Greetings readers! For 'tis I, Blue Lone Wolf! Here once again to fill my time with something other than writer's block issues, and you with something worth reading (and hopefully) and reviewing when you're feeling modest. This new story should fill the void in both our heads, as well as inspire me to update more often. But right now, I just hope you guys enjoy what's in store. Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist in any shape or form, but I have a friend who wants Mustang. Not if I get him first evil chuckle … okay I'm done now. Enjoy!!
"Iii" speech
Iii thought
"Iii" radio/telephone speech
Chapter 1: New Neighbor
Retired military colonel now big city detective Roy Mustang leaned against the railing of his porch overlooking the busy streets of New York. Letting out a lazy sigh, watching cigarette smoke float away only to be swept out of sight by a cool breeze, Roy stared coolly at the sight of the city's colossal river stretching almost like a giant lake across the horizon, tiny boats floating on its surface almost like toys. Calmly blowing more cigarette smoke into the open air, the raven-haired man scratched the back of his head as night black eyes barely even took in the beautiful view before him.
Thin white shirt making small snapping noises in the small gasps of gusty winds, open at the collar as he stood in shiny black office shoes and suit pants that matched his shoes, Roy took another lungful of smoke before letting it come out from between his teeth only to notice that the cigarette in his hand was more than half gone, he grumbled something inaudible even to himself as he rubbed the lit end onto the concrete side of his balcony before flicking the remains of the cigarette over the side, absentmindedly watching it vanish into the wind and shadows of the big city skies and streets.
He, like many of the Boys in Blue of the NYPD law enforcement, knew that despite the gorgeous scenery he got to look at every day, there were hundreds of mean, nasty people hiding in the shadows and muck of the countless buildings within his line of sight. Mainly because some guy jacked up on some methamphetamine shot and killed his friend and (much to his annoyance) overly happy partner Maes Hughes, leaving him to tell the man's wife of her husband's downfall. It was now three years to the day and she'd forgiven him about two years before.
Letting out another lazy sigh of fatigue and boredom, Roy turned around to got back inside his apartment and out of the slight chill of early autumn winds when a flash of gold caught his eye, coming from the normally empty apartment next to his. Just when he'd thought it'd been a trick of the light, the flash of bright color came again only to vanish just like before. A little confused at this, Mustang chose to shrug it off and enter his silent apartment, a bit unkempt from lousy hours of only being able to stick around for less than eight before heading out of to spend the remaining sixteen on the streets or in the office, looking for the latest murderer or rapist.
--Meanwhile, Next Door—
There was a small layer of dust, but dusting and sweeping could easily solve the issue before it got any worse. Smiling triumphantly at convincing the landlord to rent out the apartment to his older brother, Alphonse Elric turned to smile at said brother standing at the glass door that allowed them both to see the top of hundreds of other buildings and the river glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. His long blonde hair shining in the light coming in from the outdoors, Edward Elric turned to his younger sibling with a smile that he'd been hoping to see all day.
The older boy's smile was enough to make Al happy for the rest of the day. "This is great Al! Thanks for gettin' that old man to let me stay here."
Alphonse set the box in his hands down onto what appeared to be the kitchen counter, the kitchen itself just to the right of the hallway leading to the door. "It was nothing brother. Besides, just be glad he's making you pay half the normal rent until you get settled with a good job."
"I know but look at this! You can see the frickin' river from here!" Ed said in awe of the sight. It was apparent that he'd never really been in such a large metropolis before his younger brother did.
Al's smile of triumph widened to almost a grin as he spoke again. "Knew you'd like that brother! One of the best views in the city."
"Thanks again Al." Edward said as truthfully as possible before coming away from the back door across what seemed to be the living area.
"Let's get you unpacked." Al said coolly before opening the box in front of him and began to set out the contents onto the remaining countertop space.
Ed's reaction to this was almost immediate as his stride became a little faster. "I thought I said that I didn't--!"
Before he could say more, Al cut him off with a determined look, making him stop in his tracks and blink in surprise. "And I say you do! Now go explore some more while I help Winry bring the rest of the boxes upstairs."
"O-okay." the teen said grudgingly as he watched his little brother turn and vanish out the door before he spotted the doorway to another hall to the left of the kitchen. Not wanting to get scolded again, Ed decided to make his way through to see what kind of rooms there were to deal with. Other than the main bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, there was an extra one two doors down back towards the kitchen, one of which was a closet of some sort and another seemed to be a guest bedroom. The two others opposite these doors were what appeared to be either more guest bedrooms or storage rooms. What they were exactly he didn't know but he was sure that would take some time figuring out later on.
The sound of his shoes on the smooth wooden floors echoed throughout the barren apartment. He only regretted that his little brother and his girlfriend, Winry Rockbell, were there to help him move when he wasn't even allowed to carry his own belongings into his new home. Memories of his younger sibling were still a bit fresh in his mind, making him cringe at how he'd searched for the boy for years. Having been separated after their mother's death, Ed had to fight like hell to learn where his brother had been sent. Not to mention he'd given up a long while back on trying to find their missing father after he left, and didn't come back.
Ed glared at the barren wall in front of him at the memory of the middle-aged man who always had a sad expression on his face for some reason. He only knew that his mother was crying almost all the time after he was gone for more than two weeks, how she practically cried herself to sleep over him. Memories of how she began to act strange once a year had gone by, how she grew weaker by the day, how they watched her fade when he and his brother tried to give her soups that were more like boiled water with veggies and meat bits floating in it. She smiled no matter how much she coughed, no matter how much they told her they'd tried to follow the recipes in her books as well as their little minds would allow. Two weeks later, she wouldn't wake up at all. Because their father couldn't be found and the two were only a year apart, Ed and Al were sent to different foster homes, Ed desperately insisting that he be put in the same home as Al or at least the other way around. Naturally, his pleas went ignored as the days became weeks, weeks became months, and months transformed into years.
And now… we're finally back together again. He thought to himself as he left the room he was in to come to a stop in the hallway, looking left and right before heading deeper into the apartment. The master bedroom was bare, like all the other rooms in the place, except for an old bed frame with no mattresses on it. Sweat dropping at the sight of this odd visual, Ed merely shrugged it off.
I've got a futon from my old place anyway. I'll just put that thing into storage or somethin'. Putting such a note into his subconscious mind, Ed left the room and started walking back towards the living room. Upon coming back into the wide space, he found Al and Winry already there, carrying another set of boxes in their arms.
Light, lemon yellow hair and kind eyes of green, just like the photos Al had shown him about a month before, Winry Rockbell stood next to her boyfriend as she looked up from inspecting the contents of the box she'd brought in. Her face, smooth featured and glowing with unnatural warmth, brightened with a smile as she spoke in a predictably excited manner. "Oh! So you're Ed! Nice to meet you! My name's Winry."
He smiled kindly at her, vaguely wondering how his own little brother had managed to find such a girl. "Hey. My brother's not too much trouble for ya?"
"Ed!" Al yelled, a dark red blush stretching across his face. He barely noticed the light blonde girl holding back an amused giggle.
Al's blush deepened a little as Winry replied. "No, he isn't. But he talked about you a lot when he didn't know where you were."
"Oh really? What about now?" Ed inquired, giving his younger sibling an amused stare from across the room.
"He talks about you nonstop." She said, making Al turn a beet red with pure embarrassment as he turned to her in protest.
"I do not!"
"Is that so?" Ed asked, pretending he hadn't heard Al trying to cover up his own actions by silencing his own girlfriend.
"Yup!" the girl said, also ignoring Alphonse as she started giggling again. Al just looked like he was about to die of humiliation via chatty girlfriend.
"Winry!"
"Oh calm down! I'm just messin' with ya. I'll be right back with some of the other boxes okay?" she said coolly, giving Al a peck on the cheek before going out the door, Ed raising an eyebrow at how quickly such a move washed away his brother's look of shock to that of numb affection.
"Yeah, I'll be right behind you." he said, trying to shake his mind of the recent conversation and what'd just happened.
Turning, he found Ed staring with a knowing expression on his face. Feeling the blood rush back to his face again, Al felt like a deer caught in the headlights all over again. He couldn't help but wonder just what it was his older brother was thinking at this very moment. For all he knew, that amused smirk on Ed's face was a bad sign.
"What?" Al inquired, suddenly feeling nervous under a strange gaze as this.
Ed's smirk became a foolish grin within seconds. "You're only what? 22 years old now and already you've found a girl that can shut you up in less than two seconds? I'm impressed bro."
It became wider at the sign of Al's face turning completely red. "J-just start unpacking! I'll be back with more boxes."
"Okay. Just don't take forever making out in the elevator." He said to Al's retreating back, the comment making the younger boy to turn and yell.
"ED!"
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding already!" Ed exclaimed between chuckles and snickers of amusement.
"You better be!" Al called before vanishing out the door.
Edward just chuckled whole-heartedly as he approached his new kitchen counter to start assorting the box's contents. But he paused. It'd been possibly over ten years since he'd even tried to laugh 'whole-heartedly'. A little confused at this, he tried to think it over more clearly. Am I just glad to be living somewhat with my brother again? Or is it just that I'm happy to be able to tease him?
Not wanting to be unpacking on into the night, Ed opened the first box closest to him and began to pull out a stack of carefully packed dinner plates. Even though they were plain white and made of whatever clay/porcelain material that was used, he was glad to have found them on sale for 50 off. If not, he'd have fainted at the price they'd been several weeks before. Managing to get those put into a safe spot and out of harm's way, Edward began to personalize his new world.
--With Mustang—
The case he'd been working on lately was being a real pain in the ass. Truly, painfully and indubitably a real run for his money. And his fellow officers at the precinct were just as stumped as he was. Not to mention the fact that the scenes were not only nauseating, but downright confusing. It was more than just plain bizarre. It was absolutely impossible. Especially how the unknown murderer(s) were leaving their scenes as nothing more than bloody messes with barely anything to show that the large amount of splatter had once been a person.
Now sitting at his desk in one of his spare rooms, Roy took another drag of a new cigarette he'd lit upon coming inside, his midnight black eyes staring down at the crime scene photos. If he didn't know any better, he could swear that the pictures contents was done by a clumsy artist trying to impress him with random blood spray and gooey remains of teen or adult human beings. Every time he stared at the photos from the files in front of him, Roy knew from experience that the real scene was worse than the photos could ever pull off. They didn't have odors. Photos didn't have rookie and semi-vet cops rushing past the yellow tape to lean against their cars to hurl up their latest meal.
More importantly, there weren't annoying onlookers and hysterical family members, friends or spouses trying to force their way past the other cops and the tape to see if the person who was lying on the street like an old newspaper was someone they'd not heard from in a certain number of hours. On a normal basis, Roy could easily question these people to see if the person they knew was indeed the deceased lying in a pool of their own blood as if it were make-shift lake water worth swimming in during the summer months. On such a routine did many cops depend on the victim to at least be clothed and in one piece. But other times they only found them in pieces. That was fine, as long as they managed to find the rest of the body.
Problem was, this case was just plain strange, outright bizarre and purely weird down to the letter. When found, the victim wasn't just nude or in pieces, but was reduced to a violent spray and bloody smear on the ground and walls. Whenever coming onto these scenes, Roy caught himself wrinkling his nose at the sight of bits and pieces of flesh and bone clinging to the sticky, stinking blood on brick walls almost like plaster made of your annoying neighbor. Roy, personally, had never had an annoying neighbor of any kind. But he suspected that this was where most ended up when living next to someone with anger issues after exercising one's liberties a bit too much.
Dark eyes scanning the photos in the light of his desk lamp, Roy leaned an elbow in a purely relaxed manner onto the black cherry wood as he calmly tapped ashes into the tray somewhere on his far right. Looking at each photo, the seasoned cop could easily see how solid, one hundred some odd pound human being could be turned into a mix of cherry gelatin mixed in with bits of pig meat, its bones and several buckets worth of dried stage blood. After seeing some pretty grisly murders, Roy was only slightly disgusted at the sight of this new atrocity. He knew that he had to figure out how the killer(s?) were turning normal people into pails of red goop and fluids.
Sifting past the scene photos, Roy brought forth what few records on only three of the near eight victims. They'd been normal people. Living perfectly normal lives and bothering no one. Well, except for one but he was a bit of a druggie dealing with withdrawal symptoms at the time of the assault charge. Beyond that, the rest of the victims might as well have not existed at all compared to how some people had red flags floating over their heads.
He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing. Not his cell phone. No, he'd turned that off and it was charging somewhere in his kitchen. Or was it his bedroom? Oh well. It didn't really matter anyhow. I was planning on gettin' some coffee anyway. He thought vaguely, taking his sweet old time to rise from his chair and mumble to himself on how he forgot to put a phone in his office room. Shrugging it off for the moment, he reached his bedroom in time for the fourth ring to go off before he sat down on his bed and picked up the receiver.
"Yeah?" he said coolly, letting out another exhale of smoke into the air of the room as if he didn't have a care or a reason to be there.
"Mustang?" the familiar and lazy voice of Lt. Havoc, made obvious by how his voice sounded, not to mention his own laidback exhale of smoke from the other end of the line.
"Speaking." Roy said just as coolly as before.
As if on cue, Havoc's voice changed to one of rough experience. "We have another scene sir. You should probably come down while it's still fresh."
Roy allowed the pause to stretch a little before he sat up a little in his desk chair. "How long ago?"
"Possibly… four… five hours? The mortician is still trying to determine the T.O.D more accurately." Havoc grumbled from the other end. Roy let out a sigh. He knew better than anyone that these odd and grisly scenes were making their mortician and coroner Kain Fuery work his ass off for his paycheck.
"Same as the others?" he asked suddenly, taking Havoc off guard.
"Y-yeah." the lazy blonde stammered, practically hating the fact that their serial killer was back to his grisly games.
Mustang didn't even wait for the man to recover. "Where are you?"
This time, Havoc was quicker in responding to this question. "On 9th and Main. And come quick. We're startin' to get a bit of a crowd out here."
Considering that the last two sentences were whispered told him that his fellow officers were indeed trying to deal with the quickly mounting attention. Which meant that he'd have a hell of a time just trying to reach the scene some time after finding a parking space. "Be there in twenty minutes."
Without waiting for a response from the other end, Roy almost instantly hung up on the poor man before taking his sweet old time rising from his chair. He was king of his castle after all, even if he was just a detective from the local police station. Stretching a little bit to get some of his blood flowing, Roy went to search for his shoes and jacket. Within a span of a few minutes, putting a 1920's fedora on his head over his short jet-black hair, detective Roy Mustang left his single's apartment for the busy streets of New York.
--With Ed—
It'd only taken them thirty minutes to unload all the boxes from the truck and bring them to Ed's new apartment via the apartment building's elevator. The only things remained now were the furniture. Problem was, the largest of these couldn't exactly fit into the elevator even if they tried. Which led them to have the movers use the stairs in the hopes no one would be trying to use them when they came through. Much to their relief, the stairways were perfectly empty. Their torture: the building was six stories high, Ed's being on the fifth. The three teens offered to help, except the seasoned movers declined saying it was their way of getting exercise. Not to mention they had the right to do what they were being paid to do.
Before the hour was over, Ed had a well-furnished apartment despite all the unpacked cardboard boxes everywhere. Other than this, the entire living room was in disarray from being filled with Ed's many journals and books on an assortment of subjects. To compensate, they found that he'd also many shelves to house them in, many of which went into one of the spare rooms, hiding the walls entirely. From what he could tell of his research, he'd be able to teach at one of the local schools long enough to gain tenure. If not, he was willing to move again. But not without making sure he kept in touch with his little brother first.
Luckily, he knew such a thing was a long way's off and probably wouldn't happen anyway so for the moment, he decided to just enjoy catching up on lost time with his little brother and learning just how the hell he managed to find a girlfriend.
As said little brother was choosing to explain. "… So next thing I know, she's looking down at me with this smile on her face like she's just witnessed the most amusing thing on the planet! About five minutes later, were in the cafeteria, talking like we're old friends! Can you believe that?"
"I'm part of the story and I can't help but not believe what I'm hearing." Winry said with amused chuckles, leaning against Alphonse with a triumphant smile on her pale face.
"Haha very funny." Al deadpanned, not looking too amused even though a ghostly smirk made itself at home on his lips.
Ed just laughed, almost slapping his knee before speaking. "Still gotta hand it to ya bro, you two stick together long enough and I just might have to get used the mighty title of 'uncle'."
Winry blinked in surprise as Al turned beet red. "H-hey now! Isn't that looking too much into the situation?"
Laughing a little harder now, Edward smiled mischievously at his younger sibling in a way that made Al look a little scared. "What? You two make a great couple! Just be sure to name one of your daughters after Mom though. I'd hate for such a good name to go to waste."
Somehow overcoming his sudden fear, Al tried to think of a good comeback that would throw his older brother off balance. "Brother! Even I know it's too early for that kind of premeditated occasion! Besides, if you want us to get married so bad, why don't you come with me to find the right ring when you've got spare time?"
"Huh? No! Absolutely not! That's your problem, not mine!" Ed said quickly, knowing now he'd dug himself into a pretty deep hole. Winry just giggled at the look on his face, knowing her boyfriend had won the first round.
"Then let's keep it that way shall we?" Al said coolly.
"Fine, fine. You got me," the older blond said, rolling his amber eyes in annoyance at his brother's remark. "But seriously, do you two have any plans at all?"
"Not just yet but I think Al just might have something hidden up his sleeve, don't you sweetie?" the light blonde girl inquired, her expression filled with mischief as she squeezed Al's arm, bringing her nose dangerously close to his.
Ed and Winry could only laugh as Al stammered nervously, yet another powerful blush turning his face a bright tomato red.
--Twenty Minutes Later—
With more than half the many box's content strewn all over the place and in complete disarray, the couple managed to make it to the door for one last goodbye for the night. As Edward held the door, Al gave his older brother one last reassuring smile. "So if you need anything from us, you can call this number or just come up two stories to 12G okay?"
Taking the proffered piece of torn notebook paper, Ed smirked at the sentimental move as he pocketed it for later. "Gotcha. I should be able to finish organizing by myself but I'll probably need help job hunting."
Al just smiled a little wider. "See you tomorrow brother."
"It was nice meeting you!" Winry said, giving the blonde teen a kind grin and a wave as she let Alphonse gently lead her towards the stairs.
"Bye." Ed said in turn, shutting the door with a tired sigh, golden eyes turning to face the chaos that was his new home. From what he could observe of the huge mess, the majority of the clutter was made up of books he rarely even used anymore, notes that now made no sense to him at all as well as the few knickknacks he'd collected over the years only because their shape and colors interested him in some way or other.
I can probably sell the books and throw away the notes… or just put them all in storage for later or somethin'. Yeah…. some of this crap might actually be useful sooner or later. He thought to himself, using a hand to rub his chin.
Taking a step to reenter his new home, his golden eye spotted the umbrella stand that either Al or Winry had found in the moving truck somewhere. One or two old umbrellas stuck their tired and cracked handles into the air, leaning towards the wall until otherwise brought out for use. The newest one, which he'd snagged a month or two before, was pointing its handle at the ceiling just above the front door, as if eager to be taken outside and used to near death. But the one item that wasn't an umbrella caught the blonde's attention: the cane he'd been forced to use now and again since he was nearly seven years old.
Memories of how, at first, he'd been forced to use a chair, and then a walker made for the elderly but smaller to suit his height. Simply remembering such hard years seemed like a zap of static electricity compared to actually living them. To him, they'd been pure hell and close calls to falling to insanity. Wincing at his dark thoughts, having promised himself to avoid them in his new start, Ed passed the umbrella stand with a small chill running up and down his spine.
--With Mustang—
Traffic had been slightly mild for that time of day, a bit on the odd side but also the good, making his arrival to the scene only take at least fifteen minutes. With at least two extra minutes to spare, and absolutely none to lose. Somehow finding a parking space amidst the already parked cars, the parked black and whites and the many paparazzi vans, Mustang managed to step out onto the late afternoon street to find that the press and passerby weren't the only observers: people from all over were sticking their heads out of windows and from behind curtains to look down at the many cars parked outside their buildings. Some even jerked back inside when they noticed Roy looking back up at them.
Choosing to ignore these high level rubber-neckers, he adjusted his hat enough to hide his eyes from the flashing lights of cameras and annoying voices of reporters and journalists trying to get his statement on the matter. Somehow avoiding cameras and microphones coming his way from all sides, Roy was able to reach the scene beyond the yellow police tape without too much of a hassle.
Upon reaching said tape only to calmly step under it, flashing his police detective's badge at the nearest cop who tried to bar his way from going further, Roy was met by the owner of the lazy voice who he'd spoken with on the phone mere minutes beforehand. Jean Havoc was probably lazier than he was, and still held onto the slightly military haircut that'd set them back ten years in styles. Almost dirty blonde hair set in natural spikes on top with dark chocolate brown highlighting the back of his head, Havoc let his gray eyes fall on his superior.
A smirk upon his face, a few bristles from his lack of shaving sticking out of his chin as he spoke with a lit cigarette still between his lips. "Huh. And here I thought it'd take you forty instead of fifteen. This case mean that much to you already?"
Roy just shrugged it off. He was just doing his job after all. "Bradley wants it closed so I'm gonna close it. It's not like I really wanted to take this case to begin with… but there's too many odd things about it."
"So you are interested." Havoc said in amusement, his smirk growing a little wider as he walked with Roy towards the opening to the alleyway. They paused at its entryway before he decided to speak.
"At least until it goes cold." Roy said just as smoothly, pulling out a half empty pack and a lighter from his jacket pocket. Ironically, it was a trench coat that went perfectly with his fedora of a hat. It wasn't his fault he fell in love with the old black and white mystery films when he was a kid.
Havoc merely shook his head as Roy lit his latest cigarette, staring off into space as he pocketed the pack and lighter again. "I don't know… at this rate? I'd say you're gonna be workin' on this the rest of your career."
"Don't jinx me." The raven-haired man growled, night black eyes throwing daggers at the other officer.
The dirty blonde haired man just laughed at this, knowing his counterpart all too well by now. "I have worse luck than you do. That ain't possible."
It was Roy's turn to smirk between drags of the cigarette. "Only in love Havoc, only in love."
"Do you have to burn me with that one every time you show up?" the man inquired, now looking perfectly miserable.
"Only because you bring it up." He said smoothly, the smirk having vanished from his pale face, calmly continuing their walk into the alley were similar murders took place. "So what do we have exactly?"
Havoc grimaced but answered his superior anyway. "Same as the all the others that we've had to clean up. Ugh. Sometimes I just want to barf whether I'm actually there or not!"
Unlike Havoc, Roy was able to remain cool without going green from disgust at the bloody display before them. "Get over it Havoc. You and I both know we probably saw worse that this in the war."
"I don't know. This guy's pretty sick for a serial killer." Havoc grumbled as he turned back to face the street and reporters hoping to get a better look at the grisly mess behind him.
"Havoc. All serial killers are sick. Mentally ill as it turns out. This guy has something against the people he attacks, so he's using it as a motive to do what he believes to be his task in the world. Or whatever kind of bullshit religious crap he might have goin' through his mind right now." Roy deadpanned coolly.
He'd dealt with another, but slightly less dangerous, serial killer who'd been a bit too enthusiastic about everyone joining the church where he used to go before his girlfriend dumped him, went into a depression and went insane from bad thoughts and too much drug abuse. Roy had indeed solved the case, but not before the man decided to try and blow both their heads off with a hunter's rifle. They'd suspected that it was really a cult who was killing people and leaving them nailed to their own walls on crucifixes painted onto the wall with the victims blood, crowns of thorns adorning their heads as they stared off to some odd direction with looks of surprise and agony on their dead, frozen faces. Roy avoided the local church for a while after that.
"That's some seriously fucked up shit." Havoc muttered, having vaguely recalled that particular case of his own accord and was now very much regretting the fact that he'd let himself remember at all.
"When you've been working the way I do for as long as I have, you'll find that a lot of the things I deal with are indeed 'seriously fucked up'."
Falling silent, Roy forced his dark eyes to stare down at the carnage that spread itself on the ground and high up onto the brick wall. As usual, the smell of blood and rotting pieces of flesh was everywhere. The blood itself looked as if someone had taken pretty good aim with a giant paintball gun and found out they only had one round to fire at their target. And the target was the alleyway where cops rummaged around, looking for answers while trying not to throw up.
All the while, Fuery, their mortician and precinct coroner, was moving around from spot to spot, using a strange needle with a digital meter at the end to poke into the various pieces of flesh lying around. It was apparent, from Roy's experience, that he was attempting to local the person's liver to determine the true T.O.D.
Time of death. The thought had always bothered Roy. But only a little, never a whole lot. Not to where he couldn't go on or anything, but to where he had to wonder just who the hell wasn't doing their job to ensure such things didn't happen. In this case, it was him.
"What's the verdict Fuery?" he asked between drags of his cigarette, not even bothering to exhale the smoke before speaking.
Kneeing next to a rather large piece of torn flesh, short, spiky black hair glistening a bit in the weak light due to sweat, square shaped glasses giving better vision the a pair of dark brown eyes, Fuery only glanced up at them once before turning back to the meter in his hand, shaking his head as he did so. "Still trying sir. But from just observation alone, I'd say this one's been dead since early this morning."
"Who found this?" they all knew that Roy's question was pointed at Havoc, who answered just as coolly, trying not to look at the bloody mess on the ground and walls.
"Some homeless guy who was lookin' for some day old pizza in the dumpster."
Roy looked around for said dumpster, only to look back at Havoc in honest confusion and annoyance. "What dumpster?"
It was Fuery who came to the other man's defense, not looking up from yet another glob of flesh and drying blood. "I'm sorry sir but it had to be moved so to better access the scene. I'm surprised they were able to get something that size into this kind of tight space."
Mustang just scoffed at this. "Big enough for a dumpster. Almost too small for a murder scene, much less for a murderer and a hobo looking for food. Did he actually see anything?"
"We're still trying to make sense of his street babble. Riza should have a complete statement from him soon." Havoc mused aloud as they both calmly walked away from the bloody scene of the alleyway.
Roy just calmly nodded at their immediate left with an amused smirk on his slightly pale face as he flicked his cigarette butt to the ground before firmly stepping on it, putting out the remaining orange glow at its tip in time to say just one thing to Havoc's statement. "Speak of the devil."
Riza Hawkeye, tall with long blonde hair tied back in a stylish bun, came walking up behind them, her ever-serious face exposing none of her emotions. Eyes of sharp amber glanced down at the bloody mess, causing her to wrinkle her nose before turning away and staring right at Mustang.
"About time you showed up." She said coolly, her voice firm and lacking any sign of annoyance or amusement at Roy's expression. She hardly ever did.
Roy just raised a delicate eyebrow at this comment, feigning surprise at her words of criticism. "Yet another comment on my timing. First I'm early, now I'm late? How'd that happen Hawkeye?"
Standing firm in her own trench coat of desert brown, white office shirt tucked into chocolate brown pants, Riza gave off the impression of a woman who was very committed to her job. One of the many reasons why she'd been assigned as Roy's partner after joining the force a good two and a half years after he did. She'd proven to be a true asset and a constant reminder of mounting piles of paperwork he'd sometimes forget to do when given. The fact that she'd sometimes use her firearm as a means to gain motivation was a bit scary.
Without batting an eyelash, Riza merely went on. "I hardly got anything from our homeless friend. Apparently he's been hanging around a radio or two lately and doesn't want to be the next victim. Whoever's doing this seems to be giving more of an impact than we thought. We'll need to be more careful the next time around."
"If there is a next time." Roy said musingly, shaking his head before scratching his chin in thought.
"Meaning?" Havoc inquired. He needed to know what his superior was getting at.
Roy's black eyes flashed, sharp as knifes as he spoke, looking them both right in their own eyes for emphasis. "Serial killers normally escalate when they know how successful they are. This guy just seems to be going at a steady pace. Almost as if this is his top speed and nothing more. We just need to find out who he's targeting and why."
Unbeknownst to them, out of all the civilians looking on at the many cops and their yellow tape, only one stood out. A bit taller than most but not to where he was considered a giant amidst them all, the figure stared at the three officers standing together in a bit of a huddle. Two blondes and jet-black, an interesting combination since blondes are stereotypically moronic at best. Apparently these two blondes were smart enough to be worthy of being called cops. One blonde being a woman, the other a rather bum looking man. All he needed was to find out their names.
Turning away, the stranger became one with the late afternoon crowds, his strange appearance fitting in with the multiracial wave of people as he walked the street completely unnoticed and as free as any other. A perfect disguise for a killer, the wolf in sheep's clothing getting ready to bare his sharp, bloody fangs once more, to take down another innocent life of his choosing. He had to keep himself from smiling. That would give the impression that he was either a bit too happy about something, or he was up to no good. As he walked away from the unsuspecting police and press, he scanned the crowd for his next kill.
Am I good or am I good? Well, I'd certainly like to think so. If not… then I'm just extremely arrogant in the hour of my own glory. Either way, I hope this new start was worth reading. That's what makes it worth writing to begin with. Anyway, I'd love to hear from you guys on my latest, as well as a few of my other classics that I've had for all to see all this time. So be sure to stick around and see what else I have (just for variety) and if you review, I'll do my best to respond ASAP. In the meantime, let's see what's to come!
Next chapter:
Chapter 2: New Day, Old Hunt
Roy's trying to find the killer's trail, and Ed's looking for a job! Will it be in a safe field, or right in the line of fire? And just who is the man in the crowd? What are his plans anyway? And will our two main character's paths ever cross throughout this story's ever evolving plot? Come back for another dose of 'Departmental Issues' in:
Chapter 2: New Day, Old Hunt!!
