Fighting Harvest

Prologue

Savannah City, is a place crawling with crime and illegal activity, a gold mine for police officials and inspiring detectives who are looking to make a change to the world. However the same could not be said for one stubborn detective. Anthony Weaver, best known for his botched investigations or unprofessional way of going through with his tasks, has taken it upon himself to bust one of the largest drug lords in this city. Held up in a tall company building, it would be a challenge to slip in, but Anthony had a plan.

The automatic door creaked open to reveal the large near empty room on the first floor, seeming to look like an average software company, though Anthony knew it was a disguise for what was going on behind these brick walls. Speaking of disguises, Anthony dressed as though he was a business partner for the big boss, otherwise known as Ivory.

Anthony wore a black button-up with matching slacks, as his shiny shoes tapped along the marble floors, announcing his presence to the few personnel who seemed to guard any major entrances to their lair. Glancing around behind Anthony's thick shaded glasses, he held a briefcase close to his hip, pretending to hold something of value within the case when in reality, it held counterfeit paper in hopes of exchanging it for powder.

Anthony approached one of the guarded men who stood posted beside the elevator, clearing his throat, he spoke up.

"I need to speak with Ivory" Anthony spoke carefully, peeking behind him to ensure he wouldn't be caught, either by guards or by the law.

"For what business? He's currently in a meeting" The guard explained, having not been informed of Anthony's arrival, or that his boss requested to speak to anyone matching Anthony's description.

"I'm here for a meeting as well-" Anthony pulled the briefcase into his arms, flicking open the locks as he partially showed off what was inside, not giving the guard much time to examine the fake money, but enough time to see exactly why he was there to begin with. "But I understand if he's busy, I could take my business elsewhere" Anthony shrugged as he locked the case back up, holding it down to his side as the guard raised his hand.

"He could fit you into the schedule, hmm.. floor 7" The guard pushed the elevator button with his elbow, keeping a close eye on Anthony as he was still weary about the whole situation, but after seeing that much cash.. counterfeit or not.. who was he to stop any potential business deals.

Anthony smirked as he nodded his head, his messy blond hair getting in the way of his face before he could push it back behind his ear. "Glad we could work this out" he thanked the guard, entering the elevator once the doors slid open. Anthony leaned back against the chilled metal wall of the confined elevator, his eyes scanning the room behind his glasses as he noticed a security camera propped up in the corner, pointed down at him to monitor his behavior. He was in the thick of it now, unable to drop his act, since doing so would certainly get him killed.

The elevator lifted slowly, the quiet ding sound was the only thing breaking the tense silence as he passed each floor, no doubt that every level in this building was used as decoration to mask the true corporation going on here, which resides on floor seven. The final ding rang out through the small room as the doors slid open, revealing a long hall decorated with pictures and memorabilia of Ivory, the dealer whom Anthony was here to meet.

Guards of course stared at Anthony as he left the safety, or what little safety there was, of the elevator, making his way down the carpeted hallway towards two large doors. Anthony kept his head held high, his posture proper as his legs carried him as far as they could go until he was stopped by yet another guard.

"Business?" One guard gruffed out, which made Anthony pause as he gave a look of annoyance.

"I've stated to the man below that I am here for a meeting with your boss" Anthony patted the briefcase by his side, his voice filled with poison in hopes to limit the amount of questions the guards would present him with.