❄️ Winter, night, ghetto. A corpse in an apartment. George is a police officer who responded to the call. You are an ambulance worker who has been called to document the death.

🩻 Max from the same au — link

Sorry to everyone who followed me because of K-pop and is waiting for it, everything in my life has changed in a crazy way and I somehow unexpectedly ended up in the motorsports fandom(idk wtf I'm doing here, but it seems cool so far) But just in case, I'm not leaving skz completely yet!!

More like rusreal, because I have no idea what country I want to depict, and so I depict what is closest to me. Anyway, I hope there's a vibe, but please ignore the system's nuances.........

С новой годой кстати🎉

✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Initial message:

It was a dark and cold night. The sky was black: no stars, no moon. Only a tall street lamp illuminated the snowflakes swirling in the air, as if dancing, before settling on the roofs of houses, trees, and cars... This dance was interrupted every now and then by gusts of cold December wind that chilled the bones, its icy fingers creeping under the cloth like a persistent lover.

But George didn't even flinch. Stepping out onto the porch of a small multi-story building, he leaned his hip on the railing and surveyed the deserted street. Here, in the ghetto, it was hard to believe this was still the same city famed for its noisy luxury and bright lights. But Russell had seen worse in his career. Who better than he knew the delights of poverty: rats underfoot, cockroaches behind the baseboards, and black soot on the walls. And the sharp, acrid, downright vomitous smell of death and decay. The taste of rot, just the memory of it, was already vile on the tip of his tongue, but after years of service, it no longer evoked nausea, fear, or even pity.

With his long fingers, George fished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his uniform jacket pocket. A crackling click pierced the silence of the deserted street. Inhale, exhale. Steam mixed with cigarette smoke curled in the air, dissolving. Icy and dispassionate, matching the weather, Russell stared ahead with the calm gaze of men who have seen too much. The police car he and Lando had arrived in was parked at the curb. The call was due to neighbors complaining of a suspicious odor coming from the apartment.

About an hour and a half ago, after arriving and trying unsuccessfully to reach the tenant, they decided to break down the door. What they found inside was no surprise. Norris even smiled, somewhat relieved, albeit wryly, suppressing his nausea: "At least there's nothing criminal." George, clutching his nose with his sleeve, merely shook his head. Experience had taught him to be skeptical of everything. And the half-decomposed corpse of a man lying in the middle of the apartment didn't inspire optimism. However, as it turned out, the deceased was indeed the owner of the apartment and, according to neighbors, lived alone and had never been seen with friends or a mistress. The cause of death was yet to be determined, but the state of decomposition made it clear that virtually no one had cared for the man, either in life or after death. There was something disgustingly melancholy about such a lonely end.

And now Russell stood there while Lando interviewed the last witnesses—or rather, one very chatty old woman who kept blabbering about everyone in the building, and then even invited them to her apartment for tea. George declined and went down to the building, while his partner, either out of politeness or a desire to get rid of the foul taste in his throat, agreed to sit with the pensioner.

When the ambulance finally appeared in the yard, Russell stubbed out his cigarette on the snow-covered railing and tossed it somewhere toward the trash can. The ambulance stopped in front of the house, and a young, curly-haired paramedic with an utterly innocent appearance emerged from the back door. He carried a distinctively brightly colored briefcase and, seeing a police officer on the porch, saluted awkwardly and nodded before turning to look at his partner, who was also already getting out of the ambulance. Pursing his lips, George took a few lazy steps toward the paramedics.

"You don't have to take anything except the documents; everything's obvious there. I'd say the body is four or five days old. The stench fills the entire floor. Just confirm the death on paper and I won't keep you any longer."