Um, so...It's been a while *nervous laughter* I've been procrastinating for a really long time. But, I figured this would be a good time, since it's my best friend's birthday today! That, and it's Valentine's Day, but meh. Happy Birthday, IceDynamiteDragonflyStars! You guys should go check out her stuff, she's an awesome writer and her fanfictions are amazing!

CHAPTER 1

The frigid water splashed against her leg, stinging like sharp needles.

Several black-clad figures sped through the damp and cold streets, gray snow slashing at their faces. The engines roared in their ears and the adrenaline pounded in their veins. Hot breath puffed into the air, creating a fog in their vision. Still, they kept their eyes trained on the figure ahead. It was their only goal. Their only purpose in the world at that moment. People dashed away from the middle of the streets, watching with bug-eyed fear and slack jaws. Children clung to their mothers in fear and onlookers watched in steely curiosity. Sirens wailed, piercing the dim morning air.

Blue and red lights swirled from on top of the police cars, lighting up the dark streets of London.

"Pull over, Dude!" A large, boisterous man from the biggest of the black automobiles called out through a megaphone. The golden gears of the police car hummed and roared, puffing out steam from within the machine. His American accent cut through the rough winds, screeching like nails on a chalkboard. The man's corn-yellow hair was wet from the gray slate coming down rapidly, his cowlick lashing around in the wind from under his officer's cap. His voice sounded cheerful enough, but there was a dagger-like glare to his sky blue eyes. "Dude, get the fuck off the road!"

A woman in her late twenties rolled her eyes, letting out a loud groan. No one could hear her through the howling wind, though that was a good thing in her case. Her razor-sharp gaze was focused on the man in front of them. Baron of Cornwall. Murdered his wife and his two daughters for insurance money. Hired. Hired someone to kill them. There was no way he could've done it himself. The bastard couldn't even touch a piece of raw chicken; there was no way he could kill a person. It was a messy case, too. It had probably been a multi-person job. Mother tried to shield her children. The woman felt her throat tighten. She watched the man tremble in front of her, and she suspected that it wasn't just because of the cold.

Something was strange about all of this. Baron Fucktard had never driven a vehicle, let alone a bike, before. It was amazing that he hadn't crashed yet. It was amazing that they hadn't snatched him yet.

"Amazing…" The blonde woman frowned, watching the way the Baron moved. His left fingers were twitching uncannily. Her eyes widened in realization, watching as his body twitched in certain places. Almost as if it was flickering. That was it. "This slimy little fucker." She hissed under her breath.

She glanced one last time at the police troupe. Alfred – the man who was still screaming into the megaphone –would never hear her over the winds and himself. And besides, she couldn't allow any other people finding out what she knew. No, she had to settle this alone.

She sighed, slowing down from the group. As soon as they were barely an inch ahead of her, she swerved the bike to the left, and straight down a dark alleyway. Her arm slammed against the wall. She bit down on her lip and ignored it, focusing on steering through the narrow, trash-ridden alley.

The flashes of gray and brick went past her eyesight.

The Baron was an idiot, that had been established long before the detective had even inherited the case. However, he wasn't a total idiot. Or, at the very least, he'd been an idiot in all of the right places. At all of the right times. The Detective had suspected that he was up to something; had suspected that this hadn't just been a simple "hire-to-kill" job. And the fact that his left fingers were twitching like that only confirmed her suspicions. She braced herself for the sharp turn and barely missed ramming straight into the rusty flat stairs. Her coat ripped and flesh was exposed to the stinging air.

The blonde biker could've sworn that she heard some person screech from behind her.

She focused on the maze of alleys. Unlike the Baron, she had been through this neighborhood quite a few times before. Ribbington street. Infamous for crimes of all types and home to most of the warehouse workers nearby.

Never mind, she thought, catching the sight a makeshift cardboard box home. It had been the home of the warehouse workers.

The woman smirked; she knew exactly where to go. She slammed on the gas pedal.

XXX

The police officer looked down from the snow covered hill.

Her Kelly green eyes focused on the old building below her, feeling a twist of excitement that shouldn't have been there. Her walkie-talkie crackled, static filling the tense air around her. She looked at it, indifferently. It'd be about time, now.

"… Whe…re the fuck… are you…?" Alfred's pissed voice came, breaking up over the line.

Good. They were close enough, then. She pressed the copper button. "Get on Ribbington and find the abandoned warehouse. Go through the back alley with the creek nearby." She clicked her walkie-talkie back into the bike. We can't have these fuckers getting away, now can we?

Alice's sharp gaze focused on the old warehouse below. It old building, five levels high and covered in at least an inch of rust and soot. All along the breadth of the building were small windows, most shattered and the rest cracked. Graffiti marked the walls, twisting in ugly and dark curves.

The woman remembered the day that the warehouse had closed down.

It had been Alfred's first case as captain of the 7th Division and had his whole team called in to try and prevent the disgruntled ex-employees from destroying the warehouse. Obviously, Alfred had failed in that respect. No one really cared, though, so it was a minor blemish on his career.

The woman spotted a dark car come into view. A van of some sort, to be precise. The woman watched it pull into the warehouse yard and eventually hide behind the view of the old building. She huffed and turned off her bike. Her legs buzzing from the hum of her bike, the woman quickly hopped off. She put the bike – Bloody Mary, as she liked to call it – into park. The policewoman jerked the helmet off of her head.

The cold air rushed into her and she shut her eyes on reflex as the ash-colored snow attacked her face.

"Damn it," She hissed. Her bright green eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the bright light. The woman wasn't wearing the typical police uniform of a somewhat unhealthy mix of black leather and buckles. She swore that whoever designed the uniforms had a fetish of some sorts. She hugged her chestnut brown trench coat closer to her small frame, shivering slightly. Her combat boots – the one thing she liked about the uniform – crunched the slush and hail mix underneath her feet. Her golden badge glinted from on her maroon blouse.

Inspector Kirkland.

She sighed, hot breath puffing into the air. The wail of the sirens was like a distant whisper. She knew that they'd be here soon. But not soon enough. Kirkland sighed one more time and jumped into the ravine.

XXX

Kirkland slipped away to the warehouse, careful not to step on any glass or metal.

Her body shivered under her paper thin coat. She really needed a new one. An open doorway was at the side of the building, looking as if someone had wrestled it off and part of the actual building had crumbled off as well. Spray-painted brick crumbled at the touch, causing Kirkland to flinch away. The inspector grumbled something incoherent and wiped her hands on her old coat.

It was an old warehouse, after all.

She remembered her father saying that it had been old before he and her mother had moved to London. She couldn't exactly remember what had happened, but essentially, the warehouse owners had been terrible at taking care of their equipment and their employees. That was one reason why the place looked as if she had walked into an antique waste yard. But, if she remembered correctly, there had been several deaths caused by the lack of care to the machines.

Accidents, yes, but the Labor Union had gone nutters over the fact and demanded that the owners get off their fat asses and do something about it. The owners didn't listen and the Union ended up taking their problem to the Mayor.

The Mayor, of course, wanted nothing to do with the problem and after arguing with both the Union and the owners for a few months just ordered the warehouse to be shut down.

The female inspector walked through the building, but no sense of warmth came. Of course not, the place was practically just framework, at this point. Wires and wrenches and old tools crunched under her feet as she walked through the building. Thick dusted seemed to cover every inch of the building. Snow and slush were nearly everywhere, as well. She marched through the building, looking at the smashed lights overhead as she went.

The cold wind howled through the skeleton of what had once been a prosperous place. The warehouse shuddered harshly. Kirkland looked up, frowning deeply. She did not need the building come down on her right now. Huffing, the grumpy policewoman trudged up a fleet of stairs, not caring that she wasn't being all that quiet. The woman must've gone up about three more fleets and two abandoned floors until she finally reached her destination.

"Hey, jackasses." She called out, deadpanning. "The whole point of a bloody hologram is to distract the police from your real location. Not to tell me where you are."

The three men whipped around to gawk at her. Guess she hadn't been that loud.

"Of course, it's you." The middle one glared at her. Gray-tinted and sagging skin and the body of a beanpole.

Her eyebrow raised. "If it isn't Inspector Gosling." She shrugged, nonchalantly. "Can't say I'm surprised, though."

"You wouldn't understand," Gosling said.

She snorted, coming closer to the trio. She didn't miss the way that the Baron was trembling. "There are easier ways to get money than murdering two innocent children and their mother." Her glare sharpened, like flint. "And you, Baron Dipshit, I'm not even going to start on you. Just know that I will personally make sure you pay for what you did."

"A wonderful job you've done with it, huh?" The third one spoke. Mr. Lennox, the Baron's gardener or some shit. "It's taken the stupid police two months to find out about us. And even now they still haven't found out that they're chasing after a hologram."

Kirkland chuckled darkly. "That's because Jones and I only just got this case two days ago. Do you gormless twats really think that you're so clever?" She barked out a laugh. "The only reason you three have gotten this far is because you've had Gosling covering your tracks and incompetent officers after you."

The police sirens wailed, signaling them that Alfred had finally arrived.

She sighed. "Oh, well. I was hoping to have a bit more time with you three, but this'll do." Kirkland cracked her knuckles, grinning darkly.

XXX

"Alice?"

The woman – Alice Kirkland – looked up from the pile of men. "How long did it take you to realize that it was a hologram?"

Alfred's face darkened. "Longer than it should have." The remaining police officers stormed up the stairs, only to find their criminals lying in a beaten pile of shame. "What happened here?"

She shrugged. "There was a fly on their face."

"A fly in this weather? Not even a polar bear would be out here right now."

"Quite peculiar, isn't it?"

"…And all three of them had flies on their face?"

"What a strange world we live in."

Alfred stopped one of the police officers. They were carrying the Baron. Alfred took his patriotic, humming, metal arm and swung it into his stomach. Alice raised an eyebrow.

"Fly." Was all that Alfred said.

She shook her head. "One of these days, you're going to get in trouble."

He snorted, looking her up and down. "Maybe, but my boyfriend's a lawyer. If I get in trouble, Ivan can bail me out of it." Alfred said, "You, however, your boyfriend's going to kill you when he sees you."

Dread knotted in her stomach. That was right. Francis. "Point taken."