prologue.
[ the start of it all ]

"ARE we gonna be okay at this?"

The black-haired woman managed to smile at the man when he asked, as she prepared the last bit of shots. The bar wasn't as crowded as previous weekend, and definitely was way more quiet. She liked it better that way. The dimly lit lighting, with the warm-colored LED lights around the walls fitted better in a quieter environment. She thought so, anyway. The man in front of her seemed to have a differing opinion. He, who was on the opposite of the counter, was tall, with a stubble on his chin, and a newly shaved buzzcut. He wore a black, quarter button top, matched with black skinny jeans.

"At what? The fact that you and your buddies are going to down stone-cold stingers this early in the night?" She spoke, her tone witty, setting the shots on the counter in front of her. She then motioned towards him with her hand, "I'll need your keys."

The man sighed, before reaching into his pocket to pull them out. He extended his hand, handing her his car keys, his hand brushing against hers. He felt a smirk on his lips form when she took a double take at them.

"Mercedes." She nodded with approval, looking down at the keys in her hand, "In New York, too. Nice."

The tall man let out a low laugh, letting the woman's words feed into his ego. He then leaned against the counter, "It is. Maybe after your shift sometime, you'd wanna take it for a ride."

The woman almost forgot to feign her smile, pausing for a moment as she narrowed her eyes at the man. He was enjoying this too much.

"Let me ask you something, John-" She began, leaning against the bartending side of the counter, mirroring his actions, "Is that the same car you used to transport the five kilograms of cocaine you sell to college students at frat parties?"

The man's face immediately fell, while jaw tensed up. It was a sight for sore eyes, ( or rather- her eyes, as she let a small smirk cross her face at the sight of his reaction. ) He stood straighter from his once relaxed position, as the woman could see all color drain from his face. She also got up from her own relaxed position, before pulling out her gun from her hidden holster.

"NYPD, you're under arrest." Sarah Tamada held her gun to the man standing on the opposite side of the counter. The words fell off her tongue simply, as she had been waiting to say them for the entire night, "Put your hands up where I can see them."

Before the man could attempt to run away, he turned to see another cop who was mirroring Sarah's actions. The other cop was older, taller, and much more angry-looking.

Sarah smiled to herself when she saw Raymond Holt's grim stare at the perp.

"Cuff him." Holt told one of the rookie officers behind him, and the latter obliged. Detective Sarah Tamada walked up to the older man, crossing her arms over her chest, a content look on her face as she watched the rookie escort the perp out the door, "Nice work, Detective."

"You too, Captain." She nodded, giving him a grin, "What a rush, am I right? It doesn't get better than this."

"You are oddly calm for someone who just completed a three-month undercover operation to catch one of the most prosperous drug dealers in New York." Raymond commented, and Sarah's grin faltered, "The 19th Precinct thanks you for your dedication. However, I do worry this case has taken quite a big toll on you."

"I'm alright, really." Sarah assured him, with a nod, "So, I'll meet you back at the precinct, and then we can debrief the case details? Ooh! Maybe we could call Kevin, and tell him my operation's over, so I can finally come over and try his homemade steamed pork ribs."

Raymond's eyebrows pinched slightly, before his face fell in realization.

"Oh. You didn't hear?"

Her face fell too.

"Hear what?" She let out a gasp, "Dear God- Kevins's dead?!"

"Why would that be your first guess?" He asked her, but didn't give her much time to answer before continuing his original statement, "No, the 19th precinct is dismissing officers due to budgetary cuts. We're being transferred."

He delivered the news a bit too casually, ( especially due to the fact that he just announced that would alter her entire life ). If Sarah didn't know him any better, his tone would make her think he was joking.

But Raymond Holt wasn't joking.

They were being transferred.

"Are you kidding?"

"Why would I be kidding about something like that?" Holt began, "Jokes are meant to be about situations that are funny, and there is nothing funny about a transfer. Unless, of course, we're referring to if you were to show up on your first day, wearing a tie with half-windsor knot, rather than an oriental knot. Yes- that would be very funny."

Sarah was too dismayed to even try and understand the point Captain Holt was attempting to make.

"I just finished a three-month operation, and this is what I get in return? A transfer?" Sarah's tone hit Holt's ear the wrong way. He hadn't seen her defeated like this in a long time.

"I understand you're upset, but this is the way things have to be." He told her. He didn't seem phased about the transfer. Or- maybe he did. Sarah was never really able to read his expressions. But regardless, his tone became quieter. She couldn't read him, but he could read her. He always had been able to, "This has to happen."

Sarah sighed, shaking her head. She had built a life here in New York, and at the 19th precinct. She was finally finding her place. And now, she was being transferred? It didn't seem fair.

But, eventually, she sighed.

"Well, where are we going, then?"

"We'll be reporting to Brooklyn's 99th precinct. Be there Monday morning, 9am sharp."

-