for your entertainment (ed)

Despite the fact that Eduardo was not superstitious, he could not help but find himself to be rather uncomfortable in a cemetery. The idea of walking only eight feet above dead people was eerie to him. While most may come here to visit a family member who had passed on, Ed was here unfortunately, on business. There had been rumours that a dealer working for the Crows had set up in the Woodlawn Cemetery, and the sergeant in charge of his precinct had ordered him to check it out. He would think, that out of all the detectives in their precinct, there would be someone else more willing, with more time on his hands to look into something as pointless as this. Especially since they had no actual proof that there was someone selling in a goddamn graveyard.

Though Ed wasn't exactly surprised, as the sergeant had begun taking all sort of gang activity; whether it was real or not, into serious account recently. With the uprising of the newer gangs, the New York Police Department, in all districts, had been trying to keep detailed tabs on all gangs they were currently aware of, though it wasn't much on both accounts. These kids were smart; smarter than the ones the cops were certainly used to. Most of the detectives who were instructed to investigate gang activity were typically, men like Eduardo. Guys who had actually been involved in a gang one point in their lifetime. Some of them were impressive, though many of them had been wannabees, much to Ed's amusement. Perhaps it was segregation of the boroughs, but the Latin man swore that half of the detectives couldn't understand basic banger slang, which was almost hilarious. And less than half were bilingual, which had been typical back in Ed's day.

He supposed, that it was because of this certainty and arrogance that he graced others with, that had landed him this assignment. If he was truly as awesome as he claimed, this should be no problem for him, right? Especially since it was in his home borough, the Bronx. The Latin man sighed and lit a fag. He had been wandering around the creepy-ass graveyard for awhile now, looking for any signs of junkies, though nobody really stuck out. There were few other people here tonight, though most of them were standing in front of tombstones and crying, so they didn't exactly qualify. Soon, his dark eyes caught a glimpse of a man with bright white hair, having a conversation with some nervous looking guy in a big coat. Huh, maybe it had been more than a little rumour. Eduardo snorted and took a long drag of his smoke, before dropping it to the ground and stamping it out with the toe of his shoe.

Once the man left, Eduardo casually made his way over towards the man, his hands in his suit pants pockets. "Hm," he said, stopping in front of the other man. "An interesting place to sell, I'll give y'that."
he commented, his accent was that of someone most definitely from the Bronx, made slightly raspy with nearly twenty years of smoking under his belt. "Think of it yerself or were you put here?" he asked, looking at the other man. "Well?"

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words: 546
notes: god, i'm so fucking rusty. eAe;