[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjAwMDAwMC5RVzF2YmlCU0xpQkNjbUZ1WkhRLC4y/brasileirinha-personal-use.regular.png[/img][/center] There was a loud roar and a torrent of swearwords, several thumps and thuds when flailing legs hit the desks as two of his officers dragged the unsuccessful arsonist away to the holding cell. Amon would have all but leaped out of his skin and pointed his gun straight at the source the moment the doors crashed open were he anywhere else. But over the years, these instances had become a regular part of his weekend life, as sorrowful as he was to admit, for it showed him the glaringly obvious. He was married to his job and had no social life. Wasn't that just depressing? But it wasn't as if it was all his choice to be on the job twenty-four seven. Supernatural or humans, they were eerily similar in that they could never resist the urge to cause mischieve, mayhem and generally make a nuisance of themselves during the weekends. Namely, starting from nightfall on Fridays until late evening on Sundays. It was routine week in, week out. Raking a hand through his hair, the Inspector loosened his blood red tie and leaned back in his chair, allowing his head to loll lazily to the side. The reports depicting the arrests made and suspicious activities noted during the weekends were done and dusted. All that was left to do was file them into their respective cabinets and he would be free to return home. His men currently manning the night shifts were experienced enough to have all bases covered, which meant his night wouldn't be disturbed unless shit hit the fan. Amon was rather grateful for that fact. It had been a pain to train his newbie team from scratch immediately after finishing a five-year stint as a member of an active field squad, but if it gave him a well-functioning team at the end of it all, then he deemed the hard work was well-paid off. Especially when it meant he had a night off, a rarity in itself. "Yo Boss!" Joel called from the door of Amon's small but cosy office. "I'm the food-runner tonight. Need me to get you anything?" Amon shook his head and mumbled. "Nah, don't bother. I doubt I can stomach anything now." His eyelids were growing rather heavy and he allowed his eyes to slip close the moment Joel left. Just a small nap couldn't hurt. He really didn't feel like doing anything right now either and the thought of returning to his home did not appeal to him. The two-bedroom apartment was cold and drafty in the middle of the night. And was pretty sure the dirty dishes from the day before was still sitting in his sink. Yeah, remaining in his office chair was a better choice. A least, that was what Amon thought as he drifted off. It felt as though he had gone under for only a minute before he was awoken sharply when a body collided heavily on his desk. Cracking one eye open, he gifted the rude intruder with a glare. "What is it this time? Another kidnapping? Murder in broad daylight? Invasion by giant octopus?" "Not quite, Boss. We have another one of those...guys on the run." Joel hesitated as he glanced down at the thin files, not quite wanting use the word 'Supernatural'. Through wordless agreement, the Inactives within his Division had long ago stopped classifying the criminals they went after as human or not. Instead they labeled them as suspects all the same. At Amon's questioning stare, he handed the files in his hands over, flicking a wrist to indicate the first page in the top folder. "Umm...actually, it's 'supposedly on the run'. He has been popping up around the city periodically, each time with another person missing from their homes or workplace. This has been going on for nearly two months now, and six individuals reported missing. Two of whom turned up dead this morning, apparently killed by strangulation on both accounts, according to the autopsy. The corpses are fresh. Haven't been dead for more than two days. If we catch a trail quickly when it's still relatively fresh, the suspect shouldn't be too far away." Amon straightened slightly as mild annoyance flared quickly before dying out again. There went his wistful wish of a free, uneventful evening. He sighed heavily, picking up the first paper sitting on top of the pile. "...The hell? We have a serial kidnapper and possible murderer running around Gravette nicking people off the streets at random for nigh on two months and the Mainstream Police Division [i]just[/i] got to us about it?" "Well, to be fair, the murders didn't happen until this morning, which was the only reason this case came to us. Anyway, here are the photos of all the missing people so far and the murdered victims." Joel eyed the Inspector with pursed lips and narrowed eyes as he tried for the umpteenth time to convey his disapproval. "You're gonna go alone again?" Pushing himself off the chair, Amon grabbed his suit jacket from where it was thrown carelessly over the visitor's chair. "Yes, I am. It is merely information gathering, Joel. I am hardly going to be gunned down on my way to the victim's workplace or within it. Not with so many witnesses around. Besides, this ain't my first rodeo." Amon allowed exasperated annoyance to coat his last few words as he gathered the manila files, tucked his pen and notebook into his breast pocket and checked his person for both badge and sidearm. "Your call, Boss." His subordinate said with a shrug. "Just make sure to update your will before you go." Amon rolled his eyes as he locked the door to his office after exiting, folders tucked under his left arm. "Don't you ever get tired of jinxing me?" Throwing a vague farewell wave over his shoulder, the Inspector flipped through the pages as he walked, weaving through the various desks, doors and passageways to the carpark. He came to an abrupt halt directly before the hood of his plain black sedan. Huh, both victims were employees of the same company. Chances this was a coincidence? Little to nil. So, first stop? The Gravette Publishing Company. It runs twenty-four seven, so he should be able to talk to some employees even at this time of the night. Sliding into the driver's seat, he tossed the files on the seat beside him and started the engine. No rest for the wicked, eh?