Okay. Let's hope this isn't a load of bullshit, because ain't nobody got time fo' that. Read, review, favorite and all that good shit, okay? Yes. Thank you, and do like my url says and have a great day! X
Coming to work the following day sucked. Firstly, I had been startled awake in the wee hours of the morning by a phone call. A shrill, piercing ring tone that shattered the reverie of a dream that I couldn't quite remember, and the gruff, angry voice of my captain rang into my ear drum. There had been another murder. A family of four, like the others. Two little girls, one of eleven and the other of only five. Shot and killed in the same way. The mother had been tied to the headboard of the bed, but this time, instead of just being mutilated then shot, she was raped, maimed and then killed.
The rape was a new development. He was getting more confident in his kills, even more so that before hand. We needed to catch this son of a bitch, and quickly. He had already murdered seven different families, all from different ethnicities, and separate parts of the boroughs in New York City; two in the Bronx, another in Brooklyn, one in Queens, another two here in Manhattan and the final, and most recent, in Staten Island. Although they were all in different jurisdictions, the state of New York realise that the NYPD is needed on this case.
I rolled out of bed and immediately went about starting my day. I skipped breakfast, settling only on a hot cup of bitter, sugarless coffee, which would always wake me up, although it was pretty gross to drink. After finishing my cup, I jumped straight in the shower, and started scrubbing away the previous day. I washed my hair, and quickly rinsed my body off. Wrapping a towel around my body, I padded out of my bathroom, and I went into my bedroom, and threw on a pair of clean, plain underwear, and two pairs of nude tights - learning from my mistake yesterday.
I pulled out a pair of deep navy peg leg trousers, and a button up cream blouse, along with another blazer, this time it was blisteringly red, coupled with a pair of red heels. I packed a pair of sneakers in my low-hanging dark coloured handbag, as I would everyday, and dropped it by the front door. After I smeared vanilla scented creams into my skin, I speedily went about brushing my teeth and washing my face, removing any trace of sleep or dirt from my skin, and went about dressing myself as quickly as I was able.
Stevenson ordered that I was up and ready in the office within the hour, and I knew better than to piss him off during a case, especially one as dangerous and emotionally trying as this. With this in mind, I began blow drying my hair, and running a comb through it simultaneously; thank God for being ambidextrous. I was done in minutes, and I threw my hair up in a high ponytail, however unlike yesterday, instead of it being curly like yesterday, it was near enough dead straight today. It was longer when I blow-dried it, and now, even though it was so high, it brushed the middle of my back in soft, honey waves.
I dressed myself very quickly, and as fast as I was able, I did my make-up; a thin layer of make-up and an even narrower swipe of liquid eyeliner, flaring out at the sides, to elongate my lids. I applied red matte lipstick, and a brush of bronzer on to my cheekbones, checking my phone soon afterwards. It had just gone 7:16am, and I internally groaned, cursing everyone who was able to sleep late today. I mean, come on, it's a fucking Wednesday - nobody should be able to sleep late in the middle of the week.
Before I stepped out of my apartment door, I took a moment to mentally scan through everything that I should have with me, and making sure I hadn't forgotten anything. My purse, manila folders, sneakers and phone were in my bag, and my train card was in my FBI badge, which was attached to my trousers, hidden snugly by my brightly coloured blazer.
I closed and locked my door behind me, and began the short walk to the train station, that would, once again, take me to my work place. I didn't own a car, I believed that they were ridiculously expensive as well as the traffic during the day was positively disgraceful. It took me just over five minutes to walk to the station, and the train arrived every ten minutes, leaving me with little over half an hour to get to work.
As I walked into the station, I saw that the train was docked, and I had to hobble towards it, catching it at the final moment, and sitting down in the nearest seat, directly next to the blessed radiator which, thankfully was vacant and clean. I enjoyed the rest of my fifteen minute train ride by reading the free New York Times that the train system offered to every passenger in little bassinets near every automatic door.
I had just finished a story, ironically enough, about the case I was on, and I had to admit, these paparazzo's seem to only ever get more creative with age. Apparently, this bastard had been dubbed the 'Midnight Murderer'. We hated labelling these sons of bitches, it always seemed to make the situation more comical, when in reality, it really fucking wasn't. It's pretty annoying, especially when you're trying to solve a case when the media is involved, especially so deeply.
Before I knew it, we had arrived at the stop I needed, and I left the train station, noticing the chilly air around me, and I grumbled a little to myself. Instead of catching the bus, I decided to walk the distance, as I knew waiting for it would only make me more late, and therefore more wrong in Stephenson's eyes. The journey from the train station to the NYPD central hub wasn't as long as I had thought, and I arrived within five minutes.
I checked my phone as I was in the elevator, and it read 7:47am. I was later than I would have liked, but either way, I was within the hour limit, and in that Stephenson better be happy. The elevator pinged, and I stepped out, only to walk straight into pure anarchy. Papers were being handed out, people were shouting and hollering, and I could almost feel Stephenson's glare from clear across the room. I shimmied out of my blazer, and hung it on the back of my chair as I passed it, and sashayed straight into his office.
"Sorry sir, I got here as fast as I could. How can I help out?"