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Aster

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"My apologies, officer. Have a good night." The white tiger walked away, and as far as Will Travers was concerned, that was a good thing. That tiger had the most intense glare he had ever seen, as if prolonged subjection to his leer might steal one's soul. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had been holding his breath for the entire encounter. "Travers!" the voice of his partner cut through the turbulent air and drilled into his brain; he reacted immediately, running over to the tall bull.Damn, this guy is huge; never gonna get used to that.

"Ye-yes, uh, what now, Peterson?"

"Come on, SAU's cleared the apartment."

"Already?"

"Yea, it's their job."

"But, what about--"

"Follow."

Peterson left for the apartment building's entrance with such haste that he practically pulled Adams with him in his wake. The massive detective was almost twice the size of the newly christened "Investigator William Travers," a fox who only ever knew how to keep out of the way. And as the commanding bull pushed through the other police personnel outside of Apartment 114, Will followed close enough to squeeze past the others without touching them but not so close as to bump into Peterson should the huge bull stop suddenly.

The odd pair entered the apartment and were greeted with the body of a black cat; his corpse was fresh. Travers chimed in, "Is this the guy? Half his face is missing..." Peterson leaned over the corpse while resting his hands on his knees. The bull examined the blood-matted fur and the shattered head of the black cat before him. He let out an odd sound, like a mixture of a huff and a sigh, "Yea, this is the guy, Franklin Arelli. Little shit punched out before we could get to him." Peterson glanced at the magnum in Frank's paw and let out a short chuckle, "Gotta hand it to him though, must'a had some balls. I sure as hell couldn't have pulled the trigger on that thing. Would'a had someone do it for me." At this, he made his laugh more apparent, and Will just smiled nervously, responding to Peterson's mood, "Didn't even need his other glass of whiskey for it either." This time, they both managed a very real laugh.

Frank had been one terrible trouble to catch. The black cat had been hired to kill some key gang members testifying in several court cases, a corporate executive who was becoming a little too successful, and a rather promiscuous housewife--among others, but when one of the victim's cubs was able to snap a picture of him with her phone, the cat chose to flee instead of dealing with her, which was a mistake for him. Will reassured himself that even murderers had their limits_._ He stared at Frank's mangled skull, and he believed in that moment, even though he had been unable to arrest that "son of a bitch"--as Peterson would say, justice had taken it's course. His first _serious_case had ended in a suicide. It had been a long and difficult road for a him, and despite Frank's employers still being out there--somewhere, Will managed to feel relieved.

Peterson turned to an officer next to him, "Get a body bag up here and be careful. I want to make sure this sack a' shit doesn't get a proper burial until his corpse has told us everything it knows... Travers!"

"Yep?"

"Shift's over in 30, wanna' grab a coffee before gettin' back to the station?"

"Sure thing, um, just let me finish my report, here..."

"Aw hell, write the report later. Coffee, now."

"Right, uh, you got it."

Despite some remnants of apprehension which seemed to him as if they lingered on his every word, Will was actually becoming more calm in his new position; he scolded himself for not remembering that he was now Peterson's coworker. Only a few months ago, he had been working a type of limbo between street duty and desk work, but after proving his investigative abilities several times throughout his career, he found himself promoted to a crime investigation position within the Aster Police Department. He was immediately assigned to Case 0981OC3125, which had just ended in Apartment 114 of The Views. Despite his skittishness Will had grown to like Peterson's careless attitude and aggressive demeanor; there was something to be desired in it--being able to say and do whatever you wanted and caring little about the consequences. This case had brought Will and Peterson into a bond of trust that only partners in law enforcement could forge, even if his new friend tended to occasionally muscle his little-fox partner out of the picture.

"Let's get outta this shithole, Travers, fuckin' roaches everywhere." Peterson grunted this, but Will noticed that the bull looked at a few of the worried neighboring-tenants when he spoke. Once again, Peterson left so quickly that Will could not help but follow him. The odd pair made their way back out of the building and to Peterson's car, an unmarked Aster police cruiser; Will got in the passenger seat and felt the car sink as Peterson eased himself into the driver's side. "Damn." Will remarked to the bull, "Why don't you have an SUV by now? This car feels like it's gonna give up the ghost every time you hop in." "You callin' me a fat ass?" Peterson seemed genuinely angry, but when the car's springs creaked, Will found the courage to assert himself, "Not me, but judging by the ungodly sounds this car makes when you're in it, I think _it's_the one callin' you a fat ass." Peterson glared at Will for a moment, before he managed a hoarse laugh, "Wow, looks like the fox might have male parts after all...coffee?" "Hell yes." Will replied. He let a victorious grin form across his face as he began to fill out his report forms.

The ride was bumpy to say the least; his partner immediately turned on the lights and sirens of the cruiser to cut through traffic. While Peterson was focused on the road, Will couldn't help but wonder at the blur of lights around him, not just from the police cruiser, but from the city. Perhaps this was because he had just looked up from his reports and was dazed momentarily by the motion around him, but something about the buildings and the cars and the people which comprised his surroundings seemed beautiful. He could hear the rush and roar of the wind outside of the cruiser as they merged onto the city's inner highway. He could see the lights stretching before him like an interminable vortex of colors and shapes, the buildings glistened like towering crystalline spires separated by great chasms of motion and the people of the city filled them with life and strength and purpose. These were the results of million of hours of work and dedication, and Will believed this was something to be proud of.

Sure, he understood that the chaos of each individual's routine colliding with a thousand other factors could create trouble--he saw it every day, but he was filled with awe at the sight of it all. This city was gargantuan and frantic and terrible, but it was also beautiful that such a thing could exist without a rapid and perilous deconstruction. Everyone knew their place. Everyone had a mission, and no matter how lost the strangers in this city could seem, one always felt that they had a sense of where they were going, even if they themselves couldn't quite articulate it. Will imagined that he had a purpose too; he felt it within him--and perhaps, he sensed that he could be fulfilling that purpose even now.

The two investigators arrived at a small coffee shop on the rim of the city's central district, an otherwise meaningless storefront were it not for its value to them.