His alarm emitted an odious beeping, and he knew if he didn't turn it off, it would continue for twenty minutes. Even Manny didn't have the patience and overt laziness to wait that out, and so he opened his eyes slightly, gazing around his cramped apartment without moving a muscle. Years spent hunting things most people didn't believe in gave one a healthy paranoia. Anything sifting through a room wouldn't have been able to tell he was awake. The detective had learned never to groan or even breathe differently once he awoke. It had freaked out more than one woman, he recalled with a snort of amusement. 

As soon as he had moved here, he knew it would be a bit less roomy than his last place. Apartment sizes were often larger with numbers, and they got progressively smaller the more reliant on letters they were. Apartment A's were usually shitty basement apartments, private restroom optional. When he was sure that no one was in here with him, he leaped out of the bed. 

He scratched his unkempt hair and finally let himself groan, using his free hand to turn the TV on. His big toe touched the power button to his retro Xbox 360, and suddenly it zoomed onto the screen. He clicked 3 buttons, and his playlist came on. His music, loud and full of drums and bass, suddenly popped up, and he headed towards the bathroom, passing by one of his noir posters. His shower was quick, and luckily it didn't seem to be full of iron tasting water this time. Must be his birthday. 

He put on his pants, and buttoned up his shirt before he took a look outside. Two white males working. He recognized them from his daily scope outs. Not hard to figure out. One seemed to have a significant other, the lankier one. He had the distinct feeling the lankier one was a cultist of some sort. The sulphur in the dumpster he frequented was a fair clue, as was the 'new age' books of wiccan spells he'd seen through the window. Nothing he couldn't handle. He'd check later, but for now, business called. 

He put his effects in his pockets. He checked to see his pistol was full, and placed it into easy reach on his person, grip poking into the small of his back from within his shirt. His switch blade was in his sock. "Time to start trouble." he said to himself, opening the door and sliding out. He needed food, and decided he'd go out and get some early breakfast before heading to work.

He walked into the office with an egg and cheese bagel, and some orange juice in a cup. Paid to be healthy in his line of work, he told himself. He didn't speak to anyone he passed, just waving to whoever noticed him before he entered his office, breathing a sigh of relief once he sat down, retrieving his copy of 'A Thousand Horrors' and turning to page 769 to golems. Word had it a stone statue twenty miles up the road had killed a janitor. He wondered just how possible that was. 

It paid to be nosy too.