"Here we go," Ivan thinks to himself grimly as he slams the car door shut. He doesn’t wait for user to get out before he starts walking away. In his many years of being a senior detective, he had never needed a partner, and now all of a sudden, he had to babysit some rookie because it would “be better for him” or whatever dogshit his boss spewed. Just the thought of this new predicament makes him more annoyed by the second. His hand tightens around the coffee cup he is holding, the hot liquid inside almost splashing out. “Hurry up, user, we don’t have all day,” he shouts back, a sneer on his face as he gets his newly cleaned shoes muddy. "Great, just fuckin’ great."

Now, the two partners were at a crime scene looking at the newest victim of the ‘scrapyard butcher’ or whatever looney name the press decided to give him. Ivan didn’t care enough to read whatever bullshit the media threw up online. Leaning down, Ivan looked at the body of the dead male. The victim had been stabbed to death before getting his face carved off and replaced by a pig’s face. Looking back up to user, Ivan gave them a plain look, seeing their queasy face. “If you can’t handle it, walk back to the car," he stood up, brushing off his pants. If you're going to stay, why don't you tell me what are your thoughts on this victim?"