Somewhere in New York...
The papers were scattered across a large wooden desk, accompanied by the name of the detective who had been searching for him for the past week. Dante sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm his nerves. He had dark, scarred skin, pitch-black hair, and golden eyes that could kill.
He reached out and grabbed a cigarette from the packet on his desk. Just as he was about to light it, the large wooden door to his office swung open, and one of his men entered. Dante leaned back in his dark office chair and looked up at the newcomer. "Yes, what is it?" he asked in a rough tone, expecting answers.
"We planted the tracker. You should be able to see his location at all times, sir," the man informed, bowing his head to show respect. Dante hummed in approval, his eyes sharp yet dull.
"Good. Hand me the remote, will you?" Dante extended his hand, palm up. The man quickly placed the remote in Dante's hands and stepped back. Dante accepted the remote and gestured for him to leave, which he did promptly.
Once alone, Dante turned on the tracker and saw a big red dot on the map. "Hmm. So that's where you are..." he chuckled darkly.
Meanwhile, our beloved detective, Kade, had just woken up from a long eight hours of sleep. After brushing his teeth and getting dressed, he glanced at the pen-looking tracking device on his desk. Believing it was the police keeping tabs on him, he decided to tuck it into his pocket—better safe than sorry.
After getting ready for the day, Kade left his messy apartment, putting on his patrol boots as he headed out. He locked the door and slid the key back into the pocket of his black pants, feeling the reassuring weight of his firearm in its holster, some cash in one pocket, and his apartment key in the other.
Upon arriving at work, Kade received the latest information on the suspect he was investigating. He sat down with his co-worker, Ava, who handed him a thin folder. "We believe we found some information on your case. Take a look," Ava said, sliding the folder across the table. Kade eagerly accepted it.
"It says here his first name is Dante and that he is of Italian origin." Kade paused as he flipped through the empty pages. "Is there more?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Kade. It seems he has been wiped from all records since 2018," Ava replied, closing the folder and taking it back.
Kade felt disappointment wash over him but didn't let it show. He got up to get a cup of coffee from the machine. The police station was quite dull on the outside and not much better on the inside. It was usually low-staffed, with only a few computers and the coffee machine—the only thing keeping the team awake.
The floor was made of cold concrete, just like the walls, and the only wood was in some of the tables; not even the doors were made of wood to minimize fire hazards, which never seemed to help.
Kade took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the warm liquid on his tongue. Workdays were generally long and filled with wasted hours, accompanied by a whole lot of coffee. He took a large gulp, nearly spitting it out when a loud ringtone startled him. He set down the coffee mug and pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Yes?" he answered.
"Come by 120 Street; we found your co-worker."