What am I doing?

I pull on a fresh pair of jeans, the supple denim hugging against my cleansed skin, and slide on my boots, the tough leather offering a sense of comfort and protection. In the harsh light of day, I find myself questioning what I'm doing here. I don't have a client, and this investigation is on my own dime.

I look at the little cash I have left, the bills looking worn and creased. This is all that remains of my last successful case, the one where I found those poor girls and put a stop to that horrendous sex trafficking ring. A deep sadness envelops me as I stare at the crumpled bills in my hand. I know that this money won't last long.

Am I being reckless, or am I doing what I must do? I sigh, trying to shake off the doubts that are threatening to delay me. I'm here now, so I might as well see what turns up. Maybe I can figure out a way to monetize this once I have a better handle on the situation. I pull on my shirt, the fabric gently grazing my still-sensitive skin.

I take a deep breath, the adrenaline from my recent...activities fading away. I pull on the rig of my shoulder holster, the cold steel of the handgun it contains offering a sense of familiarity and reassurance. A resolute determination washes over me as I fasten the holster in place.

Regardless of what I have in the bank, the fact remains that innocent girls are dying. I can't, and won't, just stand by and watch this happen. Pulling on my jacket, I straighten my posture, shoulders squared, and take a moment to evaluate my next move.

On one hand, I could case the campus, searching for any suspicious activity or signs that could point me in the right direction. On the other hand, there's the option of hunkering down with my laptop and diving into the digital world to unearth any records or evidence that might help me solve the case. I weigh my options, considering the pros and cons of each choice.