Happy Richass Week. You're not getting italics because formatting is being a bitch.

"Higha!"

Asbel smiled, obliging Sophie with a harder push on the swing. He had the day off, a Saturday no less, and was choosing to spend it with his daughter, just the two of them at the park. He regretted how little time he had for her, lately, and was as excited as she was for their day out.

After more than two weeks without a killing, the case had plateaued, giving them all a much-needed break. That was not to say that they were not still working on the case, but without new evidence, they were stagnating. It was frustrating, but they had little choice.

Truthfully, it troubled Asbel greatly, since they were essentially sitting around waiting for someone else to die, but they just didn't have anything solid for evidence. Hubert still suspected Richard. Asbel did not, especially not after...well, whatever that night two weeks ago had been.

Sophie's laughter made brooding impossible, though, and he grinned while he pushed her. The gloomy day was keeping most people away from the park, but they had both agreed that rain or no rain, they wanted to go out. Currently the rain was holding back, though the sky was cloudy and the air damp. Asbel hoped it lasted just a little longer.

Sophie skidded to a stop, jumping off the swing and grabbing Asbel's hand to drag him to the slide. Indulgently, he picked her up, lifting her to the top so she could whiz down it. After three more trips down, his arms started to protest.

"Use the ladder, Sophie," he said gently. She nodded diligently, scampering off to climb up. Such a good girl.

He watched her play for a while. Normally, there would be other parents to talk to, but not today. It was just him and Sophie.

"Papa..."

It was nice that way. He had had enough of dead bodies and blood and evidence. Nothing could sooth those visions like his beautiful daughter's laughter. Other people would just be a distraction.

"Papa."

It took an edge off the pain, the stress, the difficulty. No matter what happened, he had her.

"Papa!"

Asble started, shaken from his own thoughts at last. "Sophie, wha-" He cut off as he followed her pointing finger, freezing as he saw what-or, rather, who-she was pointing at. "...Richard?"

"I apologise for the intrusion, Asbel. I hope I am not inconveniencing you."

Asbel straightened, the blond's mere presence making him want to present himself better. "Of course, uh, no it's not a problem. Do you want to...?" He gestured awkwardly to a nearby bench.

Richard nodded, walking over and sitting down. Asbel joined him. They sat in silence for a moment, until Asbel broke it.

"So, uh, not that I'm not happy to see you, but what...?"

"Am I not allowed to just visit you?"

"Wha-no! I mean, yes! Of course I want to see you, but..."

"I missed you."

Asbel smiled a bit at that. "I haven't heard from you lately. Have, uh, you been doing well?"

The blond hesitated a long moment before saying, "I have been...better, Asbel, truly. I have felt better than I have in a long time."

Asbel found himself smiling. "I'm glad to hear it, Richard. Did something good happen?"

"You did, Asbel."

Asbel grinned at that. "I'm glad to hea-"

Hubert's voice from their meeting two days before range in Asbel's mind, The change in pattern could mean several things. First, our perp may have moved on. It is not impossible that he or she may have decided the police here were getting too close, and so relocated. Our killer may also be taking a break for the same reason. Alternately, it is not impossible that something may have happened to our killer. Now, it is likely a major change to affect things so drastically. Perhaps something happened to distract or interrupt the pattern, or even incapacitate him.

Now, many killers escalate in response to stressors, however if something good were to happen it is not impossible the killer may take a step back and become distracted-

Something good. Like...

"Asbel?"

"I'm sorry, Richard, I drifted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"I was saying what a beautiful daughter you have. She has her mother's looks."

Asbel forced a smile. "Yeah, she lucked out, there."

"Oh, I do not know about that, Asbel..." Richard was looking at him now, smiling slightly. Despite himself, Asbel reddened slightly under the scrutiny.

When Asbel did not respond immediately, Richard's gaze wandered back to Sophie, who was sitting atop the slide, watching them. "You are lucky to have her."

Asbel hated the way his gut twisted at that, but he told himself it was inot/i because he was suddenly afraid. Cheria. The discussion was bringing long-buried memories and loneliness to the surface. It was only that.

"Are you well, Asbel?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah...you're right, she does look like Cheria."

"...I apologise, Asbel. I did not mean to bring up bad memories."

"My memories of her aren't bad," he said with a weak smile. Then he stood abruptly, the unsettling thoughts getting the better of him.

"Sorry, Richard. We have to go. We, uh...have to be somewhere. It was good to see you. Sophie!"

He scurried away, Sophie's hand in his. He told himself he was only leaving because he had to, not because he was scared. He managed to convince himself.

Asbel was at work when the call came through the next evening, a summons for all available cars to the scene. Flipping the sirens on, Asbel floored the gas and raced to the nightclub. At his side, Jenkins sat in silence, a frown on his face.

"Sounded bad."

Asbel grunted in response, focus primarily on the road. He agreed, though. The dispatcher had sounded controlled. Too controlled. It was going to be bad...

Asbel smelled the blood before he even set foot inside. Before he could step rhrough the doors, Hubert raced over, catching his arm.

"Asbel...be ready," his younger brother warned, looking ashen.

That did little to inspire confidence in him. He took the advice, collected himself...and stepped into hell. Asbel had never seen a crime scene so vile. To his left, Jenkins doubled over, gagging, and then raced back outside. Asbel controlled his own gag reflex, but just barely.

Bodies, so many bodies, that was the first thing to really catch his attention. They hadn't just been shot, either. It was clear the attacker had gone at it with both a gun...and probably a machete.

The club was large. A chest-high bar ran the length of the back wall, and stools ran along it on each end. Tables and chairs decorated the floor around the walls of the room, though many were overturned and scattered. The centre of the floor was dominated by an elevated dance floor. The whole thing was illuminated with colourful lighting.

Or, had been. The main lights had been turned on by the police, illuminating the gruesome display in all of its horror. More than a dozen bodies littered the floor. At least three were draped over tables, the barkeeper was splayed across the bar, and there were...several severed limbs scattered about. The bodies were densest near the entrance.

The floor was slick with blood and spilled alcohol, and it was necessary to step ivery/i carefully to avoid tromping on anything...unpleasant. It made Asbel sick as he strode through the room, breathing through his mouth to counteract some of the scent of blood. Forensics teams scurried throughout the room, photographing and chalking thoroughly. No matter how many people worked though, they were in for a long night.

"...what the hell happened?" Asbel finally asked quietly, ashen-faced as he turned to his brother.

"Fourteen people died, that's what," Hubert said grimly. "Shooter stormed in. Didn't even stop to negotiate, just started shooting. From what we understand, once his clip was emptied, he switched to the machetes. You can see the results. Whole thing took less than five minutes. We have the area under lockdown, but we haven't tracked him down, yet."

"Witnesses?"

"We have a few survivors." Not enough, Hubert's voice seemed to say. "I'm going to have you collect some testimonies."

Asbel nodded. It was preferable to...being in here.

"Let's head down to the station."

"...it was awful." He was speaking to a young woman, only twenty-two. Her makeup was dark smudges on her cheeks and colourful splotches by the eyes. Her blonde hair, once neatly styled, was a dishevelled mess. The poor girl was still shaking, on top of everything. She had already vomitted twice.

"You survived, Jen," he said reassuringly, reaching across the table to comfortingly squeeze her hand. She let out a soft sob. "Nobody is going to hurt you, here."

"He shot Noreen!"

He glanced at his file. Noreen had been the woman's date. She was alive, but in surgery. She would make it.

"I'm so sorry. I have an update on Noreen, if you'd like to see it."

She looked up at that, bloodshot eyes darting to the papers in front of him. He shoved over the appropriate one, which she read over, then promptly started crying. Asbel shoved over a box of tissue.

"S-so, she's going to...?"

"She's going to be fine. I can drive you over to the hospital."

Blinking, she nodded. "Y-yeah, I..." Sniffling deeply, she sat up a little straighter. "You need...my testimony first?"

"That would be preferred, but nobody is going to force you."

"...we were dancing. I...can't remember what song was playing..."

"That's okay," he soothed.

"All of a sudden, people were screaming and jumping onto the dance floor-I think they were trying to get away. They, uh...they started pushing people. I got shoved away from Nor...I think she got stuck near the front, where..."

Asbel squeezed her hand reassuringly. "She's okay."

Jen smiled weakly and nodded once. "I heard gunfire. People were screaming... There were lots of shots, then...a caught a glimpse of him. He...he had a big knife and was..."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Asbel asked after she trailed off.

She shook her head. "He was wearing all black, with a hood."

"Height? You're sure it was a man?"

"...I think so. He was...definitely over six feet tall?"

Asbel made a note. Victims usually overestimated the size of attackers, but it still seemed likely they had a man of above average height on their hands. Not likely a woman, though.

"Did you notice any identifying features?"

"He...he wore gloves. And I think...he had glasses?"

He jotted it down. Richard...Richard did not wear glasses. He tried not to let out a sigh of relief, and felt guilty and disgusted at being relieved. Of course Richard hadn't done ithat/i. Though...this might not be the same killer, he was forced to acknowledge that. There had been no Lambda left at the scene of the crime, though time constraints could explain that.

"Some of the guys...they tried to stop him. He killed them..."

Not all, according to Asbel's notes, though they remained in surgery also.

"I don't know much after that. We got the emergency exit open and ran outside..."

Yes, that had triggered the alarm, and several people had also rung the police at that time. He jotted it down anyway.

"Can you think of anything else?"

She shook her head. "No, I...I..."

He patted her hand and stood. "Come on, I'll take you go the hospital." He needed to check on the other victims, too.

"...thank you," she said softly, standing.

He led her out, and they headed to the hospital.