Born To Die Part One - The Case Chase

Kristoffer

Kristoffer Elias Piercebridge works for the AMI. His boss will never shut up about how amazing he is. He has been working there for the past two years, so since he was eighteen. He had dark brown skin and hair that falls in messy dreadlocks. His eyes are such a dark green that they look almost black, an inky emerald under light. He has a kind-hearted, slightly wonky smile, with a chipped front tooth. He earned it from hitting his face on concrete on his bicycle when he was fifteen. He is constantly biting the insides of his mouth and knocking his fists on his desk, which is highly frustrating to those working around him. Despite the whole AMI thing, he seems like a nice man on the outside. But his insides, his flesh, his organs, were covered in a layer of cigarette smoke and alcohol. He is a cherry-like man; a sweet, delicious exterior with a stony, dark inside.

He had been called into his boss's office for a sharp meeting time at seven-thirty am. However, he had a pretty rough night of sleep the night before involving crying until one-thirty am and sleeping on the floor. He had left the apartment in a haphazard craze, in a weird outfit, forgetting everything on the way there. He somehow makes it into her office in time; before even she comes in. He sets down his coffee on the table and stretches his legs out underneath the table, yawning deeply.

Strangelove essentially bursts down the door with her back, fumbling with manila folders and a hot mug of tea that spills all over her fingers. She swears under hear breath and starts muttering something rude about her husband.

Her eyes are a piercing, ugly, watery blue, like a pig's eyes set into the face of a woman. Her split-ended white hair reaches her waist in all flyaways, and she has the hands of a woman about sixty. She is, in fact, in her sixties. Kristoffer always knew it was in the hands. Her disgustingly lengthy talon-like nails are always painted a wine red, and her blazer is always immaculately ironed. Around her neck is a pendant that opened to reveal a vial of blood from her first killing of a magical person. It always makes Kristoffer shudder when he saw it.

'So, Piercebridge,' She snaps back into her general kind persona, a soft grin teasing the corners of her mouth, 'How have you done on the last case? I presume it went well. Sutharastan can't have been to hard to catch. She was only quite young.'

Kristoffer swallows the lump in his throat and tries to cover the pit in his stomach, making a grimaced smile through his guilt, 'Uh, yeah. She was pretty easy. Maybe I'd be up for more of a challenge.'

This is Kristoffer Code for "I fucking hate my job, please let me quit".

'Wonderful!' Strangelove trills, spreading out the folders on the table. She begins to sort through them with incredible focus. Some are labelled with her messy scrawl, saying things like "For Kathlyhan", "DO NOT GIVE TO TRENTON, HE WILL PUNCH ANOTHER HOLE IN THE BREAKROOM WALL", and, "Relocated; please update data!" She finally finds the one labelled "For Piercebridge", and slides it across the table to him. He recognises the faces and the names, eyes widening and stomach dropping.

'Okay. Thank you, Piercebridge. Good luck,' comforts Strangelove. Kristoffer stands up, but his body is trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he struggles to not drop his coffee as he leaves.

'Thanks, Ms. Strangelove.'