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The nod certainly was a surprise, and Piper stopped in her movements to digest it. It was clear Carver didn't appreciate her earlier comment, but he seemed to relax after despite the anxiety she was dealing with. She removed her hand from Chris' car to cross her arms, eyeing Carver again. The conditions were simple enough in her opinion: tell the guy what he wanted to hear and keep it between them. Still, there was an atmosphere about the man that left Piper uneasy. She was stubborn, though. While there was a small part of her that screamed to leave it alone--whatever it was--she remained insistent on finding answers.

"Fine by me," she agreed finally, not even considering the fact that this seemed to be moving along almost too smoothly. She wanted in, and she definitely had no interest in spreading rumors beyond the two before her.

"Thanks," she added half heartedly, before her gaze hardened at the sky above. "Hold up," she said, turning on her heel to quickly return to the office. There, she would retrieve her sunglasses, nearly knock herself over colliding with Jimmy Jr on the way out, offer some excuse and a half-assed apology for ditching work, and return to Chris and Carver. The lazy, rude, and apathetic Piper had a new energy: while the hangover left her a little sluggish, she suddenly seemed less so. "I can follow ya," she said, going for her bike.

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"Good."

Carver's reply came just as firm and set to whatever objective the man had in all of this. Palm slipping across the fogged surface of the door and letting himself out, he passed by Chris' car without any further acknowledgment. Chris didn't strike Carver as the sort who gave a damn about anything else other than cutting up animals or whatever the hell the man did. Personally, it rubbed him the wrong way; the sort of thing that kept him more on edge than he really should need be around some nowhere town called Jennings. Fortune would have it that Chris, in addition to having some "quirks" as it seemed, was also the sort who was quick to scrap. Whether the man knew how to actually fight or not only God knew, but the barely disguised mercenary nature of Carver didn't mesh well with the notion either way.

Approaching the battered door of his truck, he paused only to watch the slender woman slip her way between the few barriers in the office and appear out the door to her motorcycle. Whatever relationship the mechanic had with her management it seemed she might as well be getting away with murder. It mattered little though Carver noted, in that if anything it helped him out. This behavior seemed almost acceptable - hell, the other mechanics didn't even take notice or care, still too busy working on what few cars the shop itself actually had.

"I can follow ya."

Carver proved to look to Chris, standing behind the broad hood of the pickup. He could guess the man wasn't going to approve, but he made it clear anyway with his expression that Piper wasn't going anywhere for the moment at least. All he could hope for, as large a gamble as that was, was that Chris could figure it out on his own. He wasn't lacking precision, his work on the bodies proved that much, so the best would be that he was just as quick on the uptake. With that, Carver disappeared into the truck and shut the door with a loud metallic thud and the weathered camper rumbled to life.

Things were going well for the three as it was, no one having killed one another yet, but the sheriff's office might as well be a different story. Chris hadn't met Cutter, who while they shared assessments on it not being wolves, was the last and least rational person that he could possibly deal with; everything was made into some skeptical project. Pierce was a pushover, but that worked both ways. Chris, Cutter and Carver all said the same thing from different view points, but the sheriff said otherwise.

And someone? Someone out there was offering enough to keep the pressure on the office... for the better, at that.

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Somehow, that Piper girl weaseled her way in with this Carver, and even more miraculously; she was shirking work to come “assist” in whatever way possible. Honestly, her work ethic disgusted him. If you had no pride in what you were doing there was no point in doing it. Even Carver seemed dedicated to whatever role he’d chosen for himself.

Still, throughout the entire conversation, Chris remained silent and chose instead to get inside his vehicle and at least make sure it was still turning on. When the engine roared to life just as Piper took her motorcycle from out behind the shop, Chris was already beginning to get back on the road, and again he sighed as he headed back in the direction he came from instead of back to the city he called him and the office that he called his work space. His head ached ever so slightly from the previous conversation as one of the veins in his wrist popped out for a moment, but Chris was like an arrowhead. With a target chosen, he was going straight towards it and not stopping for everything.

He didn’t know this “Cutter” fellow. From the sounds of it he was some washed-up human being who stopped be a productive member of society a while ago. Add drunkenness to the profile… Chris didn’t like this guy already, and he hadn’t even met him at this point.

The narrow road spiraled past small, decrepit houses and the occasional local business. The town central needed a fresh coat of paint and some TLC for sure as it felt as though no one had thought of fixing things for years, or rather no one had the money to fix it. Maybe there was one brand-name store sitting around, but Chris was here to do one thing in specific, which is why he pulled back into the parking lot of the police station and took what was probably a few more minutes than he should have to park the vehicle. Piper pulled in beside him, with Carver on the opposite side, but Chris was a few steps ahead of the other too even if they caught up rather quickly. Chris didn’t like working with other people. Regardless of what they’d said or done for him, he still couldn’t trust them. He couldn’t trust anyone, really. Not when all these people were despicable and lazy.

You’re a monster, too…
a voice in his head murmured, but he pushed it away as he always did.

The station itself was tiny. A couple of chairs laid out to sit in at the front, next to an old, crochety desk at which one woman in uniform sat. Officer Trish was the junior officer around here, which wasn’t saying much because there were only two of them, but her face was angled and narrow and she seemed dedicated to protecting this hopeless state of decay they called a town. There was a bit of a cubicle divider in the back, as well a hallway of simple tiles that led back to their one holding cell. A coffee machine and a small box of breakfast pastries was sitting behind the reception desk, and, save for the hum of an air conditioning/heating unit, it was basically silent.

Officer Pierce was there to greet them. An older man whose hairline was receding. The paleness never seemed to leave his rotund features, and the incoming greyness that he tried to hide behind his cap was a marker that this man was probably only a couple years off of retiring. He was most likely hoping to drift through those last years without too much trouble.

Despicable.

“Oh, yer back!” He said surprised as he watched the trio pile in through the door, “Change your mind about the-uh, situation?”

“Pierce,” Chris sighed, “Your friend here suggested I come back and see the ‘victim’ one last time.”

He wasn’t fully aware of the context of his and Carver’s relationship and frankly; he didn’t care. What he did care about was setting things straight so he could go home.

His knuckles cracked as he pressed them under his thumbs.

“Well, if you think that will-“

“Shut up.” Chris snapped, causing Trish to step out of her chair. He ground his teeth and stared back at Pierce.

“Officer… I need to see it again, but you’re probably not going to like the conclusion I come to. Based on what Carver’s been telling me, you’ve been given a relatively similar conclusion from various different sources. Do you still have the pictures?”

The man grumbled and nodded, and after a few moments, he was waving them on through. Chris locked eyes with Carver for a moment as he consciously chose to ignore Piper’s presence as the group was led back into a small evidence room.

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Carver kept his distance through and through, but it showed here. He let Chris lead, as the man seemed prone to do, but it was only now that more evidence of the strange man betrayed itself to Piper, of all people. As she followed, gaining a strange look from the other deputy who was just a moment before busying herself with paperwork at her rundown desk. However, given the younger woman's company of the veterinarian and the drifter, there wasn't any apprehensiveness outside the look... and that's when she saw it; a distinctive silhouette hung briefly over Carver's hip at the inside of the waistband, concealed only by the man's shirt and jacket.

When he paused, coming to a slow halt, he observed the two's exchange and back to Deputy Trish, but in this slight motion there was the boxy frame of a handgun. Either the sheriff's deputies weren't aware or very much were, but either way it added only to the mystery. In a subtle motion, his hand brushed the overcoat aside and it vanished from sight, hidden once more.

"...but you’re probably not going to like the conclusion I come to. Based on what Carver’s been telling me, you’ve been given a relatively similar conclusion from various different sources. Do you still have the pictures?”

It was now the outsider looked back to the woman trailing him, motioning for her to follow with a faint gesture of his head. There was no delay with that, not even as the two men exchanged glares, and they proceeded into the evidence room. The older deputy, fumbling with his keys, paid no heed to the addition either, but things were going to turn far stranger yet... more uncomfortable, more unsettling.

The pictures Chris had been requested to take during his stints with the county were not pretty. They were a bit gruesome to say the least, the best description one could conjure up being similar to the attacks a rabid chimpanzee might inflict; the people weren't just beaten, clawed or bit to death, they were mauled. That's what made it so off - none of the dentition fit wolves, nothing had been eaten, there was less blood then there should've been and in all truth, it seemed to be something a person could do. But how? Barring that, why? Jennings had no real crime to speak of and the sheriff was away, the two deputies hadn't seen anything like it, and there was no precedence for it. The people were just outside at dusk, which came early this time of year, but that was neither here nor there by comparison.

The deputy kept his eyes away as it visibly didn't sit well with the man.

Carver meanwhile, proved to lay them out in a orderly manner that reflected how Chris had worked with them. For as mangled as they appeared, he hadn't much a reaction beyond the occasional hesitation and obvious efforts of psychological disassociation. The man, for what he was worth, did his best to continue not knowing whoever these people were. It made it easier when it wasn't personal, truth be told.

"Cutter went out for a bit, said he," The deputy said, keeping to himself in the corner and setting the keys to his hip but pausing momentarily mid sentence, " - said he'd be back later. Some time after when we got you all here and we gave him a call. That said uh, you might as well help yourself..."

The man deflected, fingers tracing the seam of his pant's pocket in visible discomfort. The tan and brown uniforms, as distinct as they were, just added to the effect that these officers weren't the police, let alone beat cops. Seeing people killed was one thing, seeing them savaged was another. They were archaic and almost out of another time previously with their widely brimmed campaign hats and penchant for gold colored affixtures to their uniforms. It was then Pierce gave an awkward, but attempted reassuring smile to Piper while skirting toward the door.

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Approaching the station, Piper rubbed at her temples; her head was clearing slowly but surely, and the fresh air seemed to have helped further. So when they entered the station, she hung her sunglasses at her shirt collar and looked around. She offered a snarky wave in the deputy's direction--she had spent a little too much time at the station when she first arrived to town and perhaps the deputy feared Piper was back again for who knows what. Though nothing seemed to be wrong, at least on Piper's fault, and she went back to work.

Piper's brows drew together as she eyed Carver's waist. Confrontation was her first instinct, and her jaw even dropped to begin, but she stopped herself with another glance at the woman at the desk. Then she glanced around at the rest of the small office: no one seemed to take notice, which was a good thing sure enough, but if this stranger was caught bringing a firearm into the station Piper did not need the trouble of associating with him. However, when she looked again, it seemed to almost disappear behind his cloak, and she allowed herself to relax.

“Shut up,” Chris snapped.

Piper's eyebrows raised, then her eyes narrowed in annoyance. Chris would yell at a police officer and Pierce would just take it. "Dick," she muttered under her breath, though she remained interested in the subject of pictures. They moved to the evidence room, and she found herself eyeing Carver again. The whole process--for Piper especially--had been oddly easy. She would have dwelled on it if it weren't the photographs laid out before the three.

"Holy shit," she said quietly, but she found herself grossly fascinated. Eyes wide and brows narrowed, she stared at the gruesome pictures, paling slightly. The deputy rattled off something about Cutter before leaving the trio alone. It wasn't until around this point that Piper was seeing the pictures for what they were: extremely detailed evidence. "A wolf couldn't fucking do that," she stated obviously. "The hell is going on?" Her hazel gaze remained on the photos, flickering between them rapidly at first, but then more slowly as she allowed herself to process them.

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Chris shot a sideways glance at Piper for a moment as he overheard the small quip, but he decided to make nothing of it. Whatever she said about him wasn’t important. Especially when her mouth seemed to shut once the pictures were lain out across the table.

Horror movie gore doesn’t compare to the real thing. Once you’ve seen someone eviscerated like the pictures of the victim on the table, there was no way any movie would ever compare to the levels of disgust thee pictures generated. It wasn’t a wolf. The claw marks dug deeper than the average for a feral wolf, and teeth that ripped that deep into skin couldn’t have done the damage of your average wild wolf, but at the same time the marks didn’t seem to match that of a bear, or another mammal that was prone to aggression.

Like a super-sized wolf emerged from the shadows and struck down their prey. Chris understood the sheriff’s skepticism. The fact the man had none of the knowledge he had when it came to animals allowed a little extra room for speculation, but he knew just by looking at these pictures that whatever “thing” killed the man that his own response was going to border on the level of absurdity.

He eyed Carver behind him. He saw them man’s gun peeking out from under his jacket. The man seemed just as intent on doing something about the situation, by whatever means necessary.

Chris’ hand clutched in a fist. God, he’d love for someone to step out of line right around now.

“Well, there it is,” Chris muttered, “There’s two ways we can do this: I can tell you what didn’t kill the victim we see in front of us, or I can give you some theories on what it might have been. One will leave room for your own guessing, and the other may throw my authenticity as a professional into the question.”

He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck as he stepped over to the other side of the table, “Either way, I don’t think anyone is going to like where this is going.”

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Piper's stunned remark did not go unnoticed by Carver, but the man's worked hands kept at their business until it was completed. With the last photograph placed, the man attentively brushed his hands clean against the fabric of his pants. It was a subconscious behavior, the sort of thing where one just felt unclean looking at these pictures.

"No, wolves don't."

Carver said nothing else, looking to Chris who followed up with as much as one could expect from him. Right to business, but at least in this environment that had a purpose. The man was unhinged, enough to threaten sheriff's deputies and threaten women who worked on his car, but whatever, his work ethic was what counted. Jennings didn't have that sort of expertise damn near anywhere else - other doctors and veterinarians were too uninitiated to it all.

“There’s two ways we can do this: I can tell you what didn’t kill the victim we see in front of us, or I can give you some theories on what it might have been. One will leave room for your own guessing, and the other may throw my authenticity as a professional into the question.”

"It's us here," Carver motioned among the small, quiet and mostly cramped old storage room, "Even if we did try to bring up to anyone questions of your ability, there's not a single person here credible enough to make that stick."

The other man kept right to the point, stepping around the table with a sigh and proving to scratch his neck. Stepping out the way, Carver's boots and placement came to a stop in the corner, folding his arms again and looking to the woman. Her expression still was a mixture of bizarre fascination and gruesome exposure. For her, there existed a subtle nagging, something uncannily familiar to all of this. It led to dark places, darker memories yet, but the entire ordeal just didn't sit right and the more she examined the photographs, the more that dug into her person.

"Either way, I don’t think anyone is going to like where this is going.” Chris said, receiving a nod out of Carver.

"Before Cutter finds his way here with whatever new conspiracy theory he's dug up out of his cave, give us your real opinion. We're all in agreement it's not wolves. It isn't rabid, bloodthirsty, mountain chimps either. I'm no expert on this, but I can tell you this isn't as much a mess as it should be."

His finger reaching out, he tapped one of the pictures in which one of the victims was found to have been bitten repeatedly, bathed in saliva and almost licked clean in messy, bloody streaks. The sort of imagery that suggested some sort of perverse fascination with the crime and its violence, like it was a rush. Two virtually identical killings offered up a pattern, too. An identity the killer had and a certain set of interests.

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“At risk of sounding absurd,” Chris sighed, “We can rule out any and all wildlife that could be expected to come around here. Larger than a wolf, yes, but the bite-marks aren’t the same shape as the mouth of a bear, which I could probably assume to be the largest animal that we’re going to encounter up here.”

Chris stared at the images once again. He had a thought. It pained him to even consider it based on its level of absurdity, but the famous Sherlock Holmes quote rung in his head. When you rule out the possible; whatever remains, no matter how plausible, must be the result.

“The problem with assuming that it’s a human is that this kind of wound could not be replicated with any tool that I’m aware of… And that leaves only the things that… should not be real.”

With those last words he picked up one of the images. Heavy gashes from apparent claws dragged across the chest mixed with those dreaded bite-marks once more. The image of a monster from television and movies sparked into his mind, parallel to those images that haunted him since that one night as a student. If one existed, it was probably safe to assume that the other existed as well.

He scanned his brain for a way he could state this that wouldn’t question his ability or his credentials. He was a professional after all.

He churned out these last words as he tried his best to keep a neutral face, “Either some kind of genetic experiment is happening up here, or we’re dealing with something supernatural in nature. Perhaps this… Cutter can explain more on the situation. At the end of the day, somehow that’s the only explanation that makes a lick of sense.

He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes for a second. God, was he tired, and frustrated. His anger was reaching the surface, and would probably break him before he could break anything else.

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Piper finally shook her head and looked away from the photos, crossing her arms to looked between the two other men. Her own imagination was running wild with every word they said, but the word wouldn't quite come out of her subconscious. She tapped her fingers against her own arm, anxious as they passed around maybes and what it could not be. She eyed the floor, suddenly interested with the scuff marks, and narrowed her gaze in thought. Men in black, a stake, her mother--

She may have dismissed the thought at any other time, but then Chris said it: supernatural.

Her eyes shot to him and she forced a laugh, and that word finally broke through the surface of her consciousness. "What, like fucking vampires?" she asked, her expression incredulous.

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It was one thing to suggest the unnatural, another to outright say it as though there was no easy way around it. What made it all worse was that, for all intents and purposes, at the moment it appeared that was the most "reasonable" conclusion. That notion did not sit well with Carver, even visibly so. The man switched his arms and the manner in which they were crossed as he let Chris do his job, giving the rest of his assessment; he wasn't one to interrupt, especially a volatile cocktail of emotional issues like that man radiated. Either way, the entire ambience of the evidence room seemed to change, as though everyone was equally shy and or ashamed of having thought or even said it aloud. It was absurd, plain and simple.

Carver gave another nod when Chris finished, but it was Piper who upped the ante. She seemed a bit off about the whole thing and her forced laugh made it more uncomfortable of a subject matter to focus on.

"What, like fucking vampires?"

"Regularly I would say you're out of your mind, talking about vampires, and trust me when I say I still think that's the craziest answer possible... but the issue I take more with it has to be the fact that it does appear that way." Carver spoke as plainly as ever, adjusting his darkly tinted glasses.

He kept a straight face through it all, the unsettling kind that lent some imagination that he thought this would be the outcome or worse. It could almost be more surprising he was so serious about this as well - as though he too might legitimately believe that's the answer. But he wasn't done yet, for as he finished with the sunglasses, he removed a small flipbook of notes from the buttoned pocket of his pants' thigh. Briefly he thumbed through it, not adding anything else, but came to a stop; there were pages worth of tiny scrawled notes. The handwriting was barely legible, but the point got across.

"Has anything like this ever happened before that either of you know of?" The man looked up from his notes, drawing a clipped pen from his forward pocket.

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Chris’ eyebrow rose as Piper spoke up. In all actuality, Chris was thinking of something more monstrous, but his own experiences didn’t betray him. He remembered that night, and the fact that his fists felt like they were hitting concrete each time they came into contact with that thing’s skin. He could still see the colour draining from that girl’s eyes, and the full sickness that overcame him after the beast fled.

The worst monsters were the one that could hide themselves behind human skin. Because humans were already monsters at the beginning. Chris was trying to pay attention, but each time he came into this room, he still couldn’t get over the pure savagery of the image in front of him. And worse, it reminded him of himself. The immense pleasure he received when he felt something snap beneath a man’s face, or just the blood that would drip down from their nose and intermingle with their tears… who’s to say this wouldn’t be the next step if Chris came into contact with that power. His body shuddered at the thought.

No, he was better than that. He had to be.

"Has anything like this ever happened before that either of you know of?"

Chris’ head shot up like a rocket and then tilted towards Carver. He quickly picked out the notepad sitting in the man’s hands, and the inquisitive look on his face. The thing seemed to be filled notes about… something, but then again, Carver hadn’t given too much away about himself than he seemed to be invested in this case for… reasons.

Maybe he was just a thrill seeker? Or an investigator? No, if he had one, he would’ve flashed some kind of badge by this point if he was a figure of significance. Not even his apparel seemed to give anything away.

Chris cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses for what was likely the hundredth time since they met, in an attempt to take an edge of this conversation, and pulled himself back to the moment.

“I’ve tried to remove the moment from my memory,” Chris spoke slowly, “but there was a time before where I ran into something that could not be explained by the rational world. It hardly matched this level of destruction, however. If that is the case, then this town’s in bigger trouble than I initially expected.”

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Piper's brows furrowed together; she didn't expect her exclamation to be taken even remotely seriously. Yet Carver pulled out some sort of journal and suddenly looked very academic. He had come off as perceptive, sure, but bookish? Then he asked if she or Chris had seen anything similar. She tensed, lips pursing and her eyes wandered over to Chris. He must have had the same question in his mind: just who was this guy? Though, to her surprise, Chris started speaking about his own experiences with the...unexplained.

Oddly enough, his slow speech calmed the younger woman. Was she not the only one? "Something that couldn't be explained?" she repeated quietly, wishing he wouldn't be so vague. Though she shook her head and crossed her arms, fingers shaking where they rested at her biceps. "Nothing like this," she said honestly as she worked out how to explain her experience. She eyed the floor, then the photos, then the floor again with another shake of her head. "When I was a kid...I saw someone who had been, like, staked in my hometown. They said it was some crazy suicide, but..." She shrugged. The story would be oddly mild considering the rigid tenseness in her muscles, but it lent evidence to the issue at hand: monsters were real and the three of them clearly had their own run ins.

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Carver's cold, disdainfully aloof reaction to both of them was the silent scribing of what appeared to be incoherent notes; a few visible acronyms, strange patternistic dialogue. Nothing worth trying to read at the moment as to who else short of the outsider could read it - if at all - was a perfectly valid question. He seemed to nod, keeping tabs on the way they phrased things, their demeanor; Chris' reaction provoked more interest initially, getting a bit more recorded, but it soon moved to the woman. She seemed to stumble uneasily through recollection, but not wrongfully in the slightest. They were discussing the strange, with the both of them before Carver holding an unusually common trend they might not have ever realized otherwise... in particular given their earlier interaction.

The pen came to a halt and the man behind the glasses looked to them both with the same blankness of a calculating machine. It was eerie, emotionless and vaguely hollow. His eyes couldn't be seen, but they could be felt just as much now as they had been before. The sort of feeling one might get when they're being looked deeper into than they would ever prefer.

"Seems there's an ongoing lack of rationality here." Carver's pen laid itself to the hand of notes while he spoke, crossed by his thumb.

Free hand adjusting the sunglasses under the fluorescent lighting that permeated the evidence room, Carver proved to look first at the other man then slowly back to the other company in the form of Piper. He said nothing for the moment, allowing the ambience to settle in - almost prying for more to be said. They seemed to add nothing, but he made no effort to press. Again he took the pen, added something else, then returned it by its clip to his pocket and the pad itself to the other.

"I don't like what you're suggesting, perhaps as much as you both don't for your own various reasons," He started before addressing the creases of his worn olive coat's sleeves, "But there's one more person I want to hear from."

The process of thought was self explanatory, but he kept it going as his fingers adjusted the jacket more at the intricate tattoos of the upper arms; the right bore a whirling darkness interwoven with a pantherine cat, the left displayed only the point of a larger blade flanked by olive boughs and broken arrows. When he finished, they almost disappeared again, yet he never ceased his conversation with them in the tiny, unsettlingly close environment to the grisly pictures and what they brought to the forefront of mind.

"I am going to ask you don't lead him. Can you do that?" Carver said, his posture relaxing.

There was too much left unsaid, too well was that taken, and too unsettling was it that these various qualities began to merge.

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Chris stared the man down for a moment. He watched the pen dance across the pad frenetically as he glanced occasionally back at the pictures on the table. One more person had to come in to confirm them, apparently, but Chris’ whole body seemed to tense up ever so slightly as he stared at his watch. He was missing so much time at work, already. In fact, he was kind of amazed that no one had called him. Even if he’d taken the day off, there was usually someone who needed some question.

Instead, he was getting the third degree from some guy with sunglasses and some other unsettling ink. Chris really had nothing against tattoos. What he did have an issue with was all this waiting around.

He steamed quietly to himself, choosing to put a little more distance between himself and the door. It felt like his brain was stained with the blood he’d seen, and the damage that had been done already.

And then his eyes moved to Piper. Based on what she’d stated, it seemed that perhaps there was a little more to her than just being a lazy mechanic with little to no motivation. Someone’s past could say a lot about someone’s behavior, but he was still a little frustrated with the girl that had caused him so many issues back at the garage. If she had been a few minutes quicker, there could’ve been a chance that he would be back at his practice on the other side of the city, prepping for some level of surgery.

Instead, he was in a room with a group of strangers, waiting on some old man to come in and give another opinion on the growing curiosity of this mysterious place.

“You do realize that some of us have some other schedules to keep, sir.” Chris grunted, eyes flat and stoic like concrete, “So I hope that you won’t be wasting any more of our time.”

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"That would make that unfortunate for you then." Carver issued his raking reply first and foremost, being aware enough of it to grant added emphasis about the impatient man and him alone.

"I think you would find yourself just caught up again in the events transpiring here. If not by me then by the sheriff's department I reason."

The ante was further upped by the insinuation, almost undoubtedly rightfully so, that things were to become worse rather than better. After all, these incidents had been days ago - nothing akin to them had followed recently. No major changes to the story had been provided, no new killings, no new evidence. It left everything on edge and awaiting on the cusp of disaster. If something did transpire, some other local of Jennings subject to whatever this exactly was, one could only imagine the level of paranoia and damage it could cause.

"That said, feel free to waste your own time." He said, gesturing toward the door with what appeared to be the freedom for the other man to depart.

Carver made no added effort to include Piper in the exchange; she was roped into whatever he was working on with these murders. Or at least as much as she could be without any sort of overt pressure added. The morbid curiosity and unsettling fear of the unknowing growing in the hearts of all present here and in the town itself would do the work. There was something at stake for them all, but for the young woman present? Answers - maybe.

Answers that if lost weren't likely to come around again.

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Piper shifted as she watched the pen move over the notepad. She would occasionally glance up at him or to Chris, waiting for something new to be done or said. Then Carver looked to the two and she tensed further, scowling at the intrusive gaze. Everything the man said and did seemed to carry weight and she continued to feel like she was missing something. Even at his comment, she found herself at a loss for words: vampires, dead vampires--none of it rang of rationality, he was right.

Carver spoke again, and her eyes naturally followed the movement of his hands. She had a few questions, but Chris had a complaint. It eased her tension, oddly, and she frowned at him as the two men exchanged words. Schedules to keep? she thought. "Are you that bored? Really?" she asked. She was incredulous to his apparent apathy when she had finally been torn out of hers--they were on a path to vampires of all things, and who knew what else.

"Whatever--who do you need to talk to?" she asked, eyes back on Carver. "Is it Cutter?"

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He stared incredulously at Carver as the man responded. The coy step to the side may have been a declaration of war in that moment, but Chris had to concede that this outdoors vagabond was probably right. Going home now would probably make no difference as he would inevitably be called back to deal with whatever situation he was drawn into.

"Are you that bored? Really?" Piper spoke up, his eyes glared over at the girl, unamused.

His stare became harder by the minute. His whole body was rigid, though it always appeared to have that same stiffness regardless of his position or situation.

“I see your point,” he said to Carver, still trying to keep his voice cool and level, though aggression bubbled through his blood like thick tar. Keeping his exterior expression cool was a skill he’d learned over time, when it came to his interactions with the law and other people that knew of his… stiffness.

Then he turned to Piper as he stretched his hands, trying to move them away from their usual clenched fist.

“My interest matters little in this situation,” he stated. His voice was dry, empty, unlike their first encounter when all he could express was his rage.

“I only care about my job, and doing my job properly. While I understand that my specialty would become beneficial in this situation, I’m struggling to understand how I can assist further. I’ve already stated that this attack was not by any animal that the rational world understands. But I suppose if I’m just going to be called away from my practice again to give another analysis with similar results, then I suppose I’ll stay until the… gentlemen… here get the idea and tell me to take my leave.”

He sighed quietly after his brief explanation, but then he turned to Carver. The man was growing in suspicion since he was asked to come here. In some cases, Chris started to feel as though he was dragged here on false pretenses.

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"Is it Cutter?" Piper asked, her investment still visibly invested in the subject as her frown eased and her attention drew back to Carver rather than the other man who seethed beneath the surface.

"The man might be otherwise useless and full of bunk from everything I've heard of him, but in this case he might be of use to the investigation." Carver's answer came plainly said as anything else he had to offer, looking over the woman while Chris tore at her with his unamused stare.

Chris reaffirmed his stance, rightfully so it was not his business to be invested in, that much would regularly be true but Carver's aloofness to it did not make the two anymore friendly. The outsider listened however, proving to nod as he did while the man spoke in a hollow, empty manner. It was only after, as Chris sighed, Carver's brow piqued in curiosity and it was clear he was cautiously aware of the unstable veterinarian. The vibes the de facto coroner gave off were present even when nothing was being said - just his presence was enough. If he had the time and means, he would've provided Piper the perhaps already too obvious warning the man was a hair trigger.

"Then as someone who does seem to try to seat themselves in the rationality of their work, I would think the notion you might be involved in something stranger would be of interest to you." Carver's rebuttal did not end there however, "Maybe in particular because you have a previously mentioned encounter in this sort of unusual."

"If it is as you both," He gestured to both Piper then Chris with an open hand from one to the other, "Have stated you believe it to be, perhaps you can put your frustrations to use."

Carver's hands placed themselves to his waist at his rigger's belt; there was more he had to say, but just as he had before he held his tongue. He played a dangerous game, toeing the line repeatedly with Chris who admitted would rather not recall or spend any more thought upon the matter. The man was probably a danger if cornered conversationally or emotionally, the sort who'd come to blows if pressured to hard, but Carver did not seem anymore uneasy than he should. If anything the outsider seemed more interested in pulling him in - Piper alone as the outside observer could see that much. Her own involvement and even the chance to do something with it lent her that much insight without any effort; what was his game - what could he gain from this?

The claustrophobic evidence room was uneasily quiet for a moment, but Carver pressed the situation either way, taking one of the photographs and looking it over before his attention moved to Piper.

"If you are right... and Cutter agrees that you are, what do you intend to do?" He said, holding the image further away from him only to then lay it face down upon the table; worked fingers still resting on it.

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”What will you do?

The words resonated as though the room was a cave. Chris’ stare stuck on Carver with narrow eyes as a sequence of struggles pulsed through his mind. There was no doubt that whatever had done this was something wicked, vile. Something that needed to be purged from this world. It also needed to be stated, however, that the last time that Chris encountered something of this likelihood, his fists were little use against it.

But his rage.

Like most of his life, his anger and aggression was always something that snuck its way into the woodworks of his mental palace. His world was one of sharp, firm edges, with little give, and the only solution on occasion was driving his fists through it. It took years of practice to place any sort of self-control over himself, knowing just the pleasure that waited on the other side, and while his job was still pressing, still very important… whatever did this needed to be brought to justice. Everything had a weakness, and while weapons were not necessarily his preference, perhaps it was time to seek the next level against unknowable evils. That was just how it was going to be, in the end. So he stepped away from the pictures, firmed up his shoulders and fixed his shirt, re-adjusting the tie around his neck and double-checking his glasses just to make sure that everything was in order, and that he was of solid mind, and body.

Solid mind, he smirked. There was something funny about the statement.

“If… and only if what I’ve said holds some merit, then I suppose… that I would have to assure that the task was completed.” He said firmly, “So I would expect to stay until I knew that the job was done. Now, when you mention putting our ‘frustrations to use’, what exactly were you expecting?”

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Piper scowled at Chris as he spoke. Everything he said and did and the way he did all of it annoyed her the more time she spent around him. So she was happy to give Carver her attention instead as he spoke. Both men were intense: the aura of irritation that surrounded Chris was palpable and Carver radiated ominousness. The vagueness of his words only added to that, and Piper's brows furrowed together as she continued to watch the two men. Carver seemed intent on pulling Chris even further into this investigation, and she realized she was pretty much already there. Her scowl remained but she watched Carver now, curious.

Her eyes followed as he picked up the picture, to which she shifted uncomfortably and they dropped. And then he posed the question: what did she intend to do? She drew in a breath, fingers raising to play with the zipper of her plain jumpsuit. There was a lot of places she was hoping this whole thing would take her: which vampire turned her mother, which slayer staked her, are either alive, would she want to let them live? The questions she had her whole life suddenly seemed solvable if she put in the effort. But what would that be? How could she vocalize it?

"Well we can't let this...keep happening," she said, insistent on keeping her most personal motivations to herself. "I want to stop it. Whatever 'it' is." How she or they would seemed like another question to tackle, and the thought had her narrowing her gaze at Carver. "What are you going to do? What's your plan in all this?"

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