Detective Stone “Stoney” Hardaz sat at his desk reading the evening paper. The graveyard shift was always like this, quiet for an hour or so and then, inevitably there would be trouble. Detective Stone reached for his coffee and took a sip. The coffee scalded his tongue but he liked it. His steely gaze roamed over the front page. Nothing new to see, just the same stories of war and death. Despite all ordnances to the contrary, Stoney lit a Camel and took a satisfying drag before looking for the sports section.
Into the room came Detective Perkins. Stone looked up from his paper with his steely gaze and acknowledged the other man.
“What’s the word, Tim?” he asked casually.
“Haven’t you heard?” Perkins replied, “Someone’s been killing Goths downtown.”
“Fuckin’ shame,” Stone replied with a singular lack of interest, “Let’s go get some donuts.”