Detective Justice's Story

Alcoholics Anonymous meetings were a bore. Alyssa didn't understand why her therapist thought it necessary to send her to the damn meetings. She was not an alcoholic. Just because someone like to get drunk at the end of a long fucking day didn't mean that you were an alcoholic. It just meant that you needed to wind the hell down. Alyssa ever wondered if the therapist had ever gone through a divorce and then the death of another husband.

Alyssa's Louboutins clicked on the pavement as she made her way to her black sedan. A few years ago she would never have been caught dead in a dress suit, but since she had opened her own business, Alyssa had taken to dressing like a woman. Her old blues were definitely retired and had been traded in for Burberry and Armani for Women.

And the change in style had nothing to do with Randin Kaye; her first ex-husband. Not at all.

Alyssa's sharp and brown eyes traveled over the backside of a man standing near a car parked behind her. He looked familiar when his face turned to show a profile. Alyssa couldn't place where she had seen him so she shrugged it off. A hot man like that she would have remembered, unless she had been on duty when she was a cop.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Alyssa exclaimed as she saw the pink slip on her windshield and the ugly, metal, yellow boot on her wheel. Those parking tickets had finally caught up to her. It was an unfortunate time for the WCPD to be actually doing their job.

"Just my luck. Just my damn luck!" Alyssa said before she kicked her tire. Not too hard, of course. It would have been a shame to ruin her designer heels in her anger. The woman set down her Loui Vuitton bag on the trunk of her car and dug around for her cell phone.

"That's everyone's lick in this city, si?" Viktor asked, looking towards the angry woman nearby. "At least you did not come to one of those, uh... those..." The Italian man snapped his fingers, trying his best to figure out what the word he was looking for was in English. For all the years he spent speaking English and learning the language it never came as natually as he wanted it to.

"Boots!" He finally said, "A boot. They put it on the wheel and you can't drive. All bullshit if you ask me, signora." The suited man said, glancing down at his phone one last time before putting it away.

"I'm guessing you've had a long day?"

Alyssa ripped her cell phone out of her handbag and started searching for a number in her contacts. She scrolled passed the man's name twice due to a distraction. There was a wonderful Italian accent floating to her ears. Alyssa was dumbfounded for a short while before she recovered.

There was somewhere Alyssa had seen that man's face before but still she couldn't recall exactly where it had been.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's just these stupid AA meetings take up a lot of my precious time and now I've got a boot on my car," said Alyssa. She sighed and made a hopeless gesture.

"And now on top of that I have to call my ex-husband to pull some strings to send someone to come take the damn thing off. My day just keeps getting better and better," the woman said with a dry laugh. It wasn't funny to her at all.

"This is Wing City, signora. It could be worst for you. Not long ago I got shot in the chest in my own apartment building." The man told Alyssa, placing a finger against the right side of his chest just below his collar bone.

"And, it wasn't for anything I had done. I like to at least be shot for a good reason." The Italian man joked, getting up from where he sat against his car and turning to search for the cap to his pill bottle. "I can give you a ride. I was just enjoying the breeze for a bit. The scenery. y'know?" He asked.

Viktor found the cap, twisting it back onto the small bottle before hiding it away in his suit jacket. "It'll probably save you from needing a ride from your ex-husband as well."

"That would probably... suck."

Suck wasn't the right word. Alyssa would love any excuse to call Randin just to be able to see him again. But the last time they had seen each other was an embarrassment for Alyssa. She had thrown herself at him right after handing him the divorce papers from their drunken elope. Ever since then there hadn't been a good reason to see him; no real reason to own up to her actions.

"He's not so bad. Randin is a nice man, really. We're still friends," said Alyssa as she looked down at his name programmed into her cell phone. The woman worked her bottom lip with her teeth as she thought about how not smart it would be to call him. She would just embarrass herself again. It had been so long since they last spoke that he probably didn't even consider her a friend anymore.

And yet, she still wanted to call him even though a gorgeous Italian man with bullet scars was offering her a ride.

"I think I'll be fine calling him, or who knows, it is a pretty day. Maybe I should get some exercise and walk. You know, go green," Alyssa said to Mr. Italy.

"Randin?" Viktor asked, "Un'altra delle sue conquiste." He said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm going to insist on giving you a ride, but I won't push it, signora." The Italian private eye told Alyssa.

"If you change your mind I'm going to be around for awhile. Calls to make while I have time to waste."

Viktor had a lot of time to waste. He was pretty sure the Russians wanted him dead just for dating Casey, who was nowhere to be found. Again. Stryfe wasn't sure if the man had a real place in the Invictus anymore. Phinx was caught up in her own revenge plot.

He needed a drink. He wanted a drink. Just one or two to get a buzz going and that would be it.

"Thank you," said Alyssa. She smiled at him and then looked back down at her phone. Maybe just a text message instead of actually calling him. It was less personal, but then again that might just piss him off. Alyssa didn't want Randin to think that she was using him just for his ties to the WCPD.

Alyssa pressed Randin's name but couldn't bring herself to press the call button. The woman gave up with a sigh and a silent curse. She wasn't ready to see him again. Not just yet.

"You know, I think I've seen you before. I don't know why but your face looks familiar. Have we met before," Alyssa asked the man who had offered a ride. She tucked her cell phone into her blazer pocket and flashed him another smile.

"I used to hit the bars a lot." Viktor told Alyssa, "Uh... I'm a private eye, maybe you hired me?" He asked the woman, "I don't get out much, so there isn't many places or reasons you might know my face. Outside of Naples that is, signora." The Italian man said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Come on." He gestured for her to get into his car, gliding over to the driver side to get in. "Despite the accent and the car I'm not some gangster. Some might say I'm thuggish. I prefer being called a rogue. A puckish rogue." The Italian joked, pressing a finger against a button in his car.

The engine woke up, purring like a kitten. It was clear that the sedan had an expensive, possibly custom, engine. Not your average vehicle, even for a private detective.

Alyssa picked up her Loui Vuitton and cradled it in the nook of her elbow. She really shouldn't get in the car with the man. Alyssa was prone to doing awful things when left with men, but that was usually when she was drunk. Therapy was supposed to be helping her with that.

"You don't come off as a rogue to me, or a gangster. You don't scream P.I. either but people like us never do," Alyssa said. She walked to the passenger door and opened it.

"I'm Alyssa Justice, by the way, and thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it. You don't know how much trouble you're saving me," confessed Alyssa. She cleared her throat and kept her hands on her designer bag.

"Puckish rogue." Viktor corrected, looking out into the street for passing cars. The last thing he needed was an accident because he wasn't careful or because someone was an asshole.

"People like us? Private detective as well? Mercenary?" Viktor asked, "You're in designer, so I wouldn't have pegged you for any of those." He said, opening his suit jacket to show the Armani label. "Expensive tastes, si?"

Viktor began to pull out into the street, "Let me know where to go." He told Alyssa as he picked up speed and zoomed down the road. "I'm Vittorio Vetrano, by the way. You can call me Viktor. It's more... American, I would say."

Vittorio Vetrano was shaping up to be a man that Alyssa would love to spend a great amount of time with... naked. She needed to stop those thoughts immediately. The last time she allowed herself to do something stupid complicated her life far too much. There was no more room for mistakes in her life.

Alyssa threw herself into professional conversation to distract herself.

"I own a private investigation company, yes. Justice Private Investigations. It was a gift from my last husband, not the one that I told you about earlier. I used to be a cop but I quit and he gave me another opinion of serving my home city," explained Alyssa.

"Do you know where Riverwalk Cafe is?" she asked him. It was a snazzy and uptown cafe that sold thirty dollar salads in Wing City Plaza.

"By the way nice suit. I wear Armani too," Alyssa said as she flashed her own label inside her blazer. She turned her gaze outside the window and watched her beautiful city pass by.

"I know where it is. Maria brought me there before." He told Alyssa, "My boss and best friend." He added, "That's who Maria is. People hear the name and start asking if it's a lover or what have you." The man said.

"Maybe I need more male friends, yeah?"

Viktor made a turn that would send them on a mostly straight path towards the cafe. If traffic wasn't a bitch maybe they'd be there in no time at all.

"My uncle, Gustavo, he used to be a tailor. He got me into this clothing. Expensive and nice. Rubbed off on my sister too. She's going to be a model in Milan soon. America, maybe here on Terra if she plays her cards right." Viktor informed Alyssa.

"Too much about my personal life. How long have you been a P.I., signora?"

Alyssa almost caught herself asking more about his personal life but stopped herself. That was inappropriate. She fidgeted with the handles of her Loui.

"You're fine," she said to Viktor. "I have been a private investigator for almost a year now. I love it but it is far different from being a beat cop. Sometimes I miss my blues but the suits aren't all that bad." Alyssa reached into her pocket and pulled out a fancy white card. She placed it on the man's dashboard. It was a business card for The Private Eye; her company.

"If you ever need anything, an extra set of eyes or a consult on a case, you can call whenever you like," said Alyssa. There were also other things that he could have called her for but she kept those thoughts to herself.

"Your sister must be a beautiful woman," she commented to derail her thoughts.

"I'll be sure to give you a call." Viktor said, rounding a corner that would bring them into Wing City Plaza. "I miss it sometimes too, but... the money is better when you go private, and we aren't bound by civil rights for the most part. We dish out bad karma for bad people, yeah?" Viktor asked the woman beside him.

"My sister's grown into a beautiful woman these days. Not that she wasn't beautiful before. I think she is turning... 20 this year. I plan to bring her here for her birthday week. We'll go to Mass and then we'll party."

"I got into being a private investigator because it was difficult seeing my ex-husband in the station. Even when he was off on some adventure or crusade I could still sense his presence there. I had to get away from it. It's not easy being around someone you were falling in love with when they are completely wrong for you," Alyssa said to Viktor. She was now the one getting too personal with the man.

It was good therapy though to talk to a stranger about her odd relationships. If he passed judgment on her, so be it. They probably would never see each other again and Alyssa was fine with that.

"So I just had to get out of there, if you know what I mean," said Alyssa. She let out a sigh and posted her elbow up against the window. She rested her chin on her curled knuckles.

"So you used to be a cop too, huh?" asked Alyssa.

"Si, in Naples. I was a detective before long, I imagine because I showed some kind of promise that others didn't. I fought in Afghanistan, my old friend Ezio and I were probably the only ones on the force who went to war." He told Alyssa, "We learned things that came in handy on the force."

"I left a few years ago, but that's a story for another time, ma'am. I might tell it to you one day." The Italian told Alyssa, pulling up to the cafe slowly. "I'll be sure to give you a call if I need anything." Viktor said, reaching into a pocket to slip out a business car.

"My mobile number in on here, you can also call The Palace, it's where my 'office' is these days, and my boss, Maria Munroe, her number is on there. She tends to be the one who throws people my way if they can't find me any other way."

Alyssa took the card and slipped it into her blazer pocket. She smiled after turning to face the man. He truly was a striking and handsome fellow. It was a shame that she wasn't more confident. It probably would have been a disaster if she did flirt with him. A well off, well dressed, career man was never single in any capacity.

"Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it. Maybe we can grab a cup of coffee sometime," said Alyssa as she opened the sedan door. She slid out of the passenger seat and ducked down to give Viktor a parting smile.

"Having girls as friends isn't a bad thing. See you around, Vik," Alyssa said to him before she closed his car door.

Randin had been back on Terra for exactly twelve hours and thirty-eight minutes, during which time he'd managed to (in his opinion) get a remarkable amount of "welcome work" done. The precinct had been first, of course. Shaking hands and trading jibes with all his old office friends was the perfect kickoff to getting back into the groove of things, and he was pleased to discover that most of his coworkers had managed to keep themselves alive over the last six months. Kwong was there... that Asian bastard. Gave him a hell of a riot act for being gone so long; a thorough chewing-out that Randin was glad to receive. Getting in trouble was just one of the many things he'd missed while away. Besides, half a year WAS a long time, even for him.

Next came the office. Walking through that smoggy-glass door and back inside his work space for the first time in ages had been difficult... but once seated behind his oakwood desk, his mismatched files and cluttered collection of knickknacks still exactly he'd left them, Randin had felt like a new man. Whole. Complete. THIS was what he'd been missing for so long... the job. The duty. Now that he was here again, everything was going to be okay. God, there'd even been an unfinished cup of coffee by his lamp. A cup of six month old coffee. He nearly drank it.

Of course, not everything was as perfect as he'd of liked it. Maria was still gone, and for that, Randin was sad. The detective had hoped that the young officer would have found her way back home after a year on the streets. Apparently she was happier where she was now. Casey, the new WCPD chief, was also out of her office. Randin was still extremely unsure how he was going to approach that sensitive little subject. Yes, he wanted to see her. Yes, he wanted to congratulate her, to smile with her again, to do his very best to renew their friendship.

...but he knew better than to hope that things would just fix themselves over small talk and a few laughs. Their relationship at this point was strained at best, obliterated at worst. The last time he'd been with Casey, she'd come straight out of the operating room. Seeing her like that had been awful... broken, battered and pieced shakily together, like a shattered jigsaw puzzle glued back into place. Few things had brought Randin to such an emotional-low as that had.

It was also when he'd broken up with her.

Yeah. He could wait to see Casey for the time being.

The last face Randin had looked for and didn't find was that of Alyssa Justice. While the pretty young detective quit the force long before Randin had embarked on his spacefaring adventure, he'd still kept in close contact with the girl. Much as his pride hated to admit it, Alyssa had investigative talent that rivaled, if not surpassed his own. For this, he would often (very discretely) smuggle troubling case files in his bag whenever they met for lunch, procuring her unprofessional opinion on his next course of action. More often than not, her advice paid off, a fact that she reminded and teased him of whenever she could. Too smart for her own mouth...

All detective skills aside, Randin was friends with Alyssa. She had a gritty, down-to-earth way of handling business that he both respected and admired. She had a strong will as well, carrying on the face of tragedies that would have sent most cops on hiatus without pay. A damn good woman and a damn good cop. Randin liked Alyssa. He hadn't talked to her much once he'd gotten together with Casey. Come to think of it, it'd been a long time since he'd last scene Justice. That was a shame.

...the fact that they used to sleep together on occasion and had, at one point, been married had no bearing on his feelings towards her, of course...

Naturally, Randin was curious to learn that Justice had opened up her own investigate agency. He had a lot to catch up on with her. Why not start now? It was a fresh start for the young detective. He was determined to make the most of it and connect with as many of his old friends as he could.

As the detective left the precinct through a hail of goodbyes and well-intended cusses (a bottle of old scotch tucked under his arm, yet another one of the many things he needed to attend to), he fished his CADDY out of his pocket and found the number. Never good at the whole 'texting' thing, Randin opted to call her outright. Check up on her. It'd been a damn long time. That was normal, right? Just two old friends having a talk.

He swallowed hard against the jitters dancing around in his gut and put the phone to his ear as it began to rang. God, he was such a fucking girl sometimes.

What a day, Alyssa thought to herself. So much had happened that just went wrong. First the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and then the boot on her car. She had to catch a ride with a man that she hardly knew and was still late to conduct an interview for a new employee for her firm.

Things were just going peachy fine and were sure to get better as the day wore on as she headed toward the police station. Alyssa needed that boot off her car even if she had to pay all the damn parking tickets in Wing City. Most would go to the courthouse but Alyssa wanted to see if she could pull some strings first.

And that meant getting in touch with Randin Kaye.

Alyssa's phone chirped and she dug it out of her Loui Vuitton bag. Randin's name and a contact photo was on the screen. The woman's jaw nearly fell to the pavement her precious designer Louboutins stood on.

What a strange coincidence that he was calling her when just earlier that day Alyssa was having troubles calling him. She slid her finger across the screen and put it up to her ear.

"Hello, Randin," said Alyssa. "It's been a while since I last heard your voice." She laughed and stood two blocks down from the precinct with her arms crossed. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. It wasn't fair that he could do that to her.

It just wasn't fair.

This was a stupid place to meet up for an interview for a job offer. Completely and utterly stupid. And totally unprofessional. It put Brayden on edge immediately. They were out in the open, though it was a public place, indoors and bursting with people coming in to grab a bite to eat. Why had he agreed to meet her here? Why not at her offices? This was stupid to even begin with. Sitting in this stupid chair in this stupid cafe had being one giant mistake.

His dark eyes scanned the area for any threat. Nothing. Brayden couldn't relax his six foot four frame though. He sat awkward and tense, even as one of the waitresses came to take his order, he spoke awkwardly not even looking at her or the menu. She acted just as awkward back, only speaking once to ask him for his drink order as well before leaving. Leaving Brayden to continue to stare out the window waiting for the person that was going to interview him for the PI job.

Bray had to hide himself elsewhere. He couldn't be known or seen in any other work areas that he knew. But he still wanted to do something that he was good at rather than sit around his house all day and risk being found and killed, not that people could kill him easily anyway. Ten years as an undercover cop had him well trained for fights.

Brayden had seen and done everything. Crossed the line and crossed back again. He'd crossed, double-crossed and triple-crossed people without a second though. Undercover killed all thought processes and emotions. You did what you had to to get information and survive to gather more information.

And Bray had done it well.

He looked out the window once more, and saw the woman who he was supposed to be meeting. Great, a stuck up rich bitch was the one interviewing him. If he'd known that before he wouldn't have bothered coming. Maybe he could sneak out without her seeing him - he'd given in a picture along with his extensive resume. But it was busy enough to sneak out. The last thing he wanted was some snooty tooty, (no matter how hot she may or may not have looked) sitting at his table and grilling him in her Armani suit and designer bag.

Even so, Brayden didn't move from the table. If he didn't get this job, then he'd start searching for everything that wasn't involved with anyone that was designer and rich, that was for sure. This day couldn't get any fucking worse.