Fairway

A whole two days had passed since the escape of the infamous serial killer. The city was tense. No one had any idea where he was. Everyone was to keep their doors shut at night, and if they say anything suspicious, they were to report it right away. His name and mug shots were being broadcast all over Fairway.

Marlon Bulle, 35, white, male, 6’4”, a weight of two hundred pounds, brown eyes, black hair. Everyone knew his face already. He was a celebrity now.

As the news blared onto the TV mounted upon the wall, Fenzhi straightened her apron, then picked up the coffee pot that was sitting on the counter. It was, more or less, a normal morning in the 12th Street Café. Other than occasional talk of murder, the atmosphere was calm.

As Fenzhi slowly made her way to a middle-aged man in a booth, she glanced toward the door, as if expecting trouble. There were two people in the café that morning…two! Normally, it was bustling. 10 am wasn't a terrible hour for the city, was it?

“You look worried, Fen,” said the middle-aged man, peeking over his newspaper. “Do you need to be comforted?”

With a snort, Fenzhi poured his coffee, then turned abruptly. “It’s Miss Tang to you, Mr. Hauer! Please bother someone your age. You've got no chance with someone like me.”

“So you've got accustomed to thinking,” he began, smirking before he took a sip from his mug. “Miss Tang.”

Fenzhi dumped herself on a stool behind the counter, face in her hands. As if the morning wasn't already stressful. She gazed longingly, then worriedly, out of the window. She wanted to get out of there, and recent events had only made her more antsy.

Morgan parked her black sedan in front of the 12th Street Cafe, stepped out, and landed right into a puddle. "Lovely. First day back, and I'm in knee deep already." This she muttered to no one, and stepped up onto the curb and inside the cafe. The bell that was positioned above the door rang through. Surprisingly, Morgan heard it. Usually, the bustle about the restaurant was loud enough to drown it out. Closing the door, her sneakers squeaked as she made her way to a bar stool at the counter.

Sliding unto the seat, she sat her paper in front of her, along with the bulky cell phone that belonged to the department. As if on cue, the phone started to vibrate atop the speckled colored counter. "Marvine." She said into the receiver. "Yeah, I'm back in town. You requested me at the conference today, right?" Pause "Ok, well I'll be there when I get there. You already cut my vacation time in half, which was approved and scheduled 2 months in advance, mind you." Pause "Yeah, yeah. Well I'm worthless without coffee and hashbrowns, so I'll be in within the hour."

The recent activity within Fairview had called the Lieutenant Detective in from her vacation early. It wasn't like she was doing anything special anyways; mostly sleeping, reading, and working out. Regardless, none of her time off was to include anything field related. Until Marlon Bulle pulled off his stunt. This was Morgan's first reason for finding the bastard, to make him pay for interrupting her plans of oblivious nothing; then there was his acts of murder. Yeah, those weren't too socially acceptable. Today was to be the day that the Chief put together his team of investigators, and for whatever reason, he wanted, no demanded, Morgan be a part of it.

Morgan flipped the paper open to it's full extent, and scoffed as Bulle's picture dawned the front. "You'd think the reporters knew his exact whereabouts as much as they write him up and down every damned day now!" Flipping to the sports section, she looked up to Fenzhi, the regular waitress on duty. "How you doin' Fen?" Morgan was a regular, and need not ask the woman for coffee with cream, for she already knew and would start pouring as soon as she was able to tend.

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His current appearance:
After pulling an all-nighter in search of a fugitive who probably wasn't even in Fairway any longer, Daishal had slept atop of a large - and closed - dustbin with Skull resting on the side of his head. He'd only managed to catch an hour of sleep before feeling the over-sized rodent nipping at his ear as if to say 'wake up, I'm hungry'. A loud sigh broke through his pursed lips and groggily he jumped from the bin. "Where d'you wanna eat then?" he asked Skull, who jumped off his shoulder and scurried off with Daishal following closely behind him.

Of course, running through the streets with tattered and blood-stained clothing was bad enough, but to be chasing a rat as well was bound to attract a few odd looks from the bystanders of his home town. Surely they knew who he was. He'd managed to get access to the library computers and printers to print off flyers advertising his services as a bounty hunter. If you needed someone to be tracked or arrested, he was your go-to guy. And he was pretty cheap as well. He didn't require rent because he slept wherever he felt comfortable, and he only needed to eat one meal a day with a few snacks on the side which he usually gave to Skull.

He lived the life of a homeless bounty hunter, and he was pretty damn proud as well.

After a few minutes of running through the crowds of people, both he and his rodent companion arrived at a small café. From outside it appeared to be quite empty but he imagined that more people would flood in the later it got. He lowered his hand to the ground and waited for Skull to scamper up his arm before standing back up again. "I don't think you're allowed in," Daishal said quietly, turning his head to look at the rat. "I'll bring you out some bacon pieces, don't worry. Just wait over by that bench." Skull did as he was told and hid underneath the bench as Daishal entered the café.

Compared to everyone else, Daishal looked a mess, but if he cared about people's opinions then he might've gotten a better education, a home and a dog instead of a rat. He walked up to the bar and stood a few seats down from a woman whom he could only assume was part of the police force. He turned to the young waitress with a slanted grin. "G'morning, can I get a full English breakfast? No egg. An' some orange juice."

Driving through the dead streets of the small city wasn't exactly an easing feeling for Roland. He was tired, just having gotten off a plane and into his rental car. He caught a night flight from New York to Fairway, arriving in the morning. Now he was driving around the streets, looking for the police department; he was supposed to report in and get his briefing.

He had been reassigned here due to the necessity of someone with more experience involving the more "unpleasant" parts of detective work: basically, they needed a big city homicide detective. The more hands and brains, they figured, the better chance they had in catching the guy. Marlon Bulle was the sick bastard's name. Roland had engrained it into his memory, memorized his whole file, did everything but make the case personal.

The streets were practically ghostly in appearance; not much traffic for a morning. At least there wasn't a hellhole of cars to drive behind, and he could make it to his new assignment faster. He drove with an almost absent-mindedness, following the road signs subconsciously, as if he knew where he was going already. Grey and silent was the morning, and it bugged Roland to no end.

Before he knew it, he was parked in front of the precinct, unbuckling his seat belt and headed for the door. He stopped to hold the door open for a woman carrying a box of files; Probably a clerk, he thought. He waited in the lobby, waited for someone to notice him. Sure enough, the same woman occupied the office behind the glass. "Oh," she said, "Yes, may I help you?" Roland cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. The damn thing was irritating him to no end.

"Yes, my name is Roland Anderson. I'm the homicide detective from the NYPD." The woman stared at him, as if confused. "I'm on reassignment here," he said, more like a question. "I know why you're here, detective. We just didn't expect you so soon." With that, she picked up the phone, getting her chief on the line. "Sir, the detective from New York is here," she said. When she hung up, she instructed Roland to the back of the building, buzzing him in. "Welcome to Fairway, detective."

Right, he thought.

Leila turned on her small fan desk to cool herself off. Her desk was farthest from the vent, and her work area often got really hot. She drummed her fingers on one of the novels littering her desk. She slid it into her bag, figuring that she'd read it later. Suddenly, her sister barged through the doors of the police office. "Leila!" Cecila growled. She walked over to her desk in a huff. "Leila, give it back!" Her face looked bare, mainly because she wasn't wearing her glasses. She crossed her arms. "I don't have it!" Leila protested. Cecila snorted and fumbled around, then grabbed Leila's bag. She blindly shuffled through it before pulling out red frames. She snorted. "You act like you're five!" Cecila hissed, framing her face with the glasses. "I don't know how you got to be a detective!" Cecila stormed off without saying another word.

Cecila drove through town before coming to a slow stop in front of a tall, glass building. She stood up straight and calmly walked through the doors. The woman at the front desk offered a small smile, but Cecila blew past her and walked into another room. She dusted off her lab coat and cautiously approached a group of people in lab coats. They looked up with timid expressions. "What? Is it done yet?" They nodded and handed a small sliver square with a screen in the middle. She turned it on and nodded. "Good enough," Cecila muttered.

Leila looked up to see a man walk through the front towards the chief's office. Everyone went silent and watched him. It was a small police office, and not a lot of people walked through that they didn't know well. Leila rolled her eyes at the gawking faces and took a small bite of her half- finished doughnut. She tapped on her keyboard and did a little more desk work. She then leaned back in her desk chair.

"Ah, Morgan. Been a little while since I've seen you, yeah?" Fenzhi said to the cop, already fixing up her order. "Came just in time. It's slow. I wonder why." She gave the officer a wry smile.

When the bell above the door rang again, just as Fenzhi had finished Morgan's order. It slid across the counter to her. "Morning, sir." she told the man who had come in. "You're a new face. Can I help you?" After listening to his order, she wrote it down and tagged it to the order holder, wheeling it into the kitchen. "Got something for you guys!"

She looked back to Morgan. "Hey, I don't suspect that you know anything about-"

"The murder!"

The little bell rang panickedly as the door was slammed open, and a young girl hurried in with a backpack over her shoulder. Fen sighed. "Walk, Coline."

The girl stopped at the counter abruptly, breath ragged as she struggled to unzip her backpack and take out its contents. She retrieved a manila envelope. "I mean, you guys have heard about it, right!? How are you guys just here doing everything like normal!" From the envelope slipped a picture of someone familiar. Marlon Bulle. "We've got a killer on the loose! I mean, you know about it, right? Who doesn't know about it!?"

"Inside voices, Coline." She gave Daishal and Morgan an apologetic glance. "You might scare off the new guy."

"How can I! How'd this guy escape? They said he just disappeared out of thin air!"

Classified information. How did this little girl get it?

A cop car drove out in front of the precinct. Out came an officer and a twenty-something that looked like a slacker. He dressed like he was still in High School. Baggy pants, hoodie, floppy bangs. The whole deal.

The officer lead him inside. "Anyone know where Mark is? He ain't pickin' up and I've got a guy here with information on the Bulle murder case." he said, voice gruff. "And if you can, we need someone to get in touch with Mark! I've been trying to get him for an hour! I got no idea where he's at."

The young man looked slightly uncomfortable, and had his hands stuffed into his pockets. He shuffled in his spot.

Leila looked up from her desk. Her chair then toppled backwards. "OOF!" She then giggled at little and stood up and lifted her chair up and set it upright. "Eh, I'm not sure. I'm a little distracted, Cecila came in and yelled at me..." Leila shrugged. "So what kind of information does he have?" She asked curiously, wondering what a person his age would know anything about Bulle. He didn't look to be the kind of person with information, then again, she became a part of the police force, so she guessed that anything was possible.

Cecila boxed a group of the small devices. "Alright, pack the rest of these up and put these in the trailer, I'l make the shipment," Cecila instructed to the group of nervous interns. THey scuttled away and did their work. Cecila got in the car connected to the trailer. "Is the trailer ready?" SHe asked. "YEs it is!" One of the teenagers proudly announced. Cecila rolled her eyes. "I'm getting breakfast afterwards," She muttered as she drove off towards the station. Cecila carried multiple boxes in. "Cool! What cool tech stuff did you bring to us this time?" Leila grinned. Cecila rolled her eyes and opened the box. "Cool! Now what are they?" Cecila slapped her forehead.

Standing in the chief's office, Roland was damning the suit and tie he was sporting: black with white pinstripes, white collared shirt, with a plain crimson tie. And it was stifling. It was warm in the office as is, and the suit served to try to choke what little life Roland had in him this morning. The chief had Roland's file in his hand, reading it fervently.

"So, how many cases have you worked, detective Anderson?" he said, without warning. Roland wasn't surprised, however. He answered: "Forty-six homicides, twenty cases of manslaughter, thirteen murder-suicides, and five mass shootings." The room was quiet a minute, then the chief leaned forward, outstretching his arm, hand open. "Welcome aboard detective."

Roland gripped the man's hand firmly, without a smile. He was tired, otherwise he would be much more accommodating with his cheerfulness, what little of it his work hadn't stolen, anyway. When their hands separated, the chief instructed Roland to take a left from here to reach his own office. "We'll have to get you a nameplate, but, it'll do for now." Roland nodded, taking a box of files the chief had procured and proceeded to his destination.

He became aware of the people watching him, wondering about him. He shook it off. There would be time to meet people later; for now, he had to settle in, get comfortable with the case.

The office wasn't very big, but it sufficed for the work he would do: A brown elbow-shaped desk, bending at a right angle, a computer- an old model - sat on one side. There was a black office chair sitting behind the desk. The room had no window and a singular overhead florescent light. Roland set the box of files on the desk and rounded his way to the chair to take a seat. The chair creaked, and wasn't very comfortable. He felt cramped in here.

Home sweet home, he thought.

Daishal Choer Droalon.

Daishal smiled a little at the waitress when she walked off to give his order to the kitchen staff. He hoped the food didn't take too long to arrive, as Skull was incredibly impatient and would probably just run off to find something else to eat after a while of waiting. He wouldn't have minded if it were anyone else or even any other animal, but he loved his rodent companion more than anything and so Daishal was often very wary and protective over what Skull did and didn't eat.

The waitress turned to speak to the police officer so Daishal took this moment to rest his head on the desk and take a breath. He was startled a little when a young girl's voice called out something about a murder, which he thought was quite odd. He'd heard about the murder, he'd heard about the murderer... But more importantly, he'd heard about the disappearance. It was a strange case that he was looking into but hadn't had much luck with it so far. He wasn't the type to seek out a criminal without there being payment involved, so he'd have to just leave it be until someone approached him and actually offered payment for his services.

"Inside voices, Coline," said the waitress, "you might scare off the new guy." He lifted his head up and met her glance but said nothing aside from shaking his head a little. "How can I! How'd this guy escape? They said he just disappeared out of thin air!" Daishal took this moment to chuckle quietly to himself, but still he didn't interrupt the conversation by saying anything. He'd just watch and wait to see how the conversation would play out.

When a customer came in, Skull had managed to run through the gap that the guy had left in the door, and immediately after he entered he ran up to Daishal, crawled up his chair, then his back and sat down on his shoulder. "I told you that you weren't allowed in, you little shit," he growled, but left the rat to it after a moment. Skull looked over at the waitress and kept his eyes on her, just staring...

John was sleep, But soon after rolled right off the couch. "Ahh.. Alright, I'm up!" He raised up his arm placing it right on the couch. He'd use the couch to help himself off the ground. "Geez, cant get enough sleep." He thought to his self. John sat on the couch with his hands on his face dropping to his side. He'd stand walking over to the windowing. "fairway... Nothing happens at all.."

Morgan acknowledged the server, "Yeah. Vacation time."

Barely noticing the new patron who entered, Morgan buried her nose in the newspaper. Not that there was anything particularly interesting, but none the less, a timeless tradition.

Winning Lottery: 19, 21, 53, 47, 13 Morgan reached into her back pocket, and crumbled up a small square of paper, setting it next to her glass of water.
Today's High Temperature: 67
Your Horoscope For Today... 'No thank you.' Morgan shoved the paper aside, as her plate of food slid to her front, steam rising, and torturing her senses.

Inbetween bites of bacon and toast, Morgan started to answer Fenzhi, but the child came storming in just as. This gave Morgan ample opportunity to finish her food, before she actually took notice to the child's rantings due to her folder full of 'evidence'. Wiping the remaining egg from the corners of her mouth, she took a swig of her coffee.

This guy was getting far too much attention for Morgan's tastes. However, she didn't know much of it, just what everyone else did, due to her absence. "Tell you what, Coline? Is It?" Morgan folded her newspaper up back to it's original form, "How about we trade? huh? I've heard that the killer himself keeps a keen eye on those who follow his work. No sense in putting yourself in danger. That's what I'm here for." Morgan attempted a smile, while turning to flash her silver badge. Gently replacing the young girls papers with the newspaper, Morgan situated it opposite side the child, "Now then, I should be shoving off..." Morgan looked down to her watch, "And perhaps, miss Coline, school is going to be starting soon? Would you like a ride V.I.P style? Just to keep you safe from any lurking serial killers, that is." Morgan eyed Fenzhi. Not many saw a gentle side to the Detective, but children weren't a bother to her for the most part.

John kept looking through the window, thinking about how much trouble he got his self into in his past. His own family disowning him, his father beating his mother to a point, where she almost died. John lost it that night the memory's that flowed around in his head like record video. He almost killed his own father.

"Sometimes that's old news, Maybe I'll check into this killer business, and figure it out.." He looked over too his family's picture, talking to it like they were with him giving him the face. They always did when he fucked up. John turned on his heels placing a hand on his head sliding the hair to the side. He'd walk over to the counter grabbing his keys, and his wallet. He'd place the wallet in his back pocket, then the keys in his side pocket. Once done, John walked over to the door grabbing his coat. He'd put it on, taking the sun glasses out from the pockets of the coat, and placing them over eye's.

John opened the door then stepped out, closed the door, and locked it behind Him. Then walked off into the the streets of Fairway.