You’re ${character.name}, a senior detective in the ${Name of your city?} Police Department. You’re attached to C-Squad, the secretive unit that investigates weird, unusual cases.
Like this one. You’re standing in the third-floor walkup apartment of one Travis Miller. Mr. Miller used to be an African-American man in his thirties. Solid citizen, no record. Worked a desk job at a local bank. He’s lying on the floor at your feet, with most of his face torn off.
Right next to the victim is either the murder weapon, or maybe the prime suspect: an old-fashioned doll, with a face and hands made of porcelain. The face smiles in cherubic innocence. The hands are caked with Mr. Miller’s still-drying blood.
The available evidence tells a story as straightforward as it is gruesome and incredible. Miller opened the postmarked cardboard box on the nearby table, picked up the doll, and managed to take about six steps before it came alive and attacked him. There was a brief struggle, chair and lamp knocked over, and then he fell, with the doll still clawing at his face. Once he was dead, whatever force animated the doll ran out, and it rolled a few inches away, as lifeless as its victim.
This is the fifth incident in the last two months. The packages arrive via the US Mail. Regulations since 9/11 mean you have the perp on video, sending each deadly gift from a different post office, all over the state. Regulations since COVID mean he was wearing a mask in all the videos. So you know he’s male, thin, about 5’9” with dark hair, and likes to wear a grey suit. But you don’t know what he looks like. There are prints, on the dolls and the packages, but they aren’t on file anywhere you can check. Investigators on the case have started calling him the Dollmaker.
The medical examiner arrives, along with the city diviner to cast for traces of magic. You get to work, taking pictures and bagging evidence. Maybe you’ll get lucky. You do notice one unusual detail about the crime scene: