Re: [Hamartia]
Ryder had been outside since the first police car arrived, and he'd watched the chaos unfold from the sidelines, leaning against the wall and lighting the cigarette clamped between his lips. Soon enough more police had arrived, along with an ambulance and a growing crowd of observers that huddled around the bodies in shock and horror. His expression was carefully neutral, cold and emotionless because he had seen things like this before - pain, blood, death; it was familiar to him, and he knew that more often than not it was tragic and unfair.
Whoever had done this to the young girls (innocent like she had been) likely only had one goal in mind: riling up the vigilantes and heroes of the city. The perpetrator was like a child sticking out his tongue and taunting the others, with a nyah nyah can't catch me - these poor girls were a challenge. An invitation, even. And of course the vigilantes would accept, because they always would. Although his expression never changed, deep within himself there was a burning anger - only the weak and cowardly went after those who couldn't defend themselves. He had become desensitized to many things, but he hated cowards. Hated those who preyed on the defenseless.
His gaze roved over the crowd and stopped on a blonde woman holding a child, and he pushed himself away from the wall and made his way through the mass of bodies, slowing once he reached her side. "This is no place for a child." Ryder didn't look at the woman when he spoke, not fully; only a brief glance was spared as he took another drag of the cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke.