---

"I'm gonna be working late tonight. Two of the editors quit last week so we're getting swamped." The voice over the phone said.

"That's okay. I don't know when I'll be home, either." Marie held the phone in one hand, and loaded bullets into an empty magazine with the other.

"Today's the day, huh?"

"Yeah. I've got to do this, it's personal."

"I know. It's okay, really. As long as you come home to me safe, I trust."

She smiled on her end of the call. "I know I never talk about him, but he was important. The closest thing to a father I had."

"That's really sweet, Marie. I hope you'll tell me more when we both get home. He sounds like he was nice."

"He was..." There was a loud clicking noise as Marie slid the magazine into a pistol. "I need to go, I'll see you in the morning, Nat."

"Be careful for me, okay?" Natalie asked in her usual worrying tone.

"Always."

---

Conveniently enough, Marie's office wasn't far from the police station. It was only 5 minutes away by car, and Marie quickly made her way inside. In her pocket was the note she somehow received at her door recently. Fraud cases were a common thing she dealt with, but this just didn't add up. Situations that escalated far enough for these accusations to be true tended to result in actual police officers arriving on the scene. Marie believed she would be able to remember something like that happening, especially if she was there. And yet, despite going through all of her records dating back to the start of her career, she found nothing. Either it was fake, or something else was in play here. The odds of her crossing paths with the Morse Code Killer, years before their appearances, and allegedly knew their father? They were slim odds, and the safer bet was that this was just a trick to fool her and her new coworkers.

But still, if it was true... Why was he there unarmed?

Marie eventually found her way to the place she needed to go. The room wasn't exactly inviting, but nothing showed on her face when she took a seat. She crossed her arms and waited for others to arrive.

Wendy woke with a start. He rubbed his eyes as he struggled to recall what had woke him but all to quickly he regretted his internal inquiry as he remembered his dream. The dream was close to a nightmare but something about it reminded him about the good times, back on the property. That said, it's content seemed to be an ill-omen, a precursor of things to-

No. This thought process was dangerous. He was still wondering where his brothers and sisters had went but he had to kick this way of thought. Dreams were dreams, the mind processing the info that the brain had taken in. With this rationalization cemented, Wendy checked his watch and got up from his couch and strode across his empty apartment. Aside from a couple of kitchen appliances and the couch, Wendy had very little to his name. He sifted through a pile of clothes on the floor, grabbing a dress shirt and socks, before putting on his work suit so graciously given to him by Brother Grim.

A handful of minutes later, Wendy was leaving the apartment, bagel in hand and smile on his face. He gave a nod to one of his neighbours who was just coming home for the evening who reciprocated the gesture but quickly made their way inside. Small talk wasn't something he got into much with his neighbours. He knew he was a little off-putting, price to pay for isolated with a group of like-minded 'whackjobs'. Despite this Wendy would keep his best foot forward and hopefully he'd break through one day.

---

With his binder under one arm and two hands full of seven coffees (via coffee trays), Wendy carefully made his way into the room. He quickly put his his drinks down on the table before taking stock of the room. He noticed a woman who had already taken her seat. Popping two of the coffees out of the tray, Wendy walked over and placed one down beside the woman.

"Not sure if you're a coffee drinker but I figured a little caffeine would help keep everyone present." Wendy commented as he looped back around and took a seat on the other side of the table.

"I don't think we've met yet; I'm Peter." Wendy said, extending his arm across the table for a handshake, confidently though the confidence deflated a little as he corrected himself.

"Sorry Wendell, well Wendy. I got by my middle name Wendell; not Peter. But most people call me Wendy." he clarified, getting his facts straight and laid out.

---

beep beep beep. The alarm clock continued to sound, as it had been doing for the past 5 minutes. The only inhabitant of the small apartment laid sprawled out in his underwear, with half of his body tangled with the sheets of the bed. Since today he got the night shift, Hank Doyle had decided to not show up to the usual work day, using that time to hit the cheapest bar he could find open at 3 of the afternoon, before crashing out until it was time. He groggily got up, one hand hitting the off button of the clock, the other wiping the drool out of his mouth. He sat there for another 5 minutes, looking at the wall, before going to the bathroom, where he took a quick bath, just enough to wash off the majority of the smell in his body, taking a piss in the shower in the process before going back to the bedroom, where he grabbed whatever clothes were nearer to dress up.

The kitchen, separated from the bedroom by a single curtain, was his next destination. Hank opened up the fridge, saw that the only edible things in it were a half-eaten instant ramen bowl and a semi-rancid apple, and decided to buy something on the way to the station. He checked that his gun was safely strapped to his hip and, with that out of the way, only one thing was left. He looked around for a bit, seemingly looking for something, before going over a stack of dirty clothes on the floor, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes still impregnated in them. He grabbed a coat out of the pile and rummaged in one of the pockets, finding a small hip flask in the left one. He opened it, took a sip, and nodded, the flavor of the cheap whiskey doing wonders to his mood. He donned the coat and saved the flask in its pocket again, before walking to the apartment door and going out. He didn't lock out the door, there was nothing of value to steal anyway, the smell emanating from the apartment might even scare out any potential burglar. Yeah, nothing of value indeed, not even the life of the person living it.

---

He took the last bite out of his burger as he entered the station. Contrary to what one would expect from a graveyard shift, the lobby was buzzing with activity. Everybody was working on this Morse Code Killer. Hank had to admit, in all of his years working in the NSPD, he had encountered an endless number of psychopaths, but for some reason, this case made the hair in his neck stand. Perhaps it was the fact that some officers working on the case had disappeared, perhaps it was the clues the killer left at the scenes of the crime, Hank couldn't tell why, only follow his instincts.

He reached the room, ignoring the look and whispers aimed at his back, those rat bastards thought they were being sneaky, or perhaps they didn't even care that he could feel their stares. He took one last drink from his flask before opening the door, years of experience making him do a quick, surreptitious scan of the integrants in it. Only two people were in it so far, a rather beautiful lass and a guy trying to talk to her. Hank didn't know any of the two, so he just nodded to them and took a seat in one of the empty chairs. He wondered who else he was going to work with in this case as he closed his eyes, trying to make use of the time before the rest of their "secret" force arrived to doze off a little.

𝚂𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛-𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚋 𝙰𝚝𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍-𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝟺𝟶-𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 '𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗' 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢.

"𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐." 𝙷𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍. 𝙰 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏-𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏, 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 - 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢, 𝚞𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕. "𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔. 𝙰𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜." 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎.

𝙾𝚕𝚍 𝚃𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝.

"𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘, 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙿 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙, 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎." 𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜.

@DarckLeon@rocketrobie2@Blizz

It took Wendy a split second to cringe at the images being shown, like his body had to catch up with his mind but his disgust was genuine as far as he could tell. There was a lot of feelings that Wendy couldn't tell the legitimacy of nowadays. Working in a blissful ignorance on The Property let Wendell remove himself from the horrors of the world and now being confronted by them once more resulted in Wendy often times reacting to things as he expected he should be reacting to them. This self reflection was cut short as Wendy realized he was day dreaming once more, too much introspection, and he snapped back to the meeting.

"I wouldn't mind checking out the Bay." Wendy put forward as he followed up his statement with a swig from his coffee cup. This swig of caffeine made Wendy realize just how much he'd overestimated the attendance to this meeting. Assuming everyone here took a cup he'd still have almost half his haul left over. A waste of money for sure but what else would he spend it on really?

He had already seen some crime scenes left behind by the Morse Code Killer, but that still didn't make the images easier to digest. All the bodies mutilated were once people that had dreams and aspirations that were snuffed out by a sick psycho. Hank wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in his or her head when they found the culprit behind these crimes. Sure, he would need to answer to the higher-ups about it but no sane judge would condemn someone for getting rid of such trash, at most he would get suspended without pay for a few days and get a slap on the wrist.

The slide show ended with an image showing three familiar locations. The other guy in the room voiced his opinion, choosing the Bay as his destination. Hank was ok with that, he was familiar with all of them but he felt more in tune with the Old Town anyway. To say it was a nest of criminals would not be far from the truth, but then again you could say that from New Seattle as a whole. The thing was this new killer was an outsider, someone who didn't fit into the equation that was the criminal underground of the city, so it was in the best interest of the drug dealers and pimps that the police could catch him soon.

"I'll take Old Town, have some contacts I can talk to in there" The plan, if it could be called that, was set. He would put an ear to the ground and find out if the rest of the trash squatting there could help sniff out the rat that was hiding from them.

𝙰𝚝𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜, 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛? 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑. 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚊𝚔 𝚙𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚞𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔.

"𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 - 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗."
@DarckLeon
@rocketrobie2

Raising his hand, Wendy quickly dropped it; this wasn't grade school. "This might be a redundant one but we've got clearance to access everything on the murders that have already taken place, right? I'd like to take a quick look through our records so I've got somewhere to start when I get down to the bay and, if I can help it, I don't want to be bothering anyone about why I don't have access to something." Wendy asked. He'd been stone walled before in his own investigations before so it was worth the effort to clear the air on exactly how much they were being told. Sometimes there was reason to keep some info in as few hands as possible but that didn't mean it wasn't frustrating to be on a roll and be greeted by an artificial dead end.