Leo entered the room without a word, dragging the chair across the floor deliberately, making that unsettling, ear-piercing screech. He positioned the chair closer to Miranda, his eyes locked on her, then sat down. I followed suit, pulling the coffee table toward me and lowering myself onto it. The tension in the room was thick, and Miranda's fear was starting to show; she could feel the pressure as we closed in, both of us on edge and pushing hard.
"What was it that Alisha wanted to talk to you about?" Leo demanded, his tone sharp and cold, skipping the usual formalities.
"W—what?" Miranda stammered, startled.
"Don't answer the question with another question, Miranda."
Her face twitched, a mix of nerves and confusion, before she quickly masked it, her expression turning neutral. "Oh… you must've talked to Jeremy, Alisha's landlord, right? She tells him everything…"
Leo wasn't having it. "Miranda, again, another question…"
She faltered, then sighed in defeat. "Okay, yes… she wanted to talk to me about something important. She was looking for a man to marry so she could get her temporary citizenship. She asked for my help."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you mention this from the start? And what did you do?"
Her gaze dropped as she fidgeted with her hands. "We went to a bar, tried to find someone. But… Alisha is—was shy. She didn't find anyone. We stayed at a nearby hotel, then the next day, Friday, I suggested we go to the football match, hoping we'd have better luck there… but she was murdered before anything could happen."
"Where's this bar and the hotel?" I asked.
"We started at Polished—then I don't remember what we did. I was, well, kind of drunk and high on red crystal." She said, "I vaguely remember we stayed at a hotel."
Leo leaned back, arms crossed. "She was reported missing on Friday. So you were at the hotel that day? Before the murder?"
"Yeah," she said, nodding slowly.
"Did you notice anyone acting strange around you?"
"No, no one," she replied quickly, shaking her head.
Leo let out a small, frustrated breath, then spoke sternly. "Next time, don't leave out important details, Miranda. Now, is there anything—anything at all—you're not telling us? Even the smallest thing can make a difference."
She shook her head, her lips tight. "No, nothing else."
I stepped in, watching her closely. "Where was she working? Jeremy told us she was paying her rent on time, never missing a day. Without legal papers, finding a job shouldn't have been easy for her. She was getting money from somewhere."
Miranda looked away for a moment before answering. "I'm not going to sugar-coat it—she was working as a hooker on Bark-Bark Street."
"Hmm," I nodded, taking in the information. "She had a pimp?"
"Yeah, a guy named Don. Most people call him Big Don."
"Where can we find this Big Don?" I asked.
"He's in Polished, Yukaru Megabuilding."
Leo stood, brushing his hands on his pants. "Alright, I'll ask around Bark-Bark about Alisha. C, you check on Don. Take Jane or James with you—don't go alone. You never know what might happen, ya know?"
"Hmm," I agreed, rising to my feet. "Got it."
I dialed James as I left the room.
"James," I began, after he picked up the call. "You free? Alisha was a hooker in Bark-Bark street. I'm going to talk with her pimp now."
"Take Jane." He said. "Alisha's—uh, working friends are here. I'm talking to them right now, C."
"Gotcha. See you at Golden Cats."
"Yep."
---
Jane stood in front of Yukaru Megabuilding, sipping her cold coffee as neon lights flickered overhead, bathing the streets in an unnatural glow. Towering skyscrapers surrounded the area, their sharp, angular forms piercing through the dense fog that clung to the lower levels of the city. Gigantic holo-ads blinked with vibrant colors, promoting everything from synthetic food to cybernetic enhancements.
The streets were packed, but the people moved sluggishly, their faces hollow and tired, worn down by the weight of their daily grind. Trash littered the corners, and the distant hum of machinery filled the air, giving the whole area an industrial, oppressive atmosphere. The Megabuilding itself loomed over everything, its structure cluttered with balconies and cables, glowing windows, and pulsing lights, a concrete beast holding a hundred different lives inside its metal walls.
Parking the car by the side of the road, I hopped out and made my way over to her. Jane glanced at me, tossed the last of her coffee into a nearby trash bin with perfect aim, and wiped her hands on her jacket.
"Hey, C," she greeted, nodding. "Heard about what went down with Miranda and the landlord."
"Yeah," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's all getting complicated."
She rubbed the back of her neck. "She was already dead, huh? Though, Leo thinks the autopsy can't be trusted since she was bitten. I agree with him, to be honest."
"Hmm," I muttered, not entirely convinced. "Eh, let's just go and talk with this Big Don."
We walked through the automated sliding doors into the apartment lobby, greeted by a strange mix of luxury and grunge. The place felt like an overworked tech hub, with worn-out couches lining the walls, but the residents were anything but relaxed. A few people lounged in VR headsets, twitching their hands in the air as they played games or watched immersive holo-dramas. The ceiling was low, crisscrossed with exposed pipes and wires that made the space feel claustrophobic despite its size.
We approached the reception desk where a bored-looking woman sat, her fingers tapping away at her computer. She barely glanced up as we walked over, then returned to her screen.
"Hi," I said, leaning on the counter. "We're looking for a man named Don. Which floor is he staying on?"
"Mr. Don doesn't want to be bothered," she replied flatly, eyes never leaving her screen. "You should call him first."
"We gotta see him now," Jane interjected, flipping open her ID for the woman to see. "We need to speak with him."
She shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "I don't care if you're cops, gods, or whatever. No means no."
"At least let him know we want to talk to him?" I asked, trying a different approach.
"Nope. I can't do that. Anything else?"
I turned to Jane, frustrated. "I'm calling Captain Helion. He can get us a warrant."
"No," Jane grabbed my arm, stopping me mid-reach for my phone. "We can handle this."
"Hmm…" I muttered, giving her a skeptical look. "Alright, what's the plan, then?"
Before Jane could answer, the elevator doors slid open, and we came face to face with Big Don. Just like in the photo—bald head, strong jawline, muscular build. His brown eyes narrowed the moment they saw Jane's badge, and his hand immediately shot to the elevator panel, frantically pressing the close button.
I nudged Jane, catching her attention. "Look."
Don's panic was clear. The doors were taking longer than usual to close, and as soon as he realized that I was coming for him, he bolted through the corridor toward the back exit.
"Shit!" I shouted, breaking into a sprint. "Stop! Police! Stop!"
Don tore through the back exit, crashing into the alley with the sound of metal slamming behind him. Without hesitation, I followed. The alley was tight, with dumpsters and graffiti-covered walls on either side. The air reeked of trash and oil.
"Backup's on the way!" Jane called out from behind as I sped ahead.
Don glanced back, seeing me hot on his heels, and pushed harder. He was fast, but I had the edge. I could see the tension in his legs, the way his bulky frame strained as he forced himself through the alley. He was strong, but strength alone wouldn't help him now.
"Back off, pig!" he barked. His voice was rough, like he'd smoked one too many cheap cigars, and it was laced with fear.
"You're not gonna outrun me, Don!" I shouted, leaping over a fallen dumpster lid and ducking under a low-hanging pipe. "Just stop!"
He grunted and turned into the main street, weaving between pedestrians and street vendors who yelled in protest as he shoved past. The neon lights from above ads flickered, casting shifting colors onto the cracked sidewalks. A food stall toppled as Don barreled into it, scattering noodles and sauce across the pavement.
I hurdled the mess effortlessly, my legs pumping as I gained on him. The towering buildings and neon signs felt like they were closing in, the chaos of the street becoming a blur of lights and noise. Cars honked as Don crossed the road, narrowly avoiding an oncoming taxi.
He shot me a look over his shoulder, breath labored. "You should give up, cop. I'm not going down easy!"
"Wouldn't dream of it," I yelled back, sliding over the hood of a parked car, nearly clipping the side mirror. My adrenaline surged as the crowd thickened, but I kept my focus on him.
Don turned down another alley and suddenly, he stopped and whipped around, his hand reaching into his jacket. My eyes widened as he pulled out a gun.
"Shit!" I dove to the side just as Don fired. The bullet whizzed past my head, smashing into the brick wall behind me with a loud crack. The alley echoed with the gunshot, the sound bouncing off the narrow walls like a firecracker.
"You really wanna do this, Don?!" I yelled, crouched behind a dumpster for cover. My heart raced, but my mind stayed sharp. I heard his heavy breathing, the adrenaline likely pumping through him just as much as me. But fear was making him sloppy.
"Stay back!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "You don't know what you're getting into! I just sell premiums, that's it!"
"Oh, I know exactly what I'm getting into!" I shouted back, peeking around the dumpster just in time to see him take off again, gun still in hand.
I scrambled up, darting after him. My feet pounded the pavement as I closed the distance. The neon glow of the city cast long shadows in the alley, making the world feel warped, distorted.
Don turned a corner, and I heard a crash—a metal fence, maybe? I pushed harder, rounding the corner to see him scrambling up a fire escape. The metal ladder swayed under his weight, creaking as he climbed higher. Without breaking stride, I jumped up and grabbed the bottom rung, hauling myself up after him.
"Give it up, Don! You're not gonna shake me!" I called out, my voice steady as I pulled myself onto the platform. He was on the rooftop now, running toward the opposite edge.
"Fuck off!" he shouted, not even looking back as he shot his gun in my general direction. I could see his movements slowing, though—he was tiring.
He reached the edge of the rooftop and looked over. For a moment, I thought he might jump, but he hesitated. That moment of doubt was all I needed. I pushed harder, sprinting across the rooftop and closing the distance between us.
I launched myself at him, tackling him just as he turned to fire again. We hit the ground hard, his gun skittering across the rooftop and out of reach. He struggled beneath me, trying to push me off, but I had the upper hand.
"Give it up!" I growled, pinning his arm behind his back. "It's over, Don."
He groaned, still writhing beneath me, but the fight was gone. "You… you don't understand," he panted, his voice weak now. "I didn't kill that whore!"
I tightened my grip, forcing his arm up just enough to make him wince. "Ah, shut up…"
Don stopped struggling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He knew it was over. The adrenaline still coursed through my veins, but I could feel it beginning to subside as I hauled him to his feet, locking his wrists in cuffs.
"I told you, Don," I said, catching my breath. "You weren't getting away."
---