Spawn: Noir

Damn. This is the 3rd stiff in a week to show up in these god forsaken alleys. What it is about this place that just draws death. I wouldn't want to be one of these bums when this kind of shit goes down. Bullet riddled corpses round every corner, and me, with a rookie partner staring at them like steak dinners.

Limbs thrown around like bad jokes, blood painted on the buildings like some freaks own personal death mural. Something was going on here, and it ain't good. And I have a question. The same damn question that's bothered me since the first wise guy decided to have his ticket punched in front of this here restaurant.

Why in Jesus h Christ's name is it on my beat.

Dumb luck I guess.

Same damn luck that made that bastard Santa Claus stiff me outta that tricycle when I was five.

My partner, a rookie, decided to ask the bums some questions. I figured I'd let him and see if I could get a kick out of it, at least laugh at something.

''Has there been anyone suspicious in the alleys recently'' he asked. With a pen in his right hand and a small notepad in his left. Scratching something I bet is about as unimportant as what the smelly bastard in front of him was going to say. The pencil in his hand made a polygraph noise by the second.

The homeless guy had on a pair of mismatched loafers, a grungy pin striped shirt, with ratty matted down hair tucked under a soiled knit cap. This guy couldn't have fit the cliché anymore if he tried.

''You got any dough?'' he asked my partner. A typical question that I got my first few months, and I used to fall for it, then I learned the bastards never knew a damn thing, and it was a waste of money.

''No sir, this is a police investigation, we don't do that sort of thing'' that was surprising, but what wasn't, was the reaction.

It's the first time he'd been baptized in a homeless persons piss.

Welcome to the force rook.

''Thank you for your time, I appreciate your help, and stay out of trouble''

The bum said something along the lines of 'fuck off' before returning to his fridge box for some sleep. No more than twenty feet from where some scum's body was dumped.

I let my cigarette make a flick of light when it hit the ground. The butt's taste was still on lips as I lit another. A pack a day I always say.

The taste soothes me in ways that this job needed. The rookie waved the smoke from his face as I breathed it out. He had a few age lines for someone barely in his twenties, small lips, very womanly but stern. I let the smoke blow in his face. I hated pretty boys.I figured the stubble under his nose made him look like Hitler. He hated it was I said that. But I bust his balls like an ex-wife just to keep him on his toes.

Soft, I need to break him.

''So any luck with the stiff?'' I asked. My gruff voice usually made guys nervous. But this guy never let me know if he was. The bastard didn't even twitch when I pulled my gun out on him before to test his reflexes.

''Hey Twitch, Im talking to you'' I nicknamed him that since he doesn't. I thought it was clever.

''Im sorry, Sir, I was looking over my notes.'' He said.

''According to my notes, The man whose body parts are so carefully strewn over the alley, is Johnny ''the goat'' Triviotti, aged at about 19. Second son of Hugo triviotti the 2nd, known drug trafficker and high number runner.''

Damn, the runt knows his business, He wasn't paying the smelly guy any mind at all. He was keeping him away from the crime scene, and took notes of things around him. How?

''Well why don't you give me the man's dick size while you're at it, What is his pancreas doing between the sports pages of some bums pillow'' I said, I wouldn't tell him I was impressed. Even if I was…a little.

''That sir, is the question that I cant answer as of yet. Im still trying to make sense of the strangulation marks'' he said

Strangulation marks? I didn't notice it at first, but when I look a little further, I realize again that he was right.

''They look like chains marks'' I said. I hoped that I impressed him this time. The marks looked like tire treads across his neck. Sorry way to go if you're a good person, justice for a scum bag like him.

''If I may sir, I would like to take some pictures of the victim'' he says

I tell him that's not his job, but I figured that he had his reasons. While his flash bulbs sparked the darkness of the alley, I sparked up a fresh cigarette. The taste of the tar couldn't cleanse the bad taste I had for this case. What the hell did this?

And did I want to really find it.

Twitch took about twenty five pictures, getting closer to the body parts than I would. I like to keep my distance from corpses. Can't beat the truth out of them at that point, so my interest isn't there.

''I was wondering if you'd get your ass down here''

I heard the voice behind me, like the sweet sound of a old hag whore asking for a tip after she skinned you with her teeth.

Chief Banks, a bastard of a bastard.

Long time cop, Long time soldier, Long time pain in the ass

''To what do I owe the pleasure, Banks'' I asked. I never called him chief, ever. In my opinion he never truly earned the position. Given the spot after the original Chief found himself on the unfriendly end of the mob boss Tony Twist's favorite goons bullet. The just as much of a bastard, Jason Wynn pulled the right strings of the right ass and we got a new Chief of police. A spot I long earned.

Instead

I got myself in charge of the last five rookies of the force.

Up until Twitch, not a shred of potential was in the lot of em.

''Well, I'm sure as hell not here to hold your gun, Burke, What's the details. And they better be damn good''

If only I could pistol whip the smirk off his face.

''Well, As you can tell by the no longer attached body parts, we gotta a no longer breathing Johnny ''the goat''. From the Triviotti family. Third from that family to be dumped in this alley in the past week. My guess is someone from the other families are picking em off one by one to take over this turf''

I don't like giving my assumtions to that prick, I was saying it to him since I wanted Twitch to know what I thought anyway.

The cigarette butt crunched under my foot, barely audible over my annoyance for the chief.

''How's the rookie, what have you found'' he asked him, I could have punched him right there.

(End first chapter)