Wilson's face contorted into something completely different. His flesh protruded, the skin that separated the vibrant red with his darker tone of skin quickly contorting as his height and face altered.
Medium-length black hair flourished, sweeping gently and framing a pair of green eyes that was accompanied with dull, pasty skin. As if the person was on the verge of dying from blood loss.
Prematurely slumped forward, the arched back was deceptive, possibly making people assume that said person was shorter than actually. Wilson groaned, his voice - once deeper - becoming lighter.
Grace wondered if the identifier would perceive the person in front of him as someone different, and he soon attained his answer once he faced the ring towards Wilson, identifying.
[Wilson Gray]
Despite the change in appearance, height, and even the mana that exuded from his body--he was still recognized by the item identifier as Wilson Gray. There was no doubt in Grace's mind that this was something that could determine a person's identity, but the numerous steps in order to get to this line of thinking hindered chances of this occurring in the future.
Wilson reverted back to his regular self, his face convulsing into hideous little protrusions of flesh before forming his usual facial structure.
"Now that we have his face--the hunt begins."
~~~
Quantum City, Unknown Area.
Click!
Click!
Click!
Fingers flew, dancing along a keyboard as the keys were tapped with dexterity within a dark room. Completely pitch-black, the only thing that was creating any sort of light was the starkly contrasting screen that was shining a brilliant luminescent blue hue.
A figure was present, seated in front of the screen, a hoodie draping over their torso as green eyes reflected against the luminescent blue. There was breathing. A soft, gentle rhythm. But there was an erratic layer that shone directly underneath the soft, gentle rhythm.
"Hot."
A male. His voice light like a fleeting feather of a bird. Taking a deep breath and long exhale, he tore free from the hoodie that entangled him, tossing it to the floor of the dark room, the blackness engulfing the homogenous color. Underneath the fabrics of the hoodie, was a man with medium-length black hair.
They framed his face perfectly, magnifying the green eyes that shone against the luminescent blue. Hunched back, he stared intently as he began typing loudly once again.
"Next..."
His eyes darted, looking through images of people. Young. Old. The age did not matter to this man. But, he was specifically looking for a specific person. Amongst the sea of people that he scrolled pass. Their faces became blurs of motion until he stumbled upon the person he was looking for.
Short brown hair that was slicked back with a thick brush of gel, the man shared an awkward, revealing smile.
Directly underneath the image was the person's name.
[Brian Ern]
Finally, his eyes glint with a putrid rage.
"You're next."
~~~
Wilson was a calculated individual. Every step of an investigation - depending on the severity of the situation - had to be approached with caution and attention to detail. However, he also understood that risks were needed in order to gain progress.
Leaning against the exterior of the car, Grace and Wilson saw many kids and adults walk around the street, utilizing unique transportation methods that Grace could only dream of seeing before entering this world.
"Let's recall everything we found first," Wilson began. "This is the third victim and all three victims can be linked to Typhoon Electric Company. This is indicating that there can be a vendetta in specific to targeting these workers. The vendetta? That is something we'll have to look into. But good thing that I've already relayed this information to my colleague."
"When did you find the time to do that?"
"A few minutes ago."
Throwing his phone towards Grace, the boy caught it effortlessly and looked at the content of what the phone had to offer.
[Ken Wats]
[Age: 23]
[Reportedly committed suicide a five ago. Letter was left, but body never found. Mother died six years ago during a bank robbery. Her name is Daisy Wats.]
Grace, reading through the file, figured - from the obvious information given - that the time between his supposed "suicide" and now was the precious time that Ken had encountered the Black Veil Goddess.
"Could he be affiliated with the Cult of Perfection?" Grace asked.
"Possibly. Black Veil Goddess is an uncommon God to be a devotee for. Moreover, her prayer is usually not handed out in this region of the continent. Much further towards the west in the mountains."
Grace frowned.
Many things were becoming possibilities. And his control over the narrative during these moments slipped further and further away from him.
"The workers," Grace spoke. "Do they work for the main part of the company? Or do they belong in a branch office?"
"Good question. I'll get to it." Grace handed back Wilson's phone and the latter began to call his colleague. Once his colleague answered the phone, Wilson began to discuss more on the details on Ken.
Once the call was finished, Wilson turned to Grace again and answered his question.
"These workers belong to a branch of the company that is in charge of distributing the products to stores. It's not too far away from here."
"Should we go to there right away?"
Wilson shook his head.
"Yes and no. We will go there, yes. But we will be doing different things once we get there."
Grace raised an eyebrow.
"What will we be doing?"
Wilson smirked, prompting Grace to gain a bad feeling about the upcoming situation that Wilson was going to put them - or him - through.
"I will be on the look out nearby the shipping building."
"And me?"
Wilson, planting his hand on his face, tore out the Veil of Mercury and threw it to Grace. Grace caught it with his left hand and stared back at Wilson.
"I want to test you," Wilson answered. "The best way to reel in a prey like Ken is to create confusion." A small, sly grin made its way through Wilson's lips.
"I wonder how will Ken react once he sees the dead walking."
It was not the most optimal plan objectively speaking. Putting Grace in this role would place him in a situation where he is more likely to die than if Wilson was the one masquerading as a dead man.
But...
With a role like this--Grace knew that Wilson was placing a certain amount of trust in him to be able to fulfill this duty. Whether it was a dangerous thing that could completely end him, Grace had no intention of backing out.
After all, deception was also a useful tool.