"That's the fifth one this month" Arthur Kirkland, head of the police department, scowled, glaring at the photograph. A young woman beamed up from the picture, her cheerful and animated expression lighting up the entire frame. Her name, Annie Lin, was scrawled at the bottom of the photo in messy, loopy handwriting.

"We've got no leads?" Arthur asked the man sitting across the desk from him, his scowl becoming more pronounced when the other man shook his head.

"Sorry Art" the man apologized, his bright blue eyes clouded with worry, "This guy's a real sicko. He's got no preference, no pattern…men, women, children…they're all alike to him."

"And he's killed how many people so far, Al?"Arthur responded, grasping his head wearily in between his hands.

The other man, Alfred, sighed, "We think…twenty. Perhaps more. We found Annie's body floating up the river, her skull bashed in with a heavy and blunt object, and of course…on her upper-right shoulder…"

"The tattoo of the bear, yes, yes I know. It's the only thing linking all the murders together…the methods for killing have been rather diverse, no? Bludgeoning, stabbing, shooting, poisoning, the list goes on and on" Arthur responded wearily, "The Bear Serial killer. He's got nearly this entire city in complete panic, and so far, we've got no leads on the bastard."

"D'you think it's one man?" Alfred suddenly spoke up, examining the photograph.

"No" Arthur shook his head, "There's more than one man behind this. There's simply no way for such bloodshed to occur in such succession, and as I said, the style of killing is just far too diverse…it's just not possible for a single man to be behind all of this."

"So we're after an organization?"

"Yes" Arthur stood, his eyes hard and face resolute, "Al, go grab your brother and the Frog. We're going to do some field work today, and go re-visit the some of the spots where we found the victims."

"But will that really help?"

"We've been cooped in this office for weeks, Al" Arthur responded wearily, passing a hand over his face, "We need to get out. And who knows? We may find something."

Alfred stared up at Arthur before rising as well and stretching. "Alright. Meet me down by your car. I'll go get Francis and Mattie now."


"Ah, quelle horreur!" The blonde Frenchman cried, examining a cutting from a recent newspaper. He lay splayed across a king sized bed in nothing but a pair of pink boxer shorts, exposing his white chest and hairy legs for all the world to see.

"So ze Bearman is at it again, yes?" he said in a heavy French accent, twirling a lock of golden hair between two long, delicate fingers. "And this case has given little Al so much trouble, tsk tsk tsk..."

Just then, several sharp knocks issued from the front door of the French man's apartment. Scattering the newspaper clippings all over the bedroom, he lept from the bed and ran to answer the door, not bothering in the least to make himself decent.

"Bonjour Alfred!" He said, stretching up against the doorway to show his fellow cop his body in all its naked glory. "What brings you by my humble abode on this fine Friday afternoon?"


Alfred hurried out of the police office, headed straight to Francis' extravagant flat. Loathe as he did to admit it, Francis could be unusually perceptive at certain times, and had, time and time again, proved an invaluable asset to the "team". He reached the building where the Frenchman resided, and within minutes, had taken the elevator to the top. Quickly, he rapped on the door, waiting as he heard a flurry of paper, and then the sound of footsteps.

The door flew open, and Alfred was instantly greeted by a very muscular, but very naked Francis. Smiling obliviously, as he learned there was no way to really counter Francis' well, forwardness, Alfred bobbed his head up and down at the other's greeting, "Art needs your help." He responded, internally smirking and knowing what a thrill it would be to Francis and what a blow to Arthur to have phrased the statement so it sounded like Arthur had asked for Francis' help.

"Does he now?" Francis said, blue eyes sparkling as he flipped his golden hair. "I suppose this is concerning ze bear man, non?"

Alfred smirked nodding, "Yep. And let's get some clothes on this time. We don't want a repeat of the screwdriver incident…how did you get that thing out of your ass anyways? He lodged it up there pretty good from what I could see…"

Francis smirked. "It's a secret." he purred. "We can try it here if you like...except using your magical appendage instead of a screwdriver."

Alfred shook his head, still smiling, "No way Francis. Last thing I need is some furious limey trying to skin me because I slept with his boyfriend. Now c'mon. We gotta go grab Mattie."

Francias frowned, but didn't bother to argue. He slipped back inside his flat to get changed, leaving the door wide open in case Alfred might want to enter his extravagant abode. Five minutes later, the tall blonde man emerged from his bedroom wearing black slacks and buttoning up a white shirt as he approached the front room.

"Where are we off to?" He asked, selecting one of the many designer jackets he owned from a small coat closet. He showed Alfred the door.

"Mattie's place" Alfred replied, following Francis out the door, "Do you remember where he lives again? I mean, I swear for the life of me I can't figure out where he disappears to half the time!"

They took Alfred's car, though Francis pleaded to let him drive. He took pride in his skill. Weaving in and out of traffic without getting hit is an art, and one he certainly excelled at. He sped up to terrifying speeds, zooming under yellow lights the moment before they turned red. Ignoring Alfred's screams of terror and annoying backseat-driver comments, he delivered the vehicle unscathed to Mattie's residence.


Mattew let out a satisfied sigh as he looked at the feast before him on his tiny, worn down wooden table. A pile of pancakes the size and height of a small beaver sat before him, positively smothered in butter and maple syrup. There was a giant glass (mug, if he was being honest) of milk set off to the right and a pile of napkins on his left. Never had Matt seen a more gorgeous meal.

He grabbed his mismatched fork and knife and started to dig in. He'd just piled a satisfactory glob onto his fork, and was about to shove it into the black hole he called a mouth when

DING DONG!

Shit. That was probably – "Al, what the hell are you doing? You don't just barge into people's apartments and tromp mud all over the floors! Jesus, man, learn some restraint- oh, hi Francis, good to see you..."


After narrowly avoiding what had surely been several near-death incidents, Alfred staggered up the drive to his brother's house, glaring at Francis before slamming down on the doorbell. A few minutes passed, then the door swung open and Alfred barreled in without any invite, shoving his younger brother out of the way as he did so. A delicious smell hung heavy in the air, and, instantly recognizing the aroma, Alfred perked up instantly.

He quickly made his way to the kitchen, where, not to his surprise, a huge stack of steaming pancakes smothered in maple syrup and butter lay before him. "Sweet!" he exclaimed, plopping down in the chair before the mound. Grabbing a fork that he was certain had been left for him; Alfred speared a portion of the pancake and stuffed it into his mouth.

For a moment, the Canadian stood in stunned silence. Was his brother really-?

"Dude, what the hell? Those took me ten minutes to make! And I haven't eaten in like three hours! AND I just got back from hockey practice!"

Matt sighed in acceptance. There was no point trying to argue with Alfred now. He did whatever he wanted, and that was that. Still, it struck a melancholy chord in his heart to see his favorite food disappear into his brother's amazingly large and unattractive gob so quickly.

"At least save me half… I'm guessing that you're here about work? I saw that article in the paper. Another bear victim, huh?"

Alfred frowned as he shoveled the food into his mouth. The pancakes were great, really, amazing. However, there was a strange buzzing in his right ear…was someone trying to talk to him? Nah. Shrugging it off, Alfred polished off the mound of food, and, with a satisfied sigh, leaned back in his chair.

"Man, that was great!" he cried, sitting for a few minutes before turning around to see Matthew staring at him with a slight look of disbelief plastered across his face, "Oh hey Mattie!" Alfred called cheerfully, standing and crossing over to pull his younger brother into a bear hug, "I didn't even see you! When did you get here?"

"guh…. My… food…." Matt's mind produced only fragments of thoughts as he watched the last bit of pancake slide down his brother's throat.

The look of horror on his face grew even more pronounced as he saw Alfred jump up and head straight for him. Moments later he was crushed into a withered Canadian ball by his brother, who was shouting something about not noticing him.

"Al, let go…. Can't… breathe…" he gasped as he was freed from the taller man's jaws of death.

After a momentary delay, Matt had recovered enough to reply " Hey, what do you mean, when did I get here? THIS IS MY HOUSE! Okay, well not house, but… MY APARTMENT! Now, will someone please tell me why my dear brother Alfred is inhaling my food? Does this have to do with work, or what?"

"Your place?" Alfred looked around, before a giant grin bloomed across his face, "Hey you're right! We made it here! Anyways…well. Yeah. Mattie, it's about the Bear Serial Killer again." Alfred paused running a hand over his face, "They found another victim."

Matt grimaced. He had known what the news was going to be, but he still died a little bit every time this guy killed and got away with it.

"Okay, sure. Let me change out of my jersey and we'll head on down to the station. Francis," Matthew turned to address the Frenchman, who'd been pretty much silent since he'd walked in the door.

"Should I dress like a kid or an officer? I need to know whether I'll be going straight onto the streets or into the office."

Francis jerked slightly from his relaxed position against the wall as if Mattie's words had interrupted some deep train of thought, though Francis' thoughts were not what one would consider "deep".

"Well...you always look like a kid," He teased the smaller man, "so I guess the question would really be 'do I want to look like a kid dressed as an officer or just a kid?' But I'd say kid dressed up as an officer. We have to swing by the office if we want to get details from Art."

"Sure, sure. Pick on the little guy. Alright, I'll be out in a minute. And AL! I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE FOOD SO YOU CAN STOP LOOKING THROUGH MY CUPBOARDS!"

Matt sighed and walked into his messy room. After picking an only slightly wrinkled button up shirt and pair of jeans out of his laundry basket, he smoothed down his hair quickly and threw on some shoes. He stumbled back into the front room and grabbed his wallet before ushering his two companions out the door.

"Lets get to work, guys."


Arthur smiled, watching as Alfred hurried out of the room. Finally. He would have some peace and quiet. It would probably take the boy at least an hour to grab Matt and the pervert, and Arthur planned on using that hour for some quality time. Stretching as he stood, he took a key out of his back pocket, and jamming it into the lock under his desk, opened his private drawer. From there, he pulled out his case of tea, and, of course, his latest piece of embroidery. Though he loved it, he rarely embroidered in front of his co-workers, as it usually got him a few odd stares and even more sniggers. He grabbed the kettle from the small kitchen he had adjacent to his office, set the water on boil, and smiled, relaxing into the chair as he started back on his latest masterpiece.

"Dude is that a fucking unicorn?"

Arthur jumped, startled. So engrossed had he been in his fine craft that he hadn't noticed the time pass, hadn't heard the door slam open, hadn't heard the footsteps, and now, Alfred, accompanied by Francis and Matt were staring at him.

"It…it's none of your bloody business!" Arthur defended, blushing and hiding his embroidery hoop behind his back.

"Art. What the hell?" Alfred looked dumbfounded, "You're the fucking head police officer around here, and you spend your free time embroidering unicorns? What? Is your lifelong ambition to become an eighty year old lady?"

"I said shut up!" Arthur snapped, glaring at Alfred, "It's none of your damn business what I do in my free time! Now! You're here for work, right?" he asked, turning pointedly away from Alfred and focusing his attention instead on Francis and Matthew.