White Bricks and Bad Luck
Posted on Sat Mar 21st, 2026 @ 9:59pm by Crewman Emiliano Echevarria & Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acainus & Josef Forstinger & Ensign Luciana Aguila
2,200 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Shadow in the Static
Location: LAPD Central Station, 108 N Los Angeles Street
Timeline: April 1944
Hank pulled them into Central Station's lot with ease--which was odd, because he'd never driven a twentieth-century vehicle before. Not only that, but this was a manual transmission--stick shift--and yet, it felt like the program was aiding him. The building itself rose up in pale concrete and glass, squared off and entirely serious. Flags barely moved out front. A pair of uniforms stood smoking near the steps, their laughter cut off upon noticing the car.
Ruthie was the first one to get out of the car, slipping out carefully with her knees kept together and her skirt hem down as far as it could go. After all, she was a respectable young woman, no?
She thanked Hank for opening the door and offering his hand to help her up, an appreciative smile on her face that was framed by the perfect shade of red lipstick that matched her skin tone. "Thank you for the lift, boys. I'll be seeing you around the office soon, no doubt?"
Before getting a reply, Ruthie turned and started to make her way towards the front doors, nodding politely with a smile to the men outside as they watched her walk past.
Emiliano watched her disappear up the interior marble stairs and hoped he'd see her again soon.
The building they had arrived at was one none of them had ever seen if they had visited current--day LA. Its brickwork, architecture, and even windows calling back to days long gone by, even by the time of the program.
Once the group pushed past the curb and through the large wooden doors, their ears were immediately assaulted by the clicking of typewriters being used all throughout the building. Phones rang every other minute as patrolmen, detectives, and all kinds of folks walked through the hallways and large bullpen, occasionally bumping into each other. It was almost overstimulating--until a voice cut through it all, calling out to them, or rather at them through all the chaos.
"BRIGGS, O'MALLEY, MY OFFICE, NOW!" It was Lieutenant Taylor. He was a younger fellow, at least by the age standard of Lieutenants. Wearing a typical three-piece though his jacket was noticeably absent at the moment, unlike those they'd met earlier, he seemed in much better physical shape and health--almost suspiciously so. Perhaps hinting that he was at his current position not due to merit alone.
He wore a serious face as he pointed at the group, before sharply pointing his thumb towards the door behind him, leading to an office separated by wooden walls and foggy glass, and then stepping inside himself.
"Careful, Lieutenant Hollywood's in some real bad mood today," a passing Patrolman quipped at the group in an Irish accent before pushing past the door.
"Just wonderful,' Briggs muttered under his breath. That's all I need, Taylor in a bad mood. As if he's ever in a good mood. Or knows what the hell he's doing."
He was frowning when he made the comment, but smiling when he walked into the office. He didn't know what his superior had in store for him, but he knew he should at least pretend to be on his best behavior.
The office smelled like old paper and hot dust. Not to mention it stank of the ghost of old coffee that had died sometime before Pearl Harbor.
Lieutenant Taylor was already behind his desk, sleeves rolled, and his tie loosened slightly. The frost glass on the window of his door read LIEUTENANT in black painted letters.
Hank took the chair on the right through process of elimination and having watched Wally seat himself in the one on the left. The Lieutenant hadn't invited them to sit, though, he didn't need to. Power seemed to have a way of arranging furniture.
"So-" Taylor turned on his heels once he had gotten behind the desk, giving the two another staredown with the hint of a grimace--as if he had taken offense that they sat down, but said nothing of it. "You two mind explaining to me...your superior ....WHERE THE HELL YOU SLINKED OFF TO?!" his voice suddenly rose up to a yell, seeming to shake the clouded crystal glass windows adorning the office's walls.
"Not only did you vanish into thin air for-" The Lieutenant checked his watch, a thick gold-plated device. Letting out a scoff: "A good third or two of your shift. Without a car--without notifying dispatch or anyone else of your whereabouts. No, Briggs--you see, I am used to YOU pulling these kinds of stunts." The man dropped low on the other side of the desk, practically staring into the older of the two detectives' face.
"Now you've pulled the rookie along with you and teaching him your kind of stunts. So much so I've had to send people looking for you. You know the Mayor's been hounding us for weeks now--right? That this new unit is not 'fulfilling his expectations'. Say, what do you want me to tell him, that my men have nothing better to do than go for a nice midday stroll while this city is drowning in dope and some schmoe gets mugged on every second streetcorner?!"
A long, deep breath followed, Taylor straightening himself on the other side of his desk, adjusting his tie as he did so. His rant seemed to be over as his demeanor changed to a more calm yet still demanding one.
"I need something from you, Briggs. And you as well, O'Malley. Something newsworthy, front page news. And by that I don't mean barking after the dispatchers." his eyes shot towards Emiliano--or Hank in this case, a personal poke. Before tossing a file onto the table, he had produced from behind him. A few pictures spilling out--white bricks, cut into to reveal what seemed to be some sort of powder, or that's how the picture made it appear. A flower was printed onto each brick, resembling a lotus.
"So, to keep you two from sitting around and getting up to God-knows-what, I have a special assignment. These bricks of heroin here got recently picked up, leaving LA via truck shipments heading East. Find out who, what, how - and it'll get the Mayor off of our backs."
"Do we have any clues?" Briggs asked. "Anything to go on?"
Hank leaned forward and picked up the photograph, examining the drugs. "Sir, which case was this from?"
"According to the lab, this stuff's pure. Uncut, undiluted, and professional. Well, as professional as you can get with that stuff anyway," Taylor answered as he finally sat down in his office chair with a sigh. Getting out a cigarette case and an engraved flip lighter, he wedged a cigarette between his lips and ignited it with the lighter in a... obviously rehearsed... flip motion.
"And that flower's a lotus. Some eastern Jap plant. So definitely nothin' domestic. At least our local cooks are somewhat patriotic enough. Or at least it's nothing we got on file."
Taking a long drag, he then finally shrugged. "As for actual clues? No, nothing. But that's what you boys do, right? Find clues?" he added the last part with an overbearing snark while dropping some ash into a nearby ashtray. "But hey, docks are where I'd start. Or try asking some street rats. Don't care, but I want results from you two, and no slacking off, Briggs! Or I swear to whatever you hold some faint belief in that badge is gonna end up on this desk!" The last part was said with much more force, and also aided by the cigarette being rather aggressively ashed into the tray, nearly making it flip.
"That is our job," the Akadian spoke up, turning to his companion, then back at the man with the cigarette in his mouth. "Perhaps we should start at this factory you described. Where is it?"
Hank kept his eyes on the photograph as the other two men engaged in more talk. He wasn't so much interested in the product pictured. What interested him more were the neat white edges of each brick and the beautifully printed flower. Someone had an illicit drug operation and took great care to ensure the product was neat and squared. It appeared almost obsessive.
"So this factory," O'Malley said, piggybacking on his partner's question. "If it's anywhere near Slauson and Avalon, it's where I first worked patrol."
"Factory?" It seemed that the Lieutenant was about to launch another tirade at the two, but at the last second caught himself. "No, not a factory. Trucks have been seen leaving some warehouse over on the East side, by the river. City records have it listed as a cannery--at least before the war. After the draft, it started getting rented out in chunks to all kinds of folks--those who got the money for it anyway. Movie studios, stars, shady folk--you name it."
Reaching over the photos on Taylor's desk, Hank unceremoniously picked up an index card with the address printed across the top: 19678 South Santa Fe Avenue.
"This is over in Compton, where the creek runs into the LA river," Hank said, turning to his partner. He didn't know how he had this information, but it seemed to surface somewhere in his mind. "So weird."
"That is strange," his partner agreed. "But I don't think hanging around here is going to solve the mystery, no pun intended. Perhaps we should go check things out there."
He pulled his gun from the shoulder holster, checked to make sure it was loaded, even though he knew it was, then put it back in the holster.
"What do you say?"
Hank nodded in agreement before turning to Taylor. "We'll get right on it, Lieutenant."
The Lieutenant watched the two Detectives converse with slightly raised eyebrows. "Well, yes, I expect you to," he responded to Hank in a rather unceremonious manner. "Grab your car from the motorpool and obey the traffic laws! If I get one more report about running some stop sign, or the car has so much as a dent, I'm taking it out of both of your pay stubs." With such encouraging words, he motioned to the door behind them, clearly done with his part of the conversation.
Hank exchanged a knowing look with Wally. They had both been down this road with Taylor before; he was a hard-ass, but it was mostly performative.
As they made their way out of the office, Hank leaned in and whispered, "Ruthie has a photographic memory. We should bring her along and get her out of the dispatcher pool."
"Good point his partner replied, "I have nothing against strong women, especially ones who are both competent and useful. Let's do it, as long as you think she is both."
The bullpen swallowed them entirely again.
Typewriters snapped and phones rang, creating a cacophony that could only be matched by small-arms fire from last February's Battle of Eniwetok in the Pacific. In a far corner, a fan swiveled lazily against the heat, pushing around stale air that had already completely given up. The way may be overseas, but Central Station fought its own battles in triplicate.
Hank and Briggs cut through the multiple currents of uniforms and suspenders, finding their way down a long open corridor toward the dispatcher pool. It was a raised island of desks and switchboards where feminine voices traveled far and fast.
Ruthie sat among the wires with her headset on and a pencil tucked behind one ear.
Hank slowed without meaning to while his partner, the elder statesman, said nothing. As his eyes fell upon Ruthie--or Luci--his heart felt like they were now skipping beats.
"Ruthie!" he called over the din, a big sloppy grin on his face while he watched her work.
She didn't respond.
"Ruth!" he called again, this time louder.
It was just too damned loud in this section. He wondered how anyone could focus enough to get anything done.
He placed a thumb and finger between his lips and let out a sharp whistle that could have broken bones. The clacking of the typewriters ceased, all heads turned and all eyes were now on him in the doorway. An emergency operator with big blue eyes and a bouffant hairdo in the corner popped her gum.
"Sorry," Hank said sheepishly. "Ruthie, we need ya."
Detective Walter "Wally" Briggs (Osirin Acainus)
Mission Advisor
USS Astrea
Lieutenant Taylor (Josef Forstinger)
Civillian
USS Astrea
Detective Henry "Hank" O'Malley (Emiliano Echevarria)
Operations Officer
USS Astrea
(NPC of JB Dorsainvil)
Ruthie Sullivan (Luciana Aguila)
Structural/Environmental Specialist
USS Astrea
(NPC of Eirly Andersen)
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