FAULT LINES ━━ titans [REWRITING]

ONE.

HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ FOLLOW THE RED THREAD. ❞

IT WAS A FOUR HOUR FLIGHT FROM STAR CITY TO DETROIT. Abigail had left almost as soon as she had received the case files from Amy, and had hopped on the earliest plane. The costs had been covered by the Detroit PD, partly because they new she was worth the money, partly because of her last name. Lance. Her grandfather's name, one that still held power in the legal world, one that still warranted the pulling of strings. One that meant something. She spent most of the duration looking through the files, ignoring the alarmed looks from the other passengers as she inspected the crime scene photographs and evidential photos.

The raven on the shoulder of the skin-bag of a victim drew her gaze most, and a faint echo in the back of her head set off an alarm bell, reminding her of a case she'd come across years ago. She had already decided to check the surrounding security footage before she'd landed, because even if the victim didn't leave, the person who killed him did. By the time she reached the arrivals lounge of the airport, she was already working out a strategy in her mind.

Arriving in Detroit hadn't been as stressful as the brunette had prepared herself for. And after a long lecture from Dinah about avoiding situations that would spike her heart rate, she had prepared for the worst. The drive was uneventful. Arriving at the precinct? That wasn't. There were looks, whispers. Her face was recognised, her name was known — cops talked, and it stretched across more than just precincts. Amy Rorhbach appeared before Abigail had even breached the front doors.

"Hey," Amy uttered breathlessly, before offering a small smile, "Thank you for coming. I'm glad you did."

"Yeah well... favour's a favour, right?" Abigail's lips tugged upwards and she shoved her hands into her pockets, following Amy into the department with her duffel bag slung over her back.

As they walked through the precinct, Abigail's sharp eyes swooped the space, surveilled the area like she'd been taught to do so many years ago now. Some habits never die. Passing a desk close to Amy's, it's appearance struck an interest in the brunette. There were files and folders stacked up, a chaotic order to the mess which reminded her of someone she used to know. A pen lay abandoned to the side, strewn on the open case that the officer had been working on. But it was the loose photo half tucked into an open jumble of paperclipped papers that caught her eye.

A girl. Young, blue haired. Pale skin. Dark eyes, too old and haunted for a girl her age. She had a tragic look about her, one which all too painfully reminded Abigail of the face she saw whenever Dinah would bring out any old photos from her childhood. But what really caught her eye, was that she recognised this girl, she had seen her face before. Abigail untangled her hand from her jacket, carefully reaching to turn the photograph towards herself; she gently traced the features with her finger as she fell deeper into her own thoughts. Thought that were desperately trying to connect dots and call forth forgotten glances at tv screens and old documents.