The bar was cold, sitting down Amon looked up to the bar tender who he knew by name. Jim Deromeo, he asked for the regular. A mix of gin and rum, it tasted nasty but he swallowed it without much forceful prodding. It was a taste he had known time and time again, it didn't take him long to get lost in it all. He could hold his liqour and he did so well, but half way through his pity trip he got a message. Not the one that you would want to get on a bender, but an important one. He looked at it, a timing. The police station, Amon grumbled quickly paying the bartender as he got up and started to wake outside. He bumped into a man, the looks on his face was horror when he realized he had bumped into Amon.

He quickended his pace, he didn't want to know if the man knew him or anything about him. His mind was in a small haze, he coulden't stop thinking about that night. Her blood was everywhere, there was nothing he could do - the shot was fatal. She died in his arms as he heard the sirens aired out through the dead night. He did what he had to do, they coulden't know. When they came upon the scene, her head was a pulpy mess, no one would be able to tell the difference - right? Except, maybe that forensics tech, Carver St. Laurent. His drunken thoughts were stopped by a hobo across the PD. 

The look on the man wasen't normal, something was off. He looked like he wasen't suppose to be there, like a hard thug in a sheeps clothing or something. He walked up to the man, Amon was towering as he kicked the man's foot. Looking down at the hobo. [i]"Hey, you thug I think it's time for you to get out of here"[/i] He said with some anger, as he lookd over the man. He could sense the danger coming from the man's very aura. It wasen't going to end well.