"If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong. If there is a worse time it to happen, it will happen then."- Murphy's Law
Whomever this Murphy guy was, you were going to kick his ass. With half a cappuccino dripping down your arm, shoes splattered with mud (the cute one's too), and fifteen minutes late on your first day, this was not the day to cross you. You nearly bit the head off of the security guard who asked to see your badge. You bit back harsh words, flashing the black wallet encasing a gold emblem. (f/n) (l/n), FBI.
You were from the separate division of the (y/s) Federal Investigation Branch, here to debrief some BAU team on homicides occurring at the capitol. Heels clicking on the tile floor, your squeezed past the metal detectors and front desk, whipping your head around to try to find a wall clock. Your over precautionary time check only led you to realize that your watch was a half hour fast. All that rushing. For nothing. Deep breaths, deep breaths. This left time to prep.
You ducked into the women's restroom, setting your disposable coffee cup down on the marble counter. A few paper towels fixed your shoes, and your sleeve was still damp, but a little less caramel-machiatto. You fixed a few fly-away hairs, patting down your clothes. You went for professional today, unlike the usual business casual you sported back home. These people were the big league. Though, the only reason you were sent out here was because you were the newbie (only 2 cases solved so far, and no one else was free to work on the weekend), you were so pumped to impress the pants of these agents. You would be mature. Witty. Intelligent. Confident. Basically the opposite of what you felt right now.
Untucking a manilla folder from your briefcase, you flipped through your papers as you walked out. Five dead bodies, female. All found with their eyes gouged out, and time of death showed that they were alive when they lost their sight. You shuddered, sipping whatever coffee was left before tossing it in the can. You wouldn't of been able to stomach your breakfast anyway, even if it hadn't been dropped in a puddle before you caught your taxi. With time catching up with you again, you hurried up the stairs, still distracted by the folder of horrors. The corpses had been found in various places all over the city, but always near water. It was an odd case, but you were sure the Behavioral Investigative Unit could handle it.
With the file shielding your eyes, and his cellphone distracting his, it was a collision waiting to happen. Papers flew, Polaroids of autopsies skittering across the floor, your briefcase clattering against hardwood before popping open. Your nose only neared his sweater for a split second, but within it you had an out of body moment of clarity. It was a unique smell, like mothballs and old paper. You hit the floor in a surprisingly similar style to your briefcase, the man above you teetering before catching himself on the wall. As the ceiling spun for a moment, any dignity leaving your body, only one thought in your mind. Murphy strikes again.