Curtis Yang's Story

"We'll talk upstairs, I'd rather avoid prying eyes and wandering ears."

"Yes, there have been too many," Belladonna says, getting up and heading towards the stairs. "Let us care not to disturb my father's session."

She clearly meant her father's current meeting with the detective. She clearly had some misgivings about this person aside from them being a detective, an uneasiness. As she walks up to a room across from the Don's of the upper floor she turns on a radio, likely to give eavesdroppers trouble.

As they go upstairs Rosa looks on with her head rested on her arm. In her eyes another juicy thing she is barred from by her elder sister. She looks over at Amaranth as he passes a drink on to Curtis

"There have been better days," he says answering Curtis as he begins drying a glass. "But there will always be better ones."

He always had an odd "the glass is half full" outlook, one that young Rosaline can only roll her eyes at.

Bella looks at the letter, a twinge of fury in her eyes. She had never had someone slip by her like this and she knows she can't be getting dull. In her mind she surmises that it must have been in that moment she was in with her father. She can't have people taking advantage of them.

"They took a risk, best not to disappoint." she says with a short breath.

As she says this the sound of floorboards come to her ears. It was the man in a dark trench who was talking with her father. A fairly tall man with distinct facial features partially covered by the brim of his hat. He was a former soldier turned private detective carrying with him a reputation for being too stubborn to die.

His deep green eyes set aglow as he lights a cigarette. She does not know how long he had been standing there. The man's presence was disturbing her.

"I get that it is a survival instinct," he says in a gravelly voice.

"What was that?" Bella responds.

"You being so secretive," he says as he blows out a fine stream of smoke. "I'm not your enemy, and I'm not here to bust any kind of operation you got going on."

He turns his back and places a hand on the stair railings. Bella looks on intensively, the man put her at unease, there's no sign of fear in him in their presence, almost as if he saw himself as an equal, or even above them in some manner.

"Oh yeah, something really off about this night, got my scars all itchy'."

With this cryptic warning the detective heads down the stairs and out of the establishment, Rosaline and Amaranth watch as he leaves.

"Who knows, now with Nightingale gone, maybe we'll get back a Parrot or a Lark."

"A parrot singing? We don't want people more agitated." Rosaline jokes back.

"Well, wouldn't hurt to have a new talent." Amaranth admits. "But there was always something... untouched... about that girl, like she wasn't from this world of ours."

Belladonna gets a first aid and begins by disinfecting the wound.

"A gash, deep but clean... you were in a hurry... you got noticed." She deduces, a marvel of instincts not too unlike her father. She starts to work at closing the wound using the suture kit, something she's become good at... though doubtful she'd make a good nurse.

"What happ-" She was abruptly cut off as a tone plays over the radio, an important message.

"A new victim in a line of brutal ritualistic murders was discovered just now in an alley way. Cause of death? Cubed. You heard me right, he was cut to pieces. Before I got thrown out by the badges I caught a glimpse of the... er... head of the victim... get this: it was Philippe, the youngest son of our favorite neighborhood tyrant. No shocker he'd be offed. However... this gets weirder... the psycho wrote a message in that poor slob's own blood. 'Monster.' The heck does that mean? Whatever the case, they'll be putting Humpty Dumpty back together for a few days so keep an eye out for some missing... pieces. The hell? Seriously, who wrote this? You laughing? Isn't funny.Don't touch me."

The broadcast cuts off. There's a bit of silence, some of the patrons seem suddenly in no big of a hurry to leave. This chain of murders has always been some criminal, big or small. Rumors have started spreading about some vigilante got tired of living in fear... others a bit more fantastical of a rogue angel purging the streets of the impure.

"Hey... isn't he one of them that killed..." Rosaline begins to blurt out before Amaranth casts a glare.

Amaranth pours up another drink for those at the counter. "No charge..." He says quietly, his voice almost cracking. This looks bad for them, real bad, and the last thing they want is another gang war.