The evening air was crisp and laden with the whispers of a light fog beginning to form. The streets were quiet, but not entirely empty, as the final remnants of the late afternoon rush hour was ebbing to its minimum and the overcast sky had darkened with the grey ink of dusk. The colorful host of shops and cafes lining the street were still open but no longer bustling with activity, as they had been previously. The shadows that cloaked the surrounding alleys were deepening. 

Iris was settled into a far table, still donned in her smart work clothes - though, truth be told, she rarely wore anything else - whilst her trench coat lay draped across the vacant chair opposite her. A steaming teacup was nestled on a saucer besides her and she was stirring it absently, whilst her eyes browsed the newspaper laid out before her. But rather than any particular article, she was actually reading a classified case file that she had laid inside the page - if anything curious eyes joined her, it was easy enough to snap the pages short and claim an innocent interest in the daily news. 

The case file detailed a Mr James McCloud, who was apparently aged 23 years old and not only suspected to be guilty of countless theft incidents which victimized many high status, notable members of society (whom, it appears, have been specifically targeted) but was also a suspected mutant. And this automatically - Iris noticed, with a hint of annoyance - made his crimes several times more serious and worthy of official, special branch investigation. She swiftly stifled her irritation. Bad things happened when she lost a handle on her emotion. In the background, she distinctly heard the jazz music drifting from a nearby radio stutter. She exhaled calmly and the music returned to normal.

Taking a tentative sip of her steaming tea, which thankfully did not burn her throat, she returned to the case file and committed the blurry, CCTV image of James McCloud to memory. The picture was unclear and limited by the fuzziness of low-res cameras but she was fairly certain she would be able to pick the guy out of a crowd. For one, he wasn't expecting her. People rarely expected people like her to be related to law enforcement. 

She scanned the rest of his file but the detail on him were decidedly scarce. Mention of an orphanage, but there were no records. It was mild inconvenience but nothing she wouldn't be able to remedy once she caught the real thing. The only thing that made her thing twice was the lack of record on what his suspected mutant ability was. That could be a problem.

A headache began pulsing in the fore-front of her mind and she frowned. It was true that she had been working right through the week and would be doing so, right through the weekend, but this was no different from usual. She was a self-confessed workaholic and threw herself wholly into any case that was pushed her way, and that was the way she liked it. People only got in the way, controlled, expected. It was easier this way. A

The last thing that McCloud's case file detailed was where to find him. Though he had no registered address - presumably he had a property registered under a fake name somewhere - he had been sighted several times this week down this, and one other street. She taken a gamble, followed her gut and chosen this stretch. A quick tea break had been planned in order to refuel and brush up on her knowledge of this particular crook. After swallowing down the rest of the hot liquid, she'd left the drained cup on the saucer, along with a healthy tip, and slipped into her coat and gathered the files before leaving the quaint cafe. A faint chime signalled her exit. 

The streets were darkening considerably and she figured these were probably better conditions for McCloud. Men and women clad in expensive, designer trench coats breezed past and Iris smiled, figuring she was in the right place. Her eyes darting around furtively, she jammed a smart, nondescript hat onto her brunette hair, currently tied back in a low bun, in an effort to obscure her face and scanned her surroundings. She could sense the hum of electricity coursing through nearby street lights, which were just starting to illuminate as night drew nearer and she found herself pausing against one, waiting. 

Retrieving her cellphone out of her pocket, she dialed a number and listened patiently as it rang. Her eyes remained fixed on the passerbys.