<b>Name Of Character: </b>Seto Kishimoto<br/><b>Date and time: </b>Monday 16th July, 0730 -> 0750<br/><b>Location: </b>Kishimoto Household -> 158 Syracuse Ave<br/><b>With whom: </b>Duty Dispatcher, Honoka Kishimoto -> All attending crime scene, first officer available at the scene<br/><b>Trigger warnings: Light language</b><br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/>Lieutenant Kishimoto awoke to the overbearing sound of his work cellphone's ringtone. The device was blaring a heavy metal song on full volume, shaking any residual ability to sleep from his body as his right arm reached out to a mahogany nightstand. His fingers fumbled for a few seconds, then gripped the phone and answered it, putting the device to his face as his wife began to stir next to him, likely sensing something was wrong.<br/><br/>"Kishimoto... Message received, I'll be there shortly."<br/><br/>The conversation was short and to the point. Homicide, one times DOA. This quiet little town was about to get a heavy dose of media sensationalism. Seto hated how the American news handled crimes, especially violent ones. Nobody waited for the police to figure things out; reporters just speculated and turned the whole case into a media shitshow for views and money.<br/><br/>Not that that mattered right now.<br/><br/>"Darling?" Honoka's voice tentatively called out, forcing the detective to roll over to face her.<br/><br/>"It's nothing Honoka. Just work letting me know I need to start early today. I'll call you if I can't make it back for dinner." Seto replied plainly. There was no need to get his wife riled up without cold hard facts, and the facts now were that he knew next to nothing yet.<br/><br/>The detective spent a few moments easing his wife's worries with a smattering of kisses, then forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom. His morning ritual was usually longer, but today it was torturously quick. A speedy rinse of his body in the shower, no soap. Covering his body in a royal blue button-up shirt and navy blue jeans. Black socks and steel-toed boots on his feet. A quick rub of his lightly stubbled chin. Car keys, wallet, gun, badge, notepad.<br/><br/>In the garage were three cars; a black Mercedes GLE SUV owned by his wife, a silver Honda Civic that was a present for his oldest, and the black Dodge Charger that he slid into the driver's seat of. The three vehicles had the space filled to capacity, and Seto had been glad he had built a large enough addition to the house so years ago. The engine roared to life and Seto backed out of the driveway, drove 100 yards to the main road, and into the early morning commute.<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/>Seto arrived to the crime scene roughly 20 minutes after getting the call for his presence, arriving to yellow tape and a handful of uniformed officers. The moment he got close enough, he whipped out his badge and called out to the nearest officer.<br/><br/>"Detective Kishimoto, Homicide. I'd like to speak to site command for a sitrep. Have any other detectives shown up yet?"