The sun was shining brightly over the tall buildings of New York. Jayson Pierce was walking swiftly through the streets with one hand on a dog leash, keeping a husky golden retriever in check from scrambling all over the place. The grime covered streets were filled with a heavy load of litter, and Central Park was as clean as it ever could get. Which was as bad as a dumpster. If that weren't enough, the retriever started barking and pelted into a pile of leaves.
"Goldie! What the hell are you doing?" Pierce shouted before suddenly noticing a dark substance oozing underneath him. It was a dark red, with a sleek shine that could make just about anyone vomit. Jayson was terrified, and the situation became even worse when he looked up in the branches where the blood was seeping from a mutilated dead body. All he could do was scream.
AT THE TWELFTH PRECINCT
The call came in, with a terrified man sounding as if he had just screamed his lungs out. Montrose grabbed the phone just as it rang. In a busy precinct like this, it wasn't hard to expect calls so early in the morning. Murder was at the top of the calling list, especially after the economic collapse. It only got worse over time.
"Hello, this is 911, what's your emergency?" Montrose asked politely, keeping as calm as possible. In that second before someone speaks, you never want to hear the simple word, 'murder'.
"I have to report a murder." The man said while hyperventilating. "In Central Park." Montrose grabbed a pen and notepad and began to write down the details.
"We'll be down there soon. Stay calm." He hung up and tapped Jackson lightly on the shoulder, awaking the sleep deprived detective. "Yo, Jackson, there's a murder down in Central Park. You comin'?" Jackson rubbed his bleary eyes and responded with a groan.
"That's a yes, Montrose. Let's go, and get a coffee while we're at it." Jackson replied with a loud yawn.
"Why are you always so tired?" Montrose asked, trying to start up small talk.
"Why are you always awake?" Jackson retorted sleepily.
"Would a slap across your face wake you up, sunshine? Because we got a murder." He replied promptly. Jackson stifled another yawn as they got into the car and shook his head harshly, his neck making three popping noises in response.
"Damn it. So much for my warm signature honey milk with Hayley tonight." Jackson muttered, but it did not escape Montrose's ears. "Did I just say that out loud?" Montrose nodded. He placed a hot plastic coffee mug in his partner's cold hands. Then he snickered at Jackson who was fumbling to hold his coffee cup properly.
"Honey milk? Really?" Montrose asked. "Only if Demming was here to hear the story." Jackson glared at his partner with intensity. Instead of taunting him again, Montrose simply kept his eyes on the road.
"It helps her sleep." He defended, but it was a cry on deaf ears. Smirking to himself, Montrose suddenly stopped the car at a screeching halt, reaching their destination. Jackson's head had rammed itself against the dashboard, and coffee was spilled all over his shirt. There was a big purple bruise on his forehead.
"Right, come on now, Honeymilk. Can't keep that dead body waiting." Jackson had a glare that swore revenge on his partner. What comes around, goes around. They stepped out of the car and breathed in fresh air.
"Damn you, Montrose!" Jackson yelled dramatically, while Montrose trudged through the leaves, snickering harshly. Jayson Pierce was trembling, his dog sitting next to him. There was blood coating the back of his shirt.
"Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?" The detectives asked simultaneously, then once again glared at each other, and turned back to the witness.
"I-I was walking G-Goldie, and then all of a sudden she runs head on into a tree. Next thing I know, there's a dead dude looking at me with cold eyes." He stuttered lightly, Jackson writing all of the details down carefully. Goldie was whining, and if Jackson could've sworn anything, the poor mutt stared at the body and back at her owner, growling slightly.
"Right, thanks for the info. We'll go get some backup." Montrose said. Jackson nudged Montrose slightly as they were walking off.
"I think the dog might have something to do with this case." Jackson said. In a nearby apartment complex, a shadowy figure was watching, waiting for a perfect moment to strike, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight for a moment, before disappearing. Unfortunately, our dynamite duo did not see the mysterious person lurking underneath the radar.
AT DEMMING'S APARTMENT
"I hope there isn't a case today," Demming muttered as she picked up her phone, silencing its shrill ringing. "Hello?" There was an eerie silence, followed by harsh breathing. A voice of a young man came on, and he was grinning manically all the while through his words.
"Hello, Detective Demming." He sneered. "Would you like to know something?" She paused, finding some familiarity in the voice. Not much, but it was quite close.
"Yes. I would." She replied. "I'd like to know why the hell you called me so early?" Demming said hotly. The person on the other end cackled.
"You are quite the charmer," The detective heard a somewhat familiar click. "Too bad you won't be able to save your friends." There was a loud yell.
"No! Don't listen to him, Michelle! He's crazy!" The voice of Fuery said. "Let us die! He's too insane!" There was a gunfire.
"Hey, pipsqueak, ready to die?" The voice laughed, another gun clicking slowly.
Edward's voice rang through Demming's tired ears. "Who are you calling a pipsqueak, you smug bastard? I'm still growing you backwater piece of crap!" He yelled. "Get the hell away from me, freak! I don't need to die!" Multiple gunshots were heard in the background.
"So sorry, Detective. I guess I win this time." He laughed insanely and hung up the phone, leaving two near death men on the ground. Demming was breathing harshly, scared for her friends, and two possible witnesses to a murder. They might've been killed, or by a small chance, they might still be alive, but barely. The phone buzzed and there was a text, giving a location to a building that Demming knew well. Fumbling to dial the numbers, Demming jumped off the bed, calling her other partners while grabbing a random shirt and pair of decent pants.
"Hello? Demming?" Jackson asked. "Wait, you gotta hear this story-" Jackson was cut off by Michelle.
"You two need to get here now! There are two people that might've just been murdered, and I think I know where they might be!" She hung up and rushed out the door, grabbing her keys. By the time she reached the bottom floor, the other two detectives were already at her house.
"What the hell is this about, Demming?" Montrose asked.
"Two people might've been seriously injured. Get us to 554 Saint Helens St. in Brooklyn, now!" She commanded, the car was speeding. Luckily, Demming lived quite close to the area, and they barged into the building. "It's apartment 4B on the fifth floor!" They rushed up the stairs, buying time instead of waiting for the elevator.
'I just hope that they're okay.' Demming thought.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
To my fans who have long awaited! Chapter two! I'm sorry for the delay! I had a huge test, then some projects, my birthday, my baby cousin's birthday, a funeral for my great-grandma on my birthday, all that stuff. To sum it up, I was busy. Sorry about the writing, I was confused on what to do with Ed. (That sounded so wrong.)
I CLEARLY DO NOT OWN FMA OR ANY OF THAT STUFF! OTHERWISE WOULD I BE SAYING THIS? HELL NO!