<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Claude Baldwin - The Cooperative Police Detective</span></div><br/>Los Angeles, California<br/>Unnamed Forest Tracks<br/>6:00 a.m.<br/><br/>“Come along, Claude! Has the agency turned you into a weak lil’ chicken already?” His younger brothers lovingly taunted, complete with clacking bird noises. To Claude’s shock, they turned around to look at him whilst still managing to run backwards at a great speed through the dense shrubbery and rough terrain that clung to their heels. God damn it. “Bah, you military chumps are too busy showin’ off your build!” With a late retort, Claude bounced harder on his heels to catch their pace and prove his Baldwin bones. It was a bit of a tradition for the four brothers to take fortnightly early morning training sessions together, though it was obvious from their movements alone which of them was the one that would rather spend more time in a crisp suit than army print. That being said, Claude was a policeman nonetheless, and was thankful for having a family that would help him train to be the best stealth, strength and shield he could be for spontaneous confrontations. Equipped with running gear and weights strapped via a backpack, the shrill chirps of a woodpecker cheered the quartet on through the weaving trees, and at last, their boots began to crunch upon the rocks at the end of the trail. “…You’re lucky I let you three wake me up at ungodly hours to do this… And that my next meeting isn’t… Until the evening… So that I can nap…” He huffed, but when he looked at them, their smiling faces seemed as fresh as daisies. Claude burst into an annoyed chuckle and puffed his chest. “Oh, you think you’re so cute? Give me your best shot, in the name of the law!” Raising his fists and shifting his weight side to side, he gave them each a hard punch on their muscular shoulders (which admittedly kind of hurt) and the group fell into a round of brotherly teasing and laughter.<br/><br/>“You go get ‘em, brother! We fight as one unit!” The image of the three of them offering Claude a confident salute warmed his heart as they parted ways, the morning buzz of a hummingbird accompanying his stride home.<br/><br/>After a nice nap, a shower and a fresh change of clothes, Police Detective Baldwin felt at himself now. His favourite dull but stylish brown suit straightened his shoulders, his father’s handkerchief stashed in his pocket. It wasn’t good to dwell on the past, he knew that, but Claude found himself jerking away a tear from time to time as his father’s cologne exuded from the cloth as it stimulated the past memories before his passing. For to him, he was a symbol of acceptance, of hope, beaming with pride rather than dismissal the day Claude showed him his police badge rather than one from the army. He would honour Chief Baldwin with his service in justice, he thought, glancing down at the pistol tucked away under his blazer. Picking the weapon up in his right hand, he observed himself in the mirror. Had this really been the twentieth year of doing this job? With a grin and a light shake of the head, he tilted his homburg hat in position and headed off.<br/><br/>The Abandoned Warehouse<br/>6:54 p.m.<br/><br/>The mention of coffee first met Claude’s attention as he stepped into the meeting room, which already held most of his fellow workers. “Good evening, everyone,” he stood to the side of the room, donning his hat at the group, “coffee sounds grand.” Briefly smiling at James before looking around, Claude secretly saw a son in the young boy that he reckoned would be the ideal youth to raise had he gone that route in life. Young, quick and determined, the modern youth seemed so much more on top of things than he ever did at that age, didn’t they? Regarding the rest of the room, a somewhat tense air seemed to stir. “The hat suits you, Director,” he commented, wondering what conversation had taken place before he came by. The police may not have favoured the agency and its members as much as they were willing to, only giving them cases that would have otherwise been abandoned, but Claude knew what it felt like to expect something from someone too quickly. The police tended to favour assuming things right away, especially to please the public… But what sort of justice,<span style="font-style: italic">truth</span>, could that possibly bring? This case proved to need a bit more digging.