Midnight Breakfast at Denny's is an exercise in masochism for me. No matter how much self control you've built up, certain smells like frying bacon and percolating coffee; the beautiful sight of melted cheese oozing down the side of Pete's Moons Over My Hammy; even the sound of the old degenerate clinking his spoon around his mug, coaching his decaff to sugar saturation is music to my ears. I asked our gathered cell about Tommy Jeffries' report to point my mind away from the rising hunger.
Though we decided to pursue the case of Melany Rooke, we ended up in a tussle with a major demon demon. He had either possessed the body or fabricated the identity of Detective Crusher of the CPD and was using his position to hound us. I don't know about you, but I find it both alarming and flattering to know our cell has made it on Cell's radar. After luring him to the Holy Name the following day, we literally tore him to pieces.
The pursuit of Ms. Rooke proved fruitless. The cell investigated her home, her office and the home of her father. We came up empty handed. Evidence showed she fled her home, and after the initial visit to her father's home, he became unreachable. We have no leads.
We need to continue to pursue this woman. She may be a danger to herself. She may be a danger to others. More importantly, she may be the newest member of our organization. Without speaking to her, it's difficult to tell if she has recently come into her powers, or whether she's being tormented by demons. Note: One of us should find out her age.
One more unresolved thread: Rats, with mouths full of buzzsaw blades. These don't sound like demons or possessed animals. These are something new; a blending of flesh and technology. If I still had the capacity to feel, the very idea would repulse me.
Our plates are piling up: Rat-flavored techno monsters, the strange case of Melany Rooke, The Spearmen, The Homeless Army. Am I missing any?
Officer Kane, where are you?
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