Author's Note: Thank you for the wait on this chapter. It's literally a rough start but this is where are story starts rolling. I know Kris' attitude is a bit harsh but there are reasons. But I like to thank one reviewer, ChronoCrescentFlames for some advice. Also I like to thank everyone who is supporting a new writer and giving this story a chance.

PS. I'm starting on the Ch. 3 now!

Disclaimer: I don't own this what so ever except Kris Marx and the story.

Ch. 2: Rough Start

With a bit of convincing, Price let me go down to BPD Headquarters. Upon my arrival, Jane took me up to the Homicide division while Maura went down to the morgue to examine the new body. In the elevator, Jane looked down at me as I quietly stood there, waiting; "Did your mother ever tell you, Detective that it's rude to stare."

Jane looked at my smirk, "Actually she did. Did your mom ever tell you to respect your elders?"

"Gee Detective, how about you ask her when you find her grave," I dropped on her. The elevator doors opened as I walked off, having her led me to an interview room. I took a seat as she sat across from me. She continued to look at me while I looked back up at her, "Detective, interview?"

"Right," she nodded as she pulled out her notepad. "You said they spoke in Latin and you know this by…"

"I live in a church, Detective. Latin mass and writings are everywhere I learned it to understand it."

"Are you always like this," hearing the sarcasm dripping from her statement.

I roll my eyes slightly, "Which part?"

"The part of you being an ass."

I ignored the comment but it was true. I was being an ass and all with good reason; even though I knew Jane, I had not learned to trust adults fully except Father Price who practically raised me. "Your killer said the following things, "Tempus hoc vobis hodie consilium reddam coram Deo reus es…" There was no accent, also one of the men who grabbed me had a dragon tattoo."

"Where?"

"On the forearm, it traveled up the sleeve."

"Is that all you remember?"

"Yes then I woke up with you towering over me with your very loud voice." Jane looked at me before sliding a paper to me, tapping on it.

After signing my statement, I walked out of the interrogation room when I heard a distinctive voice, "Kris G. L. Marx." Ah, fuck…I turned around to see a short red headed woman, staring at me with the worse evil eye in the world. My worse nightmare in elementary school: Sister Winifred Callahan.

"Hello Sister," I smiled tensely. She quietly circled me as I notice the whole bullpen watch including Jane, "So Sister, why are you here?"

"I work here now, Ms. Marx and I see that you still haven't changed your Hell raiser ways," she commented. "You still dress like a hooligan in the streets."

God, I forgot how bitchy she was. "Well I do live in East Boston," I commented back.

"And your brother?" I froze and cleared my throat, quietly walking away from the nun, "You will stop right now, Kris Marx. I asked you a question and I expect it to be answered."

"And I have had a horrible day, Winnie. I need to go home and sleep. Afterwards, I have a festival to help at." Sister Winifred looked at me dumbfounded as I walked out of the bullpen into the elevator, just wanting to get out fast.

Jane's POV

I watched the kid leave the bullpen fast; I could only describe her as one thing, a stubborn brat. But that brat had guts to tell off Sister Winnie and by definition, was definitely a Hell raiser.

I walked to my partner, Frost to show him what evidence I got. "That kid is something," Frost commented. I raised an eyebrow as he added, "She's got a sour temper."

I nodded, "This is all we got from her; she definitely can't remember much but, Maura told me that's part of the whole 'I got hit pretty bad' thing."

"Then what do we got if she can't remember?"

"We got this," I slid Marx's witness statement to him. He took it in his hand and began to read as I look at the board; three dead cops all in civilian clothing, GSWs in the head with a small-caliber but Maura said she's not sure until she finds the bullets. That is bad as 'it's a reddish-brown stain' when it was actually blood. "She's the best thing we got to evidence, Frost," I told him.

"The killer is telling them that they are guilty in God's eyes?"

"That is a rough translation according to the kid," I answered back. "So that means our killer thinks he's some judge like he determines who lives or not?"

"But it's not against civilians, it's against cops," he pointed to the first note that sat in the evidence bag that hung on the board. I looked at it as I reread the handwriting for the hundredth time in the last four days.

You are said to protect us when all you do is abuse your power, use us. It is time for them to fall. Its time for the Boston Police Department to fall.

There was no signature, no name, just a simple threat that he's willing to kill cops. I looked at Frost, "Do we know anything about the kid?"

"Not much but that festival she mentioned."

"Yeah what about it?"

"The kid talked, Boss."

"It seems we have a problem that must be dealt with immediately."

"When?"

"Tonight."

Translation: You will pay today...time for your deliberation..you are guilty in God's eyes

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