This place is a mess.
One victim, mutilated, heavily, on the couch, grotesquely posed to watch T.V, the other in the shower, well, most of him. Camera flashes take it all in as men in sweat-soaked suits murmur respectfully about motives, epidemics, and, just once, about monsters.
What do they know about monsters?
After clearing the yellow caution tape, I take over the scene from the pirmary responders, and the witness: a seven foot angel, hunched in the corner, nursing a broken wing, his knee dislocated. He nods when I look at him and, if I'm careful, I could use this. I say out-loud, without looking at anyone specific,
"What happened here?"
The first constable gives me the rundown. I skim it for useful facts; none.
The angel, talking over him in a voice only I can hear, tells me everything he saw.
A man, allied with a demon, responding to his animal urges. The angel fought, saved the child, who I know has gone in the ambulance for a check-up and observation. The angel asserts this isn't the last we've seen of this man, but this is the most sloppy. If we're going to get him, we need to get him before he gets good.
"Someone give me something to run with."
The constable says it's no use; the place is (hah.) un-holy clean, but the angel points while wiping blood off his split lip.
I hurry over, finding a tooth embedded in the carpet next to the wall. People already think my powers of deduction are creepy, I'm not really worried it will arouse suspicion, but it may be prudent to exercise caution later.
I gesture for an evidence bag and, pretending distraction to the owner of the proffered bag, gaze directly at the angel's eyes,
People are clapping me on the back, congratulating my 'great eyesight'.I just hope I haven't used up too much luck for us to pull clean D.N.A.
This new advantage both excites and scares me. We have a break on a huge case, these lucky-breaks usually only happen in one out of every 30 cases. This could be the greatest thing to happen to forensics since fingerprints. Should I tell others? It would be easy enough to prove I'm not crazy; pull some random ESP stunts. Here, my selfishness gets the better of me; This could raise me to international acclaim. I run the risk, however, of becoming too reliant on this new tool. I float through the rest of the day on a cloud of debate, finally clocking out early for once.
On the way home I grab chicken and corn from a mom & pop's corner market. My live-in friend has cooked for us both for the past month, so every night I arrive home to warm food. His skill seems to be increasing exponentially. I'm pondering bringing home increasingly weird food to cook with. He also made an attempt to clean the house, but I think his standard of clean is different from mine.
I'm...proud of him.