Dimitri slipped into the doorway of his tiny apartment, quietly shutting the door behind him with his foot. He had been living in the dismal apartment for several years now, and though it was dilapidated and worn it felt like home. The wallpaper was peeling, and there were several large brown stains scattered around. In some places it was torn, revealing the solid brick wall behind it. The kitchen to the right of the front door was grimy, with dirt smudged into it's tiles and dirty plates stacked in large piles. After throwing his bloody knife in the sink, Dimitri pulled his gloves off, dropping them in the trash. He picked up a paint brush, and moving over to the easel in the corner of the room he started adding delicate strokes to the painting that already rested upon it. Several minutes later he smiled to himself and dropped his brush in a nearby pot. His second matter of business now completed, he stepped into his bedroom and fell asleep in a chair facing the door. His painting, a man with no eyes in his sockets, stared blankly at the front door.

Shamus yawned as he punched in. “Castor what in thee name o’ tha saints are ya doing with that bloody cigarette in yer mouth… ye no there isn’t no smoking in the office… I swear lad those things are going ta be the death of ya…” He said checking his magazines to ensure they were full. “So… any new leads lad?”

Jack got out of his car. The rain pouring outside was no deterrent to him, as he walked up to one of the police officers on duty, watching over the crime scene.

"Jack Finch, New Brighton post. Would you say this is another Clockwork killing or just another gang shooting taking up the police's time?"

The police officer sent Jack away in a not so polite way. Jack decided he needed to get this story from the actual professionals. The ones who were investigating the Clockwork killer.

"Nah... The guy's as slippery as a damn eel, every scene it's the same deal; no fingerprints, no motive, the same murder weapon. All in all noting we can use..." Derrik said, puffing a cloud of smoke at his senior detective.
"And anyway, what's wrong with a little smoke every once in a while? It's not that deadly... Well not as deadly as some of the guys around these parts..."

“Well then I say we put ‘im out o’ ‘is misery the bastard… he deserves no mercy… if we can’t get a lead when we meet the bastard… blow ‘im away… can’t loop his way if their ain’t no loop to be had… as fer your smoke… one day we’ll be sneaking through a building… and were gonna get caught cause of that infernal small lad…”