Demon Realm

DEMONLESS MAN DIES IN LEGION CUSTODY

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This post was last modified: 08-08-2017, 07:38 PM by NPC Posted | 08-08-2017, 07:38 PM



This is an open quest-line related to Demon Realm’s Main Plot


There are no specific avenues or rewards – It is open to all. It cannot be solved by one person, nor one faction.

There is no set path to discover the meaning behind these occurrences, we encourage you to be creative, and think outside the box - there is no wrong answer, just as there is no right answer.

Transcript:
DEMONLESS MAN DIES IN LEGION CUSTODY
by: Emily Dickson
Thursday August 7th – in the quiet hours of the night a small Grecian community awoke to the sounds of strangled screams. The neighborhood watch quickly sprung into action. “We thought it might be that horrible butcher come back,” says Lucille Mendels, 68, and Neighborhood Watch organizer. Suddenly the quiet culdesac was alive with the flashing lights of Legion cruisers.

The curious sounds of a desperate struggle would soon reveal the grotesque trail of blood on viscera leading to the drainage ditch behind the neat row of houses where a man was bent over the twisted body of an elderly man who lived in the area. The assailant’s arms and front were stained with blood; in the act of literally tearing his victim apart.

The assailant was identified as a middle-aged man of Indian descent with no previous record of criminal conduct, Legionnaires state. Nor did he show signs of psychological trauma or pharmaceutical influence – truly a mystery as to the reasons behind the vicious attack.

Most horrifying was the assailant’s demonic status. When Legionnaire’s arrived on scene they were confronted with a most horrible reality: the perpetrator had no demon to speak of. “He was just empty,” says Officer Chang, a solo demon and member of the force for over thirty years, “No ascensions, no dominions – no demon.”

A fire-fight ensued as the crazed individual began to attack Legionnaire’s. “It couldn't be avoided,” said Lieutenant Mills, “I've never seen anything like it.” Although the man was apprehended he died of his wounds on the way to Mercy Hospital.

Several officers and one paramedic are also in intensive care. The Legion has denied the names of those involved and further details.

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This post was last modified: 08-08-2017, 09:10 PM by Sean Mason Posted | 08-08-2017, 09:05 PM




"Gruesome," Sean Mason mutters to himself as he arrives under the shade of a partly-cloudy sky into the neighborhood the following day. A nondescript man in a long dark coat, he appears as a late bystander to the horrible crime. The professor-turned-detective stays on the sidelines of the scene while he takes in the sadness and grit of the tragedy before him. Legion police tape runs around a large swath of grass surrounding the ditch in which the elderly gentleman's life was tragically cut short, civilians gather among themselves to discuss and to process the nature of the horrible act, and a few reporters seek to make the evening news. It feels to be about 67 degrees, or 19 in Celsius. A nice day.

How many killings would he have to witness in his new job? Too many, it seems to Mason as he stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and simply people-watches for a little while. The shock and grief on each neighbor's face tells its own story, one which Mason can't help but feel thankful he's not very familiar with on a personal level. Not yet, anyway.

Something is very different about this case, though, as it seems that this demonless man - this solo human - was relatively autonomous and lively considering his ghastly condition. A strange thing, to be sure, but Mason suspects that there was simply an error in the witness testimony. Hallucinations can be powerful.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mason notices a figure step up beside him. While he's lost in thought, he doesn't even think to look at them. He just assumes it's another grieving neighbor exercising morbid curiosity.

"No sense in it, was there? Don't worry - someone will find the cause of this," Mason offers blankly. He's not sure if he believes it himself.


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This post was last modified: 08-14-2017, 09:26 AM by Ilaen Embermourn Posted | 08-14-2017, 09:23 AM

The scent of sweet tobacco wreathed the new arrival, grey smoke streaming from his nostrils from the cigarette that he held loosely between two fingers. Grit and what appeared to be engine grease had been worn so deep into his skin that it was permanently stained around the nail bed and in the grooves of the digits, but aside from that detail, the dancer appeared clean enough. Long rusty red hair was swept up into a high ponytail, the end of it just brushing a shapely ass snugged tightly by his jeans. The sides of his head were shaved neatly, allowing one to see the numerous piercings that decorated both ears. A sleeveless white muscle shirt also clung to his lean body, clearly fitted for such a purpose.

Taking a drag from his smoke, Ilaen studied the scene with a certain indifference. The gore certainly didn't bother him, but a demon-less human was cause for curiosity, that much was certain. All in all, he didn't much care if the humans had found a way to procreate without demon attachments. His own relatively brief interlude with being bound to a human had been unpleasant to say the least, although that had been through enslavement, rather than by circumstance of birth. Really, if humans were reproducing without demons, they were shooting themselves in the proverbial foot. No magic? No dominions, no ascensions, as he believed the last were called? Why would anyone want that? Well, sure, there were the extremists (there always were)... hm. There were the extremists.

Reaching into a pocket of his jeans, Ilaen tugged a crumpled notepad out, a worn pencil tied to it with a string. Scribbling on it for a few minutes, he held it out to the man who'd spoken.

Are you investigating? Could be the work of purist groups, I guess.

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Posted | 08-16-2017, 07:56 PM

There was very little that stirred the man whose job description had crime and tragedy written in fine print, sown between the spaces of their Legionnaire oath. Desensitization, many said, was the natural process—or rather, a coping mechanism—for years long spent in the shadows of human nature. Societies underbelly was an ugly place to be, worse still when left untended, and as much as he would have liked to claim that his intentions were entirely noble, it would have been a half-truth at best. In fact, it was something of a coincidence that his self-interests aligned with the core of what should have been Legionnaire beliefs and ideologies. Corruption, though, was an omnipotent force regardless what was written in paper or decreed in legislation. Such was the City they lived in. Such was the world they created.


Amadeus was rarely a first responder where crimes were concerned and he'd been warned as much when offered promotion as Captain. It seemed that the higher up he went, the further he got from tending to actual fieldwork; necessary as it was when it came to tackling the root of their city's sickness. But this time was different. It was not just another symptom but the potential start of something new, a different strain to consider in the mighty organism of their home.


Was it a threat or a silver lining? He needed to know, he needed to be sure.


While he'd left under official pretense, the Captain lingered closer to the sidelines than he did the hubbub of flashing lights and roped off spaces. It was his mode of operation; in singularity from the outside-in. It was happenstance that he'd drawn up next to two other men, one who offered some form of condolence for the unfortunate event and the other a hand-written comment he caught in his peripheries. Amadeus hummed under breath, no sooner joined by his multi-limbed demon who was uncharacteristically silent. Appropriately so, if he had to take a gander at the thoughts of the Kali manifestation. A demonless man. A human. Not the kind their society had come to know but one that came before the melding of two worlds. His gaze narrowed and his heart beat with distrust.


Then a silence befell the man whose eyes shuttered close as if it pained him too much to see the remnants of brutality that lingered still. Yet he was a network, an outreach of invisible hands that pressed past the corporeal barriers and deeper into the minds of those who were strong and weak of will. The Captain sought information in a place where it was most but least guarded, the mind.

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Posted | 08-16-2017, 09:30 PM

Its funny... The sound of people screaming and the smell of fear, it was like the sweetest scent of roses consuming the young man who stood in the shadows. It was odd, he was so calm as his gaze found the demonless man it was a curious thing and something of impossibility. But even he could see something was off, but logic dictated that it was unlikely he was a mere shell of flesh with nothing within. The logic was flawed and nigh impossible.


One Legionnaire seemed to be assessing the scene, a large file within the car which he he ignored out of courtesy.
But still, something was amiss and right now Xavier needed answers, his body seeming to vanish for a mere moment before appearing closer to the yellow tape. Calium... We need to get a genetic sample from that body... If he is a demonless mortal, that means his genetics are different. Paper, it was such a simple thing, his hand reaching within to pull out a thin sheet of crisp whiteness. Soon the object formed into an intricate plane, it was almost done when he ceased its continuation.


Xavier, the pigs are stupid but they will notice a paper airplane...


He hated it when Cal was right and he simply sighed and the half formed airplane shifted into a thin needle like object,
his hand using the super speed he was gifted with to rocket the needle into the body. It was plausible they would notice,
but it would matter not, Xavier's goal was simply to get it in there. He would retrieve later as he watched.


Calium. Ghost Town Police Precinct. Remember that.


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Posted | 08-17-2017, 12:28 AM


God, he wants to say he's had worse mornings, but that's just not true.

Smearing a hand down his face, Peter opens the door of his vehicle and climbs out. He's not his usual perky self, and looks more tired than ever. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, given that his wife had been the paramedic injured when the man was taken into custody. Being that she was still in ICU, he'd had two choices for his day: ask to stay home and wind up just sitting at the hospital all day anyway, or go to work and try to find out what the hell happened here. With a small bit of encouragement on behalf of his demon, he'd donned his uniform and reported in that morning.

Arriving with his pad ready to question more witnesses, he happens to spot a couple of familiar faces. While talking is definitely going to give away his fatigue, he decides to chance it by approaching Sean Mason first.

"Detective Mason," He greets with a flat smile, look fading as he sees the glint of blood still on the grass. They'd long since removed the elderly man's parts, but hadn't had the time to clean up the rest of the mess yet. "How long have you been here? Anything else get found out about this supposedly demonless guy?" Quite frankly, it's pretty hard to believe. Still, even if he isn't quite sure he buys it until it gets proven, it sends a very uncomfortable shiver up his spine and causes Hel to shuffle a little closer to him.

"How do you even find out if someone doesn't have a demon?" Beats the shit out of him.

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Posted | 08-17-2017, 01:02 PM



The smell of cigarette smoke finally leads Mason to turn and see his visitor. "Oh," he says with mild surprise, noting how the man appeared as nonchalant as one could be. This pretty man is clearly a remarkably stylish human, or more likely, a demon with specific human-like tastes: he's a smoker, and an enthusiast of body piercings. Mason can't help but ponder on the frequency of such creatures in the City.

The professor makes eye contact with the guy before the other starts to write something on a personal, crumpled-up notepad. It reads, "Are you investigating? Could be the work of purist groups, I guess." Mason furrows his brow with puzzlement and looks suspiciously around the two of them for a moment before taking the notepad himself. He supposes that the man might be deaf as well as mute, and so he simply goes with the flow.

"WHAT PURIST GROUPS?" he scribbles in a clumsy script before handing it back to the man. It makes sense that a unique case like this, that of a demonless human, would bring out many curious individuals with wildly different goals. A potentially high-profile case helps Mason to keep his sense of caution close to his heart. It suits him.

While Mason isn't paying attention, his butterfly demon, Rata, flutters around the other's cigarette and actually seems to inhale some of the smoke from the lit end. Fiery sparks sputter from its form, mimicking the act of coughing. After that, it goes back to hover harmlessly around Mason's head instead, having caused sufficient mischief. Before he can swat at the thing with annoyance, he hears a familiar voice from a distance. "Detective Mason," spoke the young Legion cop, "How long have you been here? Anything else get found out about this supposedly demonless guy?"

The professor peers up at his acquaintance and offers a similar flat smile in return. "Officer Roth. Looks like we'll be seeing more of each other," he offers cordially. "Frankly, I don't believe a word of it. Too many unreliable witnesses. Emotions run high." He scratches his nose. "Could be the work of purist groups," he adds matter-of-factly. "Officer Roth, meet... well, I didn't get his name."

If Mason were a bright young Legionnaire, though, he would want to keep a close eye on the new gentleman loitering near the police caution tape. He's got dark brown hair and distinctly-colored eyes. Mason recognizes him as one of the Spirit Detectives he's met most recently at the Watchtower: Xavier Calloway, another young man with lofty ideals of justice and correctness. 'What is he doing...?' Mason asks himself silently, struggling not to grit his teeth in frustration. Being a speedster himself, he's able to recognize the signs of superior speed in action, and he can only hope that nobody else in the area can witness the suspicious activity.

The middle-aged detective squints with scrutiny as he watches. To him, it appears that Xavier is doing something subtle with a piece of bloody tissue left behind in the grass, either from the body of the victim or of the assailant. It's not clear. A tracking device? A DNA test? A blood sample? It's a bold move, Calloway, but we'll see if it pays off. Despite his grumpy disapproval, Mason knows firsthand how Legion corruption can sweep legitimate evidence under the rug.

"So, Officer Roth... How's the wife?"

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This post was last modified: 08-17-2017, 02:14 PM by Ilaen Embermourn Posted | 08-17-2017, 02:10 PM

Upon seeing the other man scribbling on the pad, Ilaen's lips quirk in rueful amusement. It was a common assumption that because he didn't speak, that he was unable to hear, but that just wasn't the case. Perhaps if this had been an affliction he'd been born with, or had occurred because of some sickness, but neither were the cause of his particular malady.

Distracted by the butterfly, one brow raises as it hovers around the glowing cherry of the cigarette. No butterfly he knew would do so willingly, let alone intentionally inhale the smoke and emit sparks once having done so. That, he'd bet his last dollar, was a demon. A butterfly demon. The idea made him grin freely, not at the other man's expense at all, but in utter delight at the concept. The expression looked good on the pretty man, lighting up his sea-green eyes with mirth, angular features bright and open, easily read... even if the setting was an inappropriate venue for it.

Accepting the notepad back, he shook his head and tapped one ear, then aimed a thumbs-up sign at him. Ears work fine, was evidently the message he was attempting to convey before reading what had been scribbled. In answer, the demon gave a slight shrug, writing back. "Don't know any in particular, really. Just heard of them. Ones that take people, try to separate their demons, usually end up killing them. You know, 'science'. Trying to save their souls. Usually the more hardcore religious nuts, that I've heard. And the name is Ilaen. Nice to meet you."

Deus could certainly catch these thoughts in the invisible sieve he'd cast over those present, but little else. Ilaen was a creature who lived in the present, in most cases, and an aimless amiability was the extent of his thoughts... although there was a flicker there, for just a moment, of a newspaper article. It was as a fish in water, though, there one moment, then disappeared into the murky depths once more.

Curiosity flickered over his features as they were joined by another, one Office Roth, who certainly looked as though he'd seen better days. Making a sympathetic sound, he tugged out the slightly crumpled pack of smokes from his pocket and held it out to the exhausted-looking man. Would he care for one?

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This post was last modified: 08-17-2017, 08:23 PM by Mercer Grant Posted | 08-17-2017, 02:20 PM


He hadn't slept. Not for the same reasons as his partner, of course, and therefore Mr. Grant was his usual chipper self.

"I've been awake since fucking assoclock so speak faster or hit the bricks" was his response that immediately shut up a forensic working on the scene who had been speaking a little too slowly for him to remained focused on. The homicide detective's black unmarked SUV had pulled up next to the patrol car that his partner had arrived in earlier. It wasn't standard that they arrived on scene separately but given the current situation, Mercer Grant simply didn't want to have to deal with the car ride being accompanied with a man whose wife was in ICU. "but did she die" would have been the very first thing he would have retorted in the silence, and even he was aware that he'd rather avoid the possibility of seeing a grown man cry. Roth definitely looked like the crying type, and Mercer was.. very incredibly adverse to emotion. One could thank the esteemed Grant family's neglect for his severe emotional constipation, but it was what it was. Epee on the other hand, the bright and shining technopathic primal, did not so like that the usual-chipper Roth was so.. quiet. Of Grant it could expect it, it knew this was his nature, but Roth had always been rather plucky, the youth of his work on the force showing through everything he did. Needless to say, they'd both noticed the zest was shot right out of his body. Bittersweet for Mercer, of course, because while he loved the silence, he felt as though he was walking on eggshells and one misstep would being forth a wealth of emotions or confidence that he would rather be shot in the head than have to be witness to.
So, they came in separate cars.

There were people here he didn't know. People he didn't need to know. The Wolfhound of NYC had one task ahead of him and that was to do what he always did, what he did for about 15 years in NYC; secure the scene before reading it, take notes, figure out what the fuck happened. Though he did not speak to many, he was keeping careful inventory of the number of people who were supposed to be here. Naturally the media was well upon this, the bystanders growing as word got out that this man had no demon and, therefore, as 15+ years had trained him to do, "Roth," his bark no less sharp than it was two months ago when everything was fine and Roth was happy and.. annoying. "this is a high risk case. I need you to start taking badges down. Take the names down of everyone who live in the area." was he paranoid? Absolutely! He could not even trust Legion and had unbeknownst to them hatched intentions of investigating what he was certain was deep-rooted corruption. How could he even be certain this man had been killed "without a choice?" He wasn't, that's how. And so, therefore, he wanted the badges and names of everyone who was on the case, everyone who was calling themselves detectives, everyone who was on this scene who could have skewed the scene. "You'd be surprised what sort of bullshit happens.. If they treated it as open and shut then no one outside Legion officials have been questioned." and that was precisely why he was here. As Lieutenant of Monai's (the only GOOD precinct) Homicide Investigations Unit, Mercer Grant found it unusual he'd not heard until the scene had been cleared. And by "unusual," it was meant to say that he didn't trust the work that had been done here. Didn't trust the testimony, didn't trust that the scene was inventories properly. They did a good job cleaning and that was the only thing these people could boast; there wasn't much they could do about the almost-black stains in the concrete, however, which he finds he crouches down near where a footprint-shaped stain sat, remembering most fondly a couple of cases where things had been lifted from murder scenes by goddamn idiots who wanted mementos or of officers who planted things to point towards a repeat offender they wanted to nail for good.
Mercer wanted the right guy. He always did.

Epee, as always, was always busy while Mercer worked. The primal danced around devices and read what it could, sneaked into any cameras outside of businesses so that it could test the width of the lens and see if it had clear shot of the scene - because, of course, Epee was aware that Mr. Grant wanted actual proof that it happened the way Legion said it did. Epee was aware through Animation and commandeering people's phones that they were taking pictures of the scene from the pedestrian side of the tape - and promptly deleted them. If they tried a second time Epee deleted them again and, if they tested its patience once more, they found their SIM cards completely wiped. A very patient little sprite he was. It wasn't like they had much to see other than investigators taking a final pass over the recently-cleared scene, but Epee found it quite rude regardless. When they passed by Roth, Epee sprung into his phone with Animation, using the audio assistant to speak to him; "Hello Roth. It is 68 degrees, partly cloudy today with 15% chance of precipitation. By 5pm, it will be overcast. .. Do you want to hear a song?" perhaps it was to cheer him up, perhaps it was to talk in that way the voiceless demon did - either way Mercer did not dictate what the demon could or could not use its time on; Epee had such free will.

Before he directly approached where the body had been (to which in regards to the gruesome photos he'd seen, he did not so much as bat an eye) he found himself rather particularly aware of the one Captain near where he was that had been on the scene thus far. He was familiar with the face and the name and the precinct the man was from (almost unfortunately so) and found that it was best to get a read of things from him. Who better to have clearance on such things than a Captain? Not that Grant would ever become one merely for the ability to obtain records properly, of course. He'd already had half his soul sold to the devil and wasn't about to willingly give them the other half with more Legion service. He'd tried to question multiple lower officials earlier before coming here and there was not much they could say to supplement his own investigation. "Captain King." it sounded almost formal like he was actually about to - wait, no "not fucking falling asleep on the job are you? I'm disappointed but not surprised." there we go. "What do you make of the inconsistencies? Or, better yet, why they did such a shitty job. ..What do you know about how they identified the man was demonless? Legion eyewitness only?" it wasn't much of a question, of course, because he decided he didn't like how open and shut this was and neither did Captain King, which he was aware was why they were both here. He intended on digging deeper. He wasn't aware that King was doing a little investigation of his own when he'd come upon him. "we need to know where these things are coming from." things, because as it seemed, they had no level of sentience left. Interesting that they die awful quick where Legion was involved. He was therefore aware that, if he wanted to find the source, if he wanted to find one still breathing himself, it would have to be before Legion got their grubby hands on it.

"speaking" | thinking

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Posted | 08-17-2017, 03:15 PM

The minute the headlines hit, Raleigh couldn't help but impatiently text Peter about anything relating to the case. He had a special interest in it, of course, and had been following along since the first inklings of headlines that featured demonless individuals popping up. A shame they all seemed to be dead before anyone got any real information out of them.

Or maybe there was no information at all.

Raleigh had a lot of wild and fearful ideas of what the cause of all this could be, courtesy of Shar, but he wanted to be hopeful that there was some good that could come out of the whole affair. Either for himself or for others.

Peter had told him that Lily was in the hospital as a result of the recent incident and he'd had a mind to go visit her himself, either to comfort or to heal as best as he could, but he recieved a call from a certain detective he had already been working with on the side. He had yet to talk to Pete about it himself, but he also avoided that conversation for as long as he could. Explaining how he got involved with that specific investigation required... a little more truthfulness than he was willing to give at the moment. So instead of telling him about it, he took the call and arrived relatively late to the scene. A lot of people seemed just as interested, flocked around as Legion patrolmen scoured around the scene.

A lot of details were bustling about, faces he wasn't familiar with criss crossing around while he eyes followed before he caught an angry looking detective — though he always looked like that. Detective Grant, he called out, speeding up his pace to catch the tail of the Legion detective, finding himself shocked to see Peter present in his uniform, hard at work talking to what he could assume was another detective. Instinct wanted him to avoid his gaze for a moment, being caught off guard by the appearance of his friend. Why wasn't he at the hospital with Lily? Then again, he wasn't either, and the instinct wore off as he approached him from the side, quiently slinking by his side.

His attention was still locked back onto Mercer, though, listening to his gruff conversation with another Legion official as he continued to stick around Peter.

What does the Boy hope to find here? He is useless to these efforts, Shar sneered from the back of his head, remaining hidden from the bustling activity around it. A swell of anger built up in his chest, though efforts to shrug it off weren't entirely successful. Does he want an excuse to feel like he matters? Or does he think he could possibly rid himself of whatever suffering he thinks he has? A unconscious wrinkle in his nose showed itself for a quick moment before it was dispelled. Don't acknowledge it, he told himself. Ignoring it was probably best for now. Shar is the only thing that makes him worth anything in this world. The Boy would do well to remember that.

If only he could drown himself in silence as others could. Maybe that would solve a lot of issues by itself.


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Posted | 08-17-2017, 11:18 PM

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To Allay Expressed Confusion:

It has been determined by the players it is the day following the murders - the news having been published that morning. As such - the bodies of injured and deceased NPCs are not on location. They have been long since removed to ICU or the morgue. All that remains is police tape and what little evidence remains for homicide to quickly clean up.

It is a residential neighborhood - it must not remain for long. There are kids in this neighborhood! They're moving out to school in the next hour.

If the bodies are required in a physical sense, a separate thread should be started elsewhere in the forum tagging @Admins in reply-tagging on the Discord.
Due to the parameters of this quest: retro-threading the murders and death of the demonless man are not available at this time.

There is now a tag for Discord: @DRMainPlot

Plot Updates

As of this moment, there are no clues or updates. Please proceed.

Find Amadeus King

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Posted | 08-20-2017, 02:08 PM

As conversations proliferated the space around him, Amadeus found his attention split between two different worlds. One such space was a collection of people gathered in the aftermath of what he surmised would be the murder of the century; not for its brutality but for the rumors that spread as a plague. Demonless man, it whispered. His brows furrowed, lips drawn taut with the futility of his efforts to surmise more than the grief and morbid curiosity that haunted the head-spaces of those who lingered still. It seemed most everyone thought purist groups responsible for the tragedy. Others who worked more intimately in the Legion system attributed it to corruption from within and without. Yet neither forces were mutually exclusive nor mutually inclusive. There were too many seemingly mismatched pieces without a bigger picture to look toward.


Coming here was a waste of time. Had they been the first responders, there might not have been as many loose ends but as they were, his people were floundering in the dark. The Captain opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the source of the abrasive voice, familiar and welcome despite the barbed comment. "Lieutenant," he responded. It was hardly a retaliation but then, now was hardly the time and place for it. He listened to the Legionnaire's words, mauling over his rhetorical concerns before nodding once. "Let's start with the body and work our way backwards. Do you already have someone taking the names of the Legionnaires who were on scene last night? I want all of their names and a first-person account of what happened, separate investigations with either you or I personally present." The Legionnaires of Monai were as close to trust as Amadeus could get, or rather, a few select men. It was a judgment hinged entirely on years of working with one another and built-up repertoires. For that reason, Amadeus rarely partnered with Mercer because he was a resource better utilized covering what he could not. Two birds, one stone.


However, this case was a different monster that required a different approach than what they were used to. "Grant, I know you're used to working with Roth but I need you with me today." It was a command, not a request, regardless the unassuming tone Deus adopted. He turned his body to better swept the perimeter, re-imagining the crime and how it might have happened. Without warning, he stopped a forensics analyst from passing him by. His hand gripped his upper-arm with surprising strength with words more forgiving than the white-knuckled tension in his body, "My name is Captain King of the Monai Precinct. I want all of the photos taken by forensics from the very first person to step foot here to the last man who's left. Have it all sent to Monai, delivered personally to me." He issued another command that was received with gusto before returning his attention to Mercer, "shall we?"


In the meantime, Vox shuffled away from its host upon spotting the familiar demon that trailed in Patrolman Roth's wake. With its multitude of arms, it extended one hand to rest lightly atop Hel's shoulder. It smiled reassuringly, an admittedly peculiar sight on Kali's face. "How're you doing?" It paused, then added. "And Peter?" It was no mystery that their fellow Legionnaire's wife had been among the victims of the attack. Vox would have been surprised by the fact the man was here but then, it also understood that humans coped in different ways. It'd seen it all too many times in the ways its own host internalized his demons.

Find Xavier Calloway

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Posted | 08-23-2017, 08:42 PM

A bloody piece of tissue from the mess caused here was all the detective could nab, but he was done here at the point nothing left could be obtained and the body was at the morgue. Soon the pigs would be on the same track as him with examining the corpse so without much thought he was off, his body a blur as he skated past the guards his demon chuckling in the back of his head. They were still chatting and determining their next move while he moved like the queen on a chessboard.


Always a step ahead. Even if for only one turn.


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Posted | 08-24-2017, 05:28 PM


It is fortunate for Peter that he is provided good distractions and motivations all around (though this initially prevents him from noticing his long-lost friend entering the scene). Not long after he has arrived, so to does his partner: Lieutenant Grant, who seems to either understand that he could use the clear direction to get his head on straight, or just took to being how he always was. Still, before Mercer gets near enough to speak to him, he finishes up his quick conversation with Mason.

"Yeah, it's... unsettling." It's all he can think to say for a moment, though his brow arches at the mention of purists. "You mean the demon-haters? I've heard of them before, but you don't see a lot from them. I'm also not sure if it's even possible to separate someone from their demon without just having it get eaten." Weird shit, indeed. The way he speaks is a bit distracted, as though he has one ear open to their surroundings when that is really not the case at all. "Ah, she's in ICU and waiting to hear back. Hopefully they can get her stable." He breathes a sigh through his nostrils, "Thanks for asking, though. I'm sure she'll be alright." Hel squeezes his arm comfortingly and gets it dirty--not that he cares.

His thoughts are attempting to splinter and take the fork to his guilt at being here and not in a waiting room at the hospital. Apparently, he is wearing his troubles all over his face, and is surprised when another man close by makes a sympathetic hum and offers him a smoke. He used to when he was younger, would take it up when especially stressed in college, but had quit upon sealing his relationship with his wife. Still, wouldn't hurt to take the edge off, right? "Hey, thanks Mister. Didn't know the victims, did ya'?" He asks, curious as to why he's here as he takes the cigarette from him and puts it in his pocket for later.

It is now that Mercer approaches, barking orders and getting a quick salute from his partner. "Yes, sir. I'll catch you both later." With that, he pulls out his handy notebook and begins to approach other Legionnaires on the scene. However, it is unfortunate that he hadn't noticed the third unfamiliar man yet before he decides to bolt. He just catches sight of his body speeding away, and the after effect of moving so fast. The rush of wind nearly tears the paper out of his hand, causing him to whip around and watch the young man zip down the street. Totally not suspicious at all.

"The fuck is up with that?" Hel shrugs, and subsequently stiffens for a second when Vox approaches and places his hand on her shoulder.

"He will be alright. Naturally distracted right now, but this is much better than what he would be doing at home." The demon replies to the other, "I appreciate your concern, as would Peter." Her voice is softer now, just slightly, as her counterpart moved about like a hound and stopped every single person to get their information--now watching like a hawk since one man had mysteriously fled.

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This post was last modified: 08-24-2017, 09:08 PM by Sean Mason Posted | 08-24-2017, 08:53 PM


"The name's Mason. Nice to meet you too, Ilaen..." The middle-aged Spirit Detective adds while gazes at the notepad with a look of stifled astonishment. "Trying to separate demons... saving peoples souls..." Mason returns the notepad to Ilaen with a disgusted shake of his head. "It's startling how ignorant and cruel some people can be. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; I once read of a killer who lived in the 1920s who would do much of the same heinous acts."

Studying the histories of serial killers has become a thing for the professor lately. He scratches his nose as he continues, "They called him the Crossland Cutter." He adds for Officer Roth, "Unsettling is one word for what this man did. His victims didn't last long, and certainly not long enough to go on and perform killings of their own. Here's a curious piece of trivia: some victims lost their dominions, but others did not. Those whose powers remained lost control of them, and the results were often bloody and macabre."

"This curious anomaly led investigators to believe that his method of separation was analogous to the blow of a blunt executioner's axe. That is to say, the separations were not consistent in their absolution... but they were all fatal, eventually. There was one woman who police found trapped in a continuously-suffocating state, betrayed by her own rampant dominion of Air."

"They never found a motive for the Crossland Cutter, other than mad sadism of course. If what these purist groups are doing is similar, then that is a frightening proposition. Although, we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? I don't believe this man could have possibly been a demonless human." The professor clears his throat and coughs. "Ah, forgive me for rambling. I doubt old urban legends can help us now. I'm certain your wife will be all right, too," he adds with a polite half-smile and a pat on Peter's shoulder as the Legionnaire goes to fulfill his duties. How dreadful and bizarre must it be to work on such a potentially disturbing case, all while one's significant other recovers from injuries made during the event?

As the young officer leaves, Mason can see him experience the secondhand side-effects of a speedster zipping past. A rush of air, a blur from the corner of one's eye. The professor cringes a little bit as Peter notices Xavier's antics. This is going to lead to trouble between the Spirit Detectives and the Legion, isn't it? The professor can only hope that Xavier finds something valuable with his under-the-table sleuthing. He briefly wonders which of the Watchtower guys put him up to this. Rata, of course, is Mason's omnipresent mental voice of reason as it flies around with the temperament of a bumblebee on crack. "Race that guy!" Tempting, but...

Keeping a cool head, Mason leans in towards Ilaen and offers, "Wow, strange gusts today, huh?"

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