Sorry for the delay, people. I was reading through the first chapter, and I realized that I had totally screwed up the tense. XP I wrote the first part in past tense, and the rest in present tense, so I had to go back and fix it. XD This is exactly why I haven't written a 1st person POV before. -lol- Anyway, its all fixed up, and I hope you all enjoy the next chapter! ^^
I own nothing but the plot of this fic, thank you very much.
I was practically jumping for joy as I made my way down to the lower hall, where the morgue was located; absolutely pumped at the thought of a decent case. So much, in fact, that I felt like I could actually tolerate a dose of Sasori's dead-pan medical jargon. By-passing the main body of the morgue, I made directly for the observation area of the more private, single-stretcher autopsy room; Sasori's usual haunt. Sure enough, as soon as I shut the door behind me and looked through the glass pane, a shock of bright red jumped out at me amongst the various sterile shades of white and silver that dominated this area of the building.
Akasuna Sasori is actually two years older than me, but the guy looks like he's about fifteen. He's only a little over five feet, with wavy, short copper hair, tawny eyes, and fair skin. He looks for all the world like a nerdy freshman, especially when he's working on an autopsy; I swear, no human being should be able to be that intent on a corpse. If it ain't screamin', and it ain't bleedin', it ain't worth that much attention.
"You may as well come down here, Hidan-san." that's another thing; fucker's got eyes in the back of his head. He didn't even look up from his examination of the cadaver's chest cavity when I slammed the door hard enough to send a scalpel clattering off its little metal tray, simply reaching out and catching it deftly, placing it back where it belonged and adjusting his safety goggles.
"Congratulations on your reinstatement, Hidan-san." he commented softly, putting down whatever nondescript tool he'd been using to move aside some organ or another and finally looking up at me.
"Yeah, whatever; show me what ya got, Red." his eyebrow twitched slightly at the use of the nickname, and I felt a certain sense of triumph in having gotten a reaction out of him, smirking as I made my way up to the metal stretcher, looking down at its occupant. She was a pretty one, in a businesswoman sort of way; long-limbed and slender, flowing blonde hair, flawless skin and, when I checked, bright blue eyes.
"She died jointly of anemia and asphysxiation." Sasori commented, pointing to her discolored corneas, then running his fingers tenderly along her pale face, indicating the utter lack of color. "Blood-loss and suffocation." he finished before I could even ask. I nodded, raising an eyebrow.
"Doesn't look very brutal to me, she looks just fuckin' fine...other than that she's one dead bitch, I mean." Sasori sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
"Eloquent." he murmured, then opened his tawny eyes again. "But this was indeed very brutal; I've seen nothing like it in my entire career. Look." he pulled back the white sheet that was covering her body, revealing her chest. I could have sworn I felt my jaw hit the floor.
There was a Y-pattern of stiches down the center of her torso, but compared to what my eyes were fixed on, the uniform autopsial incision was a fuckin' papercut.
"Holy mother of fuck..."
"Indeed." this woman wasn't just murdered, she'd literally had her life torn right out of her chest. There was a gaping hole in the left side of her torso, ragged and torn around the edges, the insides caked with dried blood, though Sasori had cleaned her skin thoroughly. The skin fringing the wound had turned a sickly greenish hue, and I could see right through her damn chest, all the way to the metal table beneath her.
"Blunt force trauma?" I guessed; no kind of gun I knew of could have done something as precise, large, and clean-cut as this. What, had the guy run her through with a fuckin' javelin?
"Mm. It would seem so, but that's not the interesting part." I raised a brow, looking up at Sasori. He met my gaze squarely, hands clasped behind his back. "Her heart is missing. The killer tore it right out of her chest." my stomach lurched slightly; not from disgust, mind you. I love the sight of shit like this. "She choked on her own blood, though she wouldn't have been able to breathe even if her trachea had been clear of obstructions. She was dead in under a minute. Maybe even under thirty seconds. What's even more interesting..." he leaned forward and traced the circumference of her wound gently with his index finger. "Is the instrument the wound suggests he used..." he looked up at me solemnly.
"There is a high chance that the killer did this with his bare hands." I blanched, cocking my head.
"How the hell is that even fucking possible? What, the guy punched straight through her chest? Sorry to break it to ya, Dorothy, but you ain't in fuckin' Konoha anymore." Sasori raised a brow; a common form of expression for him, then shrugged one shoulder slightly.
"Look here;" he indicated the edges of the wound. "You see how the edges were torn? Whatever punched through her expanded in size before it pulled back out, likely a hand holding her heart. Knuckle marks can be distinguished on her breastbone as well, see? It shouldn't be medically possible, but whoever this was managed to break through not only the breastbone, one of the most resilient bones in the body, but several ribs as well. They make it out in movies that the heart is actually easily accesible, but it isn't; even after penetrating the ribs, he had to tear aside the lungs and completely rip the heart away from both the superior and inferior veta cava, the pulmonary artery and vein, not to mention the multiple tubes of the aorta, all in one solid yank."
"I caught about half of that." I commented, leaning back against a counter. Red let out an exasperated sigh.
"He had to sever a lot of thick tubes and break a lot of powerful bones to do this, in layman's terms. There shouldn't be a human alive whose bare hand can do something like that."
"So we're looking for one talented little shit, then."
"Little wouldn't be the word. You're looking for a male, a very, very big male with a lot of muscles."
"The polar opposite of you, you mean." I smirked devilishly.
"Ha." Sasori rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Essentially, yes, however." we were silent for a couple of seconds, then I leaned forward.
"Hey, you said there were knuckle imprints on the breastbone or some shit, right? Can't we do comparison scans with that? Like finger-printing and whatever?"
"No, unfortunately. They aren't clean enough, or distinct enough to run an accurate scan on. The bone was splintered, which leads me to something even stranger."
"It gets stranger?"
"Yes, to the chagrin of all concerned. It would seem that our killer is even more of a medical marvel than I've led you to believe thus far, in that he didn't injure himself at all, by what I can see." I cocked an eyebrow. "All of this splintered bone, there's no way the killer wouldn't have cut himself on it at some point, and yet there isn't even a trace of foreign tissue hanging from these breaks. He penetrated over an inch of solid bone with only his hand, and didn't even get a scratch to show for it. Her fingernails are terribly torn up, like she'd been scratching at something solid, but there's no skin, no wood chips, no metal-shavings, not even any dirt underneath them."
"So basically, we've got nothing." I ran my fingers through my hair in irritation. "We're looking for a guy the size of fuckin' Arnold Schwartzeneager. That narrows it down to about half the ex-convicts in the city."
"And the ones in Taki." Sasori reminded me, pulling the sheet up over the face of the woman who was once called Hidemichi Atsue. "And it isn't limited to convicts, either." I rolled my eyes again.
"Fan-fucking-tastic. I'll get on that right away."
XXX
The previously over-cast sky from earlier that morning had cleared up, and it was now bright as fuckin' July in Suna, which was why I had a pair of dark sunglasses on; one of the disadvantages to being an albino, my eyes are very photosensitive. I'd left my bike in the parking garage, opting to let Konan drive us to the crime-scene, perfectly content to prop my feet up on the dash of her silver Acura V-6, fingers laced behind my head.
"-ccording to Pein-taichou, the murders in Taki were a young couple. Howaito and Itetsu were their sur-names, if I recall. Same MO, same-Hidan, please get your feet off my dash." I flashed her a smirk, though the effect must have been a little incomplete without her being able to see my eyes, and kept right on doing it. She rolled her eyes, changing gears as the GPS alerted us to the neccesity to make a turn. She cleared her throat in annoyance.
"In any case, Taichou-sa-" I cut across her, smirk widening.
"Why's it always about Ginger-taichou, eh? We all know you want to fuck him into his desk, but seriously." her cheeks flamed a bright scarlet and she pursed her lips, promptly shutting up. Mission accomplished.
"But seriously, Imouto-tan," she crinkled her nose and scoffed at the nickname. "You realize that since dad died, I'm gonna have to interogate the shit out of him if you two start dating." I raised a hand lazily. "I'll shove this where the sun don't shine. I'll shove it so far he'll be limping for a fucking week." I wasn't referring to my blood father of course. Unabara Kiyoi, Konan's father, and the closest thing to a real dad I'd ever had. He'd died four years ago in a car accident, and Konan, Shizukesa-kaa and I still visit his grave every weekend to this day.
Konan smirked slightly; she always did appreciate my twisted sense of humor.
"We're here, Otouto-tan." she drawled as we pulled into the parking lot of the Karei no Ame, pulling up near a moderate congregation of police cruisers. The place seemed pretty immaculate, and you'd never have known a murder had taken place there but for the large collection of blood splatters that were currently being sampled by a few techies. Fish.
I opened the car door, kicking my legs out and sliding onto the pavement, lighting a cigarette as I slammed the door behind me. I'm not one of those chain-smokers, but I did pick up the habit about two years back; probably from that Konohan tourist with the beard and side-burns that I ran through with a sharpened metal pipe. (I ran it through both of us at the same time, actually, but that's beside the point. It felt damn good.)
"Anything?" I asked one of the officers, flashing my badge. If the guy had heard of me, that probably wasn't neccesary however; I'm kinda hard to miss.
"Don't think so." he replied, shaking his head. He was of a little over average height, a little stocky in build, with wild, spiky black hair and a strip of bandage over his nose. His badge read Kotetsu.
"Techs are looking a little frustrated, so I doubt it." his partner piped up, a slightly shorter, leaner man with a heavy forelock. Izumo, I think his name was.
"Fuck." I replied, more out of habit than frustration as I looked around the immediate area. Starbucks and Taco Bell across the street, moderate traffic, neon sign above the door into the club depicting a scantily-clad red-head holding an umbrella, clinging to a lamp-post by one leg. I'd been to the club before, and it was usually pretty crowded at night, which seemed the likely time of the murder. Hopefully someone had seen something.
"Anyone managed to track down any possible witnesses? Names from booze reciepts, late-night coffee goers? Anybody who might have seen anything?" I asked, scratching the nape of my neck absently. The one named Kotetsu answered.
"Not yet, Korikatamari-senpai. Hopefully someone will be getting on that soon; its not exactly in our jurisdiction." I nodded, waving my hand lazily before before making my way towards the barrier of yellow tape, badging my way through and striding up to where Konan already stood, arms crossed under her breasts as she observed the techies working with the blood.
"Nothing worth a shit, looks like." I commented as I came up beside her, copying her pose as I took off my sunglasses, ignoring the sting in the back of my eyes as I more closely examined the scene. "Red told me the bastard didn't get a single injury out of it. All this blood; gonna be nothing but hers. Damnit..." Konan 'tsk'ed in agreement, massaging her temple with one well-manicured hand.
"From what these guys say," she waved a dismissive hand at the kneeling techs, one of whom was staring at her chest out of the corner of his eyes (I shot him a withering deathglare that nearly made him shit himself). "-there's not a single fiber, a single hair that even suggests there was another person with her last night. Whoever this bastard is, he's careful. Methodical. Maybe even obsessive." I shook my head.
"Doesn't match the profile. If we've really got a budding pattern-killer, I don't think he's one of those OCD bitches. Method's too violent."
"Then he's aggressive, but smart. I think we can rule out copy-cat killing; I mean, how many people are there out there that can actually do something like this?" I nodded, furrowing my brows.
"I think I'm gonna go talk to the club employees, show around the autopsy photo to see if we got anyone who could give us an initial lead. You take Starbucks or Taco Bell?" I looked over my shoulder at her, and she nodded, striding off immediately across the street while I approached Karei no Ame.
This time of day it was closed, but the owner had been called over when the first cops showed up, and two bartenders plus a janitor had been drawn out by the sirens. I pulled the owner aside first; a tall, white-haired geezer with a wart on one side of his nose and red tattoos running down either cheek. I'd heard before that, aside from owning a club that was notorious for having to escort drunken women out for being 'indecent', he was also a rather renowned porn writer. Lovely. He'd even been arrested once for peeping, according to his rap sheet. I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out a photo of the girl from this morning, handing it to him.
"Hidemichi Atsue. You see her last night?" I raised a brow as the geezer examined the photo, eyes sparkling with glee.
"Naw, but what a beauty!" he giggled. "Know where I can get a number?" I sneered disgustedly, snatching the photo.
"She's dead, dickhead. This is a fucking murder investigation." I swept my hand around the indicate the crime scene tape, and multiple techs snapping pictures of possible 'evidence'. The old guy's face fell a bit, then he looked over his shoulder at one of the bartenders; a scrawny guy with a navy bandanna and dark glasses. Speaking of which, my head was starting to ache like a bitch from the damned sunlight.
"Oi, Ebisu, come over here." the man obliged, adjusting his shades as he glanced at me suspiciously. "You see this little lady last night? Around-?" he looked at me questioningly.
"Between eleven and three is what we believe." I finished for him, holding up the photo. The man called Ebisu took it, studying it closely as he adjusted his glasses again.
"Mmm...no." he answered at last, shaking his head slowly. "I was working all night. If she had been there, I would have known." he shook his head a final time, handing back the picture.
"There anyone else I could ask?" Ebisu tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Neither of them were working around that time." he jerked his thumb towards the other bartender and the janitor. "But maybe you could talk to Kurenai-san. I can give you a number if you want."
"Kure-?" I was cut off by the old geezer, who was drooling a little.
"Our best waitress." he said, grinning like a child with a lollipop. "Impossible to miss her; brunette beauty with the," he moved his hands in circular motions in front of his chest. "And the," he drew an hour-glass shape in the air.
"Right, don't cream your jeans, dipshit. Just tell me when she'll be working and I'll drop by." Ebisu snickered before responding.
"Tonight after eight, I believe. I'll be there too, so just look for me."
"Thanks." I nodded slightly, glad that for once someone was being cooperative.
"Anything you need, Officer." I gave a mock salute, now completely ignoring the owner as I turned around, scratching the back of my head as I examined the scene again. I could only hope that Konan was having better luck over at Starbucks, or wherever it was she went. So early in the case, and it sucked.
"HEY!" my head snapped up insurprise at the sharp call in time to see a flustered techie come stumbling out of an alley. I could only assume he was really new at this, because he promptly doubled over and vomited all over the pavement.
"Hey, hey! What the hell?! You're contaminating the crime scene you little fuck!" I stormed up to him, waving my arms angrily. He heaved another quart of his stomach contents onto the ground, then looked up at me with panicked hazel eyes.
"I..." his voice broke. "I-I..."
"Spit it out!" I grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up.
"I found another body!" at this point, if someone hadn't been looking before, everyone was looking now.
"What...?" I released his collar. "Where?!" he got to his feet shakily, pointing down the alley he had come from.
"Turn immediately left from the alley. He's...he's hidden from sight by the dumpster..." I nodded, clapping the techie on the back briefly.
"Get a hold of yourself, you fucking woman. Let the big boys take it from here." the tech nodded vaguely, stumbling out of the way as I made hurriedly for the aforementioned location. Before I even spotted the dumpster, I knew the fish had been right. The smell of death was in the air. Most people were too desensitized to notice it, but my senses, especially in the presence of blood, are peaked. I know blood, I know death, and I definitely know what they smell like.
And I know what they look like.
And let me tell you; this guy was fuckin' dead.
Leaned against the dumpster was what looked like a hobo. Ratty, baggy clothes, shaggy beard, sun-roughened, leathery skin. But he was pale as all get out, bluish in places, and he'd just started to smell. Judging by the coloration, I guessed he'd been in a freezer for a day or two. So...killed about three days prior?
I moved aside his coat and tore open his shirt, only to be greeted by a gaping hole. His heart had been removed. Violently.
Fuck.
Suddenly Konan was at my side, looking over my shoulder.
"Whoa..." she murmured. "Way dead." I nodded, checking his pockets for identification, cursing fluently when I came up blank.
"What the hell's wrong with his throat?" Konan asked, pressing her fingers to his neck. "Its distended." Indeed, it looked like something was lodged in the fucker's esophagus.
"Lessee." I grunted, prying open his mouth, forcing through the rigor-mortis, only to freeze, stock still. I could vaguely hear Konan warning me about protocols, but that didn't seem important at the moment. What did seem important was how damned white Mr. Homeless's teeth were. Why is that so damn familiar...?
"Hidan?" I wasn't hearing Konan anymore. That weird sense of deja vu was hitting me hard. A hobo; their teeth are supposed to be all yellow and gnarly, aren't th...ey...?
And then it hit me. It hit me hard.
I gasped, opening the hobo's eye with a thumb, then made a slightly strangled noise in the back of my throat. They were bright blue; bright, icy blue. Just like...
He'd aged quite a bit since we'd last met. What...almost ten years prior? I'd thought he was dead...
It was the hobo from the park. The Jashinite hobo...
XXX
They always say that criminals tend to return to the scene of the crime, and everybody always says; 'That's bullshit! Who would be that crazy?!'. The killer chuckled as he thought of that, watching the scene intently from his position perched upon the roof of a nearby apartment complex, chewing on his thumbnail absently.
Apparently I am, though we already knew that, didn't I? he chuckled again, bright yellow eyes sliding shut as he ran a hand through his scruffy, short-cut hair. He examined his nails briefly before his attention was captured again. A silver car had just pulled up to the scene. Plainclothesmen perhaps? The killer cocked his head, scratching the pale left side of his face, simultaneaously licking his teeth in a curious gesture, one of his strange mannerisms.
Indeed, two badges exited the car; a male and a female. The female wandered over to the tape, sliding under and approaching the bloodier area of the scene, while the male stopped to talk with the two uniforms nearest him. He was moderately tall, pale as hell, casually-dressed, and rather handsome.
"Korikatamari Hidan, I'm guessing?" he muttered, chewing his nail again. He had researched some of his possible adversaries, and Korikatamari-san had been one of the most decorated he'd read of.
"A worthy opponent." his voice seemed warped the second time he spoke; more gravelly.
"Mm...yes." the man was talking with the woman he'd arrived with now; both looked a little frustrated. "Oh yes, I'm just that good, aren't we?" he giggled to himself. When the two went their separate ways, probably to question potential witnesses, the killer turned around, groping around behind him vaguely, and quickly found a large ziploc bag, growling in appreciation.
Within the bag was a human heart.
"So delicious...so very worth the trouble..." he withdrew the organ from the bag, imagining what it would be like if the thing was still beating, still warm in his hand. He would have preferred it warm. Fresher. Warm was so much better.
But nevertheless, he pulled it close to his mouth, and ran his tongue slowly across its surface, eyes closing in ecstacy at the aphrodisiatic taste. He shuddered in anticipation, then lunged, ripping a bite out of the lump of flesh, tearing open one of the ventricles as he moaned in pleasure; blood and various other fluids flooding his mouth and dribbling down his chin, down his neck. He feasted, eyes rolling back into his head as he pulpated the organ with his hand. It was his prize, his reward, so delicious.
But he had to keep watching...the loud cry he heard was evidence enough of that...
Abandoning his bounty for later, he moved back to the edge of the roof, striking eyes landing on the crime scene again. The male plainclothesman was bent over a rookie, who appeared to have emptied his guts on the ground. Moments later, Korikatamari-san bolted for the alley.
So they've found it at last...took them long enough...
The killer grinned in a twisted manner, moving so that he could get a better view of Korikatamari-san, watching as the blue-haired planclotheswoman made her way towards the source of the commotion from the Starbucks across the street. It was only moderately interesting to watch, really...
And then Korikatamari-san gasped, his jaw dropping visibly, and he did something to the cadaver's eyes. This caused him to stumble back a step, opening and closing his mouth like a choking fish.
Hmm...that's odd.
He cocked his head again. Did Korikatamari-san know that old bonebag? How? The old man hadn't seemed that relevant...until I tasted his heart...simply exquisite, so...so...marvelous...
And then he could take it no longer. The killer dived for the half-eaten heart, devouring it in but a few seconds.
Delicious, delicious...
Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Drop me a review! I've actually decided to respond to them this story 'round. ^^
skydreia;; Thanks. ^^ Its my first time writing a fic this way, so I would hope it was turning out okay.
Nisroc;; Well, aside from bounty hunter, there really isn't another job he could logically have. XDD
some random person;; -blushing- Well, thank you! And don't worry, there's no way in Hell I'd abandon this fic. I took your advice to heart and fixed the sentence structure a bit in the first chapter. I appreciate your constrctive criticism. ^^
Sado-Masochism;; I do try. ^^ And I'm glad you enjoyed my other fic; I have a bit of a KakuHi obsession myself.
Namantos;; But of course. :D
animemaniac202;; I wasn't asking what they meant, I already knew; I was commenting that most fic readers already know what they mean, but thanks anyway. ^^
Friglit;; I knew I'd have to put some sort of religious thing into this, and a hardcore Christian Hidan just didn't work. XD I've heard good things about Dexter, but I've never seen it myself. Perhaps I should. Is it any good?
Translations:
Unabara, Konan's [non-canon] last name, means 'Ocean' or 'Sea'.
Kiyoi, the name of Konan's [non-canon] father, means 'Noble', and Shizukesa, Konan's [non-canon -_- Bleh I get tired of saying that] mother means 'Serenity' or 'Calm'.
Imouto means 'little sister', and the honorific '-tan' is used like '-chan', but is in a mocking sense, like baby-talk. Otouto means 'little brother'. Hidan and Konan each refer to the other as a younger sibling because Hidan is actually older than Konan, but Konan sees herself as the more mature of the two.
Just in case anyone doesn't know, the honorific '-senpai' is generally used when talking to someone you work with who is of a higher rank than you.