Oh, hello there. So, this is the beginning of my Heavy Rain story. Going to be honest, no idea where it will go. But it will go somewhere, somewhere hopefully good and pleasing to the general masses. I really do love Heavy Rain so I'm constantly concerned I've butchered it.

Also, this is my first time writing an OC. Exciting times are these.

This is basically Heavy Rain rewritten with my OC character injected in for some Jaaaaaaayden romance. Aw yeah. ALSO ALSO ALSO, I know profilers are FBI but, for the sake of this story, my character is NOT in the FBI. So, yes.

Reviews, as always, are appreciated. If you can give me tips, do! If you want to say it's good, do! Reviews are what keep me writing. No reviews make me uninspired and I really do want to take this baby far.

Chapters will not be this short, this is just a taste of the story. It will improve, trust me, but, right now, it's 1.49am and I.. just need to get this up.

If you've gotten this far, lots of fanfiction-y love for you.

OH.

I don't own Heavy Rain. But you knew that already.

Also, story title is from 'How to be Dead' by Snow Patrol. Don't own that either.

Tuesday

07.00 AM

Mia Greyling hated being woken up from a nice dream. So, when the cellphone on the desk in her small apartment began ringing monotonously, she awoke with a start, finding herself yet again asleep face first in her notes about the Origami Killer. The young profiler grunted, uttering small curses under her breath.

The cellphone still rang, seemingly getting louder and louder, as if it was competing with the heavy rainstorm outside. Grunting again, an arm reached out to her side, picking the phone up and ceasing the annoying chime.

Holding the phone up to her face and holding her face up with her other hand, she said groggily, "Hello?". She attempted to mask how very tired she was with a professional tone, but a yawn slipped through. This case was getting to her. This was the fifth time in a month she'd fallen asleep at her desk, various files and notes sprawled, each victim's face on their profile illuminated by the bright desk lamp resting beside her cell. Each victim's face a reminder of how she'd previously failed to catch the infamous serial killer that plagued central Philadelphia with his morbid rituals.

Young boys, origami figure in hand, mud on face, drowned in rainwater. Same every time.

The voice at the other end made no attempt at a polite greeting. "Greyling? There's been another victim. Fuckin' bastard has done it again. The whole team are meeting…" Mia tuned out. Lieutenant Carter Blake's barking voice was one she did not long to hear in the early morning. Another victim? "..don't know the kid's name yet, just know he's a young boy.." No surprise there. "..wasteland, by a railway.." How very characteristic of you, killer. Another body on another wasteland.

Mia pushed her long bangs from her face, a sour expression on her face. Her frustration grew due to lack of sleep and the increasing anger apparent in Blake's muttering. After so many cases.. Eight in total.. How could we not have found him? "Greyling..? GREYLING! Fuck, are you even listening? Take this seriously, you're not in high school anymore. Can you be here in twenty minutes? Why am I even asking? Twenty minutes, be here." Mia listened to Blake spew out an address at her, jotting it down on a fluorescent post-it note. She was just about to confirm when he hung out abruptly.

The young woman sighed and looked round her apartment from her office chair, one hand in her tangled chocolate-brown hair. She blinked marine blue eyes, trying to summon an energy boost that her intelligence told her only coffee could satisfy. She stood up and headed towards the shower.

Outside, the storm raged violently on.

Tuesday

07.10 AM

On the other side of town, Norman Jayden closed the door to his plush hotel room and descended down the stairs. In the two minutes it took him to reach the ground floor of the hotel, he checked five times that the cylindrical tube of precious blue sanctity was in the inner pocket of his suit. Still there. Still safe.

I would like to reinforce the fact that I love reviews. Preferably positive ones or ones with pointers. Welcome me to the club, as Captain Perry might do. Slagging off a story with no reason doesn't cut it. Reviewers will get free Tripto.. Yeah, I have connections.. No, I'm not pushing drugs... . ...Heheheheh. Seriously, though. I might just give virtual cupcakes. In Madison's wise and carefully thought out words, "You go girl!"