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 Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)

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PostSubject: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 5th 2017, 6:02 pm

Face of A Killer
Cast of Characters
Salemtown Homicide Detective Amanda Knight
Salemtown Homicide Detective Xavier Riviera
Salemtown Sketch Artist Detective Robert Wren
~~~~~~

Amanda scratched at her scalp with both hands, her short but sharp nails giving her a brief, heavily needed massage. It felt good to let her hair down after a long, grueling day testifying in court. She had returned home and bee-lined for the bathroom of her spacious two bedroom cabin that was well away from civilization. Now, she was currently standing in the shower, letting the hot water poud away the tension in her neck and shoulders. A glass of Pinot Noir rested on the wide lip of the sink. She would have preferred taking a bath, but she was on call and there wasn't enough time to indulge.

After a few moments of a scalp massage, she tilted her head back beneath the spray of water to rinse out the patchouli scented shampoo. When she resurfaced, her phone was ringing. Cursing softly, she turned off the shower and grabbed the towel off of the top of the toilet, drying her hands before daring to reach for the slim smartphone. She answered it with a swipe of her thumb.

"Riviera, can't a girl come home and grab a shower to get the stench of lawyers off without you calling to harass her?" She asked in lieu of a greeting to her partner. Like her, Xavier Riviera was a Detective for the Salemtown's Homicide division.

"The Captain asked me to call you. He arranged an emergency briefing. Something about forming a tast force to catch this son of a bitch." The voice on the other end was undoubtedly male with a noticable French accent. Their current case, or cases, seemed to revolve around a serial killer that was removing the faces from his victims both male and female. Apparently he was keeping them as trophies.

"Is the Captain bringing Wren in? I know he was talking about having him look over some of the crime scene photos, perhaps see if he could put a face to some of the victims." She expertly wrapped her long dark hair in a towel as she set the call on speaker phone. She dried off with another towel before propping a leg on the lip of the tub to smear vanilla scented lotion on her freshly shaved skin.

Police sketch artist Detective Robert Wren was their best shot at IDing their bodies. He specialized in not just sketching, but the state of the art 3D programs.

"That's the plan, though Wren isn't exactly easy to talk to. He sort of gives me the creeps."

Amanda's brow frowned. She could almost hear the sneer in her partners voice.

"Wren is brilliant."

"He's-"

"Don't even say it, Riviera. She warned, her voice nearly as cold as ice. "He's not an asshole. He just doesn't like to be around people. He's introverted, not stuck up."

"Easy, Knight. I wasn't even going to make that comment. You're very defensive of him."

She gave a soft sigh, shifting to smear lotion on her other leg.

"He reminds me of Jared."

Though they had been partners for nearly three years, he knew next to nothing about her except that she once had a fiance, Jared King who had been killed. Amanda Knight was very private about her past and her personal life.

"What time is the briefing?" She inquired, quickly changing the subject.

"You've got about an hour."

"See you in half that." She ended the call before her partner could say anything else.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 13th 2017, 5:57 pm

The new black Ford F150 Raptor pulled into the lot of the Salemtown PD, rumbling past a few cruisers that were sitting idle awaiting their drivers. The Flomaster exhaust made the truck almost purr with a deep rumble. Amanda pulled it into an empty spot before killing the throaty engine and dropping down from the cab. Being only five foot one, she could barely see into the drivers window of her truck. Pocketing the keys into the back of her jeans, she nodded a hello to one of the boys in blue as he drive by in his cruiser. He gave a nod back and left.

It was just barely 4pm and the station was bustling with life. A drunk and disorderly incoherently babbling to an empty wall as a rowdy thug attempted to struggle in the officers grasp as they escorted him to a holding cell. One of the charming individuals cuffed to the bench started waggling his tongue crudely at her as she passed by.

If you want to keep that tongue in tact to use it another day, I suggest you put it back in your mouth where it belongs.” She said to him, without so much as a glance in his direction. She was buzzed through the doors by Lucy who worked dispatch and was surpressing a giggle. Apparently, she had heard Amanda’s comment. She moved along the short hall and into the bullpen that was Homicide. Her second home. She probably spent more time here than anywhere else.

“Knight.”

She glanced towards the sound of her name and noticed Riviera perched on the edge of her desk, looking dangerously sexy as he held out a small Styrofoam cup of steaming black coffee. She took a sip of the brew waiting inside once she took it from him and sighed. Heaven.

“I dont know how you can drink that shit black.

Amanda snorted.

I'm sweet enough so I dont need the massive amounts of sugar that you obviously need."

“Fuck you, Knight."

Only in your dreams, Riviera."

She was rewarded when her partner nearly snorted overly sweet coffee out his nose.

His expression turned serious.

“What are you doing later tonight?

She glanced at the clock behind his head.

It's already 4pm. Its already night."

“Ha, ha."

She grinned.

“I'm being serious, Knight."

She arched a brow.

Um, nothing that I know of. Why?"

“Want to go to dinner with me?"

Are you asking me out on a date, Riviera?"

He grinned charmingly.

“Yes."

What happened with Whats Her Name from Records?"

Riviera grimaced.

“Nicole. She wanted to move in with me after a week."

Amanda snorted.

Jesus, Riviera. What do you have, a golden-"

“Riviera! Knight! Conference room C. The Captain bellowed from his office and she was saved from having to give her partner an answer. They gathered their files and moved into the conference room. For nearly a year now, Riviera had been attempting to get her to go out with him, and every time he asked, she refused. He wasn't a bad guy. She liked him, but there was always something holding her back from simply saying yes, and that something walked into the conference room.

Her eyes immediately fixated on his face. Short, messy hair, a worn black leather jacket. Stubble dotted his chin and above his lip, giving him a scruffy look. His lower lip was fuller than the top, giving him a sexy perpetual pout. Around his neck, he wore a thick silver chain with a small pad lock resting at the hollow of his throat. His blue eyes had captivated her as they did every time she saw him, even if it was only in passing. They robbed the breath from her lungs and stilled her heart. It would seem that she had caught his attention as well, because he stood, framed in the doorway, staring at her which was something he never really did to anyone. Was it because she had her hair down for once and not scooped back into a tight bun? Had he never really noticed her before?

Amanda knew she wasn't gorgeous, but she wasn't exactly Plain Jane either. Her long, dark brown hair was full, thick and now that it was dry, wild. Her dark brows were perfectly black arches over bedroom shaped, chocolate brown eyes. Her lips were full and constantly drawn into a genuine, infectious smile.

Its good to see you again, Detective Wren." She said, finally breaking the spell he had over her.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 14th 2017, 9:49 am

He'd been pouring over files, photographs, statements and notes on the past 3 cases involving the removal of the victim's faces for the past few hours, and was almost in a daze before he came rolling along like a machine from his office.  He mulled the idea of how much he hated speaking to groups of people as he approached the doorway to conference room C, and looked up just as he entered the threshold to see Detective Knight and Detective Riviera among a room nearly filled with other Salemtown PD Homicide Detectives and a few uniforms.

For the first time in quite a while, his train of thought skipped out of his grasp, and he found himself standing there in a pretty rigid stance, just staring at her for a few seconds.

He didn't work with Knight that often, she and Riviera had a pretty impressive closure rate, and closed their cases in a usually timely fashion, so bringing Wren in to their cases didn't happen often, and he was usually handed work from one or the other without much talk happening.  In truth, though, he had the opportunity to work with almost every officer and detective in the department just as often as any other.

He had experience as a beat cop, once upon a time, but took an alternate route after 2 years and went back to school.  When he came back in another unusually short 3 years, he was greeted as a Detective and sketch artist of the Salemtown Police Department.  He was their best sketch artist and was technically experienced as well, having abnormally precise skills using 3-D reconstructive modeling programs.  A virtual version of his abilities that was further assisted and enhanced by state-of-the-art computer programming.  And it is because of this expertise that the Captain called him in on these cases, which was now 'this case,' a serial killing spree.

His little vacation from his better mind ended when she noticed him and looked up to meet his gaze.  He was just cold and quick enough to catch himself before he reacted nervously at her notice of his look, and didn't break eye contact.  

"It's good to see you again, Detective Wren."

Knight said after a pause between the two of them.

"You too, Knight.  You the first on scene of the last vic'?"

He asked, pulling a toothpick out of the pocket of his jacket and sliding it into the left corner of his mouth.

"What, no love for the rest of us, Wren?"

Riviera interrupted.

"Not really."

Wren shrugged, still looking at Knight.  He tilted his head up in something of a nod briefly at Knight, but didn't say anything.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 14th 2017, 3:29 pm

Amanda felt a single corner of her mouth quirk up at Wren's off-handed remark to her partner. She couldn't help it. It amused the hell out of her. She felt Riviera give her a nasty glare, but she shrugged it off and answered the other Detective's question.

"Yes, I was first on scene. For all of them actually." Her dark eyes seemed to unfocus as the memory of the first time she had stepped on scene flashed in her mind.

The smell was what hit her first. Once you have smelt death, it is a scent that sticks with you and doesn't let go. No matter how many times she smelt it in the past five years on Homicide, it still made her eyes water.

"This is a bad one, Knight."

Her brow frowned. "How bad, Ramier?"

The veteran detective shook his head faintly, wiping his glasses on his rumpled shirt. "Worst I've seen." And for this twenty year man, that was certainly something coming from him.

Though she had been warned a head of time, it still took her a moment to focus. Blood and meat. Tissue, muscle and bone. It was a mess. She crouched down, fresh gloves coating her hands. She had to get a better look.


She refocused, her brow frowning just as it had that day. "You have questions?" She asked Wren. She knew that she would more than likely be working as close with him as she could. She had seen the victims first hand. Amanda had a knack for detail, almost border line photographic memory. Her Captain called it her "gift". Others just called it luck. Riviera wouldn't like being partially replaced, but she had asked the Captain to put Wren on this one, even if he had wanted to go at this solo.

She smiled again, tapping the side of her right temple with her index finger. "Any detail you need no matter how small is up here. Just ask."

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 15th 2017, 2:37 pm

Wren watched with peaking interest while her eyes dilated after she confirmed his guess that she was who he was going to be assigned to be partners with until the end of this case, and Knight faded away into the background of her own mind for a moment.  Despite an urge to, Wren did not disturb the moment of recollection, he wanted it to surface, and knew that that was what she was experiencing.

When the Captain told him that he was going to be put on this case, Wren requested to be paired with whichever detective was first on the scene when the latest female victim was found.  He guessed that it had been Knight, despite not having had time to actually pay strong attention to minor details like that in the reports and photographs he'd received, simply based on her and Riviera's knack for landing strong cases and finding good leads.  They really were a very accomplished team.

Knight's pupils slowly contracted and she focused in on his face again before she continued on almost like she hadn't missed a step.  

"You have questions?"

She asked before she smiled again, tapping the side of her right temple with her index finger.

"Any detail you need no matter how small is up here. Just ask."

His right eyebrow perked up in a graceful arc while he bit down on the toothpick between his right molars.

"Not yet...but I will soon.  Cap's gonna have something to say about the vic' when he's off the phone, and he's going to assign you and I to this case."

Wren droned out in what most might consider monotone.

"The hell he will, Wren!  This is our case.  We landed it, and Knight and I are leading it."[/color]

Riviera snapped at him, sounding defensive.

"Not my call, pal.  Take it up with Cap' after the briefing."

Wren responded, steely cold despite looking annoyed.  Riviera started to take in breath to have another go, when Wren interrupted him, hoping to bleed out enough steam to make him shut up.

"If it matters at all, he's moving you to interviews because of your people skills and how keen you are to pick up on lies and body language.  I don't know how to do any of that shit."

Wren tried desperately to pull off casual, but didn't get a chance to find out before the Captain came walking in.

"Alright, everyone shut up and sit down.  This has become a fucking mess, and I want this serial killer found, quickly and quietly as you can.  We don't need any more publicity on this if we can help it.  Now that's out of the way..."  

He barked loudly at the room at first, but then simply became deep voiced and loud enough to hear.  The temper of a man who is used to quieting down a room.

"The new developments.  We have ID'ed the last two victims.  Both were ID'ed by Detective Wren, so I'm going to let him take it from here.  Robert."

The Captain motioned with his hand at Wren and stepped away from the center of the room.  

"Alright."

Wren said, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth and flicking it into the trash can by the door before walking over by the Captain with a dismal and bored look on his face.

"Listen up!"

He yelled into the room while picking up the remote for the projector.  Someone in the back dimmed the lights a bit, and as he clicked the button a mug shot of a heavier-set man, broad at the shoulders and angry looking appeared.

"I'd like to introduce all of you to this piece of fucking trash 'ere.  Jon Taylor Mindell.  Asshole has a rap sheet the length of my leg, but that don't matter much anymore.  Notice..."

He said, pressing a button that changed the picture to a faceless victim, and then a different button on the projector remote which produced a laser pointer dot just under a triangular-shaped scar just under the collar bone.

"This is how I ID'ed this prick as the next-to-last vic'.  Rape charge a few years ago, the victim described this man, I drew him, ran the system, popped him in some run-down getting high.  He got this scar after he was released from prison for the rape.  And I only know that because we arrested the man who did it not even a month ago, Charlie Schaffer.  Attacked him with an ice hook.  Don't know how many of you know what a wound from one of those looks like, well that's it right there."

He hit the button again and it changed slides to another faceless victim, this a female, average by all accounts, height, weight, etc.  But the way her cut upon face looked was very different than all of the other previous victims.  He didn't linger too long before hitting the button again, which brought up a file of a woman named Alaina Welsh.

"This is our latest vic'.  Some of you may be wondering why I was able to ID her so quickly when we still haven't ID'ed several victims so far.  Well, this vic' is cut on differently.  I won't go back to it, but like an artist, and knowing just what we would be looking for, this sick fuck left every facial reconstructive point on her face an actual pointed ridge.  What this means is that I pushed the fuckin' enter button, and 20 seconds later, here she is."

He stopped, like he had lost his steam, but hadn't.  He was simply trying to gauge whether or not everyone was keeping up with this so far.  He didn't know how to dumb the terms down any further, and there were still some confused faces out there.

"If you're still not following, this is a pretty clear indication that this killer has evolved.  He's grown bored with his effectiveness, and at this point wants us to be able to ID the bodies easily.  He wants a risk, a tolerable risk, to be introduced to his little game.  So far we have nothing on this guy as far as his own sloppiness goes, and I think he knows it.  He knows he's ahead of us and is getting bored with it.  Before each of you leave, you'll receive a file with a profile based on the information that we do have, which ain't much."

More blank stares and silence.  It was starting to bug him now.

"To sum it up, he's probably a white male, between 20-40, strong guy.  Killing Jon Mindell was not an easy feat, not for you, me or anyone in this room.  I think it likely he might have some kind of training, fighting, MMA, ex-military, something like that.  Read the file."

He finished as he tossed the remote on the table and just walked out of the room like it didn't matter, because it didn't to him.  He didn't want to put up with it any more.[/color]

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 15th 2017, 3:08 pm

"Come on, Captain. You can't split us up. We're the dynamic duo. Superman and Wonder Woman." Riviera complained. It had been fifteen minutes since the briefing had ended after Wren's departure and her partners complaining was giving her a migraine.

"I asked to be paired up with Wren, Riviera." She cut in, rubbing at both of her throbbing temples with the index and middle finger of each hand.

He slowly turned his head towards her, dark brows frowning over his handsome features. "You what? And you didn't tell me?!"

"Can we not fucking shout please? I've got the mother of all headaches right now and you're not helping."

"Oh, so sorry, Princess. Didn't realize that you're self-righteous bubble no longer included me."

If looks could kill, she would have slaughtered him on the spot. The Captain actually stepped between the two as the petite woman surged to her feet.

"You want to go a round, Riviera? In the gym. Anytime, no pads. But let me set a few things straight right off the bat. First, I do not answer to you. You're my partner, not my father or my keeper. Second, I do not cater to your over-inflated ego. If my skills and yours are going to be more beneficial on this case apart, than that is where we need to be. Apart. My priority, and yours, should be to catching this fuck job and not over who has the bigger dick."

She slammed her case file closed and stuffed it into her backpack that was hung on the back of her chair. She slung it over her shoulder before turning to her partner and the Captain. "I am heading home before this migraine gets worse."

As she walked away, she could hear the Captain reaming Riviera a new ass hole. She knew Wren got under her partners skin and it further pissed Xavier off that she found him amusing when Riviera wanted her attentions for himself. Even though it was dark outside, Amanda slid her dark sunglasses over her eyes. The light from the lamps in the parking lot were glaring brighter as she walked to her truck. Spots were beginning to dance across her vision which was never a good sign. If she didn't make it home soon, she was going to be violently sick, more than likely have to call out for her next shift.

Her mood turned even more sour when she realized she had forgotten her keys on her desk. "Son of a bitch." She cursed beneath her breath. She sighed softly before turning to head back into the precinct.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 16th 2017, 4:00 pm

Wren was hoisting the shoulder-strap of his leather portfolio filled with case files over his head and was on his way to leave when he thought to glance over at Knight's desk to see if she was still there.  She was not there, but he could see her keys laying there.  His brows furrowed together for a moment while he slowed to a stroll and turned around, but continued walking, although backwards now, before calling out.

"Hey, Meiner!"

It sounded more like a bark.

"Yeah?! Who's th-"

The voice broke off as a somewhat wide, middle-aged man came around a corner from a few offices.  

"Hey, Rob!  What can I do ya' fah?"

The good-humored voice was potently affected by a Boston-esque accent

"Knight still here?"

He asked, now only slowly taking steps backward, aware of a desk coming up soon.

"Nah, she jus' left.  Yah only missed haar by a minute or two, prolly still in the lot."

He called out, already turning around to return from the office he came from.

"Yeah, thanks, Pat!"

Wren yelled just loud enough for Meiner to hear as he turned 90 degrees to his right and walked over to Knight's desk.  With a quick smile and a short snort, he snatched the keys up from the nearly clean desk and turned back toward the door.  As he was walking up to it, he rapped the back of his knuckles loudly on a frame of glass that Lucy sat behind, who greeted him with a smile and a wave as she buzzed him through.

"Have a good night, Robert!"

She called at him after he passed through the door.  He only responded by tilting his head down a little and waving his right hand at her over his head as he pushed the front exit open with his left.  He hadn't even gotten to the short flight of steps yet before he saw Knight on her way back.  He turned off to the left from the bottom of the steps to intercept her.

"You lose something, partner?"

He asked, pulling the keys up to shoulder height and jingling them a single time.

"They called you in right off the clock, didn't they?"

He further inquired as he handed them out while pulling the shoulder strap of his portfolio case away from his neck and back onto his shoulder.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 16th 2017, 4:18 pm

Relief flooded through her when she saw Wren jingling her keys. Though his image was blurry, she could still make out his face and right at that moment, he was an angel. She wouldn't have to wade through the chaos that was the bullpen and into the tension filled homicide department.

"You may have just saved some lives tonight, Wren." She snorted faintly. "Sorry, just have a killer migraine forming and Riviera only made it worse. Dick doesn't even care that I can barely fucking see straight." She grumbled, mostly to herself as she took her keys from Wren. Amanda turned on her heel, slowly so she didn't upset her already tetering balance and made her way towards her truck. She flicked her keys around with her thumb, finding the one to unlock the door. Her fingers fumbled and they dropped to the ground with a clink.

"Shit." She sighed, her shoulders slumping faintly. She stood there for a few moments, debating with her stomach on weather or not it was going to come out of her mouth. "This is so not my night."

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 16th 2017, 4:42 pm

"Yeah, well, that's Riviera for ya'. Throws a tantrum if you don't worship him."

He replied with a chuckle at his own implication that Xavier was a child.  This moment passed quickly, and he began to turn when he heard her keys hit the pavement.  Instinct turned his head, just couldn't help it.  He read her body language like a book as soon as her shoulders slumped and quickly tread the few paces to her and put his right hand on her left shoulder lightly.

"You alright?  Gone a bit pale on me."

He didn't even wait for her to respond before stooping down and with a flick of his right wrist snatched the keys up from the pavement quickly and stood back up.

Concern wasn't usually his thing, and he didn't do it often, but she looked pretty terrible, and was about to get into a suped-up truck, so naturally he wanted to know if his new partner was about to become his late partner.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 16th 2017, 5:16 pm

It took her a few moments to answer him. She was fighting the urge to throw up in the middle of the parking lot. After a slight deep breath, Amanda finally responded.

"To be perfectly honest, no, not really. I suffer from migraines. Severe ones and I have a monster of one right now that is threatening to eat me alive. I am doubting that I will be able to make it home without help." She admitted, sounding more defeated than anything else. She hated feeling weak but that was what these migraines reduced her to. A sick, weak mass. She had to be in a dark place, no music, no light. Complete silence and air conditioning. The heat always made them worse. Which was why she lived away from town and up in the mountains. All that noise. All those people. Sure, she was good with people. Interacting with them, talking with them but deep down she would rather be by herself and away from the rest of civilization.

"Yo, Knight!" The sound of her partner's voice roared through her like a freight train.

Instinctively, Amanda reached out and gently grabbed Wren's forearm.

"I swear to God if he comes near me, this could go one of two ways. A; I throw up on him, or B; I make him eat his teeth."

Yes she was pretty pissed off at her partner, but the annoyance seethed into rage. When her head throbbed this bad, her temper was quicker to trigger. Though she found it rather surprising that she found Wren's presence soothing rather than irritating. Pretty much everyone else made her angry. What made him so different? Too much thinking. Her vision swam and she let her head thump against the cool metal of the front fender of her truck.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 27th 2017, 12:36 pm

"Oh, fuck, here we go."

Wren sighed under his breath, but just loud enough to Knight to hear.

He quickly slid his fingertips between her head and the truck as she went to pound her head a second time with a chuckle, then patted her shoulder with the same hand as he unclipped his portfolio strap on one side and hoisted it into the back of her truck with his free hand.

"Hey, I got this.  No worries."

And with that he turned away and walked around the truck to intercept Riviera, who was taking good, long steps, trying to close the distance quickly.  He stopped in his tracks though when Wren made eye contact and called out at him.

"It's called the Riviera hour...because we only gotta put up wit' ya' for an hour."

Wren exclaimed in a boisterous bark.  There were 5 other people on their way to their vehicles who stopped mid-stride and took up spectating. It was not a secret that Riviera hated Wren, and half of the PD had bets on who would win if they did fight, so they weren't about to leave.  Unfortunately, for people like Riviera, a crowd empowers them to be more bold, to impress someone.  If anything caused a fight right now, it would simply be environment.

"Yeah, fuck you, Wren.  I just want to have a word with my partner, that's all."

Came an unusually calm reply from Riviera.

"Alright, 3 things.  1 being that she is not interested in talking to you right now, and the second is that there's a lot more important shit to be done right now.  There's a sick fuck running around cutting people's faces off, and you want to cry like a 3rd grade girl about being temporarily reassigned away from Knight?"

Wren continued barking at him and walking toward him.  At the moment, leaving a large gap between them and Knight seemed his best option.  The symbiotic relationship between vocal cues and visually displaying difficulties toward their goal was a powerful tool.

"Look, Robert.  That's my partner, I'm going to talk to her.  You can move, or I will ma-."

Riviera had glanced around at the spectators before beginning to puff up.

"Which brings me to 3.  She is not your partner."

Wren cut him off as he was delivering his threat, and a wave of deep pink ran through Riviera's skin, anger flaring up.

"She's MY partner now."

That was the last comment he was going to let go, and Riviera began to cock back his arm for what likely would have been a good, solid punch.  Unfortunately for Riviera, that was exactly what Wren was trying to get him to do, go for the haymaker.  About half-way to throwing that fist, Wren quickly jabbed out and landed a soft blow on the top of Riviera's collarbone and throat.

Riviera nearly fell backward, but staggered down into a crouch instead, quickly cupping his hands to his throat, gagging and gasping for air.

"I'm glad we had this talk.  I hope we don't have to bring it up again. Will we?"

Cold and flat was Wren's tone, and there wasn't a chance any of their spectators, who were trying to act like they just stopped to look a moment ago, heard him say it.

"N...no"

Riviera coughed out as quietly as he could.

Wren did not respond, just turned around and began back toward Knight.  With every step, he expected Riviera to come at him again, but he never did.  He stayed crouched there, glaring with hate in his eyes at Wren walking away, slowly calming his gasping.

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PostSubject: Re: Face of a Killer (Writing Exercise)   February 27th 2017, 3:48 pm

Amanda allowed a sigh of relief to nearly stagger her. She propped herself up only by sheer force of will. She had stopped banging her head against the fender of her truck, but she kept it pressed against it's cool surface in hopes of getting any kind of comfort from this devil of a migraine. Carefully, she followed Wren around the front of her truck, but remained hidden as she peered out from behind the headlight to watch the confrontation. Through squinted eyes and blurry vision, she witnessed Riviera take a swing at the other man. She was nearly floored with amusement as Robert expertly struck a blow that left her partner on his knees gasping for breath. Served him right. Arrogant bastard. Yes he was her partner and she cared about what happened to him, but she was not about to let anyone step on her toes. Not the Captain, and certainly not Riviera. They had done enough of that after Jared had been killed.

Closing her eyes, she groaned softly before sliding down to the ground on her butt, head nearly level with the bottom of the truck frame. Why did she have to make it so damn high? It looked like miles just to crawl up and into the cab. There was no way she was going to drive home now, not like this. If she could climb into the truck, she could probably catch a couple of hours rest before she made an attempt to get home and into the blessed quiet sanctuary she had made there. What she wouldn't give for strong fingers rubbing her scalp, or better yet her temples. With another groan, Amanda hoisted herself up off of the ground, managing to wobble to her feet. She attempted to pry open the passenger door of her truck, but remember it was locked and Wren still had her keys.

"Shit." She grumbled, letting her forehead thump against the door handle.

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