Kickoff written by LuciusRaeven


Crime with supernatural elements

Lightly scarred fingers tapped the code out on the box, wind blowing lightly into the man's face and pulling his coat lightly. A voice on the other side spoke, the man looking at the glass door.


''Mason Weller.''

The sound of writing could be heard distantly on the other line before they spoke again.


He paused a moment, lowering his eyes to the toes of his shoes before looking back up at the code box.

''Twenty... Six... Twenty-six.''


''Lead investigator.''

The code box screams at him, door clicking open. He wraps his fingers around the handle and pulls it open, squinting into the sudden dark within the lobby as he steps inside, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the change of light.

''Hey, Mason!"

His eyes turn from the floor in front of him to the guard beside the door, hands folded in front of himself and soft smile on his face. He wears a dark navy uniform with short sleeves and black boots, taser on his holster and a nightstick on the other
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side, badge clipped to his breast pocket. Mason never grabbed his name, but knew he was the morning shift guard.

Mason nods to him, continuing inside of the building.

He has a folder under his arm, stamped and stamped again, showing that the case was completed but his report hadn't been. Mason approaches the door leading to the staircase, pulling it open and slipping in before he follows the steps up to the fourth floor where the supervisor's office sat. He jogs up the steps, brushing past one individual that catches his eye. Mason's the only one that uses the stairs.

The detective pushes the white, metal door open as he sees the number four plastered onto the wall in a contrasting black. Bodies are moving up and down the hall in a rush, Mason pressing himself back up against the wall as he watches them swim past him. He changes how he holds the folder before stepping into the current of people that are strangely in the center of the hall.

The agency had had a spike in forest cultists,
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giving them more cases than ever before and leading them on wild goose chases to nothing more than groups of people high on LSD and the need to be saved, giving them nothing to follow. Everyone in the hall carried the similar beige-colored folder, either against their chest or under their arms.

Mason brushes past the secretary's desk, the man there glancing up but saying nothing as Mason lets himself in to his supervisor's office, without an invitation. Dark eyes lift to him, watches as he pushes the dark wood door closed with a light 'click' to signify it shut properly.

''Detective Weller,'' they said, raising their chin. Mason smiles, crooked teeth revealing themselves.

''Did I lose our first name basis?"

He crosses the space between the door and the chairs.

''The moment you invited yourself in to my office.'' the supervisor responds, name in gold upon their desk. It simply reads ''Charlie'', signifying their name. They gave themselves a first, but never a last.

Mason drops
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the beige, stamped folder on the surface of the other's desk, ontop of the other folders that needed to be read. His smile is gone, he's simply staring and waiting as he collects his words properly. Charlie's thin fingers ghost over the folder before a nail lowers itself across the side of it, lifting the first page of the folder open to look at the papers within.

''Which case is this?" they ask. They're ring finger pushes the pages out of the way, revealing his report beneath the rest.

''The only one I've been on for the past year, Charlie.'' Mason responds. Charlie doesn't respond, doesn't show that they were irritated. They're eyes flicker over the words before landing on Mason's signature on the bottom.

''You had six months. Why has it extended to a year?"

''Technical difficulties.''

Charlie raises their eyes at the other's snarky tone, wants Mason to feel fear under the cold stare but he's as stubborn as the supervisor that sits in front of him calmly.

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