"The Cleavers are lawful, impartial and incredible warriors of justice who just happen to die rather a lot. They do not go around killing cats."
Prologue
Razor's, no surname given, sudden death was indeed quite shocking to most people, not least to himself. One moment he was chowing on iced donuts and butter cookies, the next his half-mind was stumbling through the mists, bumping into as many things as his large body was accustomed to doing at the Library he frequented. No one was surprised he was so easily killed, but they were shocked about why someone would kill a harmless fat guy with a lack of any real talent for magic, who to top it all off had called himself "Razor". The only possessions he had in life were the neccesities: a television, and lots of ready-made food. The only threat he posed was the number level of negative zero (don't ask). And he was called "Razor".
The current detective investigating the scene, Faust Sarc, noted this down on his notepad: "Cause of death: Fire magic and/or generic pyromania, that somehow managed to hit him directly in the brain. Motive for murder: Unknown, possibly due to a hatred of stupid names." Ah, what a hillarious joke he had made. It was, of course, mean-spiritedness that had kept him from being one of the "big" detectives, but you know what? Who cares? The ability to insult fat guys named Razor was a blessing worth not being the Sanctuary's prime detective.
The Cleavers stood nearby, performing the "strong but silent" cliché. They were grouped together and practically stuffed together, doing absolutely nothing. That was the power of the Cleaver's uniform. They did nothing, but they did it blankly. If you could see through their masks, you'd perhaps notice them and say, perhaps, "How's the weather?", "Do you know what the time is?" or even "Hey, you're twitching a bit. You nervous about something?". Their masks took away such feelings, and in the process made them fierce and strong. In the process it made them nobody. While in uniform, they weren't people. They were Cleavers. Emotions didn't show, and thus weren't there. Out of sight, out of mind.
Off to the right, in the bushes at the darkness of the night in the morning, Faust heard a noise.
And his name was Razor.