[i]That's the thing, right? Your own death, that is not bad enough on its own. There's the whole question of the forensics afterwards, what people will make of it. It's weird to think that they'll stare at the scene of your death, look at the objects scattered around you, and get it all wrong, and get you wrong.[/i]
	
	"Damocles?"
	[i]This[/i] is what Detective James Damocles loved about [i]This American Life[/i]! It seemed like every episode he listened to was pulled directly from his own life! Damocles leaned back in the theatre seat in the darkness as a documentary on Jupiter played on the giant screen. 
	"Damocles."	
	But he wasn't paying attention to that. He as listening to [i]Ths American Life[/i] on the iPod he'd pulled from the dead body.
	Goofing around with evidence was the [i]fun[/i] part of being a sparkly, flashy detective solving ookie spooky mysteries. No one told you what to do.
	"Damocles, goddamit!"
	James fun was ruined by the abrupt snatching of the earbuds out of his ears.
	Molly Turner was standing over him. A woman of small frame and hair as fiery as her personality. Molly was a firecracker. Caramel eyes. Small nose and pale skin. She kinda reminded Damocles of a glass of milk. A really small glass of milk. Like a swallow of milk. But still just enough to dole out revenge if you were lactose intolerant. That just adds a whole new meaning to the word "mustard gas". Damocles would never drink milk again. 
	"Hey!" Damocles crossed his arms in feigned defeat but remained seated. "I was--"
	"I don't [i]care[/i] what you were doing!" she said. With blue gloved hands, she stuffed the iPod and earbuds into a plastic bag marked "Evidence". "Stop playing with evidence, you asshat!"
	James smiled. He'd always had a bright smile even as a child. James didn't exactly look like a detective. He sported a frohawk, had hazel eyes and wore a "Thundercats" hoodie underneath a grey peacoat, and red Chuck Taylors. He stood up from his seat and placed his hands on Molly's shoulders.
	"Are you okay, Molly?" he asked. "Do you need a hug?"
	"No" was her curt reply.
	"Are you sure?" he tilted his head to the side.
	"Damocles, I swear to God--"
	"I think you need a hug!" He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms tightly around her. For a few painstakingly awkward moments, Damocles held Molly's head to his chest.
	"See? Doesn't that make everything better?" he asked.
	"Damocles?" she replied. Her voice was slightly muffled by his hoodie.
	"Yeah?"
	"You know I hate you, right?"
	Damocles broke the hug off an smiled. "I know you mean love!"
	Molly rolled her eyes. In spite of herself, there was a small part of her that found Damocles to be...amusing to say the least. He was like a kid in the candy store for the most part, but he was a damn good detective. "Do you have like any spatial awareness? Any at all?"
	Without even looking around Damocles grinned, "It's the planetarium! [i]Duh![/i]"
	"Yeah! And you're three damn exhibits away from the crime scene!"
	Damocles nodded his head. He failed to see what her point was. Walking around helped him focus. It helped him think clearly. 
	Harlan Morgan was his name, poor bastard. Built like a doughnut hole and probably should have stopped eating them a long time ago. If turning to stone hadn't got him, the diabetes would have. Anyways. Harlan Morgan. Mid-thirties. Probably perpetually single. Still lives at home with his mom or has a cat or something. The security guard at the Field Museum of Natural History. Nothing too special about him. So why was he killed? Collateral damage. A simple psychometry spell showed Damocles that. The man in black glowing blue was the weird part. If you adjust the pitch and treble in a psychometry spell, you can hear any and everything. Even people's [i]true[/i] voices masked by magic. But this blue glowing guy? Who the hell was he? Easy. Motorcycle gang. "Long ride the Witch Knights." Weird thing was the Witch Knights were a [i]biker gang[/i] of spellcasters. They didn't get involved in the wizard gang war and usually kept to themselves. So why here? Why now? And what did this Medusa's head--

	"Damocles!"
	James snapped out of his thoughts.
	"Were you even listening to me?" Molly was turning a little bit red.
	"Wait, what?"
	Molly threw her hands in the air, "Why do I even bother!" she stormed off and made her way toward the exit.
	Molly was cool. Damocles liked Molly.
	"And by the way?" Molly looked over her shoulder back at the detective. "Your new partner is here."
	James' face lit up. "She is!" Ellen Lockhart. Damocles had heard some good things about her from his boss Captain Wolf Montgomery. She started out behind the desk and now she's out in the field. Didn't even become a beat cop. Straight from desk to detective. If Montgomery trusted her, then so did Damocles.
	James Damocles followed Molly out of the planetarium, excited to meet his new partner.

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	James jogged into the Greek mythology exhibit. He loved Greek mythology! Not because of the myths behind the gods, but because the Greek Pantheon was a group of travelling comic musicians! He'd been following them since they performed in rinky-dink performance halls back in New York. They going to be performing at the Voodoo Comedy House on Saturday. Maybe he'd invite Ellen!
	Ellen was examining the petrified security guard. The other officers and analysts kept their distance. The all seemed...afraid of her. Stone-faced. Dressed in all black. Service arm visible. And HUGE!
	James decided that he like her already. He grinned
	"Ellen!" he shouted halfway across the exhibit. Without hesitation he ran over to Ellen and threw his arms around her in a big hug. As soon as he did he was washed over in an almost overwhelming feeling. Magic. The magic inside of her was powerful. Was this why Montgomery paired the two together?
	"Damn skippy!" James let go of Ellen and smiled. "Where are my manners! Introductions! Call me Damocles. It rhymes with "3-Ds", "bee's knees", bleu cheese" and," he placed his fists on either side of his head, fingers pointing upwards. "I am the night. I am BATMAN-ese!" 
	He placed an arm on Ellen's shoulder and pointed at the petrified body. The face twisted in perpetual horror. "What do you think about [i]that[/i]?"