V2CH7 Fishing Fates
These cases were just some of the suspicious cases that have occurred over the past couple of weeks. Other examples included: a decorated cop shotting a seemingly random man in cold blood, a beloved priest throwing a grenade into the crowd at mass, and a respected doctor putting patients down in mass.
But no use crying over spilled blood, I was on the case now. While I was no longer connected to the MFBI since leaving my post in Sunset City, I still had a badge and an interest in hunting.
The only problem is that I had no idea how to track down a shapeshifter that can change their energy signature almost entirely. I was able to piece together what I think is the creature’s actual signature using the scraps that matched among the victims that I believe met it. All that got me though is that I’ll be able to know if someone within my limited range of perception has a good chance of being who I was looking for.
Instead of searching a haystack for a specific piece of hay that I don’t know for certain what it even looks like, I decided to go with a plan I thought up that might decrease the size of the stack I have to go through.
I first created a bunch of compasses that would point to the person that most resembled my collected sample and linked them to a map of Slaughterville. I then taped said compasses on all the buses that I could find at the depot. Let me tell you waking up before the sun is never fun even when you don’t really need sleep.
I set a city map in front of me to mark my suspects, then got started by sitting criss cross applesauce in my apartment that was about in the center of the city. I wanted a decent response time no matter where in the city I needed to go.
The name of the game was to strengthen the connections between the compasses and the map. Each compass made a line of slightly increased temperature on the map.
Time for my green sun tattoo to pull its weight.
It started as a slight ache that grew ever worse. By the time I had slightly narrowed down the districts it was a severe full body migraine. Yay for interconnected existence. When I finally had general areas, it felt as though I had magma in my proverbial veins. Then I had to focus on the areas of interest, that’s when blood started pouring outside every orifice. Every orifice. But I was done.
Well, I say blood, but it was more the liquefied remnants of damaged threads. I did not even know that was a thing.
As I wiped the “blood” off my body, I looked over the map. It had five burned holes which meant I had five suspects.
The first on the list was Annabelle Lee Rory. I was able to cross her off the list as she was the closest thing to a saint you could find on this earth: organ donor, volunteer at several different charities, devout catholic, and a public defender. While my sixth sense was not good enough to see if someone was a shapeshifter as they were natural deceivers, but finding the darkness inside a heart was well within its means.
And then there were four.
The next one on the list was Samuel Bennet. He was viable as he had quite a bit of darkness in his heart. Unfortunately, that meant I had to follow around Sammy boy until I could either confirm he was the shapeshifter or exclude him from the list. That night I was able to do the latter as he took out a knife and was about to slit a prostitute’s throat.
As a result, I unholstered my gun and pointed it at the back of his head, “Freeze!”
While it may seem odd for me to have a gun, it brought me numerous benefits. Mundane people recognized a gun unlike magical artifacts and thus could be threatened by it. it was not magical so counters to magic did not disable it unlike a lot of my other weapons. It could also be used in front of mundanes, which is always a plus.
“What seems to be the issue officer?” Sammy said with a smug tone.
Cocking my gun, “you know what the g*ddamn problem is. Drop. The. Knife.”
“I can explain.” The man said while raising his hands.
“I’m sure you can. I won’t ask again. Drop the knife.”
Sammy whipped around with his knife, and I whipped around the butt of my gun upside the side of his head. He dropped to the ground with blood running down his face.
I threw my handcuffs down in front of the man, “put on the bracelets. Try that rabid dog stuff again and I’ll put you down like one. Are we clear?”
Again handcuffs were useful for the same reasons as my gun.
“Crystal” he said before promptly putting on his new accessories.
“Great. Now stand you’re a*s up.” I told the man before yanking him to his feet and shoving him against the wall.
I patted the suspect down then asked, “I’m about to search your pockets. Is there anything in them that could stab, poke, or otherwise cause me offense?”
“No.”
With a smile, “Super. See what happens when you follow along.”
I then reached into his pockets and took inventory of what I found: phone, wallet, keys, and a small zip lock bag of tarragon.
*whistle*
“Looks like I found myself The Tarragon Killer.” I said with an exited tone as this was great news. The Tarragon Killer was a serial killer operating in Slaughterville that would butcher prostitutes then spread tarragon over the corpses. No idea why, but that’s his journey.
The only thing relevant to me is that this will improve my relations with the local police. I will let them keep the credit as why do I care. Also, I was new in town and having the police like me is always a plus.
And then there were three.
The third, Carl Geezer, was an invalid in a nursing home. Pretty sure he’s not faking it, but I’ll circle back if the other two are a bust.
And then there were two.
I walked up to the suspects door and knocked, “FBI.”
The growls and sound of claw on wood emanating from behind the door told me to back away from it.
The Siberian tiger launching itself through the door told me that I had found the shapeshifter.
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Gustav Roman
“No matter how beautiful you make your face, it will never change the ugliness within”
Grade B
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