Inside the Judgement offices of the Emerald District, the din of conversation blended with the sound of typewriters hammering away and the ringing of telephones.  There was a strong scent of coffee and tobacco in the air, though the paddle-fans that lined the ceiling did a decent job of keeping things cleared up.  Amidst the rows of desks was one in particular, indicated by the nameplate "Detective Sergeant Nashawicz", and covered with neat stacks of paper along with a tea set.  The desk's occupant had paused in her typing to take a sip of tea, scrunching her eyebrows to pore over the report she'd just written about a terrorist plot that had been foiled just the day before and the events of the night that followed.  The teapot was full of the strongest brew she had, but there were dark circles beneath her golden eyes, as she hadn't really slept at all, and after rubbing at one eye with the back of her hand, she took another--longer--sip and leaned back in her chair.<br/><br/>Though the events of the past few months were always swirling in her head, it was last night that stuck out in her mind the most, and she couldn't help but brood on it.  The terrorists had tried to bomb the funeral for their previous victims, and it had been her teammates that foiled their plans.  Perhaps that was the straw on the camel's back, because later on that night, the terrorists struck again, firing at her and another teammate as they talked on the veranda of her family's expansive home.  A foot chase ensued, eventually leading to a gun battle in an apartment building that was being used as a terrorist hideout.  The memory of their leader--some ghostlike creature--and the terror he induced stuck with her almost as much as the dread for her family's safety.  Had her father or mother or one of her siblings happened to step outside...they could have easily been killed as well.  Though they were being whisked to safety even as she sat in thought, things were now very personal.  Her silvery ears flattened in a moment of anger and she took another sip of tea, decisively.<br/><br/>Setting the cup aside, she took in a deep breath and tapped her fingers over the keys of her typewriter without actually pressing them.  When would this madness stop?<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>