Semifinals: Brandy Alva

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The police office of the UCPD was bustling. It was more packed than usual, the Saturday crowd filing in and out with "citizen" complaints and a heavy influence of magic swirling around the building. It tasted of electricity, stinging the detective's tongue as he sat hunched over a large, wooden desk in the middle of the madness. One hand was curled heavily through black, messy locks, and the other held tight the end of a sharp, bloodied dagger. It was still sealed in plastic, the evidence tag smudged from the amount of sweaty, grubby hands that had passed it from one department to the other and back again for days on end now. In fact, every item that pertained to the case of Dorian's murder had been treated in a similar manner, hardly touching the evidence shelf since it'd been brought in by one of the investigators hired for the case.

Out of all the torn pieces and dead corpses now sitting in the morgue beneath the station, only one had been removed from its sealed, protective plastic. The Word, or what they had of it, was currently in the midst of being tracked down to its original binding. With all of the backlash from the Seelie Council, though, it'd been a hell of a ride just to find the thing. What should have taken a day had stretched a week and only now was a wrap of broad knuckles given on Detective Levitt's much like someone would on a door if he had been high enough to have his own office.

Still, not knowing the nature of the disruption, Adam could barely give the two-beat cop the time of day as he flashed a stale look up at her and tried returning to the evidence at hand. Given a firm clearing of the young woman's throat and a second knocking, which wasn't needed and only served to stir the aggravation sitting in the fae's gut further, he sat up straight and glared at the intruder. "What is it?" There was an unusual gruffness to Adam's voice that the cop was unused to, and she stepped backward uncertain, leaving a good foot between them. In fact, it was a tone that most of the others had trouble getting used to over the past couple of days. For someone who was known for being surprisingly light and airy in his speech and mannerisms, it was an unwelcome change when there was enough riding on the case as it was. Although, the best explanation on the reasoning for the sudden switch came from Adam's closest friend in the department, Lieutenant Keaton. He said it was nothing more than the stress of the case itself, and given there was no other evidence present, the rest of the department had taken his word for it.

"They narrowed down the location," Officer Hadley responded, tucking a small piece of blonde hair behind her ear nervously. They were covered almost completely by a series of silver piercings, but considering the fade had started only a month ago, gossip had spread rapidly that it was likely because of her break up with Laura. Not that it was in Adam's job description to care, but still, word got around.

Tasting the words, the detective began to perk up, standing hurriedly from his desk and reaching the police-issued revolver waiting in his desk drawer to clip into the back of his belt. "And you have the address?" he asked, eyes darting across her hurriedly as if he was worried that she was merely lying to him. Of course, she wouldn't have been able to if she tried. Aside from Adam, she was one of the only two other faes on the force.

As a swift nod of the woman's head was given, another boy came running up. Calling him a boy wasn't an exaggeration either, the young zombie looked to be no older than fifteen or sixteen, heavy black locks falling into his eyes as he struggled to look calm. It was clear, though, hidden behind his one good eye was a spark of excitement that made Adam's own lips crack into a grin. It wasn't often that the other detective, who refused to go by anything other than the initials J.C., gave any form of expression other than the grim, stoniness that came with being over fifty years old and still trapped inside a body stuck at an age that made it impossible to investigate in any setting that forbid a "teenager."

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