NationStates Jolt Archive

Lian walked through the streets of the Blycaafian city of Brownfield, the first one to be established on this island during the Arani-Blyclaaf war. He pulled his heavy hooded jacket closer around him, to keep off the cold which the winter months inflicted. The hood would also stop people from seeing his face, and his enormous clothes would make him look far thicker than he really was. Being recognised as a half-elf by his size would rule out most of the population of Blyclaaf, and he would rather keep the authorities guessing.

There was an apartment which he was aiming for, where there was a woman which he wished to kill. He smiled at the thought of it, being rid of her meddling from his life, what he had wanted from the day she had divorced him, after dragging him out to this surfacer shithole to live with no money to get back to Arani. She deserved it, and he hoped her new husband would be home...

His quick stroll through the lobby of the apartment complex was quietly ignored. He had once been a regular through here, and none raised an eye to his heading for the elevator. He pressed the button to the floor he wished to go to, the fifteenth, and waited alone, wondering how he would do it. The scenario which he'd run through his mind came back again. It was simple, walk in, stab her, and leave. That was the plan, at any rate. Under his jacket there was also a coil of rope, and he knew where all the sturdy pots and pans would be kept in her apartment. Stabbing her would be best though, he considered.

Her room was at the end of the hall. He walked it's length, and politely knocked. Her shout came back. "Coming!"
The door opened, and her look immediately went cold.
"Lian, what are you doing here?" she said, hostility in her voice.
"I wish to speak with you on something," he grinned at her. "May I come in?"
"I have nothing to speak with you about," she said, but stepped back anyway. Lian grinned, and stepped through.

"How is your new husband going?" he asked, once he had seated himself upon her sofa.
"That's none of your business. You'd best leave before he wakes up, he'll kill you."
"I'm sure he will," He leaned forward towards her, and she recoiled back. He shot an irritated glance at her. “How am I supposed to whisper words in your ear if you jump off like that?”
"I want to hear nothing from you. You should leave," her voice was firm, she did not suspect the murderous and overly dramatic words which he had planned to speak into her ear.
"Theatrics are wasted on you," Lian sighed, and stood up, a hand discreetly moving to the knife concealed beneath the jacket.
"That's right, it is, now ... what are you doing?" he chuckled. A silly question to ask to one with a knife in his hand. He stuck it in her stomach.

She didn't scream then, but stared rather in disbelief, so he took it out and put it back in somewhere else - her throat, cutting the jugular vein and smiling broadly as the blood sprayed out in an arc over him. Her disbelieving look made him smile all the more, and her staggering made him chuckle. It only took a few minutes for her to die, colouring the floor prettily in red, her corpse lying on the tiles with it all around her. Lian sighed, contentedly, and stepped back to truly appreciate his work.

There was more that needed to be done though, a man who was asleep, no doubt in the bed which Lian himself had once slept in, and he sought it out. Yes, there he was asleep. Lian wondered whether his blood would look as lovely as his wife's had, and stabbed him ten times in the chest to find out. Yes, it was. Maybe even lovelier, staining the sheets as it did.

Lian took off the bloodstained clothes he was wearing and packed them into an old sports bag. The thrill of murder had warmed him sufficiently so he could get home, anyway. He left the building down the fire escape, and drove home quietly, planning for the next time he may see blood splatter.

He pushed his cart along the fifteenth floor hallway. He had already cleaned the rest of the rooms on this floor, as well as all the ones from the 12th up. The white shirt he wore was wet around his armpits and along his back.
“One more to go.” He said as he reached the last door. He turned his cart around so it could be pulled in the room when the door was open. He knocked on the door. To his surprise, there was no answer. He checked his watch. 11:32 am. He was right on time.
“Hello, is anyone home?” he yelled into the door as he knocked on it a second time. Again, only silence replied.

“Yes ma’am, she’s usually at home for me to clean the apartment,” the cleaner told his boss, the owner of the apartment complex. The two were in the elevator, headed towards the fifteenth floor.
“Well, I can let you in to clean. But the first complaint about stolen stuff, and your arse is grass,” the owner of the building said. She was an older woman, in her fifties, her dyed red hair hanging roughly over her head and down her shoulders. “You do know it’s early, right?” she asked him. “I’m not due to wake up for another hour yet.”
He didn’t answer her. The bell in the elevator rang and the doors opened to present the fifteenth floor. The two walked out. The owner of the building attempted to gracefully glide down the hallway, but tripped on her slipper and dropped her cigarette on the carpet floor. She cursed the cigarette and put her slipper back on and continued on down the hallway.
They stopped at the door with the cleaning cart in front of it. The owner put a wrinkled hand in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a mass of keys. She sorted through them until she found one that said “15th floor: Uni Key.” She inserted the key in the keyhole and turned the key.
She grabbed hold of the doorknob, turned it and barged it with her shoulder. Her first attempt failed and she tried it again. The door flew open.
“What the fu…?”

“Now, tell me what you saw?” Officer Farva asked the owner of the building.
“Well, after I barged the door open, I saw Mrs Chay lying on the floor with her throat hanging out and blood all over the new carpet and the freshly painted walls.” She said.
“And when did you notice the dead man in the bedroom?” Officer Farva asked.
“What? There’s a dead man in the bedroom?”
Officer Farva sighed and looked at the floor. He could feel a migraine coming on. This is all he needs. A double murder and the owner of the building only cares about cleaning the place up and getting new tenants in.
“Hey, Sarge, I think we found something in here!” an officer called from the bathroom.
Farva moved into the bathroom where several officers were congregating around the toilet.
“What’ve you got there?” he asked as he shoved his way into the circle of officers.
“Vomit, sir. Looks like it may be a clue.”
The cleaner yelled from where he was being questioned “That was me, sorry!”
Farva let out another sigh and flushed the toilet. After he got the other officers back to work, he walked out to the cleaner.
“You did that?”
“Yes sir, I have a pretty weak stomach. When I saw them dead, I gagged and did that.”
Farva hung his head in hands and went outside to escape the incompetence of the men in the homicide unit he was given and the smell of rotting human. He opened the door and a thousand cameras flashed and a million reporters mugged him, waiting for a story.

‘“This is Channel B Nightly News’
Today’s top stories
Man is saved from run away train by ferret
V8 Shopping Trolley Drag Racing causes fatalities
And the Blyclaafian military lashes out against the release of “The Aranian Civil War: The Allied Screw Ups” on DVD and Video Cassette

But first, a double murder occurred in Brownfield yesterday. The victims were Mr. And Mrs. Chay. It is believed that crazed Annilon supporters killed the female Aranian Immigrant for being a ‘traitor’ and marrying a Blyclaafian Civilian. Police Officer Farva had this to say. ‘Look, I don’t know what the hell happened here last night. But, from what he have seen, we have ruled out robbery. We believe it may be a suicide/homicide case, but we won’t know for a while. And, off the record, the officers they left me with really are the worst set of motherfu…’ We will keep you updated. Now to our next story. In a miracle of the animal world, a man was saved by his pet ferret from a run away freight train…”

The red light district of Brownfield was usually quite well lit, to discourage crime from these rowdier and less reputable areas. There were however some even less reputable places with in it where no lights were shone unless significantly dimmed, for the sake of those who would rather not be recognised. These places were higher paying than those cleanly lit, and those prostitutes who dared to work them could expect to take home a good profit for a night's work.

Certain dangers were expected there, and Lian expected that the young girl ahead of him was armed somehow. She was obviously a prostitute, even though she didn't wear the normal skimpy skirts and tight tops of one but rather wore a full dress, a rare sight in the late night streets of Blyclaaf, though less so for one who was an illegal prostitute. He guessed that she would be under the legal age, such 'disguises' were necessary, a policeman would probably only take her home if he saw her, rather than arrest her on sight. Their nativity amazed him, though he had never seen the hefty bribes the girls manage to discreetly slip to the police.

She smiled at him as he walked towards her. Eighteen or nineteen, he guessed, and pretty.
"Hello, young lady. What brings you out here so late?" he inquired, and she smiled at the necessary formality.
"Why, I was hoping for a man to come and take me home. Would you be such a man?"
"I would," he said, smiling back at her and entwining his dark fingers though her pale ones. "Most certainly."
He gave her arm a sharp wrench, and she let out a tiny yelp of surprise. With his other hand he pulled out the length of rope from his new jacket pockets, the last one having being resigned to a rubbish bin. He jerked his fingers away from hers and took hold of the other end, and before she could utter another sound the rope was taunt about her neck, cutting off her airway and voice.

Strangling her would have been easy, her frantic struggling wouldn't have lasted long. Instead he moved the rope around so he could hold the ends in one hand, while his other dived back under his jacket to the knife kept there. With the loosening she twisted furiously, burning her neck on the rope even more and still unable to scream. His arm with the knife hugged around her waist and went into her gut, her frantic twistings wrenching it about. Lian stood still and let her ruin herself upon it.

Soon she was slumping, breathing fading into short, light puffs. He took the knife from inside her, and using the rope to keep her head upright, raised it to her throat and opened it wide and deep. The blood spurted down, over his knife hand and her dress in a warm torrent. As if a vampire he lent over her and took a lap of it with his tongue, reveling in the metallic taste. No wonder blood suckers enjoyed it so much.

When she sagged heavily on the rope and her breathing had stopped altogether he let her fall to the alley, concealed his weapons and slipped off, disappearing into the night.

Sirens wailed out into the morning’s silence. It was about 5 o’clock; no one was stupid enough to get out of bed at this hour. The men had to though. Officer Farva and a new team of homicide detectives drove like bats out of hell towards the bloody part of the sidewalk.
“Well,” Farva said to the detective next to him, “It’s about bloody time someone started killing people so we can actually do something instead of arresting hookers all day long.”
The passenger just grunted and looked out the window. Nothing was awake in the Red Light District. Drunks and drug addicts lay sprawled out on the footpath, either asleep or unconscious. He watched a drunk roll over as the car pulled over.

The sirens stopped their annoying wailing and the doors opened. Five officers stepped out on to the footpath.
A dog sat in the pool of blood, it’s face covered in blood. In fact, it’s whole body was a great bloody mess, and from it’s mouth hung a bone.
“Shit,” One of the Rookie detectives said, “Well, I reckon the dog killed her.”
“Nah, that’s not it, a dog couldn’t do all of that.”
The dead woman’s flower dress was ripped and torn, showing different parts of her body. Her face had bite marks in it, and one of her ears had been ripped off.
“Get to work, guys.” Farva said as he reached in the car window to get the radio and call for a dog squad.

For hours, with on lookers staggering over to have a look at why there were so many cops in the area, the officers gathered evidence from the surrounding area. Dog hair, blood, torn bits of dress and even photo’s were taken. However, no one was game enough to touch the body.
“It looks pretty screwed up,” said the rookie, “It’ll most probably fall apart in our hands if we move it.”
An onlooker, obviously hung over, walked into the group of officers that were surrounding the body.
“I’ll move it,” he said, “The sooner I get rid of you guys, the sooner…” he paused and grabbed his head. He clenched his eyes closed and let out a little yelp.
“Sir, I think you should just lie down.” Farva said, and helped him over to his ‘house.’
“Bugger it,” the rookie said, “Give me some gloves.”
He pulled the rubber gloves on and grabbed the body by the hair and lifted the head up.
“Hey, check this out.”

“Well, sir, good old James over there found the she had mild burn marks on her neck and a deep cut in her throat.” Farva told Chief Grady over the radio.
“That’s good, anything else we can use to find out who the bastard is who did this?” Grady asked, his voice hardly picking up over the old outdated CBs.
“No, sir. That stupid friggin’ dog chewed most of it up.” Farva said.
“Well, keep looking, we’ll find something. But put that dog up on murder charges anyway.”
“Yes, sir” Farva put the radio back in the car.

‘“This is Channel B Nightly News’
Today’s top stories:
Mafia Kingpin discovered cut up and frozen in local Chinese Resturant
Blyclaafian Heavy Metal band, "Heigelgagglegerk", loses bass player at bus stop
and the Blyclaafian Military withdraws it's complaints against the producers of the "Aranian Civil War:The Allied Screw Ups"'

But first, another murder occured early this morning, in the Red Light District of Brownfield. Police at the scene had this to say; "When we arrived at the scene, there was one Pit Bull Terrior gnawing on the dead victim's body." Officer Farva, who also investigated yesterday's murders had this to say, "We have identified the victim as one Gladdis Harding, an illegal hook...uh, I mean prostitute. We have arrested the Pit Bull and are charging him with first degree murder. There were signs of the victim having her throat slashed by a sharp instrument, but we shall interogate the suspect at a later time."
Police are still investigating the scene.
To our next story. Blyclaafian Heavy Metal band "Heigelgagglegerk" lost their bass player this afternoon at a bus stop three miles outside of Brownfield's neighbouring town, Bransville. "We Don't know where he went," guitarist and lead vocalist, Jonny Trujillo, said this afternoon. "He just vanished. He went into the toilet and disappeared."
We'll be back after the break."