Dance of Words (Peregrine x Eternalfire)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Peregrine, Jan 16, 2014.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. 1: Homicide partners for just over a year now, Evan and Ben were on a case of cult killings. Their investigations led them to an abandoned section of sewers, above a residential district near downtown Philadelphia. However, the two men walk into a trap, setting off a series of explosives wired to take down all the tunnels in a quarter-mile radius. Unbeknown to his partner, Evan is a supernatural man, whose orders are always obeyed, by human or object alike. He prevents the explosion, saving himself, his partner, and the people who would have been caught in the collapse from certain death. However, the use of his powers come at a steep price, and Evan begins to become the power-crazed tyrant he believed he had destroyed fifteen years ago. Now it is a race against time, and Ben must come to terms with the truth about his partner and find a way to stop him, before the whole world falls under the heel of his boot.
     
    #1 Peregrine, Jan 16, 2014
    Last edited: Jan 16, 2014
  2. It was a little after two AM when the phone on Evan Tinsley's bedside began to vibrate, sending cascade of bright blue light onto the rumpled sheets and mop of untidy blonde hair that had slowly formed over the past three hours. It had been another late night at the office, sorting through never-ending files in the hope that he could find some sort of connection between the victims, a connection between anything, really.

    Mary Rice had been found in a little used janitor's closet in one of Philadelphia's many subway stations. She had been neatly dressed in a red gown, hung from the ceiling, and had her throat slit. The blood had gathered into a pool on the ground, and had slowly spread outwards upon the lines of a demonic pentagram that had been carved into the floor. She was the first of three victims, spread out over the course of a month. Whoever was responsible for the acts was getting bolder, leaving his, her, or their victims in incredibly conspicuous places.

    Evan was one of the few people in the department who could look at the crime scene and see more than violent murder. It was a creative piece of art, at least in the killer or killers' eyes. It was one thing to draw a pentagram on the floor in red paint. It was another thing all together to have the victim's blood do the painting, almost on it's own volition. Not only did it take a meticulous eye for detail, it took time. Concrete was not an easy thing to carve. Tile even less so.

    The buzzing of his phone was starting to get annoying, enough so that it prompted him to roll over and scoop up the vibrating piece of technology. "Tinsley," he muttered blearily. "And are you sure this couldn't wait another three hours?"

    "Quite sure, boss." How was it that Tarren could always coming across sounding so remarkably awake. What was the man even doing awake at this time of night? It seemed like a prudent enough question to bother asking, so Evan relayed it back to his phone. "What are you doing, Tarren?"

    "You remember that residue we found on all the corpses? Well, I've finally managed to figure out what it is."

    "And?" Evan pressed, not one for melodrama, and especially not one for melodrama when it was two in the morning.

    "Well, it's shit,"

    "Excuse me?"

    "Literally, feces. Also bits of food, some urine, lots of soap-"

    "What are you getting at Tarren?" Evan asked, finally irritated enough to bother interrupting.

    "Sewer water, man. It's sewer water."

    Suddenly Evan was feeling wide awake. He sat up, hurriedly slipping his feet into a pair of shoes by the bed and hustling over to the closet. "You are sure."

    "Hundred percent, boss. Well, maybe ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine -"

    "Have you called Watkins yet?" Evan asked, interrupting again.

    "Nine, nine percent," Tarren finished, "Ben's next on the list. You want me to wake anyone else up?"

    "No," Evan replied with the beginnings of a laugh. "He should do."

    Sewers. It was so remarkably obvious that it was no wonder they had overlooked them. There was a reason no one thought about the sewers. It was something that had been neatly erased from the consciousness of society, like scraping the scum off the top of a layer of filthy water. No one who didn't have to work directly in them wanted to deal with the sewers. It made it the perfect hiding space. And with a few access maps, Evan would be willing to bet this month's salary that he would be able to find a direct connection to all the places the vic's had been left. And a junction that unified them all.

    It wasn't the end of the case, but it was more of a lead than they had gotten in a month. "I don't suppose that we have some maps of the underground sorted away in evidence?"

    "I'll check," Tarren replied. "Wouldn't want you running into any alligators, now would we?"
     
  3. Two A.M, why always so early in the morning? Ben wished it was not morning but he knew it was something important. He sat up in his bed next to his wife trying to be quiet as he answered the phone.

    "Watkins."

    "Yeah, I'm on my way."

    Finally they had a lead. Ben had been trying to figure this one out for the last month, but he had no clue where the killer was going to strike next. His wife Angela always worried about him staying up late at night, but he did it anyway.

    Working with Evan for a little over a year now and he hoped to break more cases with him. He seemed brilliant in the position he was in, and he was happy to have him as a partner. They have solved many cases before this with ease. This was simple, harder than usual but simple. They had to catch the murderer, while not doing anything to hurt the guy, and send him off to jail.

    Ben put on his uniform and put a new clip in his gun. He kissed his wife on the head and then left for the crime scene. The drive there was as usual, dark and quiet. Ben never put on music because he always thought it would distract his thinking. He ran through the crime again.

    "Mary Rice had been found in a little used janitor's closet in one of Philadelphia's many subway stations. She had been neatly dressed in a red gown, hung from the ceiling, and had her throat slit. The blood had gathered into a pool on the ground, and had slowly spread outwards upon the lines of a demonic pentagram that had been carved into the floor. She was the first of three victims, spread out over the course of a month. Whoever was responsible for the acts was getting bolder, leaving his, her, or their victims in incredibly conspicuous places."

    Lord... what kind of mania would do something like this. Ben kept driving until he stopped at a McDonald's for a coffee. He needed something to drink, not alcohol, but something that would get him started. Tonight he had only gotten four hours of sleep, and he felt it kicking in. The coffee helped, but the feeling of laying in a nice warm bed would not leave him. After about ten minutes he arrived at the station and sat at his desk playing with an eraser waiting for Evan.
     
    #3 Eternalfire61, Jan 17, 2014
    Last edited: Jan 17, 2014
  4. One would think that at two-fifteen in the morning there would be no traffic on the road. Somehow, that was not the case. Evan found himself pinned behind two abysmally slow drivers, winding their way through the side-streets. He was so tempted to pull one over because there was no doubt that one, if not both, were horribly drunk. But he was in his own car, and right now wasn't the time to be wasting time. Ben would almost certainly be at the office before him, and there was a very good chance it would take all night pouring over the maps to find some suitable locations to begin their search.

    There was no doubt they were going to have to move carefully. The sewers were not a plesant place at any time of year, but the chance that the person or people who had committed these murders would be in there made the expedition even more dangerous. Send in too many officers, and they would almost undoubtedly chase away any culprit with a lick of sense. And these crimes could not have been successfully pulled off by someone stupid.

    While he was lost in his thoughts he was able to tolerate the fifteen miles under the speed limit that the two idiots ahead of him were driving. But now that his mind was more firmly fixed on the tasks at hand, Evan felt himself beginning to grow impatient. At first it was almost unnoticeable, but as soon as he felt it Evan turned onto a side street. He would take a different route to work. One where he hopefully would not run into any more traffic.

    Irritation was a dangerous emotion for Evan. It made him tempted to do reckless things, reckless things he had been doing his best to avoid for the past fifteen years. He was not about to fall off the wagon now for a couple of drunks who couldn't figure out how to work their own cars anymore.

    The precinct was never dark, not even in the middle of the night. Evan pulled into his parking spot and shut off his car before hurrying into the building. He waved at the guard watching the front door, who didn't even bother to slow him down. The night shift had become very familiar with Evan's face, as this was not his first nighttime excursion back to work.

    He pushed through the door to the main room, and walked his way over to his desk. He offered a friendly wave to Ben before sliding into his own seat, which was at a right angle to his partner. He spared one moment for a deep breath, leaning comfortably into the back of his chair, before sitting up. It was time for business.

    "Has Tarren brought up those maps yet?"
     
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.