The Seattle Archangel [l?ngt borta sp?kexRin] (18+)

[Guest ♠[Rin]♠]

Rin's character:

 

 

 

Name: John Miles.

Height: 1,78m.

Occupation: Detective.

Nationality: American.

 

_____________________________________________

 

Seattle, America, 1981. As Ed Kemper once said, killing is like a job. It takes as much effort, as much passion and as much preparation as a job did, and after his first two victims, John Miles could confirm it. He had to time things exactly and perfectly, every detail. From the victim‘s arrival to its death to its body being found. Or else he wouldn‘t get any sleep. Now, having two jobs made it worse. John was one of the detectives that worked for the SPD, the Seattle Police Department. He was no popular detective who had solved really big crimes, but he had gathered a lot of experience, and eventually enough to make everything go according to plan. At once point someone would notice that people had gone missing, actually there were a few missing but nobody really cared. This was Seattle, the London of America. Rainy, dark and gloomy, that was the city in a nutshell.

 

When John left his apartment to go to the police apartment, grey clouds hung on the sky and there was a soft thunder resounding afar. Business men and women and kids going to school crossed his path. He squeezed through the crowd to get to his car so he could drive to work. Once there, he already lit a cigarette after climbing out of the car. As usual, he looked quite sleepy, he was a hard working man who never took breaks. He didn‘t really care for breaks. He had finished the police academy and now spent his life solving crimes whereas half of them went cold after a while. The boss wasn‘t fond of it, but there was nothing the department could do. The FBI was working on their new profiling or whatever it was called and it would take time until those high-ranking people would come down to the department and explain what the hell it was. Until then, their work would stay flawed and incomplete, like it had been for centuries.

 

John ducked his head when it started to rain. He hastily made his way to the entrance and finished his cigarette there. Then he went inside, hung up the coat and walked upstairs into the room filled with office tables. John had always been one of the early kind. Daily he got up at six in the morning so he could walk his dog Senu before work. The few colleagues who were there greeted him and he nodded his head in response, walking over to his desk which stood together with William‘s, his partner, in one of the corners. His partner and him had been a team for the past ten years. They had met in the first year of police academy and, honestly, William was talktative and definitely not a boring person. They had made friends quicker than John had had anticipated back then. His partner wasn‘t there yet, but the two files that had been dropped onto their desks caught John‘s eye immediately. A new case. Just last week they had finished the case of a young girl that had been tortured to death and then left in the woods for the worms to eat. They hadn‘t found the killer. It still tore on his nerves. The responsible man could have left the city and be somewhere else taking another child. But here at the police department it was case after case, one closed, another open. That‘s the rules.

 

John poured himself some coffee and then sat down at his desk. He opened the file and could see the photos of the man he had killed two weeks ago. Not a pleasant presentation of a strangulated man lying on the floor of an abandoned house near the church‘s cemetary. Additionally, the man‘s hands had been cut off and laid in a white towel. A classic punishment for a thief. The man‘s name was Raily Cliff, a man who had stolen countless children from their parents and sold them on the blackmarket. There had never been evidence strong enough to prove him guilty in court, but everyone had known he had done it. But John felt nothing. No satisfaction, no anger, no sadness, no remorse, just pure abhorrence.

 

When William came into the room, John could tell. It was this weird positive aura that his friend had that made him so noticeable. And when William walked over to their desks, John greeted him by sipping from his coffee mug. „You are almost late, Will,“ he joked, „almost. Just two minutes more and I could have told the boss.“ His humour was pretty dark compared to other people‘s, but hell, he had known William for fourteen years now, there really weren‘t any jokes that John could surprise him with anymore.

[Guest l?ngt borta sp?ke]

L?ngt's Character:

 

Name: William Denver

Height:1.82 m

Occupation: Detective

Ethnicity: American

 

 

William knew that he was going to break his two day late to work streak today, he could feel it in the dreary, moist, Seattle air when he shut his front door behind him. Pulling back his sleeve he checked his watch to confirm that he still had over half an hour to pick up the coffee for him and his partner and make it through the building to his desk. His father had gifted it to him as a reward when he graduated the police academy 10 years ago, and as helpful as it was, it still seemed to do little to ensure he got to work on time most days. His inability to wake up quickly in the mornings made him thankful for the mornings he had off, despite how much he loved his job.

 

After letting out a hearty yawn he quickly slide into his car and twisted his keys into the ignition, smiling at the satisfying purr his car released in response. It only took him about 8 minutes to get to the coffee shop, like always, even in the compact Seattle traffic. Living in a city so large meant that traffic was going to be a give in though, so he never understood why there was so much road rage all over town. He pulled into the same parking spot he used every morning before work, that sat outside a small, shabby looking family diner. The walls on the walls on the outside were chipped and worn but the place had a cozy charm to it. Once inside he stepped up to the counter and ordered the same as always, two strong black coffee's. They had free coffee at the office, but he'd been convinced for years that if start your day with a really good cup of coffee, then the coffee at work tastes better.

 

Within 5 minutes he walked back out of the store with the two cups and slide back into his car. After putting them securely in the cup holders he checked his watch one more time. He still had plenty of time before he had to be at work. After letting out another yawn he leaned his seat back and crossed his arms behind his head. He figured he would relax for the few minutes then drive to work. However the sound of raindrops smacking against his windshield alerted him to the fact that he had, in fact, fallen asleep. William let out a quick curse and shot back up in his seat before driving the rest of the way to work. "John is going to have a field day with this one." He sighed, knowing that he was doomed to another morning late streak yet again. Though he couldn't help but laugh at the turn of events, he'd managed to get up on time and was still going to be late.

 

Ah well, it wasn't like there wasn't tomorrow. Pulling his car into the station he snatched both coffee's non to gently and rushed inside. Once inside he dared to look at the large circle clock that hung above the entrance and cringed internally. 20 minutes late, he rushed up the stairs and burst into the office. A smile plastered on his face, late or not he was going to have a good day. He made sure to exchange pleasantries and a joke or two about his wet attire with a few co-workers as he made his way to his desk. William rolled his eye's and laughed at John's familiar greeting, before setting a both cups of coffee down on his desk and plopping down into his seat. "Go ahead, he's threatened to suspend me over tardiness so many times at this point. He won't do anything, i'm far to essential clearly." He teased back before setting one of the coffee's on John's desk, "I know you don't care that you start your day with soul crushingly bad coffee, but here."

 

Leaning forward in his chair he flipped open the case file in front of him and his expression as he took in the case photo's. He knew this case, it had been leaked to the press two days ago even though they had virtually no information or evidence on it yet. "I saw something about a body found with severed hands, I never would have thought it was Lincoln." He spoke eye'ing the images before continuing. "He was into a lot of bad business, so it could have been a competitor as a business move. The body would probably have just been disposed of if that was the case though, not presented to us like this. Do you know if they found the murder weapon at the scene yet?" William thumbed through the documents to try and find the list of evidence collected.

[Guest ♠[Rin]♠]

William rolled his eyes and joked about how he was too essential that the boss could suspend him from work even if he had been threatened over and over again. Admitted, the police wasn‘t the best force they had. Especially high-ranking officers, majors and detectives thought very highly of themselves when in fact they weren‘t so intelligent as they wanted to be. Most of Seattle knew that, but the people didn‘t dare raise their fists against a force of armed men. They would be stupid to do so.

„And you think the coffee at the diner is so much better?“ John said, but he still accepted the cup that was put onto his desk. He took a sip and felt how the strong coffeeine shot through his system. „You know, on some days I am convinced that we don‘t need a coffee to start our day with but whiskey.“

 

While William was also looking through the file, Johan crossed his legs, his slender fingers around the cup that spent warmth for his cold hand. There was no physical reaction to what his partner said who immediately assumed that the murder had been committed because of the blackmarket business that their victim had been involved in. His expression remained the same as everyday, because he simply didn‘t care. The only reason why he was careful and cautious to begin with was because he would have to stop if everybody knew what he was doing on the streets every thursday evening.

 

„He was strangulated with a rope“ John briefed his partner. „They found a white rope lying on the table in the old house. The house is actually in the possession of the church. Back in 1916 they used it to hide children and nuns of France and Germany in there during world war one. But it‘s been abandoned in the year 21. Ever since, it‘s just stood there, rotting.“ He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk, taking another look at the close-ups of the severed hands. „The body is still with the pathologist, hopefully Dr. Mazaki will be able to tell us what happened in detail. The crime scene is probably still kept off-limits for the folk, so we should be able to get there easily and take a look ourselves. You don‘t just cut someone‘s hands off after choking them to death. Jealousy or envy could support your theory. Do we know of any enemies the victim could have had? Otherwise we‘ll have to pay the blackmarket a visit.“

 

John was one hell of an undercover activities fan. And that was because he didn‘t care what the boss said, he wanted to know who was responsible for the crimes presented to the police and that was it. He hadn‘t gone through police academy and years of being pushed around as a street officer to eventually get tossed into a tight cube of rules and laws. Sure, William always came late, but they both knew who was really going to get fired if some secrets met the surface. The murderer who had shot his kids and his wife? Couldn‘t have caught him if John hadn‘t searched his house secretly and found the young mistress he had promised to marry there in the basement, hiding. There was always one way or another to get someone. If a criminal was smart, he knew the laws and tried to avoid them, and that‘s where breaking the rules came in.

 

„We could talk to Chuck,“ John said. „He might know what Lincoln was involved in. If he had received any threats. His family would be good trail as well, but they live all the way over in Europe, in Spain. Sending a letter there would be a waste of time.“ Chuck Hillings was one of the whoremongers on the blackmarket. He was a rich asshole who thought helping the police here and there would make him invincible to the law, which wasn‘t true, but such people were better off kept believing it. That way they could use them. Did the boss have to know? No. The lesser the boss knew, the easier him and William got away with it. They were just doing their job, after all.

[Guest l?ngt borta sp?ke]

William pushed the files on his desk to the side and took a proud drag of his own coffee, which was probably as much to blame as his inability to wake up at a proper time for his constant tardiness. Still, he felt fairly confident that after all the work he and John had done for the department over the years, he would have to mess up pretty bad for his job to be in actual jeopardy. On top of that, he had figured out years ago that he and John were probably some of the few 'clean' cops left in the place.He snorted at the idea of Whiskey for breakfast, before retorting. " No bud, I am pretty that it's just your that thinks that one." Tapping the top of his own cup of coffee he nodded. "Best coffee in town, a lot better than the new expensive Starbucks shops everyone flocking to these days."

 

Turning his attention back to the files he took in the small amount of information they seemed to have so far and found, as usual, he came to the same conclusion as John. "I'm going to have to agree with you here, Chuck is probably our best starting point. Most of Lincolns victims were never willing to report anything so I don't think we will have more than a handful of contacts there if any. " At the mention of the oddity of the victims hands he shuffled through the photos until he found one that showed it. Holding it up for closer inspection he nodded, “Yeah, those cuts look to clean to be done before death. I'm figuring that the killer wasn't concerned about the victim feeling that pain, as much as sending a message.” Setting the photo down he took another long drag of his coffee before adding. “I* wonder if there is anything to the rope being white and not tan, that might be a bit of a stretch though.”*

 

Reaching into his desk drawer he retrieved a pencil and paper, and flipped through it to an empty page. After scribbling down what they knew so far he snapped it shut and slid it into his pocket. He leaned back in his seat to check the window and of course, it was still raining. Turning his attention back to John, he concluded. “For now let’s go check out the scene, closed scene or not we both know how nosy people are. The reporters above all else, can’t blame them for wanting to make a living though.” Pushing himself up he stood and gathered the files on his desk before tucking them safely inside of his jacket to keep dry. He picked up the half filled coffee before adding with an encouraging grin, “After we can see what Chuck’s up too, i’ve got a good feeling about this case already.”

 

He walked over to the wall by the bosses office and picked up their cruiser key that hung there over night for safe keeping. After making his way back to his partner he tossed him the keys and motioned for the office door. “After you.”* This entire routine had become the normal for them, and it was one William was happy to have in his life. They had grown and expanded there careers together over the years, so after all that time and repetition they had developed quit the successful groove.

 

He figured he’d gotten lucky to get John as a partner. John had always seemed pretty intuitive when it came to most cases. He was generally meticulous with details and very serious when it came to his work, most would probably say too serious but William constantly insisted it was a good trait to have in a partner.

[Guest ♠[Rin]♠]

William mentioned that the rope was white instead of tanned and it made sense that this detail was standing out. Tanned ropes were the basic, white ones were rarely seen. He himself, even as the culprit, hadn‘t taken notice of this. He only had white ropes, they were prettier to look at. And on top of that, they looked neat when drained in blood. The tanned ropes looked dirty in comparison. His practies weren‘t dirty, but they also weren‘t pure. He fully understood what he was doing, and he completely didn‘t care. He didn‘t see the world in black and white, nor did he see what he wanted to see, instead he saw it how it really was. Tainted, godforsaken, lonely, grey, and filled with mischief and mistakes. His aunt, who had brought him up after his parents had been killed, had always quoted Oscar Wilde. Being the bookworm she had been, it had just been the usual, but some quotes were still sticking to him. For example, „It takes a great deal of courage to see the world in all its tainted glory and still love it“. But no, John wasn‘t couregous. He hated it. All of it. And he was convinced that no matter how much the world would burn, it would never be able to understand his pain. Somehow he was aware of that, and yet he couldn‘t stop.

 

„We should check your rope-thing then, it‘s a good detail that might be important,“ John said, rising from his chair. William agreed to his idea of paying Chuck a visit and he also argued that maybe John was the one who needed both a cup of good coffee and a glass of whiskey for his own. „Well, at least I embrace my thoughts.“ It was a shame that alcohol was not helping, otherwise he might not be doing what he was doing. On the other hand, if he had become an alcoholic, he might as well be lying on the streets, homeless.

 

„Sympathy for the reporters. Well, I guess there‘s nothing wrong with having a talent of digging up dirt about people.“ John finished his ugly coffee and William got the keys just as usual. John grabbed the file and turned around just in time to catch the keys. His partner held open the door he walked through, and thereafter they got their coats and walked to the car. It was raining, pouring almost, but honestly, this was Seattle. John climbed into the car behind the wheel, inserted the keys and started the engine once his partner was on the passenger‘s seat as well. They drove off, into the worse weather possible for studying a horrendous crime.

 

Once they stopped at a red light, John rolled down the window a bit and grabbed a cigarette from his inner chest pocket. He tugged it between his lips, lighting them with a silver Swiss lighter that had originally been his father‘s, and took a deep pull. He was skilled at driving, especially at driving with one hand and the wheel and the other holding a cigarette. John exhaled a small trail of fog and the light went green, the vehicle moved forward again. „Looking at the weather, we might have to meet Chuck in that old bar in downtown,“ he said, his eyes ahead on the busy street. „Let‘s grab a bottle of cheap scotch from the drug store for him on the way, makes him talk smoother.“

 

The drive to the crime scene was a bit longer than expected due to traffic, but the detectives eventually made it there. John parked on the side next to a pavement, turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. The finished cigarette he threw into the nearest dustbin. In front of the team the abandoned house stretched out into the far back. The church was close, only one block away, and in the back one could see the graveyard‘s backside. Barieer tape surrounded the place all over, and of course John noticed a few people sitting in their cars, watching from afar. „Speaking of the devil,“ he mumbled towards his partner but there was no time to talk to anyone, not that they were allowed to.

 

The house was made out of white painted wood, though the door was brown. The roof was deep green and triagle-shaped. White paint had long ago chipped off the walls. A few stairs led up to the entrance, roofed by a veranda. The railing surrounding the veranda looked unstable and frail.

John and William ducked under the barrieer tape and entered the house. The old wood creaked under their weights. Inside it was just a big room with no furniture, but the floor was covered in dirt and dust. The roof seemed leaky at some spots as rain drops were gently drippig down in the corners. On the far right there was the familiar white chalk that had surrounded the corpse that was no longer here. Tiny evidence taps were still lying on the floor, but there were only three of them. Number 1 stood at the corpse spot, number 2 stood where the rope was lying which was also next to it number 1, and number 3 pointed towards a little bit below the corpse, where the hands had laid. Dried blood was covering the floor in a great amount, so dark it already appeared black. In the far back there was a trapdoor and next to it was a staircase, but unfortunately it was broken and there was no other way to get upstairs than to find a ladder.