October 5, 2016

Manhattan, New York 

2:00 AM 

Blair 

Seeing the worst in people was something Blair Martinez did best. 

When drowning her nights in booze failed, she often went out at night with her flask, hoodie, and camera and watched through the lens the activities of all kinds of people in the windows and streets of New York City. Call it stalking, boredom, or laziness, but digging up dirt was another one of Blair’s expertise. 

And New York City was full of dirt. 

Blair, perched on an outdoor iron apartment fire escape in the deep corner of a slummed brick tenement building, subsequently snapped photos of a professor currently making out with a university student twenty years younger than him. Their lower east side hotel room was outdated and rusty, but that didn’t seem to affect the couple’s mood whatsoever. Blair could hear their moans all the way from up there and her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she was used to it by now having dealt with numerous cheaters. 

No wonder she preferred to be single.  

She was hired, yet again, by a delirious and desperate mother to investigate her husband and catch him in action. 

It was easy money just like all cheating cases were, and it took Blair barely a day to uncover the professor’s unfaithful acts. However, she also charged hourly and needed to squeeze out as much as she could, seeing as the NYPD and the Ilken law firms have been quite stingy with their cases lately. She didn’t blame them, though. Adjusting their practices to fit not only human crimes, but werewolves, orcs, fae, and humans with abilities were obviously no easy task. Even though the Accord took place ten years ago, it was still quite messy. 

The professor began to unclasp the student’s bra with his greasy fingers, and snapping Blair’s last photo, she decided she’d had enough. Switching her camera off, Blair placed it back into her duffel bag and took a large swig of her flask of bourbon before climbing up the stairs to the roof of the apartment building. 

Once she reached the top, Blair’s vision blurred and she tripped on her feet and hit them hard, cold stone floor. 

“Shit,” she mumbled as she picked herself up and clasped her head, “Fucking cheap bourbon.” 

She waited till her dizziness died down before walking slowly to the other side of the building facing the vast city lights. Blair removed her hood and took another swig of her flask, only to find it empty. Rolling her eyes she placed it back inside and looked out at the city. 

It was not the great view that Blair’s foster sister, Acacia, makes it out to be. 

New York used to be the city that never sleeps. The city of dreams. The city of expression. The city of hope. The city of opportunities. 

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. 

To Blair, it was now the city that sleeps around, that crushes your dreams, and takes everything you care about away from you. Not to mention, it was presently crawling with beasts and creatures of every kind and species just waiting to grabble each other for the top--using the Accord as a scapegoat for all their heinous crimes. 

Blair didn’t care, though. 

More crimes meant more cases. More cases meant good business, and good business meant Blair could pay the bills at the end of the month and spare some money from her paycheck to buy 80 proof spirits.

Taking a deep breath, she looked downward at the pavement that was fifteen stories down and jumped.

***** 

Waiting for the train to arrive in the subway, Blair leaned back on the brick wall and took out her phone to check for any messages. Finding five unread notifications, three of which were from Acacia, Blair read the chat: 

Cassie:

Audition failed… yet again :/. 

Late-night shift at the diner if u need anything. 

Left a tuna can for Topher and dinner for u at ur door. 

Rolling her eyes, Blair grudgingly typed out a response: 

Blair:  

How many times do I have to tell you to stop bringing tuna for that stupid fucking cat?! 

I want it OUT of my office. 

Before exiting the chat, Blair sighed and typed out a quick thanks for dinner. 

She checked her other unread conversation, only to find it was her current client, Debby Jones, demanding the results and pictures by tomorrow or else she’d get a lawyer involved. She clearly forgot that Blair was hired by Jesse-- the very same lawyer handling Debby’s divorce. 

Pampered idiot.  

Blair ignored the messages and put her phone back into her duffel bag. She dug her hands into her leather jacket pockets and put her hood back up, trying her very best to shut out the disgusting smell of urine wafting through the subway. After spending almost twenty-four years in this city, you’d think you would get used to all sorts of smells. 

Minutes passed as Blair waited for the train. She ended up taking her phone out to play a mobile game she became obsessed with recently called Vamp Run to fight the sleepiness the bourbon had brought on. She was so immersed in the game, wanting to beat her recent high score that she failed to notice the people that stood to wait next to her. 

Looking around, she saw a towering male orc in sweats and a t-shirt with his massive arms crossed; a tall man in a washed-out suit slouching with his head bent down blinking away his tired red-rimmed eyes; and a woman in a restaurant uniform and coat, sitting on the bench playing Vamp Run as well given the background music sounding lightly from her phone.

Her gaze, however, lingered on the orc.

He was muscular with a towering height and humanish features with the exception of his greyish skin. He had hoggish facial features that were scrunched up together in a permanent scowl that was common among orcs. These features paired with their various tinted skin tones led to the racist slur “pigskin” created by none other than humans. No one dared say it to their faces, though, as their muscular and gruff bodies were not the threatening features, but their canines and boar tusks that peaked out of their mouth and noses were. Some would have them filed down but given the many hate crimes that took place, those boar tusks served as protection for them.   

A million shivers and memories hit Blair all at once and she reached for her flask, only to remember it was empty. 

Noticing her stare, the orc turned towards her, and Blair quickly looked away after being lightly growled at by him. Clearing her throat, she tried to refocus on her game to shut away his scowl. She didn’t usually stare at anyone out of spite unless she found something suspicious but her restlessness had dulled any control she had over her movements. 

The train finally arrived and Blair waited until everyone was inside before sloppily stomping in and taking a seat farthest from everyone. 

*****

By the time she had finally made it to the rusty tenement brick building she lived in at East Harlem, Blair had sobered up a bit. It remained a mostly human-populated neighbourhood, despite the changes in the other boroughs. 

The nap she ended up taking on the train, followed by another on a bench--which she was angrily chased out of by a homeless man who claimed the bench for tonight-- preceded by throwing her guts out inside a trash can on the sidewalk, had helped clear a little of the haziness that was bothering her eyesight. 

She walked into the elevator and punched the button for the seventh floor, leaning her head back as she waited for it to ding and stepped out to the dimly lit hallway. The walls were covered in torn brown wallpaper with scratched wooden surfaces. The doors of the other residents were scarcely decorated except for an occasional mat or potted plants that Blair always thought smelled questionable, but all sorts of sounds could be heard from above and from every door. 

Some residents were silent and asleep--Blair always thought those people were psychopaths. Others could be heard watching late-night TV, punching walls, breaking glass, lighting another cigarette, typing on their computers till their eyes bleed, or Blair’s personal favourite-- the thumping beds. Footsteps constantly stomped from every direction, and Blair always managed to catch each step as they slowly drove her insane when she tossed and turned in bed. 

She stomped down all the way to the end of the hall where her office/apartment was facing the elevator. 

Placed on her wooden door was a metallic coloured metal plate with the words Crespo Investigations engraved on it, and on the brown mat placed in front of her door were two paper bags stamped closed with a pink sticky note on the smaller one saying: Feed Topher! 

Blair rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Stupid fucking cat,” while digging for her keys from her duffel bag. 

She could almost hear Acacia replying stubbornly, “If you want him out so badly, then why not just get rid of him?” 

Because she hated all the tuna stored in her cupboards, so how else was she supposed to get rid of that? 

She finally found her keys and grabbed the two paper bags, she pushed open the door and stepped in before slamming it shut behind her with her foot. 

Her office was right in front of the door after the entrance by the wall. She walked over to it only to find a black cat jumping up and landing right on her laptop meowing loudly for food. Blair glared at Topher’s yellow eyes before setting her duffel bag on the ugly orange sofa in her office. 

“You have no patience, do you?” she croaked.

She placed the paper bags on her desk and took out the can of tuna. 

Topher immediately reacted moving towards it and sniffing, meowing desperately. 

“What are you so desperate about? She feeds you every fucking day!” Blair grumbled annoyingly whilst prying open the can easily and dumbing the tuna on the red bowl by the right window behind her desk, resisting the urge to hurl her guts out yet again from the fishy smell, “How does someone as small as you have the skill to make such a sound?” 

Topher jumped down to the bowl and feasted on his late dinner. 

Removing her leather jacket and hoodie, Blair threw them on the sofa and dug into her duffel bag for her camera. She walked over to her desk and plopped down onto the black leather chair, placing her camera on the desk. She powered up her laptop only to find the battery empty as the charging cable was dislodged from its dock and groaned loudly. Blair looked back at the culprit responsible for this but Topher didn’t seem to care as he continued to munch on. 

Sighing, she looked around her office and narrowed her eyes. 

Acacia pestered her constantly to decorate it or “liven it up a bit” as it would help with bringing in more clients, but Blair didn’t see the point and thought it looked just fine. 

There was a maroon carpet in the middle that covered up a bunch of dust Blair never bothered cleaning up-- and maybe a couple of dead spiders. Against the wall was the orange sofa that was probably the ugliest piece of furniture she ever laid her eyes on, but it did the job of being there whenever Blair was too drunk to make it to bed. It was gifted by her hallway neighbour, Alberto, who was cleaning his apartment out to fit in a little baby girl. She did not quite remember why she accepted it, but Blair decided she was probably just in a drunken manic state. 

Wooden shelves were placed by her desk and window that were completely empty besides a dead plant, empty bottles of various kinds of alcohol, and a framed picture of Blair, Acacia, and their former foster family. 

Her desk included the basics: a stapler, a printer, her laptop, discarded papers, a cup of pencils and pens along with clutter and extra stationery in her drawers. Behind her desk and between the left and right windows was a corkboard she used to pin up important reminders or case papers. 

To the left of her desk in the corner was Blair’s empty basic kitchen with basic white counters and basic grey cupboards that had a limited number of cups, plates, and cutlery. 

Then there was an open doorway that led to her bedroom and bathroom. 

The rent took up  most of what she had made per case for the shithole she was currently in. She plugged back her charging cable, deciding to print out the pictures of the cheating professor in the morning and grumbled a warning to Topher to stay away, before walking into the kitchen to put her dinner inside the green mini-fridge. 

Blair walked into her messy bedroom that included only an unmade double bed with grey coverings, a bedside table, and a wooden dresser. Acacia had also repeatedly complained about decorating her room, blaming the emptiness and dullness for her insomnia. 

Blair skipped past her lame bedroom to enter the bathroom, needing to wash her face from the grogginess she was feeling. 

Leaning down the washed-out green coloured sink, she turned the faucet on and sprayed cold water on her face. She reached for the yellow towel hanging next to the sink and dried off her face before looking in the mirror and sighing heavily. 

The dark circles under her upturned eyes had somehow become darker and deeper. She’d always thought her golden-brown skin would cover them up but she guessed wrong. Crespo used to tell her that she could unlock anybody’s secrets with only one look from her vibrant olive eyes-- now the only thing they were “unlocking” were the liquor cabinets. Her plump full lips that were usually naturally tinted with colour were now frowning and colourless. Her short raven hair was messy and unkempt from lack of care, and her circular face shape had become sharper with her cheekbones becoming more defined from forgetting to eat and the extra hours she spent pounding on a boxing bag. 

Rolling her eyes, she walked back to her bedroom and turned off the lights of the bathroom. She sat on her bed and took off her boots and pants, leaving only her green t-shirt on. She made sure her phone was charging and on vibrate before getting under the grey covers and turning off the lamp-- ready for another sleepless night.