My exposed skin tingled as the wind whipped through the streets of Baltimore. I took up the binoculars in my hands, scoping out my target.

"Foxface! We have a problem. Your target hired professionals to guard him, I'd be careful if I were you. If you find yourself overwhelmed, abort the mission immediately."

"Understood. I'll call you when the job's finished, if I remember." I dropped the walkie talkie off the edge of the building, allowing it to shatter onto the cobblestone below.

I opened a portal that lead to the roof of my target's house, nearly slipping on the icy shingling. Arguing echoed from the interior of the suburban home. I swung from a dirty gutter, shattering the glass before tucking and rolling.

"Who the hell are you?!" My target was reaching for his gun when I punctured his carotid artery with my nails. He dropped his cell phone, the person on the other end yelling violently. His expression was that of a small child in denial that he had done anything wrong. His eyes were pleading for me not to let him die there in a pool of his own blood.

Outwardly, I had a pokerface save for a slight hint of a smirk. Inwardly, though… That's a whole 'nother story.

"Look at you… Such a pitiful wretch. How many innocent people did you send to jail just to boost your reputation? How many families did you leave crushed in your wake? The fact that you were still alive surprises me. How many enemies do you have, anyway? How many people will dance on your grave, aren't you the least bit curious?" His hands were covered in blood as he tried desperately to stop the bleeding. He probably hadn't even heard what I'd said, his heart is pounding too loudly in his ears.

I opened a portal and grabbed out a bottle of saltwater. A nice alternative to ammonia or those other chemicals. I kneeled down to the man, who was now going into shock, and dumped a healthy amount into his wound. His screams made my grin grow even wider.

Pounding on the door made it obvious that I had little time to finish up, so I sloppily painted my signature onto the wall and jumped out of the window. The portal below me led to The Infinite Spaces, a realm where time doesn't pass. Also, it goes on forever. I don't think it'd be possible to explore the whole place; it's like another dimension, it just expands the more I walk.

I poured some of the saltwater onto my hands, scrubbing them to get all the blood off. Then, I took the liberty of putting the bottle into a tub of more saltwater. Can't be too careful when handling evidence for an ongoing murder investigation.

::
"Who's the vic?" Police had closed off the area in front of the home so that they could investigate.

"Gerald Kladivo, he was a prosecutor."

"Means he had tons of enemies… What's this?" My partner's face went pale as he dialed the number for our chief.

"That, is the Faulkner Gang's insignia."

I leaned back in my chair listening to my MP3. Such soft tones classical music provides. Perfect music for an after-kill relaxation.

"Foxface, I assume the job's done?" I took out my earbuds and grinned. He nodded and walked over to the table.

"You want details, Barry?" He's Barry to me, but everyone else calls him Barracuda. Not sure why… Maybe it's an inside joke?

"No, thank you. Listen, there's a local gang that's been harassing the patrons of Frazier's Bar and Grill. Now, I know you like to go there in your spare time, but if we're going to get these guys, you'll need more than fists to finish the job." That was all I heard before putting my earbuds back in. And, although I can lipread, I can guess what he was saying: "It's too dangerous to go alone… Here, maybe Kat can go with you? Or maybe Teach? Foxface, I strongly recommend staying away from there at all costs. That's an order." He worries too much.

I smiled as I swung my feet off of the table and strolled out into the night. There's work to be done, after all.

"Do we have any witnesses, any leads as to who did this?" The chief sipped his coffee as he waited for the answer he knew he'd get.

"No sir, no witnesses, no evidence; it's like the vic just up and died. We can't even ID the weapon used." I stared at the ground, disappointed that I couldn't find one thing to help move this case along. Of all the gangs here in Baltimore… The Faulkner Gang is the one that's been able to elude the police for the longest time. They have two different variations to their signature: one painted in blood and the other marked with black spray paint. We have yet to figure out if there's a copycat or if the members just haven't agreed on what the signature should consist of. That would be some good news, the thought that they can't agree. We should hope that they'll have a falling out and kill each other. Although, how many members are in The Faulkner Gang has yet to be known.

One of the patterns we've noticed is that they target criminals and corrupt politicians, probably to justify their actions. Killing a prosecutor seems a bit, out of character for them. Perhaps by getting to know the victim, I can identify the reason he was targeted. With purpose, I rushed to my desk. If I can find even one of the members of The Faulkner Gang… I'd be famous throughout the bureau!

::
The bar fell into silence as I walked in, my cheshire smirk illuminated their faces. I sat on one of the stools, everyone held their breath to see what I'd order. My sadistic grin changed to a genuinely sweet smile as I nodded to the bartender.

"I'd like some milk, please." One snicker was all it took to end the silence as everyone but the bartender broke into a hysterical fit of jeers.

"She wants some milk? Who is this joker?"

"Go back home to your momma, sweetheart!"

"Why don't ya let me show you a real drink. Maybe afterwards, we could hang out at my place, see where that gets us." The entire bar roared with laughter as I sipped the cold beverage.

"You make the milk taste sour. Pity. I was hoping to relax before killing you." The bartender grabbed one of the glasses and began cleaning it. The bar was silent once more.

"I hope you'll stay to clean up this time. Maude was sore when she saw the mess you left us." I smiled at him, an old friend that I'd saved on one of my missions.

"Sorry, Lee. Thems the rules. The cops would love to have my head on a silver platter, and frankly, I don't intend to let that ruin such a wonderful day. Cheer up, though. I promise not to let their blood stain the wood. It's new, right?" One of the gangsters had got up from his chair and was stalking over to me, knife in hand. How droll. It's like they're not even trying to be creative. They're just… disappointing.

I set down my drink when he put his hand on my shoulder.

"What do ya mean, ya think you're gonna hurt all of us? That's cute, sugar. But I don't like being talked down to." He put the knife to my throat. "Any last words?"

"Yeah, you like snaps or crackles?" I took the opportunity to break his neck while he was confused. Instant death, it's a shame I didn't get to hear the pig's screams. I grabbed the knife and put it in my pocket. "Who's next?"

::
"How many people were in your bar when it happened?"

"Fifteen, plus me… So sixteen."

"Did you get a good look at the assailants?"

"No, they were wearing masks."

"Could you describe the masks?"

"Well, they looked like those masks that bank robbers usually wear."

"Alright. Anything else you might have seen, maybe one of them had an accent, maybe they were wearing cologne…"

"No, it all happened so fast. I'm sorry, but when can you get these bodies outta here? It's bad for business, you see." I thanked him for his time and left. Something doesn't feel right. Why would men wearing ski-masks come into a bar unarmed? All of the victims were killed the same way, a snapped neck, but how? They were all armed, didn't they fight back? The only clue I have to solving this case leads to an unsolved series of cases. The worst part? The blood's cells are all dead, which means I can't use them to ID the person the blood came from. What a headache. That damn insignia seems to get more creepy everytime it shows up.

"Detective! Might I have a word?" I stopped and stared at the young man. He was in his late 20's and for some reason, he looked familiar.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" The man surveyed the crime scene and glanced over his shoulder before leaning in.

"I saw who did it." He whispered. My eyes grew wide with interest. I took out a sketch pad and pen.

"Go on…"

::
I strolled through The Infinite Spaces, silently thanking Widner and puzzling over the simplicities that life can often bring. Heh, I'm glad I can trust ol' Widner. He always gives the most accurate of descriptions to the police. Fortunately, it's of a patsy. He doesn't work directly with us, but he helps where he can. He insists that he owes me his life, but I have no idea why. Frankly, I think he might be a bit delusional. Works out well for me if he is. Even if the police take him into custody and he admits who I really am, the police won't believe that a child like me could commit such heinous crimes without getting caught.

I stopped at the mountain of money piled up. Life really has no purpose, I'm just glad I've learned to create my own. I wonder if Maverick has the same dream as I, or if he wants something else from life? For the reader, Maverick is Barry. Everyone here in Baltimore has two names, the one they were born with and the one they go by.

The row of cars glistened, not a scratch or smudge on one of them. All the time in the world, and I'm spending it killing criminals. I'd say that's an honest dream. To rid Baltimore of all it's crime. And who knows? Maybe we'll expand past Baltimore someday. I've heard Chicago has it pretty rough. Maybe I'll travel there for a few weeks. Vacation is different for me than it is for most people. I work while on break.

The swimming pool's water was stagnant, yet it was crystal clear. I climbed up to the diving board and jumped in, it's waves came to life and sloshed around me. How did I get a swimming pool into my Infinite Spaces, you ask? That's my little secret. I have many more little treats here in my world, but they only fill me with a temporary delight. I want something that lasts.

I opened a portal leading to my room in the abandoned hangar. Such a simple room. Not much is needed when I find beauty in the few objects that I own: a white poker chip, a small chunk of milky quartz, and a necklace with a bearclaw as the main attraction. All of these objects mean something to me. Whether they were given to me by a friend or I just found them fascinating; they're all precious, regardless or their origins.

A loud banging echoed through the hangar. I froze and glanced over at Barry's door. He came out with his Desert Eagle in hand. Teddy joined us on the catwalk with his ax and shotgun. Kat stayed in the shadows, her bow pulled back and ready to fire.

"This everyone?"

"I do believe Range is up in the rafters. He says it gives him a good vantage point."

"His loss, close combat is way more invigorating than shooting fish in a barrel." I heard Teddy chuckling as I grabbed my machetes from my room. The rival gang burst through the side door with their guns blazing, not knowing the viper-pit they'd just stormed into. My lips stretched into a sickening grin. It's been far too long since blood has been spilled inside this hangar.

::
Author's Note: Please do not be turned off by the fact that none of the TF2 characters showed up in this chapter. They are going to show up in next week's.

By the way, a Schrodinger is a neutral entity with hardly an opinion. If they do have an opinion, it would be because it's forced into having one; forcing a neutral being to have an opinion causes it to develop a severe mental imbalance. This Schrodinger has already gone through the imbalance. You'll see next chapter. ^u^