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Dark Rising
Detective Celeste Simon was the first person on the scene. What she saw was, to her, magic presented in a gruesome symphony of shredded limbs strewn about in reckless abandonment; or maybe purposefully as to declare that the killer was indeed untouchable. And there, in the center of it all was the message, “Give up, or we will kill them all” written majestically in blood and remnants of human entrails. Celeste took in a deep breath. This orchestra of death wasn’t the killers first display of madness. No, this was the third scene in a month. The worst set of killings in the city’s history. She’d seen a lot of crazy shit but this one took the cake. Still, there was something eerily familiar about how the bodies were dismantled. She knew the killer enjoyed his kills. He or perhaps they enjoyed shredding the victims in an animalistic ritual. Celeste spun around, breathing deeply, taking the scene in. Her mind wandered settling on the message the killer had left this time. “Give up.” This message was obviously intended to he heard by someone. Celeste combed her hand threw her shoulder length curly hair as she racked her mind and tried to re-create the scene in her mind. She knew the GenX, a rogue genetic experiment gone arry, had to be responsible for the latest sting of murders but she simply was sure why. Why these people? Why here? Why now? Secretary of state Roan Mars created the program and it was to be kept under wraps until the experiments escaped. He created a shit storm and had no problem created a half assed story to sate the backlash that always comes with “secret” government controlled chaos. Mars was man was out of control but nobody seemed to sense that but Celeste. If this was the work of GenX, things were about to get messy. This meant war.
“What do we got Celeste?” Captain Michaels loud voice boomed and echoed across the room startling the forensic droids who were busy collecting samples and examining the crime scene. “What kind of fucking psycho path do you think did this? Who should we be looking for?” the captain asked while taking in his surroundings in complete disgust. Captain Michaels stood solid hovering somewhere just above six feet and was built like an ox. For an older guy he was pretty handsome in his own right and regarded Celeste with love and respect. She was the best detective in his unit. Her instincts were unparalleled.
“I know you may not want to hear this captain but this looks like the work of GenX after taking into consideration the other killings that’ve occurred the past few weeks. The style is the same. Always gruesome but they are getting more violent. They want to be heard and someone has to listen”, Celeste answered absentmindedly still trying to get her mind around exactly what may have happened from start to finish.
The Tarot Card Killer
Janelle’s breath came out in short gasps as she dragged her body across the cold floor. The small sliver of light peering through the basement window gave her hope. Her life wouldn’t like this. She wouldn’t be another beaten and bloody body gone and forgotten. Janelle reached out her hand to the latch on the window and her world went black. Rest in peace….
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Clyde Benton finished his statement pleading guilty to the last of the eighteen most brutal murders in Baton Rogues history. The media dubbed him the “Tarot Card Killer”, as was part of his MO to leave a card behind, but to Clyde it was so much more than a sick, twisted game. This was his life. He got off on seeing these females tortured and dismembered. His semen was the only traces of his DNA on their severed heads placed carefully on a meticulous alter in the middle of each crime scene. The remaining body parts were always laid out on the floor outlining a gruesome pentagram. Clyde loved the screams, the struggle, the smell and even the feel of the warm blood against his cold skin. Smiling as he recalled just how rock hard their naked dead bodies made him, he looked up at detective Porter. His dark eyes outlining her body, picking her apart in his mind, he licked his lips and spoke in a slow entrancing southern drawl; “You know detective, I could’ve added you to my collection. You are exquisite indeed. I wonder what you would smell like once I gutted you. Would you scream? You look like a fighter. I like that.”
“Fuck you Benton. You piece of shit. You think this is funny don’t you?” Detective Porter swallowed slowly, her throat getting dry in disgust. “You’re going to get the death penalty for this. I can guarantee you that. It’s my sincere hope that someone rips your balls of and shoves them down your throat but unfortunately for me the legal system doesn’t share my idea of justice.”
Clyde leaned back in his seat. “See, you’re gorgeous but not quite that intelligent. My life doesn’t matter. You can sentence me to infinite deaths but my work was for a purpose. Those women needed to die. You cannot stop death. It is for a purpose and will continue even after me.” Clyde tilted his head back in amusement and let loose a slow laughed that sent chills down Porter’s spine. Although she was the best detective in homicide, something about this case had always rubbed her the wrong way. She studied Clyde as he laughed. For a man about to die he was definitely a cool character. There was no sweat on his chestnut skin and his low cut was kept to perfection. His nails were perfectly manicured and his demeanor was unmoved. To him this was just another day like any other.
“What is the purpose of death Clyde? We all know that to live one must eventually die. So what is the purpose? What is your purpose and who are you working with? Who will continue this when you’re gone?”
Clyde’s laughter that echoed madly off the walls of the interrogation room suddenly stopped. “Celine Porter… My dear, dear child. The purpose is and always has been… you. They took the deck of cards I had with me but you darlin’… Yes, you have a very interesting future.”
