Supposed to be an All-Original-Cast Grimmverse but I'm lazy and we all know how my AOC things work out. Wall is up.

Cold. Very cold.

The grey walls were stained red. Bloody crimson and it dripped in little pools to the floor. It looked like a TV show murder scene. Blood was everywhere. It clung in stalactites to the ceiling and pools dripped all over the floor. Footsteps tracked bloody paw prints all over the floor.

They wove into a myriad dance before ending at a body. A girl. She curled up in a fetal position, trying to preserve the warmth in her body. But to no avail, her core temperature dropped gradually. It started at her fingers. Then her hands went dead. Her toes were icicles and her feet were off connection to her body. Her appendages were chilled to the bone and no the only thing that still worked was her heart and her brain. Her heart beat raggedly and her lungs labored to breathe. The cold air was only minutely warmed by her exhausted lungs. Her brain functioned at a snail's pace but that was enough. One thought flickered across her consciousness. Him. And it all went dark.

"Are you joking?" She sat at a small ocher table and cradled in her hands a pair of Giants tickets. She was alive. She was happy.

"No joke." A boy sat across from her and smiled at her. "Do you think he'll like them?" His young face had a few shaving scars, tales of his morning in front of the mirror, and his dark hair spiked up in the strangest places.

She grinned and passed them back. "They are perfect." He smiled even wider, revealing a set of perfect teeth. And then a dark skinned boy sat down at the table and sipped his coffee.

"What are you talking about?" He looked at them over his chilled cappuccino. The girl gave the first boy a wink and got up.

"Go get 'em, tiger." The dark skinned one was surprised when the other boy took his hand and flashed the tickets.

"Are you kidding me?" An excited chatter filled the air.

And she walked away.

"Boys, we got a homicide." They leaned over the dead body.

"Death by bludgeoning. Five foot ten inches. Caucasian. Male." The M.E. stood up and removed the plastic gloves. They were stained a chilling red.

"What about the girl?" They all glanced over to the girl wrapped in an orange shock blanket. She kept trying to shrug it off but the medics slung it ever her shoulders. The uniformed cop looked annoyed and was once again trying to get a few questions answered without a smart comment.

"Look, he is an affluent young lawyer. He just got upgraded to partner at his firm. Don't bother calling it in, he didn't go to work. You can tell it was staged to look like suicide but the marks all say bludgeoning. The killer probably hit him up at around six. Then, the perpetrator dumped his body here around ten." She crossed her arm flashing the red stripes on her jacket.

The officer looked even more annoyed. "Kid, I just want you to tell me what you saw."

"Fine. I saw everything as it was when you arrived except I turned him on his side to see if he was breathing." She held out a battered mobile. "I got photos." The officer took the phone and searched it. Then he bagged it to her amusement and stalked off in a huff.

"Who is she?" The uniform, a round pink man, walked up in a huff and gave the bag to the detectives.

"She says her name is Minna Viveca. She is a high school student, but as you know, they are out of school for furlough days. She was in a café with friends but forgot something at the library and was going back to get it when she saw this." He gestured to the body. The detectives nodded his dismissal and after a bit of debate, decided they would ask her if she was the killer after getting a coffee.

"How do you know he is a lawyer?" She tossed a wallet on the desk.

"Confirmation. BGD law firm. They're situated over on Market Street." The detectives gave her a startled look.

"You took his wallet?" One detective, he had introduced himself as Gregory, stared at it incredulously.

"I held it with a napkin," she offered. The other detective, a detective by the name of Lawson, bagged it quickly and motioned for the girl to empty her pockets. She turned them inside out and found nothing. He was surprised they hadn't picked up the wallet when they searched her for weapons earlier.

"How did you know he was a lawyer?" Gregory watched her suspiciously.

"I would like to plead the fifth."

"You can't plead the fifth."

"But, you'll think I'm crazy." She shrugged.

"We won't." He tried to conceal his annoyance. Crazy? He was for asking a girl when she knew things that meant she was the killer. She watched his expression.

"Okay, then." A spark alighted in her eyes. "He has money. The shirt is Dolce and Gabbana, actually the whole suit is. There is a slip of paper in his pocket a receipt for a coffee shop. Why was he there? A quick Google search will tell you the courthouse is not even twenty feet away. The cufflinks say BGD on them. Lawyer at BGD. And from the smell, he's gotten promoted. He wants to make a good first day impression. The cufflinks are presented to partners at the firm and confirmed from the images on the website, so partner he is."

"And suicide?"

"His body was positioned to look like he jumped from the building. There was a problem; he had a dent in his head. Suicide out."

"And the time?"

"Look at his shirt. The tie is wide but messy and the top button of his shirt is not done up. No lawyer would leave the house like that. He would have to get up early if he wanted to get to the office considering today's traffic and the BART strikes. He got up around six. I walked past there at nine this morning and no body. I walk past at eleven and there is? Ten, because it would have taken the body an hour to cool at the temperature outside."

She smiled tightly. Greg looked unfazed while Lawson was flustered. Clearly not used to the witnesses doing the forensic and police work, then serving it up on a platter garnished with a dollop of condescendence.

"That was crazy." Lawson ventured. A bit unimaginative.

"No shit, Sherlock." Gregory muttered taking his clipboard and making notes.

She observed them for a second. "Detective Lawson, how is your girlfriend doing?"

"What are you talking about? I'm married." He held up his hand to show her the ring. His face had blossomed into a bright pink hue.

"Exactly." She smiled again. It was a shark's grin.

"That was an interesting trick." Gregory sat in the break room watching the girl sip on a tea. Her black jacket had red horizontal stripes over it. She wasn't a fan of coffee. She watched him.

"A parlor trick, really." She took another sip of her tea. "It takes little effort. I don't' do it often because people stare, but when someone annoys me enough, I will." She gave him a few seconds and continued watching him. "So what's your story?"

Gregory stiffened. Last thing he wanted was to tell this girl.

"I believe you could tell me about that metamorphosis going on with your face." She stared watching him intently. Unlikely she was willing to show it, but an eager and slightly scared expression crossed her face and settled in her eyes.

The inner creature shrugged. Why not? His face switched out. And, he waited. She didn't change. The only thought that occurred to him when he caught a whiff was "Oh, crap".

"Grimm." The words left his mouth. She looked confused.

Her pretty little head tilted to one side. Her hair revealed a pale neck and a lovely pulsating jugular.

No. Stop! What was he thinking? The "kill Grimm" instincts were taking over. No. They wouldn't. Not while he was breathing.

"Grimm." He waited for her to react. To pull out a dagger and cut his head off. To carve out a slow and painful death. But, it never came.

"You mean the writers? The faerie tales." That was it?

"You have no idea what you are." Gregory stated in awe. She didn't' know. Her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I have no idea. So, may I ask that you explain?" Her question was well phrased. And she watched him intently.

"You read the fairytales, right?" She gave him a small shake of the head.

"Not, really. I have heard of a few but I have never read them." His eyes rolled automatically. Kids these days; they never had time for anything other than their cell phones.

"What you are is a Grimm, a human who sees people, like me, as beasts. You are creature hunters. Sort of like a vigilante group in fairytales." That she grasped readily.

"You go around killing guys like us." He leaned back into the chair. Her eyes scanned his body.

"Killing?" She stared. She was making it a habit.

"Yes. Killing." He let that sink in. It sank remarkably quickly.

"So what are you?" Her eyes lit up. So this was something interesting for her.

"Blutbad." Gregory said quietly.

She repeated perfectly. "Blutbad." Her mouth wrapped around the words and her lips parted to reveal the soft, red inside of her mouth. Red. For a second, he wondered exactly how much red could drain out of her body. Her body shifted defensively under his stare.

"German. Meaning: bloodbath," Gregory continued. "What you Grimms call the 'big bad wolf'. Sadly, I am not very big," he motioned at the badge on his belt, "or very bad." She sat for a second watching him.

"How does this Grimm gift work?" She gave him a few seconds as her gaze roamed the room, looking for observers and on lookers. More for his benefit because if anyone heard, he sounded crazy.

"First of all, 'gift' means 'poison' in German. A bit confusing at Christmas, but you get used to it." He could see her mentally file that away. What a weird kid. What a weird Grimm. "Second, not exactly sure so let me tell you about myself. You're probably going to ask that next." She nodded.

"Blutbad is a type of wesen. 'Wesen' is a creature in general. We typically keep to our selves, like red, and stay in packs." She stared.

"Stop staring." Her intent gaze wavered and settled on looking apathetically interested. But, she was far from apathetic.

"I am different. I'm a weider blutbad. We stay good, in a sense. No killing little girls, off to see their grandmothers." He took a breath.

"We use drugs, a special diet and Pilates. We even have our own church. Frankly, you couldn't tell the difference between us and anyone else on the street unless we slip. Of course we can show our 'game face' to normal people but that shock would probably send them to the nut house. Though if the guys we got pleading insanity these days have anything to do with it, they are comfortable."

"But, in general normal people can't see it. You, Grimm, can. Somehow, you can. And all these years you have used it to hunt us down and kill us." His eyes grew cold and a snarl escaped him. For a second, her pupils bloomed in black and her breathing hitched. But it wasn't fear. The lips parted slightly, a smile of exhilaration.

"Oh, why are you so close? No fraternizing with the suspects."

A tall blond woman stepped into the break room. She filled her mug and asked, "Detective Kreig, you know the rules. No romance with the suspects while they are under investigation. So, why are you two sitting so close?" they were two inches from each other.

Gregory shifted back. Minna leaned back only lightly. She didn't want to release her grip on the officer.

The blonde grinned revealing a full set of pearly teeth. "Don't worry too much longer though. The library just cleared you. We'll finish the paper work in a second." Gregory relaxed as his boss left the room.

"So, the girlfriend is your commanding officer."

"Who?"

"Your partner, Lawson, is in a romantic relationship with your commanding officer."

"What?"

"You see when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"No. He's not my partner. I get it but how did you figure they were in a relationship?"

"She's wearing his deodorant and clearly hadn't gone home for the night. Who else? Don't tell his wife, though, I surmise she'll find out when she sees the blonde hair on him." She continued, "She called you 'detective' and wears very high, expensive heels. It is a desk job with rank difference. She also speaks with authority, ergo commanding officer." He watched her. He was glad he watched the Sherlock Holmes series as a kid. Or at least the reruns. He found it a great advantage to not go around saying "amazing" to a Grimm.

"So, I assume there are more of you?" Her question appeared out of the blue.

"Who?"

"Wesen or blutbads?"

"Blutbaden." He corrected. "Oh, of course, there are melllifers, and hexenbeists, and jagerbars, and…" Oh My Grimm, he was helping her. Paranoia kicked in. "This is what you were going for the whole time. You faked innocence. You just want to know where the creatures are and you'll dispose of us."

"Right and wrong, dear Gregory." She settled on her elbows. "I want to know more about you. However, I have no intention of killing anyone. I would like to stay out of prison." He let his breathing settle. She wasn't going to kill anyone. Great.

"Okay, kid, I have questions for you."

She shrugged, "Fair is fair. I asked five. You asked one question not counting the rhetorical ones. Your grand total is four questions. Ask away."

"Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"I require information," she deadpanned. She was as crafty as a fauchsbau. That was one question down.

"Why aren't you reading the Grimmoires?" Two.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You don't know what the grimoires are? Wait! That's not my question." She nodded. The first, the second, or both?

"Okay, then, I'll assume you have no idea what the grimoires are. Why are you asking me? Wait I know the answer. I'm the closest person to you." Hn… He wasn't sure what to ask her.

"Why are you doing this?" Three.

"Sitting? Because it's comfortable."

"No, I meant." He furrowed his brows slightly. One question. She read the frustration off his face.

"You have until I leave." She gave him a smile.

"How did your relation die?" She seemed taken aback. Then with a grim scowl she muttered to herself. Something in another language. She heard a knock and her mother, at least he assumed it was, appeared in the doorway. The woman was old enough to be her mother. She was a bit round around the stomach and wore a pair of elastic waist jeans. She looked too awkward. As if she still didn't know Minna very well.

"You'll find that on file, Detective Kreig." Minna turned to the woman, "I need to stop by the library. My folder is there and I want to check out a few books of fairy tales and learning German." She gave him a sharp look and smiled a fake grin to her mother before walking out of the precinct. Not before raising an eye brow at Peterman. He was a bauerschwein. And surprisingly enough he didn't mind Kreig's blutbad status.

"Hey, Blutbad, you see that?" He looked excited. "A Grimm!" He plunked his butt in the chair she previously occupied. "She's a bit young but imagine it! A real Grimm!" He tossed his hands in the air and his second chin quivered. For a second, Gregory wondered how he stayed a uniform and kept up with the physicals. But then, this fellow worked inventory and evidence.

"I don't know I might have struck a nerve. And shut up about the wesen." He knew the bauerschwein would want to whack him upside the head. Bauerschwein were the closest thing to police in the wesen side of the coin.

"Damn. Five minutes and she hates your guts? I took her for the nice type, not your typical bloodthirsty Grimm." The portly fellow grabbed a glazed doughnut and bit into it. "Here's her file. Thought you might like to see it."

If Gregory Kreig had expected anything it wouldn't have been a rap sheet for Minna Viveca. But it wasn't. It was a case file on a car accident. Given she lived in Oakland at the time; it wasn't that big a deal. A gangster had gunned down a car and soon there was a pile up the length of Oracle stadium. A bit extravagant for a car pileup, but it was not unusual for a chain collision.

Then he saw the photos. There were none specifically of her but she was in the back drop of a few. She looked out of place in her red overcoat. For the anger and pain she must have felt as she watched her family get air lifted to the nearest hospital. For the madness that exuded around her. Judging by the reports and his colleagues there was a lot of that. But she stood taking everything in. Her eyes were too far away but he guessed they were blank. Shock. From the looks of that morning, she got over what she saw three months ago. Or she was coping. A small box printed that she had a few fractured bones but no breaks. Those healed and she was sent to her aunt. So that was the person who picked her up.

"Her parents aren't Grimm. They're too nice. Her aunt ain't Grimm too." The aunt was on the mother's side. I noted her father died that day alongside his mother and his wife. There was a picture of a young girl who looked a bit like Minna. She was hooked up to a respirator. The writing on the edge of the photo said "Teresa Viveca", Minna's younger sister was marked as deceased in the file.

"Her only living relation is her aunt on her mother's side. She's sorta rich and gets the occasional parking ticket. But who doesn't in SF?" Did her father know he was a Grimm? He never told Minna so it was safe to assume no.

His cellphone went off. A text from Lawson told him Minna was right. About everything.

"Thanks, Porky." Peterson started but gave up and grabbed a second doughnut. Detective Kreig left the break room and went up to his murder board. He wrote in bright red expo marker a name that would haunt him. Minna Viveca.