ㅤㅤ"This is it—Michael Angelini’s penthouse," David announced, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let us in. "The droids that responded to the call already combed through the place. Honestly, if there was anything to find, I’m sure they would have uncovered it." He leaned against the wall, arms folded, lingering near the doorway. "Has anyone else been here since then? You do have the key, after all," Lloyd asked, his tone sharp as he voiced the suspicion that hung in the air. David’s earlier comment had unintentionally painted a target on him. "What? No, absolutely not," David protested, shaking his head. "I haven’t set foot in here since... since it happened. I couldn’t bear it—just the thought of him, dead like that. But if you don’t trust me, I get it. You can check with the security control room I mentioned earlier. There’s a camera that covers Michael’s door. You’ll see if anyone entered when they weren’t supposed to." He excuses himself afterward, leaving us alone in the penthouse.

ㅤㅤ"So, what do you think, Detective?" Lloyd broke the silence. "Too many factors, not enough answers," I replied, keeping myself busy by looking around the place. "Which is why you're on the case," he said, stating the obvious. Maybe he was trying to be annoying and get under my skin—or maybe he had nothing better to do unless I gave him direction. Either way, I ignored him.

ㅤㅤAfter what felt like an hour of scouring the place, I heard Lloyd call out, "Hey, Detective! I think I found something." In seconds, I was by his side, watching as his hand reached behind the wide-screen TV. With a groan, he pulled out a transparent plastic bag filled with a powdered contents. "Drugs, huh," he said. I walked over and gently took the bag from him, holding it up to inspect it under better lighting. "Bits..." I muttered unconsciously, naming it without offering an explanation—his confused reaction made that clear.

ㅤㅤ"What kind of drug is it?" he asked. "I'm not sure," I murmured, my attention fixed on the shimmering blue crystals. "But it's been making waves in the lower sectors of the city," I added, recalling Michael's report about the new substance spreading through the streets. "And, it finally got here. Huh..." I hear him say. I turned to him, catching the thoughtful look on his face as the gears in his head turned. "What's on your mind?"

ㅤㅤ"Nothing, except we now know who and what to look for." I nodded, seizing the drug as both evidence and a clue. "That's right. We'll visit the lower sectors and talk to some people I know. But for now, we still need to question the tenants on this floor and speak with security." I said this as we left the penthouse, closing the door behind us—only to find David waiting outside. Clingy, as far as I'd come to know him. "Detective," he called out. I glanced at Lloyd, silently signaling him to handle the conversation while I hung back. A sudden, mild headache almost made my legs give out beneath me. I shut my eyes tightly as my mind spun in turmoil.

ㅤㅤ"Detective, are you alright?" Lloyd's voice prompted me to crack an eye open, the dizziness still lingering along with the nagging headache. "I'll manage," I said, raising a hand to stop him from touching me—likely intending to steady me by my arm. As I looked around, I realized David was missing. Lloyd caught on from the way my eyes shifted behind him. "I told him to gather the tenants here," he explained. "It'll be easier and faster, so we can wrap this up quicker." I caught the annoyance in his tone and wondered if it was because of me—probably, considering he was looking out for me while I could barely stand. "Great, but we still need to check with security. Ask them for the recording footage so we can review it back at the station." I replied.

ㅤㅤThe sound of footsteps drew our attention. "Sergeant, allow me to introduce—Ms. Mikaela Volkova, Monsieur Gaston Lapetit, and Mr. and Mrs. Crownley," David said, a hint of pride in his voice. All their eyes were on Lloyd, except for a pair with dark green hues that were fixed on me. "And who's the cute vixen?" Her accent was thick—Russian—as she circled around Lloyd and approached me. She hummed, eyeing me intently, taking me in before letting a small smile play on her lips. "You must be important, though I don't know who you are," she said, her gaze still fixed on me.

ㅤㅤ"Ms. Volkova, I'm Sergeant Lloyd. I'd like to ask you a few questions. The detective still needs to check with security," Lloyd interrupted, giving me a chance to step away. "Detective?" she asked, as if she weren’t already interested—this only seemed to pique her curiosity further. "Miss," I said, acknowledging her before turning toward the elevator. "Wait," she called out. The awkward feeling, combined with my fading but lingering headache, made me sigh as I turned to face her. "Here," she said, handing me a card. "This will let you activate the elevator. I'm sure David showed you when he brought you here?"

ㅤㅤ"Oh, yes he did. I forgot," I recalled. "Thank you, but don't you need this?" I asked, unsure if it was okay. "I'll just get another," she said. Then to my surprise, she leaned in close. "So you can come over, whenever you like," she whispered, her breath soft against my ear before she blew gently on it, the soft wind sending a tickle through me. I glanced carefully between her mischievous eyes and the card held between her fingers before silently taking it, just as the elevator door slid open with a soft chime. "If you'll excuse me, then," I said, dismissing myself. As I stepped into the elevator and turned to press the button, I caught her eyes lingering on my rear before meeting mine. Instead of looking flustered or embarrassed at being caught, she simply smirked and blew me a kiss just as the doors slid shut.

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ㅤㅤAfter questioning the security staff and requesting the surveillance footage from the month of the crime and the months prior, I was ready to head back and get Lloyd. As I waited for the elevator, with the day’s tasks nearly complete—though the real progress was only beginning—my thoughts drifted to personal matters I had been trying to avoid, delay, or, ideally, forget altogether. But I just couldn't, even if I truly tried.

ㅤㅤI pulled out my phone, debating whether to make Alex's funeral public—inviting his friends, the neighbors, anyone who knew him—or keep it private, just him and me. 'Just you and me,' a phrase we’d said so many times before. I didn’t know what to do—honestly, for the first time in my life, I had no idea. My mind goes blank every time I think about him being gone. It feels like a nightmare, one where all I need is a bullet to the head to finally wake up.

ㅤㅤ"Detective," a familiar voice that sounded like Alex snapped me from my trance. 'Alex?' For a brief moment, I felt a surge of hope—only for it to crash when the voice became clearer the second time. It was Lloyd, holding the elevator door open. "Yes, what is it, Sergeant?" I asked as I stepped into the elevator with him. "I was just done questioning them, thought I should head down your way," he explained. "Were you successful in getting the surveillance footage?" I hummed in response, already too tired to speak, let alone say anything.

ㅤㅤOn the way back to the cruiser, I glanced at him, and, like the perceptive person he was, he noticed. As he slid into the driver's seat and I took the passenger side, he began, "Figured you'd be curious. Just like you, I got an entry card—from the Frenchie, Monsieur Gaston Lapetit." He grinned before scoffing. "The bastard thought I'd entertain the idea of spending a night with him. Yeah, tough luck," he said, smiling as he drove us off. The drive to the precinct was uneventful, much like the small talk Lloyd kept trying to initiate and my brief, disinterested responses. It was a repetitive cycle.

ㅤㅤ"Wait, so you’re the one who caught the psychopath from the Calrog sector?" he asked, surprise and enthusiasm written all over his face. When my silence was his only answer, he continued unfazed. "Huh, I’m guessing that’s the case that got you promoted to your rank. Can’t say you didn’t earn it," he added, casually steering the wheel as if discussing the weather.

ㅤㅤJust as the silence finally settled, allowing me to appreciate it along with the beautiful sights of the higher sector, he broke it—with something I didn’t expect. "The man you last killed, Ryan Smith," he said so casually I almost missed it. Almost. But that name was like a venomous snake, hissing in the back of my mind. "I heard he killed your brother-"

ㅤㅤI snapped my head toward him, my voice razor-sharp. "Don’t. Ever. Say his name again." Anger, pain, and rage burned in my eyes, raw and uncontained, as I locked my gaze on him. My nails bit into my palms, reopening half-healed wounds. My breathing turned ragged, each breath a struggle against the weight pressing down on my chest.

ㅤㅤ'Breathe, just breathe...' Alex's voice echoed in my head, but the anger inside me was stubborn, refusing to give in. "Don’t talk to me like you know me—you don’t," I raged, my voice rising. "And I don’t know who you are, nor do I intend to. We’re here to do a job, so let’s focus on that!" I shouted the last part, my temper flaring beyond control. He fell silent, his eyes fixed on the road, refusing to glance my way.

ㅤㅤI ran a hand over my face in frustration, letting out an exasperated sigh before rubbing my temples, trying to shake off the tension and the regret. I wanted the quiet, but how I got it gnawed at me. 'I'm so stupid,' I thought, the admission hanging heavy in my mind. A thousand—maybe even a million—thoughts raced through my head on how to apologize. But he beat me to it.

ㅤㅤ"I'm sorry," he said softly. As we came to a red light, he took the moment to turn to me, meeting my eyes before quickly looking away, refocusing on the road ahead. "It's just... I know how it feels to lose someone to someone you trusted. It doesn't sit right." He continued, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I just wanted you to know I’d do the same, despite what the people—or even the officers in your precinct—might think." I couldn't quite place my reaction, but if I had to guess, it mirrored the sad look on his face.

ㅤㅤThe rest of the drive was silent. And, before I knew it, I was back at my apartment, standing on the balcony with a lit cigarette in hand. The night breeze felt good against my face as I took a drag, closing my eyes to savor the heat of the smoke in my lungs. When I cracked an eye open, I looked out over the city. A thought crossed my mind—hoping a nuke would come out and strike it, burn it to ash and smoke. I exhaled, letting the cloud drift over the city—the closest I could get to 'ashes and smoke'—before it faded into the night.