Live Fast, Die Young (MelloxREADER)

On Arrival

As you gingerly step on to the platform, a strange flutter in your heart occurs, catching you by surprise. What is it about New York that seems so full of promise? You've been here many a time, your sister lives towards the north and you are both very close. However, you aren't visiting family members; you simply don't have the time. No, you are here for one purpose only. Your job requires it.

You tend to feel out of place in plain clothes. Of course, if you turned up in a suit of sorts, there was no way you would be able to convince them, and that will be hard as it is. You secretly prayed that you would somehow be replace (you didn't care much for how) but nothing turned up in your favour. If anything, the fact that your close colleague and friend, Naomi Misora had been missing a whole month after her fiancée's death meant a  vacancy in which you were brutally shoved into, against your protests. Apparently, there was no time to lose. Especially with Kira.

This case was almost like a side order on the large three-course meal in which the Kira investigation was served as. Although by getting this done, you were told, the Kira investigation would certainly move quicker. That may be true, but you can't help but continue doubting the opinion of those above you. After all, given the rash promotion, you have no experience with front-line work. You certainly aren't like Naomi, that's for sure.

< Ma'am, can I help you at all? >

You snap out of your thoughts, realising to your utter embarrassment that you are still dreamily standing on the edge of the platform, despite the train having left a good few minutes ago. Your cheeks heat up and you look down at your shoes, avoiding the gaze of the friendly-looking platform porter. Not a good start. You mutter that you're fine and you stumble past, holding the straps of your backpack tightly like a young schoolgirl. You feel like one too.

Scrambling for coins in your pocket, you look apologetically towards the other commuters. You can hear them tut and murmur, which makes you wince. You aren't used to such irritation from others - a little naive, perhaps, but you still feel an urge to yell at them. Not that you do. After all, what would that achieve? Besides, you are trying not to bring attention to yourself...

You shuffle alongside the others onto an equally busy street, glancing quickly at the towering skyscrapers that appear to be leaning over the crowds like the older girls did to you when you were younger. You shrug that memory off almost immediately and hail a taxi, sliding into the passenger seat quickly before you drown within the sea of people. Downtown, please.

< You sure? A pretty little lady like yourself would want to go Downtown on a nice day like this? >  

The driver cackles and you feel yourself getting anxious. After all, even thinking about telling him would be frowned upon, let alone doing so. I... can't say. Blushing, you look down at your hands. The driver winks at you in what may have been supposedly comforting, but instead makes you feel on edge.

< Oh, you're one of those mysterious types, aren't you? I should have known...>

Another onslaught of chortling from the driver occurs before you finally begin to drive away. You have never really trusted taxi drivers; perhaps it was their lack of concern for your own comfort and their streetwise personas. However, you have no choice but to sit next to him as he steers the yellow cab out of the busy city and into the murkier depths of the dangerous area.

Unlike your initial assumption, Downtown New York certainly isn't filled with knife-wielding hooded thugs or other dangerous individuals. If anything, it appears to be incredibly isolated, with buildings boarded over and litter carelessly thrown around. Ten minutes away from your location, you thank the driver and pay him the exact change, despite knowing that he ought to have had a tip. 

You find yourself walking down the street quietly, although there is no need to. The taxi has driven off and now, with no one else, the idea of what you are about to do is slowly becoming reality. You continue until you are at the warehouses, where you have been told he is. Taking a step forward, you are suddenly aware of your pacing heart. You can still turn around now, can't you? You can still walk away before it's too late...

Suddenly, you see a figure in the distance and, having studied him for months now, you know undoubtedly; this is Mihael Keehl.