Thread: Ceremonial Killer (Haruchai x BeauteousDeath)

Name Dirk Crossbones Osterhout aka Cross Age 37 Height 6'5 Weight 275 lbs Hair color dark brown Eye color dark Marital status Widowed Occupation INTERPOL Special Agent, specialized in weapons and tactics - Human Trafficking Division Appearance -- December 20th, 2011 - 1056 am Agent Cross struggled to move through China Town and in fact had to abandon his car a block away from the crime scene because the foot traffic was so heavy. Though he received many stares he didn't let that deter him in the slightest, and the people here, of much smaller stature than himself, moved out of his way as he made his walked. He was a large man, well over six feet in height, and deep chested with broad shoulders. He'd dressed in what he normally wore to work a black pair of pants along with a black but lightweight fleece sweater, and the weather this time of year dictated a coat of some sort and his black trench sat well on his form. His dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the morning sun. The Hotel Mulberry. Bordering China Town and Little Italy, he found the location a bit auspicious. After the third victim his division had taken and interest, the victims eventually identified as women who had come up missing from their homeland - or daughters of such. Not that they had necessarily been reported right away. Their value, in truth, was little. At least as far as trafficking in general. However, it was believed that they might be moved across borders as sex slaves, and that was where Agent Cross came in. Though China usually took little interest or showed much backbone in the way its women were treated, it was still a member state of INTERPOL, and the fact that something was going on here could not be ignored. They had given their full cooperation and were, supposedly, opening their own investigation within their borders. Cross showed his ID at the entrance and was soon inside the hotel. It was a nice place, he had to admit, and was more upscale than what he had expected. If these women were part of any sort of trafficking or sex trade, then the operation was likely backed with no small amount of money. Cross had helped bust rings before, and many times the women were treated as little more than chattel and their working conditions were bordering on abject poverty, despite the money they made their handlers. Reaching the scene, Cross stopped and waited. He was never one to push around his authority, and fully intended to cooperate fully with the FBI on this. It was shared jurisdiction, and so long as they could catch this sick fuck then Cross would be happy. He'd only seen pictures of the previous crime scenes, and the images had been burned into his memory. Taking off his sunglasses he tucked them inside his jacket, on the opposite side of the shoulder-holstered firearm he carried. Though he had extensive training in weapons and tactics, in general most Agents had to abide by the laws of the host country in regards to firearms. Which suited Cross just fine. He'd already been briefed by the FBI, and even issued their standard Glock 22. Which he immediately relegated as his back-up weapon. The .40 was nice, but was often under-powered. Instead he'd grabbed his own Desert Eagle, chambered for .44 Magnum, though he had the correct barrels, magazines and bolt assemblies for .50AE, .440 Cor-bon and .41 Magnum loads. To say he wasn't prepared would have been laughable. Soon he was approached by a uniformed officer and he nodded when asked if he was Agent Osterhout. He frowned. He hadn't used that name for a long time, not since Nancy had died. Yet is was an easily forgivable mistake and one that could be corrected. The uniform radioed back and the order came to allow him entry. With a deferential nod to the man Cross moved beneath the barrier and pulled on a set of latex gloves. The forensics unit had moved out of the area, deeming that things could not be moved if needed, so he did not bother with the booties. The smell of blood was thick in the air, coppery and metallic. His eyes gazed at the scene before him, a lone woman the only person actually in the room containing the scene despite all the manpower he'd passed in the hall on the way here. She must be the lead Agent. he thought and stepped into the room. Special Agent Cross, ma'am. he said, his voice a steady tenor and powerful as he reported to her. He could see that she held something in her hands but did not yet asked what she had found. To rush an investigation like this invited diaster.