forum The S.A.S.

Started August 09, 2020 by @Dragoncita group

tune

The thread where all the stories will take place

OOC/Discussion thread: https://www.notebook.ai/forum/futuristic/the-s-a-s-recruitment-ooc

The male walked forward, entering into the grand building, HQ of the S.A.S.. His footsteps echoed against the hard floor, gaze staring directly forward. As the figure entered, almost instantly other members skittered out of his way. An expected reaction, one that happened whenever his presence appeared.

'Blake Savary', the name the creature had come to call itself. By most members of the S.A.S., both workers and the ones that actually head out into the fields, he is only thought to be a creature called an 'Omukade', but his exact species is unknown. Whatever it is, it is figured to be nothing good, considering the very air the male gave off was; danger, beware, avoid.

Not that he blamed them…they had all right to fear him…

Hence, why Blake often only went alone to do jobs for the S.A.S.. He felt better working alone, as well as the fact nearly no one wanted to be paired with the male. Indeed, not a single creature, human, cyborg, anything in the organization, didn't feel at ease working with him.

Blake neared the desk, seeing what appeared to be a young woman sitting behind it. She seemed human for the most part, except for the pair of wolf-like ears atop her head. Those ears swiveled forward, hearing his approach. She lifted her head as the slim man came to stand before her.

As for Blake, his own eyes came to land upon her, his left eye an unnatural appearance, black sclera and silver iris, as the other was opposite with a white sclera but keeping the silver iris. Black pupils looked towards the female, cold gaze unmoving. He could sense the tinge of fear, hearing it ever so slightly in her voice as she spoke.

"O-oh, good morning Blake. Give me a moment."

She suddenly reached downwards, pulling open a filing cabinet drawer. Her ears laid flat back against her head, fingers dancing through the paper files. She soon came to pull out three folders, setting them on desk before her in front of the male.

"H-here you are, files for the pair who will be joining you in this squad, as well as the file which will be your first case together."

The male reached his fingers downwards, picking up the folders. He took a moment to flip through the papers, eyes remaining down upon the papers for a few moments, before suddenly glancing towards the woman.

"Thank you, Miss Desir. I assume you have my own files under lock and key yes?"

The woman's ears seemed to fold back even flatter. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat as she answered, "Of c-course! Your information is confidential after all, even I am unable to access it…"

"Good," was the reply she received from the man as he turned, heading towards a conference room that had been set aside for the squad to introduce themselves and meet one another.

---

Blake came to sit down in a chair in the conference room. He had forgot to turn the light on, well, he hadn't forgotten actually, he just preferred dark places compared to well-lit ones. Despite the little light provided through the partially opened shades covering the windows, the male could see just fine.

The first folder; 'Zephyr Gaverin'. A cyborg, oh, this one had an actual age. His silver gaze looked over the papers, fingers threading through as he read the main points about this individual. So, once a pitiful, beaten child, a child who now had evolved into a trained killer.

Second folder; 'Edward Kalor'. Another cyborg? Blake raised an eyebrow, seemed he was getting paired with the robotic bunches. Maybe there was a reason, he didn't know. He returned to focusing on the files, reading over the provided information.

This cyborg also had a bit of a rough start, but perhaps not as hard as the one in the first file. This 'Edward' seemed to want the operation to become a cyborg, or least that was going through Blake's mind. The other didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

It was survival, or death…

Blake finished looking through the files of the members appointed to the squad, setting the folders off to the side. The third remained in front of him, untouched. The male would wait for the others, before looking into the first case that would be presented to them.

A soft noise, almost like a chitter, came from somewhere around his throat. The male lifted a hand, fingers coming to rest upon a segmented collar…but that collar was no collar. Legs upon legs overlapped the other as it curled around his neck. The sheen of chitin armor glinted slightly in the dim light. Scythe-like mandibles rested against those segmented coils, a great centipede-like creature creating said 'collar'.

"Hush my pet, we do not want to frighten them, now do we?"

At his voice, the chitter seemed to quiet down. A few light taps of many legs, but the creature remained completely still against pale skin. Blake's gaze shifted upwards, taking a moment to look around the room for a moment, then slowly allowed his eyelids to close. He would continue to wait patiently, in no hurry.

Everywhere. The freezing particles surround me, each single snowflake teaming up to form a blanket at my feet. Every night. Though it felt cold, I could stand the sky's gentle snowfall.
I don't know what this place is, but every night I would find myself wandering around it's cryptic woods. Though I didn't mind, the scenery remained peaceful.
His voice pierced through the snow, somehow colder than the flakes that fell.
"Edward." Instinctively I turned to the sound, locking eyes with Dr. Rose; the man that operated on me, and my mentor. He has been there for me since I joined S.A.S., and I would never wish to let him down. As usual, he leaned against a metal cane to avoid putting weight on his left leg.
"Yes, Dr. Rose?" I stood up straight when I addressed him. I couldn't imagine not being at attention in the presence of Dr. Rose. He didn't ask me to do so.
"You have a new assignment. You're going to be working with a team this time." Normally I'd work alone, or I'd lead a group, so an equal team is something I'm not familiar with. Regardless, I nod affirmatively.
"May I request for the specifics on the members of my team?" I respectfully held my hands at my side as I hold eye contact. Dr. Rose appeared distraught.
"A kid like you, his name is Zephyr Gaverin. Don't give him trouble; though he doesn't deserve it, he'd still make you regret it. I can't afford to do any repairs on you, Edward. You're my most prized accomplishment."
I nod again, processing all of the information. Dr. Rose hesitates before continuing, leaning heavier on his cane.
"The other team member is Mr. Savary." I blink my eyes at his words. Does he mean Blake Savary? Struggling to maintain eye contact, I open my mouth to speak.
"For confirmation, may I ask if you are talking about Blake Savary?" I call out, debating on stepping closer to him. Dr. Rose nods carefully.
"You will be working with him and Gaverin, you don't have a choice."
Regardless of whether or not I had a choice, I still had conflictions whirring around. Dr. Rose made his opinion on Savary's employment clear; he did not agree with it. Savary is feared by most other S.A.S. employees, and his methods are rather unorthodox. Now, Dr. Rose is ordering that I work side by side with him. The snow picked up.
"Dr. Rose, if I recall correctly, you have refferred to Mr. Savary as a 'loose canon', am I correct?"
Dr. Rose flashed a tinge of disappointment as he glared at me.
"Are you suggesting any sort of doubts against this assignment?" I shake my head immediately, clenching a fist.
"No! No, of course not. I accept the assignment." Dr. Rose nodded approvingly, squinting his eyes.
"Go to HQ to receive the specifics and meet your team. I recommend you make a good first impression, you wouldn't want two loose canons forced to work with you."
My eyes open quickly, the cold, lack of a textured wall failing to accompany me. I sit up and allow my programs to boot up as gradually as possible as I turn to look at the kid on the other bed next to me. He slept too heavily, but that was only one of the many reasons he wasn't nearly as reliable a cyborg as me. I stood up, now fully operational as I exit the room.
HQ was a short walk, especially when I didn't allow any distractions to slow me down. I enter the building with intent, addressing the fluffy eared lady at the desk. She looked up, flashing a friendly grin as I politely returned it.
"Miss Desir, I'm here for my assignment."
She lifted an arm in a single direction, pointing me to the room, a hint of obligated respect in her voice.
"Mr. Savary has the file in the conference room."
I turn to face the conference room, forcing my feet to walk in the direction of the room. I avoided Savary as best I could, but tried my best not to suggest I was ignoring him. Now I had to face and address him, and then work with him.
I open the door, taking a step into the dimly lit room.

The sound of a faint clanking echoed through the halls, bouncing off the walls and ringing through the area. It was a familiar sound, one that everyone who worked in that building knew very well. It was one that some dreaded, others looked forward to.

It was the sound of Zephyr Gaverin returning from his latest mission.

Usually, his metal leg had a soft covering at the bottom, to render his footsteps almost perfectly silent. But after his missions, it would be gone. Every. Single. Time. No one knew if he removed it on purpose, or it just fell off. Whatever the case, everyone in the building knew that he had finished his mission when they heard the clanking. That meant it was time for gossip, to hear the story of what he had gone through, which is what everyone looked forward to.

Said male walked into the cleaning room. His clothes, what remained of them, at least, were torn and charred, and smelled of burn and ash. He was soaked in blood, and had several deep gouges, shaped like claws, on his flesh side and arm. His metal arm sparked, and several wires poked out. He looked a mess. Not that it was a surprise. He always came back looking more or less like this. During his missions, he was brutal, unforgiving, and successful… but certainly not careful.

"You killed it?" A man asked, coming closer to him. This was Jacin, the head mechanic, and the one who was always called to repair Zephyr's metal parts after a mission.

Zephyr nodded silently. He sat on his usual chair, a small stool where he would be fixed up and patched.

"Well done. You got it done much faster than I would have expected." Jacin and a few other people walked over to him, taking off Zephyr's shirt and pouring water over him. Blood and dirt ran in rivelets to the floor. Two women started to patch him up, not bothering to be gentle about his wounds in the slightest.

Jacin got to work on his metal arm and side, carefully fitting the wires back into place, replacing several pieces of metal, all in a careful, practiced manner, chatting all the while.

"There were bets on whether or not you'd succeed. That rogue demon was more powerful than all the other agents sent after it. Most of us thought that you'd probably be toast like the others." He smiled, carefully picking a loose wire from the side with a pair of needle pliers. "I bet for you. No matter how hard it was, I knew you'd come back in one piece. Well, mostly one piece, anyway." He pulled the wire from the arm with a quick jerk and a flash of sparks.

Zephyr remained silent. He didn't move, except for the occasional twitch as his wound was scrubbed too hard. This was treatment he was used to, and so he didn't complain.

After the repairing and cleaning and wound-wrapping had been done, and new clothes had put on, Jacin motioned him over. "Come."

Zephyr followed him through the halls, into the meeting room, where he usually received his orders.

"Zephyr Gaverin." A loud, booming voice echoed throughout the room, although the source of the noise was indistinguishable. "Since joining us, you have completed eighty-nine successful missions, and none failed. You are one of our best, but now, you have something new to do. This time, for your next mission, you are working in a squad with other members."

Zephyr bowed his head in acknowledgement, although his human eye flashed with anger. "As you wish," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "I will do whatever is required of me."

Inside, though, he seethed with anger. He had always worked solo, and he liked it that way. Why did he have to work with people who would just interfere with his work, get in his way? If this wasn't an order, he wouldn't have done it.

Footsteps, all echoing outside the room, but one was growing closer. A soft creak, the door to the conference room, allowing the outside hall lights to flood inside. There was a glint of silver on the other side of the area, Blake's eyes opening as one of the members entered the room.

His eyes scanned the figure before him, narrowing slightly. That silver gaze sizing up the newcomer, as if looking directly into their soul. Though, that wasn't true at all, just call it…'predatory habit'. Take the time to 'read' someone or something, learn by observing, picking up on small actions. Such simple or barely noticeable things, could prove to be worthy information in the future.

Blake shifted himself in his seat, his silver eyes never once leaving the figure who slowly entered the room. The male leaned forward in his chair, coming to rest his elbows on the table, hands folding together. He rested his chin on the folded, entwined fingers, his form seeming to be completely relaxed. No, there was no fear, no wariness, just an unsettling, calm air.

When you were an apex predator, such shows of pure aggression and dominance was not needed…

"Hello," his voice was surprisingly deep, compared to the rather scrawny appearance he held. Blake's human form having a lean build, but it was best to not be fooled by his weak appearance. Though looking light weight, the male still held all the power as when in his true form. A mistake many made when they decided to try a head on confrontation with the lanky male.

"I take it you are Edward? Least if the files given to me are correct with appearance."

He paused, eyes shifting back to the files. He took hold of one of them, shifting through the papers. Blake was certain this one was 'Edward', if he had read them correctly. As he took his time to look through the files again, his voice spoke up for the other.

"I'm sure you would prefer the light, you may turn it on. I just mostly spend my time in darkness, so it is a comforting presence to me so to speak. Though I'm sure creatures like yourself, are more partial to well-lit areas than myself."

"Please, take a seat," Blake lifted his head upwards. His elbows remained on the table, though his hands were putting the files back neatly in place.

A soft huff came from him, "Which means we are waiting for the last member of this squad to join…once he decides to join, if he does, then we shall commence upon the case given to us."

"I recommend you make a good first impression, you wouldn't want two loose canons forced to work with you."
I had barely entered the room before he began sizing me down, his cold gaze somehow making me smaller with each glance. As much as I desperately wanted to retaliate, to bring myself back to even ground, I refrained from doing so. I was safer where I was, despite my inherent need to be the superior one in a group, my advances may be misinterpreted as threats. I'm choosing my battles, and this is one I am going to have to pass on.
His dark voice towered over me just as much as his even darker eyes, maybe even more. Any and all languages I've been taught had escaped my train of thought the moment he asked me a question. An awfully simple question, but the tone and his demeanor truly shook me to my core. How am I supposed to maintain my already shaking composure throughout this entire mission?
He speaks about the lights, and the information of his kind that he spilled out caused me to realize how little I'm aware of how fully capable he is. I know he's powerful, and I know he could probably bury me in less than a day, but I don't know how. I don't know what exactly he is. I always kept my distance, and I never bothered to ask around.
My initial response that brought me beside myself distracted me so much so that I forgot to turn on the lights, and instead sat down in the still poorly lit room at Blake's suggestion.
I take a seat close to the files on the wooden table, but lean the chair back a little bit so as to keep a safe distance between Blake and I. My body language screamed nervous, but I had to speak at some point; otherwise this initial meeting would last forever. Not only that, but I had to get used to Blake's presence at some point.
"It's good to finally officially meet you, Blake. You've got a high reputation in my circle, but I'm sure you already know that."
I keep both feet on the ground as I gesture to the files, clearing my throat before speaking.
"Have you read the case file yet? Or, are you waiting for Zephyr?"

"Good." the voice said with satisfaction. "Bring him to where he needs to be." Zephyr was unsure at first where those words were directed, but when a small, wiry man appeared, motioning for him to follow, he realized that he hadn't been alone in the room.

Typical.

The man, although he was small, walked fast. Zephyr followed close behind, his long strides catching up to the man with ease. They passed through several halls, finally stopping in front of a room with a heavy door.

"In here," the man said, before leaving.

Zephyr opened the door, not bothering to knock, and entered. It seemed to be a conference room, with one long table in the center and several chairs around it. There were already two people there, if you could even call them people.

One was a cyborg, like himself. Average height, with brown hair and blue eyes, the guy seemed to be trying to act as if he wasn't afraid. He sat up stiff in his chair, looking at the other figure with wide eyes, a smile plastered on his face.

Zephyr could see why the other cyborg was afraid. Because the other figure in the room made even his survival instincts scream for him to run. The other figure was male as well. He didn't look extraordinary, just white hair and metallic gray eyes. But the way he looked and held himself and even breathed showed pure predatory power.

This guy was someone to look out for.

Zephyr didn't bother to greet either of them. He sat down on a chair that was far enough from both of them that he didn't have to be avoiding their eyes, and leaned back, crossing his legs and staring flatly at the other two, his human eye flashing with annoyance and irritation. He tried his best not to act as if the being beside him, not the cyborg but the other one, was intimidating him.

Although he was used to people trying to act scary, to assert their dominance and become the 'alpha', this guy was one of the only ones Zephyr had ever met who seemed to do it naturally.

Oh wonderful. Working with these people will be the best. He rolled his eyes in scorn.

Prey, it was nervous, ready to flee at any moment. Despite the predatory instincts screaming, Blake had learned to keep them in check. To create…casualties of these others was something he would refrain from doing, something that took many years for him to get under control.
Once upon a time, even that slight hint of fear would've been all that was needed for the more predatory side to take advantage. There would have been no warnings, just one swift movement, a strike from the shadows that would leave the unfortunate soul lifeless. However, that was long ago.
Now, Blake could keep such urges from controlling him. It all boiled down to basic instincts, something that would never leave him, but the least the male could do is control them in order to spare those around him from that chaotic nature of his.

He set aside the two folders that held the information of the squad members. Though, Blake would probably end up taking a look at the notes again, to make sure he had these individuals information correct. The male may seem cold, aloof even, but he would prefer keeping the knowledge of them, so not to confuse them. He knew some weren't as willing to forgive over simple mistakes, such as mixing up who was who, and so forth.
The male lifted his gaze towards Edward. Good, despite him appearing to be somewhat nervous, he was willing to speak. Blake leaned back in his chair, one leg crossing the other, arms folding against his chest in a loose manner, lounging.

Blake tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. 'High reputation'? Of course, certain actions lead to others recognizing you, in both good and bad ways. However, to the male, it seemed odd. Then again…
He bowed his head slightly towards Edward, a slight chuckle coming from him, "Really now? You will have to forgive me if I seem a bit slow to the 'now' of things. In all honesty, I have been asleep for about 5 years straight, and have only recently woken up now."

True, it seemed Blake would disappear from HQ for several years, before suddenly returning. Course, it was all recorded, so to keep the male in check. Not that he really needed it, more so to keep tabs on him. It wasn't exactly clear why sleep would overtake him at sudden moments in time, what should just be a 20 minute long nap turning to 100 year long slumber, and so forth. Blake's 'naps' had a tendency to vary on length.
Injured, his slumber could last centuries. Just tired, could last from a year, to a few years. Each time he woke though, the male would return to S.A.S. Headquarters. He had his reasons why.

A barely audible chitter sounded from around his throat, the light tap…tap…tap of movement of legs against chitin. Blake's head lifted gaze shifting towards the door. Ah, the final member of the squad finally decided to show themselves.
Once again, cold silver eyes moved, landing upon the new individual to enter. The second cyborg appeared, and he didn't seem too happy at all. Suppose it was to be expected, if Blake had read the files correctly this 'Zephyr' was a lone wolf. Something which Blake could relate with this other. Then again, there was the fact no one ever wanted to be paired with Blake. So, he had gotten used to working alone.
Though now, they were all being forced to come together, whether any of them liked it, or not. Most likely HQ had a reason for their squad formation. Perhaps get loners to come together, to learn to work in a group, than survive on their own. Or, perhaps there was another reason, possible threats considered too dangerous for a lone S.A.S. member to handle on their own, no matter how powerful the individual was. Many possibilities, all left to their own speculations.

"I take it you are 'Zephyr'?"

Blake's voice questioned, head tilting in an almost curious fashion. The agitation rolling off this newcomer was seemingly causing a disturbance. That 'agitation' seeming to trigger the creature around his throat. The 'tapping' continued, barely audible, the hint of movement of whatever was coiled around Blake's throat. However, he didn't seem bothered at all by the coiled segments tightened around his neck.
Instead, he kept that curious look, probably annoying to the new cyborg. To be questioned, while a creature of unknown origin stared at you, showing little to no emotion except a slight curiosity now. All the while, despite showing no aggression whatsoever, held an unnerving air.
"Mm, I see you will be a joy to work with sir," there was a slight hint of sarcasm in the male's voice as he addressed the other who had plopped themselves a few chairs down from them.

Blake looked back to Edwards. Least this one seemed willing to try and work with him. His hand moved from its crossed position once in front of his chest, sweeping over the file set aside from the other pair of folders.
"To answer your earlier question, I have yet to look over the case given to us, as I was awaiting both of your arrivals, though, now that we are finally assembled, shall we have a look at what is given to us?"

Then without waiting for replies, slim fingers reached into the folder, flipping it open. Blake started setting files out, images of victims, crime scenes, and so forth. His interest peaked, gaze looking over the photos before him, then gradually moving to different reports.
"Apparently, a string of murders has cropped up in the past 2 weeks. At first, the normal departments of the government tried to handle it, but things started to get stranger, and more out of hand so to speak."

Blake shifted a bit in his seat, fingers picking up one of the photos, moving it to set before the pair. The photograph showing the victim's left ankle. Other than the bruises and blood, a significant part stuck out, a faint symbol could barely be seen on the skin. The male pulled up another photo on the table, setting it next to the first, showcasing the mark in a much clearer view.
The mark looked to be entwined lines, showing something of almost tribal design, but there was something…off about it.

The silver eyed male shifted his gaze between the pair of cyborgs, leaning back in his chair. He went silent for a few moments, letting them digest the images, then spoke.
"So far, each victim has been the same with attack pattern. Body torn apart leaving little to no trace except a bloody mess. Yet each time, the left ankle has always been left with little to no damage done to it, always with that same mark."
A slight movement from around his throat as the male shifted a bit in his seat, "I have my own speculations of possible creatures capable of doing this, but I shall let the both of you have your turns looking through the files, and giving your own opinions."

Blake then swung his hand over the files of the case, as if beckoning both Edward and Zephyr to take different papers, read, and get their own ideas of what they were dealing with here.

Asleep for 5 years? That sounds more like a coma, but I suppose with how much raw, unchecked power that this creature contains, such a deep sleep just might be what is required for sheer balance. Though many gossip and whisper about what they've seen or thought they've seen Blake do, I knew I should take any alleged words with a grain of salt; I should only trust my own experiences. Additionally, the people in my life were known to lie often- exaggeration certainly isn't too low for those immature comrades. Regardless, I preferred to hold to refrain believing everyone's fear and awe of his violent capabilities; even if the devil walked among us, we as mortals wouldn't have the slightest clue.
Blake was a thing of darkness, and one to behold, but only a fool with that much power would flaunt it carelessly.
My eyes flicker to the slowly opening door as the third andn final team member, Zephyr, manifested his presence. He barely gave us the decency of an acknowledging glance as he fully enters the room. Upon studying his complacent face, he looked just about as thrilled to be here as Blake and I- maybe even more. He took a huffed seat a bit away from us as Blake begins reading the case file. A string of murders, in the past 2 weeks? As he spoke, eyes scanning the words on the file, I couldn't help but lean a bit towards the file myself, trying to catch the words and study them. Unfortunately I couldn't actually see any valuable information from the case file while remaining subtle about how I was leaning forward, so I resorted to asking questions. I was going to get to hold the file on my own at some point; I know it.
"Do we know anything about the victims, despite them being so mutilated?"
Maybe if we could find a connection with the victims, we could figure out who the culprit is. I didn't want to pretend to be a professional in case solving; most of the time my jobs are to locate a crimanl already identified and neutralize them. This may be why I'm on a team for this case. Luckily I was able to get a hold of some of the graphic images. I squint my eyes at the markings on the ankle. The way the icon is depicted, it looks ancient.
"Tribal," I whispered, the almost literal gears turning in my head, "Are ancient spirits capable of physical manifestation? I thought they were mostly incorporeal."

"I see you'll be a joy to work with, sir."

Zephyr stared flatly at the guy… well, creature was more like it. The thing didn't seem to be human, nor did Zephyr think he was. The thing around his neck… he was supposed to work with this? A cyborg and something that wasn't even human? Fantastic.

"I'm glad you think that," he said in a low, cold voice. "I shall do my best to remedy that, then." He hoped that the mission would be simple, just the elimination of a target, and then he could go back to working alone.

Hopefully.

But when had things ever gone the way he wanted?

He looked down at the pictures of the victims. Others would have been shocked and disgusted at the sight of such brutality, but he had done things like that, and much worse. This was nothing.

"They can possess," Zephyr said, in answer to the other cyborg's statement. "Spirits can possess those weak of will do things that they normally couldn't. But this doesn't seem to be done by a spirit. For one thing, not all of the victims were in the same place. Also, why would the spirits do things like that?" He shook his head. "There aren't any spirits that I've encountered that would do a thing like that."

He considered. "Unless this was a revenge ploy. But that doesn't seem right, either. Unless all of these people have something in common…" He sent "Blake" a look. "Do the victims all have a connection, or do the killings seem random?"

The smile Blake offered Zephyr as he replied to his sarcasm was one that would send chills down even the bravest of men. A low chuckle escaped his throat, seemingly waving the comment to the side. Ah yes, leave it to the ones who have been alone for so long, to forget their place. This would indeed do them both some good; Blake being an apex predator, a predator that needed to learn to walk amongst the prey without harming them. The other, a simple prey item that needed to learn that they were still 'mortal'.

Hm, so Edward was thinking 'spirit'. An interesting guess, but not quite what Blake had in mind. He was silent as the pair looked over the images he had laid out before them, listening to their words. The slim male once again set his elbows on the table, fingertips resting against each other.

"As for an answer, and from what was recovered, we know the victims have all been female."

The male suddenly pulled out another paper, setting it on the table. The paper was a list, a list of names, ages, and species.

Blake's silver eyes seemingly narrowed as he continued, "Seems our killer started with simpler prey; humans. Though, they have slowly been working their way up the food-chain, beginning to target weaker supernatural."

He moved one of his hand, running it through his silver hair, then returning it onto the table. Most young predators started that way, start with simple, weak-minded prey, then the older they got (or more confident) their choice of prey would also change. Most likely this killer was getting more confident, instead of older. However, that confidence, would lead to this one's downfall.

Blake would make sure of that. Hell, he had been in a similar situation more than once happen in his much younger years. Though, he was still considered rather young for his kind, being somewhere in the 800's, where others that made it that far, could reach up to several million years or so. However, that was for him to know, and these others to be left guessing.

Either way, the so called 'predator' would sooner or later try to take on prey much larger and dangerous than itself. A moment they would take full advantage of…of course once they learned more and had a better idea of what or who this killer was possibly.

"Another random thing we found, each victim was attending a grand 'ball' or party of some kind. Most of the higher ranking supernaturals have been known to throw old-fashioned parties as such. By high ranking, I mean they have staked claim to a part of the city, and call it their 'territory'. So, we will be dealing with those as well."

Once again, another paper was pulled out, this one with a photo attached. He set it down, "The most recent murder happened in the alley near Ravenshire Manor, esteemed home of Master Lawrence and his Lady; Lady Renee. They are heads of a valravn clan that have taken residence in the northern part of the city."

"The most recent victim was not of the clan, but a visitor," Blake lifted yet another paper, silver eyes scanning it, "Miss Nikali Hedre, age 79, species; witch. Seems she had done some business with Ravenshire Manor in the past."

Blake adjusted himself in his seat, gaze once again lifting to look over at the two of them, "Highly unlikely a spirit, as this is way too violent for even a malevolent spirit. Though, perhaps investigating the scene would provide more clues for us, seeing it first hand…or we can go pay a visit to Master Lawrence and Lady Renee, figure out if they saw anything, and what they have to say about the victim. We will most likely do both, but as for order, doesn't matter to me."

He gave a slight shrug, "So, any particular order you pair want to do? Visit the last crime scene, or talk with the owners of Ravenshire Manor?"

Blake knew which he would prefer doing first, but he would let his comrades pitch in their thoughts, knowing that this was to be a 'group' thing, instead of all focusing on a single individual. A way to let them feel needed, more comfortable. Least that is what the male was thinking, not wanting to impose on being the 'leader' of the squad, and instead letting them all take the lead in a way.

I listened carefully to Blake speak, running through any other possible supernatural creatures that could both achieve such vicious acts and actually want to do so. To specifically target those in high power reminds me of a certain asshole I know, but I also know he's barely even capable at beating me in hand-to-hand combat, and he's too self-righteous to commit such atrocious murders without good enough reason. Regardless, a disdain for the rich isn't an uncommon theme in people; we just have to find the violent ones. Though, I know Captain would consider any opposition as violent enough to neutralize. Captain holds great anathema to the lower class, but mostly because the feelings are mutual.
Blake continues. They do have something in common- the victims are all rich and female, so this isn't some rage-filled killing spree; there is specific intent in it. Maybe something to do with the culprit's mother. Mistreated while growing up? Never loved because the mother was too invested in money and appearance? Rejected by a woman because they weren't rich enough for her? I suppose I should be discussing these possibilities out loud with my team, but I didn't want to interrupt Blake, for he was still speaking. I remained silent and continued listening to his information dump as I created new theories based on each grain of new info.
Once he finishes reading the files, he asks us our opinion on our next move, provoking me to reach my neck out to look to the papers for a moment and think. The crime scene will always be there, but the hosts' memories aren't entirely reliable, so my calculation is that we should hit up the owners before they forget any valuable information.
"Personally, I'd recommend we talk to the owners first while they still have the details of the party and victim fresh in mind. Are they human?" I utter, sitting up to reach for the file on the hosts. Human memory still remains the most unreliable, I've heard cases of people lying to themselves for so long that their brain created an entirely false memory that the person then proceeds to believe as true for the rest of their lives. How much of a human's memory of their life is actually what happened? The issue with not recording your life is never remembering it the right way. With me, I record every second of my life, and it's sent to the harddrive. Dr. Rose monitors my memories to make sure I do as he orders, but I figure it's a small price to pay for living under his care and being created by him in the first place. I owe him my life, so that's what he gets.

The smile that "Blake" sent Zephyr made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, but he tried to act natural. The creature wasn't someone to mess with, that was for sure. Even Zephyr, one of the most talented killers in the SAS, wasn't sure he could beat Blake in a fight. So it was probably best to be careful around him.

And prepare… measures.

"I think that visiting the crime scene first would benefit us the most," he said, tapping his metal fingers on the table. "So we can see what happened there, instead of just looking at the pictures. There may be more clues there that the previous investigators missed. And if we could find some other clues, there may be more things we could ask the owners." He shook his head. "We want to know as much as we can before we began the questioning."

Zephyr stared flatly at Edward. "If we talk to the owners first, it could cause problems. What if we check the scene, and there's something that we thought of to ask after we've already talked to them. This way, it could be quicker."

He considered. "Unless we split up, and some of us examined the crime scene while the others talk to the owners of the manor. But no… that wouldn't be the easiest, either." The person who was talking to the owners might not know all of the questions that the others wanted to ask, while the people at the crime scene might not see everything that the person questioning would.

As the cyborgs went to looking over the details themselves, Blake had leaned back in his seat. Hey, least it was seemingly one of those fancy office chairs. Adjustable seat, letting him lean back. Heh, these handles were kind of fun to mess with…not that he'd ever admit it…

Just a 'puzzle' for him to play with, something new. Sure, there had been such things in the past, but then having been asleep for 5 years, and waking up recently, it was fascinating to know some things changed, while others staid the same.

The backrest was the main thing he allowed to move, allowing him to lean even further back. His legs came to rest in a nearby chair that had no occupants in it. Might as well use it, the cyborgs in their own chairs, and there were plenty of seats to go around really. Besides, it would be rude to prop his feet on the table, wouldn't it be? So better to be in a chair and out of the way.

One of his hands moved towards his throat, fingers lightly brushing against segmented chitin. Movement, long antenna seemingly coming from the creature around his neck, twitching as they sensed movement, vibrations.

Now, it may seem like he wasn't paying attention, but in fact, Blake was listening, observing. Not just him, but the creature around his throat, Though it seemed to remain unmoving for the most part, it picked up on the environment around it, relying information and the such back to its master.

The male's head lifted as Edward stated his preference. Hm, speak to the Manor's owners, see what they would have to say. The small explanation stated Edward made sense, what with fresh memories and whatnot.

A sudden, soft chuckle came from Blake as he was asked if they were 'human'. His fingers continued to pet the creature along his neck, silver eyes locking onto the cyborg's own.

"You mustn't have 'valravns' in your database huh?"

He made a slight jab when stating 'database'. Aren't these robotic bunches suppose to have all sorts of information locked away? Actually, scratch that. Heh, no way was information like Blake's own ever going to end up in a 'free-for-all' database, or whatever the hell it was. He would be sure it remained that way, but if anything were to leak out…Blake would make sure to find it, and stop it.

Blake shifted slightly in his chair, one leg crossing over the other, "Not to worry, valravns aren't a very common beast. They were first heard in Danish Folklore if I remember correctly. Either way, think of wolf/raven hybrids. As such, they are highly intelligent, but sadly often misunderstood, seen as omens of death."

Silver eyes glanced over towards Zephyr. This one wanted to visit the crime scene, something which Blake himself was leaning towards doing first. He listened to the second cyborg's reasons for visiting the scene first, instead of talking with the owners.

As for Blake's own reason to agree with Zephyr…

"Personally, I also agree with Zephyr to head to the scene," Blake's eyes seemed to glow ever so slightly, pupils disappearing for just a moment, then reappearing, "As I stated, Valravns are intelligent, and I doubt most things would get past them, especially if something like this that happened on their territory."

Ah yes, territorial disputes, still happening, even to this day. Perhaps not so much with humans, but creatures, supernatural, territory was still a thing to be considered. Some more aggressive over such things compared to others. Territory meant a life, a home. Food, dens, others of your kind, all found in your territory. Well, when you were in a 'city-scape' such as this, it wasn't uncommon for creatures of the same species to flock together.

"The attack only happened a day ago, so I personally would like to try and see if any scents are still lingering in the place."

He probably had an advantage over these cyborgs when it came to such a thing. Scent had a tendency to linger in an area. Some creatures having the ability to track a week old trail with little to no trouble whatsoever. Less something tampered with the scent, which would make it more difficult. Well, only visiting the scene, would the male be able to confirm it.

Blake moved his feet off of the chair that they had been propped up on, setting down onto the floor. He slowly stood up, rolling his head a bit, stretching his neck, a light pop sounding. The male moved past the seated cyborgs, heading towards the door that led out into the halls. He reached for the handle, opening the door, then pausing, glancing back.

"I'm going to assume one of you knows how to drive?"

Despite a long life, waking up, going to sleep, then waking up again, Blake would admit, he never had anything to do with mankind's vehicles. Such things were unneeded to him, relying on himself to get from place to place, usually underground. Though, now they all had these fancy metallic machines that got individuals from place to place.

So, Blake had never drove anything. Hell, he hardly rode in vehicles. Despite the speed and swift, agile movements of his own, just something about being in one of those weird human-made machines left him feeling ill. He could remedy it by blocking his vision while someone else was driving. Probably the worse of those machines, were flying ones.

Blake inside a flying vehicle, nope, just nope. First time he rode in a plane, it wasn't pretty. A memory Blake preferred to keep buried in the depths of his mind; a story for another time.

"Anyways, I shall be waiting by the vehicle provided to us by HQ," he gave a slight wave, heading into the halls.

---

His lips twitched back in a grimace, seeing that they were given one of those cars that seemed to hover ever so slightly off the ground. It was quite a sleek design, built however they were built. Blake hardly noticed as he pulled his light jacket tighter around himself.

What a way to start the day, and with 2 people he had only recently met. His predatory nature was snarling, furious. To show such weakness, unforgivable if he were show even the slightest uncertainty before these strangers. No, he would do no such thing.

A low rumble started to emit from his chest, silver eyes glaring at the vehicle. He personally would rather crush it and be done with it, but this was their transportation, so he would have to just suffer. Blake reached outwards, fingers pressing a few buttons on the door…but nothing happened.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure of what he had done wrong. Blake repeated the pressing of buttons, to only get the same result. The low rumble that started in his chest seemed to grow louder into an audible growl.

"Stupid machines," he hissed under his breath, "Why do they need to make this shit as complicated as possible."

Sure, it had been only a few moments of him struggling with it, but it was clear that Blake was one of those who was easily frustrated by 'technology'. He never had a use for such things, so he never really spent the time to understand it all.

Ugh, this was going to be a hell of a blow to his 'pride', to have one of his squad members help him with this machine just to get inside so they can head to the northern outskirts of the city, check that crime scene, then head further to the hillside to visit the manor, and so forth.

What a way to start…

Zephyr, wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and gloves, to hide as much of his metal parts as possible - although his face was kind of a lost cause - stepped from the building. It wasn't clear from just looking at him, but he was armed to the teeth. It didn't show at all, with 99% of his weaponry in his metal parts. It was kind of useful, especially when he was trying to remain out of notice. He tapped a button on the right side of his face, and the metal side of his face flashed and pulsed, turning the pale of his skin. It didn't look quite right, but unless anyone looked closer, they would just think he had scars on his face.

Although the owners probably knew that he was a cyborg, it often frightened people like them. His appearance was quite unnerving, although it wasn't as bad as "Blake's," who could frighten even a trained killer like him.

Said being was was currently standing in front of the vehicle they were going to use, one of the new models that the SAS had come out with, built for speed, and most likely bulletproof, as well. Blake didn't seem to know how to open the thing, which Zephyr, who didn't usually care about such things, found amusing. The flesh side of his mouth tugged up in a smirk, which he didn't bother to disguise as he walked over to the car.

"You look like you need some help," he said, stating the obvious.

Although he knew it probably wasn't a good idea, he pushed Blake out of the way and hit a few buttons on the car door, which opened with a slight hiss that would have been inaudible to the normal human ear. "Did they tell you the code at all?" He asked the creature beside him. "Or did they just send you out and expect you to know the code instinctively?"

He was pretty sure that it was the second option. No one would want to approach Blake if they were in their right minds. Although he looked mostly human, the thing around his neck and the silver eyes, which were polished by age and anger, showed otherwise.

He slid into the driver's side. He already had the address to the manor programed into his head, so when that other cyborg, Edward-or-whatever came out, they could get going.

( So sorry for the late response, I've been going through a lot lately )

The way Blake hissed 'database' caused me to furrow my brow, clenching my fist into a tight grip, but I kept the reaction as minimal as possible. As Blake explained the race and their mental capacity, I'd changed my mind and agreed that the scene of the crime was a more ideal first stop. As the two teammates stood up, I could hear the repetivite ring-clicking in the back of my mind, gripping the back of my figurative shirt collar and pulling me into a seperate state of reality.
I fell backwards, my back hitting snow and bark. I open my eyes to see the snowflakes once more. Dr. Rose was examining a patch of unbothered snow atop a still green leaf.
"Any update on the meeting?" He called out to me expecantly, not even bothering to look in my direction as he continued, "I presume you managed to establish yourself as enough of a harmless bastard to stay off of your new partners' kill lists, yes?"
Frustrated, I squinted my eyes at Dr. Rose. Normally he'd wait until my next rest to speak to me. Why did he call me here so soon after the previous talk? Regardless, there was no way I'd ask him such a question, so instead I answered his.
"We had a civil discussion about the case and our next plan. I was actually following them out of the meeting room before you called me."
Maybe if I mentioned that he interrupted me, he'd say something about why.
"I see. Anyway, did you notice anything about…Blake?"
I blinked my eyes, recalling any and all interactions I experienced with him.
"Other than the fact that he's a mysterious and highly powerful being that no one dares to approach? No, Dr. Rose, he played the part of his reputation like it was a toy. Why are you asking?"
Immediately after the question exited my lips, I regretted it. Dr. Rose finally stood up and turned to face me, a hardened expression staring me down, waiting for my retreat.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Rose."
He inhaled sharply, shaking his head tentively as he turns away from me.
"If you're done violating other's personal business like it's nothing, I suggest you hurry to your team before they leave you behind, because they will if you're not careful."
I exhale slowly, nodding. "Yes, Dr. Rose."
The snow quickened, blurring my vision and causing me to grow dizzy.
Within seconds, my back hit the floor in the meeting room, as if not even a minute passed.
I shuffled quickly out of the building, seeing Blake and Zephyr enter the car as I speed-walked my way there, hopping in the car and taking a seat.

Ah, about damn time one of them showed up to the car. Blake had barely taken a step back when Zephyr appeared before him. Hearing the sneer in the other's voice, and then add being pushed to the side, made his inner beast fume with rage. However, with many years of trained experience, he kept himself in check.

Instead, the thin male curled his lips back, revealing his fangs. He may appear physically incapable of taking on a more muscled and empowered looking individual, but then looks could be deceiving. Blake's silver eyes glared at Zephyr for several moments, then shifted down, watching as he input whatever code it was into the hovering vehicle.

Yea, that was just too complicated. Even with a trained eye, depicting what had just happened in that flurry of fingers would leave anyone bewildered. Then again, Blake didn't really have any want to learn the code and memorize it. Though, the cyborg made a fair point with the questions. Very few took the time to try and tell him such things.

Maybe he just needed more patience…to learn the more 'technological' part of the world…

"I know little to nothing of technology. Never had a need for such things," he replied.

Blake was doing his best to keep his tone neutral, though there was perhaps a slip of slight annoyance. Solo missions he did that involved technology or the such, like computers, electronics, often required outside sources. Otherwise Blake's 'philosophy' to deal with such things involved a good smash to whatever the electronic/technology was being a problem to him. A bit primitive yes, but more often than not, it got the job done.

He entered the car without another world. Once inside, the male instantly pulled his jacket up over his head, covering his eyesight. Nope, no way was he gonna look out while they drove. Besides, for all he knew, the drive could be one of those 'need-for-speed' types that pushed the gas a bit too much when they could be going at a slower rate.

Of course, Blake didn't know if Zephyr was that kind of driver or not, but better to be safe than sorry. That's all he needed, pulling up to the last crime scene, feeling ill with muddled senses. He'd be no help then, especially when he himself proposed to seek out any possible leftover scents.

---

Once all three had entered the vehicle, did it take off, the driver taking them to their destination.

A curb, tall buildings on either side towered overhead. Near the entrance of an alleyway, yellow caution tape corralled the area off from bystanders. Either side, two large men stood guard. Their size alone stated they weren't human, but some supernatural of some kind. However, being apart of S.A.S., they were there to stand and keep the place out of sight from prying eyes.

The men stood to attention, sending uneasy glares towards the silver haired male as he walked past, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Blake was just glad to be on solid ground, and out of that tin can. Between possible motion sickness and feeling entrapped, it was no wonder the male avoided vehicles.

His footsteps were the only thing heard, however, his silver eyes were moving back and forth, scanning the scene. It was only further in the alley, were those little tags set up and around. The murder had indeed only happened a day ago, so there were most likely things the crew that discovered it hadn't come across. Things which they could possibly find and use to piece together the bizarre scenario.

Blake moved, though he came to pause at a certain wall. It seemed old, brick starting to crack in places. The man's eyes narrowed, studying the crevices. He approached closer, moving a hand, running his fingers across the rough surface. Blake stopped partially on the way down, a larger crevice appearing.

He spoke softly, speaking something in some unknown, guttural tongue. A few chitters and clicks, then movement from around his throat. The thing that had once been curled as a choker, started moving down his shoulder and the wall. That 'choker' revealed to be none other than a demonic looking centipede creature. It moved forward down Blake's arm, soon disappearing into the crevice where his hand rested near.

Blake waited a few moments, then removed his hand, stepping back. His pet would continue the investigation there. Strange yes, but a possible point of interest that required attention nonetheless. Everything, down to even the smallest detail, would be needed to be taken into consideration here.

He returned to walking through the small area, finally coming to kneel next to what could only be the 'splattered' outline of the unfortunate individual. Once again, silver eyes scanned the area closely. His gaze shifted, noticing several scorch marks on the wall nearby.

"Hmph, she was probably trying to defend herself, fireballs. A simple enough spell."

Blake muttered more to himself, but it would most likely be heard by the others. He himself was more focused on trying to find some hint of something that could lead to a possible scent. So far though, trying to pick up anything was proving unfruitful for Blake. He could normally find scents with little to no problem, but for some reason, this one was evading him…less someone managed to find traces of the killer which he could then use to possibly pick up the scent…

Jill sat in the corner of the room. Her therapist, Mr. Grey, was guiding Jill through her meditations. All in all, Jill was frustrated from a mission that did not go so well. She acutely remembered how Zubi tore the child's arm off and watched it-

Stop associating people as 'it's', Jill. Just calm down. Listen to the music. Don't let the past define who you are now, but let the past teach you to be better. You have your arm now, gifted to you by S.A.S. You owe them.

"Miss Etkans?" The familiar voice of Mr. Grey brought her back to reality, which was a rather cold room with cameras in adjacent corners, both locked onto her. Outside of the singular entrance, a guard waited to escort Jill to wherever she needed to go.

"It's only temporary," They said. "Just until we know you can control yourself, so you aren't a liability to yourself and others." Jill didn't like that they didn't give her a say in the matter.

Jill sighed, massaging her temples to clear her head of conflict. The conflict remained, sadly, and Zubi was faintly present, nourishing it like kindling about to burst aflame. "Yes?"

"Miss Desir wanted to see you. You have been assigned to a mission-" To that Jill winced, Zubi at the near front of her mind, scratching Jill's mental walls in eagerness for control. Jill sucked in a breath and released it, making sure Zubi knew her place. Her bronze arm glowed yellow as Zubi backed off, at least for now.

"As I was saying, you will be doing a mission with a group, and you will be expected to comply." Mr. Grey's stone cold eyes drilled into Jill as she balled up her fists.

Jill's eyes flared a dark red and a grimace ran across her face. "You expect me-!" Zubi yelled, but was choked out by Jill, her body looking up at the cream-colored ceiling, regaining control after a few seconds.

"Your ability to settle Zubi has improved. That's all I needed to know." Jill let out a sigh of relief, thank goodness that she wasn't- "But you are assigned with a group this time. Hopefully Mr. Savary will know how to keep you in check."

"But-" Jill's memories of the past gushed into her mind and raced around, increasing themselves like a flood. The last time she was in a group, she was with a male human and a minor supernatural. Just as they got close to the anomaly–A group of Selkies–Zubi rose above Jill's thoughts unexpectedly and took control, killing everyone but one Selkie, which Zubi threatened to, "gouge your eyes out and watch your disembodied limbs be put on display" if the Selkie ever returned again. At least her crewmates–which weren't really good fighters but newbies–were killed deftly.

"Miss Etkans, we went over this. You cannot grow in strength without struggle. Besides, Mr. Savary was somewhat like you, if I recall correctly. You just need to give yourself a few more years and you'll be a master at this." The slim doctor awaited Jill's response. Jill nodded. "Good," Mr. Grey said. "Then we don't have any complications then."

---

Walking steadily into the front lobby area, Jill eyed Miss Desir with a nervous smile. Thankfully, Zubi was dormant.

"Thank you for going on the mission. I know it's last minute, but… think of this as your trial, to see how your lessons with Doctor Grey have been working. Alright?" Desir's eyes were tired, and to Jill, maybe a bit sad, too.

Jill looked down at the floor. "Alright. I guess I'll be on my way then."

The secretary perked up. "Oh yes, since you were a last-minute addition, the rest of the group has been sent to the crime scene already. A vehicle has been prepped for your transport." Miss Desir rested her hands close together on the desk Jill nodded and turned. "Oh, and please," Jill stopped to hear the woman, "don't let what happened last time happen again. I know you are a wonderfully well-trained woman, but don't let your demons–or rather demon–get the better of you."

Jill smiled. "Don't worry, I won't." Or at least I hope so.

---

"M-Mister Savary, this one has been assigned to your group. H-Her name is Jill Etkans, a-and she's one of the Supernaturals that we have here. It has been ad-advised that she be k-kept in sight at all t-times, or may she be-" The escort fumbled with his words as he introduced her and her conditions, and Zubi had had enough of it. Jill agreed.

Jill stepped towards the kneeling man and her irises flickered a crimson red as Zubi spoke, "What he's trying to say is that I was a last minute attempt for S.A.S. to get rid of me, so sorry not sorry if I happen to get in your way." The escort took a hasty step back.

Jill took a second to put her hand to her head to settle the demon, rubbing her forehead with her right, human hand. "Sorry about that. Zubi doesn't like introductions. Anyways, I'm Jill. Worked here for only a couple years now, and even then, I guess I'm a bit… unpredictable, per say." She chuckled as she watched the escort retreat to the small car she was in–a sleek and dark Subaru–and drive away. "Guess there's no turning back now. So what's with," Jill pointed to the bloody remains of the victim, "her?"

Edward was taking too long. Zephyr fiddled with the keys, twisting them around his fingers and sliding them through his hands. Where was the other cyborg? He pursed his lips, annoyed. If they were to get this over with, then maybe it would be a good idea for all of the members to show up. Just a thought.

When Edward finally came shuffling out of the building, coming over to the car and climbing in the back, Zephyr felt his lips curve into a disdainful scowl. Working with amateurs like him… well, it'd be a relief to go back to working solo. He got things done so much faster when he was alone.

With a deft movement, he slid the keys into the ignition and started the car, the engine roaring in response. He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and the vehicle shot forward with a lurch, speeding out of the parking lot and onto the road. They went roaring down the street, going way past the speed limit, although with clear sign that the car belonged to the SAS, no one stopped them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zephyr noticed Blake, who had covered his face with his jacket, and he smirked in amusement. So apparently the so-called invincible demon-thing had some weaknesses after all. How… interesting.

Just to make things better, he applied a little bit more pressure to the gas pedal, and the car responded with a burst of speed, the numbers on the speedometer creeping closer and closer to 100.

He controlled the movement of the vehicle with a practiced ease, weaving in and out between other cars, not even bothering to pay attention to the honks and curses from the other drivers. With his speed, they arrived at the manor almost an hour ahead of schedule.

---

"M-Mister Savary, this one has been assigned to your group. H-Her name is Jill Etkans, a-and she's one of the Supernaturals that we have here. It has been ad-advised that she be k-kept in sight at all t-times, or may she be-"

Zephyr, who had been standing nearby, listening to the escort, a weak, stuttery man, as he introduced the latest team member, and scowled. He had been crouching nearby, examining the ground around the body, when the man and a woman had entered. He wiped his fingers against the ground around the corpse, lifting his hand to examine what had been smeared onto the metal.

"What he's trying to say is that I was a last minute attempt for S.A.S. to get rid of me, so sorry not sorry if I happen to get in your way." A cold voice spoke, and all his instincts bristled, warning him of danger. He looked up.

The woman who had entered, Jill, didn't seem like much. About average height for woman, with short brown hair and sharp brown eyes. But there was something lurking in her gaze, something unearthly and most certainly not human.

He stood, looking her up and down for a moment with a cool, indifferent gaze, and then dismissed her, glancing away. Another useless team member. Sure, she was probably dangerous, but what would a demon do to help figure out a string of murders?

As the car bulleted through the traffic within seconds after starting the engine, I glance up in a contained reaction to Zephyr. He seemed comfortable and in control, so I wasn't going to question his speed. Instinctively I shift my gaze to Blake, noticing his clearly failed attempt to hide his discomfort. Is this the thing Dr. Rose wanted me to pay attention to?
As if it matters to me.
Within minutes, we arrive at the location, everyone swiftly hopping out of the car, Blake seemingly shuffling as quickly as possible, as I scan my surroundings.
Everything looks exactly as described in the file, apart from the caution tape, tags, and various officials standing around discussing their thoughts, whether about the crime or unrelated completely. I examine the remains, though unassuming at first, could contain several pieces of information. Though, the pieces are about a day old, so I don't have a clear idea of exactly how much I could gather from this.
Instinct told me to look at Blake right as he placed his hand on the worn down wall nearby. It was certainly too dark to see exactly what he was doing, but he looked focused, and he held his stance with intent for a few seconds. I furrow a brow curiously, trying to lean to the side to get a better angle, but before I can, he drops his hand and turns back to face the scene. I look away quickly and return to my examinations. What am I supposed to notice about him? Why does Dr. Rose need to know?
I had to shake the thoughts out of my head before Dr. Rose's stern glare overpowered my concentration. As I returned to reality, the shaky voice of a new person behind us resonated through the alley, followed by a dark, bellowing voice.
I turn my neck before turning the rest of my body as I notice our newest recruit, her appearance shifting from a foul and powerful force, to a seemingly more human and unassuming woman.
Dr. Rose interrupted me to ask for information, but didn't bother to inform me of a new recruit?
No, no, it's fine, I reminded myself, I can't be questioning Dr. Rose anyway.
I approach the group, a friendly, but firm smile appearing on my face as I introduce myself.
"My name is Edward, I presume you've been briefed already?"

Blake let his eyes wander over the scorch marks on the wall. There had been a struggle clearly, but the attacker must've had the element of surprise at their disposal, from the observations. The fireballs had missed the assailant, giving them the opportunity to strike and attack.

He paused, hearing the sound of an approaching vehicle outside of the alley. The male turned his head slightly as footsteps that didn't sound like either of the cyborgs approach. An annoyed 'tsk' left him as he heard the stutters of the man.

Blake stood up from his kneeling position, coming to turn around and face them. His arms had moved to cross in front of his chest, silver eyes glowing, showing his annoyance. The male's lips curled to show fangs at the stammering escort. He appeared to be ready to snap something, when the strange woman answered.

Oh great, from the scent she carried, as well as seeming to carry two presences instead of a singular one, a human possessed by a demon, or one that made a pact with one. Blake wasn't told of this, which agitated him further. 'Sorry about Zubi', must be the demon's name. As for the woman's, she called herself 'Jill'.

Silver eyes glared directly into the woman's own eyes, as if looking straight through her and instead towards the demon that resided in that fleshy prison, if you could call it that. Either way, the 'human' was hardly a threat, it was that 'demon'. A major clash of two predators was now set upon the working set. Course, Blake had an advantage, being of an unknown variant of predator. He would be clear to let that be known.

He knew the destructive capabilities of demons, having dealt with such beasts in the past. He may have not declared himself 'leader' of this squad, but he sure as hell was going to let it be known that certain things were not going to be tolerated…more of a reassurance to himself possibly? Who knew with the guy.

"Of course…leave it to S.A.S. to send a last minute recruit," he hissed softly under his breath. Though he lifted his voice to be heard soon after the comment, "So a demon is sent amongst our midst? I only ask that your 'fire' is kept under control."

Blake's eyes narrowed even further, pupils thin slits nearly lost in the vast silver gaze. It was clear, his entire form, though lithe and almost weak looking, was radiating with that unknown energy, an energy that would send anyone and anything retreating for the nearest escape. The faint sound of clicking seemed to emit from him, clicking and growls.

"The last one to so much as ignite a small spark in my presence had the mishap of nearly being digested in my stomach."

A rather grotesque warning, but it was one way to get the point across. He wouldn't hesitate to swallow a fellow member, if his primal instincts figured them to be a threat.

Blake turned back to the matter before him, "As for the victim, brutally murdered, with only the left ankle left intact with an unknown mark. These attacks have been happening for the past 2 weeks. This scene is the most recent, having only happened a day ago. A witch is the victim, as our killer has started moving up the foodchain from simple humans, to weak supernatural, and only a matter of time before they move to larger, more powerful prey. Anything else you want to know, feel free to ask the other two."

He then returned to observing the scene. Blake moved further away, seeming to be drawn further back the alley. The others could remain back and continue their examinations there if they wanted, or also look wherever they decided. The thin male stopped, glancing towards the wall out of the corner of his eye, several dumpsters in place. His narrowed eyes scanned the large containers, the stench most likely unbearable to many, but to Blake, it was just a minor inconvenience. Scents had a way of intermingling with one another, that made it hard to distinguish one from the other. It took time, and patience to sort them all, and focus on the one that could possibly be a lead.

Minutes passed, perhaps ten minutes in all, before Blake seemed to find what he was looking for, gaze sparking to life again. With hands deep in his pockets, he wandered towards the back close to one of the bins. He looked towards the side, seeing a smaller box nearby. It probably would blend in with the rest of the garbage, were it not for the smell coming from it.

Blake, without any thought of dangers or the such, picked up the cardboard container, opening it. The smell that erupted was of blood and what humans would probably describe as 'wet dog' smell. His lips curled in disgust, hissing that unknown language under his breath.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events, a newly changed skinwalker perhaps. Smart of them to take their tools, but foolish to leave the container behind, and not discard it properly."

With his found item, he turned, heading back towards the splattered scene, coming to pause nearby. Blake held up the cardboard box, though he had closed it again. His facial features returned to their more neutral appearance, speaking loudly to be heard.

"Seems we have what our killer is, as I suspected a young thing, inexperienced, but learning quickly."

His silver eyes scanned the rest of the group, "Though, if the rest of you found anything, please, do share."

"That does fit," Zephyr agreed, running his flesh hand along the wall, his eyes scanning the corners and cracks. "The killings all seem messy and inexperienced, or just rushed. The question is, though, why these victims? And why the mark?" He shook his head. "But… it seems more like the creature wants to get our attention more than anything else."

He bent down to examine the floor and ran his fingers along the dust in the corner, before lifting it to his nose to smell it. There was the faint smell of rot. "It doesn't seem that this room was cleaned very well," he observed in his usual cold, hard voice.

He had completely ignored Edward and the new girl, Jill. They hadn't said anything, so he had stopped watching them as heavily. He stood. "How long do we have to examine the site?" He asked Blake, his metal eye flashing red as it ran over the surfaces in the room, analysing and observing for him.

He clenched his metal hand into a fist, and a small blade, more of a scalpel, really, emerged from one of his fingers. He let it fold back into his finger and glanced around. There didn't seem to be anything else of note. As much as he hated to admit it, Blake had guessed the same thing as Zephyr had, more or less.

"Was the body moved before we got here?" He asked.

I returned eventually to the task at hand, knowing how inexperienced I was at detective work, I needed to put much more effort into this than my usual autopilot of locating a target and taking them out. I'd already noticed my difficulty to focus on tasks when they don't involve action. Strangely enough, I'd almost wished that something would happen to give me an opportunity to leap into action.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that's probably not a good thing for me to think; but for some reason I just feel guilty, as if I'm not doing any work when I should be.
I need to remained focused. I shake my head and listen to Zephyr and Blake discuss questions.
"I presume it's just the left ankle," I begin, responding to Zephyr's last question. "Like in the file, it said the body is ripped to shreds, but the left ankle is unscathed, the only evidence being the mark." As much as I hated it, my memory was impeccable. Dr. Rose recorded everything I see and keeps it for analysis. He says he needs to keep it for data purposes, but the only thing he does with the data is to point out every time I make the smallest of mistakes. Which is why I can never allow myself to make a mistake. Perfection is my only option.
"Do we know whether the mark is left by the killer, or if the mark is due to all the victims being a part of some organization, requiring a mark on the ankle?"
I place my thumb on my chin, my forefinger under, as I think hypothetically.
"Leaving a mark as the killer could be his signature. I think if the killer was going after members of an organization, he would most want to destroy the symbol representing said organization. It'd be too easy to connect the dots and figure out who the organization wronged. Unless, of course, the organization wronged a ton of people and got away with it."
I realized I had rambled, but I suppose there's no harm in brainstorming. I was no expert in criminology, but I knew a thing or two about grudges, and I know someone who may relate to my hypothetical situation.