Well, :p shit


You looked over at your fiancee, smiling lightly. She snuggled close to you as you ran your fingers through her red hair, knowing that she was everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed. You were happy to have her. You heard your phone ring as you grabbed it, answering it.

"It's Dave."

"Dave, it's John, we need you at the station, a woman just called saying she was being attacked by a man with a shit ton of objects."

"I'll be there." You hung up, grabbing some clothes and putting them on, soon hearing a voice.

"Where you going?" You turned towards Terezi, who rubbed her head slightly as her glazed eyes and nose faced you.

"Work, I just got called in."

"Alright, I'll just be here then."

"Okay." You left, going down to the station to get ready to stop an attack.


She won't stop her fucking screaming. God it's annoying. You stabbed her again, and again, and AGAIN in the stomach, spreading her blood around as you did so. She coughed, gasping and looking at you, her vivid green eyes soon losing the life as she died, blood at the corner of her mouth. God, what a shame. Good thing her girlfriend or whatever wasn't there to see it. You lit a match, setting it on her foot, cutting her heart out and setting it down next to the pictures, leaving a note under it. You smiled, going out the same entrance as you came in, driving back home to go shower.


Kanaya Maryam, stabbed to death.

She was Muslim, leaving behind a girlfriend whom she loved.

You looked around, seeing a heart hidden behind the photos on the antique desk near her body, which had been burned nearly to a crisp before the victims girlfriend went and watered her down, luckily she could identify her. You looked at the note under the picture of her, her sister, and her girlfriend, reading it.

"Infidelity is the only thing that she kept a secret." You sighed, looking to John.

"Same guy?"

"Same fucking guy."

He sighed, completely fucking done with this shit. You think everyone was done with this, yet, it still needed to be solved, you found a bloody footprint.

"What is it?"

"DC show, size four in Mens, looks like we have a few suspects to find."

"Yep." You're so fucking lucky John can identify any show type and what size it is just by a glance. That's why you have him on your team.


"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't tell you who bought a pair of size four DC Mens."

"Are you sure? We're cops."

"Customer confidentiality."

"Listen... Yvette?" You couldn't really fucking read that, cause it was in small print and in awkward lettering.

"Yvette, yes."

"Listen Yvette, if you don't let us find out who bought those shoes, you can be arrested for accessory of murder."

"Oh, of course." She started looking through her computer, tapping quickly on the keys. You could tell by John's eyesight that it looked like he was staring at the computer, but you knew he was staring at the cashiers boobs.

"Yes, here, he's a regular." She pulled out a piece of paper, writing down an address. You took it, thanking her and leaving, coming back and dragging John out of there.

"Dumbass, what the fuck were you doing?"

"She could be a witness!"

"You just want to get laid!"

"So?"

"You aren't fucking a person we questioned!"

"So?"

"John you dumbass." You left to the car as he quickly followed, getting in with you as you put in the address on the GPS, driving to it.

You were gonna talk with a "Mr. Vantas" about him being a suspect.


WELL SHIT!