Chapter Text
“Fuck!”
With a sharp shove, papers fluttered to the floor like wingless pigeons, her chair creaking under her weight as she slumped against it. Behind her eyelids, headlines appeared: ‘New detective cracks cold case with definitive proof.’ ‘Zarevsk’s ghost woman arrested.’ ‘Missing persons case debunked’. Her proudest moments. Cases that had the capital of Snezhnaya stunned, that even seasoned detectives couldn’t piece together—yet she had. But somehow a carrot-headed wizard was stumping her?! The evidence pointed directly to him, with upper-class women and men disappearing during his shows, but according to her superiors, it was all circumstantial. Not enough dirt to throw him in a jail cell.
A groan bubbled from her chest, her elbows leaning against the hardwood desk, tilting her head so she could see the pure white streets cast in hues of moonlight. Funny. The sun was still up when she first got to work—and she had gotten nowhere.
Another all nighter.
Fuelled by frustration, her hands went to the desk to grab an almost empty cigarette box. Thoughts ricocheted through her head like a bullet, but they all came back to him and that shit-eating grin. Ajax Alekseev, other known as Childe. Aged 24. Known for his youth and success in the illusionist business. Bullshit. She doubted, smoke drifting through her office. Her theory? Mr Alekseev murdered people through his shows, and to prove it, she spent months observing him. Watched his victims go missing one by one through the hoax of his performances, silently waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for her big breakthrough.
Her gaze fell upon her evidence board, blank as a sheet of paper. Maybe her superiors were right, baseless accusations would get her nowhere in court. But alas, this case had taken root in her heart. Too emotionally involved with the promise she had made to a life that faded in her arms.
She wouldn’t let another murderer go.
Never.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ 🔎 ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
A pulsing roar of cheers struck from the audience. His chest heaving with adrenaline as a glaring beam of spotlight highlighted the grin that split across his face. Idiots, he thought. They always fell for it, like blinded flies in a spider’s web. His eyes darted across the crowd. So many options. Maybe his next target would be the lady with the stupid feather hat? I mean, wearing that should be a crime! Perhaps the business-man keening at the bar with his mistress? His wife wouldn’t miss him if she found out. No…they were all too petty. He needed someone worth his time, someone rotten to their core.
Bending forward, a crack sounded in his back, the tip of his nose almost kissing his knees as he bowed to the audience. When crimson fabric draped the stage in shadows, a sigh of relief fell from his lips, hands twitching as they fell to his sides. Everything had gone to plan. No screams. No blood. A clean kill.
“The body has been bagged. Waiting for your arrival to dispose.”
The familiar voice echoed in his earpiece. Ekaterina. Years she had spent by his side, analysing each of his stunts, determining the risk level, and ensuring his victims went out quietly. A sharp huff and he was jogging back towards the wings, winding through the throngs of his assistants. Pushing open a door, a chilled breeze hit him in the face, striking a chill down his spine. On the metallic table lay his victim. Viktor Abelev. A man whose greed knew no limits when it came to wealth. His body now still. Unmoving. Lifeless.
“Usual disposal?”
He asked, smoothing out his shirt and peeling off his leather gloves to replace them with plastic ones. Disposable. Just like the man in front of him.
Wordlessly, Ekaterina nodded.