Creation of unknown hardwood, varnished and painted over with green coloring. A house number printed in slightly tarnishing steel, eight one seven.
Four officers move up the stairs, a position halted as Sergeant Jarka stops at the very precipice. “If anyone has a bad feeling, speak up now.”
Silence as her three subordinates turn to face one another, a general unease sanctioned yet no outlying panic from any soul. A simplicity to it all, the social workings of policing left to their sole superior.
The Sergeant’s hand hovers over the door, a reorientation of character and charisma playing out upon her face as she stretches musculature to a simple, concerned look.
Beneath the patrol cap, away from her holstered weapon upon her back, the woman seemed almost familial in her deception; an actualized purpose hidden with falsified care.
Three sharp knocks at the door, the sound echoing within the interior of the building. The police officer follows up with a hard declaration of purpose. “This is the South Police Department!”
A long silence as the ambience of the city echoes through silent streets, glances exchanged between orderlies as suddenly the sound of rustling behind the door is caught by attentive senses.
Two locks clicking open, the simple peak of the opening terminus allowing for a quick glance at the resident within.
Human, female, shorter than the average stock of South. Blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at the four officers. Connection made, she opens the door further.
An interior mostly censored by the bodily form, her long dress of thick cotton against the biting cold of South taking up the majority of the sightlines within.
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A voice soft, barely holding back emotion. “I-i-is my son… alright? Did you find him?!”
Sergeant Jarka takes a deep breath, voice even as she answers her. “Are you Karai Romez?”
Eyes widening, a hope brought to the surface. “Yes! Mathias!”
The called husband comes as called, the taller lankier body stopping as the human spots the officers of the law. “Did you find Davin?”
The police sergeant doesn’t even hesitate in her allotted giving of news. “Davin Romez has been arrested under the suspicion of manufacturing arcanophetamine. He is currently being held at Police Precinct Fourteen’s headquarters.”
Dead silence as souls attempt to process news.
“T-there must be some mistake, t-there’s…”
Jarka interrupts him quietly, continuing with a cold gaze. “There is no mistake sir. I’m sorry, but we’re here to search the residence. Will you allow us to search your property?”
The answer comes quick, an emotional state somehow remaining intact against the insane news brought to their doorstep. “S-sure but I d-don’t…”
Sergeant Jarka doesn’t hesitate as she takes a first step in, open hand casually brushing aside the owners. A quick glance behind her, a motion to follow answered by her subordinates.
The scent of flowers and perfume, a minimalist lifestyle upon the living room intruded with steel and law. Officers in immediacy, awaiting the closure of conversation held by Sergeant Jarka. “If one of you can show Officer Underfoot and Ford to Davin’s living or personal storage quarters. I will also need to ask you both some questions.”
“Y-Yes of course, um… I’ll show you where it is.” The man rises, a guiding body stumbling towards the stairs at the back of the house.
Underfoot nudges the thigh of the young officer, a step already taken towards the fathered figure. Voice devoid of its usual joyous wording, an unnatural seriousness to his orders. “Come on kid, we’re up.”
Steep hardwood stairs, Jason Ford taking the rear as he follows the train of two upwards. A final glance towards both Sergeant Jarka and Officer Ican, the mother of their primary suspect bursting into tears at the realization of a cruel universe.