Chapter Six
Randy was seething as he pulled on a pair of tight fitting latex gloves, preparing his hands for another fucking crime scene he'd had the misfortune of stumbling upon and trying his hardest not to complain. He just wanted to go the fuck home! But thanks to Mizanin he probably wouldn't see the opportunity to go home until just a few hours before his next shift and the deceased Mr. Jenston would never see the light of day again. Fucking ridiculous! It didn't have to be this way! Innocent people didn't have to die! And as Randy stared down at the poor Mr. Jenston he couldn't help but think that he and the rest of his colleagues should have done their fucking jobs and locked Mizanin away by now. Mr. Jenston's blood was on their fucking hands! That's what he was mostly angry about. Their incompetence. Was infuriating. Because he knew it allowed that sadistic son of a bitch to terrorize and execute more and more people every day. The body count would continue to rise and Mizanin would eventually have all the right people on his payroll to ensure that he never saw a single day behind bars. All because they couldn't outsmart him. Not even once!
Fuck fuck FUCK!
He was fucking sick of it! Mizanin had played them! AGAIN! And like fools they'd walked right into his fucking games just as they always did! Which was probably the same case for Mr. Jenston. The poor bastard probably never saw this coming. He was still dressed as if he'd just arrived home from work in a dark brown suit, his jacket and white button up shirt beneath it soaked and damaged with blood. Poor bastard. He probably thought he had it all figured out and considered himself safe just so long as he did whatever Mizanin told him to do. Big mistake. HUGE fucking mistake! No one was safe around Mizanin. No one. Randy started to tremble slightly, clenching his jaw so tight it ached as he stood at the feet of the unfortunate Mr. Jenston on the floor and tried not to miss one fucking clue this time. Peoples lives actually depended on it, on HIM. And the severity of that fact made him feel so horribly hollow. He HAD to stop Mizanin! He had to make that bastard pay to make that sickening feeling go away or it would surely be the end of him!
He shook, repulsed by it all and the scene before him. They'd waited in the living room for the rest of their colleagues to arrive, staying out of the office to avoid disturbing any evidence but mostly for Randy he was just putting this off for as long as he could. Like he always did. But from what he'd seen earlier and already now he could tell there had been a struggle for Mr. Jenston's life within the office. A black desk chair was turned over in the corner as if someone had kicked it there to make room. And behind the desk he could see was a row of short pewter colored filing cabinets against the wall that were open, their file contents scattered in a mess across the floor, and most of them were splattered or soaked in blood. He paid them no attention yet. He'd leave those for the forensics team to sort threw or help collect them later if he had the time. He took a breath and dropped his eyes to Mr. Jenston before crouching down and balancing his weight on the flats of his feet. Fucking hell Mr. Jenston was one bloody fucking mess. Even his black hair was matted against his skull and Randy quickly noticed that again the victims fingers were smashed and broken, only this time it was both hands. And upon taking a closer look he realized, something was...Off. The right hand was a mashed bloody mess but even so he could still tell that it wasn't right. It was like there wasn't enough bones and tissue to make up the whole hand...Fucking sick! He bent a little further down and froze, his eyes wide. Oh for the love of-One of the goddamn thumbs was missing! It looked like it had been cut clean off!
Randy felt sick. That was new. Jericho had never removed a digit before and never had he been so sadistic as to smash both hands to mush. He scowled and resumed grinding his teeth. Fucking shit. That only meant one thing. Jericho was escalating. His attacks were getting more violent, more bloody and horrifying and the sick bastard was having a fucking blast! He was only going to get so much worse, Mr. Jenston and his missing thumb were proof of that. And it was obvious that Jericho was just so fucking twisted and fucked in the head now, or maybe he had been all along and Mizanin just brought out the worst in him as time went on. Fuck this was bad. Really bad. At this point Randy was certain that only the punishment of lethal injection would cure Jericho. Because there was no saving those who were born without a conscious or a soul. There was no fixing a heartless monster that killed for fun like Chris Jericho did. No the only way to fix them was to give them the freedom of death. And deep down Randy really hoped he had a hand in Jericho's. One way or another.
"So you're the one who found him?" A familiar voice startled him and asked and he stood up and turned to see Jason standing there with his camera looking well groomed as always in his black cover all suit and his blond hair neatly pulled back into a hidden pony tail. He wasn't his type either but Jason was definitely a good looking man and he was a pretty nice guy and pleasant to be around. Except of course when it came to Hunter. Then Jason was down right mean and abrasive. And Randy loved it every time. "Yeah." He grumbled with a nod. "I didn't move the body or anything though. I found him and we called the team and waited in the living room."
"I figured." Jason said kindly as he reached out and gave his shoulder a warm comforting rubbing, "I've worked with you long enough to trust that you know not to mess with a crime scene. I just wanted to see how you were holding up because I know it can be tough finding a body like this...I mean, this is some fucked up shit but just because we see it every day doesn't mean that it get's easier. " Randy gave him an appreciative nod although he was taken aback by his sincere concern, and was too tired and shattered at the moment to analyze it. But, no. It didn't get an easier. But at least Jason had Adam to go home to every night. At least Jason had someone to comfort him when the bad got worse and the worse got fucked. "I'm fine." He lied. He did a lot of that these days and that didn't get easier either. "Still a little shaken but it'll wear off soon." He hoped.
"Okay." Jason replied, his stone still empathetic and sincere as his hand dropped away from his shoulder, "But if you ever want to talk about it, or anything else, you know where to find us. Our door is always open Randy." Us being he and Adam. Lucky bastards. They got to say things like "us" and "we". He fought a cringe. Oh how he envied them so. All he had was the memory of a stripper he'd only just met. Not that it wasn't one hell of a memory but Jason and Adam were still far more fortunate that he was because they had each other. And he had no one. "Thanks..." He did appreciate Jason's warm invitation but the last thing he wanted to do was spend time around a couple, especially Jason and Adam who were "out" and probably wouldn't understand why he was not. A lot of people didn't. "I'll keep that in mind." And he would, he just doubted that he'd actually take him up on the offer any time soon. Not until he got a few things sorted out for himself first as he saw him self as a bit of a mess. And he had for quite a while.
"We hope that you do." Jason encouraged gently, "We may be lab rats and nerds but we're still pretty cool guys. Not like the ignorant bunch of dullards you hang out with but I digress...Just don't forget us okay?"
Randy nodded. He could use the friends but again Jason and Adam just reminded him of the things he didn't have and of the things he really wished he did. Fucking pathetic right? He was so lonely he couldn't bare to have any friends at all because no matter what he was so desperate for a connection that only a lover could give him. Friends couldn't fill the void in his life or his in heart and at this point they'd only remind him that it was there.
"Detectives I found something I think you should take a look at." Someone said in a hoarse voice and he turned to see that it was Adam, also know as Jason's other half who was crouched beside Mr. Jenston's bloody torso using a pair of long tweezers to carefully lower what looked to be a small bloody piece of paper into a zip lock bag. He too was also again in uniform and well groomed with his hair pulled back. But damn did he sound terrible. Poor guy looked just as pale as Mr. Jenston and he'd been so quiet when he came in that Randy hadn't even heard him set up beside the body. Or maybe he was just really out of it...
Randy moved faster than Hunter and came to stand beside Adam behind the desk before he could and gave the blond his full attention, "What you got for me?"
"Looks like a note." Adam said as he held it up, still careful despite that it was now safely preserved within a sealed evidence bag and his voice was awfully scratchy. "I found it stuffed in his neck."
"Stuffed in his neck?" Randy had to repeat. He was certain he hadn't heard him correctly. That would just be too fucking TWISTED! But Adam nodded and he wanted to hurl. Oh fucking hell! "The wound goes down about an inch and a half into the throat and it's more than an inch wide." More than enough room for the small note. "I'd say it was probably done by a machete and he probably ran it over him twice. I'll know for sure when I get him on the table." Randy shivered as Adam finished, a nerve in his stomach quivering and threatened to make him wretch and he took a deep breath to calm it. It didn't work and his vision blurred. That. Was fucking disgusting. Jericho had actually put the note in the wound...He'd hidden it within Mr. Jenston's body! Oh fucking HELL! Who but a complete monster would do something so demented?-! So heinous and grotesque! God damn it! That sick son of a bitch! He fought another shiver as he stared down at the safely contained bloody note in his colleagues outstretched hand. He didn't want to touch it but did, he had to. Reluctantly and gently he took it from Adam's careful fingers, grimacing as he brought it closer to read and struggled to see the short contents of the printed note. The blood had soaked through it, the original white paper was now a dark crimson and was wet and flimsy enough to smear into un-salvageable pieces. His eyes started to ache but he forced them to focus to read the small black words typed neatly beneath the sickening color of red. "What's it say?" Hunter asked and he could feel him peeking over his shoulder. "It...It says..." He started to read aloud, "I think it says...Detective R. K.O." His blood went cold. Fuck! That was him! Those were his god damn initials! He held a breath and brought the note even closer as he made out the rest, "I see a red door and I want it painted black..."
"That's it?"
"Yeah." He nodded, unable to look away from it just yet, his head spinning and his heart pounding. "That's it."
Hunter reached from behind him and snatched the note from his hands, "What the fuck?-! What red door?-!"
"It's not an actual door." Idiot. "It's a song." He enlightened him absently, his eyes wide, a heavy sickness building in his gut and he gulped. He was more concerned about that fact that his fucking initials were spelled out above the lyrics! Fuck the note was addressed to him! Why? What the fuck was that supposed to tell him? What did it mean?
"That's fucking weird." Hunter said with a heavy, exasperated sigh. "It doesn't make any sense!"
Randy nodded again, still silently panicking. "Yeah but it's still Jericho's M-O. The note is probably just to get a rise out of us." And it fucking worked. Randy was freaking out. "Mizanin wanted us to find this. It's all a fucking game to him." He swallowed hard and turned away from the body, bumping into his partner who quickly moved aside to let him pass. He needed to get the fuck out of there. Why was his name on the goddamn note?-!-?-!
"I wonder what his own lawyer could have done to get himself taken out like this?" He heard Hunter ponder aloud but still didn't stop moving away. "He had to have betrayed him. Or maybe he got greedy and tried to squeeze Mizanin for more money?-?-?"
Randy on his way out didn't agree but he also didn't have it in him to speak again. He really needed a moment to himself. Or at least some fucking air to clear his head.
"Maybe we'll find something on his computer?" Jason offered randomly but Randy knew he was trying to help him out. And he was so thankful that he blond could read him a whole lot better than his partner could. Jason was his savior and distracted Hunter long enough to let him slip away. "I'll get it back to the lab and get the guys working on it. I should know something in a couple of days."
"Good idea." He heard Hunter agree, his voice muffled now as Randy made it to the hallway. Already he felt better once he stepped out of the room, the sick feeling in his gut subsiding enough to let him take a full breath. But his stomach cramped hard. Fuck he was going to throw up, he couldn't stop it this time. He'd always been able to hold it in before and he did because he'd never live it down if he vomited all over a crime scene. But fucking hell he was only human! He couldn't help it this time. He was utterly disgusted and felt rotten to his fucking core! His gloved hands found the walls for support. He was stumbling and sweating, heat passing over his body in hot unbearable waves and he was so fucking dizzy. It was the note that did it. The note sent him over the edge and finally broke him. And he barely made it outside the building before he started to heave. It was all too fucking much!
Just his luck there were no bushes to hide behind, just squad cars and a few uniform cops securing the perimeter. And they all stared at him as he wretched onto the side walk. It was humiliating but he couldn't help it. He had to ride it out. And he did, wiping at the corners of his mouth with the back of his wrist after he finished and sought the nearest object to lean on. In an exhausted breathless daze he chose a squad car and sat on the hood, swaying, shaking, thirsty, and desperately wanting to go home now more than ever. Even though there he'd be alone but at least he could take a shower and try to wash away the sick layer of filth over his skin. At least there he wouldn't be afraid to show just how fucking scared he was that Chris Jericho had put his name on that god damn note. Fuck it shook him so hard to know that Jericho thought about him as he'd killed Mr. Jenston and he couldn't help but wonder how many other people had died as a part of Jericho's sick game to get back at the LVPD? One was too many but he suspected it was a whole lot more and it made him feel sick all over again. If they didn't catch Jericho or Mizanin soon...Fuck. More People were going to die, lot of them. And horribly so.
He sighed heavily, sitting there at a loss and honestly didn't know what to do. Seeing his name on that note...fucked with his head. It was almost like Jericho was trying to tell him he knew something, or that he knew him rather. If it had said Detective Orton or just simply Orton he wouldn't be as concerned about it. But, the use of his initials was personal. Too personal and didn't sit right with him at all. He didn't want that crazy fuck thinking about him unless he was afraid of him! And the note totally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't. Jericho was fucking with him. How could Randy not be afraid? He'd seen what Jericho was capable of! He had nightmares about it! Jesus this was just so fucking wrong! He could feel it. Something sinister was going on. And something told him that he should be keeping the safety off on his guns beside his bed at night.
"He left a note!" He heard Hunter's voice and could tell he was on the phone and headed his way, his voice growing louder and louder until the doors opened and he stepped out. "Yes-Yes. We'll be right there. Alright. See you in a bit." And Randy didn't bother to stand yet, he knew what was coming next as Hunter snapped his phone shut and palmed it tightly as he let out another exasperated sigh. "That was the Captain." Hunter said and shoved his phone back into his jacket, "He wants to see us at the station in thirty minutes."
Fuck. Of course he did. For another emergency case meeting no doubt. Randy sighed as he rolled his shoulders to relieve more tension down his back. Damn it. So much for going home.
**Ever heard of FEEDING THE AUTHOR? I'm starvin' over here people! I see all these hits and visitors but very few reviews D: Be nice! I work hard on this stuff! FEED ME! **