It was dark, as night ought to be. There was a sliver of a moon in the sky, which Darcy had howled at, just for kicks. Most nights - like this one - , Darcy could be counted on to switch his human form for that of a wolf. He was trotting to the outskirts of town to visit Professor Alley again, even if the last visit had ended in a lot of annoyance and sulking.

As he approached, the scent of blood came to his attention, growing stronger the closer he came to Sombra's trailer. He broke into a run when the trailer came into sight, and barged in once he reached it. He scrabbled over to the limp, bloody heap that was the man's body. Even before he touched him, Darcy knew he was dead, but he continued snuffling at him for a few moments, emitting a soft, pitiful whine. The smell of so much blood was enough to make him sick,... and though the blood-smell was overwhelming, he took notice of two very faint but very familiar scents beneath it. For the moment, however, those were ignored.

He... can't be dead...

Darcy shifted forms, kneeling on the floor next to the body and checking, futilely, for a pulse. Finding none, he backed away into the wall and stared for a while, forcing himself to breathe, and to not be sick. After a few minutes, he whispered a goodbye, and shifted back to wolf form. He left the trailer in search of a phone. Already Darcy was playing out the phone call in his head. Hello, someone I know is dead. Do something!

No, that's not right...I've got to get this right...

There would be time for shock (and some serious thought) later.