[center][b]Greenlight District[/b][/center]

Klayde's remaining eye narrowed at the haughty elf bitch who'd dared step to close to him. In the past he'd skewered faeries for coming within dagger reach, but he needed information and if possible he had to avoid a wholesale slaughter. Killing ten defenseless elfmaids, even if they were whores, would not serve to enhance the Iron Police's reputation among the city's faery loving progressives, not to mention how it would enrage the fae themselves. "This brothel is harboring a faery guilty of code 1-41, assault on a human. Give her up for sentencing or I swear to Dagon and all the Gods I'll have each and every one of you given the iron brand."

Behind his partner, Jaden shuffled nervously in his armor. [b]The iron brand.[/b] He'd only done it once himself but it was.... horrible. A stamp of pure iron, in the shape of a pentacle, the hated symbol of both magic and the fae, pressed into the criminal's forehead. For a faery it was literally like being branded with a hot iron. Jaden remembered the horrible smell of burnt flesh, the smoke and the screams, Gods how he'd screamed. After that day, he'd prayed that he'd never need to give the brand again. Now he might have to brand, not some miserable goblin thief, but a defenseless, beautiful she elf. He focused on the alfar, so fair, so deceptively innocent, but he just couldn't look at her and he turned his head pretending to check the side streets for threats instead.