Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Sophie Ellison woke up with a start, struggling to open her eyes.
Nnh… my head… what happened? Where am I?
Sophie tried to rise to her feet, and discovered her wrists were bound. A bare bulb shone overhead, just barely illuminating the dingy corner of the cold and dark room.
The last thing I remember is the club…
Turning her head, Sophie could see a man standing at a workbench, a white, featureless mask covering his face, with two eye slits being the only defining features. The man was decked out all in black: black jeans, a black hoodie, black boots and a pair of black gloves. Sophie's frail mind instantly drew a connection to Death, and not surprisingly either.
The man had not noticed her yet. He was focused on methodically laying out some tools: a scalpel, a palette knife and a bucket.
Oh my god… oh my god!
Sophie's heart was pounding out of her chest so hard that she thought the man could hear it. Her breathing quickened in panic as she examined the whole room for some kind of way of escaping this nightmare room.
Just to her left, Sophie could barely make out a narrow flight of stairs. Using the corner of the wall as a brace, she unsteadily rose to her feet and quietly made her way towards the staircase.
For one brief moment, Sophie thought she would escape. That everything would be okay and that she would go home, see her family and friends again, and everything would be back to normal. Sweet normal.
The step creaked.
The man sprang into action as though some unfathomable deity had just pressed his 'On' switch. Spinning around and dropping the scalpel, the man charged towards Sophie, who had already begun racing frantically up the stairs.
With her heart in her throat, Sophie swung the door open and stumbled outside.
"Oh my god…" Sophie uttered in defeat.
She was standing on the deck of a boat, gazing out at the rocky shores of Alcatraz Island. The rain poured down in bucket-loads and thunderclouds boomed just on the horizon. The ocean spray stung against Sophie's cheeks as she struggled to take in just where she was. What was going to happen to her.
No escape.
No… no!
The masked man emerged from the lower decks, holding in his left hand a syringe. Looking down, Sophie could see choppy waves pound against the hull and, for one brief moment, she considered just jumping in and denying this sadistic man the satisfaction of murdering her.
He was going to murder her.
She was going to die.
Sophie Ellison was going to die out in the middle of the ocean and no one would ever know what had happened.
Accepting the fact that Death had come for her filled the teenage redhead with a strange sense of confidence.
"You won't get away with this!" She yelled, inching further and further away from the every-approaching psychopath in front of her. "If you hurt me, the police will come after you!"
The man spoke for the first time, his voice completely muffled by the mask to the point that there was no hope of recognising the voice. "I'm positively shaking."
He took another step towards Sophie who, in panic, wildly swung her bound hands at him.
"Get away from me, you… you…" Sophie began, struggling to find a word hateful enough to even possibly embody her feelings of defeat and anger.
The masked man grabbed Sophie's wrists and forced her to the ground.
"No more running." He ordered calmly.
With surgical precision, the man jabbed the syringe into Sophie's neck, eliciting a scream from the young girl.
What did he just give me? I feel…
The world blurred around Sophie. Without warning, her body went limp. Paralyzed. She could just barely make out the man picking her up and carrying her back down the creaky staircase to the nightmare room. She couldn't even feel his gloved hands on her back.
He laid Sophie on the workbench and, stroking the side of her face with his right hand, reached out with his left hand to grab a tool that Sophie, through her blurred vision, could not even recognize.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." He reassured the half-unconscious teenager. He dipped a palette knife into a bucket, applying a layer of plaster across Sophie's pale face. "I'm just going to show the world your true face."
The masked man continued to work, covering her mouth and nostrils, but leaving her eyes for last. Sophie struggled, but she couldn't move. Her limbs lay dead at her sides as her lungs began to burn for air.
I… I...
Her vision began to dim.
Th… I… dead…
For one brief moment, the sensation she felt was almost a relief, like stepping into a hot shower for the first time on a cold winter morning and letting the relaxation wash over you. Sophie felt her troubles slipping away.
Then the darkness swallowed her.
"Come on, Diego, what are you waiting for? I don't have all day." Beck Oliver urged the man sitting across the dirty, wooden table from him. Beck was sat in a back-alley bar in the middle of a game of Texas Hold-Em Poker.
The heavily tattooed young man sat across from Beck, twitching nervously.
"I'm thinking, man, I'm thinking…" He replied so softly that Beck could hear the blaring TV hanging from the corner of the ceiling over Diego's voice.
"The serial killer dubbed 'The Maskmaker' continues to elude capture, frustrating law enforcement…" The reporter read out.
"Hey, you hear about this Maskmaker guy, Beck? Killing girls, making masks out of their faces… pretty sick, huh?" Diego averted, turning towards the TV.
"How about you leave the detective work to me, Diego, and focus on the game? You gonna make a bet or not?" Beck insisted with growing irritation.
Diego glanced at his two cards, and a grin spread across his face.
"Sure, I'm in for thirty." Diego confirmed.
Beck looked down at his own cards. Nothing but a pair of fours, but Beck's gut feeling was that Diego had even less. Having been taught from a young age to always trust your gut instincts, Beck bluffed.
"I raise a hundred." Beck said confidently, eliciting a bewildered stare from his opponent.
"What? No way, man, you… you don't got it. No way you got anything." Diego denied nervously.
"Then call it, Diego. Put your money where your mouth is." Beck persisted, a subtle smirk forming on his face.
"Ahhh, screw this, man. I fold." Diego sighed in defeat, placing his two cards on the table as Beck reached across and gathered up the pot.
"Cheer up. One of these days, your luck will turn." Beck consoled the frustrated man.
Diego reached over and began to shuffle the cards as a tall, muscly man strode over to their table.
"Beck." The man greeted with a slight nod of the head.
"Well, this is unexpected. What are you doing here, André?" Beck quizzed his old friend.
"I had a feeling I'd find you here… gambling away with these other shady, unkempt lowlifes." André said, looking around in disgust.
"Hey, I might be shady and a lowlife, but I'm very well kempt." Beck joked with a chuckle.
André shrugged the joke off. "Anyway, the Captain sent me to find you. You're needed on a case."
"I thought I was suspended until the end of next week?" Beck pondered, confused.
"You were. Now you're not" André informed him bluntly. "Let's go."
"You got suspended?" Diego asked, "What'd you do?"
"None of your business." Beck dismissed the question. "Now beat it, would you? I've got work to do."
"Whatever." Diego scoffed, rising from his chair and storming off.
"What's the big rush, anyway?" Beck questioned his colleague.
"Captain Vega wants you to head up the Maskmaker Task Force." André answered.
"Since when is there a Maskmaker Task Force?" Beck chuckled.
"Since we just found another victim. Let's go." André replied as Beck got up from his seat and quickly pulled on his coat. "Oh, and by the way…" André continued as he and Beck walked towards the door.
"Yeah?"
"It's good to have you back, Beck." André finished, cracking a smile.
Half an hour later…
Beck drove his car down the streets of San Francisco. Sitting in the passenger seat was his superior: Captain Tori Vega.
"I gotta tell you, Captain, as much as I'm glad to be back, I thought Detective Blackwell was handling the Maskmaker case." Beck pondered.
"He was when the victims were all prostitutes. This new one's a college girl. When the press gets word of this, the public is going to go crazy. And whether I like it or not, you're the best detective I've got." Tori admitted with a shrug.
"I appreciate it." Beck said.
"That doesn't mean you're off the hook!" Tori warned the detective. "I want this one by-the-book, Detective. You understand that? By-the-book."
"You've got my word. I won't let you down, Captain." Beck confirmed with a nod as he pulled out at a junction in the road.
"Good. And you might want to let your wife know you'll be home late." The Captain suggested.
"Yeah, I'll, uh, give her a call in a bit." Beck quickly replied, clearing his throat with a small cough. "First, why don't you give me the basics on the case?"
"This is the third murder matching this M.O. we've had in three months. The victims were young women, age 20-25, who washed up dead near the waterfront." Tori informed Beck. She let out a deep sigh, and continued. "All of them had plaster masks molded to their faces. We can't definitively ID this latest victim until we run her DNA against a comparison sample, but the student ID in her wallet says she's Sophie Ellison of Stanford University." Tori let out another exasperated sigh as Beck nodded, absorbing all the vital information she was giving him. "I've already called the tech team. They'll fill you in on this victim when we get there. Any questions?" Tori finished.
"I'd like some more information on the murders." Beck pressed the matter, wanting to gather as much information as he possibly could in hopes of making some kind of link back to the case.
"All three victims are Caucasian females in their early 20s. The first body washed up on a beach north of the Marina. The second was caught in nets near Fisherman's Wharf." Tori said.
"What was the cause of death?" Beck asked as he pulled the car to a stop at a red light.
"The cause of death for the first two victims was strangulation. The masks were made post-mortem."
Beck nodded in understanding. "Any sign of a struggle?"
"The first two victims exhibited no signs of a struggle, no signs of sexual assault. Both victims had traces of chloroform in their systems." She continued.
"So he drugged them, strangled them, and then made masks of their faces?" Beck asked, quickly driving away from the street lights as they turned green.
"Exactly. For all we know, the women were knocked out when they died. They may not have felt a thing." Tori theorized.
"How very gentle of him." Beck remarked sarcastically. "Any leads?"
Tori sighed in irritation. "No. That's the most infuriating part. Forensics has found nothing on any of the bodies. We've got no witnesses, no DNA, and no perps in our system with priors matching this M.O. Our killer is precise, methodical, and extremely efficient. He knows who to target and how to cover his trail."
"He'll slip up. They always do." Beck reassured his Captain as he pressed on the brake at another red light. "I'll catch this guy, Captain."
"I hope you can, Detective… before he kills again."
A few minutes later…
A cold breeze blew over Beck's face as he and Tori arrived at a series of run-down docks just a few blocks away from Fisherman's Wharf. By the water, Beck noticed an all-too-familiar sight: a circle roped off by police tape and a huddle of grim-faced officers.
Beck and Tori pushed past several officers and walked into the circle. Lying on her back by the water was a young, well-dressed girl with a firm plaster mask molded around her face.
"Ah, hell…" Beck cursed under his breath.
"The body was found by some fishermen coming back from their morning trawl." Tori spoke up, her arms crossed across her body for warmth. "Judging by the look of her, she spent the night in the water."
"She was dumped in the ocean… but the mask stayed on?" Beck pondered in confusion.
"Believe me, we're having a hell of a time getting it off. Our killer knew what he was doing." Tori insisted.
Beck walked cautiously towards the body, when a young, dark-haired woman in a dark suit stepped out from the circle and snapped a picture. Beck held his arm out in front of her to move her away.
"Miss, please step away from the crime scene." Beck ordered her professionally and calmly.
"Well I would, but that would make doing my job more difficult." The woman replied, reaching into her pocket and flashing an FBI ID badge.
"You're with the FBI?" Beck questioned.
"You're got a serial killer on your hands, and the Bureau sent me to assist with profiling. Are we going to have a problem?" The feisty woman asked with a obviously threatening undertone.
"Captain?" Beck turned to Tori.
"I didn't expect them to get someone out here so fast, but yes, I head we'd be receiving assistance from the Bureau." Tori confirmed. "Do me a favour and play nice."
"I'll try not to bite." Beck promised dryly, turning towards the woman and offering his hand. "I'm Detective Beck Oliver."
"Special Agent Jade West." She mirrored the detective, shaking his hand firmly.
"So is it okay if I call you Jade?" Beck wondered out loud.
"You can call me Special Agent West." Jade responded coldly, a scowl emerging on her pale face.
"Well, Special Agent West, mind if I examine the crime scene?"
"Be my guest." Jade nodded.
Beck squatted down to get a better view of the victim.
"She's got no visible wounds on her. No sign of bruising around her neck, and I'm not seeing any head trauma." He examined.
"Even her clothes are neat." Jade pointed out in an almost fascinated tone, squatting beside Beck. "No rips or tears, no obvious signs of struggle… unless our killer meticulously dressed her, I'm betting we get no evidence of sexual assault." Jade's eyes suddenly lit up. "Hmm… that's interesting. This murder is different from the previous victims." Jade pointed out.
Beck nodded in agreement. "You're right, the cause of death is different."
"Yes, that's absolutely correct." Jade confirmed in a tone that sounded… almost impressed?
"The other victims were strangled, but this girl has no bruising on her neck. So how'd she die?" Beck pondered.
"Drowning, maybe?" Jade suggested.
A lanky man in a white shirt approached the pair, his black curls almost bobbing as he walked.
"No, she couldn't have drowned. There's no fluid in her lungs. The victim was dead before her body entered the water." The man dismissed the theory with confidence.
"Uhh, Special Agent West, I'd like you to meet Robbie Shapiro, our forensic technician." Beck introduced the two as Robbie offered out his hand.
Jade never noticed the gesture as she was too busy examining the body. "Well, if she didn't die from drowning or strangulation, what killed her?"
"Look here." Robbie said, pointing a long, pale finger towards the victim's neck. "See this tiny welt? This indicates the victim received an injection just prior to her death."
"The chloroform?" Jade asked.
"No, if this victim is like the others, that was administered via a cloth over the mouth." Robbie discarded the possibility. "We're also seeing some signs of asphyxiation. Look at the petechial haemorrhaging behind the ears. That would suggest her airways were obstructed."
Beck's eyes lit up as he pieced together the clues in his mind.
"Son of a… he killed her with the mask!" he exclaimed.
"Come again?" Robbie replied, quite bewildered.
Beck leaned down, gently moving the girl's head to the side, and touched the edge of the mask.
"Look how tightly it's plastered onto her skin. My guess is he drugged her, plastered over her face, and let her suffocate to death." Beck theorized.
"Then this crime is even more different than I thought." Jade remarked, her façade of confidence slipping momentarily. "He made the mask while his victim was alive instead of doing it after she died..."
"He's evolving." Beck observed grimly.
"Exactly. And when a killer this precise, this methodical, this disciplined, still has room to evolve…"
"That's trouble." Beck concluded.
"Yeah. A lot of it." Jade agreed, the scowl on her face growing again.
"Hey! Beck! You might want to see this!" a colleague of Beck's grabbed his attention as he held a blacklight over the body. "Look what I found on her arm!"
The officer shined the blacklight on the inside of the girl's wrists, revealing a stamp. A circle of animals from the Chinese zodiac.
Beck clicked his fingers in recognition.
"Wait a minute, I know that stamp. That's from the Zen Club in Chinatown. It's an upscale bar and karaoke club. Given how crisp the image is, I'm guessing she was there last night." Beck informed the others.
"Someone there must have seen something." Jade said.
"Well, Special Agent West, looks like we just got a lead."
Like it? Hate it? I've never given Bade anything close to this much attention before in a story (not including my parodies of them in That's So Original!) so that's something to consider. Leave a review and let me know what you think!