Ah, the city of Chicago. And this, her finest precinct. So we hear, anyway. You open the station doors and are greeted with the smell of sweat, government issued disinfectant, cheap coffee, and... a hint of wolf?
Walking into the building, you overhear a criminal being threatened with a good "broiling". You go past the bullpen and see a detective muttering something about voodoo curses and the rising cost of pig's blood. You're about to approach Lt. Welsh's office, when you're sideswept by another detective and, apparently, a Mountie.
"Very sorry. We just need to borrow the Leftenant for a--"
"We don't got all day! Welsh, does my health insurance cover rampaging Canadian monks?"
"Actually, the Order of the Anointed Beaver aren't technically--"
The door slams shut, ending the conversation. Clearing your throat, you lean against a nearby desk and wait to introduce yourself to the lieutenant. While you wait, that wolf you smelled comes up to say hello, and leaves when he realizes you don't have any donuts. And wafting from the air vents, the rich, lovely sounds of Puccini, coming up the pipes via the opera fanatic in the morgue.
Welcome to your first day at the 27th Precinct, where characters from all fandoms band together to serve and protect the good people of Chicago.
...Or to harass, rob, and murder them, as the case may be.
Now taking applications.
[headers by rah]