Ava - Beginnings.1

Water exploded outwards as the car drove over the puddle. Harmlessly soaking the side of a nearby park bench. The rain hadn't stopped falling since Sunday evening. Ava peered out the window on the passenger's side. This would make solving a murder difficult, even for her. Rain was a detective's enemy. It washed away evidence, and rendered a crime scene useless. She hoped that the crime scene techs had had the sense to cover the body up, or her drive out to the farm would be in vain. She turned around the roundabout marking the outside of the city. It was free farm county now. The slums to her left, and hyper-wheat fields to the right, it felt almost ironic. There they were, starving, dying, and just two minutes away seats enough food to feed the entire country twice over.

Arriving at the farm sometime later, she drove down the gravel road marked only with a red handkerchief, wrapped around the fence post. The Bradford Family Farm was notorious with the police department, known for having sheltered Japanese way back in the late 1950's to prevent them from being round up, to now, having tie-ins with the Great North, a mafia that relies heavily on controlling the food supply from behind the scenes. Most of the elected officials were known to have some run-ins with the mafia, although nobody seemed to care. All was good. The mafia wasn't too bad, only asking for the police to look the other way when it came to their 'business'.

She parked her car, a gift from her late father. It was an old 08' Mustang GT. One of the few cars left that actually ran on gas, now that the electric revolution of 2025 had come and gone. Solar farms were popping up everywhere, with even brands like Walmart getting in on the action, selling their power back to the grid. She closed her door, making sure not to slam the belt in the lock again.

The crime scene techs gave her a small salute and hello when she crossed the tape, but other than that, her arrival went unnoticed, which she was fine with. It meant she could get to work faster. She knelt down next to the victim.

"Time of Death..." she checked the tags "12:00 AM, give or take."

That was normal. What wasn't normal was that the body showed signs of struggle, but was classified as a suicide. She called over one of the techs.

"Dornbucsh, get the Harris on the line. We're looking for a user. Possible corrupted user. And by the looks of the corpse, he's a professional."

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