Hi there! Clockwork Echo (one half of this awesome account) here. So the amazingly talented Emil Lime and I somehow found ourselves writing a collaboration and this was the result! Super happy with this genre and what better exploration than using our favorite men and bringing back a particularly favorite medic from the world of Resident Evil? This Sherlock Holmes inspired tale idea came from Emil and I simply added to it. Both she and I are super excited to have this out and hope to write so much more for this series. Stay a while, it'll be a long ride!
C.E.
I: Three Strikes
"Today's date: Sunday, November third...no hands, feet, or head. Not even a single pubic hair which takes away any attempt of identifying our victim." Rebecca slowly removed her gloves as she spoke, deliberating quietly to herself. The latex of the gloves made a quick snap just before she tossed them into the nearby waste bin; she wrinkled her nose at the odd residue it left behind upon her flush hands, despite being used to wearing latex day in and day out. She released a harsh breath then, and wondered about the logic behind the mangled body pieces that she had examined for over twelve hours now. The more she tried to figure out who had done this and why, the more questions she was left without answers.
'A cliché thought, and yet appropriate here…' she thought, rubbing the back of her neck as she clicked the tape recorder off, ceasing any more commentary for tonight. She removed a pen from her breast pocket of her scrubs and wrote down a few more notes, including a grocery list. An afterthought.
The inside of the autopsy room was cold and sterile as always; she was used to being inside after hours, alone, but tonight seemed more eerie than usual. She sighed and finished to commentate to her tape recorder tonight, remembering to be precise and specific as possible. Rubbing her tired eyes, the young medic zipped up the body bag so she could close up her investigation for tonight; she checked her watch by turning over her wrist and rolled her neck. Time to go.
She slid the cadaver away into the drawer marked "Jane Doe #3", adding it to the two previous bodies that were next to the new body. She took her time removing the rest of her medical uniform just moments before glancing at the window parallel to where she stood. There was a thin sheen of frost already beginning to freeze the glass, a reminder of the season. Humming to herself, Rebecca grabbed her belongings and headed for the exit, turning out the lights and locking the double doors behind her. She stepped out and carefully walked down the steps, pulling her peacoat closed to secure the double-breast buttons.
Snow began to fall as she made her way to her small car, turning the engine over to make her way to the Bridgestone estate.
"Good evening, Ms. Chambers. May I take your coat?"
The young woman greeted William, Piers' butler, with a warm smile. "Thank you, Will. It's awfully chilly tonight." The aged gentleman nodded in agreement as he dusted off flecks of snow from the thick fabric, moving to hang it to dry upon the nearby rack as she walked further into the foyer.
"I just made some hot cocoa, there are marshmallows available as per request by Master Piers."
"Thank you."
"I shall inform him of your arrival, if you'll excuse me, my Lady."
Hearing his footsteps begin to fade in the background of the soft, classical music of Beethoven, Rebecca helped herself to a hot mug like William had offered. She took a slow sip and leaned against one of the granite counters, listening to "Moonlight Sonata" playing on the piano further inside the mansion. It stopped for a moment, breaking her distracted concentration of the soft tones until it continued where it left off minutes later.
"Dr. Chambers."
Wrenching her out of her deeper thoughts, the woman that was addressed looked up from the swirling, cafe-colored liquid at the man that spoke her name.
His face beheld a cool, calculated expression as he watched her, an eye patch hiding his right eye. "Good evening." He kept his hands clasped behind him and stood with a kind of majesty that he's always had for as long as she had known him. His expression beheld a familiar kind of focus that she was used to seeing, and knew he was not the type to exchange pleasantries for very long, if at all. She knew it was just a part of his…eccentric and allusive personality, which made him intriguing to anyone who had the opportunity to have any kind of conversation with him.
She lowered the mug so it was parallel to her chest, still keeping it settled between both of her hands, a thin steam rising up from the beverage.
"Hello, Piers." She offered him a tired smile in response.
Nodding in affirmation, Piers cleared his throat, "This is the third victim that has missing appendages that prevent us from finding out who they are until a missing persons' report is filed." The frustration in his tone was evident as he rubbed his forehead gently, releasing a scoff. "Dammit."
She grimaced out of sympathy, "I'm sorry; their blood work won't be in until Tuesday, but I understand how you're feeling about this."
"I know... But it's clear these women are victims of hatred or obsession—maybe even both. I appreciate you coming tonight."
Rebecca took another sip of her cocoa, "Of course. Anything to help."
It was the telephone's brilliant ring that awoke him from his drunken slumber that night. Lazy eyes drifted open as the high pitched buzz reverberated through the room. It's second ring. Still feeling the pounding headache from earlier that night, Chris pulled the blankets over his head, willing the sound away. It was the middle of the third ring that the drunken man finally got his wish. The ringing silenced and the soft voice of his wife came in hushed tones through the halls. Whoever was calling, he knew Jill could take care of it. Snuggling more comfortably into his bed, he closed his eyes again.
Moments later, the bedroom door opened, though. "Chris. It's for you." Jill had never had a very joyous sounding voice, but her humorless and empty words chilled the man into pushing himself out of bed. She only ever got so cold when one specific person called: Piers.
Shuffling out of bed, he stepped across the cold, wooden floor to Jill, following her out into the living room to pick up the corded phone that'd been laid across the small oak side table. Despite having worked with Piers for over ten years, the man's intensity always caught Chris off guard. Putting the cool metal to his ear and ignoring the trembling in his hands, he spoke, "This is Chris Redfield."
"Sorry to have to call you at his hour, old sport, but have you been reading the paper lately?"
He had. He'd read about the grisly murders, about the three victims accredited to a killer people were calling 'Jack the Ripper'. Oddly, the title fit perfectly, a man going out of his way to rip young woman apart. There were no suspects, no witnesses, only bodies. Chris felt a shiver that wasn't caused by the cold. "Let me guess, you've taken on the case?"
"So you already know what I'm going to ask." It was the only reason the detective ever called.
Sucking in a silent breath, Chris threw a look at his wife. She shrugged, her way of telling him to do what he wanted. The two would never see eye to eye about this sleuthing business, but she would always support his wishes. She'd told him as much during the first case Chris had worked with Piers. That case had nearly cost him his marriage. Only God himself knew why Chris couldn't say no to being involved. "I'll meet you at your estate, then."
"A waste of time. Meet me at the hospital. Dr. Chambers will be filling you in on what we have so far." There was no pleasant farewell or wish of good fortune as the line on the other end went dead. Piers had never been that kind of man. Even when Chris had first met him, the detective had been very stoic and direct. He didn't like wasting time, he always had to be busy with something. Chris, being a psychologist, could see all kinds of issues with that kind of obsessive behavior but he chose not to bring it up. Placing the phone back, he again looked at his wife, the dim light of candles illuminating her in long shadows.
"Looks like Piers has taken up the 'Jack the Ripper' case."
"That doesn't surprise me," she said, crossing her arms. "Go to him, then. I'll give you any information the police department has once I get to work tomorrow." Pacing over to her husband, she delivered a quick kiss before heading into her private office. She was also working on the case via the police department. It looked like neither of them were going to get any sleep tonight.
Chris hurried back into the bedroom, the throbbing in his head dissipating as he pulled on some clothes and threw some water on his face. Once dressed, he passed back into the front room and grabbed his long coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck and slipping on his gloves. Throwing a glance back to the ajar door of the office, he could only see the dim glow of the workspace.
"I'll be home soon, dear. Love you."
"Be careful, Chris." Her way of saying 'I love you, too' as of late.
Stepping out into the falling snow, he headed to his car and got inside. The hospital was his destination. That was across town. He'd have to hurry. Piers was no doubt on his way there and the detective was not a patient man.
The medical examination room of Rebecca Chambers never failed to astound him. Piers walked in behind the small woman, feeling the heat of the building slowly warm his bones. She was busy pulling out the previous victims, laying them out on the slabs and pulling back the body bags. Effortlessly, she prepped everything she needed without so much as a misstep. She was almost as proficient as he was.
That's probably why Rebecca Chambers astounded him more than her examination room. He walked to one side of the table, the young woman busy on the other side. "Do you know what kind of blade was used to dismember them?"
"An early guess," she brushes her hair away from her eyes, "some kind of hunting knife. Your standard kitchen knife wouldn't saw through bone fast enough to be efficient. Chances are, you'd be seen before you could finish the work."
Piers furrowed his brow. "Hunting is a common sport around here. That doesn't narrow it down."
She shrugged, "That's all I know. I'm having some hunting knives brought in. I'll test them and let you know if I can narrow it down from there." He nodded. It wasn't like he could ask any more of her than that.
Stepping around the metal tables, he carefully examined the remains. It was eerie to see the hacked and stumpy neck, the head nowhere to be found. The forearms ended right above the wrist, the lower legs doing similarly. "Stab wounds, probably what killed our victims."
Rebecca nodded, "I would assume so. The third victim had far less stabs. I think our killer is getting better at his craft. He knows where to stab to inflict the greatest damage."
"So he kills them, but why mutilate and desecrate their bodies?" His eyes wandered to the pelvis and its unseen bruises. The door to the medical room opened then, turning Piers' attention away from the deceased.
Standing there was a tall brunette, huffing in breath after breath. Piers raised an eyebrow at his partner, "Did you run here?"
The other man smirked, "Something like that. Mutilation, you say?" He walked over to the detective and medical examiner, looking closely at the dead figures before him. Any reasonable person would have turned away from the sight, but Chris only moved in closer. "Mutilation of the genitalia, usually a replacement for sexual assault. Means our man is probably impotent."
"Precisely why I keep you around, Christopher. Brilliant observation." Piers smirked. "Now, Ms. Chambers, please begin your briefing and don't leave anything out."
Smiling at Chris, Rebecca opened her messenger bag and retrieved the x-rays from her sleek attaché case. Sliding each photograph out, she slid them into the light table mounted on the wall. "Subject one has a broken collarbone, a cracked sternum, and seven stab wounds. Three of them were fatal as it caused one lung to collapse and the other to bleed out."
Chris slid on his reading glasses and looked closer at the x-rays, tracing out the structures with the tip of his index finger, pondering. "How long was subject one alive before finally dying?"
Reaching into her case to get the next set of x-rays, she looked up to address her friend, "I calculated it at fifteen minutes. She shows no signs of struggle and from the contents of her stomach, there were no medications present. Her bloodwork is also clean."
"And what of the other two?"
"Well," Rebecca started, brushing some loose hair behind her ear. "Subject two ended up slowly bleeding out for about half an hour. Subject three, our most recent victim, I calculated at about five to seven minutes."
Piers narrowed his eyes at the paperwork Rebecca had handed him earlier, flipping through it as his eyes scanned over the words quickly. He closed the manila folder and set it aside, gesturing to the doctor to continue her debriefing. She nodded and retrieved the next pile of x-rays. She bit her lip at the scans this time and replaced the first set, following procedure.
"Subject two has deeper stab wounds in the wrists, chest and abdomen. The most definite wound that killed this victim appears to be to her liver. She was an alcoholic."
Piers clicked his tongue at that detail and handed the medical history to his colleague. Chris hummed as he watched Piers pace slowly across the room before turning around again, repeating the process. "The stab wounds and type of victim are the pattern, but the way the genitalia is mutilated is different amongst all three victims. The first one has thick splinters on the inside of the vaginal tissue, this one has bruising and torn tissue that looks like...ground beef—"
"The third one is charred." Chris cut in, adjusting his reading glasses as he took the last manila folder from Rebecca who was setting up the last set of x-rays. "There has to be deeper symbolism for this method of passionate killing. Our murderer is very precise in how deep the lacerations and stabbings are but is especially brutal in the way these women's pelvises and inner organs are completely defaced."
"For a man that is assumed to be impotent, this amount of rage also suggests that his lack of sexual intimacy may stem from his bleak past." Chris rubbed his chin, his hands prickled by the rough, five o' clock shadow he had been sporting for a while. He added that in most of his observations of men that the mutilation of genitalia—male or female—showed a desire that was left unfulfilled.
Rebecca pressed her lips together. She wasn't squeamish in the least as she deliberated with the other two men, wondering where their lead could be with a killer that was so allusive and so...bold.
She wondered why the killer would tear apart the victim's vagina but not the breasts.
She relayed this information to Piers, who clasped his hands together at her comment. He complimented her keen attention before he approached the first body and slipped on the latex gloves without a second thought.
He trailed his hand down the first chest, "Christopher, examine the breasts of the second subject. Doctor, the third. Quickly now."
He pressed down upon the fat deposits and turned to ask Rebecca about any possible surgeries to alter the breast size or appearance. Leaning in closer as he waited for her reply, he narrowed his eyes at the paper thin cut across the left nipple and saw a clear suture sticking out. "Tweezers. Now." Holding out his empty hand, it was promptly filled with the object he requested without skipping a beat. He took his time to keep the surgical stitch intact, clipping one end off and gently pulling to dislodge it while holding down the breast.
Smirking at his own discovery, Piers then asked for a vial to slip the string into. "The suture seems fairly recent. Since she was killed last month, I would put this surgery at the month prior to that."
Chris looked up from his cadaver, "Subject two's breasts are deflated."
"Nothing on subject three." Rebecca nodded, wiping her forehead.
"Nothing?"
Rebecca shook her head, reassuring Piers that she was very certain. Looking over her shoulder as she worked, Piers watched her press the tips of her fingers into the breasts before he finally nodded in approval and moved onto his colleague's Jane Doe.
Leaning over the second victim, Piers worked his hands over the tissue. Sure enough, just as Chris had said, it felt deflated. "Odd," he said before leaning in closer.
Rebecca stood at the head of the table, watching carefully, "What do you think it means?"
"It means," Piers stated, holding up the breast and looking at its underside. A very thin, precise cut was there, right where the tissue met the torso, "That Mr. jack removed her implants." Looking up from his examination to glance between the two of them.
"Why would he do that?" Rebecca asked.
All eyes went to Chris, who furrowed his brow in deep thought. After a pregnant pause, he finally spoke, "Perhaps he doesn't like women who alter their physical appearance. That would explain why our third victim's breasts weren't mutilated."
As he removed the latex glove, Piers muttered, "What a peculiar fellow." He threw the glove into the small, round tin in the corner of the room. His mind was racing over the new material he'd received, processing it and considering every bit of it.
Chris knew better than to try and talk with the young detective when he was thinking through everything and organizing it in his brain, so he turned to the doctor, smiling at her. "Great work as always, Dr. Chambers."
"Well, I suppose. I do what I can to help the investigation."
"You don't have to be modest. You're a fantastic doctor. Without you, we wouldn't have cracked that last case open." Their last case had been a tough one like this, mysterious killings done by a supposed wolf man. It was Rebecca's quick wit and medical skill that uncovered the one thing that finally broke the case wide open. It was no surprise Piers had asked her to be his medical eyes this go around as well.
She gave a shy smile, "Well thank you for the compliment, Chris." He gave a nod, which she returned. It wasn't a second after that, though, that Piers was back beside them, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Chris recognized that stance anywhere. It was time to go.
"Thank you again, Dr. Chambers," Chris stated, smiling at her warmly.
Piers, as if he almost forgot to thank the young doctor, added, "Yes, thank you. We'll be in touch. Let us know if you find anything else."
With that, they exited the examination room and headed out the double doors. The snow continued to fall upon the large city of London, coating the cobblestone streets in thin blankets of white. Chris found it hard to imagine someone was out there plotting his next brutal murder, excited to stain the pure white snow with red. "So, Piers, where to? Despite the comprehensive work Dr. Chambers did, it didn't give us much of a lead."
The young detective nodded, "Yes, this 'Jack the Ripper' is quite the stealthy man, isn't he?" He shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, finding little refuge from the cold there. "Let's start with what we know."
"Which is?"
"These women have yet to have a missing persons report filed for them. That means there is no family or friend who is worried about their disappearance—at least, worried enough to come forward."
Chris raised an eyebrow, "You're thinking these women are prostitutes?"
Piers nodded. "Prostitution is a crime. Why would any of Jane Doe's friends come forward to report if it meant they might be arrested? I think we should start our look in the Red Light district." He walked towards Chris' car, the signal that he was done standing around in the chilled night air. Chris hurried to the driver's side, unlocking his car and getting inside before reaching across to pull the plunger. Piers opened the door and let himself in, giving off a shiver as the two slammed their doors closed. Turning the engine, Chris pulled away from the curb and hit the streets.
Chris had turned a few more corners before he felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket; the only person to call him at this hour was his wife. Jill made it a habit to check in with him to let him know she was home or otherwise needed something from him. Reaching for it and answering, Chris quickly addressed her, "Yes?"
"You won't be home early tonight." She hardly every asked questions anymore, only stated her observation without a second thought.
Silent on the other line as he kept driving, Chris offered a sigh in return.
"Just be safe wherever you are." She promptly hung up then without any attempt at a loving remark; Chris knew he couldn't try to dissuade her attitude towards him—her passive aggressive behavior just felt like more of a burden on him rather than a concern lately.
Without turning to look at Piers like he often would when his colleague was witness to his one-sided phone calls, Chris kept driving until he reached a darkened corner to park, the streetlight overhead flickering. He pulled on the emergency break and forgot that he still wore his reading glasses, slipping them into his coat pocket and hearing Piers shift to remove his seat belt.
"Don't say it. Let's just get this over with."
Piers didn't need to be told twice to know Chris wasn't in the mood to talk. Instead, he adjusted his scarf and tucked it into his coat before exiting the vehicle. The air was chilled as usual, and once Chris joined him by his side, Piers led the way down the long corridor that opened up to the Red Light District.
Being there was like entering an entirely new world; lacquered faces, greasy johns and a smoke-filled atmosphere showed a complete divide between the rest of England and this scandalous place that was hidden away from prying eyes. Only the most curious or lustful found themselves here, Piers and Chris the former—with an investigation to boot.
Wary, Chris huffed as he followed Piers deeper in the district. Some women of various ages approached the pair with sexual propositions as they were rehearsed to do; their efforts were easily ignored as the two men walked past them without hesitation. Piers glanced over his shoulder as he shoved his hands into his pockets, "The first place we'll go to is a brothel called Wonderland."
"How appropriate..." Chris drawled, rolling his eyes.
Stepping inside of the establishment, Piers did what he could to mask a deep cough that was coming on from the clouds of smoke that was beginning to overwhelm his lungs. Chris only narrowed his eyes as they walked in further, approaching the front desk of the shady business.
"Good evening, gentlemen. How can I be of service to you?"
Clearing his throat, Piers set his hand upon the polished counter, "My friend and I are here to speak to your boss, The Red Queen."
Shaking her head, she curled back a few strands of loose hair that had fallen from her topknot. "My Lady is busy at the moment. Perhaps I could—"
Piers retrieved a neat roll of bills from the inside of his coat and set it down in front of her as he smirked in response, "Her schedule is open now. Either bring her here or direct us to her office."
The young woman eyed the bills carefully before picking them up and thumbing through them, examining them closely. After tucking them between her large and mostly exposed breasts, she nodded before disappearing into a large draw curtain behind the desk. The two men glanced between each other but didn't say a word. It wasn't too long before the woman reappeared, saying, "My Lady will meet you in her quarters." Her long, thin finger pointed up a nearby flight of stairs which lead to a balcony. "Last door on your right."
Piers didn't waste any time with pleasantries, so Chris gave a small nod and a sheepish smile. He'd tried having this conversation with the detective before, about how he should be more polite. It didn't go well. Chris figured it'd just be easier to be courteous enough for the two of them. Catching up to Piers, the two headed up the stairs and across the balcony. Doors littered the right wall, various noises coming from beyond them. The older man couldn't stop a blush from crossing his face, one that didn't go unnoticed by his colleague. As they reached the last door in question, Piers turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Honestly, Christopher, you're acting like a child."
"It's just embarrassing, is all. It's like these people have no dignity."
The young detective studied him for a second before speaking. "Christopher, I'm not a psychologist but I would think you're embarrassed by sex because you aren't getting any from your wife. Is she pleasing you?"
Chris' eyes nearly popped out of his head. Hissing out his words in a quiet voice, he responded quickly, "Piers, that's really none of your business."
"It is my business if my partner is distracted. If you need, I could talk to her for you. While we aren't exactly on good terms, I'm sure I could—"
"That won't be necessary," Chris rushed out, tugging on his scarf. Was it getting hot in here?
"Then I'll pay for you to be accommodated here."
His face turned every shade of red possible. "Piers, really. I'm alright. Thank you, but you don't have to do that for me." His partner's face stayed painfully neutral, eyebrow still raised in a questioning—and almost mocking—manner. "Really. Let's just speak to this Red Queen."
After another beat of silence, Piers finally turned his head back to the door. "As you wish." Giving a firm knock on the door, Piers didn't bother waiting for a reply before opening. The inside of the room was large and grand, a huge bed sitting in the middle of the room with blood red sheets resting on top, it's golden frame shining in the candle light. The walls were painted like a deck of cards, the Queen of hearts sitting behind the bed, the face on the wall matching the face of the woman sitting on the bed.
"Gentlemen. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable." She stood, her tall, curvy frame scarcely hidden beneath the thin vale she had wrapped around her body. Her bright red lips, painted in the shape of heart, smiled at the two of them. "Can I take your coats?"
The two shook their heads before Piers spoke, "We're not here for pleasantries, ma'am." Her long arms crossed her large chest as she looked Piers up and down.
"A shame." In an instant, the sexy and enthralling act dropped and she looked like a tired middle aged woman. She stepped over to a vanity that sat to the side, playing cards glued around the frame. She scrubbed at her makeup, pulling away fake eyelashes. "So what are you here for?"
Digging out the image in his pocket, the detective stepped over to the Red Queen. "It's about 'Jack'."
"I don't know any 'Jack', sorry." Piers held the image up to her and she turned to squint at it in the candle light. Her annoyed expression quickly changed to that of shock. Pictured there, in the photograph Rebecca had taken, was the three bodies laid out on the metal slabs, their mutilated bodies exposed. The Red Queen's eyes quickly flitted from the image to Piers. "You mean 'Jack the Ripper' then?"
"Have any of your girls gone missing recently?"
She leaned back from the mirror, frowning and crossing her arms. "Straight to the point, aren't you? You must not be very fun in bed."
"Your girls, Madam? Any of them missing?"
Flipping the dark hair from her face, The Red Queen huffed, "One of my Alices is missing."
Piping in, Chris took a step forward, "Alice?"
The Red Queen shrugged, "That's what my girls are called here, in case you missed the large sign outside."
"But one of them is missing?" Piers asked, tucking the photograph back into his pocket. "When did she disappear?"
The woman tilted her head to the side, calculating up the days. "About a month back. She didn't report into work and none of my other Alices knew where she was." The woman walked over to the curtained window, pulling the black cloth back enough to peer down into the busy street, hazy with cigarette smoke and neon with the businesses that took up residence there. "I've been reading the papers, but I keep telling myself that she found a new life, met a John and moved to a new city, something."
Chris felt his heart sink. It was her responsibility to keep her Alices safe and yet, here she was with the glaring truth staring here down in black and white print every day. "I'm sorry, madam. Do you know anything about what she was doing the night before she disappeared? Where she might have been heading?"
She shook her head, "She turned in her money from the evening and I gave her her cut of it. She was headed home, most likely. Some of the women like to hang out after work but most just go home."
Gently, Chris spoke, "Where's 'home'?"
The Red Queen sighed, brushing a stray tear from her cheek before turning to address the men. "If I help you, you'll find this son of a bitch?" Piers nodded but didn't say a word. Stepping away from the window, she hurried over to her vanity, pulling open the bottom drawer of it. Inside were small note cards, stained yellow with smoke. Her thin fingers flitted through them before pulling one out. "Here. This has her name and address on it." She stood, handing it to Piers who took it.
Glancing over it quickly, Piers tucked it into his pocket. She continued speaking, "The other two girls. I think I know where they're from."
Chris' eyes widened, well aware Piers had only shown her one photo and didn't mention any other victims. "Really?"
"We Madams, we like to gossip. Normally, when a girl runs away, she comes back a couple days later when she realizes this world isn't going to be kind to her. But there are girls who never come back…"
"Tell us where we can find their Madams."
Contrary to the overly red-saturated inside of Wonderland, the next brothel the pair had visited appeared to be the complete opposite. After speaking with the aforementioned Red Queen, Piers and Chris found themselves inside of the equally notorious Crystalline Slipper. Piers recalled the madam that owned this place was across town, in a mirroring district. The third, Leather Fantasies, also shared that property—convenient for the investigation.
The trip to The Crystalline Slipper was quiet for the most part, up until Piers' couldn't help commenting on his colleague's embarrassment once more. Eyes trained on the dark asphalt before them as they drove, the young detective cleared his throat nonchalantly, "Are you sure that your marriage is wholesome with Jill? You're absolutely certain?"
"Piers—"
"Christopher, it's normal for a man to have a higher sexual drive than their wives or girlfriends. You have been married to Jill for nearly ten years now—approximately the same amount of time we have known one another. Perhaps the two of you aren't being more...sexually creative?"
Chris ground his teeth in response, "I really don't want to talk about this right now."
"Have you even had the chance to sit down and bring this concern up to Jill?"
Not wanting to "entertain" Piers' invasive curiosity, Chris was glad to be able to park the car, shutting the engine off and jerking the keys out of the ignition. He was out of the vehicle before Piers even reached for his own seatbelt, slamming the door and walking towards the entrance of the next brothel.
Seemingly more refined than Wonderland's odd and somewhat unnerving atmosphere, The Crystalline Slipper was at least slightly less tense by comparison. Most of the women were dressed in French-styled dresses; layered skirts and uncomfortable corsets on every working woman, their hair curled and straightened of various lengths and shades. The theme appeared to be more regal and masquerade-like, each woman adorned a different, elaborate mask to both accentuate their eyes as well as give off a mysterious impression for any kind of customer.
One in particular had approached Piers, but only got so far as to open her mouth before he raised a hand without directly telling her to cease and desist any attempt of sweet-talking him. Naturally insulted by the quick rejection, the young woman huffed and turned away to give her attention to another man that had entered moments after the detective and psychologist did.
Piers wasted no time to climb the light-blue carpeted staircase to the only room up there, the double doors marked, "Queen Butterfly". 'Royalty again...' he thought as he rolled his eye, knocking with a firmly closed fist.
The doors opened not a moment later, and he stepped in, Chris quickly behind him. The second owner was informed by the Red Queen of the men's arrival, but her reaction was very different to the photographs that were shown to her. Using a large fan to try and cool her despondent expression, she removed her masquerade mask that was in the shape of a large, exotic butterfly, true to her identity.
"My lovely Ella... I...I remember the night she had disappeared. She mentioned finally finding her Prince Charming." She wiped a stray tear from the corner of her mascara-lined eye, moving to get a tissue so the makeup wouldn't smear more.
"Yeah. 'Charming' indeed. We're sorry for your loss, but do you remember where she might have been going and who was with her? Did she leave alone?" Chris pressed as Piers put away the photo in his pocket.
The madam fanned herself more while shaking her head. Chris then asked about distinguishing marks since the three bodies were still unidentifiable.
"I always hated those tattoos on her back, but she kept them covered while she was on the clock here, preserving the integrity of The Crystalline Slipper...who could do this to her?" She moved to retrieve a picture of the deceased from her file cabinet.
It was an old, Kodak-styled one, but the shape of the body was uncanny. Her face beheld a soft glow that complimented her high cheek bones and heart-shaped lips. Her eyes were a striking blue, her delicate blond hair like that of an angel. The tattoos along her torso and back were cut out in her post-mortem photo, and from what Queen Butterfly offered to the two, Ella was also a dancer who wrapped her feet, a college student that lost her way. Her toes in particular were extra wrapped from what her boss knew, only ever asked to remove them so she could fit her high heels.
"Please find out who did this to my dear Ella."
"We will track the murderer down; 'Jack' can't hide forever." Piers reassured the woman and bid her farewell, Chris also following suit by thanking her for the information.
"So, Mistress Zhanna—"
The sharp crack of the ninetails against a male's clenched buttocks cut off Piers' initial line of questioning. Maintaining his composure as best he could, he raised his hand to clear his throat as another crack of the whip rained down upon the submissive male that was also in the special room. The stereotypical persona that was adopted here was certainly a lot more peculiar than the first two, and also contrasted them but kept its own character at the same time.
"Do not look at my pig, he's receiving his punishment vether or not you are present, by my hand. Isn't zat right?" She clicked her tongue, her accent as authentic as they come as she raised her cat-o-ninetails again and whipped him with it.
The male arched in response to the treatment he was receiving, drool pooling at his knees as it slithered down his chin from chapped, parted lips. His eyes were glossed over from the whippings, loving the painful, pleasurable sensation that caused his body to shake as she raised the whip once more, his body waiting in anticipation for her "punishment".
Chris couldn't help himself as he covered the lower half of his face, poorly hiding the intense blush that swept his gruff visage. He couldn't believe this was happening, and was now regretting not staying in the car for this visit. Zhanna smirked at him, fully aware just why he was embarrassed and loved it all the more. She set her dangerous, spiky stiletto upon her submissive's back, pressing him harder against the cold concrete floor as she slipped the whip back against her belt to lean forward and adjust the ties of her thigh-high boot.
"Yes...my leetle Dove, a beautiful submissive. Skin as vite as snow, ze brightest of green eyes. She vas simply perfect." Reveling in the memory of her lost employee and "daughter", as Zhanna claimed, she tsked and clapped her hands, attendants coming to her aid to take the male away and prepare him for the "Wall of Shame".
"My secretary, she vill give you ze photo of my leetle Dove."
The walls seemed to be paper thin as pleasured and pained moans filled the stale air between the three. Adjusting her torso corset, the gold rings of her nipple piercings shined against the strobe lights overhead. Her full, perky breasts were in plain view the entire time as the three discussed her deceased employee; she seemed unfazed by the fact Chris couldn't look at her directly in the eye when Piers could with relative ease. Her confidence in her body was plainly evident as she walked to another part of the bondage room, signaling the men to follow her lead.
"Dove vas one of my hardest verking veemen. I adored her. She could take pain and extra hours... She loved getting her hands and ankles cuffed, tied, chained, bound almost every vay."
"That explains the raw marks along her joints." Piers included, noticing Chris flinch at another sound of a whip and string of insults from the next room. His hands were clasped tightly, his shoulders tense beneath the thick material of his trenchcoat. Even his ears were as red as cranberries.
"Anything else you need for my Dove, gentlemen?" Zhanna finished setting up the thick chains on the wooden cross apparatus of sorts, turning around and impulsively holding Chris' chin hostage by one of her leather, fingerless sleeved gloves.
"You've been awfully quiet, Dr. Redfield," she started, her lips painted an alluring burgundy. "My eyes are up here, you know." Winking, she found great pleasure in flirting with the timid doctor, allowing him to slip out of her grip as he shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy.
"N-no ma'am. It-it looks like we have what we need."
"Thank you for seeing us, Mistress Zhanna. 'Til we meet again." Bowing at her presence out of respect, Piers managed to close the conversation to alleviate his colleague's torment, deciding it was time to go home, deliberate the new intel they gathered and then inform Rebecca in a few days.
The moment the pair stepped outside of Leather Fantasies, Piers couldn't hold in his laughter any longer, the deep tenor of his voice coming from his diaphragm as he kept cracking up, much to Chris' annoyance.
"Stop laughing dammit..."
"Oh, Christopher." Piers rarely ever laughed so hard, but this very time he did seemed awfully appropriate. "I couldn't handle seeing you like that for much longer, and I certainly didn't want to laugh in front of Mistress Zhanna."
"Shut. Up." Chris huffed and crossed his arms, his pose and expression possessing the likeness of an adolescent. "It's not funny."
"You amuse me sometimes with your uptight and overly shy personality. Lighten up, chap." Piers smacked his hand against the back of his friend's back, still laughing but the tone was quieter as they approached the car to go home. He reminded Chris that since they had the info they needed, they could now begin connecting the fragmented puzzle pieces together.
Soon, Piers, Chris and Rebecca would get to the heart of this dark scheme. It was only a matter of time.