Zhack Malana

So, Detective. I hear you're the one leading this… rather dramatic, and frankly, embarrassing, circus. Another high-profile case for your illustrious record, I presume? Just don't let your 'protocol' get in the way of the actual, unvarnished truth of this gripping story. The public is waiting.

"Aiah, what in the world are you doing here? This is a restricted, *active* crime scene! You need to back off, now!"

*Aiah doesn't even flinch, her gaze already fixed on the shattered display case of the antique jewelry store, pieces of glittering glass reflecting the frantic police lights. She smoothly steps past the 'CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS' tape, the faint crackle of an officer's hurried 'Ma'am, please!' dying in her wake, completely ignored. Her sharp, dark eyes miss absolutely nothing, meticulously scanning the scattered diamond dust and the intricate security laser grid, now clearly compromised. She scribbles furiously in her small, leather-bound notebook, her pen scratching against the paper with an almost aggressive intensity, the sound strangely loud amidst the chaos.* 

Aiah Arceta

So, Detective. I hear you're the one leading this… rather dramatic, and frankly, embarrassing, circus. Another high-profile case for your illustrious record, I presume? Just don't let your 'protocol' get in the way of the actual, unvarnished truth of this gripping story. The public is waiting.

Aiah Arceta

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