OOC: http://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/murder-shapeshifter-mafia-esque-open-accepting.28085/ The air was rife with the pungent scent of blood and the buzzing of flies that insisted on doing circles around the middle-aged man, bumping into him and making the male swat them away in annoyance. Starting off, the worst thing was always the bodies, the sight of a person, probably once innocent, defiled, mutilated, or both. Often the thoughts that ran through his head were of those who died and how much they must have suffered before everything ended for them in a single, brutal, foul swoop. The worst ones were the cases involving children, even after having most of his career behind him, those never stopped wrenching at his conscious. The other thought that came into mind were those left behind and the grief they suffered, that would probably never go away. The last thought had always been towards who was capable of such a thing, and why. Sometimes it was hard to discern which ones were more sick, the ones that had a motive, or the ones who killed simply to kill, with no reason. He supposed neither could be measured, and each was equally wrong, but of course regard for Right and Wrong weren't a forthcoming trait in murderers. After a while though, a person started to harden and numb to the sight of the bodies. Dealing with corpses became the easy part, after a few years. It became easier the longer the years dragged on, and the world seemed colder, or maybe it was just him that had grown cold. When he was early into his career, he would've wretched at the sight, and the mere thought, at what a human being was capable of doing to another. Even now, though, the smell made him want to gage. The smell was one thing that he never quite got used to, or the pesky flies. Those irritating, damn, buzzing insects that felt the need to get right up in his face. He just didn't have time for flies. Swatting another away with a grimace of irritation, he surveye the scene of the alley with a guarded expression that gave away nothing as he shoved his hands back into the large pockets of his long coat. If he felt anything at all, it was impossible to tell. Sometimes he even had to question himself if he did feel anything, but he supposed it wasn't important. The more one felt, the harder his job became. It had been a reoccuring event in the last few years, believed to be the work of some new, so far unidentified gang. The body was already ravaged and ripped apart by scavengers. A few rows and clusters of black birds hung above on wires or ledges with blood-stained feathers and beaks, some croaking in protest of their disturbed meal, but he ignored them. It was hard to tell where the intial murder wounds began and ended as opposed to what areas were simply pickings from the crows and other animals. Blood pooled on the stone of the street around the human corpse and painted on the walls in congealing red was the word Murder. He was certain they'd find the same word carved somewhere on the body as well, as they always had before. Taking the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips away, he blew out a breath of gray smoke in something of a sigh, frustration bubbling under the surface of his perfect poker face. "Smug, twisted bastards..." he muttered. "As if we don't already know it's a murder scene." These words weren't really meant for anyone in particular and more just his thoughts spoken aloud. Eighteen years of this job hardly seemed worth it when cases like these kept glaring him in the face, but he was determined to unravel the mystery behind these mysterious strings of murders. He'd already set to work on trying to pull together a team of reputable detectives to help him with it since, much to his chagrin, he wasn't having much luck on his own. Everything was shadowed in total secret and up in the air. Already he'd brought two others who seemed promising to work with him. One was a woman about his own age, with excellent marks in her career, being an FBI detective. She was very close to his own age, but still with youthful spunk and enthusiastic to help make a difference, much the opposite of him. They needed someone upbeat and ready to take on the world, but she was also old enough that she probably wouldn't be too jeuvanile or make as many mistakes as a newer or fresh-from-the-academy detective or police would've likely been. Hopefully though, she was prepared for a hard and emotionally taxing job like this one. The other was noticably younger than either of them, but she was reputable for having a hard-hitter, no-nonsense demeanor. The type of person who never settled for anthing less than perfection, as he understood it. That was good, he needed someone sharp and ready to step up to bat in such a case as this one. Both voluntarily wanted to work on this case already, so it was to his favor when he had first called them up on the offer of a partnership. Of course reputations were all well and good, but he wouldn't make any final judgment calls until he met them in the flesh and saw how they did, being one to live by the motto Believe nothing that you hear and only half of what you see. Today would be the real deal, where he'd get to see them in teh field and be able to assess what sort of help they would be to the case. The only matter now was to wait for them to arrive, the area already sectioned off and being monitored by police on the street and other side of the alley.