"184 copy; code 3, ETA 3 minutes." Fuse replies into the comms system as he drives, rain splashing down against the windshield of the cop car.
The brown haired man turns to Camo. "Sorry detectives. I know you're just coming off of a case, but I'm afraid we're going to have to make a detour.
" Camo, in reply, keeps his lips pressed together tightly, allowing his partner to speak up in the silence disrupted only by the pitter-patter of the rain and the car's blaring sirens.
Is it a riot?" His single visible eye, framed by black glasses, is somber, and Camo doesn't have to look to the back seat of the car to know what kind of expression Akiyama is making.
He can picture it in his head; the young man's lips parted ever so slightly, teeth bared into a small grimace.
"The call went out just before I picked you up. Said it was 'multiple homicides'. There's half a dozen units already on scene.
" Fuze continues looking up into the mirror to meet Akiayama's gaze in a manner that could almost be taken as challenging, and Camo turns his head, as if to stare at the policeman driving.
"Maybe it's the ghost of that Doctor that went schizo and chopped up all those patients.
" Camo watches in the rear view mirror as Akiyama leans foreword in his seat, almost as if rising to the bait with earnest gray eyes. Or eye, as it were.
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