a/n: something short and sweet to keep things moving.
After a quick press conference, I drove home, a thick folder on my lap with the sheets inside yellowing with age.
It was fitting that Carmen had referred to this as our turning point. Though the general population had no idea why the brilliant detective turned kleptomaniac had left the Agency, I had always known this was the official reason.
I pulled up in front of my Mission apartment, not exactly ready to head upstairs. Instead, I opened the folder delicately, fingers running over typewritten facts gingerly. A paper-clipped 4x6 photo had worked it's way loose and fluttered to the floor, and I picked it up, greeted by the hard face of the man that had put fear in the hearts of many detectives.
He called himself the Falcon, the leader of a notorious organization with a penchant for murdering law enforcement that came too close for his liking. Carmen and I were the last two on this case, which had forced both of us undercover, and was the catalyst for the creation of VILE, the idea being to unite most of the bottom feeders Falcon attracted in fantastic yet harmless pursuits. It had worked, perfectly.
Or so I thought...
My phone buzzed, an unfamiliar number displayed on the screen.
"Devineaux." I answered, tentatively.
"That Detective of yours has come to." Her voice seemed as if it could never shake that teasing tone. "It might be in our best interest to start our efforts there just in case..."
"She's under tight security." I replied, not pleased with the implication being made. "But, you're right. The sooner we can get a start on this, the better."
"Should we meet there tonight?"
"Tonight is fine." I agreed, wondering how she planned to keep her identity clandestine.
"Perfect."