Participants:
| Scene Title | Brain Stealer Case |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | That's what is dropped on Detective Cooper's desk, along with a rumor about a partner. |
| Date | March 06, 2010 |
The New York Police Department Head Quarters is an old stone building, rennovated many times over the years. The plaster walls are not as cracked and in need of repair as the various Precinct buildings around the city. The fluorescent lights give the room a rather sterile glow. Old posters, civic reminders, duty rosters and newspaper clippings are tacked up on the walls, rustling every time one of the doors opens. A high, wooden desk sits on the north wall, manned by two clerks, who records all visitors and arrests.
The way out to the street lies to the south, while doors to the offices of the Head Quarters lie to the northwest.
“Cooper!” The name is called sharply from across the detective's room.
“What?!” Is the sharp, exasperated reply from the middle aged man, though it's muffled and somewhat distorted by the bite of donut currently being chewed. Detective Thomas Cooper was very much his stereotype when it comes to donuts. To him there was no better a food created by man, especially if it's sprinkled with a little bit of sugar. You could hold it in one hand and still have the other hand free to go for your gun.
Heart attack is in his future.
Well, if he survives that long.
Whump
A pair of files drops into the little stereotypical inbox on the edge of the detectives desk, the man who dropped them there, gives Cooper a big smug grin. “You get the brain stealer case. ”
Thomas glances at the pair of files suspiciously. “Whoa.. wait.. Me?”
“Yep.. don't ask me why brass wants to put you on the case, but.” The other man, with a receding hairline and gray temples, still wearing the NYPD blues that stretch oddly over that spare tire in the front, makes a grand gesture at the files. “Enjoy.” The stocky man starts to wander away looking rather pleased with himself.
The donut the detective had been munching on is dropped back in the pick cardboard box, after a final generous bite is taken, fingers brushed off on the dark blue slacks of Cooper's suit, teeth mashing at the sweet goodness, he reaches for the files.
“Cooper!”
This time the homicide detective jumps visibly, “Fuckin' hell, Rodgers.“ He turns the chair, it gives a squeal of protest as he gives the man a 'what the hell?' look before answering with an irritated, “What?!”
The portly cop, presses hands on the surface of the empty desk behind Cooper, that big old shit eating grin there. “Forgot to tell ya, I thought I'd give you the good news…” The man looks a touch thoughtful, grin waning slightly. “Well, rumor really.” He pushes up form the desk straightening that grin spreading again. “Rumor has it, you might be getting' a partner finally.”
That piques the detectives interest. “Really?” His head turns this way and that, as if this is some sorta bit secret, before Cooper leans towards the portly cop. “The – ah – the rumors say who?”
“Oh yeah… Demsky.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Huh..” Thomas Cooper has heard all the rumors on that man. Not that he takes them as truth.. and if their true, hell, what's he gonna do? Nothing wrong with it. “Okay. Thanks Rodgers.” Thomas Cooper turns back to his desk, fingers finally snagging the file, while the big cop ambles away to do…. whatever it is he does.
“Wendy Hunter…” Cooper murmurs to himself as he catches the name on the tab. “Alrighty, Miss Hunter, lets see what the big bad wolf did to you.” The thick file is slowly opened, the report and her Registration paper on the left and right of it. “Evolved…” The word is drawn out slowly, the detective sounds impressed, but then he always found anyone with some sort of ability fascinating.
An index finger runs over the report page slowly, pale green eyes run over the words as he reads. The cause of death makes his brows lift a bit. “Severe cranial trauma…” Tip of a finger catches the edge of the first page and lifts it, searching on the next page, then he start flipping through pages as if looking for something.
His tongue moves to pick at bits of donut stuck in his back teeth, which makes his jaw shift to the side. “Huh….” The flipping stops as he finds himself look at the glossy photo of one Wendy's Hunter's, open skull. There is a cluck of his tongue and he jerks the photo out of the file, leaning back in his chair. He turns it one way and then the other. “So that's what severe cranial trauma looks like.”
The photo lowers some and Thomas' brows drop a bit in a frown. “I suddenly feel like watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.” That gets an odd look form a detective at another desk near the homicide detective. “Maybe a Hannibal movie.” His chair squeaks a bit as he sits straight again and pushes the photo back into place and starts to seriously read through the file, making notes on people to talk to about the poor young woman.
In truth, cases like this part of the reason he went to Narcotics.
Well, that and his ex-wife was a real bitch.