The brisk cold air of a morning in New York hit the young detective's lungs. It was New York, in the middle of a frosty winter, what could you have expected when you walked out the door? She wrapped her jacket around her thin form tightly before heading down the sidewalk. It was a normal day, so far. Murder scenes in the early sunrise.
The economic drop or the fact that everybody was out of money these days was a likely cause. Though, the detective could wonder, why was she always dragged out so early? Sure, she clearly wasn't a morning person, due to the fact that she had stubbed her toe in the morning when walking blindly. It was now a morning routine for her. Though, it was still a pain to walk around without a thicker jacket.
Michelle Demming was not a person of interest. Not to the naked eye anyhow. She wasn't the typical type of designer by day and cop by night; her life style was more complex and elaborate than that. Being a cop and a fashion designer was not the easiest of lifestyles, but she owned the family company after her aunt passed away.
She didn't need to wake up any earlier than she wanted, not if she wasn't a cop. Michelle had a sketchy past, and that was the fact that made her New York's most famous detective. She didn't need anymore attention since she was a fashion designer, and it made her life less oblivious than it already was.
Michelle stopped by an old coffee shop that she went to daily. Either it was the taste of the coffee, or maybe it was the fact that it was only a walk away from her apartment, she visited everyday. She quickly ordered a simple latte with whip cream. Her mother had always called her a food junkie, and unfortunately it was true.
She peeled back the cheap plastic lid and found that she hadn't yanked the lid back far enough, so half of the lid was still attached to the cup. With skilled hands, she tipped the cup so she could drink the warm caffeine filled beverage while walking briskly. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought ahead if she were to bump into someone this early in the morning due to the fact that she was sleep deprived. Michelle could now blame the murderer for making her spill fresh hot coffee all over her white shirt, and murder someone at three in the morning.
"I-I'm sorry ma'am! I didn't see you there." The young man said while stuttering. She looked up at his face tiredly. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at her fearfully.
"It's okay. I wasn't thinking straight, since I'm so tired." She gave a reassuring, yet tired smile. He brightened up a bit.
"Once again, I'm sorry. My name's Kain Fuery. I work for the ah-" He didn't complete his sentence. "Sorry, I can't say who I work for. Unless your part of the government." Michelle gave another forced smile and flashed out her police badge.
"Is being a police officer enough for you, Mr. Fuery?" He gave a big grin. "I'm pretty sure I've heard of you before. Don't you work with Roy Mustang and Edward Elric? Those two in the military?"
Instantly, his face became...duller. "Yeah. That's who I work with." He said blandly. Michelle looked at him intently, her cerulean eyes meeting Fuery's dark ones.
"Well. I think it's respectful to be working for the military, Sergeant Fuery." Michelle said kindly. "Is something wrong?" Fuery pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"No. It's nothing, I suppose." Fuery was suddenly focusing on his shoes very intently. "How did you know I was a sergeant, anyway?" Michelle could feel that Fuery was hiding something important, maybe not to her, but it was surely something. It was clear, because he was changing the subject.
"Fuery, you seem like a kind man. Maybe we should meet again sometime?" She asked. His eyes shot up from the ground. "And I know, because your badge is showing."
"Oh, I should fix that." He pulled his jacket around himself tightly. "R-Really? You mean it? About us meeting again?" He asked. She gave him another reassuring smile.
"I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. This girl here, is faithful one-hundred percent." Michelle took out a white paper card with purple writing on it. "See you again? Call me after seven." She winked and walked off, her shoes clicking against the snow covered pavement. Fuery stared at the card and sincerely felt happy that he finally had a friend outside the military.
AT THE CRIME SCENE
Shoes once again clicking against the cold pavement, Michelle Demming arrived at the crime scene, only she was fifteen minutes late. Her white crisp shirt having a heavy brown stain on its front. The medical examiner was still inspecting the body, checking over for bruises and scars. Two other detectives stood near a park bench, talking in hushed voices. Like always, everyone was busy, double checking their facts, and scanning the area.
"Morning, detectives." She said cheerfully despite the happy mood spiraling in a downward motion. The two detectives looked at Michelle, forgetting their original conversation.
"Morning, Detective Demming." They said simultaneously, then glancing at each other before looking back at the famous detective.
"I'd go get you a warm coffee, only if you weren't already dressed in yours." Detective Greg Jackson said all the while smiling innocently. Michelle punched him in the arm playfully.
"What do you got for me, Montrose?" Michelle asked. The said detective pulled out a small notepad and began reading the notes over.
"Australian male, around thirty to forty-five, found right here in the park." He said. "Fleur will tell you the rest from there." Michelle walked closer to inspect the body and crime scene.
"Cause of death?" She asked seriously.
"Blunt force trauma to the head. All I can say, that this case will be weird, Michelle." The ME said suspiciously.
"Huh? What do you mean?" She asked, clueless to what she had said. Finally taking in the view of the crime scene without being exhausted, there were scorch marks scattered on the ground, as if they were caused by lighting. "Oh. I see."
"If that wasn't weird enough, he's got these weird tattoos on his hands." The ME lifted the victim's hand, showing some odd cult-like designs plastered on them. The detective nodded and placed a hand to her chin, contemplating a motive and reason. Suddenly noticing the small military tag stitched onto the man's shirt, she furrowed her brow in confusion. Dismissing it, Michelle walked away and went back to Jackson.
"Let's head back to the precinct on twelfth and set up a murder board. Maybe I can bring in a friend who works for the military to help out." Michelle said while winking. They clambered into a random vehicle and began their departure for the Twelfth Precinct.
AT THE TWELFTH PRECINCT
Everyone shuffled files of paperwork and were busy hustling around the normally busy precinct. It wasn't a coincidence that those odd marks were there. Michelle yanked out her cell phone and dialed the military office. On three rings, a man answered the phone.
"Hello. May I speak to Kain Fuery? Immediately, this is Detective Michelle Demming." She said briskly. The man went silent for moment, and she heard a beep.
"Hello? Who is this?" A somewhat familiar voice asked.
"It's that girl you bumped into this morning. Could you come down to the Twelfth Precinct? I got a few questions for you." She heard Fuery speaking to his commanding officer, and then returning to the phone.
"Sure, ah-what's your name? I'm sorry I didn't ask before." Michelle could almost imagine the shy young man rubbing the back of his head with the receiver clutched tightly in his pale hands.
"It's Michelle Demming. Come down soon, okay?" The detective felt like she was talking to a small child, though then again, Fuery looked about the same age or slightly younger than her, so it didn't make much of a difference.
"Yeah, I'll have to bring another pal of mine. Is that okay?" He asked doubtfully. Michelle laughed lightly at his nervousness.
"It's fine, just come down soon. This is for a case I'm working on." She said a quick goodbye and hung up. Michael Montrose and Jackson came into the room with wide smirks plastered on their faces.
"Who was that, detective?" Montrose asked mischievously, his eyebrows moving up and down suggestively. Jackson snickered and punched Montrose playfully in the forearm.
"Yeah, Demming. Was that your boyfriend? We'd sure like to meet him." Jackson asked, barely holding in his laughter. Michelle laughed sarcastically.
"Ha-ha. Very funny. Now, you two boys run along now, Mommy has some work to do." Michelle retorted. They both pouted and stomped away dramatically. Michelle smirked and continued her paperwork. Captain Ericson walked over to Michelle's desk.
"Why in the name of god, would you call the military?" He asked sternly.
"Our victim, he's part of the military. Plus, I know a guy, and I thought he could help us out." The captain nodded briskly and went back to his office. The daily life of a cop was not very charming. Paperwork day and night, heading out to catch criminals, and the worst of all, having to talk to the victim's family. If they even had any to consider.
Michelle heard the creak of the door, and two pairs of heavy boots stomping against the precinct floors. Her head shot up from her desk as she heard the heavy steps coming closer. Letting out a sigh of relief when she saw Fuery, she put her pen down on the desk and took a sip of her coffee. Fuery was giving a small smile as he walked through the offices.
"Hello, Fuery. Glad you could come. Who's the kid behind you?" The 'kid' was wearing a heavy hood, looking down at the floor. When referred to as kid by Demming, he noticeably flinched.
"Oh, this is Edward Elric. He works with me on my team along with Roy Mustang." He nudged the boy next to him. In a hushed whisper, Fuery said, "Ed, say hi. Gosh, you're not yourself today." Edward's head came up slowly, though the heavy hood only allowed the visible sight of his gleaming yellow eyes that were...unnatural. It made shivers go up the detective's spine.
"Hey." He said shortly. She smiled widely.
"Hello, Edward. Nice to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you from the tabloids." Michelle said kindly. Edward's response was a cold stare, completely void of emotion. It scared the detective, because the way that boy was acting, was guilty. It didn't make sense, but as a job requirement, everyone looked like a murderer to her. The psychology of a guilty person or crime was simple, it looked like an accident. This victim's murder, it wasn't a mere accident. That much was for sure, and until she could get a name on the victim, everything would be kept in the dark.