Misery Is A Communicable Disease || Crowley, Sam, Stiles
The officers at the scene, which is located near the 23rd St. IRT station, absolutely love Sam’s ID and the cop working the front lets him in with no trouble and only one Duran Duran joke. The other officers in their NYPD uniforms are gathered around the bodies, sipping coffee while they discuss possible connections between this particular murder and others like it which have occurred around the city. When Sam approaches them they turn to greet him, looking over him and immediately deciding how much information to give him, which is a great deal as he’s been let in and he’s wearing a suit rather than a police uniform, which suggests management or a federal bureau. The circle of officers breaks open slightly to let Sam enter their circle of conversation.
The blonde female cop stands with her hands on her hips, her feet firmly planted on the ground as she looks over the scene. She has a strong Brooklyn accent when she speaks and her voice drawls a bit. Her name tag reads Moore.
“Yyyeah. Y’know, I don’t think he did. More likely he was runnin’ around from this one to the one over in Brooklyn. Doesn’t seem likely he’d use the Canarsie line, I don’t think that one runs late at night? And forensics says they were killed around 2.”
“But then how did they get from there to here in ten minutes? Even the Canarsie line takes twenty to cross the river, and cars can’t cross in less than forty.” The dark haired female is speaking now, in clipped tones, with sharp dark eyes that take in all of the details of the scene and a name tag which says Freeman.
The other officer, a dark haired male whose name is apparently Ross, speaks up now. “And we have a report coming in of another incident, exactly the same apparently so far, up in Queens.”
The blonde woman scratches her head. “So we’ll need someone from Queens to come down too, perfect. Like this job isn’t getting big enough. Where in Queens?”
The man speaks again. “Fucking, Elmhurst. How’d they get from Junius-Livonia, to here, and then back to Elmhurst, in that amount of time?” They all shake their heads. Then the dark haired woman speaks. “Maybe they flew.” They laugh. “More likely there’s more’n one,” she then says, looking at the bodies again. “Set up in the different areas, all planned out to murder everyone in a block radius at around the same time.”
As Sam and Stiles get closer, it is apparent that into the foreheads of several of the victims are carved symbols; there are two symbols visible, and only one is carved into any forehead. Symbol A is far more common, and consists of several lines in a grouping surrounded by a circle. Symbol B is a different set of squiggly marks surrounded by a circle.
It goes without saying that Sam may now investigate the bodies more closely for other markings or effects which might be on them, free of interference from the local authorities, all of whom are now energetically debating theories about the killer. He may also ask questions of them or really do whatever, he’s a cool dude who knows how to do this stuff.
The officer stopping Stiles rolls his eyes at his protests. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I bet his place is just up the building. Look, kid, I’ll let you gawk for another couple minutes and then you gotta scram, alright?” He puts a hand on Stiles’ back to usher him up toward the front of the scene so he can guard both Stiles and the front entry. Officer Jones, as his tag reads, gives Stiles a slightly softened expression at the sight of what he interprets as youthful curiosity and energy.
From this new position at the front, what the officers are saying to Sam and what he says back to them will be audible to Stiles.
narrative note: if i ever don’t explain something thoroughly enough or neglect a detail that will inform your character’s decision, feel free to ask me about it on skype or tumblr or wherever
Continuation of this thread can be found under the cut in Chatzy form.
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