<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The coffee maker beeped noisily at her, signaling that the coffee was ready. The scent of the freshly brewed coffee filled the first floor, bringing some comfort to the detective as she stood over a rustic, wooden table. The surface was covered completely in outdated files. From an outside perspective, one would only see chaos and clutter. To Anya, the placement of each file made sense and everything was woven like a web together. A few broken strings here and there...But where was the fun in having all the answers from the get-go? Granted, Anya wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Honestly, her brain needed something to do otherwise the already growing panic attack that was nestled in her stomach would get progressively worse. The brunette began to rummage through a box with “Mastermind” scribbled in sharpie on the side with a pair of devil horns over the word. A lovely contribution by Skylar Marsh. Here, she had kept all of the old cases that involved the Mastermind aka Belial her psychotic childhood friend. In the kitchen, the coffee maker lets out another annoying beep, not appreciated being ignored.<br/>
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That was when she heard a scream outside her door and she knew that sound very well. The last time Anya heard that scream was when the Mastermind had her team cornered in Warehouse 23, located on Crestone Prier. For a moment, panic set in. Was Sonya hurt? Would he strike so soon with the amount of law enforcement after him? The answer was yes. He was confident in his work. And while they did apprehend him once, that was by sheer luck and Anya’s quick thinking. She had got him thinking about their past, reminiscing about their friendship long enough for the police to arrive. Anya had doubts that the tactic would work should they come face to face again.<br/>
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“Sonya!” Anya yelled, racing towards the door. Because she was slightly panicked, it took her a couple tries at the door only for her to realize she had locked it. Cursing to herself, she undid the lock and wrenched the damn thing open. The moment the door swung back at her, something fell through and she jumped back in surprised, handgun already out and pointed at the object. Much to her surprise, it was a body of Officer Richard Hart. If her memory served her well, he had been one of the first officers on the confrontation scene. He saved them from any further harm, something that Anya would never forget.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Ah, fuck,” she whispered, holstering her weapon and kneeling down, reaching into her back pocket to grab her gloves. Yes, she did keep latex gloves on her for situations exactly like this. Despite disagreeing with CTPD’s methods, she did respect them and did her very best not to screw up the crime scene. Jaime Marshall, the medical examiner of CTPD, was someone she actually liked. Slipping them on, she glanced up at the horrified Sonya. “Call this into CTPD. Do not step in the blood puddle. Marshall will murder me if I disrupt his crime scene.”</span><br/><br/><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Anya glanced down at the body, the wheels already turning in her head. Her pale green eyes flickered over to the note that had fluttered out of the man’s lap. She bit her lip hard, seeing that it was, in fact, Belial’s handwriting. The brunette observed the gathering crowd, her eyes searching for his familiar face. Not seeing one, she gingerly reached over, opening the folded note. </span>