The only thing worse than the stench of week old chinese food and wet garbage was getting flung out of a window and into a dumpster filled to the brim with the real thing.
Under about forty pounds of mostly sweet and sour chicken and sticky noodles was the now very unhappy and sore Dark World Detective (or DWD) Conner B, Raines. Who was now questioning every life decision he made leading up to this point.
The detective's hand came over the side of the metal dumpster and gripped the edge tightly. He used the leverage to pull himself out of the slimy mess resulting in a cascade of takeout boxes.
Shaking most of the garbage off of his department issues reinforced black windbreaker and matching ball cap he took a moment to sniff himself and audibly gagged. The plain white shirt he wore under the windbreaker was more of a mix yellow and orange now. "Well crap, should know better than to wear my good shirts by now. He sighed and peered up through the mess.
Pulling himself over the edge took a little effort, he didn't exactly have stable footing, finally he slung himself over the edge landing in a half crouch. Standing up to a solid six foot three inches Conner usually had to look down at most people. Spending four years of his life in a hidden government funded training facility certainly had its benefits when it came to physical fitness.
His DWD windbreaker was reinforced with iron plating over the chest and back, protecting his heart ; partially covering the lungs and ribs. He also wore a matching pair of equally durable cargo pants and combat boots. His DWD badge hung around his neck by a steel chain, the silver plating on the shield reflected the afternoon light. Wearing all black reinforced combat gear might normally make you stand out but you would be really surprised what most people just ignored in downtown New Orleans.
Taking off his hat to knock of some greenish pork,he raked his free hand through his short brown hair to make sure no leftovers hitched a ride. Once he was sure his hair was sauce free he tugged his ball cap back on and peered up at the window he had just been tossed out of, his bright green eyes met with two bulging orange spheres that used to be part of a human face, but were now mutated to look like oversized frog eyes. Conner smiled "looks like I'm going frogging tonight."
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This creature was one of the more common causes of supernatural trouble that plagued the streets of New Orleans, a cursed. Three of his cases this week were just the same story different location, some poor idiot ticks off a witch and winds up with an ages old animal spirit bound to their soul. He pulled out his specially made Beretta 92 from his shoulder holster and checked the magazine.
If this guy was just recently cursed he could still be reverted back to normal without too much trouble, the curses were different than were creatures. Werewolves and the other were's needed a whole list of conditions met to get back to normal, most just didn't bother.
The cursed lose the ability to stay in control when they are sufficiently harmed or under extreme duress, after that you were in for a hell of a fight. If you can get one trapped or disable it any two bit shaman or legitimate priestess could cure them. This guy would definitely survive a couple holy .22's to the chest, but he wouldn't be getting back up for a while.
Conner looked to his left and saw a metal door set into the brick wall, rusted but it still looked sturdy. Readying his pistol he made his way across the dimly lit ally, his boots splashed through a few orangeIsh puddles and scared a couple roaches before he covered the distance between him and the door and placed a size 12 firmly in the center of the rusted steel.
The detective admired the huge dent that suddenly formed in the metal followed by the sound of snapping hinges, looks like they weren't in as good of condition. He shouldered the door and pushed, a final creak and it was sent swinging open, revealing a nearly complete break room slash kitchen.
Conner pulled his pocket light out and clicked it on, the beam cut through the dark and revealed two more tarped over doors and a couple paint cans stacked in the corner between them. The Mountain Dew cans and sandwich wrappings on the kitchenette didn't really interest him as much as the creaking ceiling above him.
He waited patiently for his energetic new friend to calm down, he wanted the frog man to think he'd high tailed it home. "No offense frogger but im about to take as many cheap shots as possible." He whispered that threat as he lifted the tarp on the doorway to the main floor. Now facing the buildings destroyed entryway and smashed receptionist desk, he cringed thinking of the bill he'd already racked up for the city.
Conner simply pulled his hat down as he only now thought to check for security cameras. He spied a red blinking dot above the smashed desk and silently cursed his bad luck, he quickly stuttered "uuuh...bill the fbi main office for any damages or complaints." he hoped they had audio in those. Conner quickly ran through the mess of broken furniture and debris all over the tiled floor. He rounded a corner and came to a stop, the stairwell leading to the main offices was in front of him still wet with human and frog mutant foot prints.
He slowly creeped up the steps until he came to the open doorway leading to the second floor, he took a moment to listen for the creature's heavy footsteps. His gun held at the ready he waited, for at least three minutes without so much as a sound. [This thing was either really patient or he had hopped out the broken window looking for a weaker target] he silenced that train of thought.
He couldn't help but feel that this was too much trouble for his first case back home. "I swear, if i see him running through the streets i'm just aiming for a leg, ive had enough cardio today." He quietly stepped through the doorway for a better view of the room, gun and flashlight at the ready he surveyed the empty space checking every dark corner.
With no frog monster in sight he relaxed his shoulders and swore. "Well shit, guess your good at sucker punching but not standing you gro- Hrrmph!!". His sentence ended in gibberish, interrupted by a giant green and brown frog hand sticking firmly to his face and lower jaw, before he could fire a single round into the unseen creature it yanked him through the ceiling tiles with ease.
He hit the actual roofing of the building with a hollow thud and dented the steel, briefly glimpsing the suspect on his descent he could swear the now freakishly wide frog head was sporting a smug grin. Conner crashed through the mineral fiber tiles in a shower of wires and dust, one in particular power cord catching his boot and flipping him in midair landing him on his back.
Conner laid still for a moment judging the amount of pain he currently felt, while a thin cloud of insulation floated down from the hole above him. "Yup thats a broken rib, and a bruised tailbone for sure." he lamented his injuries silently as the creature slowly circled the opening above him, it had to be at last as tall as he was and way a good 50 pounds or more than when he last saw him, judging from how fast it had been mutating he must be really pissed.
The creature's two baseball sized eyeballs glowed slightly orange in the darkness and peered down at him waiting for any sign of moment, Conner made sure he laid still as a dead man.The orange glow of the shapeshifters eyes darted in and out of sight periodically, it seemed the creature was patient , he wasn't.