Scissor Sisters
Wednesday, probably the lousiest day of the week. You're too deep in to get out and the only way towards the weekend is forward. It sucks and that in a bad way. Toss in 7 dead bodies, all mutilated in some rather creative way, the reeking stench of blood and top it off with the lovely task of picking up intestines from underneath a sofa that hasn't seen a vacuum-cleaner since the late 50's and you just know you're shit out of luck for the rest of the week, weekend included.
Just another day at the office they'd say, but even the veterans gag at this scene. The only one that manages to keep a straight face is the forensic, Ada Wong. God knows what it would take for her face to turn pale and vomit to come splashing through her fingers as she battles in vain to keep it down. On the other hand, lets hope and pray that we'll never come over such a crime scene, ever. While Leon looked around the dining room he tired to force some common sense into this crime.
The killers were obviously not a member of the mentally sane and normal club, they liked their tools big and sharp and ganged around their targets, whom were all male. Alright, so far things are making sense, Leon thought. Now over to the strange part; there are no hints of a broken entry, suggesting that the killers were either friends, family, cunning enough to get a duplicate key, skilled enough to pick locks or good at timing when to strike. On second thought Leon cut off the last option, since there were a minimal sign of struggle as if it was an ambush, making a clean entry more likely.
The victims were cut down, literary, right where they stood. Judging from how they were killed and the position of the bodies along with blood trail it is possible to say who was the first to drop and make a list from that. The first victim was standing next to a wall painting. So that gives the attacker a 180 degrees to attack from, right? The C.S.I. guys are still patching things up, so they might have missed a spot or a clue somewhere, but as it stands right now, it doesn't make any sense.
According to the C.S.I. guys the blood splash on the walls indicates that the first victim was attacked from the front. Taking the estimated size of the weapon, that's not possible. The victim was standing just 2 feet away from the wall and there's no way a cutting tool of the estimated size could fit into that gap. Leon looked over his notes again along with a rough sketch one from the C.S.I. team had drawn for him. The numbers didn't add up, plain and simple.
Something else was also troubling Leon's mind. None the other victims made a run for the exits, despite that the room had 3 of them, one of them being a double door that lead straight to the main hall and then to freedom. Instead they appeared to have moved away from not only the doors, but the walls in general. As a pack sheep they were rounded up near the center of the room and then cut down. «You're attacked, you head to the exit... why didn't they? Too many attackers, so they had someone to spare to cover the exits?» Leon mumbled to himself, tapping his notes with his wooden pencil.
That didn't sound right. They were dealing with 7 grown men after all, not a bunch of kindergarten kids. A brief thought crossed Leon's mind. It was just a name, a face and a chilling feeling in his spine; Dante. Leon discarded the idea quickly. First of this wasn't Dante's style as far as Leon could tell. These were good honest men, and Dante never made a clean entry, he kicked the doors down and went in with guns blazing. His sword, strength and ability to completely paralyze people with just a faint glare with his eyes made him a plausible suspect. Then again, could one man really round up 6 others like that? It looked to Leon as if they were circled down by multiple attackers, like whales rounding up a school of fish.
Trish, a blonde woman shrouded in mystery, had hinted to Leon that Dante wasn't alone, that he had some sort of devil by his side. That could justify some of it, but even so... «If I remember correctly, Dante's... pet never comes around unless the shit hits the fan.» Leon frowned as he walked outside to catch a breath of fresh air for a change.
Out in the driveway several police cars stood parked, their sirens blinking and flashing up the garden as if it was a cheap disco from the 70's. «Excuse me.» An old man asked Leon. Turning around, Leon came face to face with the old man, whom stood a little crooked, leaning on his walking cane, lack of hair on his head, though he compensated with a really big mustache. «Do you know about this, this Dante person?» He asked Leon. «Ah, no not really. I've just run into him a couple of times that's all.» Leon replied.
«So he IS real then?» The man asked. «Well, yes.» Leon answered, though he quickly added: «I'd recommend that you don't get involved with that man, sir.» The old man didn't seem to listen to the last part of Leon's reply since he then asked where he could find or how he could get in touch with Dante. When Leon tried as diplomatically as possible to refuse to give any details, the old man got angry and started to lash about how he'd lost all of his grandchildren in a single day, how it was HIS tax money that paid Leon's salary and that at the end of the day, the police was meant to serve and protect.
Being afraid that even of he put the foot down and not give any details of Dante's location, the old man might do something rash such as go look after Dante on his own, Leon gave in and told him the address. When he offered the old man a lift and escort, since it was a unsafe neighborhood, the old man's anger flamed up again, this time about what he did on Pearl Harbor on the day of the fateful attack and that he wasn't at all helpless. In the end, Leon was just glad to get away from the old man. Yup, there was no mistaking it, Wednesday's sure suck.
Back at Dante's office, things were absolutely terrible. The stereo system had broken down and there was no way Dante could get anything done without some rock tunes in the background. Well, he COULD pick up one of those books that Trish dropped at him a few weeks back and actually read like he's suppose to. «Meh, the only thing I'll be reading today is Playboy.» He shrugged it off. While he was wondering if he should head over to Sex Club 7 for a change of scenery, a good view (ahem) and sweet rock tunes to boot, Dante got a visitor.
«Oi pops, we're closed for today due to technical difficulties, so take a hike.» Dante said to his visitor, which for the record was probably the oldest person to ever enter Dante's place. «Are... are you Dante?» He asked Dante. «Dante's the name, huntin' the game. Whaddya want pops?» He told the old man. «I need your help, Mr Dante. I... I don't have much money, but...ah...» The old man began. «Look pops, this ain't no old people's home and it ain't no social security either. I don't help old people over the street, I'm in no mood to fix you some new teeth and I sure as hell don't wanna change your diaper, so scram.» Dante complained before he crouched down and turned his attention back to his precious yet broken stereo system.
The old man was boiling over with outrage. Kids these days, he thought to himself before he took a solid grip on his walking cane and gave Dante a solid whack on the back of his head. «What the...?!» Dante objected, rising to his full height in a flash. Before Dante could speak another word, the old man went on with a long and loud scolding. After a good 10 minutes of none stop babbling about how things were so much better during the Kennedy administration and that kids these days where beyond hope, Dante lost his temper and shoved Ebony straight into the old man's mouth to shut him up.
«Pops, meet Ebony, Ebony this is pops.» Dante said smiling. Cocking the gun with a slow click, Dante's smiled grew more sinister. «Ebony says hi.» He said to the old man, whom much to his surprise didn't back down. Pulling Ebony away, Dante crossed the arms over his chest, gun still in hand and leaned his back against the wall. «Alright pops, for real this time, whaddya want?» He asked seriously. «I had 7 grandchildren, they all moved to this town to start over. Combining their savings they bought a big house and wanted to live together there, but...» The old man began.
«...they told me over the phone and in letters that the house was... bad somehow. There was always periods of laughter, wicked sinister laughter, cold metallic clinging sounds as swords or something of the like were being sharpened. But the house was empty! When I came to visit, I found them all dead in the dining room. The police are running around in circles, caught between the naked facts of the crime and common sense. They'll give up soon and the case will be unsolved! Please Mr Dante, I ask not of much, just peace in my final years before I join my dear Ellone.»
Dante thought for a moment, then walked over to his desk and fumbled around until he found a small rusty looking coin. «Heads or tails pops? If you pick the right one, I'll do it, no charge. If you're wrong, walk out without any fuzz and don't come back ever again.» He explained the deal to his newfound client plainly and simple. «H-h-heads!» The old man said with determination, as if he was trying to bend the coin into showing the right side. The coin flipped high into the air and Dante snapped it in mid air as it came back down. Opening his fist, Dante took a pause as he looked at the coin. «Gimme your grandkids address pops, I've got work to do.»
Ada packed down her gear and tore off her rubber gloves before picking up her crime scene kit. Walking out to the driveway, she paused in the main hall and looked out in thin space. Rather than going back to her car to put the kit away, she turned the corner and headed straight to the garage. «Another devil?» She asked into the shadows. «How'd you spot me?» Dante asked, coming walking slowly out of the darkness as if he was made of it. «Women's intuition.» Ada replied with a bored and indifferent face.
A pause followed, Ada hated when he did this. «You shouldn't be here Dante, the police see you as a bad omen.» She told him, knowing that although they wouldn't last 90 seconds against whatever Dante fought on a regular basis, they did take care of the more down to earth cases, which Dante ignored completely. A drop in moral amongst law officers could be catastrophic to say the least. «Bad omen huh? Runs in the family I guess.» Dante mumbled more to himself than to Ada.
The conversation slowed down to a halt again. «Business or pleasure?» Ada asked, dragging the conversation into a limping momentum. «Business, ol' granddaddy wants some rest in his final years, can't sleep well with killers like these on the loose.» Dante explained. «Charity work, you? How sweet and charming...» Ada commented sarcastically. «Keep your sarcasm to yourself doc, it's my charity that kept and still keeps you alive.» Dante reminded her.
Point taken, Ada noted to herself. «So, shall I give you the tours of the crime scene or do you wanna snoop around on your own?» She asked Dante. «I'll do some digging elsewhere first, then come back when your boys are done.» He replied, scratching his nose a little. «Go easy on the guy that guards the scene this time, okay?» Ada said before turning around and walking towards her car. «That last time wasn't my fault, she stood right on top of the bugger and it bit her legs clean off.» Dante objected.
Sneaking out the back, Dante mounted his bike and drove off to the city library. He wasn't much of a reader, but he knew from bitter experience that it paid off to do your homework if you're up against something unknown of the supernatural kind. Armed with address in hand, Dante took on the task to search for clues about the house itself and the people that had built it and lived there. By closing hour he had a vague idea of what house it was and who had lived there.
Riding back to his office to lock and load up with his usual gear, Dante decided that he'd give Trish's books a go. If he could dig something up there, that fitted with the image of the house, he could narrow down the nature of his enemy even better. Well back at the office, Dante grabbed a couple of Trish's books that looked like they contained what he was after. «Okay, lets see...» He mumbled as he sat on his desk with a book in his lap.
Cursed water, cursed mud, cursed rock, cursed grass, cursed clothing, cursed doors, cursed genitals... Nothing in book #1 Dante concluded, slamming it shut. The second book didn't make any sense at all. «Am I even holding this thing the right way?» Dante asked himself, turning the book around in his hands. Eventually he gave up and flipped open the third book. «Awh man, what's this? Latin?» He frowned at the page. «Pretty pictures though... blood and gore, hehehehe.» He added, chucking to himself.
The 4th and last book proved useful. Dante read page after page about spirits and how they interacted with the realm of the living. «Well that should do it. I'll just improvise the rest.» He said to himself before he put the book away and gathered his guns and sheathed his sword across his back. The drive back to the crime scene where he'd talked to Ada earlier was uneventful. Dante's personal urban legend proved handy yet again. Once in the neighborhood of the crime scene, Dante grabbed a empty bottle from a trashcan that stood next to his parked bike and then he strolled casually towards the crime scene.
Throwing his sword into the driveway to catch the guarding officer's attention, Dante dashed around and hit the guard in the back of the head with the bottle, leaving him with a broken bottleneck in his hand and a unconscious officer in the middle of the driveway. «All too easy.» Dante grinned before picking up his sword. Raccoon City was a rough city to live in and random attacks on police officers wasn't unheard of. Dante used this as a smokescreen for his own activities, since he wanted his urban legend alive and kicking, yet not well known enough for the federal government to come knocking.
It was another game of delicate balance that Dante played, not all to different than the one he played with vampires and werewolves, just with different methods and motives. Speed dialing another number on his mobile while looking around inside the house, Dante waited for Ada to pick up. «Dr Wong speaking.» She grumbled at the other end. «Hey, what's up doc?» Dante laughed. «I'm in the tub Dante, what is it?» Ada sighed. «Never fails huh, take a shower or bath and the phone rings. I'll keep this short, just give me brief details on the scene and I'll leave you to your bathing, promise.» He assured her over the phone.
Knowing there was no point in arguing, Ada gave in and got it over with. 7 victims, all grown men, no forced entry, cut down with large scissor like weapons and it was most likely multiple attackers. «Thanks doc, you're the best. I'll buy you some candy on my way home, okay?» Dante joked before hanging up. Straighting up, Dante cracked his left shoulder a little before taking a few deep breaths. «Alright, come out come out wherever you are, whatever you are.» He called out to the empty rooms and hallways of the house as he took another round to look around for something of interest.
Peeking through the double door and over the yellow crime scene tape, Dante got a vague idea of what had happened based on Ada's input along with the blood splashes on the walls and floor. «Scissors, eh?» He noted to himself before moving on to another room. The house itself was empty and its emptiness only increased its sense of size. While Dante climbed the stairway to the second floor, he got the feeling that he was being watched and he could hear faint laughter mixed in with delighted giggling of the insane type. «They are probably one of the low-class evil spirits that can only exist by taking the shape of physical objects that Trish's book mentioned.» Dante mused to himself.
Coming up on the second floor, Dante walked casually over to a door and was just about to open it when he noticed the tips of a open scissor sticking out through the door. The scissor tips then started to slide around over the door and on to the wall on the right. «These evil spirits have chosen deadly scissors as their shape, though why?» Dante wondered as he kept his eyes on the scissors. With the sound of a chilling winter wind, the first spirit slided through the wall and started gliding effortlessly through the room. «Well thank you for volunteering Mr or Mrs evil... thingy.» He smiled at the spirit as he pulled out his guns.
Taking a relaxed aim, Dante fired at will until both Ebony and Ivory were dry on bullets. He did hit something alright, the wall behind and the roof above the spirit, but the spirit itself was unaffected. «Have some manners will you? You know, like... die when someone shoots you?» Dante pouted at the spirit. Their capes proved to be nothing then illusions created by the evil spirits. «Alright, plan B.» He stated, reloading his guns before holstering them and drawing his sword.
Upon drawing his sword it was as if the spirit first took noticed of him. It reacted by giving off a thin and high pitched scream before closing in on Dante's position. Since the spirit itself was quite slow, Dante easily avoided the attack, if one could call it that. It was more as if the two of them were testing each other out. When it descended with its scissors, Dante noted that there's a short moment of time when it was off guard. «Nice... your cape is mine.» Dante smirked with satisfaction as he darted forward for an attack.
With a metallic clash, their weapons connected and was jammed in a lock. Dante managed to juggle free his sword and followed up with a series of quick strikes with low attack power. He concluded that since the scissors themselves were just a weapon, the object that gave this spirit a physical presence must be that annoying mask it wore. So in a nutshell; These evil spirits are dependent on the masks they wear. They cannot exist without them. Which gave Dante the idea of knocking the scissors out of its hands, will leave the mask defenseless. This would be Dante's chance to blast his guns at it.
Dante's theory worked like a charm in real life; a strong and wide blow knocked the scissors out of the way and before it could fall back or regain its composure, Dante blasted away with Ivory at point blank range. The mask shattered, causing the spirit to shriek in agony and horror as it was forcibly dragged back to where it came from. Its scissors flung into the air and dug themselves into the floor before they too shattered and vanished like the spirits mask had.
Figuring that the show was over, Dante was actually quite pleased to have fought a spirit for a change. No blood, gore or dead body to dispose of. It made Dante's day so much brighter. Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as smooth as he first thought. Perhaps there was more to that spirits death scream than Dante knew. When Dante was midway in the stairway leading down to the first floor, several other spirits of the same type came sliding and gliding through the floor, walls and ceiling.
Perhaps the first one was just a scout, that they had somehow smelled Dante's blood and knew that he was more than just bad news. These other spirits wasted no time gliding around, they started right away to circle themselves in on Dante. Being stuck in the middle of the stairway gave him limited options as far as dodging and maneuverability went. «So this is how you did it, huh? Sneak out from the walls, snip, snip one and then circle in the rest? No wonder the guys were neatly lying around in the center of the dining room.» Dante said to the spirits as he kept a close eye on their movements.
The spirits themselves gave no answer, other than their occasional scream mixed in with their creepy laughter and giggling. One of them dove down for an attack, but Dante countered by giving it a few quick and precise rounds from Ebony. Shrieking in pain, the spirit halted its attack and fled through the floor for shelter. «Coward...» Dante snorted, holding sword in one hand, his gun in the other. Spinning around and parring a string of snip and stab attacks from the two other spirits, Dante grumbled to himself in his mind that he should have brought the shotgun with him after all.
Through a series of jumps, Dante managed to get himself out of the stairway and to the more opened spaced main hall. «Okay, look... does anyone of you guys happen to be the one that killed a small kid, he looked just like me?» Dante asked the spirits, whom replied by opening their scissors wide over their masks. «I'll take that as a no.» He sighed before darting into the middle of the trio.
At the break of dawn, Dante found himself in front of a old people's home, where the old man lived. Walking up to the reception desk, Dante said: «I need to talk to one of your residents, an old man... short temper and gives anyone an good scolding.» The nurse behind the desk looked up and quickly shrunk back and into her chair as she looked up at Dante's battered frame. «A wild night on the city, women these days I tell you.» Dante smiled to her, as if that was the reason why his clothes were torn and he had cuts scattered over his arms and torso.
He was guided through the many quiet hallways and finally to room 302 where the old man sat, looking out the window at the rising sun, resting his hands on his walking cane. «Could we have a minute?» He asked the nurse, whom eagerly agreed and excused herself. «Oi pops, how are things going?» He called out to the old man. «Mr Dante, I didn't expect to get such a visit.» The old man greeted him. «Just figured I'd get this out of the world quick, so you don't come around to haunt me. Got enough of those already, no need to start a collection.» Dante said, walking into the room. Looking around it was the same as every other old people's home room; pale and depressing.
«Is it done then?» The old man asked Dante. «Yup, went through every room in the whole house, though there were just 4 of those things. The house is clean and your boys are revenged.» Dante replied. The old man sighed with relief, as if a thousand kilos had been lifted off his back. «Thank you Mr Dante, you're a kind soul.» He told Dante. «Dunno about that, but I have my moments.» Dante coughed.
A pause followed before Dante figured that he'd done what he came here to do, so it was time to leave. «I'll get going, so you can go back to... whatever you spend your days doing.» He said, sounding a little uncomfortable. Walking towards the exit, the old man called after Dante: «Waiting. I spend my days waiting.» Dante halted in his walk and hesitated for a moment before he asked: «For what?» The old man let out a long and deep sigh before he replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice: «Death.» Awh hell, I knew I should have kept quiet Dante thought to himself as he quickened his pace and left the old people's home.
As the lunch break hit in at the R.P.D, Leon dropped down to Ada's place in the basement to show her something. «Hey doc, got a minute?» He asked, popping into the morgue. «Several, none are for sale though.» Ada said with a muffled voice as she chewed down her lunch. «That guy that guarded the crime scene with those 7 men was knocked out last night.» Leon said, pushing Ada's little joke aside. «Some kid's prank.» Ada replied, taking no interest in the conversation at hand. «Several shot had been fired inside the house.» Leon continued, taking a seat next to Ada. «Some criminal thug that was drunk, knocked out the cop for the heck of hit then had a fun time inside with his brand new gun.» Ada, again dismissed Leon's arguments as if they were nothing out of the ordinary.
Leon pulled out a small transparent plastic bag from his pocket and put it on the table between him and Ada. «Your thug didn't carry a gun, more like a small anti-aircraft cannon by the looks of these bullets we dug out from the holes in the wall, the floor and ceiling. Hell they were all over the place.» Leon said, pointing at the bag and its content. Sighing, Ada sat up straight in her chair and looked at Leon. «What is the point you are trying to raise, detective?» She asked him. Leon countered the question with one of his own: «What is the point you are trying to dismiss, doctor?» Ada looked down on the bullets, her eyes drawn into their copper jackets. Her profile, her face said it all; Dante had been there, it was the one thing that Ada's stone cold poker face couldn't hide.