RUSTED IRON BARS. Creaking windows. Muffled voices. Screaming children. Concrete floors. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights.
The trio climbed the stairs at an unhurried pace, boots echoing against the worn concrete.
"Look what the cat dragged in," a man in a battered leather jacket drawled, grinding his cigarette under his heel as Jenny, Meredith, and Idra stepped onto the third-floor landing.
His eyes swept over the group with lazy amusement before settling on Jenny. His mouth curved, not in a smile but in something sharper. "Didn't think an upriser would come crawling back to her humble roots."
Jenny's jaw flexed. "Still breathing, Jones? I figured your brother would've done everyone a favour by now."
Jones smirked, flicking ash from his cuff. "Still slumming it with us low-class types, sixer? I thought you'd dropped those grand delusions years ago." His gaze dipped, just for a second, to the scar peeking from her collar.
Her hand tightened on the stairwell railing. "Fuck you, Jonesy."
He leaned in just enough for her to catch the stale smoke on his breath. "Already tried, sweetheart. You weren't my type."
Jenny's eyes narrowed. She shouldered past him without slowing. "Follow me, Kenny. Grayson."
"Bringing rookies to a crime scene? Looks like the rumours were true," Jones chuckled low in his throat.
Jenny didn't look back as she stomped along.
His laughter followed them down the corridor, scraping along the walls like rusted wire.
They reached the end of the hallway, Jenny shoving open a door sealed with yellow tape. Inside, a uniformed officer stood guard, offering them a curt nod as they entered.
Meredith and Idra exchanged a glance before stepping inside.
The stench hit instantly - rot, iron, and something far worse.
"Chao, just in time," came a voice from the corner. A bald man with deep shadows under his eyes straightened from a crouch. He held an old-fashioned camera in gloved hands, his white forensic suit smudged with dust.
Light leaked through the half-closed shutters, cutting the room into thin slices of gold and shadow.
The man passed his camera to a young woman - likely his assistant - who acknowledged them before stepping away. His brows arched as he noticed Idra and Meredith.
"Brought the kids out to play, huh?"
"Can it, Stephen," Jenny snapped.
Stephen lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Touchy."
"What's the verdict?"
He simply pointed to the far wall.
Blood smeared in thick arcs. Splintered bone fragments scattered across the floor. Strips of flesh clinging to cracked plaster.
Meredith's eyes burned.
She turned and bolted for the door, retching into the overflowing bin just outside.
"Boots never seen a real scene before?"
Stephen asked, his tone almost curious.
Jenny glanced at Meredith's trembling back, then at Idra.
Idra shrugged.
Jenny pinched the bridge of her nose. "Take Meredith. Canvas the area. Question the neighbours. Check for any working CCTV. Just - " she looked at the girl again, annoyance flickering in her eyes " - get her out of here, Kenny."
"Got it, Detective," Idra said, accepting the order before slipping out the door.
"Now tell-"
The door shut behind him, cutting off whatever Jenny had been about to say. Stephen's voice vanished with hers, leaving only the hallway's stale air.
Meredith blinked hard, stomach roiling. Heat burned in her throat and eyes, her heart thudding painfully. She wiped her mouth and muttered, "I embarrassed myself, didn't I?"
"It depends how you look at it, kid," Idra replied, giving her a firm pat on the back.
"She's never going to answer my questions now," Meredith's voice wavered. "I won't even get a shot at being her junior. She'll just think I'm some third-circle girl who's not cut out-"
"Kid, I think you'll get it," Idra cut in, leaning against the peeling wall and mining his nose with deliberate laziness. "You're the only one gutsy enough to go after it."
"First impressions matter, Idra," she murmured, eyes downcast. "And I probably-"
"Alright, enough moping like you just got blue-balled. We've got canvassing to do." Idra grabbed her by the collar and hauled her forward.
"Wait-"
He dropped her beside him and knocked on the first door next to the crime scene. "Sector Police! Anyone inside?"
Meredith tugged at her shirt, straightening it.
Silence.
They exchanged a glance and moved to the next door.
Nothing.
The third. The fourth. The fifth.
All silent.
The sixth one opened, revealing a darkness.
Meredith glanced down.
A young girl stared back up at her. Skinny, pale with dull brown eyes and mattered red hair.
"Hi kid," Idra greeted, waving his hands. "Are your parents home?"
"No," the girl said, glancing at him. "They're out. Scavenging."
"Do you know when they'll be back?" Meredith asked, her voice taking a motherly tone. "We just want to ask some questions."
The young girls face scrunched. "Is it about the dead hag up the hall?"
Idra coughed.
Meredith bit her lip. "Yes. We'd like to know about her."
The girl glanced past them, toward the window, where the wasteland stretched out.
"I don't know anything." She shook her head and slammed the door.
Meredith lifted her hand to knock again, but Idra caught her wrist and shook his head.
"Kid's not talking, Grayson."
"Why not?"
"Fear," he said simply, glancing at the door before moving on. "Locals here don't trust us. According to them, murder doesn't happen - only suicides or sickness."
He paused, giving her a pointed look. "And if they do believe it's murder, they're afraid of retaliation."
"Retaliation?"
"Gangs," he responded flatly. "Murder's their calling card. If they didn't do it, they'll make you wish they had."
He rapped on the last door. "Sector Police. Anyone home?"
The door's handle creaked, turning just enough for the panel to crack open.
Idra's brows knitted. He motioned for Meredith to hold back, raising his voice. "Sector Police! Anyone home?"
The gap widened, and a wave of putrid air rolled out, thick enough to sting the back of their throats. Idra's nose wrinkled.
"Stay back," he ordered, already unfastening his holster. In one smooth motion, his weapon was drawn. "Sector Police-entering!"
He slipped inside, moving with the careful precision of someone who'd done this too many times before. The beam of his flashlight cut through the gloom, sweeping over overturned furniture and dust-thick surfaces.
He froze in what looked like a lounge room.
"Meredith."
"Yeah, Kenny?"
"Go get the Detective," Idra said, voice flat.
"We've got another body."