Baltimore Blood

The early morning sun struggled to break through the thick blanket of grey clouds hanging over the City of Baltimore. Captain Dirk Wells shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his crumpled trench coat as he surveyed the scene. Dirk Wells was a scruffy middle-aged man, around 5’ 10” and of medium build. He had salt and pepper hair which he wore in a short, shaved style, simply because he couldn’t be bothered to do anything else with it, like the rest of his appearance. He was of Irish descent. However, being born in the USA he had no Irish accent to speak of. Not what you would call the “life and soul of the party” kind of guy, but grumpy to his very core. The hum of distant traffic mingled with the sickly scent of damp earth and something more acrid, something that gnawed at the back of his throat. It was the all too familiar smell of blood and death. “Another one, eh?” Shelley Riley, his partner said. She was around 35 years of age, 5’ 6” tall and of slim, but not skinny, build with shoulder length chestnut hair that had a mind of its own, her hazel eyes carefully and skilfully scanning the area. She was a mild-mannered attractive woman, the very opposite to Dirk’s sul