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Detective Johnson: "Johnson! Over here" a gaunt face becomes visible in what appears to be the kitchen. "You got here just in time. Come see what we found in the sink!" The face disappears behind the wall. Detective Johnson nods and makes his way from the door to the kitchen careful not to step on the hands trying to grab his ankles as he walks. The gaunt man is staring into the sink when Johnson reaches the door. Uniform pants reach out from under the sink as one of the new SCU recruits inspects the bottom of the sink for the detective. "Johnson, you're not going to believe this" the gaunt man says halfway chuckling as he turns to face the detective "That fucker's throat, windpipe, spine and everything else is the fucking sink drain! Not IN the sink drain. It IS THE SINK DRAIN! Not lying man! Take a look!" Johnson walks carefully across the blood slicked tile floor to the sink and looks in. A moment later he jumps back as a loud snap of teeth is heard in the sink. "Did I forget to mention he's still alive?"
Detective Johnson: "Yeah you did. That fucking thing almost bit me, Flint!" Johnson picks up a broken table leg and swings it down into the sink. A loud crack and wet thud echo as the chair leg connects with the head in the sink, crushing the skull and brain. The head gurgles and goes silent as Johnson stands over the sink watching. "I want this whole thing taken back as evidence. The sink, the head. this leg. All of it." The uniformed officer under the sink slides out and salutes before leaving the room.
Detective Johnson: "Fiend."
Detective Johnson: "What are you talking about, Johnson?"
Detective Johnson: "It looks like we have a fiend in our city" Johnson drops the table leg next to the sink and turns to face Flint.
Detective Johnson: "A fiend? You mean one of those old world blood suckers?" Flint looks shocked as he holds up his hands "slow down man. You ain't even seen the rest of the place yet. Don't those blood sucking bastards have some sort of code they hide behind? Don't do anything to scare the cattle or some shit?"
Detective Johnson: "Some do. Others don't give a fuck about the cattle" Johnson points into the sink "This one doesn't give a fuck about the cattle. I know someone that might have an idea of what we're dealing with. Make sure our friend gets where he needs to go and we'll talk about what I find out later."
Detective Johnson: Johnson leaves the kitchen and exits room 512. On his trip back out he is much less careful of where he steps and breaks a few fingers on his way out. There's enough left to be used as evidence but this is a phone call that he had to make. "This had to be a Tzimisce and from the looks of things here it has to be old and powerful." Johnson nods at the uniform running past him carrying a saw as he continues to talk into the phone. "I'm heading there now. Hopefully they'll have information on this bastard."
Detective Johnson: The fifth floor is still buzzing with activity as Johnson gets on the elevator. The young officer he met on his way in is nowhere in sight as he makes his way out. Hopefully this will be the last time the young man responds to a call like this but Johnson isn't hopeful.
Detective Johnson: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Detective Johnson: firstname.lastname@example.org
Detective Johnson: ((Change everything to 216 instead of 512.... typed it out originally for 512))
Callidora Carolos aka C.C.: *the late hour has her on her guard, and she moves carefully to the door before taking her copy of key and using it*
Callidora Carolos aka C.C.: *Gloved fingers, utmost caution...and in she slips*
Callidora Carolos aka C.C.: *gone within*