the attempt at keeping up pushed effortlessly in agile movement.

Underfoot makes the snide comment, a prelude to the actions to come. “Well just like usual, the Special Investigation Department makes us do their dirty work.”

“Again they don’t have the time to be dealing with this sort of stuff.” Jarka waves off, beginning the impromptu briefing as they walk. “By the way, don’t worry about writing this down, just get a general idea of what we’re dealing with. You got that rookie?”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

A smile as she dumps the question right on him. “So how familiar are you with drugs?”

Innocent life among loving family, the only demand ever placed upon his shoulders found in the grades and behaviors of a good, middle class child. The requirement for pleasure derived in the novelia, home gyms, and suppers with father and mother; a natural antithesis against the seeking of artificially induced chemical fulfillment.

The foreign concept is played upon the uneducated face, the young man shaking his head. “Uhhh, n-not m-much ma’am.”

“Well time for a crash course kid.” Underfoot comments slyly.

“In that case just know the Special Investigation Division caught a kid charging arcanophetamine with one of the seven gates a few days ago. We’re out to visit his house to serve this thing.”

A sheet of parchment produced from within a well organized casebook, the police woman flaunting the thing in offering of a readership.

Jason Ford barely catches it as she releases it midstride, eyes semi-focused both on the street as well as the paper itself.

Iconography placing it in official terms, the sigil of the eagle and eight starred shield placed upon the corner of the item preludes the violative nature of its true purpose.

1ST COURT DISTRICT

WARRANT OF SEARCH & SEIZURE

An open hand requests it back, the young rookie quickly returning it as his squad leader continues. “Kid’s currently in purgatory in Precinct Fourteen’s holding cell. The Magistrate's not sure if he’s gonna be indicted on drug manufacturing & distribution or a social misdemeanor; so we’re gonna warrant his residence to make sure they’re running off the right evidence.”

Jason Ford voices the objection, a strangeness to procedure identified and acted upon. “Shouldn’t the Fourteenth Precinct’s Office be doing the search? I-I mean it is under their jurisdiction isn’t it?”

“If Arcane Crimes starts a case, we need to close it.” Underfoot comments. “Since we’re our own ‘precinct’ transferring any case is going to take paperwork. And it's not like Precinct Fourteen has any arcane experience, so they’re relying on us to do the heavy lifting.”

An answer barely satisfactory, Jason Ford simply nodding in agreement.

The halfling continues from waist level, a small form keeping pace with the rest. “And if you’re wondering if this is par for the course… well you’ll get used to it.”

Sergeant Jarka shrugs as she takes a pause, a street crossing held tight as traffic control officer stops pedestrian traffic; carriages crossing the arterial vein in full force. “Remember in the Academy, when they talked about precinct level procedure in general terms and said ‘except for two” which you weren’t supposed to worry about?”

Jason Ford gives a blank face as the woman continues. “Well one of ‘em is us.”