Chapter Text
One set of quiet footsteps marked the man as the only person out this late. Despite this, he subconsciously avoided the dim streetlights and glowing windows of nearby buildings.
Hunched slightly, his hands firmly in his pockets (perhaps too firmly, as the pressure on his pocketknife slices his finger slightly, only adding more to his boiling pot of anger.) He huffs slightly, wiping the blood off on his coat and pulling out his phone.
No response.
The grip on his phone tightened as he looked up, eyes locking on the only other person in the street. A thin, shorter man, still in a fast food uniform. Clearly coming home from a late shift.
The taller man follows like a shadow.
After a few blocks, the man looks up suddenly and turns, startled.
The taller instantly is on top of him, one hand covering his mouth with a rag and the other gripping his wrists, leading him into the nearby alley.
The man's head was slammed against the wall, dragged slightly across the rough surface, tearing at his skin and leaving a small blood trail across the already red brick. A firm hand held his face to the wall, slowly applying more pressure as he silently drew a knife from his coat.
He turned the man's head around forcefully, his own face still bathed in the shadows from the streetlight somewhere behind them.
Raising the knife to the shorter man's lips, he watched his expression for a moment. Taking in each terrified breath, each glance behind him, trembling and eyes wide. He pressed the knife harder, a barely audible
clink
as the metal hits teeth.
He draws the knife down, forcing his mouth open more, before in one quick motion he slashes the sharp metal through the man's mouth, slicing through tongue and jaw muscles. The action is met with a scream of pain from the man, quickly silenced with another carefully aimed slice of the knife, pressed against the bottom of his jaw and cutting down through his throat. He watched the man struggle with mild interest, choking on his own blood until he fell limp. Finally letting go of the man’s now dead body, he pulls out the rag again, wiping blood from his hands and knife before returning both to his coat pockets.
He sits down in a nearby chair meant for employees on their smoke breaks, pulling out a small piece of paper and a pen. He jots down something, writing quickly but each word still deliberate and thought out. He finally stands up, leaning down to the dead body, drawing his finger through the blood and leaving a small smear on the note. A signature, maybe. He sets the note down on a box next to the body (don't want to get it too covered in blood, now!) before brushing dirt off of his jacket lightly, as if he hadn't watched a man’s life leave his eyes. He turned, walking briskly out of the alleyway and into the streetlight.
Click.
He watched the camera dispose out the image slowly, shifting slightly to look away from the gruesomely mutilated body. He always wondered why people said a picture speaks a thousand words , and now he’s slowly piecing it together.
The blood splatter on the wall with a slight smear to it. The dry blood that dripped down the wall only, what, a few hours ago? A day ago? He frowned slightly as he raised the camera back up to his face-
“Brutal, huh?”
He nearly dropped his camera as he jumped, glaring at the man behind him.
“Aren’t you here a little early, Puffer ?” He mumbled, taking the photo before turning around, facing the taller man.
“Don’t say you’re getting tired of me, Smitty ?” He said, repeating the same tone the other used. “Besides, I'm just checking the damage.” He crossed his arms, Smitty noticing the crimson red cut on one of his fingers.
He raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”
“Huh?”
“Your finger.”
“Oh, probably just cut it while cooking, or something. Not a big deal.”
“Here,” Smitty huffed, fishing into his pocket, digging around the lint for the last bandaid he had. He always kept some in his pocket, just to be sure- he himself was clumsy after all. He’d have to restock his pocket once he got home. “Let me see it.”
“Like I said, it’s not a big deal..” The older trailed off as Smitty wrapped the bandaid around his finger, the cut stinging slightly at the pressure. “Well…thanks?”
“Don’t mention it,” He looked up at Puffer, the height difference becoming increasingly obvious. The two stared at each other for a moment, slight tension rising in the air, before the taller cleared his throat. “You should get back to doing your job, y’know. Don’t let me distract you too much.”
Smitty rolled his eyes as he turned back to the body, trying his hardest to ignore Puffer now, his face stuck in his mind. More like his expression, because there was something off about it, but Smitty had a job to do.
“What’s that on the body?”
“The box? Or the note? I was saving those for last,” Smitty grumbled, approaching it. “Curiosity killed the cat, y'know.”
“You're one subtle cat.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He snapped back as he picked up the two items, giving a suspicious glare at the other man before reading the note over briefly, eyes narrowing as he crumpled it up in his hands and stuffed it into his pocket, turning his attention towards the box.
“What did it say?” Puffer asked, a weird hint of something in his voice, though Smitty couldn’t tell what.
“None of your business,” Smitty grumbled, studying the box in his hands.
The box was made of black leather and the bottom soaked in blood from the body, Smitty handling it carefully in case it had fingerprints on it- or in case he would put his own fingerprints on it, and someone could frame him. It seemed like it was slightly bigger than your average wedding ring box, and a foul stench protruded from it as he brought it closer. He ignored the man hovering over his shoulder, gently lifting the top of the box open-
He felt like throwing up.
Inside the box was an actual heart - presumably carved out of the corpse in front of the two. It was crimson red, and horribly enough, still pulsing slightly. It was in a puddle of blood in the box, the only thing that wasn’t crimson red were the blue veins sticking out of it. The arteries were wrinkled and sagging into the blood, and a faint, disgusting vibration-esque sound emanated from it.
It took him a minute to rip his eyes off of the gruesome sight, closing the box and putting it back down, gulping down the vomit in his throat and turning to Puffer.
“You can get Pezzy or someone else to deal with this shit. I need to go home and…bleach my eyes or carve them out with spoons,” He huffed, pushing past the taller man and out of the alley.
Puffer frowned slightly, wanting to retort but decided to keep his mouth shut, his eyes not leaving the other until he was out of sight. He turned back towards the body, reaching for the box to throw it in the nearby dumpster.
Good thing he’s a fucking idiot.
To be honest, Puffer could have been way more careful last night; the man's screaming, the handwriting on the note, hell even his fingerprints. He leaned down, starting to take care of his mess and clean it up a lot more properly for whoever would take Smitty’s place as the detective.
Hell, even the weapon was right there.
Last night was just a small fit of rage, he reminded himself as he fixed his sleeves, pulling out his phone out of his pocket and making a call, ignoring the messages that his phone opened up to.
Bear Cafe, Midnight, Friday
If you dont show up, I will kill the owner
-Yours truly
<3