Mica Rubino did not look like much. Standing only five feet and five inches tall with slender arms and a waist accented by generous curves, people didn't expect physical prowess. However, the young latina woman could hold her own in any hand to hand combat, fix a car, race, and jump with all the men. It was what got her here at such an age, though even she could admit she wasn't perfect.

The police station was a bustle of activity as usual. Sunday mornings brought out both some of the laziest days ad the most absurd. She wasn't sure which one this would bring, but probably the later. Her short leather work boots clapped against the stairs as she took them two at the time, on her way to the offices that lined the wall above the bull-pin. Her long dark curls were pinned back in a single french braid, tied off with a flash of mauve.

Barely even hesitating at the door of the police chief, she knocked before being ushered inside. "Sir," she nodded her head once. "You wanted to see me about something? Did...you have a case?" She couldn't help but add the question with a hopeful tone. She'd been promoted to detective a month ago, but she hadn't been given anything big all her own. She wanted to prove herself and get these men off her back already. A latina girl could hold her own!

"Well..." the man started, a glint in his eyes. "Perhaps I do. But first, you should meet someone..." He turned his eyes to the door again, seeming to wait for something. Who, Mica hadn't the faintest idea though.