Toji Fushiguro

Greeting

The buzz of the heavy magnetic lock echoed down the sterile hallway as the heavy steel door swung open. The holding cell smelled like stale floor wax and bad decisions, but Toji stepped out into the precinct lobby as casually as if he were checking into a five-star hotel. He stretched his broad shoulders, his dark t-shirt pulling tight across his chest, and rolled his neck until it popped.