(( WARNING. SUBJECT MATTER IS ADULT IN NATURE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Read the rules and my horrible attempt at jokes here before getting involved!

Check out my sister thread to this one: Ten Minutes in the Life of a Serial Killer

~XOXO DD
))
__________________

MILLENNIUM CITY - Catholics attending the early sermon this morning were treated to a gruesome scene. Father David McClellan, the junior priest of the parish, was found dead at the altar in the early hours, police say. The nature of the crime was too horrific, one officer commented, that he’d never be able to enter the parish again without remembering it.

Investigators say that McClellan, 30, was found crucified beneath the crucifix on the back wall of the church’s altar. They also said that he had “been tortured” but refused to elaborate to protect the integrity of their ongoing investigation. There are no immediate suspects, as the victim was wall liked and respected in his community, says Martha Hartford, a regular attendee of the Church.

But not everyone felt the same. Our sources tell us that McClellan was under federal investigation for child molestation and abuse in Virginia, and that his abrupt move to Michigan was in response to pressure from Church officials.

Police refuse to comment on that investigation as well at this time.

___________________________________________________________________________

(( The participants as of 3/07:

@AZSolii as Darius Phen
ImmuneShadow as Weary
Kid Death as Kid Death
Astrosimi as The Peacemaker
Keioseth as Keioseth
Grumlen as Blacksheep
Celestial Comet as Celestial Comet
Sir Leetsepeak as Overwatch
Superior as Inkiddo
BlackstarRising as Psionistar

))

(( *Darius walks in the crime scene in Horatio Caine's outfit*

"Looks like Father McClellan...

*Puts on sunglasses*

...crossed the wrong crowd."

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I'm so going to hell for that...

{{Alternative Entry}}

"Huh...maybe he did it himself?"

...in all seriousness though, I'm interested. PM Sent.

))

((So I'm going to be a bit annoying here - my character isn't one that I have actually created in CO yet, but rather one that I'm still trying to find time for. Destiny, I'll PM you with details, but I'd rather not extrapolate here - I want to keep him a suprise.))

Detective Alexander O'Keefe threw the newspaper down on his desk, drinking deeply from his coffee. As if having to deal with all the aliens, superhumans and other monsters in Millenium City, it seemed that there was a human monster on the loose too. Not that many people would pay much notice - in this city, costumed criminals ruled the underworld, and after the initial shock, no one cared for a killer without a mask.

O'Keefe sighed. Chances were, he wouldn't get put on this case. He took his job a little too seriously, and some of the older cops felt threatened. Most of them were fine, good men, but just enough were envious or crooked to make O'Keefe's life difficult. It had gotten so that he barely did any crime fighting in uniform anymore.

But that was okay, because O'Keefe had a contingency plan.

O'Keefe leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and thought. He knew it was pointless - even if he had the case file in front of him he probably wouldn't have enough information to get anywhere - but there was blessed little else to do on a Sunday morning.

Possibly someone from the priest's old church, although if it had been, it was more likely that a note or message would have been left. That suggested that either there was something more to the priest's background, or - and the thought made O'Keefe's skin crawl and bile rise in his throat - the killer hadn't needed a motive, other than he was there and he was easy.

Suddenly his hands touched metal and he started. Looking down at his hand, he could see that without thinking, it had crept to his desk drawer. O'Keefe knew what lay inside. He didn't like it - hated it more than he could ever hate any killer, any rapist - but it called out to him and the need, the burning need, far overpowered the hate. For a moment he considered opening that drawer right then and there, but the part of him that had kept him alive all these years told him that that would be a terrible move. O'Keefe drew enough self control together to remove his hand from the drawer's handle and instead grasp a pen, settling down to begin his paperwork. But the need wasn't gone.

It waited, impatiently.

((If you don't mind, I'll definitely get in on this, sounds very promising))

Silence was a rare luxury in a city like Millennium and unless you had wings, a flying contraption or the innate ability to fly or disappear into your own little world, silence was sometimes very hard to find.

Marcus awoke stiffly and abruptly from another troubling dream. All his muscles tensed and he was sweating slightly which just made him feel more uncomfortable. It had been another glimpse of a previous life long forgotten when the 6:11 train to West Side passed feet’s from his room window, dragging him out of the memory. As the entire building vibrated and the glass threaten to break for the hundredth time he sighed. The bedroom being the biggest part of the apartment, he didn’t believe moving to the couch in his tiny living room two steps away would change the outcome; another sleepless night.

Reaching for the nearest shirt he swung both legs to the right and sat deep in recollection of the dream. He barely noticed that he still had grey jeans on and most of his clothes littered the floor from the front door to the bed. Tight black shirt on, he passed a hand through his disheveled silver-white hair by reflex. “It’s getting long” he whispered to no one. It was long enough for a very small pony tail now, months since he had shaved it off, well, maybe a year, at most, not important right now. Grabbing the nearest diary, one that was still on the bed he stretched to reach an iron pen on his small dresser. Opening the leather bound diary to a random page with still enough space to add new content, he started scribbling fast and talking to himself.

"...was in Europe i'm sure. I saw the clothes and the old sign on Perreau Street, 'Le Vieux Cochon'. 1600 hundreds or close. Maybe when I was hunting the Were's near the church of..."

The apartment started vibrating again and his voice was lost amidst the 6:18 train.

"...that's all I got" he said to himself and closed the diary with a heavy sigh. Looking around, feeling a bit nostalgic of a new memory surfacing through a dream again he reached for another diary, on the floor this time. It was used and old and was his favorite. It recounted the time, in 1520 when he had finaly rebelled against the King Christian II and had finaly been hanged for it. It also held a story of a crusade, love lost and a duel in a deserted church. Holding the book close to him, he held his breath shortly and finally whispered "a church".

Churches were usually silent, that’s why Marcus enjoyed them so much. Retracing his steps to the front door and picking up socks, coat, shoes and finally, custom made dark glasses, he headed out. He needed silence and he knew where to get it, Church!

Leaving his usual 'justice enforcing' gear behind he was about to learn that not all churches have a calming effect.

((OK, serious post this time. Sorry, just wanted to make a lol. ))

Darius Phen sat on the rooftop of one of the taller buildings, looking over the West Side. He had been officially discharged from Mercy Hospital, making a near full recovery, according to Wyrd's observations. The attack on M.E.T.A.-SWAT's garage was still vivid and sharp in his memory. Siris and his RENEGADE soldiers had assaulted them when they were vulnerable, and the officers that came to intercept them were nearly killed in the process.

In the aftermath, the garage was destroyed, and nearly all of the officers involved were hospitalized. Aeva lost half of her liver, Keio needed surgery to walk again, and Darius himself came to the shaking conclusion that his own abilities could have left him worse than dead. If he had held out any longer than he did--

The blue furred, wolf-like humanoid shook his head. It was not a pleasant thought. Since that night, he had been afraid to use any of his metaphysical ability: the Light which attributed to his newly registered alias of LightHowl. What would happen if he pushed even further? Even Wyrd was not convinced that what was broken was yet fully mended. Did he want to take that chance to find out in lieu of consequences?

He sighed as he dismissed the persistant thought which had been on his mind for several hours. He had hoped looking at what stars he could see in the city would help calm his thoughts. How long was he out there? Three hours? Four? He didn't know. All he realized was that his being out here was not working. Slowly, he slid back from the ledge towards the stairwell to ground level.

* * *

As he walked out onto one of the many dilapidated streets of West Side, a buzz from the MCPD radio caught his ear.

"...reporting a murder at the Church on...victim was tortured..."

Darius blinked several times. That wasn't far from his current location. If the murder was just reported, then it was possible that the murderer may had come back. Powers or no, he still held a mean punch. With a quick nod to himself, Darius ran over to the Church, not anticipating what he was about to see.

((Seems it's time to get The Peacemaker in on the action at last.))

Sebastian Steinman was normally not one to sleep, but for some odd reason, he'd felt the urge to do so last night.

He snapped up from his chair as his radio crackled to life. He was still in his labcoat, which lay over his casual attire. He managed to piece himself together as he remembered where he was.

"The Science Store?"

Indeed, Steinman had begun to doze off as a result of some late night science. Despite his main focus of astronomy, Sebastian was interested in all science, except the more Earthly ones. Unfortunately for him, he'd spent most of his night thinking of something interesting to experiment with until he fell asleep; Indeed, what scientific advances are there in a world where science is nearly at it's peak? Steinman had little time to ponder such a question as he stretched, for there came a transmission over the radio.

"Reporting a homicide... West Side..... murdered priest, torture confirmed..."

Steinman found some dark relief in the news; at last, a puzzle to solve. Everything before this had just been point and shoot, contrary to the meaning and symbolism of his superheroic identity. How do you even negotiate with enemies when everything just rushes you with blinding hate? The best he could do was incapacitate them. At least he'd do something a bit more subtle and non-violent by helping point the authorities in the right direction.

Besides, from the description of the murder in the transmission, the killer was someone who liked to play games, which was something Steinman certainly liked to do. Especially when he won.

Looking around, it was still early morning, and the usual store staff hadn't presented themselves in the quiet Renaissance Center yet. Just a few seconds later, The Peacemaker could be seen bursting from the safety of the city's hub, tearing over the skies of Millennium City to the crime scene.

"Showtime."

((So I've never done a forum RP like this before. When is it okay to move the story forward? Who decides how the story moves forward? How long should I wait between my posts? These are all questions on my mind right now. Help?))

((I would say, you can skirt the obvious...Make your way to the church or ask officers that were on site for details, make a few phone calls but I think most of us are waiting for DD's next post to have a bit more direction on where this is headed. I'll most likely post a bit later 'making my way to church and all'. If there was very specific rules, I think DD would of told us before.))

((Hope you don't mind me joining. I will be using Celestial Comet.))

"Ah, Celestial Comet!" As Celestial Comet heard the all-too familiar voice, he turned around to face the extremely pesky Foxbat. "What do you want, Foxbat? I'm kinda busy at the moment." Celestial said in a slightly annoyed manner. The two were facing off on the sidewalk, only a few blocks away from the church. "Ah," Foxbat replied as he raised a finger, "what else could I want besides revenge for how you ruined my plans to take over the WCOC!" Celestial only siged. "Typical." He said in a soft voice as he charged blue energy in his hands. "This shouldn't take long."

Keio sat at his work bench, on the bench was the gauntlet for one of the Meta-S.W.A.T. ACES. He yawned as he lowered his goggles and began scanning the device with the build in sensors in the goggles. Aeva had complained that the gauntlet was allowing her the mobility she needed and he’d taken it to attempt to fix it. Near him was a cup of coffee, several chewed on toothpicks, and a wrapper for a burger. In the background, a mixed playlist of Rock, Metal, and Techno played over his workshop’s surround sound system.

He placed a fresh toothpick in him mouth and went back to working, taking a break for a sip of coffee. Just then the CG face for Meta-S.W.A.T.’s AI appeared on the HUD of his goggles.

“Aura, what can I do you for?” Keio said without skipping a beat as he tinkered with the gauntlet.

“I am receiving a police call on the Westside. A murder has happened.”

“Surprise, surprise. Did MCPD ask for us?”

“Negative but the victim was tortured and he was a priest at a local church. Sending files to your goggles.”

Keio read the report so far, “Okay…give me the locations on all team members within city limits.” A few seconds later the team’s locator beacons appears on a virtual map on the HUD.

“Sgt. Phen is closest to the incident. I believe he is on his way to the scene.”

Keio nodded, “Alright, patch me through to him.” A few more seconds passed and a small image of Darius appears as Aura patched him into his teammate, “Darius, it’s Keio, report in.”

Blacksheep made his way up the fire escape of a weathered apartment building of Westside, peering into the windows as he scurried past. A man reading a book, a family eating dinner, a man squatting in the bathro-- he decided it was best to watch where he was going instead. Making his way to the building's roof, Blacksheep found the highest point; that of an air duct intertwining itself around the many objects littering the top. He glanced around to get a view of his surroundings before crouching down to rest his eyes.

Cars set ablaze by rowdy teenagers growled amongst the constant beeping of car alarms. Blacksheep got up, shaking his head. He would never find quiet in this part of town. Climbing back down the fire escape, his eager eyes caught glimpse of of a flickering TV screen alone in an otherwise dark and empty room. The costumed critter placed his ear closer to the window, listening intently to the new report.

Throughout the coverage, Blacksheep's head twitched in confusion. He never could relate to humans, nor understand why they killed so often. And in such elaborate ways.

Blacksheep's silhouette stretched an eerie shadow into the room, and not long after the news report ended, a man swatted at his window with a shoe, shouting "Git!" He backed away and rushed down the remainder of the fire escape, stumbling in his haste and falling into a trash bin.

This would be a typical night for the costumed creature, if not for what caught his eye on that flickering screen. Blacksheep hopped out of the bin and raised his head, alert. Bits of garbage dropped from his back as he made his way out to the street, eager to find that church.

Celestial Comet charged at Foxbat, narrowly missing one of the balls shot from Foxbat'a unusual weapon. Now close to Foxbat, Celestial Comet used all of his might to uppercut Foxbat in the jaw. The force of the blow sent Foxbat flying backwards, landing hard on the ground as he grunted. Celestial Comet seized this oppurtunity to charge a ball of celestial energy. As Foxbat got up, Comet fired the energy ball. Foxbat was hit again. "Give up now, Celestial Comet!" Foxbat yelled in his usual overdramatic manner. Comet knew that Foxbat only needed to be hit one more time. "To you? Not a chance." Comet retorted as he fired a steady stream of his energy into Foxbat's chest. Foxbat fell to the floor, now unconscious. Turning back around, Celestial Comet took off from the ground as blue fire-like energy surrounded him. This always happened whenever Comet flew or hovered. "Now to get to that church and find out what the hell happened there."

Outside of St. Francis Xavier’s Church's police blockade stood Officer Adrian Larn, A.K.A. Overwatch, speaking in a rather casual manner with one of Officers on the scene, who seems to be taking notes. His mask and goggles removed, Adrian's armor gleams white in the sun of the rather chilly day on the Westside of Millenium City.

Adrian, a rather steely look on his face, speaks quickly to the Officer. "Get Tolovich over here, ASAP. This is the kind of thing that we've got him for."

The Officer, his youthful features and frayed hair betraying a certain freshness that would make any trained individual cringe, nods quickly. "Yes sir. I'm pretty sure he's still handling the Red Banner arsons that happened this morning, so he's in the area." Adrian nods.

"Well then? Get him." He then turns away from the officer and the little huddle of police cars, instead to a rather nicely dressed man with shades. "You've got your investigators in there already, yeah?" The man nods, not saying a word. With that, Adrian turns around and addresses a small crowd of reporters already gathered.

Facing a small host of microphones and flashing cameras, Adrian clears his throat. The steely expression softening somewhat to take on a professional edge.

"Officer Larn, Officer Larn!" One of the reports animatedly called. "What exactly has happened here?"

"I'm afraid to report that Father David McClellan has been found dead here in St. Francis Xavier's. This heinous crime is not something that will go unanswered, know that."

Another reporter called out his name, shoving his mic into the Officer's face. "Could this have been related to the controversial events surrounding Father McClellan's transfer to St Francis Xavier's?"

Adrian shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't comment on that. If you have anymore questions on the nature of the crime, there'll be an address at the West Side Precinct later today." Turning away from the quickly shrinking though no less crowd, his even short address surprised even him in how well it was received. Shrugging it off, Adrian returns to discussing the crime with the man in shades.

The Peacemaker landed nearby the crowd which had gathered around the church. Of course, it was a media circus, with reporters in front of cameras, sending live video feeds to their respective stations. The MCPD had of course blockaded entry to the church, with their officers going back and forth, trying to make sense of what the scene inside the church meant.... whatever that scene was. THe Peacemaker was relatively known within the police, as were most collaborative heroes, but he looked for any familiar face with which to receive some sort of briefing from, and hopefully, access to the scene.

Steinman caught a white gleam in the corner of his eye; he looked over to see a man in shades, talking to an officer in distinctive white armor; Overwatch. He began to walk over.

((OOC > Thx to DD for the extra details. Since there’s already a lot of peeps in on this one, I’ll use what you sent me in a different way. Hope it works for you! I just don’t want to move back since everyone is showing up now.))

Deep in thought but alert enough to still perceive other pedestrians, petty crooks and traffic with his gift, Marcus made his way to the nearest church. As he remembered it, St-Francis Xavier’s was an old building but strong and proudly standing. He had used its roof more then once to travel through West Side. But this morning, he was just another regular Jo. Jeans, t-shirt, leather coat, running shoes and custom made sun glasses. With his chin-length untied white-silver hair he wasn’t sure what he looked liked exactly but to be honest, he didn’t care.

As he was walking, he held a small MP5 recorder to his mouth; putting into words all the details of the last dream he was still remembering. He would put it all to paper later.

“…There was definitely a brothel or ‘establishment’ on the right side and I think the door was dark red wood. Not the cheap stuff, the kind…” and on he went, trying to piece the puzzle of his own memories until, nearing the last corner before the church, he finally heard the wailing sirens and a crowd.

Turning the corner, he was now able to see the media circus surrounding his destination.

“…What now?” he whispered softly before shutting down the recorder. Taking a few more steps he could feel and perceive the perimeter clearly. Beat cops were doing their best to make sure the yellow tape was respected. News vans littered the street and curious Johns & Janes were stretching their necks pass the stairs to the outgoing traffic from the building. Two somber men were pushing a gurney with a human size black bag on it. A body, no, a “Victim” Marcus corrected himself. Another soul sent to travel the alleys of the Overworld or Underworld. Whichever, it wasn’t his business. Resuming his walk towards the next closest church, he offered the circus one last glance and stopped dead. Marcus saw something he hadn’t seen and even less expected in a long time. For barely half a second, thousands of giant wings had appeared behind the church, painting a familiar picture in his mind. Unable to hold back a puzzled look, he immediately started back for St-Francis Xavier’s church. Well aware that this vision had been meant for him alone.

“Why here? Why now? There’s only one body, I can feel it. Are you trying to tell me something?” Again he was whispering to himself.

Walking at a fast and steady pace, he edged away from the news crews and cameras. Mostly the cameras, he made his way to where the morgue van was. He had to stop a few meters short however, the dreaded yellow tape was in his way. Luckily for him, with the body, also came a few detectives out of the church and while they made their way to the left, reporters and onlookers started focusing on them. Asking questions and protesting about ‘clean streets’. The curious nature of humans was rarely a blessing but this time, it did the job. With everyone harassing the ‘Dicks’ and the few supers on site, especially a white armored one that seemed to garner a lot of attention, Marcus ducked under the tape and assumed a ‘I’m supposed to be here’ walk. He went directly for the two men pushing the corpse.

He reached them at the same time they reached the van. Helping with the doors, Marcus changed his manners and chose a cocky and very confident personality to suit the situation but before he could say anything the younger of the pair spoke up “Hum…Look man, you’re not suppose to be here. See that yellow tape over th…” He was cut off by the older man “C’mon slacker, get the body in the van first before those damn cameras swing back this way. I hate when my Marge sees me on the news” he bereft the intern. “And you!” Pointing at Marcus with his nose “what do you want!?” Marcus squared himself slightly, he liked old people, they were always honest and straight with you. With his usual ‘misbehaved’ smile he replied. “I’m here to see the body, I’m CSI but you fellas moved him before I got here”. The intern was now pushing the body in the van by himself while the old man faced Marcus. “Really? Cuz I’m pretty sure the CSI team in the church didn’t mention you when they told us to take the body”. For a brief second, Marcus was about to retract his last statement about old people but then something unexpected happened. “Don’t worry tho, I won’t tell them we help ya…Kid” the old man said. And there was something about how he said the word ‘Kid’. He wasn’t referring to a younger person but he knew. He knew Marcus secret identity, the one so few actually knew. Dropping the act, Marcus just said “Thank you!”. The old man made a face and pointed the intern plus Marcus in the van after the body.

Once they were in, he followed and closed the door behind them. Reaching for the vans ceiling, a small light came on. He then looked at Kid again “Look, you aren’t a usual cape but I saw you risk your life in a burning building once and you saved my dearest Angela, my daughter. This is me repaying the favor. One time deal.” Now looking at the intern “And you! Just get in the driver seat and get ready to go when I tell ya.” Turning back to Marcus “So now what Mr.Neighborhood Watch? You sure you wanna look at his guy? He’s in bad shape. You know, my Marge knew him. She once said he was very nice to her. Aaah! I hope she skips the news this morning”. As the old man kept chattering, Marcus unzipped the black bag completely. Indeed, young priest McClellan was in bad shape. Pierced, bruised, bones protruding and more. Whoever did this was either sick or really wanted to send a strong message. But to whom? Reaching for the MP5 recorder in his pocket, he passed it to the old man and said “Keep this close to my mouth and don’t say a word until I’m finish” the old man complied and started to ask a question but thought better of it and settled closer to Kid. Bending close, face to face with McClellan, Marcus added one more thing “And whatever happens, do not under any circumstances look at my eyes”. Removing his dark glasses, he opened the priest eyes forcibly and after a low steady sigh, opened his as well.

The initial shock of accessing a Faith Thread was never pleasant but doing it in reverse was worse. Like reading a book after it had been burned or washing your eyes with glass sand. But in the end, the result was the same, the unavoidable truth.

Marcus had convulsed once, his entire body muscles had spasms at the same time, then his breathing had accelerated and words started pouring out of him at an alarming speed.

The old man had cried out in surprise “MARY-MOTHER-JESUS!!!!???” but his hand was steady and the recorder was getting everything. Luckily for him, he was not getting the video version like Marcus.

“Mary is praying-statue-one candle-crucified-crucified behind the crucifix-damaged confessional-they talked-chalice-blood-blood in the chalice-suffering-flesh-flesh-flesh of the body-off the body-bruises-PAIN-folders-folders-6-pictures-pictures on folders-nails-piercieng-pain-6-skin carved-carved flesh-body-skin-pain-cuts-cuts-she cuts-dying-I am dying… … …”

Every word had been accompanied by flashes, images, visions of the skin, blood, walls, candles, the spikes, McClellan crying, screaming and more. Using the side wall of the van, Marcus was panting heavily. But nothing about the murderer, maybe, he was not sure. He would have to listen to the recording a few times. Eyes closed once more, he also placed the glasses over them. He then took the MP5 recorder from the old man and offered him a smile “Thank you friends” was all Marcus said before exiting the van via sliding door. Leaving the intern and Marge’s husband with question marks on both their faces, he made is way closer to the church.

As close as he could anyway. MCPDs were covering the door and he doubted they, like the old man, were fans of Kid Death, the unregistered West Side vigilante. But two things were certain at this time, he needed to go in there and he needed those files with the pictures his vision had showed him. This was the key in moving forward his investigation.

Perceiving around, Marcus searched for a way in, any kind of way in. The white armored man seemed in charge. Maybe it was time to make friends in this city.


((OOC: I got the ‘Go’ from DD to move the body, hope its cool with you guys. The CSI team has swept the church already. If you wish to know more about Marcus - Kid Death, please check out my PRIMUS page. Access > below in signature or just PM me)).

Amid the confusion, Weary slipped into the church. He had stolen the case file on the priest earlier that night, but it hadn't told him anything much that he hadn't already guessed for himself. What worried him more was the superheroes already gathering outside the church. Weary's biggest problem was with Overwatch, his superior, who was renowned as a hardass and who was not fond of Alexander O'Keefe, let alone Weary. But the other superheroes posed an annoyance as well. By definition they drew attention wherever they went, and Weary preferred to stay out of the spotlight. If he was caught investigating a case that had attracted so many prominent heroes, he'd be forced into it. The thought made his palms itch.

As far as Weary could see, he was alone in the church. Nevertheless, he drew his handgun from its holster. The forensics team had already been through and removed the body - all that was left was the crime scene. It was gruesome enough even without a corpse, though. Weary willed himself not to vomit into his mask. Turning away from the main scene of the carnage, he concentrated on examining the church itself. It was new, as much of Millenium City was, but still grandiose. It had an aura of an ancient cathedral. Weary had never gone in for religion himself, but he treaded lightly all the same. St. Francis Xavier's Church almost demanded respect.

Weary made his way to the stand of candles, to the right of the altar and the - Weary settled for crime scene. Even so, words like blood and flesh seared a red path across the forefront of Weary's mind, and he found himself gagging. Getting his stomach under control, Weary turned his attention to the candles. Only one was lit.

Odd, he thought. He took a cheap Polaroid camera from his pocket and took a photo of the single lit candle, against the background of the unlit candles. The image was somehow nearly as disturbing as the main scene of the church.

Far too many people for my tastes... Darius hid in an alleyway several hundred feet away from the church, noticing the large crowd of police officers and rubberneckers which had formed. Although he was known as a core member of Millennium City's Meta-S.W.A.T. Team, he disliked being the spot on center of attention by the media. When the Pack was still alive, hiding from the cameras and attention was a necessity, as most people were not warm to their presence.

But now, people knew him. He wasn't always a target anymore. At least, not in the violent physical sense. But, the mentality of shying away from the media still clung to him.

Darius veered over to see who was in the crowd, getting the glint of white armor—Good, Adrian's here...that might actually make this work... He noticed the crowds moving over to allow for a black bag to be moved through. They're moving the body already...does that mean the CSI teams completed their investigation? Perhaps I can find something they didn't...

As much as he looked around from his small amount of cover, he was not able to find any sort of opening in the crowd to enter the church. Not that going through the front door was the best option for entering discreetly; it was hard to miss a very large, muscular, blue wolf-humanoid in a white long-coat of all things. He slunk back into the dark alley way and looked up, noticing the rooftops above him. ...that'll do.

With a slight slouch, he carefully positioned his body to make an accurate leap into the air. When he had felt himself in just the right position, he jumped to the rooftop of the building in front of him. The wind blew through the fur on his face as he scaled the building with relative ease, landing with a dull thud on the rooftop. Immediately, he dropped to the floor, hiding behind the boarder of the rooftop. From this new vantage point, he was able to catch a sight at the church entrance below with the crowds of people and reporters along the edge of the yellow tapes.

“Darius, it’s Keio. Report in.”

He slunk back behind the wall, flicking his ear. What is he doing up this late...? He shook his head with a sigh, folding his ear down to activate the input. “I'm here; I'm guessing you know why. How...?”

A distinctly feminine, synthesized voice replied: “Your communications signal for the Meta-S.W.A.T. Team is traceable by my systems, Sergeant Phen. The fact that you were so close to a recently reported crime scene made the conclusion easy to make.”

Darius gave a light chuckle. “I suppose that's one way of watching out for us...” He veered over again, watching the crowd below, still folding back his ear. “Seems much of the MCPD is already on site. Adrian is keeping most of the reporters and non-officials out. Kind of hard to mess with that kind of resistance...”

“'Seems', Sergeant Phen? Are you implying that you've not made yourself known on site?”

That AI's good... He slunk back behind the wall. “I don't want to attract too much attention; what would that say if a Meta-S.W.A.T. sergeant was actually on site for a simple investigation? I'd rather not have people worrying and assuming.” While crouched behind the walls, he made his way to the wall adjacent to the church, looking around for a way inside. “Have the CSI teams completed their preliminary investigations? I saw a few carrying out a body already.”

“Status on the investigation has stated that this is true. What are your intents?”

The blue furred humanoid noticed the bell tower out in the open, seeing a stairwell leading down into the church. “The current plan is to enter the church as discretely as I can and try to see if I can find something that the CSI teams missed. If the murderer is still hiding in the church, I'd rather not have him or her running out into the streets after the crowds and police have cleared. I promise: I will cause as little trouble as I can.”

He let his ear go as he veered over to the crowds and looked below, crouching for a swift but light jump. He was waiting for just the right moment. Just...the right...

He took the jump, surging forward to the tower in front of him. In not even a second, he found himself, trying to stop moving forward into the large bell. There was nothing to grab onto as he continued moving forward. If he had not stopped now, he would hit the bell, and there would go any chance of him being undiscovered. In vain, he held out his hands, bracing for impact.

A flash of familiar light blast forth from his hands, creating a barrier which managed to slow him down before he would have impacted the bell. Eventually he came to a stop mid-air, and the barrier faded, landing him down gently with a dull thud on the wood.

That...was too close... It seemed even if he was afraid of using his Light, it still continued to guard him, as though it were a river which continued to flow. He checked to make sure he was alright. His pulse was normal and he didn't feel faint. Perhaps he was alright with using it... Still, he didn't want to take chances. If he could avoid pushing it, he would. With a satisfied nod he went down the stairwell into the church.



The church itself was a grand as most could get, with brilliant glass windows, art crafted along the doorways, and an altar adorned with several different decorations. Only now, even from the corner he came out of, it looked like an altar of the damned. The sanguine colors which pooled from several places decorated the seemingly holy area. He saw the communion plate: a plate of literal flesh with a chalice of actual blood, perhaps? Had he never had been exposed to the horrors of watching people torn apart by werewolves and zombies during the Blood Moon, he would have vomited then and there. Even still, it was a difficult sight and smell to swallow.

His eyes wandered around the room to a statue with a lone candle flickering. He wasn't sure what it stood for, but it looked like it was supposed to be fully lit. He saw a man take a picture of the lone candle--

Wait a minute, the CSI team already left... He looked closely at the man, noticing the pistol in his hand. That's...not a good sign. He felt a familiar now invisible warmth surround him. Again, his powers came on their own accord, as they typically did in situations like this. It seemed the man wasn't here to alter the crime scene. He was as curious as Darius was. Why else would anyone want to take pictures of this now godforsaken place? Moreover, he was here alone, and most likely without notice. ...perhaps the two shared a common goal.

Darius stepped out of the corner towards the man, careful not to disturb anything else in the crime scene. He lowered his voice, but its resonance made his words clear: “You might want to put that gun away: Shooting it would more than likely alert the others outside.” He stopped, crossing his arms and looked at him with a calm gaze. “What are you looking for exactly?”

((Exactly how early is early mass? There seems to be confusion about wether this is night or day.))

"... no, no, get away. I'm not like you, not you, not you." The growling roar and images of Father McClellan's crucifixion caused Kiddo to stir from his sleep twisting in his sheets until he fell to the floor from his twin-sized bed. "Ughh." He rubbed his head and kicked off his sheets that were tangled around his foot before he separated them along with a sock on his right foot.

He drowsily went to the bathroom and relieved himself before going to the pill cabinet to take some medication that would calm his headaches. "Kiddo! Are you up?" The yell of a older woman's voice echoed up into the hall as he wiped his face with washcloth and then hopped out of his room and down the stairs. He grabbed onto his pajama buttons as they started to fall and plopped himself into the chair at the breakfast table.

A glass of orange juice and a bowl of cereal was placed in front of him and he ate with half-open eyes. He heard his father talking on the phone before he sat down, his eyes looking away. "That was David -- Father McClellan was crucified at the church." The sound of a glass pitcher shattering against the floor could be heard before Kiddo turned around slowly then back to his breakfast. "I got it, Lisa." His mother held back a tear and a soured-face and turned to the kitchen sink to work at some dishes.

"How, how, how did this happen?" She slammed her wrists on the sink then turned to her husband.

Kiddo ate slowly crunching at every chocolate filled morsel allowing the noise to fill his head as the medicine set in but he intently listened to his father explain as he stopped piling the pieces of shattered glass. "It only happened recently ((time???))"

Kiddo got up and left the room, his disinterest in his adoptive-parents was worsening but he couldn't re-connect that feeling he had that was now lost with them. His independence was something of a new chapter in his life, his powers ever increasing but at the same time his willfulness to help declining. Whatever this all was to be was not something that Kiddo would be interested in knowing. It was hard enough dealing with the increasing headaches and Lisa, the crying adoptive mother, inquiring on how the medicine was doing. Well, the options were simple these days, skip school and put on the costume. No need to shower with water, he could shower with fire.

He climbed the stairs with eager passion and slammed the door shut throwing off his pajama bottoms and tensed his wrists and hands. A silent whine and hiss erupted all around him. The screams, not the sound of hot air or burning matter, but the screams and hissing of people were comforting and they had to be if his pyrokinesis were ever to reach a useful potential. "Concentrate, early in the morning, I know. Wait, Shoot!" He still had on his t-shirt and it was ablaze. The whining sound stopped and he immediately took off the shirt and stomped on it to stop the fire.

The fire detector went off and Kiddo groaned. He could hear Lisa moving up the stairs, "Kiddo! Kiddo, what's going on? Did you light something on fire again!" Kiddo knew that she would focus her grief into commenting and concern and so it would be best just to pretend to go to school instead of flying off without a goodbye. He put on his uniform and over that he put on jeans and a jacket along with ear phones before he stormed out of the room and kissed Lisa on the cheek before running out the door, "Sorry, sorry, late for school got to go, love you." She was flustered as he ran out but only turned around wanting to say something like "but school is in an hour" but she went into the room to see the burnt t-shirt.

He only walked a block before turning into an alley and dropping his things off and revealing his uniform. He chided a mock encounter, "Hey, it's you, Inkiddo!" He put on goggles and smiled responding to himself, "Yeah, that's me, the one and only."

He would drop by the church and meet up with some META SWAT members, having some familiarity with them and check up on the activity of this murder.

Weary turned, for once glad for the hated black mask. If this stranger had given his description to the MCPD, it would have been the end of his career.

Not that I do that much there anyway, he thought bitterly.

He took in the new figure warily. He didn't put his gun away, but didn't point it at the newcomer either - the blue wolf man looked like he wouldn't take a threat lightly.

And now it seemed he had encountered exactly what he'd hoped to avoid - superheroes.

Nothing for it but to make the most of it.

"Same thing as I expect you're looking for. Answers." Weary motioned to the door of the church with his weapon. "How many are outside now? Capes, I mean."