Wooo hoooo - next chapter tis up^^ FLASH BACK TIME^^ to my lovely dears who live in my home nation of Canada, happy Victoria Day :D
uggg, I'm having one hell of an off week, starting with the fact that I spent about 200 bucks for future shop to figure out the problem with my hard drive was one they could identify and not fix, but they could look into it further for an extra 300. Fuck. My. Life
Why hello thar, who might you be...are you, plot? Sorry, but this chapter is less smutty sexy stuff and more plot building.
"Walker!"
The loud bark cut through the precinct, startling everybody into jumping five inches out of their chairs. Allen's head shot up, his eyes blearily searching for the owner of the voice, though he didn't need to to know who was speaking.
Hoping up out of his cramped office space, Allen half walked half ran to the open office of his police chief, Marian Cross. When he breathlessly arrived in his office, Allen was greeted with the sight of a red head lounging at his desk with a glass of wine in his hand.
"Yes sir?" Allen asked meekly, bracing himself against the chastisement he was sure to receive.
"Where is my latest report?"
"I-it's on its way sir, I just need to get the responding officers statement and-"
"Then get it!" Cross snapped, uncaring for Allen's reasoning. "Oh, and you'll be going on another assignment, pack your shit and go."
"But sir-"
"The only butt I wanna see is yours out the door, now get!" Cross snapped, his fingers pointing to the exit.
"Yes sir," Allen mumbled, his feet getting out of the room and back to his desk as fast as he could. Shoving the nearly complete file into a drawer, Allen grabbed his badge and gun, uncomfortable with the feel of the metal weapon against his hip. Picking up his car keys, Allen rushed out to the parking lot, starting up his old beater and praying that this wasn't the day it decided to die. Prayers answered, Allen sped to the crime scene, unaware of the gruesome events to follow.
Allen slipped under the crime scene tape, his eyes inspecting the apartment hallway as he made his way over to the white sheet in the living room, accented with crimson mist on the caramel coloured walls. Allen focused his gaze on the sheet, kneeling down to take a first glance at it.
Slipping into latex gloves, Allen pulled up the sheet to reveal a grotesquely mangled body, what was left of the face sat frozen in terror, the rest carves into an unidentifiable mess. The body fared no better, the organs hacked and protruding from the pit that was the stomach, ribs sliced in the same way. Allen returned the sheet, trying desperately not to freak out in front of his co-workers.
Taking deep breaths, Allen's eyes traced the remainder of the room, and noticed a leg lying just beyond the body, a trail of blood from it to the corpse, evident that the victim had tried to escape, but failed miserably.
Standing up, Allen felt slightly lightheaded at the sight he had just witnessed.
"Sir?"
Allen looked up to see a concerned officer staring at him with concern, "are you all right?"
Allen swallowed and nodded, but his slight sway gave him almost immediately away. Reaching out, the officer sported Allen and guided him to the couch, sitting Allen down with his head hanging between his knees.
"You O.K Allen?"
Allen looked up from his deep breaths and smiled at his stocky spiky-haired partner Chaozii.
"Yeah, just a bit of a shock is all."
"I can imagine," Chaozii said, grimacing at the amount of blood on the wall, "sorry I'm late, construction round my place is murder."
Allen chucked slightly, unsure of whether or not it was some sort of joke. Rising slowly up to his feet Allen turned his attention to his partner and their crime scene. "So," Allen asked, "where do we begin?"
About an hour later, Allen and Chaozii stood in the center of the room, bags of little evidence surrounding them.
"Find anything concrete?" Allen asked, removing his white gloves and throwing them into a garbage bag.
"I got nothing," Chaozii said sadly, looking at the minimal evidence surrounding them.
Huffing in frustration, Allen paced the room, his finger to his lips pondering. Scanning the body and the scene, Allen turned to his partner. "So, what do we know?"
"Absolutely nothing."
Allen laughed lightly, "not necessarily true. Look," Allen pointed to the entrance, "there isn't a single thing out of place and nothing is broken, meaning that the victim must have let him in."
"Or the killer was here first."
"Mmm, no, I don't think so," Allen then pointed to the location where the corpse was, "look, the body was in such a position that he wasn't running to the door or his phone which is on the coffee table where he left it. In fact, it looks like he was headed to the kitchen, something you do when you have a guest."
"O.K, so what you're saying is that our killer was invited in, as a guest, and then slaughtered him with…what exactly?"
Allen shrugged, "I don't know, but the coroner should be able to tell us something in autopsy."
Chaozii nodded in agreement, picking up the bags of evidence as he left the room, "O.K then, I'll add that to the report once I get all this stuff back to the office. In the meantime, you should get home and get some shut-eye, your next shift starts in 13 hours and you've been working for what, 32 hours straight?"
Allen sighed, as much as he'd hate to admit it, Chaozii had a point, but he would never let him know, "But I should at least-"
"Home then bed." Chaozii stated, terminating their conversation and dismissing a groaning Allen. "Tomorrow you can come in bright and fresh and let those little wheels spin to their hearts content, O.K?" Chaozii reasoned, laughing slightly at the sour look Allen gave him.
"Fine," Allen said, throwing his hands up in defeat, "but don't blame me if you get nowhere tonight."
Allen locked the door of his dingy and small apartment, his coat and shoes thrown into a corner. Flopping down onto his small couch, Allen loosened his tie and stared at the ceiling, his mind running through the day's events.
Allen reached for his camera, still filled with the photographs he had taken of the crime scene. At the scene, he and Chaozii had filled the computer with them before they erased them; or, so Chaozii thought.
Allen flicked through his photos, each different angles of the crime scene and of the evidence until he found the one he was looking for. A picture of a mangled body appeared on screen, protruding ribs and an unstaring blue eye facing an unknown object in the distance.
Allen hadn't been lying when he said he was light headed at the crime scene, but it hadn't been out of fear; it was excitement and pleasure. As sick as it was, Allen was practically envious of the desecrated corpse, not because it was dead, but because of the amount of pain he had received before he died.
Allen's fingers traced the path the murder weapon must have followed based on the marks it had left. He swallowed, his tongue running over his lips as Allen imagined the pain and screams the victim must have made in his state.
Allen gasped when he moved his legs, feeling his arousal growing steadily in his pants as his mind imagined the pain of the victim. Placing the camera on his coffee table, Allen reached into his bag and pulled out his lighter with an engraved monogram , "Mana Walker".
Allen shimmied out of his trousers, sitting on the couch now half naked, his erection proudly portrayed in the cool air. Gritting his teeth, Allen flicked open the lighter and snapped the flame on, staring at the orange-yellow glow it emitted. Sighing slightly, Allen kept the flame burning its soft amber glow while he jabbed it into his thigh.
Allen hissed as the heat burned his skin, a slight smell of burning flesh reaching his nostrils. Curling his toes and rolling his eyes back in his head, Allen tilted his head back and all but screamed in pleasure at the pain the lighter against his skin was causing him.
Allen's scream was silenced when he came, releasing his seamen into the palm of his own hand. Taking his thumb off the lighter, Allen flopped back onto his sofa, his breaths coming in huffs. Snapping shut the lighter, Allen tossed it onto the coffee table next to the camera.
Catching his breath at last, Allen raised his hand still covered his mess, his eyes quivering as he did so. Clutching it tightly, Allen ran to his kitchen sink and began washing it off as fast as he could, even going so far as to use a steel wool sponge and scrape the skin off to get clean.
Slumping against his kitchen counter, Allen stared at his raw and bloody right hand, tears welling up in his eyes as they shifted from right to left. The gnarled and burnt flesh of his left arm was well hidden in his jacket at work and away from prying eyes. Those who asked received the same story; a fire broke out in his house which resulted in his father's death and he escaped with nothing but the arm.
Allen never told the truth, not when it came to his arm nor when it came to his fetishes; they made him feel dirty, disgusting, and ugly. From a young age, Allen had learned that pain felt good to him. Whether they were burns, cuts, or bruises, Allen always felt an indescribable pleasure from it, and could even go so far as to gain a release from it. It wasn't that he was a masochist and that it was all in his head, Allen felt pleasure in every pain he experienced, which both excited and tormented him.
Allen chocking back a sob, Allen curled up with his knees in his chest and his head bent low; he felt disgusting at the very thought of jerking off to some victims pain and a lighter burning the flesh on his thigh as he found his release. Squeezing his eyes shut, Allen clasped his hands to his ears as he tried to block out the sound of tormentors both past and present. Freak…loser…you're disgusting…weirdo…monster.
Allen shuddered as his cheek touched the cool tile floor of his kitchen where he curled up to lay. Calming his sobbing body, Allen felt his eyes close as he drifted off to sleep.
"…and so, because of the loss of this third victim, we now have a triangular search pattern where our murderer should be located." Allen finished his speech to the officers in the precinct, where he had mapped out the location of the three victims and a line connecting them in a triangle formation.
Looking around at the officers, Allen's gaze rested on Lavi and Tyki who were leaning against the wall of the office. "Oh, one more thing!" Allen said suddenly, "it was brought to my attention be Tyki and Lavi, but after consulting it with my psychiatrist Dr. Karma, he also agrees that we might be searching for a partner of some sorts. Just keep it in mind when you're out looking."
Dismissing the other officers, Allen made his way over to the other two officers who were sitting there in stunned silence.
"Something wrong?" Allen asked innocently, looking at the other two calmly.
"No, nothing, it's just that we didn't think you took our suggestion seriously."
Allen narrowed his eyebrows, "you both told me that suggestion with seriousness and confidence; Dr. Karma even agreed that your idea held merit."
"If the idea was so good," Tyki started, "why didn't you come up with it."
Allen responded in perfect timing, "to tell you the truth, it crossed my mind once or twice, but never came to fruition."
"Why not?" Lavi asked him.
"Simple, I didn't think a man as psychotic as this one could have a partner without discarding him in the process. From what I've gathered, he seemed to have no need of a partner."
"What if it's not just a partner?" Tyki interjected, causing Allen and Lavi to look over in his direction.
"How do you mean?" Allen asked, now fully interested in Tyki's theory.
"I mean, this man appears to kill to fill some sort of need, and urge right? What if it's a sexual need and this partner adds to the release, adds to the intimacy of the kill?"
"You mean, like a fuck-buddy?" Lavi asked, as Allen did his best not to flinch at the words.
"I mean something a little more; Lavi dearest," Tyki half teased, "Allen's right, this guy would toss out the first indispensable thing around, and that means that his partner, so to speak, means something a lot more to this guy then just a booty call. If the guy could feel it, I'd even go so far as to say it was love."
"Ever the romantic," Lavi grumbled, "at least you're right about one thing."
"What's that, my dear pet?"
"This guy can't feel love; doubt he even feels empathy or remorse."
Allen chuckled lightly at their banter, he thought it was a nice change of pace from all their seriousness.
"Hey Allen," came Lavi's voice, breaking his train of thought, "just out of curiosity, how close have you gotten to the guy anyway?"
Allen put a finger to his lips, pondering what the right answer would be to that question. "Personally," Allen told them, in an honest fashion, " I would say closer than anyone ever has."
REeeeeeeviieeew...I writes more if yous doooo ^^ btw, I love all the speculation, and no offense to those who do it, but please don't ask me questions like why a character does what. I personally don't like that either so I have devised a way to get you guys the answer further down the freakin road...it's called suspense. I know plenty of you on here have an imagination and can figure it out on your own. Sorry to sound snippy, it just gets a little on my nerves. IT WILL COME! PATIENCE!
Lots of Loves ^^