played by
Aji
POSTS
31
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Law Enforcement
call me Mace
He, Him, His
34 YEARS OLD
May
20
Taurus
Stockton, CA
Heterosexual
Detective
TAG WITH @mace
Mason O. Hollis
Qui Custodiet Pso Custodes.
Insight Through Inquiry. Do you ever get that feeling of deja vu? | The break of day began and throngs of men and women alike scurried to and fro from high-rise to high-rise, as red lights and wailing sirens pierced the routine hustle and bustle of the important and the affluent. Rows of upon rows of ornately designed streetlamps dimmed as rays of light shone from above, and the sun continued upon its slow and ponderous pace.
And with the onset of the dawn, so too came the onset of the first responders.
One patrol car, and then another, sped across the junction, followed by a van in the black and white colors of the Seattle Police Department and a single unmarked sedan. Just like a 130, a 140 was a matter that was not to be taken lightly; especially in light of the area in which it took place. Bedford Park was one thing, the police presence was simply too little to be able to stifle the litany of crimes that occurred within the projects and tenement houses. But Downtown Seattle was entirely different. It was here that the Columbia Center lorded over the city skyline, where numerous Fortune 500s had made their haunt, where affluence and gentrification made it appear a far cry from the other parts of the city proper. A murder here was like a jab taken upon the police's turf, the pin to burst the idyllic––if that could even be possible––bubble that many of its residents lived under. The police response in that regard had been swift. Uncharacteristically so.
A scruffy figure alighted from his vehicle as he had countless times over, and entered the premises across burnished herringbone tile, weaving through a mass of residents and onlookers herded back by uniforms of black and silver. No sooner had he gone under the yellow tape was he stopped by uniformed personnel with all the brusqueness of club bouncers.
"No civilians permitted beyond this point."
"Detective Hollis, Homicide."
He flashed his seal of embossed brass and leather, and with a salute was he on his way. Past the cordon did he walk, and through double-set doors did he enter the lobby, rendezvousing with a stocky old man clad in the duty jacket and peaked cap of a patrol officer.
"Morning, Mason. Starting to think you weren't gonna show."
"Looks like you were wrong, Ramirez." The detective smiled congenially. A telltale smile flashed for the briefest of moments upon the old man's visage, and then did he walk into an elevator, gesturing for his colleague to follow. And thus did he comply.
"What the hell happened here?"
"We had a call around eight from the landlord. The tenant was late on his dues and someone complained of a stench, so she thought she'd drop by, see what's going on."
First floor. Third floor. Fifth floor. Seventh.
"And that's when she found the body, eh?"
Ramirez grimaced slightly, a slight nod in acknowledgement to Hollis's inference.
"Officer Buenaventura was among the first responders. She'll brief you on the rest."
Ninth floor. Eleventh floor. Fourteenth floor. Penthouse.
"Jesus, that smell."
The heavy steel doors of the elevator opened, and immediately were the two greeted with the acrid stench of decay and death. Yellow numbered tabs lay upon various articles within the room ahead, while the hoods and latex gloves of crime scene investigators could be seen documenting further in. And in the midst of it all stood a single woman, pint-sized, dressed head to toe in urban fatigues. Officer Leticia "Paz" Buenaventura.
"So," breathed he simply.
"What's the scoop?"
| © seadra of gs |
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played by
Sglaz
POSTS
31
awards
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Law Enforcement
call me Letty
She/Her
34 YEARS OLD
April
24
Taurus
Esperanza, Argentina
Heterosexual
SWAT Officer
TAG WITH @letty
LETICIA P. BUENAVENTURA
If voting made any difference they wouldn't let us do it.
[attr="class","lawenforcement"] [nospaces] [attr="class","rcposting1top"] [attr="class","rcposting1img"] [attr="class","rcposting1img2"]  [attr="class","rcposting1mid"]
Leticia Buenaventura had dealt with dead bodies before. With nine years in the marines and another four in law enforcement, it was an unavoidable reality. And yet, every single experience she had with cadavers was a stark reminder that there was absolutely nothing like it. She was convinced by this point that the human brain had some sort of built-in response to seeing a corpse that could not be changed, no matter how many times one interacted with them.[break][break]
The first and most profound sensation was always the smell - an overwhelming pungency that permeated the air, stifling the senses, sticking to the inside of one's nostrils and masking any other scents for hours after smelling it. The Latina could feel her stomach performing cartwheels in protest every second she spent here, as she grew ever more glad to have skipped breakfast on this particular morning.[break][break]
The diminutive officer had strolled into the penthouse suite about half an hour ago expecting a domestic abuse case - some ritzy fellow pissed off his lover, she did some things she would come to regret later on, and they could call it a day - the sort of thing that didn't require too much effort, just a quick report and she could be on her way to HQ with a cigarette and a coffee.[break][break]
Obviously, that didn't end up being the case.[break][break]
The chic black and white walls of what was formerly an opulent metropolitan high-rise apartment had been thoroughly stained in varying degrees of scarlet. Blood and viscera near the center of the room produced an abominable stench that assaulted her nostrils, while CSIs in various states of coffee-aided cognizance buzzed around like a swarm of flies in their quest to acquire samples and information. She crouched down upon one of the cleaner sections of flooring as one of the CSIs tossed her his clipboard, catching it and taking a moment to scan its contents.[break][break]
"Charles Rutherford, huh?" Leticia murmured to herself. "Now what sort of dirty business were you involved in..."[break][break]
Presumptuous, perhaps, but if her time in the Big Apple was any indication, stately folk like Rutherford were rarely murdered without reason.[break][break]
There were a few more pages attached to the dossier - records pulled from police databases and Heaven knows where else - but before she could read much further, a familiar voice called out to her.[break][break]
"So."[break][break]
A male voice, sounding clearly in need of some caffeine, with a familiar California drawl to it. Leticia felt her shoulders relax ever so slightly - a conditioned reaction after years of working with this particular individual.[break][break]
"What's the scoop?"[break][break]
"Mace." The younger officer acknowledged his presence simply, her voice stretched audibly thin by fatigue as she made her way towards him. She stopped in front of the man, and there was a pause as she regarded him with bored, half-lidded eyes.[break][break]
"You look like shit." She stated plainly before handing him the case file.[break][break]
"Meet Charlie Rutherford. Or whatever's left of him, in any case." Leticia nodded her head towards the grotesque effigy of flesh, bone, blood, and viscera at the center of the room with practiced nonchalance.[break][break]
"Guy was already organ soup by the time I got here half an hour ago. It's all in the case file, so spare me the interrogation."
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played by
Aji
POSTS
31
awards
|
Law Enforcement
call me Mace
He, Him, His
34 YEARS OLD
May
20
Taurus
Stockton, CA
Heterosexual
Detective
TAG WITH @mace
Mason O. Hollis
Qui Custodiet Pso Custodes.
Hmmm. Do you ever get that feeling of deja vu? |
"Since when have I not?"
Mason loosened his necktie and shrugged simply, an impish smirk on his visage. Truthfully, he could have used a few cups of coffee and maybe a fried fish ball or two. But even with a razor to the five o'clock shadow that only served to accentuate his angular face on a regular basis, there was a certain jenesaisquoi to his careworn appearance that the man simply found more comfortable. He'd never been one for appearances anyway, and appearances had never been one for him either; there was a time when that messy mop of hair was a neatly trimmed Ivy-League cut, and it had been the pint-sized blonde that had ribbed him numerous times over on how utterly ridiculous he looked in it, or how he looked marginally less stupid with a disheveled appearance than in a no-frills uniform. Guess there was no pleasing some gringas.
"Don't hate on organ soup, Letty. I know this one guy who can do mean things to offal."
Leather shoes clacked on cold hard linoleum, as the detective began to scrutinize the expanse of the penthouse, starting from the living room and proceeding onward. The numbered tabs had been marked accordingly for him to peruse, and so did he begin, starting with the rather obvious corpse propped up against a laminated wooden wall. Once a rather rotund figure, he was now a carcass redolent of pestilence and decay. Hide beetles crawled in droves from every possible orifice of the man's body, while what little remained identifiable of the late Charles clearly wasn't much to go off of. A foul smelling discharge of noxious fluids and accumulated gases emanated from ruptured skin; what little remained of his hands had become discolored and blue.
"Advanced decay. Poor fella's been sitting out here for quite a while."
The detective crinkled his face in disgust and stifled a retch as he examined the body further, from the gash torn through his stomach and the faded entrails that spilled out. It was a brutal murder, like he had been systematically butchered and left to dry. But of one thing could the man ascertain, and it was of this particular homicide.
"There was a case like this once. Sloppy, but it didn't seem like whomever killed this guy intended on having him die clean."
He stated those words simply, looking the corpse up and down. While there was no confirming whether it was a professional kill or not, no attempts had been made to properly dispose of the corpse, clean up the mess made within the room. For while the chairs and tables seemed neatly arranged and placed, a couple of items lay strewn about blood-soaked carpet. Had the victim put up a struggle? Had the attacker been rushed? If so, it was possibly in their last moments; that could in turn explain why not a lot seemed to be touched. Which indicated that the victim wasn't an afterthought of some burglary, but rather the centerpiece of a homicide.
| © seadra of gs |
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played by
Sglaz
POSTS
31
awards
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Law Enforcement
call me Letty
She/Her
34 YEARS OLD
April
24
Taurus
Esperanza, Argentina
Heterosexual
SWAT Officer
TAG WITH @letty
LETICIA P. BUENAVENTURA
If voting made any difference they wouldn't let us do it.
[attr="class","lawenforcement"] [nospaces] [attr="class","rcposting1top"] [attr="class","rcposting1img"] [attr="class","rcposting1img2"] [attr="class","rcposting1mid"]
"Yeah, well, I'd appreciate if you saved the food talk for when I'm not two steps away from puking." She responded curtly as the tall man returned the clipboard to her and brushed past her to survey the scene.[break][break]
She herself had no intentions of accompanying him to examine the cadaver - that's what they paid Mason for, after all, not her - and instead busied herself with perusing the contents of the clipboard in her hands. A cursory review revealed that Charles Rutherford was a stock broker notorious for...insider trading? She narrowed her eyes at the document as the words crossed her vision. She should've expected something like this. These fiscally-obsessed types always had something or the other going on beneath the surface in her experience; they couldn't just turn a profit and call it a day, they always needed to make more.[break][break]
But still, that begged the question - was this man really murdered in such a brutal fashion over simple insider trading? It wasn't as if she hadn't seen stupider motives in her career, but...surely there was more to it? After all, this wasn't your typical open-and-shut homicide - this was, like, Brooklyn Reaper levels of brutality. Syndicate ties, perhaps?[break][break]
Her train of thought ground to a halt momentarily, and she shook her head after a moment. You're not in NYC anymore. No, she was across the country.[break][break]
"Wonder how Hana's doing." She muttered to herself as she flipped the page, tucking back the long strands of platinum blonde hair that fell across her face when she looked down. A picture of the deceased was printed at the top of this page - a mug shot from a previous incarceration. Not the ugliest fellow she'd ever seen, if a tad portly. A redhead like Hana, with kind brown eyes and a five o' clock shadow not dissimilar from that of the detective that presently observed his corpse.[break][break]
Didn't look the type to get involved with unsavory business, all things considered, and yet, here she stood at the scene of his murder, reading from a clipboard that essentially served as his obituary.[break][break]
C'est la vie. And la mort, she supposed on second thought. Or whatever it was. French had never been a strong suit of her's in any case.[break][break]
"Seems our friend here was involved in a bit of insider trading." The woman spoke aloud to Mason, not looking up from the clipboard.[break][break]
"Still doesn't explain the brutality of it all, though." She added with a sigh of annoyance before turning to look at her ebony-haired colleague.[break][break]
"So. We gonna take it to the precinct? Not like the case file's giving us any pointers, and I need some caffeine in me anyways."[break][break]
There was a pause.[break][break]
"Oh, and you're not going through his shit, either - I'm not interested in getting another earful from Forensics like the last time you pulled that." She added after a moment.
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played by
Aji
POSTS
31
awards
|
Law Enforcement
call me Mace
He, Him, His
34 YEARS OLD
May
20
Taurus
Stockton, CA
Heterosexual
Detective
TAG WITH @mace
Mason O. Hollis
Qui Custodiet Pso Custodes.
Hmmm. Do you ever get that feeling of deja vu? |
"That was one time, Letty. And it's still marginally better than showing up piss drunk for a briefing. More than I can say for you."
The man breathed a sigh and shook his head, gesturing to his partner to hand the clipboard to him. True enough, while Charles Rutherford was barely recognizable from all the bloat and decay and unsavory bodily fluids oozing out from his stomach, the man did bear a passing resemblance in some regards to their friend back east. Perhaps if he didn't know better, he could have been her father; a redhead with warm brown eyes, a five o'clock shadow. The last kind of person one'd expect to have been involved in his line of work.
Stock brokers. Go figure. Money and its handling always seemed to have something going on...why couldn't people just earn their fair share and call it a day?
Mason perused through the dossier on the clipboard, and began to read aloud the names of people the victim had been involved with.
"Kiril Vasiliev. A market analyst for a Wisconsin pharmaceutical company. Frank Colacurcio, Junior."
I wonder how Hana is doing nowadays.
"Miles Davis. Aspiring musician based in Olympia, Washington."
And then he stopped. Had Letty taken a closer look at the dossier, perhaps she might have found one of these names familiar.
"Vincent Santorelli. Founder of Santorelli & Dunn LLP."
All the color had drained from Mason's ruddy complexion, and as he took a step back did he survey the crime scene once more. No, there was no more need for a piping hot mug of coffee; the thoughts, the fears that swirled like a maelstrom in his mind had jolted him wide awake. Connections with the criminal underworld. A messy, visceral scene just like in that suite overlooking Midtown Manhattan.
Surely this was a coincidence, right?
"Letty," said Mason. The tone in his voice was flat; deadpan.
"Do you remember the Adamanti?"
| © seadra of gs |
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played by
Sglaz
POSTS
31
awards
|
Law Enforcement
call me Letty
She/Her
34 YEARS OLD
April
24
Taurus
Esperanza, Argentina
Heterosexual
SWAT Officer
TAG WITH @letty
LETICIA P. BUENAVENTURA
If voting made any difference they wouldn't let us do it.
[attr="class","lawenforcement"] [nospaces] [attr="class","rcposting1top"] [attr="class","rcposting1img"] [attr="class","rcposting1img2"] [attr="class","rcposting1mid"]
"Look, if you were on the Hawthorne case, you'd have needed a drink too." She shot back with a noncommittal half-shrug before handing him the case file. With that, the cop leaned against one of the walls and slowly slid down into a seated position, tilting her head back so that it rested against the wall and staring up at the ceiling while her colleague perused the case file, losing herself in her thoughts to try and distract herself from the incredible stench of decay permeating the suite.[break][break]
Surely this man had a family. There'd be an empty chair at someone's dinner table tonight - an plate set out that would never be used. All because of...because of what? A bit of insider trading for some extra cash? Surely not worth killing a man over...was it?[break][break]
Leticia took a deep breath, sighing through pursed lips as her aquamarine eyes ran across the black-and-white design of the ceiling of a dead man's apartment. She could see flecks of crimson staining the patterns even here, in a cleaner corner of the room.[break][break]
"Letty."[break][break]
She blinked, looking back down at her colleague. It was at this point that she realized that he had gone stiff, the color draining itself from his already-pale face. "Hm?"[break][break]
"Do you remember the Adamanti?"[break][break]
It was quite obviously rhetorical question, but the blonde found herself unsure what to say in response. Of course she remembered the Adamanti - both of them did, vividly so. But why mention them now, of all...[break][break]
Suddenly, she froze. Wait. There was another case like this once. A case involving a certain late Connor Ikaros, a certain auburn-haired Senior Officer Hunter, and an crudely-etched circle with an 'A' in the middle, written in the blood of a stock broker murdered in his high-rise apartment in Washington Heights-[break][break]
"No." She refused to even entertain the notion, rising from her seated position, eyes wide. "No, Mace, we're not in New York anymore, we're across the damn country!" The Latina's voice was plainly agitated, as if she was upset more at the situation they were in than she was at her partner.[break][break]
"I am not living through this again, so you'd better not start spouting some fucking nonsense about the Adamanti, okay?"
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played by
Aji
POSTS
31
awards
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Law Enforcement
call me Mace
He, Him, His
34 YEARS OLD
May
20
Taurus
Stockton, CA
Heterosexual
Detective
TAG WITH @mace
Mason O. Hollis
Qui Custodiet Pso Custodes.
Hmmm. Do you ever get that feeling of deja vu? |
He wanted to believe it was nonsense. He really wished he could.
But the moment he saw that body, read that dossier, he already knew. He just didn't want to acknowledge it.
He remembered clearly, the high-rise in Washington Heights. He remembered that great symbol etched in the expansive glass window overlooking a rooftop garden. He remembered the varied handiwork of that killer, the numerous broken bodies of countless men and women, all connected only by the nature of their work and that singular, telltale sign. The detective could feel the eerie whispershivers creep up his spine, see the dismembered limbs of a painter arranged in a gruesome facsimile of an art piece.
And he could still hear him. A voice as cold and grating as glacial ice. How could he ever forget that hooded figure, the person who proclaimed themself the Harbinger of God in a cruel, cruel world?
How could he forget the Reaper?
But the last time he checked, the man behind the mask himself was incarcerated. Detained, cuffed, and sent on a one-way trip to Sing Sing. There was no way he could have escaped, could he?
"Be as it may, the evidence speaks for itself. Maybe it's a copy-cat crime."
Mason walked over the body and moved further into the living room, surveying numbered tabs, broken glass, chipped pottery. There was no stone that could be left unturned. And for what he was unable to ascertain, perhaps the CSIs could instead. There were a few papers neatly compiled on a rather simplistic, austere desk. But they yielded little information. All he could do was grit his teeth and move on, investigating Rutherford's study. Alphabetically arranged, prim and orderly, exactly the way Hana would have preferred. And there it was, written crudely on a wall in sharpie.
RETRIBUTION. PUNISHMENT. JUSTICE.
And an image, fashioned from cold, hard, blood-speckled cash. A circle, and an A.
"Or maybe not."
Having stated his two cents, he walked, leather shoes clattering on wooden floor, before investigating the entrance to the man's suite. No sign of forced entry...nor did it seem like any of the windows were broken. Could it have been a lockpicking? No, the door's security was a markedly more modern contraption; not only did it require a keycard to enter, but it also required biometrics as verification. Which meant, either someone possessed a means of obtaining Charles Rutherford's prints, and fabricating a keycard that could guarantee access to the penthouse, or Charles himself invited the person in. Curious.
| © seadra of gs |
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played by
Sglaz
POSTS
31
awards
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Law Enforcement
call me Letty
She/Her
34 YEARS OLD
April
24
Taurus
Esperanza, Argentina
Heterosexual
SWAT Officer
TAG WITH @letty
LETICIA P. BUENAVENTURA
If voting made any difference they wouldn't let us do it.
[attr="class","letty"] [nospaces] [attr="class","rcposting1top"] [attr="class","rcposting1img"] [attr="class","rcposting1img2"] [attr="class","rcposting1mid"]
RETRIBUTION. PUNISHMENT. JUSTICE. A dead man, a Circle A, and three words written upon a wall in Black Sharpie. It was a telltale sign of something the Latina prayed wasn't true - and yet, she knew in her heart of hearts that this could not simply have been a coincidence.[break][break]
For a moment, Leticia stood in utter disbelief, her eyes wide as dinner plates, idle fingers intertwining with each other, fluttering with nervous movement.[break][break]
Did I hear that correctly?[break][break]
"Mason, you can't be serious..." She protested weakly, as if unsure of the veracity of her own words. Her male colleague's hypothesis, utterly out of left field as it was, was beyond the point where she could simply wave it off as little more than an absurd shot in the dark.[break][break]
The brutal nature of the murder, the telltale criminal connections of the victim, the writing upon the wall, that all-too-familiar symbol in blood-speckled cash - it was all far too explicit to ignore.[break][break]
The woman took a deep breath, punctuated by a shaky exhalation that belied the fear in her aquamarine eyes. She remembered. She remembered it all too well. The dark-clothed shape of a man filling the doorframe. Icy, predatory blue eyes, locked with her own. A chuckle, low as dry leaves rustling across winter stone. A massive, rough-skinned hand wrapped around her neck. The hilt of a tapping machete against a table, again, again, again; a low and sonorous toll, like the slow peal of drums.[break][break]
"Found you."[break][break]
No. She shook herself from the memory, squeezing her eyes shut and steeling her mind against it. She didn't have the time for this.[break][break]
"Camera footage." She spoke abruptly, opening her eyes and looking upon Mason with a steely gaze and resolute mind.[break][break]
"Gotta be something around here. You know how the ritzy types are about having their every move watched. Go check up on that with one of the technicians. I'll ask around myself. Afterwards, we need to make a call to the precinct."
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played by
Aji
POSTS
31
awards
|
Law Enforcement
call me Mace
He, Him, His
34 YEARS OLD
May
20
Taurus
Stockton, CA
Heterosexual
Detective
TAG WITH @mace
Mason O. Hollis
Qui Custodiet Pso Custodes.
Hmmm. Do you ever get that feeling of deja vu? |
"Way ahead of you."
With quick strides across the room did Mason depart, and so did he return, hapless technician in tow. Sheafs of paper, photographs of recorded data had the technician gathered, and at that did the messy-haired detective thumb through sheet after sheet, before viewing from a procured tablet grainy footage taken from the building's CCTV footage. 600 hours. Clear. 1300 hours, the red-haired figure of Charles Rutherford walks downstairs to the lobby and obtains mail. 1700 hours, Rutherford goes out, and comes back by 2100 hours. And that was when things got incredibly suspicious. 2300 onward to the next morning passes by with no issue. But there was something odd about what had been procured. If it was 800 hours on the next morning, then why was it that the shadows did not change?
Rewind. Repeat. Rewind. Repeat. This did Hollis perform yet again, with tired grey eyes, before he realized what was amiss.
This was a loop.
Over and over again did it play, until 900 hours in the next morning. It seemed that whomever had been invited or managed to get in had taken steps to cover their own tracks. No trace of suspicious individuals, and the security footage had been tampered with. Great. Just great. But there was the potential for a lead there.
Where was Rutherford from 5pm to 9pm? What was he doing, and could that, in the absence of other information, lead to anything else about this incident?
"Owens, Hu. Canvass the surrounding area and report back to me. Anything about Rutherford's whereabouts, known hobbies, favorite locales."
"Got it."
"A'ight."
"Buenaventura, you go with them. Once we're back at the precinct, we'll have plenty of time to discuss this."
A single bony digit pointed simply at the structure of dollar bills. And all he could do was hope that this was some copy-cat crime and not whom he truly feared he was.
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
played by
Sglaz
POSTS
31
awards
|
Law Enforcement
call me Letty
She/Her
34 YEARS OLD
April
24
Taurus
Esperanza, Argentina
Heterosexual
SWAT Officer
TAG WITH @letty
LETICIA P. BUENAVENTURA
If voting made any difference they wouldn't let us do it.
[attr="class","letty"] [nospaces] [attr="class","rcposting1top"] [attr="class","rcposting1img"] [attr="class","rcposting1img2"] [attr="class","rcposting1mid"]
0300 hours later
X to doubt, X to doubt, X to fucking doubt.[break][break] Leticia had talked to every CSI and technician on the scene, she'd knocked on the doors of what had felt like every room on the first and fourteenth floors, and so on and so forth until the words began to run together and the facts repeated themselves incessantly in her head. No scream. No suspicious individuals reported to have entered the building within the last 48 hours. No video or audio footage, no witnesses, no signs of a struggle, no leads whatso-goddamn-ever.[break][break] Charles Rutherford had appeared for all the world to be nothing more than a semi-honest stockbroker kicking it in his Bedford Park penthouse, whose daughter visited every other weekend and whose life seemed cookie cutter to the absolute maximum.[break][break] It made her sick.[break][break] This was the worst case scenario; nothing to go off of meant any further investigation was absolutely and utterly in the dark. She'd have to poke around all corners of Rutherford's life in order to get anywhere tangible. And as if that wasn't enough, the insignia on the window meant this was time sensitive - if, god forbid, their worst fears were true and the Brooklyn Reaper was prowling the streets of Seattle, Rutherford could only be the first of many.[break][break] This was the tip of the iceberg, and she'd just been given scuba gear along with a checklist of things to find on her way to the bottom.[break][break] She'd left the building after spending three hours casing the immediate area. It wouldn't do her any good to linger longer than that - after a certain point it becomes detrimental to the investigation to waste one's mental energy on a dead lead. She'd already gotten everything she could get out of the place, and there were technicians being paid to find what she couldn't.[break][break] And so, back to the precinct she went with aquamarine eyes underscored by dark half-circles, shooting a text Mason's way informing him she had arrived before making a beeline for the coffee machine. Lord knew she needed a pick-me-up after such a stressful morning. [attr="class","rcposting1bot"] [attr="class","rcposting1bot2"] [attr="class","fa fa-plus-square"] [attr="class","fa fa-rss-square"] [attr="class","fa fa-pencil-square"] [googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.letty .rcposting1top]border-color:#DAA520!important;[/newclass][newclass=.letty .rcposting1img2]border-color:#DAA520!important;[/newclass][newclass=.letty .rcposting1bot]border-color:#DAA520!important;[/newclass][newclass=.letty .rcposting1mid b]color:#DAA520!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.annie .rcposting1top]border-color:#D8BFD8!important;[/newclass][newclass=.annie .rcposting1img2]border-color:#D8BFD8!important;[/newclass][newclass=.annie .rcposting1bot]border-color:#D8BFD8!important;[/newclass][newclass=.annie .rcposting1mid b]color:#D8BFD8!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.civilian .rcposting1top]border-color:#69b360!important;[/newclass][newclass=.civilian .rcposting1img2]border-color:#69b360!important;[/newclass][newclass=.civilian .rcposting1bot]border-color:#69b360!important;[/newclass][newclass=.civilian .rcposting1mid b]color:#69b360!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1top]height:150px;width:450px;overflow:hidden;text-align:center;background-color:#181818;border-bottom:solid 5px #eeeeee;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1top]height:150px;width:450px;overflow:hidden;text-align:center;background-color:#404040;border-bottom:solid 5px #bbbbbb;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1img]width:114px;padding:38px;border-radius:150px;background-color:#1e1e1e;margin:-20px 135px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1img]width:114px;padding:38px;border-radius:150px;background-color:#393939;margin:-20px 135px;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1img2]width:100px;height:100px;padding:5px;background-color:#1e1e1e;border:solid 2px #eeeeee;border-radius:100px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1img2]width:100px;height:100px;padding:5px;background-color:#393939;border:solid 2px #eeeeee;border-radius:100px;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1mid]padding:39px;border-left:solid 1px #181818;border-right:solid 1px #181818;background-color:#1e1e1e;width:370px;font:10px Verdana;text-align:justify;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1mid]padding:39px;border-left:solid 1px #e5e5e5;border-right:solid 1px #e5e5e5;background-color:#f7f7f7;width:370px;font:10px Verdana;text-align:justify;color:#444444;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1mid b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#eeeeee;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1mid b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#bbbbbb;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1bot]padding:20px;width:410px;border-top:solid 5px #eeeeee;background-color:#181818;font:10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;height:10px;text-align:justify;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1bot]padding:20px;width:410px;border-top:solid 5px #bbbbbb;background-color:#404040;font:10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;height:10px;text-align:justify;color:#bbbbbb;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1bot a]font:10px Roboto;[/newclass] [newclass=.rcposting1bot a]font:10px Roboto;[/newclass] [newclass=.rcposting1bot2]float:right;font-size:20px!important;margin:-5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.darkrevcall .rcposting1bot2 div]float:right;padding-left:10px;color:#eeeeee;[/newclass] [newclass=.lightrevcall .rcposting1bot2 div]float:right;padding-left:10px;color:#eeeeee;[/newclass] [newclass=.rcposting1bot3]float:left;margin-top:-5px;margin-left:-5px;line-height:10px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rcposting1bot3 a]line-height:10px;[/newclass]
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|
played by
Aji
POSTS
31
awards
|
Law Enforcement
call me Mace
He, Him, His
34 YEARS OLD
May
20
Taurus
Stockton, CA
Heterosexual
Detective
TAG WITH @mace
Mason O. Hollis
Qui Custodiet Pso Custodes.
Hmmm. Do you ever get that feeling of deja vu? |
Three hours had passed and little else could be gleaned. What else was new?
The detective wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket, and continued to check in with the crime techs, Owens, Hu, anyone, but to no avail. No suspicious individuals believed to have been reported inside the building during the last 48 hours, no evidence of entry from the balcony (if it were even possible), nor any audio footage. The security guard that was supposed to have been on duty had noticed nothing remotely wrong with the late Charles Rutherford's demeanor when he had checked in at the lobby, walked into the elevator for perhaps the last time in his life. There were simply no leads.
There wasn't enough to properly deduce what had happened, nor deduce the culprit. Entry inside the facility could not be achieved via any grappling mechanisms; the burnished metal rails lacked any scuffs or chips to verify such a claim. No footprints too could be found outside; save for the particular bootprints of the technicians scarcely anything else could be seen. A verdant trough with flowers was awash in life, but its minder lay dead, never to once again maintain those neatly trimmed and arranged bushels or succulents. An empty nest, and nothing to show for it.
Except the god damn symbol.
As he dwelt more on the case, the more he could feel it in the back of his mind. Staring at him. Mocking him. Like it had numerous times before. He could feel the Reaper laughing in his face, breathing down his neck, taunting him with every action he took. He could see the ever wistful smile on his former mentor's face as he spoke of mending his relationship for the very last time, and the expression it made when he had arrived on the scene. A specter eluded his scrutiny, and armed with naught but the barest of details was he to ensnare it, and bear it for the world to witness.
But only the barest.
"Hollis, there's somebody that wants to speak to you."
The ever familiar figure of Ramirez appeared in the doorway, and at that did bony digits usher him over. With the beat cop stood a small, diminutive man; a portly figure dressed in a dark grey dress shirt and rather smart slacks.
"Oswald Patton's the name. Rutherford was a..a regular at my restaurant."
A restaurant? And what could they possibly serve? I need more variety in my diet.
The man's occupation piqued Mason's interest––for more reasons than one––but his voice remained neutral. Rutherford was a regular at Patton's restaurant, and in that exact same vein, perhaps something at the restaurant could bring up information valuable to the investigation. Not all was lost.
"Detective Hollis, a pleasure. Was Rutherford at your restaurant yesterday evening? And if so, was there anything that stood out about Rutherford during his time there?"
Oswald scratched his balding pate and sighed, eyes downcast. After a brief moment of silence, the man looked up again, and Mason could see it plainly in his warm, sea green eyes. A possible lead.
"There was a woman that was an employee on that day. Tall, mysterious. The kind of person you wouldn't expect to work as a part-timer. Her shift was on the same time that Rutherford liked to come in. After that though, she never showed up. No message, no letter, nothing."
The detective hemmed and hawed as Oswald made his remark, and no sooner had he finished had Mason's angular face contorted in thin smile.
"Well...hot damn."
We've got ourselves a suspect.
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