Post by Azra on May 27, 2022 19:38:59 GMT
A cop car pulls into a driveway, rain bouncing off the windshield as the vehicle comes to a stop. It had been a rhythmic sound before when in motion but as Taylor's car halts the sound becomes more. She wasn't sure if she thought it soothing or annoying, sure it was a nice pitter patter but it was always sharper for her. On the opposite end she loved the smell. The stench ofnthe city was washed away. She didn't notice as much the odor of weed from the neighboring house. She didn't mind as much the hint of sewer leaking into soil about thirty yards down the road. She liked the smell of rain even if the sound was a mixed bag. All that water though didn't Chas away one smell, the cold air didn't push it away either.
It was the smell of a body.
Boots tread across the sidewalk carrying the detective closer. And the story becomes clearer, there's the odor of gunpowder. Four shots no, five whoever had the gun is still holding it. The grip was harder for her to smell it was still in hand. She ducks the yellow tape shaking some as the officer goes into it. The kitchen is on the right, food on the floor. She could smell it the odor of dirty footprints mixed with noodles. He was making ramen when someone came for him. He bolted she follows going around the table to the living room. And that's when she smells something burnt. The redhead pauses before the couch. She smelled the burnt fabric.
Somitting hot had cut through the couch trying to kill the victim. It was more a tear then a burn the weapon was more blade then fire. Both of course were curious though given well flaming weapons and blades were neither common in the city. Sure the superhuman was on the rise but she didn't know of anyone with something like this. She follows past couch and past the flipped over table. Heading into the room down a hall that was where the body was. Wait, there it was. She knew the smell bruised knuckles and other bruises to. It was a odor of blood but more specifically one under the skin. She supposed it could be internal bleeding to, but she knew on the fingers was the scent of food as well. She moves down the hall and getting closer she's picking up something else. Among bruises and gun powder, beyond the noodles there it was latex and Kevlar.
She steps into the room and there he was. THE CURVER.
CURVER was a vigilante in the area. Active for six months it was said he could move bullets. Make them travel in ways they otherwise could not he had been making a scene beating up on thugs and crooked cops. A number of officers and thugs had because of this been reaching out to private investigators. Someone to source out who CURVER was. Taylor though didn't think any of the P.Is would have some burning sword to use or come after CURVER themselves. No this was someone else, but who?
She kneels by the body jade eyes were sharp but her other senses were fiercer. There it was. The sizzle, the costume hid it some but with her nose she knew where to look. Hands slip on gloves then pull where the cuts were. Didn't want to disturb the crime scene but a little force would help better see the wounds. As she did this the slashes became clearer, they were clean carried through the body with skill. She knew officers when in a situation like this they cut harsher more haste and agency. She knew the usual criminals, they had more savagery. No these wounds were professional CURVER was not a vengeful kill but spiteful skilled one. It wasn't who he was, but what he was.
That said she didn't know who he was either. Look away from cuts and blood but to the face. Mask had been tossed aside and face beaten into. But she recognized him. James Jamenson Jamesen he had been a thief five years ago. Three years ago he wanted to turn over a new leaf spill names of thieves he knew. About seven months ago though he was denied chance to be used in court. It was all hear say and nothing concrete. He couldn't rat on criminals and now they knew what he did sense he couldn't. James had chosen to become a vigilante. And now the vigilante was dead.
Taylor though was busy distracted by the body. A observant PI could maybe find more. The table had been flipped over in the living room and on it had been a utility belt. A pouch marked with a E might be found. It had a vile in it of oil. An oil only found in three places of Sentinel. And in the kitchen besides where food once was was a document. It had photos of crime scenes, one who was a burning victim another who was a stabbing victim and another who was to beaten to be recognized yet how he was killed. Sure maybe someone might be allowed to enter the scene and might find these clues or others. James did however also know people. Perhaps someone else might stop by.
James had known many a thief and had been quite the flirt. Of course the people he used to know also knew James liked to ask for forgiveness. He was hooked on thievery but wanted to repent. He always compl a inedible about a nun who chastised him for not learning from his mistakes. He always praised the pastor he went to who knew all about judgment.
It was the smell of a body.
Boots tread across the sidewalk carrying the detective closer. And the story becomes clearer, there's the odor of gunpowder. Four shots no, five whoever had the gun is still holding it. The grip was harder for her to smell it was still in hand. She ducks the yellow tape shaking some as the officer goes into it. The kitchen is on the right, food on the floor. She could smell it the odor of dirty footprints mixed with noodles. He was making ramen when someone came for him. He bolted she follows going around the table to the living room. And that's when she smells something burnt. The redhead pauses before the couch. She smelled the burnt fabric.
Somitting hot had cut through the couch trying to kill the victim. It was more a tear then a burn the weapon was more blade then fire. Both of course were curious though given well flaming weapons and blades were neither common in the city. Sure the superhuman was on the rise but she didn't know of anyone with something like this. She follows past couch and past the flipped over table. Heading into the room down a hall that was where the body was. Wait, there it was. She knew the smell bruised knuckles and other bruises to. It was a odor of blood but more specifically one under the skin. She supposed it could be internal bleeding to, but she knew on the fingers was the scent of food as well. She moves down the hall and getting closer she's picking up something else. Among bruises and gun powder, beyond the noodles there it was latex and Kevlar.
She steps into the room and there he was. THE CURVER.
CURVER was a vigilante in the area. Active for six months it was said he could move bullets. Make them travel in ways they otherwise could not he had been making a scene beating up on thugs and crooked cops. A number of officers and thugs had because of this been reaching out to private investigators. Someone to source out who CURVER was. Taylor though didn't think any of the P.Is would have some burning sword to use or come after CURVER themselves. No this was someone else, but who?
She kneels by the body jade eyes were sharp but her other senses were fiercer. There it was. The sizzle, the costume hid it some but with her nose she knew where to look. Hands slip on gloves then pull where the cuts were. Didn't want to disturb the crime scene but a little force would help better see the wounds. As she did this the slashes became clearer, they were clean carried through the body with skill. She knew officers when in a situation like this they cut harsher more haste and agency. She knew the usual criminals, they had more savagery. No these wounds were professional CURVER was not a vengeful kill but spiteful skilled one. It wasn't who he was, but what he was.
That said she didn't know who he was either. Look away from cuts and blood but to the face. Mask had been tossed aside and face beaten into. But she recognized him. James Jamenson Jamesen he had been a thief five years ago. Three years ago he wanted to turn over a new leaf spill names of thieves he knew. About seven months ago though he was denied chance to be used in court. It was all hear say and nothing concrete. He couldn't rat on criminals and now they knew what he did sense he couldn't. James had chosen to become a vigilante. And now the vigilante was dead.
Taylor though was busy distracted by the body. A observant PI could maybe find more. The table had been flipped over in the living room and on it had been a utility belt. A pouch marked with a E might be found. It had a vile in it of oil. An oil only found in three places of Sentinel. And in the kitchen besides where food once was was a document. It had photos of crime scenes, one who was a burning victim another who was a stabbing victim and another who was to beaten to be recognized yet how he was killed. Sure maybe someone might be allowed to enter the scene and might find these clues or others. James did however also know people. Perhaps someone else might stop by.
James had known many a thief and had been quite the flirt. Of course the people he used to know also knew James liked to ask for forgiveness. He was hooked on thievery but wanted to repent. He always compl a inedible about a nun who chastised him for not learning from his mistakes. He always praised the pastor he went to who knew all about judgment.