❝ What are you going to do with that knife...? ❞
He stared at the set of cold weapons that he had. It was Sunday and he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. Just 72 hours ago he was on a run, hunting lycans who had killed for at least more than 10 people that week. His left arm splintered and throbbed, he could barely move it and yet here he was battered and bruised but eager nonetheless. With a photograph that showed a man lying prone on the pavement and a puddle of blood around his head in hand, he was determined to get to the bottom of this. “I was thinking about.. checking this out, I wonder if they’re all related..” He muttered under his breath, obviously forgotten that the other wasn’t aware of what he had encountered while he lost in his own head, noticing it would be too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence if they happen at the same week. “This is, getting.. interesting.”
