Vices: A Race **Chapter 002**

A yawn escaped the chapped, rough lips of a man as he packed away his things, shrugging off his white coat and putting it back inside his bag. The day, he thought, had been rather rough. Things pouring from here and there, and he felt as if the workload over here was just like the workload given in college. Except, of course, with tenser deadlines and whatnot.

The man hummed, running a hand through his dark, brunette curls. Forensic science was shit – not in a bad way, but Macmillan Thomas tended to ponder over his other options. He could have been a businessman, but fuck that, really. Math wasn’t this thing. He was more…scientific.

The lights were too bright. He squinted and fumbled around, dimming them and exhaling a sigh of relief. If that continued, he’d have to register as someone legally blind. But that would be great – the first blind forensic scientist who worked closely with HQ. Hm. Mack wondered if he’d earn more…

Sliding on his jacket and grabbing his large bag, he shuffled out of the office and made his way to the elevators, pressing a button and waiting for it to open –

“Thomas! Oi, Thomas!”

He groaned internally.

‘Please, God. Not another fucking OT.’

“You’ve got the worst timing,” Mack grumbled, turning to see Touta there with a ziplock in his hands. The ziplock screamed death and work and OT. “What now, eh?”

“I came from a new crime scene,” both men heard the ding of the elevator and stepped inside, Mack pressing the button labeled G, “And got this.”

“The hell is this…” he took the ziplock gingerly and squinted, “Shards? Glass shards? Did someone cut the poor thing into pieces like three months ago?”

“Not exactly. A young woman was found on the pavement, surrounded by a significant amount of glass shards. But get this – it’s not so much as to compose an entire beer bottle.”

Mack stayed silent.

“I want you to get on it – even do it at home, I don’t care. We just need the information as soon as possible.”

“By we,” he began carefully, tussling his hair once more, “Do you mean the Japanese police as a whole?”

At that, Touta cracked a smile.

“Squad A’s on this case, Thomas.”

“Squad A? You shitting me?” Thomas’ eyes were wide with surprise, “You, Maxwell and Peters? Ice Cold Maxwell and Drug Bust Pete?”

“And you wonder why A keeps sending dirty looks your way–”

“It was a joke. But on much more serious topics, the whole Squad A’s going to work on this?”

“Squad A won’t be Squad A without Thomas.”

“The elevator halted to a close, the doors opening. Mack let out a bark of laughter, his fingers on the ‘keep doors open please’ key.

“You fucking suck up. I’ll get this done over at my place. It’s much more contained, much cleaner…and I get my own supply of coffee without the others hogging it out of my hands like teenage hipsters.”

While Touta proceeded to thank the man, a young couple was asleep in their bed thirty minutes away.

The man had his arms wrapped around her, face buried into her shoulder, both of them tangled under the sheets, a content smile on the face of the twenty-four-year-old ginger. The woman merely stayed asleep, both of them floating around in dreamland for the past three hours after falling into bed.

He let off a grunt and snuggled much closer, the lady not moving an inch, mind muddled with laughter and pots of coffee mixed with alcohol.

She wanted to fall deeper, but her phone didn’t exactly want that.

The first few bars of a Japanese band’s song began to play, which woke her up this time, blinking the sleep out of her green eyes. The man let off another groan and she reached for her phone, wrinkling her nose at the taste in her mouth.

“Babe…”

“Go back to sleep,” she mumbled, and answered her phone, squinting into the darkness. “Hello?”

“Sorry for waking you up, A.”

“I’ll send Matt your apologies,” she muttered back, running her fingers through her lover’s ginger hair. “It’s three in the morning…couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Sadly, it can’t. I have to alert you and Peters as soon as possible.” She heard him pause as he drove, “There was something–”

“Please don’t tell me you’re calling while driving.”

“I’m not, I promise. I’m using the holder you got me.”

“Okay.” The lady pinched her temples, “Go on.”

“Sawashiro asked us to take care of this one. A local woman was found dead near her apartment, and I found glass shards around her. Convinced Thomas to study them for us and find out where it came from.”

“You got Thomas to do this at three in the morning?”

“I used my unbelievably amazing conversational and charismatic skills.”

“Har, har.” She closed her eyes, “Hold on…weren’t there two other murders in the last two weeks?”

“Sawashiro told me that they’re working on it. No such leads so far.”

“I somehow expected that. Do me a favor and bag those for me, will you?”

She heard Touta hesitate.

“What do you think, A?”

“Funny murders in the different parts of Tokyo going unexplained? I think these cases are connected, Touta. We’ll talk about this with Peters in the morning.”

“Of course. Goodnight.”

She ended the call and put her phone back on the nightstand, lying back in bed. The man next to her opened his eyes slowly, to which the woman sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. “Something wrong, darling?”

“New case…” she kissed his nose, “Go back to sleep. I’ll tell you about it during breakfast.”

“What about our date…?”

Her smile went away. “We’ll have to postpone it…I’m sorry.”

“Damn.” He let off a small sigh, “Oh well – you’ll make up for it tonight?”

“Don’t I always?”

He cracked a smile – a small one – and nodded, closing those blue eyes once more.

As one couple headed back to sleep, a lone man was conversing with Touta over at his own apartment. Samuel Peters resisted the urge to get a cigarette and smoke into the night, listening to his superior update him on the recent murder that just happened.

“Young lady gets killed by her apartment, hm…tell A about this?”

“Even better – got Thomas to study the evidence.”

“That lazy bitch,” Peters snickered. “At least he’s doing something right with that scientific brain of his. Any theories?”

“A thinks that the cases are connected.”

He snorted. “Of course she does. She thinks everything’s connected…but then again, she’s right. Most of the time. I’ll give it an eighty-percent chance.”

“You know her…always connecting the dots even while on different pages.”

“As much as I hate do admit it, she gets it done at times.” he glanced at the clock, “Thanks for telling. Get to sleep, damn it.” He ended the call and set his phone down, turning down the lights and settling back into bed.

Another case.

He felt the slight adrenaline rush up his veins and gave a small chuckle, pulling the blanket up and closing his hazel-colored eyes.

“Hope you’re happy I’m going back to work,” Peters muttered, and eventually fell asleep as well.

The picture frame sitting on the shelf gave a glimmer of a smile.