FAULT LINES ━━ titans [REWRITING]

TWO.

HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ BUSTED. ❞

DRUG TRAFFICKING HAD NOT BEEN WHAT ABIGAIL LANCE HAD SUSPECTED. Sure, when she noticed the lack of the camera she had come to the conclusion something illegal was taking place in the restaurant — but drugs? Good job she hadn't bet money. It would have been on a crime syndicate. The typical Carmine Falcone type. But it was nice to be surprised every once in a while. Charged at by Italian cooks wielding knives? Not so much.

The row of tables in the middle of the darkened room were seated by a few people at each, all of whom had stopped to stare in panic and fear at the woman who had just broken the door down to get in here. But none of them looked as downright terrified as the manager, who couldn't quite seem to believe that she was standing there after going through all of the chefs.

"Hi," Abigail smiled, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, her voice so sweet it was sickly, "We need to chat."

Fear was a powerful incentive. Terror? Now that motivated people to talk. Taking out six cooks that had probably taken down every other threat that had come through those kitchen doors? That inspired terror. The man practically blurted out what happened to the camera and where she could go to watch the footage it had. He even told her what he had seen, what he'd heard. She stopped him when he began to describe a girl, the girl who had left the building shortly after the screaming. Blue hair, he'd said. Young, dark clothes. Pale skin.

"Wait," Abigail cut in, pulling out her phone and sending Amy a text, asking her to send a photo of the girl who's photo she'd seen on that desk, "A girl? Was she with anyone? An officer?"

The manager frowned, "No, no no, she went in with one, but came out with someone else. Another man. White, brown hair. In a suit."

Her phone chimed, and she looked down to see a speedy and helpful reply from Rorhbach. She clicked on the image and held it up to the man's gaze.

"This girl?"

He peered at the face, concentrating, before slowly beginning to nod. Abigail pulled him to his feet from where she'd made him sit at one of the tables, ordering him to show her where she could watch the security footage from the time of the incident. He hurriedly lead the way, leaving behind the workers tied in a huddle with old, thick rope Abigail had found in the crate at the back of the room.

The security room was undoubtedly the most modern, up to date part of the drug organisation  and restaurant front, but she wasn't surprised. Better surveillance ensured better security of their product. With shaky hands, the manager loaded up the footage and stepped back to allow the brunette to take over. The tape was high quality, clear, nothing like the blurry videos she had access to before — this was even in colour. She fixed her gaze on the abandoned building, watching as the officer dragged the blue haired girl into the rundown house. She was sure this was the same girl from the photo, but their backs were to the camera and she wasn't taking the risk.