IzurichI don't see why we shouldn't make one.
thedman
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Fanatical Purifier
STATUS: Who needs drugs when you can just stand up really fast 5 yrs ago
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5 yrs ago
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Who needs drugs when you can just stand up really fast
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6 yrs ago
I think I need a new razor. Shaving feels like rubbing a slightly pointy eraser against my face five times.
1
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6 yrs ago
It sounds like God is taking a piss on my house outside
2
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6 yrs ago
Just noticed that my total amount of reactions recieved is equal to the amount of reactions given. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
1
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6 yrs ago
Nothing quite like powering through an assignment through sheer anger at having to do it
Bio
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No, we do not have a Discord.
Yeah, having a reminder of the time helps.
Welcome!
I've been assuming it's night time. Although, I could be wrong.
Scott looked away from Darnies, seeing Rebecca walk up. He gave her a smile. "That would be lovely. I'll have a Coke for the soda, and medium is fine for the burger." He hadn't eaten much, having skipped lunch in exchange for a granola bar and a coffee, and he didn't realize how hungry he was until food was mentioned. Besides, this place had good food. He'd only been here a few other times, and those were a while ago, but it shouldn't have been any different.
Looking down, he took out his notebook, and began to go over the notes he had taken. Apparently, there was a camera in the front of the apartments, and people were busy looking over the footage for any sightings of the perp. Other than that, they would have to wait until the autopsy was complete until they could get any more info. They could ask the media and get the public involved, but he was unsure if anyone would know anything. Better than nothing.
Looking down, he took out his notebook, and began to go over the notes he had taken. Apparently, there was a camera in the front of the apartments, and people were busy looking over the footage for any sightings of the perp. Other than that, they would have to wait until the autopsy was complete until they could get any more info. They could ask the media and get the public involved, but he was unsure if anyone would know anything. Better than nothing.
Scott could have sworn that the bar went quiet when he started speaking. Ignoring the feeling, he listened as Darnies spoke. He looked him in the eyes as he finished speaking. He knows something. "Nobody said anything like that. I thought that maybe you might know if anyone wanted Eric dead. But I think you know more than that." He paused, letting that sink in. "Tell me, Darnies...who are they, and why are they killing people? Do you know who they are?"
He leaned across the table, getting closer to him. "Have they gone after you, too?" His voice went down to a whisper. "You can tell me. We can keep you safe. You can be a confidential informer, you'll never have to appear in court. You won't meet the same fate, I can promise you that." He leaned back. "These men are killing innocent people. But you could help us stop them. If you know anything, anything at all...tell us."
He spoke up a bit, not whispering but still talking in a low voice. "I'll give you some time to think about it." Flipping to the end of his little book, he ripped out a blank page. Taking out a pen, he wrote a number down, sliding it across the table. "If you don't want to tell me in person, call this number." He shut his book, looking up. "If you need to talk to me, I'll be there. We can work something out."
He leaned across the table, getting closer to him. "Have they gone after you, too?" His voice went down to a whisper. "You can tell me. We can keep you safe. You can be a confidential informer, you'll never have to appear in court. You won't meet the same fate, I can promise you that." He leaned back. "These men are killing innocent people. But you could help us stop them. If you know anything, anything at all...tell us."
He spoke up a bit, not whispering but still talking in a low voice. "I'll give you some time to think about it." Flipping to the end of his little book, he ripped out a blank page. Taking out a pen, he wrote a number down, sliding it across the table. "If you don't want to tell me in person, call this number." He shut his book, looking up. "If you need to talk to me, I'll be there. We can work something out."
Sitting down in the booth, he couldn't help but notice the rag, and the blood. "I assume there was a fight? I saw the broken window." Taking out a small notebook, he began flipping through it. "Well, I won't judge. That's not what i'm here about." He flipped through his book until he reached a certain page. "Your neighbor, Eric Grayson. I'm sure you know what happened by now." He looked Darnies in the eyes. "Now, before I say anything else, I want you to know that I am not accusing you of anything. Everyone already told me that you were nowhere near the crime scene when he was murdered. I'm here because I think you can help me find his killer."
He was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. "One second." Taking out his cellphone, he put it up to his ear. "Greenfield speaking...really? Alright, thanks." Hanging up, he put the phone back in his pocket. "I'm sure you're aware of the recent killings, usually involving...strange weapons. I just got a call saying that Grayson was killed by silver bullets."
"Now, I don't need to tell you how strange this all is. I want to know what's happening, and who's behind it." Looking through his book, he flipped to a different page. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I've gathered is that Eric was on good terms with everyone in the apartment. He was well-liked. So, tell me...did Eric have any enemies? What kind of person would hate him enough for them to kill him?"
He was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. "One second." Taking out his cellphone, he put it up to his ear. "Greenfield speaking...really? Alright, thanks." Hanging up, he put the phone back in his pocket. "I'm sure you're aware of the recent killings, usually involving...strange weapons. I just got a call saying that Grayson was killed by silver bullets."
"Now, I don't need to tell you how strange this all is. I want to know what's happening, and who's behind it." Looking through his book, he flipped to a different page. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I've gathered is that Eric was on good terms with everyone in the apartment. He was well-liked. So, tell me...did Eric have any enemies? What kind of person would hate him enough for them to kill him?"
Detective Scott Greenfield had seen death before. Car crashes, tragic accidents, even murders. But this? This was something else. He could only shake his head as he looked around the inside of Apartment 2-M. The room was covered in yellow evidence tents, and several CSI investigators were looking through every nook and cranny, searching for anything they had missed. Scott turned his eyes away from the dead body at the corner of the room, and turned to the man next to him, one of the CSI people. "Find anything new?"
"From what I can tell, you were right." He said, looking over the dead body. "This was a premeditated murder, not a botched robbery. Victim was sleeping at the time, but was woken up by the blast."
"Blast?"
The CSI man turned and pointed at the door, which had a hole where the lock should have been. "We found explosives residue on the door. Perp used some sort of breaching charge to get it open."
Scott nodded. "Some people said they were woken up by a loud bang."
"Right. Then, our guy walks in, shoots the victim five times, and then shoots him in the back of the head to confirm the kill. Didn't try to steal anything, either." He pointed to the night stand. "We found a watch, phone, and a wallet in the night stand, untouched."
Scott grimaced. This was no accident. This was a cold, calculated murder. He didn't even know what hit him. Looking away, he began to step outside. "I've questioned everybody here, but there's still one more guy I need to talk to. Call me if you find anything."
The drive to the bar gave Scott some time to think about the past few days. The police department was struggling to deal with the sudden influx of homicides, all of them involving some sort of strange weapon or method. He was willing to bet that the bullets used in Grayson's murder hadn't been normal bullets, but he'd have to wait for the autopsy report to come in before he could be sure. Was it a deranged serial killer? A group of criminals? Some sort of cult? He didn't know, but he needed to find the truth, whatever it was. Hopefully, this Darnies guy would know something. He might have known the victim, and therefore might know any suspects.
As he drove closer to the bar, the first thing he noticed was the smashed window. The hell? He couldn't see or hear a fight going on, though, which calmed him down. I'll have to ask about that... His thoughts were interrupted as a group of men, obviously drunk, ran from the building like the Devil himself was chasing them. Oh. That explains it.
Parking his unmarked Crown Vic, he looked inside, and could see plenty of people. Walking into the building, he scanned the room. Two things stood out to him-the woman from the apartment, sitting at the bar, and a man with a bloody rag around his arm, sweeping up broken glass, who happened to match the description he was given. He stopped for a moment to listen to a woman-presumably the owner- talk to him. Two royal flushes in a week? Hoo boy... He wasn't here to prosecute him for scamming people in card games, though. There was something more important now. Doing his best to look non-threatening, he approached him with a slight smile. "Mr. Magula?" He took out his badge. "Detective Scott Greenfield, Gravette Police Department." He put away his badge. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"From what I can tell, you were right." He said, looking over the dead body. "This was a premeditated murder, not a botched robbery. Victim was sleeping at the time, but was woken up by the blast."
"Blast?"
The CSI man turned and pointed at the door, which had a hole where the lock should have been. "We found explosives residue on the door. Perp used some sort of breaching charge to get it open."
Scott nodded. "Some people said they were woken up by a loud bang."
"Right. Then, our guy walks in, shoots the victim five times, and then shoots him in the back of the head to confirm the kill. Didn't try to steal anything, either." He pointed to the night stand. "We found a watch, phone, and a wallet in the night stand, untouched."
Scott grimaced. This was no accident. This was a cold, calculated murder. He didn't even know what hit him. Looking away, he began to step outside. "I've questioned everybody here, but there's still one more guy I need to talk to. Call me if you find anything."
. . . . . .
The drive to the bar gave Scott some time to think about the past few days. The police department was struggling to deal with the sudden influx of homicides, all of them involving some sort of strange weapon or method. He was willing to bet that the bullets used in Grayson's murder hadn't been normal bullets, but he'd have to wait for the autopsy report to come in before he could be sure. Was it a deranged serial killer? A group of criminals? Some sort of cult? He didn't know, but he needed to find the truth, whatever it was. Hopefully, this Darnies guy would know something. He might have known the victim, and therefore might know any suspects.
As he drove closer to the bar, the first thing he noticed was the smashed window. The hell? He couldn't see or hear a fight going on, though, which calmed him down. I'll have to ask about that... His thoughts were interrupted as a group of men, obviously drunk, ran from the building like the Devil himself was chasing them. Oh. That explains it.
Parking his unmarked Crown Vic, he looked inside, and could see plenty of people. Walking into the building, he scanned the room. Two things stood out to him-the woman from the apartment, sitting at the bar, and a man with a bloody rag around his arm, sweeping up broken glass, who happened to match the description he was given. He stopped for a moment to listen to a woman-presumably the owner- talk to him. Two royal flushes in a week? Hoo boy... He wasn't here to prosecute him for scamming people in card games, though. There was something more important now. Doing his best to look non-threatening, he approached him with a slight smile. "Mr. Magula?" He took out his badge. "Detective Scott Greenfield, Gravette Police Department." He put away his badge. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
@AnaSilan Sunja When can we expect the first IC post?
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