<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">The sound of the city was something fierce, especially in the valley of the shadows. Despite the grim, eerie surroundings of the lower level, life could be found around every corner. From the loud sirens, to the hundreds of conversations happening simultaneously, there was something always going on. All these various noises fell silent to particular young woman who was busy with her business in one of the complex alleyways. Slight moans and wet kisses could be heard from around the corner as the girl led her man out into the dirty sidewalk. The neon lighting illuminated the female slightly, showing off her curvy figure in her skin tight red dress. Her light pink lips curved into a smirk as she led the man by his tie, her heels heavily clicking with every step. The man that followed her seemed to be like a lovesick puppy, completely enamored with the company that he scored tonight.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">Where are we going love</span>?” He cooed, licking his lips in anticipation of her answer.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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The woman turned around, her long black hair turning whipping around to her back. She slowly wrapped her finger around his tie, pulling him closer. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Someplace more comfortable</span>.” She said, her soft voice making the man shiver.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
Unbeknownst to the man, he was a victim to her sick little game. He fell prey to her scheme like all the rest of them did, granted, she hated to do things like this. Not because she felt sorry of the outcome of her victims, but because she valued herself of being more than a sex symbol. The black haired vixen continued to lead the man down to most unexpected place a couple would go. Before he could actually see where they ended up, she turned around and pressed her lips against his. The man instinctively wrapped his arms around her small waist as he kissed her back, his eyes closed. She opened her eyes, reaching in her purse to take out a pair of silver cuffs. She reached back, cuffing his hands together behind her before dipping down and slipping out of his arms. She forcibly pushed him against the slimy, concrete wall, surprisingly stronger than the man thought.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">W-what’s going on</span>?!” The man yelled as he looked back at her. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">What the hell is this</span>?!”</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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She pulled another object out of her purse, this time being a small, black wallet. As she pressed her body weight against the struggling man, she flipped it opened, sporting a somewhat dimmed metal badge with the letters PD engraved on the center. She reached into his pocket, taking out his wallet. She smirked as she found a couple of dollar bills, all adding up to around three hundred. It made a perfect tip for what she had to go through tonight.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Monroe Desi, Roanapur PD</span>.” The woman said before she dragged his face against the wall, pushing him through a wooden door and tucking the money in her bra. Well, assistant PD.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
He fell on the ground with a hard thud, the people around the office looking around. There were only about three other officers inside, none of which phased by the craziness of their fellow officer. Monroe walked inside, swinging her purse as her heels dug into the man’s back. He cried out, but she didn’t bother paying any attention to him. Instead, she picked up a clip board on a nearby desk as she looked at the writing. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Ethan Lynch</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Wanted for multiple accounts of murder</span>.” She muttered before throwing the clipboard down on the floor so that he could see what was on it. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Recognize those two women</span>? <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Of course</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">they weren’t the only ones that you used and disposed of</span>.” Monroe motioned for the other officers to take care of the trash she brought in as she headed over to the bathroom.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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Taking out a toothbrush and toothpaste from her purse, she vigorously cleaned her mouth from the stench cigarettes and stale beer. The girl gagged, scrubbing her tongue before looking up at the slightly smudged mirror. A woman with light green eyes and tan skin looked back at her, though her expression didn’t give her beautiful face justice. She had enough of this place. It wasn’t like she cared about getting justice, or what happened to the criminals all over this God forsaken city. Only those who came from the upper levels ever thought about morals. She, for one, didn’t grow up with morals, or even good parents for that matter. Shaking her head free of thoughts, Monroe ran her fingers through her long hair before putting it up into a high messy bun. She walked out of the bathroom, the criminal now out of sight and out of mind. The wooden door did need fixing again as she broke it off the hinges. There was always something happening to that damn door and yet, they were too cheap fix it. She threw the black purse down on her chair as she picked up as pair of black skinny jeans.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Where’s Vincent</span>?” Monroe asked, pulling on her pants as she looked over at her co-workers. One of them pointed to the boss’s office which resided in the dark corner of the building. The door was shut and the blinds were closed along with a dirty sock hanging on the handle. Monroe scowled, pulling her dress over her head and putting on a baggy t-shirt. Why the hell did he make his pleasure a part of the office norm? It was really disturbing to hear moans throughout the day and even more so knowing that he was a fifty year old man being active with girls her age. Shivering, she took her wallet, placing it in her back pocket.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">Desi</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">we got a call about a murder on 48th and Stearns street</span>,” Someone said as he held onto the phone.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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She looked at him, slipping on her heels again as she shook her head. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">That doesn’t concern me</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">As of eight minutes ago</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">I’m officially clocked out</span>.”</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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It didn’t take long to reach the Red Light district, though, one could argue that these kinds of things happen all around the city. She knew these streets well. It was the hub of everything in the city. All kinds of wrong happened in this area which never allowed a dull moment. To live here required a lot of determination and confidence. If someone didn’t have those two things, they would be like live bait fed to the sharks. The clicks of her heels were drowned out by the sounds of lustful women calling out to men as well as the multiple conversations that filled the air with noise. There were occasional sirens and horns every now and then, but around this time of night, most people wanted to have a good time. Whether that be finding a hookup for the night, or getting a sick thrill from watching the life drain from a person’s eyes.<br/>
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Monroe walked through the enormous crowd of people. All she wanted right now was a couple of strong drinks. She dealt with enough bastards today that she felt like the only way to get rid the germs off her mouth was to burn it off with multiple amounts of alcohol. Not even the minty freshness of her toothpaste could wash away what she had been through in just an eight hour shift. The woman gasped as she suddenly felt a pair of slim, bony fingers wrap around her, groping her chest roughly.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">You don’t look like it</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">but you’re actually packing a whole lot under these clothes</span>,” A woman’s voice whispered in her ear, “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">We can always use more girls for our business</span>.”</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
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Monroe groaned, pulling her hands off of her as she turned around. The woman she ended up eyeing turned out to be none other than Madame D’Aleo. She was one of the two most…”successful” whore houses in the entire lower city; The Kitty Grade. She was an old, crippled woman, her figure long abandoning her along with her youth. Her stringy white hair was up in a tight bun, colorful hair accessories clipped to it as it gave her a cultural flavor. She was tall and lanky, towering over Monroe with a crooked smile. How the woman ever managed a business like this, the world would never know.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Keep groping me like this</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">and I will put your business to an end</span>,” Monroe threatened, slapping the grubby hands away from her body.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
The old hag laughed, “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">You know as well as I do that my business is going absolutely nowhere</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">The city practically runs on the money I make</span>,” Madame D’Aleo caressed her cheek before grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">It’s such a shame</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">So much potential talent going to waste</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">Your mother was one of my best kitties</span>. Y<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">ou could bring in as much money</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">maybe even more</span>.”</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
At the mention of her mother, Monroe’s eyes narrowed. She smacked the hands away from her once again, this time making the move to leave and disappear in the crowd.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">Sooner or later</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">you’ll come crawling back to me</span>!” She heard the scratchy voice yell, “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">You’ll stop playing cop and robbers once you realize you’ll never get out of this city</span>!”</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
Monroe entered a bar, she wasn’t really sure which one. All she knew was that she needed a drink right now. Like any other bar, it was extremely crowded. People were all over the place. Some gambling at the tables and others taking part in sexual acts being too horny to take it home. Taking in her surroundings once more, she finally recognized the place where she was. She didn’t come to this bar too often. Many mobsters and underground dealing happened her, along with countless amounts of fights and murders. If anyone ever found out that a cop was here, she would be the next victim whom her co-workers would be searching for. For now, it didn’t faze her from walking to the bar and sitting down. Groaning, she put her face in her hands and took a deep sigh.<br/>
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Looking up slightly, Monroe looked at the slightly familiar bartender. She couldn’t forget his deep scar, even if she tried.<br/>
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“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Caribou Lou</span>,” She said as she took her hair down from its constraints, letting it fall down her back. It made her head slightly better, “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">Make it a double</span>.”</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
She wouldn’t stay here for long. She’ll get a drink and then get the hell out of here before anyone figured out who she was. She built up a slight reputation being a cop, though no one knew it was exactly her. Or at least, no one who was an average criminal. There weren’t many female cops, so it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out it was her. She would use her charms to get the perpetrators; the ones that would easily fall for that, anyway. Vincent thought of the idea, and ever since, she’s been their little call girl, leading criminals straight to their front doors. At least, the males. She didn’t really care what people thought of her, so long as she continued getting paid.</span>