Alright, this is an AU fic that suddenly popped up in my head. There is no soul society in this, so no hollow side of Ichigo exists!
Summary: A missing person's complaint soon turns into a gruesome murder. A city is torn apart as a series of murders start, each one more horrifying than the one before. The killer has not even left a shred of evidence, except one. A note which says: Until we meet again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor its characters.
Chapter 1: A funeral
Red hair was stuck against his forehead. His brow was dense with the precipitation flowing freely down his forehead. His eyes were all gone red, undoubtedly from strain. The sunlight flashed off his grey orbs, not giving him a chance to look what was in front of him. The sunlight was gentle in a way, not too strong, and the sun later went up in the sky, enabling the person to look up from his position. To any girl, Sora Inoue was a guy worth dying for.
Right now, he was dying.
His would be murderer, was standing in front of him with a malicious gleam in his eyes. They were outside, in the sweet summer smelling woodland. Sora watched on as he removed a match from his pocket, lit it and threw it to the ground
The incoming roar of the fire seemed to tingle his senses, for the person seemed to revel in the sound. He watched as his victim squirm in his current position, hands tied behind and mouth covered. No escape. Both knew the outcome of the final meeting. It hardly mattered to the person who was standing in front of the fire, who looked on as if he was watching some X- rated movie.
The end would come soon, he kept on saying to himself. The flames danced around its victim, engulfing him as a hungry predator would on a hapless victim. His gasoline drenched skin did not help him, it only caused him more agony as the white hot flames lashed against him.
His tormentor continued to watch as the flames went on higher, reaching up to his torso. The person was clearly in pain by now, and made no attempts to hide it. He was quite restless by now, further exciting him. He clearly loved the way as his prey struggled to move out of the way of the encroaching waves of flames, but his bonds clearly restricted from doing so. He had waited from a long time for this moment, and he was savoring every little moment of it. The still held fast, which made a mad grin appear on his face. Ropes would have burnt, but not wires. Sora was clearly helpless.
The fire raged on, consuming it's victim. It had reached the victim's throat.
The smell of burning flesh permeated the healthy forest air, tainting the fresh air which surrounded them.
Strangely, the man didn't even seem bothered by it. It looked as if he was rejuvenated by the smell.
Bricks been stacked waist high, in a horse shoe shape around him. A kiln, mostly to funnel the heat up his body. His eyes never left the dying man. He knew exactly when it would happen. His timing would have to be perfect. The thick duct tape around Sora's mouth started to melt away. Just as their embers faded away, Sora immediately sucked in great amounts of air and opened his mouth to scream.
Only the fact remained that he didn't get to.
Just as Sora had opened his mouth, the person had kicked up hand, his pistol at the ready. The silencer spit out a single bullet which tore through Sora's mouth and into the iron bar behind before coming to a halt.
His head hung limply on his chest, as the flames ate his hair, while even more smell of burning flesh got carried out in the air.
Amidst the sound of the flames, he waited intently, waiting for his most anticipated voice.
Just then, a pop sounded, which signaled that his skull had cracked and sizzled. He adored that sound; it reminded him of popping chestnuts.
He had removed all his jewellery and he played it around his pockets as he watched the embers die down. He simply loved to collect trophies. Nearby him a ditch was clearly visible under the weak light of the early morning sun. It was formerly decided as a foundation for a house, but somehow, the owner had forgotten about his plans.
Dead Dreams.
The sunlight was slowly starting to light up the landscape by now. The person slowly hummed a tune to himself as he scraped the remains of his victim. He took care that none of the bones were damaged in any way. He hated for his collection to be damaged.
Grunting slightly, he carefully laid down the skeleton. He continued humming.
He slammed the blade if his spade against the spine.
The humming was constant.
The metal sliced through shinbone and ankle bone.
The hip joint was shattered.
The humming did not stop.
This time, he caught the shovel with both of his hands as he continued to pound through fingers, toes and knees and every other joint.
He surveyed the damage. Then he surveyed his surroundings. Silence responded him. However, he knew that he had to hurry. The first visitors of the forest would come around by 5:30 and he had half an hour left.
No messiness. No mistakes.
Reaching for his satchel, he removed a vicious looking hand saw. With that, he continued to slice off every joint and bone off clean. Every bone was whittled down. Small enough to bury. Small enough to avoid detection. Small enough to evade capture. Small enough to baffle the police.
After a grueling 10 minutes, the man looked at his handiwork. What remained of Sora Inoue was simply dust and bones. Even the bones could be passed off as small rocks. Only one major artifact remained. The skull.
Grinning widely, the man continued to saw the skull off completely from what remained as the neck.
Wiping off his sweat, he stashed the remains into two plastic buckets, which he promptly mixed with wet mud. The soil had to be wet. It was a necessity. Shrugging to himself, he moved on, passing the foundations of the unbuilt house. He walked on, where he had initially dug a grave for this moment. He promptly emptied the contents into it.
He then took the pains to complete the burial, just as the sky went blood red, signaling the dawn of a new day. He cursed silently, for he wanted to be out of there before anyone came for a stroll.
Completing, his work, he stood back and gazed at it. Removing his cell phone, he viewed again the photos of the corpse he had taken earlier from his cell's portable camera. Sighing, he deleted the last of his photos. He still had the skull, which he had tightly clutched against his chest under the protection of his two arms. Removing a bottle, he quickly downed the half of its contents, while he threw away the rest on the grave. He turned around, and was careful to take up all his equipment back with him. The bricks, buckets, bottle, shovel, and the gun. As he walked on, he wondered if God had indeed heard his silent prayer to free the soul from infernal punishment and horrors of the dark pit. But then again, he asked himself 'Did he really give a damm?'
Miles away, in the city of Tokyo, Orihime Inoue woke up from a nightmare.
Ok, thats it for the first chap. Yeah, this is a somewhat dark crime fic. So brace yourselves.
Yeah, and please review. Tell me how was this chap.