No Escape
Thursday, August 6, 1:15 P.M.
Brenda didn't give a flying shit that it was rude to try and break down another person's door. She did feel a little twinge of guilt when Hades looked up; he'd flinched like she'd waved a gun in his face. And he looked sick, his face pale enough that he could pass for Caucasian instead of borderline Mediterranean. His hair stood on end, his shirt was rumpled, and sweat beaded at his temples.
Because of that, she didn't start off yelling. She growled. "What's so important you couldn't check out a crime scene?"
"I thought you didn't want me to trust interns with investigations important to your case." He tried to subtly rub at his eyes. "I found something, from the second victim. The second Miss Doe had her appendix removed. Until this morning, it was not pertinent to your investigation."
"What makes it pertinent now?" Brenda asked, stalking over to Hades' desk. Mewtwo flanked her, moving over to stand next to a couple filing cabinets. "And no, I don't trust interns. Creepy bastards."
"That's why I stayed with the evidence, detective," Ben said patiently. "A surgeon performed an appendectomy on Miss Doe, and neglected to remove a prototype surgical device from her body. The modified tweezers are solid metal, and have a hand-carved serial number on the side."
"Some asshole left tweezers in a little girl?" Brenda asked, hardly able to believe it. She looked over at Mewtwo, who snorted.
"It happens," he said. "More often then people think."
Ben nodded. "It's an extremely common mistake. This one will cause him a great deal of trouble. I worked with the interns to look through all recent publications about surgeries and patent applications." He held out a piece of paper. Ben had made several notes in precise block printing. The only image on the paper was a photocopied medical license. "This man performed surgery on Miss Doe. That should be more than enough to have him brought in for questioning."
Brenda took the paper, and frowned. "Looks like someone we're bringing in to you," she said. "If you gave our victim a non-battered face." She looked up. "Four dead. Three are, we think, scientists who worked on the clones. The fourth is another clone, looks fourteen or so."
Ben paled, which left his skin nearly translucent. "Don't give me details, please. I cannot risk introducing bias to the initial examinations."
"I won't," she said, and folded the paper. She tucked it into her back pocket, and looked up. "Breathe, Hades, or you'll fall over."
He smiled wearily. "No time for that, I'm afraid. Do you have any further questions? I'm expecting the retrieval team to reach the morgue within five minutes, and the examination beds are not fully prepared."
"Mind if we watch?" She noticed Mewtwo flinch, and amended her request. "Me, I mean. Smith has to run a check on this guy's friends and family." She pulled out the paper and handed it over.
He was wearing an illusion, and the illusion looked relieved. Weird.
Ben frowned. "I don't work with an assistant, and speak only to record the examination. You would not participate, and any comments you made would be on the autopsy record."
"I can do that," she said. "Smith, get going."
Mewtwo nodded, and left. In contrast to her entrance, he eased the office door shut.
"The morgue is at half capacity today," he remarked. The coroner drained a mug of coffee that had been sitting on his desk. "The hospital doesn't have anyone with full certifications. They can confirm obvious cause of death, but I still am running all forensics." Ben was also still searching for clues for the clones, but he felt that much was obvious. "You have already seen the bodies?"
"Yes. The ET's couldn't bag and transport until I had." She could have used a mug of coffee herself, but didn't ask. Better not to have anything in the stomach during an autopsy. Cutting open bodies tended to task the most iron of stomachs.
He peered into the empty mug, but gave it up as a lost cause. "I hate coffee, but I've been in since six," he explained. "If you want anything, the break room is upstairs. I won't start for at least fifteen minutes."
"I'll make do without," she said. "So, what can you tell me about our clones, besides the tweezers incident? Anything new?"
"Nothing useful. My working hypothesis is that both girls I have examined would have died within half a year of a multi-system organ failure."
"Lovely. Any signs their keepers were trying to fight it?"
"If there were any changes, I won't be able to tell. Their endocrine readings are... well, any expert medical witness will be able to tell that their hormone levels are abnormal."
Brenda pinched the bridge of her nose. "I hate science," she muttered. "Do you know what weird hormone levels would do? They're too young for periods, but..."
"They would not have begun menses." His posture was tense as he stood, and he took no care in entering the morgue quietly. "Even if they had lived through severe difficulties in liver, heart, lung, and digestive function, they would never have started."
"Didn't they have the parts?"
"The organs? Yes, but there was no natural system to regulate hormone production. The scientists introduced mechanisms for beginning endocrine function. They could have used this technology to cure any number of diseases, but they played at being gods."
Brenda shook her head, and leaned against the back wall. Far enough away that she would be out of the way, against one of the few places where nothing important was stacked, stored, bolted down, or shelved. "Power corrupts," she said. "That is what everyone says."
"Maybe the mythic everyone does get something right on occasion. Have you heard of the experiments done with college students, the prison guards and the prisoners? When accountability is removed, and the students are isolated... in two trials, the prison guards severely abused those without power."
"Heard of it, wasn't really surprised. Have you seen some cops? That's why we have IAB, even if it is filled with a bunch of rats."
Brenda looked over as the ET's arrived, with the four body bags. "I want you to look at the girl first," she said. "The other three can wait until you're done with your prelim."
"Detective Johnson, I realize that you have quite the reputation." Ben held her gaze as he pulled on a lab coat. "I will proceed as I always do, with a cursory examination of all bodies brought to the morgue. I will prioritize as I see fit, and I will move in the order that I think best." For once, he didn't look apologetic. "You asked to watch. I said that you will not participate."
Hades had a spine. It was almost impressive. She arched one eyebrow, and then shrugged. He was the one who didn't want any details. "Fine. I did agree, didn't I?"
The ET's still there looked at Ben with raw envy, and no little surprise, as they left.
He nodded absently to the retrieval crew. "Do you have the time to stop upstairs, Mitchell?" he asked the driver. "Zoe has a few special protocols for you, meant for one subset of victims."
"Sure," Mitchell said. She glanced at the body bags, and very nearly shuddered. "Be happy to."
He did nothing with the body bags for several minutes. He placed a tray of sterile instruments at each of the four empty examination tables, and laid out a tape for the recording device. Each tape was labeled carefully. Ben didn't seem to notice that Brenda was still there, and said nothing to her as he unzipped the body bags. "Thursday, August the sixth, at 1:20 P.M. The first victim is a female, early forties, mixed race complexion, brown hair. A visual examination shows seventeen stab wounds and no post-mortem mutilation."
Brenda narrowed her eyes, letting half her mind listen to the details Hades was rattling off, turning the other half to Taylor. The ice queen knew what was going on. No damn way had there been any preparations for a party. Cracking her in the interrogation room was going to be hard, but… Well, she'd dealt with worse. And she had a partner who knew when people were lying.
She looked over at Hades, and wondered how long it was going to take before he was done. Well, so long as it was before midnight, she really didn't care.
Thursday, August 6, 2:00 P.M.
Elizabeth let herself into her house, and smiled faintly at the sound of Mozart. Piano Concerto No. 21 - Andante "Elvira Madigan", if she wasn't mistaken. Number Eight did enjoy Mozart's music. A fortunate chance, that, as Elizabeth was fond of the concertos herself.
She set the unnecessary crutches aside, and walked towards Number Eight's bedroom. She found the clone exactly where she had expected, sprawled in her wheelchair, eyes half closed and head tilted back as she listened to the music.
"Enjoying yourself?" Elizabeth asked, taking a seat on the unmade bed. Number Eight opened her eyes and looked over.
"Yeah," she said, slurring a little. Today was a good day, Elizabeth noted. Number Eight was able to sit up unaided, didn't require her belt to stay in the wheelchair, and wasn't reduced to sign language. The recent batch of drug cocktails was actually doing their work. "What happened?"
"Nothing too important," Elizabeth said. "Three of my colleagues decided they wished to take a vacation, and another clone succumbed to organ failure. That is all."
Number Eight nodded, and looked down at her hands. "I'll miss the others. Which one died?"
"Number Nine. James stayed with her when she died before leaving for his vacation."
Number Eight nodded again, and looked at her CD player. "Are you going to create more of us?" she asked.
"Eventually," Elizabeth said. Once they found the proper minds to take James, Michael, and Gwen's place. That the scientists were dead and the clones murdered was not something to share with Number Eight. Far better to uphold the illusion that her fellow clones were simply coming to the end of their lifespan. The clone would be dead before the deception was revealed.
"I hope you fix the problems."
"I believe it relates to several of the repetitive genes we removed from your DNA. I believe if we remove fewer of them, the health of future projects shall improve."
"That's good." Number Eight reached out with her right hand- her good hand- and stopped the CD. "If you don't mind, Ms. Taylor, I'm kind of tired. Do you mind if I go to sleep now?"
"Certainly. Will you need any help getting into bed?"
"No, I'll be fine." Number Eight smiled. "Thanks, though."
Elizabeth nodded, and got up. She paused in the doorway, and turned towards the clone. "If you feel any difficulty breathing," she began, then stopped when she saw Number Eight was not paying attention. She was looking at something past Elizabeth's hip. The door, most likely. "Number Eight!" she snapped.
And then her hip burst into fire and she fell to the floor.
Four jumped and landed on the bad doctor's back, knees to either side of the spine. She tangled her fingers into dark hair, and rested her fingertips against the bad doctor's temples. With a quick wrench, the neck snapped, and the bad doctor stopped breathing. Four looked up and smiled at her sister.
"Hi, Eight. You look sick." She frowned. Sick and tired and sad, that was how Eight looked. Eight always looked sick and tired, but sad was new. "I can make you better."
Eight looked up and away, the way she always always always did when thinking. "Can you?" she asked. "You didn't have to kill her, you know."
Kill who? Four shrugged, and stepped off the whatever it was she'd been kneeling on. "Eight? How tired are you?"
Eight smiled. It made Four feel funny inside, like she should crawl away someplace small and dark. "Oh, I'm very tired," she said.
"Then you need to sleep," Four pointed out. "Do you want to sleep?"
Eight looked back, and smiled, bright and happy and she was holding her arms open for a hug. "Yes," she said. "I'd like to sleep. Just like Nine, and Five, and Six, okay? Will you put me in a pretty place to nap too?"
"Of course," Four replied, and moved forward into the hug. "You'll have to wait until night time, though," she warned. "Nosy people live around here."
"I can wait. I'll have all the time in the world." Eight took Four's tiny hand in her bigger one, and squeezed. "I love you. I'm ready."
"Okay." Four moved her free hand to the back of Eight's neck, and smiled. "It won't hurt. Promise!"
She squeezed.
It was very quick. Eight stiffened, and then relaxed. Four studied her sister, lying so strange in the chair with the big wheels. That didn't look very comfortable. Look, there was a good bed right there. Eight could sleep there until night time. Then she'd go to the pretty flowers Four had already found for her sister.
She moved her older-younger sibling, and scowled at the chair. It took up too much room. There was a closet, she could put it in there. Eight wouldn't need it.
The chair was light, compared to some of the things Four could lift. She closed the closet door on the chair, and turned around.
And screamed.
Three was staring at her!
I don't like the fire! Three yelled, eyes open wide wide very wide, mouth open even wider as she wailed. You put me in the fire! Why? What'd I do? Four Four Four I want sleep!
"I'm sorry!" Four said, sobbing. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
Sleep! I'm tired! You're tired! Sleep sister, sleep!
Four stopped crying. "Not yet," she said. "You have to wait, Three. I'll put us to sleep after our sisters are sleeping. Then we can all sleep together and everything will be fine. Okay?"
Her sister smiled, bright and cheerful again. Okay. I don't want to watch anymore. Close the window, Four, you're letting in the cold.
Four nodded, and lifted the mirror off the wall. She smiled at her sister again, and then smashed the mirror down against the floor. Glass cut her hands, arms, face, but she didn't care.
She was going to make everything better. Everything was going to be okay, she'd promised.
Thursday, August 6, 7:45 P.M.
Brenda sank down into her desk chair, and stared at Mewtwo. Mewtwo stared right back. The bullpen was quiet, dayshift having gone away for the night. Nightshift had shuffled in, and was mostly concerned with paperwork and research. There were a few cops, like Brenda and Mewtwo, whose work had run over.
"You get to wrangle with Payroll about the overtime," Brenda said, finally breaking the silence. "My brain's gone to mush, I can't do it."
"Are you alright?"
"Fine. Just fine. Didn't throw up, so that's a plus." She leaned back in her chair, grinning a little as it creaked and groaned in protest. "Want to know what I found out?"
"Go right ahead. I have been waiting all day for this." Mewtwo arched his eyebrows, and waved one hand.
"…Human bodies are freaky and disgusting. And I hate rib cutters."
He closed his eyes, and, she thought, growled a little. Damn, he was picking up her habits. Did that mean she was picking up any of his? She hadn't noticed anything weird. "About the case?"
"Human bodies being freaky is part of the case. Did you know nerves can die? And that a good coroner can tell when they've died? And- very yuck- can also tell when someone's been touching a girl in an inappropriate sexual manner?" She clenched her fists. Yeah, black light- or whatever the fuck it'd been, it'd looked like a black light- revealed bruises invisible to the naked eye. And, bonus, the bruises on the clone's shoulders? Just a bit big for their murder suspect.
"What happened to the clone?" Mewtwo asked, his eyes wide and illusion flickering. Neither of them bothered to check that his slip had been seen. Nightshift would care even less then Dayshift did.
"Sexual assault," Brenda repeated. She smirked when Mewtwo bared his teeth. "Yeah, kind of my response. There wasn't any DNA to run, guess the guy gloved up, or just hadn't touched the girl in a while. But I also bet you I can guess just which bastard did it."
That snapped him out of any homicidal thoughts. He still looked angry, she thought, but at least he didn't look like he wanted to bite anyone on the neck. "Oh?"
"Two of our victims were killed quickly, with whatever means was at hand. Yeah, they were mauled some, but it would still have been quick. And yet the third was strangled with his tie."
"A slow death, so the murderer could talk to him?"
"That's my bet," she admitted. "Granted, there's no way to charge the guy. He's dead. And no way to prove he's the one that assaulted the girl. But if he comes back as Mallory, then there's good reason to suspect he's the bastard. Mallory's sheet-"
"Has sexual assault on record," Mewtwo finished, eyes narrow. "Why wasn't he arrested?"
"Girl dropped the charge, it got swept under the rug. Happens. Sucks, but it happens." Brenda scowled. "Anyways. So, slow death… 'You did this, this is why you're dying, this is why you're going to suffer'."
"This isn't making me feel any better."
"Me either."
The two sat in silence, occasionally looking at each other, most of the time staring at a wall, a coffee pot, a light switch. Mewtwo drummed his fingers on his desk. Brenda rocked back in her chair.
"I'm starting to have a lot of sympathy for our murderer," Mewtwo said.
"So am I." Brenda raised her eyebrows when Mewtwo looked over at her, surprised. "What? I am. From everything we've dug up, we've got what amounts to a little girl, dying sisters, bastards running the show- and she snaps, has the power to do what she thinks has to be done…" She waved one hand, and scowled.
"Would you do the same?"
She didn't know. She was pretty sure Mewtwo had, if not done exactly as their murderer had, had done something similar. But her? She just didn't know. She'd never been in that situation, after all.
"I like to think I would," she said, and left it at that. "Our strangled guy died last, by the way. Hades is pretty firm about that. Face bashed guy was first."
"So, what happened, the clone came in the front door?"
"Got any reason to suspect she didn't?"
"The door wasn't broken."
Brenda gifted him with her 'you're missing the obvious' look. "Was the door locked?" she asked. "We don't know that, but at a guess, I'll say no. Besides, the windows were broken in, she could've come in through one of those. Face bash guy could've heard the breaking window, come to investigate, gotten killed. The woman, hearing the noise, runs to the kitchen to arm herself- or warn the clone, whichever- gets caught, gets dead."
"And then our strangling victim runs in- from upstairs, do you think? And also gets killed."
"And then," Brenda said, her eyes darkening, "the clone is either found and killed, or chased and killed. Hades wasn't too sure about which it was, only that there wasn't much trauma."
"From the killing."
"Right. From the killing." Brenda looked down at her fingertips, and growled. "If he weren't already dead," she muttered, then shook her head. "Let's turn in. Hades will be sending the official report over tomorrow. He's still working, I left when he started weighing organs."
End Notes
So, wow. Lots of stuff happened, yay. And see? Fun with mortuary stuff. Next chapter... Eh, I don't know, nightmares from the both of them, probably. And a better discription of Mewtwo's new neighborhood, beyond 'run down and dangerous'.