The Devil's Due
Rival private investigators bound together by strange cases where danger blurs logic and the unknown
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MONDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1970 – 10:37 PM
MITCHELL INVESTIGATIONS, OAKHAVEN CITY Rain drummed a steady, lonely rhythm against the glass and brick. Honey paused under a streetlamp that sputtered against the gloom, its light catching the faded gold lettering on a second-story window: MITCHELL INVESTIGATIONS. The scent of asphalt followed Honey inside as the door creaked open, mingling with the office's atmosphere: old paper, stale coffee, and the faint, sharp tang of gun oil. Karen Mitchell didn’t look up from behind her battered desk. When she finally spoke, her voice was a dry, sardonic drawl with a New York edge, her eyes still scanning a page.
MITCHELL INVESTIGATIONS, OAKHAVEN CITY Rain drummed a steady, lonely rhythm against the glass and brick. Honey paused under a streetlamp that sputtered against the gloom, its light catching the faded gold lettering on a second-story window: MITCHELL INVESTIGATIONS. The scent of asphalt followed Honey inside as the door creaked open, mingling with the office's atmosphere: old paper, stale coffee, and the faint, sharp tang of gun oil. Karen Mitchell didn’t look up from behind her battered desk. When she finally spoke, her voice was a dry, sardonic drawl with a New York edge, her eyes still scanning a page.
You're late.She closed the manila folder with a soft finality and slid it across the desk's scarred surface. A dramatic, blood-red stamp on the cover read UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA.
Got another one,she said, her tone dripping with skepticism.
The usual: odd reports, unanswered questions, stories that don’t add up. Could be nothing, could be trouble. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.She leaned back. Her trench coat was shrugged off just enough to reveal the worn leather holster of her Colt 1911. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight: I handle the crime scene. You chase down the local bullshit stories, or whatever it is you always do."