When Khem received the initial vague call to head over to the coffee, interrupting her daily jog around Robin Memorial Park, she groaned at Claes, albeit agreeing to arrive. Abandoning her workout, she made it to the bike rack, unhitched her bike and cycled back to her apartment to quickly snatch up her knife, gun and badge. Her holster had just clipped into place when her phone rang again, this time from Max. 

She gave pause, dreading a conversation with him, no matter how brief, and let the phone buzz for a long few moments before plucking it up. “What’s even going on? You haven’t fucking told us anything!” She hissed into her phone and snapped it shut, not waiting for an answer. Like Max would give one anyway. He had a way of not recognizing that his teammates sort of needed information on shit before they waltzed off to do his bidding. He and Claes were rubbing off on each other. She grunted as she shouldered open her door, heading out onto the street again and hopping on her bike.

The ride over to the crime scene Max very briefly described only proved a breeding ground for her growing aggravation at having her workout cut short for no reason she knew of. By the time she leaned her bike against the building on the right alley wall, she was fuming. Claes, Thomas and Max arrived via the former’s car, and she began to approach when a commotion in the alley caught her attention.