Hostile Conduct (1x1 Psychological Drama) -- Cyncii + Sanka

[Sanka]

---

 

Sanka Amari flipped through the pages of the file with a casual air, feet planted firmly on his desk. His uniform was rumpled and creased from sleeping in it last night and there was a suspicious lack of buttons on the lower left cloth of his jacket. His tie was haphazardly thrown over his shoulder in a display of lackluster decorum. His hair, damaged from the blonde hair dye, was cleanly tied back with a clip, show-casing his larger forehead. His desk was a spew of half-written police reports and broken stationary. His messy corner was a stain on the other wise orderly and clean station. Sanka barely got away with it too, the Chief was always on his case about something or the other concerning his appearance. He didn't know why she was so anal about everything he did, he'd think someone like Chief wouldn't sweat the small things. She always chewed him out.

 

Groaning, he leaned back in his office chair and covered his face with the papers handed to him last night. The name "Jonathan Ramirez" glared back at him underneath the blaring red print labelled "Victim". A missing fifteen year old kid that was found murdered, genitals dismembered, and rearranged in his bed at his dads house. Sanka didn't want to look at anymore photos of the boys corpse and he certainly didn't want to think about having to talk to the boys parents afterwards.

 

When he had seized two bags of cocaine last week he had thought he would have been rewarded. If he had known they would have given him /extra/ work Sanka would have just let the assholes go.

 

"Take the rest of the day off Sanka, great job on that arrest Sanka, we appreciate what you do Sanka," he mumbled in annoyance, scrunching up his nose at the officers that gave him weird looks, "Do I get any of that? No. Of course I don't. I should have known a bunch of old workoholics would show their appreciation by handing me a new case file." Well, it would be a little misleading to say that he was handed a case file. It was more of a we situation. Which he was internally grateful for, he hated working cases alone.

 

"Hey Amari, I asked you to look over the file not make out with it," an annoyed voice came from his left. Sanka didn't even bother raising the papers off his face, he already recognized the voice. Codec was a slightly over-weight surly divorcee with no sense of humor and ambition. The two things Sanka couldn't stand. Purposefully ignoring the man, he sat up to look at a slightly older Puerto Rican man with graying hairs and a darker complexion.

 

"Sebastian, remind me, why am I on this case again? Wasn't four people enough? Did you really need to make it an odd number?" Sanka whined, his middle eastern accent slipping out in his faux agitation. It's not that he was lazy or that he hated his job, he just wanted a damn break every once and a while.

 

"Amari," the Puerto Rican man said kindly with an almost grandfatherly smile, "please hand in your resignation letter so I don't have to put up with your whining anymore." Sanka huffed, not at all offended. He wasn't a moron. He knew what effects his actions had on the people around him and as a result they found him obnoxious and childish. It wasn't that he wasn't aware of the fact, he just didn't care.

 

There were five members on the task force the Chief had complied. Officer Daniel Codec and Detective Sebastian Figueroa were the two superior officers in charge of the task force. They had an impressive amount of experience under the belts and it would have been almost intimidating to work with them if Sanka wasn't already such an obnoxious narcissist. He knew that there would be two more officers from his graduating class working with them as well.

 

One of those officers was Isabel Mercado.

 

Sanka remembered his brief fling with Izzy. It had been their third year in the academy and they had all gone out for drinks after finishing their last exams. It was there he bumped into Izzy, a beautiful brunette with long legs and nothing to hide. She had took one look at him and invited him to her place. Only to promptly kick him out in nothing but his boxers in -3 degree weather after he stripped while she was in the bathroom. Apparently "let's go back to my place" wasn't code for let's have drunk sex and more of a 'it's dark and I need you to walk me home'. It would have been an awkward encounter for anyone but Sanka was nothing but idiotically persistent. He smirked, twirling a straw between his thumb and forefinger.

 

Despite his protests and complaints this was the perfect opportunity to rekindle with her. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her since the last time they had a class reunion. Despite being openly pansexual, it was no secret that Sanka was extremely biased when it came to women. Maybe it was the etiquette instilled in him from his mother and sister but he always loved the unique beauty women offered. It was different than the gruffness that trailed along masculinity.

 

Dimly, he recalled there was one other person on their team but it was some unfamiliar sounding guy from the academy so Sanka didn't really care.

 

"When are the other two going to be here? I thought we were meeting at 10?" Sanka asked, glancing at the clock on his computer. His keyboard was rested on an array of different magazines, some of the papers folded at an awkward angle causing the keyboard to sit lopsidedly.

 

"I rescheduled to 11," Codec said casually, not looking up from his computer screen, like he didn't just ruin Sankas life.

 

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously, giving looks to the two men, "And what? You just forgot to email me?"

 

"He did email you," Sebastian piped in, taking a sip of his coffee, "and texted you and called you. If I didn't stop him I'm pretty sure he would have sent a messenger pigeon as well." Sanka looked blankly at them before reaching down into his pocket to check his phone. Nothing. A black screen reflected back at him. Oh. He forgot he had to keep charging these things.

 

"If you have time to whine tell me what you think about the file," Sebastian said gruffly, watching the two of him from his awkward position in-between their two desks. He hated his computer and he was rarely seen using it, preferring to pace the station while reading from all sorts of different notes or sitting in between desks.

 

"I don't know why you needed five people on this case," Sanka said with a bored inflection, "he ran away from home and showed up back home with a slit throat and a missing cock." A sharp hiss and glare from Codec made him remember that the victim (don't say his name) was only 15.

 

An apology resounded in his throat but his stubbornness refused to let him speak and he looked at his monitor ashamed of himself. Sebastian continued on as though Sanka hadn't said anything.

 

"We know that he was last seen in The Hellhound," he threw out casually, like he thought Sanka didn't already fucking know that the kid was seen in one of the most infamous club in Los fucking Angles.

 

"I don't know, oh geez," he said sarcastically, unintentionally letting his accent cloud his words again, "I wonder what he'd be doing in a club known solely for it's party drugs and shady dealings. Maybe he went to protest inhumane acts against leotard tights and leather jackets."

 

Codecs chubby face swelled red and his jaw clenched as he resolutely refused to turn around and look at Sanka. "The Hellhound is Hells Angels territory. They've been caught dealing illegal drugs and serving minors but they always got away with a slap on the wrist from the commissioners office." All three of them tensed at the mention of the commissioners office. It was one point that all officers and detectives could reach a conclusion on: the state was run by complete morons.

 

"Ok," Sebastian interrupted the both of them, "we know what kind of implications it draws for our kid here. There's a possibility that it's gang related. How are we suppose to investigate them? Do you suppose we go knocking on their doors, hello, LA PD here, did you murder and dismember a fifteen year old kid?" There was a second of silence before Sanka chipped in.

 

"Well, you know what they say. If they want to start beef give them beef stew. I vote in favor police brutality." A passing intern gave him a startled look and he shot her a charming smile.

 

"Again, I'm accepting suggestions from anyone /other/ than Officer Amari at the moment." There was a pause and a desperate glance in Codecs direction. The man let out a helpless gesture, throwing his hands up in the air like 'what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it'?

 

"Hold on," Codec said, looking towards the window, "I think the other two members should be here shortly. I don't want to have this discussion without them." Sebastian nodded, relenting his questions.

---

[Cyncii]

---

Noel Labelle's fingertips tapped lightly on the steering wheel. They lingered a bit longer than they should have, until he drew his hands back into his lap. He observed his nails, freshly trimmed with a dash of clear polish. The well-maintained fingers of his right hand lifted to his soft, blonde curls, checking in the mirror in order to hunt down any stray strands that would dare to compromise his "look." It wasn't as though he was really vain, no; he was more or less severely insecure. Stray curls? Fixed. Clothing? Perfection. Acne? Not a chance in hell. Though, the nature of his job required him to get a bit down and dirty sometimes, he supposed. At least, Noel thought, he could have a chase follow up in success on his end all the while looking damn pretty.

 

Why was it that he decided to fall down this hellhole of a route, anyways? Noel grumbled such nonsense under his breath when he reminisced. He could have been a painter, but he had heard of the tales of woe of starving artists and it discouraged the poor guy. Perhaps a professional violist, then? Severe tendinitis crossed that off the list, too.

 

"I wanna be a detective, maman!" the boy cried out to his bewildered mother, who found it in stark contrast to his artistic abilities. Noel supposed it was the parasite of a child-like wonder he had that eventually took over and consumed most if not all other aspirations.

 

Was that wonder still there? Probably not.

 

The opening of the passenger side's door caused Noel to snap back to the real world. In a state of minor surprise, his almost listless grey eyes found themselves upon Isabel Mercado. She was a strikingly beautiful, powerful-appearing woman with legs that could kill. Thankfully for her, Noel was wholly homosexual and had next to no intention of ever taking interest in her. Besides, she felt more like the sister he never had anyways.

 

"What's gotten you down, Belle? Should I be the one driving here?" the brunette spoke in a teasing manner, though that hint of concern was still more than present. "Kidding, kidding. We'd better hurry our asses, though. We're supposed to all meet up in a half hour." Humming softly, Noel backed out of the driveway to make a beeline for the station. A legal beeline, mind you.

 

"Other than you and I, there'll be... Daniel Codec, Sebastian Figueroa, and-" Isabel paused for a moment, then asked, "Who was that last guy again?"

 

"Sanka Amari," Noel responded promptly. With the memory of a damned Clark's nutcracker, remembering an important detail such as that was easy as pie. Whether or not Sanka was 'important' or whatever, he cared so little.

 

"Damn it." Noel peeked out of the corner of his eyes to find Isabel pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger in irritation. "A mistake, that one... ugh. This'll be awkward." Isabel's driver couldn't quite tell what was going on through the poor woman's mind, but he assumed it was nothing good. Noel wanted to ask why, exactly, Izzy was dreading seeing this, to Noel, nearly unknown officer, but he felt the matter should be left between those two.

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the rest of the drive was left in silence. They arrived at the station approximately ten minutes before the requested time, Isabel hesitantly exiting the passenger's seat. Noel almost expected the woman to trail behind him in order to half-avoid Sanka, but she had apparently bit her cheek in confidence and was instead pulling Noel by the figurative leash.

 

By the time they reached the door to the three remaining members of the task force, Noel could hear what seemed to be the end of a conversation, or just some random gibberish. Perhaps it was just some rummaging through office supplies that could be construed as human speech behind a door and several feet away. Whatever the case, they entered. They both appeared to make their entrance with confidence, showing grace in their steps. Especially Noel's. Why, he'd even decided to wear his nicest pair of high-heeled boots for this special occasion. With that, he may have in fact appeared taller than Isabel! How anyone could walk in those things for an extended period of time, let alone run in them, the thought seemed impossible and ludicrous. But believe Noel, he could do it, and he could do it well.

 

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. Noel... Isabel," Noel greeted with his soft, French accent spilling through his words like sweet honey. When saying his name, his eyes remained constant, then motioned to Isabel with them and a tilt of his head when he spoke of his friend.

 

Meanwhile, Isabel stared straight forward towards Sanka, with an intense gaze filled with cold professionalism. Noel still thought it was strange. He didn't get it. Sure, this Sanka guy looked like a total disaster, like a hurricane whipped through his body and possibly his personality as well, but still. Weird.

 

---

[Sanka]

The sound of sharp clacking against the hard floor of the station drew the three men out of their conversation. For a moment it didn't register with Sanka that it wasn't two women who entered the room. It was only after a moment of dazed surprise that he realized the person with high heeled boots wasn't a woman. It was a hard distinction to make but his features were only slightly more gruffer than a woman's.

 

As the two walked up to them Sanka couldn't help but notice that the gravity of the room had shifted unconsciously.

 

It was natural that people paid attention to Isabel. She was a woman who demanded presence, exuding confidence. If someone were to look at her objectively she wouldn't have been a stunningly attractive woman but there was something you couldn't help paying attention to. Maybe it was the quirk of her smile or the way she would linger in her actions, taking a moment too long to proceed.

 

The blonde introduced himself and Isabel. He was surprised at the accent that slipped out, although he wasn't quite sure why. France suited the androgynous man.

 

"I have so much to say about this and no good place to begin," Sanka began, his eyebrows scrunched together in giddy delight, "I like your boots Lancelot. When they said dress to impress I didn't think you'd take it so literally-"

 

"I'm Daniel Codec. I believe we've met briefly, I saw you on the Yaheya case. Great work officer," Codec interrupted, acting like Sanka hadn't even spoken. What a kiss ass. Sanka didn't know why it grated on his nerves but it did.

 

"People call me Sanka Amari," he said, a deceptively innocent smile donning his expression, "but you can-"

 

Codec groaned. Sebastian let out a tired sigh.

 

"-call me tonight." He looked at Isabel, throwing her a cute peace sign. She didn't look impressed, choosing to ignore him in favor of professionalism.

 

"Ok I'm going to stop you right there," Sebastian interrupted, "Let's get back to the subject matter while we wait for the final member to make her grand entrance. Noel, Isabel, we were just talking about a strategy we could utilize to question Hells Angels without rousing any suspicion. Any bright ideas?"

 

Sanka rolled his eyes, twisting in his chair to face Sebastian. The end of his jacket got caught in the process, rippling upwards and straining his white button up against his abs. "I was being serious about using brute force earlier. We're cops. Why should we care about 'rousing suspicion' it's not like we're criminals why can't we just force them to come down to the station?"

 

Codec sighed. "Yes, I'm sure that'll work out well for us. Hey there, LA PD, did you murder a fifteen year old kid last night? Even you should be able to realize that Amari." Did he mention how he sincerely hated Codec?

 

"Let's talk motive," Sebastian began, ever the peace keeper, "before we jump the gun we should be sure we have probable cause to suspect them. They might be a gang but even criminals have an order to things. What possible reason would they have for drugging and mutilating this kid? He wasn't involved in any major criminal activity as far as our knowledge goes. I think our first order of business is trying to find a lead. Talk to people. There has to be something about Jonathan Ramirez we don't know about."

 

"They live in the lower east side," Isabel said smoothly, not looking up, "It's fair to assume that their neighbors won't have any kinds of security cameras. However we can head down there this afternoon to question them. We have to question the parents regardless."

 

"Good thinking Mercado. I'll have the three of you go down this afternoon," Sebastian piped in before standing up, taking a position by Codec.

 

"By the time they had come home the body had been lying there for approximately six hours. The genitals were removed with an almost surgical precision and they weren't found anywhere on the crime scene. We're still waiting on a biopsy but there are bruises on his neck which normally indicates suffocation."

 

"Any witnesses?" Sanka asked.

 

"If there were we wouldn't be having this conversation," Sebastian said not unkindly. Sanka gave a small nod, putting together the small bits of information until he could build a clearer image of the situation.

[Cyncii]

The sheer amount of frivolity in that man's tone caused Noel to furrow his brows a smidge. What could he possibly say about this, whatever "this" was, that wouldn't be horrifically awkward? Perhaps it wouldn't be for Sanka, he did not know. Whatever it was, however, he would be certain it would make at least one other person in the room uncomfortable.

 

Well, he got his answer, as much as Noel wished he didn't.

 

Through plenty of depictions of Lancelot, he could determine that he was completely gay. He unfortunately got Vietnam War flashbacks to high school, in which he was in the back of the pit orchestra having to watch Lancelot get all cozy and comfortable with this girly-ass prince character in some musical. Slight jealousy may have sparked in the young Noel back then, and perhaps if his stupid arm pain kicked in a year or two earlier, he may have been able to audition for Herbert.

 

Anyways, though. Should he have taken that as a compliment, or "strike back" like Sanka potentially wanted him to? One of the two options were obviously leagues more fun to play around with.

 

Noel drew in a sharp breath as if he were about to respond, yet was cut far too short when Codec decided it was a great idea to introduce himself. His name, then an entirely kiss-ass comment that the blonde couldn't quite put his finger on whether or not he hated. Still, though, Noel wasn't an ass. Openly, that is, unless the other person truly prompted such a response. Which, of course, Sanka did.

 

"Why thank you, sir. I believe I remember seeing you there, too," Noel replied with a light smile, feigning a flattered look.

 

Finally, he could finally address that vacuous little comment about his boots. "Surely, though, anyone intending to get something done in this world should dress to impress. I can tell that you didn't get the memo," Noel remarked, that little smile remaining despite the words spilling out of his mouth and the snide tone of his voice. He could notice Isabel smirking a little at that. Great. If Noel could get her on his side with this, it would make this all the better.

 

He'd looked off to the side as Sanka introduced himself, only making eye contact with the guy as soon as he stuck that dumb little joke, flirting, whatever it was at the end. Unfortunately, in both of Isabel and Noel's cases, it was directed towards the former. Noel blinked a bit rapidly, then made a rather deep breath. Isabel seemed to be the only one out of the five that appeared to notice Noel's slight offense - and really, she sympathized with the poor guy.

 

Noel mentally thanked Sebastian for halting Sanka in his tracks. But ah yes, Hells Angels. They were quite a nuisance to Noel and fellow officers in the past, and in many cases he took concerning them, he was able to solve with relative ease provided his boss letting him utilize his more than unconventional methods. Perhaps this could have been part of why he was shoved into this task force.

 

Still, this case was a bit strange even for Noel's tastes. Who in someone's questionably right mind would find it practical to cut off someone's genitalia? Considering it was done with such precision, perhaps someone else wanted it. The biopsy may not have come back yet, but if nothing else was taken from his body, that would make this all the more strange. Surely, other organs such as his kidneys would take precedence over the damned penis.

 

"I agree that the first course of action should be questioning the parents. If anyone, they are likely to know the most about Jonathan. If not, then friends, additional family members, and/or the neighbors could be next in line," Noel reiterated and suggested. "Once the biopsy comes back, determining a potential motive behind what was done to the poor kid may become a bit more feasible."

 

Noel felt bad for not being able to provide much to the conversation, but with how little they knew, it wouldn't be all that good to start assuming things all that much. Mentally, he shrugged. Not much could be done at the moment, he supposed.

[Sanka]

Sanka took a sharp breath inwards at the snipe. A laugh quickly ripped through his throat, "Well, well, well, baby got bite I see. I'll be looking forward to getting acquainted with those sharp teeth of yours."

 

Sebastian interrupted the flow of the conversation with the sharp sound of his hands coming together.

 

"Let's take this to the meeting room, we have a board set up there so we can visualize the facts a little easier." And sure enough, as they entered the dingy area that reeked of cigarette buds and coffee grounds, there was a wooden billboard with all sorts of different clippings stuck together. Shit there was even string.

 

"Wow you really out did yourself Codec," Sanka laughed, because really, who else would have done something so extra besides Codec, "but you realize we're in the 21st century right? You could have just, I don't know, opened up a google doc lol." The man in question "accidentally" bumped shoulders with him as he headed towards the front of the room, to lead the conversation.

 

"Alright," he said as they all got settled, "how about we start with the cold facts. Let's circle the room to get a clear sense of where everyone is at with this investigation. Amari, why don't you start since you're already so adept at telling us all what you find wrong."

 

He shrugged nonchalantly, secretly enjoying the older mans remarks. Codec was an old middle aged fart with a beer belly and no sense of humor but his honesty was so cute. Sanka could appreciate honesty. He winced at the thought as his mind unwillingly wandered to the memories of his previous partners. He almost forgot what a huge piece of shit he actually was.

 

"Jonathan Ramirez," he croaked, his voice uncharacteristically horse. He flushed, taking a sip of his water before continuing. Well that was embarrassing. Once he didn't sound like a middle school boy going through puberty he went on.

 

"Jonathan Ramirez," he repeated with a sterner voice, "14 at the time of his disappearance, body found six months later in his childhood home with certain aspects of his form mutilated. There were no prints to be found on the scene, no hairs, no DNA samples." Well, that wasn't completely true. There were partial prints and DNA found it just wasn't enough to find anything in the database. Despite what the crime movies showed, you couldn't catch a murderer with half a finger print and a strand of hair. Getting DNA samples from a hair follicle would take months in the first place.

 

"From the stains and the way the body was positioned it was very obvious that the area around the body had been cleaned along with the body itself." Body, body, body, body. Never boy.

 

"It's almost surgical accuracy. I have no doubt that our murderer is a complete psychopath. I want to say that there's a possibly that there's a background in medical knowledge, maybe a nurse or an EMT. It's also possible that there's no formal medical education though, so that information could be potentially useless."

 

He shrugged here, preferring to state it rather than hide it away in uncertainty. Better safe than sorry.