h a n n i b a l
LESSONS
a fanfic by JetNoir
Note: Just to let you know that this chapter is a bit gory! Also, I am taking the presumption that the movie took place around about the Millennium. Please tell me if I'm wrong!
CHAPTER THREE
Dear Clarice,
Yes, another letter it is. I know that I run a small risk of you tracing these communiqués, but I am willing, it just makes it more…fun. However, I am slightly busy at the moment, like – no doubt – you probably are. So, I will be brief.
After your failure to apprehend me, I am curious. Is this desperate quest to find the Revenant a misplaced attempt to impress the people that once spurned you, the FBI? Hmmm?
Twenty-six, in Le Rouge et Le Noir. A superficial clue, but perhaps something that you may find useful nonetheless.
Why am I doing this? Simple, because it amuses me.
Are you paying attention?
Hannibal Lecter.
--
DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE, FBI
Clarice Starling looked exhausted as she walked into what was affectionately called 'the dungeon'. Once the domain of the late Jack Crawford, now it was home to Starling and a small team of experts that she had recruited from various departments a few days ago. Elias Irons; had a long history with law-enforcement. Matthew Ito; was from the field of Computers, recruited by the Bureau from Microsoft to handle the significant increase in computer crime. Dr Lilia Derevko; was from the field of forensics, especially pathology and of course Clarice handled psychology and profiling, with additional forensics. They were all experienced Bureau officers, but out of the four, there was no doubt that it was Clarice in charge.
"Good morning Clarice," said Matt Ito, smiling over his laptop. He was the oldest of the four, fifty-six, and his receding hairline was a cause for jokes between them. Lilia swivelled, and handed Clarice a slim slip of paper.
"Nothing on location yet," she murmured, "he's good, but we're getting there." She was of course referring to the frequent letters from Lecter.
"Where's Irons?" Starling asked.
"Stuck on a plane," Lilia replied, "the conference went on for later than expected. However perhaps that is not the only reason." Her young pretty face twisted into a slight smile, "perhaps he became a little…friendly…with someone while he was there." Her voice was clear, with a hint of Russian accent, and that voice began to laugh, as did Matt, and Clarice, their laughter blending into a merry sound at the knowledge of the 'exploits' of their friend and colleague.
The laughing died down, and a few moments passed before Lilia asked Clarice:
"Look, the last few days have been so busy I never got a chance to ask. Why have they called the killer Revenant? It just doesn't fit!" Clarice looked up:
"You didn't know?" Lilia shook she head, and Clarice continued.
"We – that it, the FBI – believe that Revenant killed his first victim in 1997. We got a blood sample, but for some bizarre reason, we could only get a blood type, and it's rare. When Revenant reappeared, we got another blood type, and it's the same. Also, we never released certain details about the killings to the press, so no false confessions. That detail was the finger. The department first called his KFC, but we had to find something a bit less…disgusting."
"KFC?" asked Lilia, "What does that mean?"
"As in the restaurant," said Matt, "because the slogan was 'finger lickin' good'. Some student came up with it, and it stuck." Lilia winced.
"That's horrible!" she exclaimed.
"That's why we changed it," said Clarice.
--
The night was dark, and Lecter was hungry.
He prowled the alleyways, determined to find something palatable. Outfitting a new house, just outside D.C. was a chore, especially the money he had invested with the delicious meal of Paul Krendler. Now, however, as he lifted the small hypodermic needle slightly, he set his sights on the target. A tramp. A bum. A waste of society.
He was oh so going to enjoy this.
He crept up, as silent as a bat, or rather, a lamb, and stabbed the sleeping tramp with the needle, quickly pressing the plunger.
As he slid the body into his car, Dr Lecter believed that tonight, he would taste sweetbreads again. It had been such a long time.
--
PARIS
"Where has he gone too? Disappeared."
"I'm unsure. We have agents in every major city in the world, although our search is concentrated on D. C."
"We're running out of time."
"I know…One question, however."
"What?"
"Why is Revenant a he?"
"I don't know who Revenant really is. He used to be called The Lost, but as we don't know gender, I used a generalised 'he'. Now. Get to work."
--
The darkness was also with Revenant as it smiled. It unwrapped the piece of cloth, and, there it was. The severed finger, no worse the where for a day in the fridge. It was looking forward to this.
It decided to put some music on, and eventually settled for Night On A Bare Mountain by Mussorgsky.
Finally, unable to wait any longer, Revenant placed two fingers on the bone in the centre, and ripped it out with one violent movement. The finger collapsed, blood spurting everywhere. Revenant closed its eyes, picked up the finger, and slowly, relishing every mouthful, ate it.
The macabre feast lasted no longer than thirty seconds, but suddenly Revenant felt it again. The urge.
The killing would never stop. Not now. Not for all eternity…
--
Note: I sometimes worry at what my overactive imagination comes up with. Just wanted to say, hope I didn't offend anyone with the finger (but Hannibal is a cannibal!), and hope you liked the new characters! Also, a thankyou to FantaC, who sent me a lovely e-mail, and I hope I answered your questions about Revenant's name, also your prediction about the 'pinkie sandwich' was not too far from the truth! Hope you enjoyed it, and please review!
Disclaimer: Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir