It had been the longest day. But then again, it had always been that way for the last fifteen years. 

October 12th.

She knew she'd become increasingly difficult recently - much to John's disdain. It had put an obvious strain on their working relationship, the usually accommodating F166's patience was noticeably stretched tighter during the last few weeks. October did that to her, reminded her of the one moment she'd lost her best friend forever. F166 would never understand, would never accept it for an excuse. So she kept her reasons to herself, kept hammering out business and meting out justice as efficiently as she could in her preoccupied state.

Yeah, it had been the longest day. Piles of half-attempted paperwork and unfilled forms were left on her desk. Captain McBride had noticed the obvious slump in her otherwise stellar track record and had sent her home early. For the first time in the four years she'd been on the beat, she'd actually taken the chance to finish up and rest. Head resting on the thick glass of the apartment building elevator, Josephine stared out into the sea of lights in the endless night. [i]Don't think about it. Don't think about it. It's done. It's over. Let it go.[/i] She repeated the mantra to herself over and over, attempting to wash away the memories that lingered around her.

On autopilot, Josephine practically dragged herself over to the door to her apartment on the fiftieth floor. 5027 glinted back at her in sensible stainless-steel numbers. In robotic fashion, she opened the door and flung her pack into a darkened patch of floor. She sighed audibly, took a sweeping glance over the obscured shapes and removed her customized earpiece. John would probably have scolded her for removing her contact, but she didn't care. This wasn't the time. Not tonight. In one swift movement, she tossed the small item in the general direction of her police pack and slowly made her way over to the vintage sound system her father had lovingly tended when he was still alive. It played something called a "CD", something that could only be bought rarely at antique stores. She didn't know if she could muster the courage tonight. The pause seemed infinite.

Her finger hovered over the triangular symbol to start the machine, but something made her pause. She'd spent enough time on the force to recognize the smell of blood when it presented itself. Instinctively, the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle in anticipation as she padded over to the kitchen. [i]Man, no - corpse. Wrapped entirely in substance. Appears to be plastic. Apartment now illuminated. Close inspection shows item positioning askew. [/i] The sound of a single gunshot ripped through the silence and broke her train of thought. Years of strict training and discipline whirred into action. Her hands pulled the firearm by her left hip as a booted right foot broke down her bedroom door with a well-placed kick.

On the floor was a Caucasian male, six foot, clad in black. But that wasn't what made her freeze. The aim of her gun shifted to the form behind the collapsed figure. She'd seen him once before, but once was enough. "What the HELL is happening, John?" Her voice came out a lot steadier than she'd thought it would. Good. She would need the composure; because if F166 had taken the trouble to make his way to her, then she was in deep shit indeed.