<div class="floatleft">(http://cache.daylife.com/imageserve/0h1f96QfeA6Nj/610x.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Honey Biene<br/><strong>Occupation:</strong>Detective<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Her apartment<br/><strong>Date:</strong>February 26th, 2052,  03:00<br/><hr/><br/>Waking up tangled in her sheets with her heart racing was becoming almost routine for Honey. Something about this case was causing her to have dreams about her quarry.  That in of itself wasn't unusual - Detective Biene had a reputation of being a hound dog when she was on a case, and dreaming about her work was normal for her.  But the dreams she had been having of late were disturbing.  And frequent.  Almost every night since she was assigned to this damn case.<br/><br/>She untangled her legs from her bedding and padded to the bathroom.  Despite the fact that it was barely 3am, there'd be no more sleep tonight, she knew, and the toll of her insomnia was beginning to show in her face.  Her natural tan couldn't hide the dark circles around her eyes, which themselves were dulled by weariness.  Her short hair was damp with sweat and plastered to her head.  Honey stared at herself in the mirror and wondered when she'd started looking older than her thirty three years.  This case was obviously affecting her more than she'd like to admit.<br/><br/>After throwing some water on her face and pulling on a pair of sweat pants and a tank top, Honey headed for the living area.  She paused long enough to put the coffee on to brew before once again opening a plain manila folder and spreading the contents across her kitchen table.  Among the papers were an assortment of photo's, paper clippings, and police reports, all containing information about what she referred to as The Cult.  She still had no idea what the actual name of the sect was. They'd somehow managed to fly under the radar of Homeland Security, and it was only that Honey had noticed a vague similarity between a number of seemingly unconnected murders that had brought the existence of The Cult to light.<br/><br/>Separating the photo's from the papers, her dark eyes probed each one in turn, looking for some clue she may have missed.  Unfortunately each image was grainy, having been taken from a distance and enlarged.  The subject of each was the leader of The Cult - the Tattooed Man - so named for the ink that adorned every part of his body. Even his bald head was completely covered by images of serpents and other, more sinister looking creatures.  His eyes were very pale, almost white, and his teeth were all filed to points.  Not that those details could be seen clearly in the pictures in front of her, but included in the police reports was a detailed description of him, which Honey had committed to memory.<br/><br/>How he had managed to accumulate so many followers, Honey didn't know.  But rumour had it that induction into The Cult involved voluntarily offering up one's children to be "hosts for the spawn of the coming messiah", or some such nonsense.  Never in her career had Honey been so determined to catch a bad guy.  This one had to be found, and stopped, before he could start hurting the children. And Honey wanted to be the one to stop him.<br/>