<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Just One Sip of Mystery</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tagging: Jacqueline</span></span></div><br/><br/>Officer Schmitt Felt a presence near by him, before he had to turn to look.  When the familiar voice of Inspector Blakesley revealed itself, he decided that turning was unnecessary, and he continued to look over the crime scene, nodding along with the Inspectors question about the status of the deceased.<br/><br/>The assertions she gave after that, had his eyes narrowing in on the scorch marks, his mind trying, unsuccessfully to make the same connections.<br/><br/>"How can you be sure of that?  I've never seen scorch marks like this, well at least not exactly like this."  He didn't say anything about her guess that the victim would be a streetwalker, it would probably surprise him more if the kid wasn't.<br/><br/>He thought of his own little brother, who was probably a year or two younger than this poor kid, and he thanked god that he had the parents he had; people who raised him and his brother well, and who had given him, and now his brother a safe place to live.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Just a Hint of Something Abnormal</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tagging: Austin</span></span></div><br/>The area the crime scene was located in was a rather dirty place, puddles of ambiguous looking liquid covered the ground, and pieces of trash littered the ground carelessly, whipping around as the wind blew by.  A ripped up piece of paper that had previously been plastered against the side of a dumpster broke free, and blew through the air.  It played about the bodies of cops, and even the Inspector Blakesley, before finally coming to a sudden stop against the toe of Officer Crawfords left shoe.  The piece of paper was a bit soggy, discolored, and was ripped in a haphazard way; but the name Charlie was clearly written in black ink, along with the time 8:05 am right below it.  The letters and numbers were hand written, and the hand writing itself was nothing really special to talk about.  What was different, was the slight burn mark on one corner of scrap of paper, clearly identifying it as something that should be bagged up and taken to the precinct.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em></em></span></span></div><br/>Meanwhile, on the other side of town, someone shimmered into a darkened room.  A dark figure of a tall man, with broad shoulders, and a neck thick enough to rival a normal sized womans thighs was revealed.  The figure moved, and than finally a click resounded through the room, and a table side lamp was illuminated, revealing the intimidating man, and the room itself to the artificial light.<br/><br/>The room looked like any other office, maybe a bit more bare, with only a few side tables, a bookshelf, a chair for guests, and a rather large dark stained oak desk with it's accommodating cushy chair behind it, turned so it's occupant was facing the wall behind it.  The dark colors of the furniture, combined with the low light from the lamp, created twisting shadows that stretched and melted into each other, creating the very picture of creepy.<br/><br/>The thick necked man sighed, and  moved over to the empty chair, his eyes staring straight ahead, and over the silhouette of the man in the chair, so he could look out over the city scape revealed through a large glass window.  A movement from the lounging figure caught the larger mans attention, and his eyes swiveled to attention.  A negligent hand raised, and played over the leather arm of the chair, before dropping back down again.  It was a full minute before the shadowed man spoke.<br/><br/>"The files on the desk, make sure you give the Witch all the relevant details, and nothing more."  Although this wasn't the first time such a meeting was being organized, and it wasn't the first time the thick necked man had heard this warning, he didn't say anything about it.<br/><br/>"I know I've said this before, but this cannot be connected to us, it's not yet time for us to step into the spotlight."  When the voice stopped talking, the thick necked man rose, and bowed.  A low, "Yes my Lord," was said, before he gathered up the folder and shimmered out from the room.  Leaving the seated man alone, once again.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>An Opportune meeting</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tagging: Bianca</span></span></div><br/>It was only moments after the clandestine meeting across town finished, when the large man shimmered into view outside Lou's Diner.  He shrugged into his coat, his shoulders sagging, and the lines around his face deepening, adding an extra layer of wear to his face.  As he moved into the small establishment and took the designated seat in the back of the place.<br/><br/>He'd be meeting up with a Phoenix Witch, someone with a reputation of getting her jobs done professionally, fast, and most importantly, quietly.  The fact that she had a well known connection to one of the Halliwell's added a bit of flavor to the situation.  But he was confident that things were still underwrap.  When they finally came out into the open, it would be too late for the connections to be made, and he'd have a chuckle over it when he was by himself.