<div class="floatleft">(http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTbpgqCXCQUSVHq5cyHkh9jGSI00g5e7BsNbCq1DXgr9HdreyIv9g)</div>The two policemen walking down the street had absolutely no idea what they were heading towards. They wore standard issue Police Combat gear, which a decade ago would have been cutting edge military, but now was so out of date it was almost laughable.<br/><br/>Franz Meinhof was thinking about what his wife would be cooking for dinner that night. He hoped it was goulash, as he really loved her goulash. Maybe he would call her later and ask.<br/><br/>Didi Zeffer was really wishing she hadn't got quite so drunk the night before. She had woken up early this morning in bed with a woman and a man, neither of whom she'd ever seen before. She had managed to get out of the house she found herself in without waking either of them and called a taxi. She had made it home just in time to get showered, dressed, get some breakfast and get to work. At least she was on contraceptives and anti-STDs, but she really should learn to be more careful.<br/><br/>It was Meinhof who spotted the punk women sitting in a car, fiddling with things. Probably nothing, probably perfectly legit, but with crime the way it was and society the way it was, anything suspicious was worth checking out. He walked over to the car and tapped on the roof of the vehicle. "Entschuldigen Sie, Fräulein, ist es ein Problem?"<em>Excuse me, Miss, is there a problem?</em><br/><br/>Zeffer was somewhat surprised by her partner, but she hung back as protocol demanded, covering him, just in case.