[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/552541122153414703/975084088304222258/strange.png[/img]
[b][right]3854 Hoffman Avenue - NYC // 2245HRS[/right][/b]

Rain poured down from the heavens creating rivers from the sidewalk onto the road. Cars rushed by, oblivious to the man standing in the alley. The rain seemed reluctant to land on him, or perhaps it was convinced to not have an effect on him. The man's cloak appeared to billow off its own accord, tugging on him slightly to alert him to another individual approaching, their footsteps muffled by the rain. [color=orange]"I appreciate you calling me in on this Detective Kraye."[/color]

The man shrugged. "If the F.B.I wants to be brought in on this and save me a pile of paperwork be my guest. I already have a bunch of cases on my desk." He raised his travel mug and took a sip of coffee. Sighing in relief as the warm bitter liquid did its magic. Raising an eyebrow he looked back at the man standing looking over the body. "Picked a bad day to forget your coat, want me to grab you one? You're soaked through." 

His face hidden in shadow Strange smiled slightly as he absent-mindedly fondled the glittering charm hanging from his neck, disguising his true appearance. [color=orange]"Nothing a warm shower won't fix. I'll be fine thankyou, the case comes first."[/color]

Detective Kraye pulled his phone out his pocket with nothing more than a muttered '[i]well okay then[/i]' "Vics name is-" -tt-tt-tt- Kraye clicked his tongue as he scrolled down through his file. "-Alfred Rask, 45 out of Brooklyn. Unmarried, no kids. No listed address." Kraye knelt down, looking over the body. Tattered robes lay strewn all around the body, bloody and torn. "Going from his clothes I'd say unemployed, a drifter. Hippy probably."

[color=orange]"-And in your profession do you happen to guess when it comes to life and guess?"[/color] The detective turned, a look of scorn on his face. 

"I might not be a [i]Special Agent[/i] but I've seen my fair share of victims, and my fair share of murders. I've seen it all."

Stephen Strange leaned down, making a show of patting down the body. During which his right hand rubbed a symbol from the victim's wrist. [color=orange]"Well I think I have all I need here."[/color] Standing up he turned to walk away, Kraye turned. 

"What, that's it? You don't need no photos or sketch? Or the [I]body?[/i] Are you even taking the case?"

Strange smirked as he put his hands out in front of him, sparks flew between his fingers as if he were playing with sprinklers. [color=orange]"Don't be ridiculous Detective. There is no body, and there is no case."[/color]

There was a blinding flash of light, as Kraye looked up at the sky swearing. The thunderstorm had come on all of a sudden, and he was caught out here on foot patrol without so much as a jacket.

[hr]

[b][right]177A Bleecker Street - NYC // 2300HRS[/right][/b]

Stephen Strange was surrounded by books and incantations, in the centre of his study surrounded by all the chaos was a symbol hastily drawn on a piece o paper. The same symbol that had been on the dead body of Alfred Rask. The police would never find out his cause of death. It would be ruled a murder, then once all the leads went cold the case would be forgotten about and abandoned. One of many within the NYPDs archives. Stephen had combed through their cold cases on occasion shortly after becoming Sorcerer Supreme, and had solved a few. It was surprising how many leads went cold without magical intervention. 

He couldn't afford the time for that anymore, it took all of his time and focus to maintain the secrecy of their society from the world, keep the various Sanctums united and to protect the world from other dimensional threats. Even this murder wouldn't have been one he'd have usually bothered with, not anymore, if not for the fact that this was the fifth death in five days that bore the same symbol and the same aura of darkness. Magicians, like artists, quite often liked to 'sign' their work. Someone was doing this now, he just had to put a Sorcerer to the signature and that was the issue he was having. If he could only decipher this one-

[b][I]Knock-Knock-Knock[/i][/b]

Stephen groaned, waving his hand the door opened revealing his trusty assistant Wong. The only one who would ever interrupt him in the middle of his work, and by the sounds of fine china being carried on a tray the only one who would bring him tea. Stephen brought his hands down to his side, the books that were floating around the room lowered themselves to the floor. As he lowered his hands toward the ground his torso raised into the air, allowing him to unfold his legs from their crossed position.

[color=f7976a]"You would do well not to neglect your duties Stephen."[/color]

Stephen walked over, and accepted a poured cup of tea. Sipping it gently. Tea was good for the aura. Or so Ahri'ahn had claimed. [color=orange]"The benefit of being the Sorcerer Supreme is that I can pick and choose what I work on, is it not? It kind of makes me in charge."[/color]

Wong shook his head. [color=f7976a]"At times you remain arrogant. There are people in this sanctum whose entire purpose is to investigate breaches in the occult. Leave this to them."[/color]

[color=orange]"Five deaths so far, and not a single lead, and yet each body is signed. I have made this my responsibility-"[/color]

[color=f7976a]"-and in doing so you are neglecting the Master of the Chinese and Japanese Sanctums who have come to seek the counsel of the Sorcerer Supreme."[/color]

[color=orange]"You could always-"[/color]

[color=f7976a]"No. There is tradition, it must be you. Five minutes. They'll be expecting you."[/color]