Movement

Chapter Three.

IT was days like this, where Brady Allen realized just how unsure she was about her path in life. It started out as a relatively normal morning- she had woken up (hungover), taken Apollo for a jog in the park, taken her daily shower, grabbed a quick cup of coffee at the corner bodega and headed to work perfectly on time. Her mornings, you see, were ritualistic; an everyday occurrence that seemed to always aid in helping her prepare for the unexpected day she always had ahead of her. No day, in her line of work, was completely the same. And so, as much as any Taurus hates spontaneity, she clung to her daily morning routine for some form of familiar-ness.

As she walked into the office space, she frowned, because something felt ever-so-slightly off- as if the energy in the room was much too dull. The harsh, fluorescent light (which was typically always dull) was even worse than it usually was. There was no pep in anyone's step, everyone wandered slowly through the work space with dim expressions and tight-lipped smiles. She continued frowning as she slowly made her way through the sea of her coworkers towards her very own desk- situated neatly in the corner with only a Florida snow globe, complete with floating sand and a small pink beach chair alongside a palm tree. It was gifted from her mother.

Just then, she heard him. She could hear the anger in his voice before she could even see his face but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up- a terribly shrill, sharp voice with cutting words that always seemed to make her blood boil.

Supervisory Special Agent Louis Tomlinson was Brady's superior ever since she walked through the door- a short, stocky man with bright blue eyes and a lack of manners or anger management skills. Tomlinson hated Brady as soon as she walked in- and no one was quite sure why, but they all figured it had to do with the way she was quiet and didn't flinch in his wrath. He enjoyed a reaction from people; he loved seeing the way they sank back from him and tried to keep out of his reach in fear of falling victim to him. Brady analyzed this trait from him as soon as she met him and figured that he had a lot to overcompensate for and therefor, lived his adult life by instilling a fear inside of those he was superior to in order to avoid being taken advantage of. Brady didn't hate him, she just felt bad for him.

As soon as he appeared through the doorway she was able to make out what he was saying- something along the lines of a 'mission' that went, in his exact words, 'to complete fu.cking sh.it' due to a mishap in the field and must've injured some of their men. That's when Brady perked up and realized why the office felt so different: Harry.

Harry had been out in the field for over 48 hours now on a mission that involved finally incarcerating their main focus right now- Roberto Dumaz. Roberto Dumaz had been out of radar for over a week now, only last seen when Brady and Harry were scoping him out in the coffee shop on the Upper East Side. Harry, alongside four other men, were supposed to be currently in a projects building up near Mount Vernon, safely hidden from the drug lord and his men before performing a raid the following morning. According to Tomlinson, that wasn't the case.

"Those fu.cking idiots just had to get drunk, didn't they?!" He shouted, earning a few flinches to those within close proximity him. "And now Payne and Styles are going to be on fucking medical rest for weeks! For fu.ck's sake, do you know how much longer we're going to have to wait to perform another raid? Do you?!"

The intern standing beside him, currently on the receiving hand of his wrath cringed outwardly at his boss, cowering away as he held his clipboard tightly to his chest. He stuttered out an agreement back, his face turning red in embarrassment as Brady frowned again, her gaze still trained on her computer screen. Hurt? He got hurt?

"Allen!" Tomlinson shouted, and she reluctantly met his gaze from across the room. She raised an eyebrow at him and he sneered with distaste as he asked, "EMS experience, right? Get your a.ss up and meet those idiots in the break room."