One week later…
The Special Victims Unit was in a frenzy. Captain Cragen rushed around, badgering everyone for information that they didn't have, his bald head glistening with sweat. Another body was found, mutilated and eaten. This made four. Four in eight days.
"Four bodies doesn't make a serial killer!" Cragen snapped.
"Is it coincidence that they're all strung up the same with an identical MO, Cap?" Detective Fin Tutuola asked him with a baffled expression.
"We can't let the press know or even suspect that the murders are related. If we have a serial killer, the FBI will be on our asses in seconds." The Captain responded. "If anyone asks, they're unrelated."
Gold star detectives, Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler, had just returned from the scene of the latest crime in this disturbing spree. Stabler had run to refill his and his partner's coffee, and grab one for John Munch, who seemed to be dragging his feet this morning.
Olivia stood in front of the board where they had hung a map, noting each vic, their location and any facts they had that seemed relevant. She put her hands on her hips. "Maybe the CSIs will find some shard of evidence at the scene this time." She shook her head in disbelief. "Warner should have our ETD and cause for us soon…"
"We have to be missing something." Cragen stood by her and also looked at the map of the city.
"This is unbelievable." Elliot groaned, sitting a cup of steaming coffee in front of Munch, who sat hunched over his desk, looking worried.
He then handed a second cup to Olivia and he too stood and looked at the board, "These attacks are so spread out…not remotely centralized." He sipped his coffee apprehensively, "First vic was an NYU grad student, near campus. Second vic was found in Central Park, but was from fucking Long Island. Third was from Queens. And this guy…this guy was on fucking Staten Island…and a fire fighter."
"I think I got something!" Munch announced.
Everyone turned.
"Our latest vic…I knew his name sounded familiar, he was a suspect in the rape-homicide of a fourteen year old a few years ago. He visited her school for a fire safety talk. We couldn't get him because all of the evidence was circumstantial."
"Did any of the other vics have a rap sheet of any sort?" Elliot's brow furrowed and he took another sip of his brown liquid.
"That's what I'm looking at now."
"Do you think we've got some sorta psycho vigilante on our hands?" Fin wondered.
"When will people learn not to take the law into their own hands?" The SVU attorney, ADA Casey Novak walked briskly past everyone and into her office, shutting the door behind her without another word or so much as a greeting.
"Was that directed at this case or a general comment?" Olivia wondered aloud.
"Who knows…" Her partner mumbled, "She's still the Ice Queen sometimes."
"We need to catch this guy." Cragen said before also retreating to his office.
Olivia crossed her arms and studied the board, looking for some clue, "Or girl."
"The only pattern we've got is the MO and that the vics are all men. Ages and locations are all over the place." Fin observed what everyone else had already observed.
Munch leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Nothing on the other vics."
"Maybe they weren't reported, or-"
"Liv," Elliot cut her off, "Do you want this to be a psycho vigilante?"
"I just want a pattern, El."
"I just want some damn evidence that points to a real, live person instead of a ghost." Fin said from his desk.
"The second vic is who's blowing my mind," Detective Stabler started for his desk. "He died around noon, and we found him at two. How did this sick bastard have time to clean up everything? Every fucking fingerprint, every hair, every fiber, everything?"
Olivia shrugged, "This is the smartest perp, ever."
"Let's head out and talk to this guy's family, friends, neighbors, co-workers…see who saw him last, see if we can actually get something for Cragen." Elliot said then.
Benson nodded.
"I'm comin' with you." Fin said, as he put on his black leather jacket.
"I'm staying. Seeing if I can find something that connects these guys." Munch said with a sigh and bent back over his desk.
Meanwhile in a seedy hotel in Manhattan, two brothers looked over assorted newspaper articles they had spread out on the small table in their room. The older of the Winchesters began to pace and put his phone to his ear.
Sam scratched his head, "What could this thing be?"
"I don't know. I'm calling Bobby. Check the news and see if there's been a fourth murder." Dean said, still pacing, "This shit's happening every other day."
The younger brother clicked on the TV and flipped through the local channels.
"Hey, Bobby…this thing here has got to be…something. We heard on a police scanner that another body came up this morning. The cops are keeping it all under wraps and not releasing all of the details to the press…" He paused, "Yeah, the same as the other three." He paused again, "Yeah, I know it's fucked up."
Sam continued to look for breaking news of any sort. The NYPD was downplaying each attack, making them seem unconnected, and more random. The newspaper articles about the three murders were of varying length, varying details, varying importance. Bobby tipped them off after the first two murders, said he heard from an unnamed source that something was going on in New York and for the boys to check it out. A man was being brutally murdered every other day, parts of him eaten, and his own penis found down his throat. The oddest thing about the murders was the complete lack of viable evidence pointing toward anyone – or at least anyone human.
"Yeah, we're on it." Dean said into the phone and hung up. He flipped it shut and tossed it onto the bed.
"Do you think this could be some sort of succubus?" Sam asked him.
"Dunno. We need to get more information. It's time to be FBI agents, Sammy. Get dressed."
"Could it be a demon?" Sam asked as he got up.
"Dunno."
"Maybe a vengeful spirit?"
"Dunno." Dean seemed to be getting annoyed.
Sam picked up on his emotions and pulled a suit from his bag, "I need to iron this."
"Iron my shirt too. We need to figure out what this thing is, so we can kill it before…well…before tomorrow, when another poor bastard ends up its dinner."
Sam began to situate the iron and ironing board in the room, "Have you ever heard of anything like this?"
Dean sat down, rocking his chair back onto its two rear legs. He put his feet up on the table, minding the newspaper articles, "Nope. Not this specifically."
The younger Winchester tended to his housewife-like duties, and said no more. His mind racing with what this new creature might be. Why it fed on the flesh of men, and why it needed to emasculate its victims. He winced at the thought of the later part, and felt the need to casually check on his own manhood to make sure it was doing alright down there.
Dean squinted at him and said, "Don't scratch your balls and touch my clothes."
Startled, having been unaware of Dean's watching him, Sam cleared his throat awkwardly and went back to his assignment.
"Special Victims Unit."
"Huh?" Sam asked.
"That's where we're going, the Special Victims Unit. They do sex crimes, kidnapping, that stuff."
"All of the depressing shit…" Sam sighed.
"Pretty much, and the penis chopping."
Sam sighed again, "We need to get there before the real FBI does, or we're screwed."
"No kidding. Iron faster. We need to get our hands on the crime scene photos."
Fin, Elliot, and Olivia dispersed to cover more ground. The most recent victim, one Charles "Chuck" Blackburn was last seen alive at the fire station where he worked. After his shift, he headed home, but he never made it there. He didn't make it very far at all, in fact. His body was found sprawled by the side of the fire department when the sun came up the next day and the next shift came in. Everyone said he left alone, and they heard no sounds of a struggle at any point.
He hailed from Jersey, was single as far as anyone knew. He kept to himself since the accusations a few years back regarding his involvement in the rape-homicide that Munch stumbled upon. He was a big man, in shape. No one understood how he could be incapacitated as he was. It was even more baffling that at a scene with so much blood and carnage, there wasn't a single bloody footprint left by the killer.
Police tape covered the scene, and cops still milled around. The body was gone though, and they were cleaning up. Olivia ducked under the tape, flashed her badge, and asked the nearest investigator, "Find anything?"
"Not a damn thing. Didn't you just leave?" He shook his head without waiting for her response, "Weirdest shit I've ever seen. No weapon, he had no defense wounds…just…nothing. It's almost like he did this to himself somehow…"
"Liv!" Elliot called from the sidewalk. She ducked back under the tape and he continued, "Just got a call from Munch. A girl called the station saying that the first vic raped her three weeks ago."
"So…"
"We might just have a vigilante after all."
She looked around, "Got nothing here. I don't know how no one heard anything. This guy had to have been in pain."
"No kidding…" Elliot grimaced, becoming very aware of his own penis.
"There just has to be something to connect these guys."
"Yeah. I got nothing from any of the men inside. He was walking home. He lives five blocks up…always walked home."
"Well, let's canvass the neighborhood."
Elliot nodded, tucked his hands in his pockets and they began their stroll up the street.
Fin had equally terrible luck chatting up everyone around the fire station. No one heard anything, no one knew anything, no one had any remotely useful information. He felt like he was developing a permanent crease in his forehead from the frustration that this case was causing. Like any man, the thought of his own all-important member being ripped off and inserted into his own mouth, made him very uneasy. He tried not to think about it, but it was a rather important feature of these murders.
He scoured the block, talking to every person in every building. He really wanted to catch this sick bastard, even if the perp was killing perps. He imagined Chuck's last moments, in the dark, on the concrete. Warner hadn't finished her autopsy, but he knew what she'd come back with – the same thing as the other three…
Penis ripped off, neck slashed, face and chest slashed, abdomen gashed open and snacked on. Each man was still alive, bleeding out slowly while this happened, and then they were killed by asphyxiation either on their own blood or their detached penis.
Fin shivered, despite the heat emanating from his sidewalk, and being amplified by his jacket. Someone had to have seen something and he was determined to find them.