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Snippet #2441933

located in Tokyo, a part of Gunpoint Justice, one of the many universes on RPG.

Tokyo

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tera Reed Character Portrait: Geoffrey Allan
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Fortunately for Tera, her inspector were one of the thorough types. As long as she identified herself as with him, she was going to spend a while at the motel. Back in the room, once Tera and the paramedics left the room to Geoff's devices, it became his turn. Reaching back into his coat pocket, he pulled out a pair of latex gloves and donned them, snapping the last one into place. Now with the fear of contaminating the crime scene quelled, Geoff can begin his analysis. Before he made his rounds, he gave the room a thorough look over.

It was a typical motel room. Standard two room design-- bedroom taking up a majority of the space and the bathroom a simple closet space. The decor was cheap, palm tree wallpaper with beige accents. A broken lamp sat in the corner, which Geoff chalked up to Tera's and the suspect's scuffle. Next to the door was a chair that Geoff had planned to throw if things went south for his Enforcer. It was good thing he didn't touch it-- the chair was position in such a way that someone obviously sat in it at one time. Squinting his eyes at it, he made a mental note to get it checked out for DNA. Though the chances of it pulling up something besides thirty other people was low. They hardly cleaned motel rooms like this.

All of that was axillary however. The focal point of the whole room was the body on the floor. Geoff took a step closer, careful not to step in the blood and bent down next to it. Female, young, the artist's usual victims. His mouth formed a hard line as he inspected her. They were late and she suffered because of it. He was going to have to find another bottle to drown in after that. To try and forget that failure, the darkness of it all-- though it never worked. He always woke up to another dreary morning with his head pounding like a drum.

He moved to gently cup the victim's face, putting his thumb near the curve of her chin. There he pulled back and inspected her throat. The Artist had a pattern of gouging out the victim's eyes only for their examiners to find them in their trachae. If they were in her throat, then they were further down as he couldn't see them. His hand fell from her chin to her throat where he felt around for anything unusual. There were lumps, which could have been her eyes, or they maybe they weren't. He wasn't a medical examiner after all. He'd let them test for rape too. Standing up and taking a few steps back, he looked upon the "art piece" in full.

How sick does someone have to be to think such macabre acts could even be considered art. What went wrong in that person's life to make them walk down that road? Geoff tilted his head curiously at the thought. They her was, trying to play armchair psychologist again. It wasn't his job to speculate, it was his job to nail down the hard facts and evidence. In front of him, the woman was displayed in an angelic pose. Her body was cut and bloody, the blood of which was used as paint to create the outline of wings on the floor. If there were any doubts that this was the artist's doing, then that fact alone dismissed them. Still, he had to keep an objective mind. Akira very well could be working alone-- a copy-cat killer though he didn't bet on it. Blood spattered the walls and floor in a haphazard manner as well, though these he'd analyze later to better under exactly how they were caused.

Geoff knelt down again, this time beside a bloody knife. It wasn't the butcher's knife or the pocket knife. Gingerly lifting the weapon up with two fingers he turned it over in his hand. It was covered in gore and viscera-- probably the victims. Tera's wound wasn't near that bad, and he was pretty sure that that knife wasn't the one that inflicted the injury on his Enforcer. That honor would probably go to the clever stuck in the door behind him. It'd be easier to cause injury with the cleaver than it would the knife anyway. The blade was made better for exact cuts-- ones that matched the victim's. The pocket knife was flimsy enough to not be the murder weapon either-- it could cause damage yes, but one would have to be proficient in it's use to be an effective killing weapon. His thoughts went out to Tera once more. Setting the blade back down, he added the the laundry list of mental notes to get the DNA checked out as well.

Standing back up he moved away and closer to the side wall to get a better view of the crime scene. Crossing his arms, Geoff set about tapping his bottom lip with his finger as he digested the information and added more mental notes to his already substantial list. In fact, he retrieved a small pad of paper form his pocket and began to transcribe some of them. He began to write down his thoughts and even some of the objects that the artist was likely to touch if he was, indeed, in this room as well at one point. A lot of them would be useless due to the number of people renting out this particular room, but being thorough was better than missing a collar because he was lazy.

Tera was going to get plenty of fresh air, because Geoff was going to be there for a while. Inspector Byakurai was probably getting the security tapes from last night-- he'd also take a look at those at some point. He'd let Inspector Itsuya and his new partner interrogate Akira-- Geoff wasn't much of a talkative person to begin with. Jotting a number of things down, he began to head toward the door, curious as to the contents of the adjacent rooms. Stepping over the threshold of the entrance, Geoff turned right and tried the door on the left. The door gave way and he peered in. Nothing, the room was empty. A lingering gaze affixed the room for a few moments more before his curiosity was sated, and he closed the door.

He passed by the door to the crime scene on his way toward the rightmost room, expecting more of the same. He gripped the doorknob and twisted, but what followed next he didn't see coming. Instead of opening to an empty room, he opened to the barrel of a gun and the intent stare of a single green eye. The rest of the face was obscured by a gas mask and a red hoodie. Perhaps the quickest thing he'd done his entire life, he jerked himself to the left, which very well might have saved his life, at least for a little bit longer. A long cracking gunshot echoed through the motel, and a gunshot ripped its way through his shoulder.

Everything was drowned out but the acute sense if pain emanating from his shoulder. Even in injury, Geoff proved the silent type, though his usually emotionless face finally betrayed pain. He gripped his shoulder with his hand as he tumbled back and the sound of shattering glass was on the edge of his mind, still gripped with pain.