- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
The body had been found by a homeless man, who had retreated under an old bridge just outside of Paris to nurse at a cheap bottle of vodka. It had taken him nearly an hour to notice that his silent companion was not merely in a comatose stupor, but was actually dead. He had gone to the police more because he was interested in seeing if there was any reward money than because he cared about the dead body, but within an hour the bridge was surrounded by officers, and the homeless man was carted away to the drunk tank so that he could sober up before they got his statement.
For someone who knew exactly for what he was looking, his signature was obvious. The forensics lady brought to the scene did not know for what she should be looking, specifically. What she could see was an odd set of circumstances, unlike any of the dead bodies the police normally found.
The victim was a middle aged man, with neither the carefully tended hands of the wealthy, or the heavy calluses of a laborer. He was dressed in a plain, cheap cotton shirt and sweatpants, with no socks or shoes. Heavy rope burns on his arms and legs made it clear that he had been restrained, with old defensive wounds on the arms and torso suggesting that he had been taken just under a week ago. But the cause of death was quickly identified to be a suicide, with a single bullet entering the mouth from a low angle, and gunshot residue on his hands. However, a thorough sweep proved that there was no gun to be found anywhere on the scene. The body had been moved after death.
When forensics gave her report to the leading detective, he was not happy with the results. He wanted clear cut answers. Was this a homicide or wasn't it? Eventually, she was forced to rule suicide as cause of death, even though everything else on the scene made it look like a homicide. The report was quickly filed away, with all the evidence logged into the French Criminal Database.
The moment the report was completed, it triggered an almost instantaneous reaction at the Interpol headquarters in Lyon, only 250 miles to the south. Five minutes later a phone call was buzzing through on the desk of one Amy Hastings, the rookie star only recently brought in from the United States FBI. Once she picked up the phone, a brisk, familiar voice would greet her.
"Hastings, we've got another one. It's him again. Get to the meeting room, now."
For someone who knew exactly for what he was looking, his signature was obvious. The forensics lady brought to the scene did not know for what she should be looking, specifically. What she could see was an odd set of circumstances, unlike any of the dead bodies the police normally found.
The victim was a middle aged man, with neither the carefully tended hands of the wealthy, or the heavy calluses of a laborer. He was dressed in a plain, cheap cotton shirt and sweatpants, with no socks or shoes. Heavy rope burns on his arms and legs made it clear that he had been restrained, with old defensive wounds on the arms and torso suggesting that he had been taken just under a week ago. But the cause of death was quickly identified to be a suicide, with a single bullet entering the mouth from a low angle, and gunshot residue on his hands. However, a thorough sweep proved that there was no gun to be found anywhere on the scene. The body had been moved after death.
When forensics gave her report to the leading detective, he was not happy with the results. He wanted clear cut answers. Was this a homicide or wasn't it? Eventually, she was forced to rule suicide as cause of death, even though everything else on the scene made it look like a homicide. The report was quickly filed away, with all the evidence logged into the French Criminal Database.
The moment the report was completed, it triggered an almost instantaneous reaction at the Interpol headquarters in Lyon, only 250 miles to the south. Five minutes later a phone call was buzzing through on the desk of one Amy Hastings, the rookie star only recently brought in from the United States FBI. Once she picked up the phone, a brisk, familiar voice would greet her.
"Hastings, we've got another one. It's him again. Get to the meeting room, now."