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piranha & Generalfoley

piranha

piranha

Super-Earth
Joined
Jan 1, 2012
Location
Mars
The alleyway was spattered dark red, coagulating puddles of blood laying around the body. Well, all the various parts of it.

As Detective Reilly Abbot stepped over what appeared to be a lung, she became aware of what she was seeing. It was like a child's first art project, slapped together hastily with the joy and unfamiliarity of a completely new experience.

"Vic's cut up like a Christmas ham." She recognized the voice as her partner's immediately, but simply stared down at the body of a middle-aged male as she put her gloves on. The torso had been ripped open, intestines and bits of flesh spilling out and over his side.

"No shit," was all she said as she felt Marty step up beside her. When she looked up at him, he grinned. In the bleak morning light it looked more like a grimace to her. "Where's his head?"

Marty simply pointed to the other side of the body. A flash went off in her eyes, and when the Crime Scene Tech that had been photographing the body finally stepped out of the way, she saw what her partner had pointed to. The victim's head had been placed on the lid of a trash can, eyes opened, made to look at his own defiled corpse.

"Piece a' paper sticking outta the mouth." He handed her a paper that had obviously been crisply folded at one point, but was now bagged and tagged. She read the typed note in silence.

Ha ha ha, this is the first, but certainly not the last! Have fun, NYPD!

P.S. This guy was a real perv, you owe me.​
 
Joseph Jakosik sighed, pouring himself another mug of coffee. Just another day at work. Yep. Aside from the fact that he just dismembered someone mere hours before. It was weird. He always thought killing someone would be a bit more... Eh. A bigger show of it, maybe. But aside from the disappointment of not feeling much during his first kill, and the staging of the scene, he did feel one thing. He couldn't exactly pin the emotion down, though. Maybe it wasn't an emotion. But that feeling when he killed James Karltin, it was... something else. It wasn't adrenaline, but it wasn't anything he'd ever felt.

Of course, the dude deserved it. Here Joe was, logging data all day, working with this man for four years now, and it turned out he was a serial pedophile. Thirty-two children, he'd found out. Let none who knew him be mistaken, he wasn't doing it to get rid of the scumbag, even if he did need to go. He wasn't going to turn into some vigilante chopping up baddies for "The Greater Good", no, he wouldn't let his kills go to the credit of some freakin' Batman.

Wait... Kills? Plural?

That would mean that he meant to kill again.

He said he would kill again, yeah, but it didn't mean he would really go through with it. Would he?

Maybe he would. He wanted to feel that feeling again.

He smiled a bit as he held his coffee mug within his grasp. Yes, it would be an interesting trip.

Pulling up his internet browser on his computer, he searched the news for any signs of his kill. He found one tidbit of information, an article titled, Molester Dismembered: Vigilante, or Random Act of Violence? Joe sighed as he read the very vague and very limited article. Well, this was to be expected. It had only happened hours before, so he didn't think there would be any real news of his deed out there. He was surprised that this little nugget had been put up.

He heard a knock on his door, seeing one of his co-workers at his door, waving him out. Joe checked his watch, then made haste out of the door with manilla envelope in hand. He was late for a meeting, for his boring, mediocre, mundane job as the Head Archivist.

You'd wonder why someone as the head of anything would become a serial killer.

Before he entered the meeting, he remembered one name in the article he read about his first time.

Detective Reilly Abbot, of the NYPD.

He would remember that name.

He smiled serenely as he entered the conference room. 'I'll be watching, Detective, and I'm sure you'll be waiting.'
 
"You're gonna wear a hole in that thing." Marty's jacket sleeve landed half on her desk, right across the printed note from the Karlton case.

"It's just bugging me, that's all." But it was more than that. Reilly flipped her loose braid over her shoulder, a few strands of light brown hair falling into her eyes as she perused the note again.

"Did you see the paper?" Marty sat heavily in his chair, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach.

She tossed said newspaper onto his desk, folded over to reveal the article. "They're calling him some kind of vigilante. The internet weirdos are treating him like a goddamn super hero."

"Well, he killed a kiddie diddler. Kinda makes ya wonder."

Reilly raised an eyebrow, lifting the bagged note and pointing to the words at the bottom. "This is a post-script, an afterthought. 'You owe me'? He's playing with us." She didn't usually get this ruffled about perps. Sure, as a homicide detective she had seen a great many disturbing things, but she had a job to do. Something about this one was getting under her skin, and she couldn't explain it. She wasn't even sure he was trying to toy with the NYPD, but it sure as hell felt like he was toying with her.

Marty sighed, taking the evidence from her grasp. She was about to grab it back when he spoke. "Called Karlton's employer; no inkling of his 'extracurricular activities'. But they're gonna let us interview his co-workers."

Before he was done talking, Reilly had taken a swig of her coffee and grabbed her coat. "Well, time go fishing for leads."
 
Joe took a gulp of coffee as he worked on the report... More or less. He had been playing Solitaire on and off for the past half hour, and thought it was hilarious people didn't catch on. He heard a knock on his door, and raised an eyebrow. There was Victor Zukoski, his extremely perverted, lacking in social skills half Japanese half Jewish coworker (He couldn't fathom how his name became Zukoski, though). Again. Joe swore to himself that if he heard one more titty joke...

"Hey," He said, closing the door behind him. "Zukoski, I don't care about the sites, but I swear to god, if you get one more virus on the servers from those shemale videos, I'll-" Zukoski shook his head. "This isn't about that! You hear about Jim?" Yeah, he murdered him. "Yeah, tough break." Zukoski shook his head again, more vigorously this time.

"No, not about him dying, about him diddling kids." Joe took on a surprised look, though he knew all about the baby raper. Kept the fucking pictures in his house. "No, I didn't. He raped children?"

Zukoski nodded. "Yeah, thirty-three of 'em."

'Thirty-three?' Joe thought to himself. This time he really did take an expression of surprise. How could he miss one? "Yeah, his own daughter, the fucker." Well, that bastard truly deserved it then.

"Yeah, and now the cops are asking us about him," Now that caught Joe's attention.

"The police are asking around?" Zukoski nodded.

"Yeah, these two detectives, they're asking around, I saw them on my way in," Late again? Joe sighed as he looked at Zukoski. "Well we don't have to worry about anything, then do we? We didn't kill him, did we?" Yes he did. Zukoski nodded as he took a deep breath.

"Yeah, you're right. I gotta get back to work, see ya," Joe nodded, before looking up. "Hey, Zukoski," He stopped halfway out the door and turned around expectantly.

"Yeah?"

Joe feigned a smile. "Stay off the shemale sites, alright?" Zukoski did that creepy chuckle of his and nodded, walking back to his own office.

Joe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Well, the detectives certainly complicated things. Unless it was that Detective Reilly Abbot he read about. He looked her up after his meeting hours before, and she was, he had to admit, attractive. He didn't want to risk hacking into the police database to get the information he wanted, it would lead back to his computer in a heartbeat.

But there was also that... personal touch to seeing someone who's looking into you. Joe smiled faintly before he heard the dim ding of the elevator at the other side of the room.

Back to work he would go. He didn't want to seem like someone who would interject himself into the investigation.

Although...

Maybe he would ask her out. If she said yes, then he could have bits and pieces of insider information. If not, then he'd fall back on the whole hacking into the police database.

'Enough dilly-dallying, back to work,' Joe told himself, taking a drink of his coffee.
 
The elevator dinged softly, and Reilly stepped out as soon as the doors opened. Marty was busy finishing an interview, so Reilly made her way down the hall alone. The building looked fairly new, which wasn't saying much in the city; your standard beige painted walls and gray speckled carpeting.

The ride to the building had done her good. She was still tired from the early morning start, but she had had a chance to clear her mind a bit. The important thing was to catch the bad guys, and she had always excelled at that. This one was no different; eventually he would mess up, and she would be there, ready to lock him up and throw away the key. She almost had herself convinced of that.

At the end of the hall, Reilly glanced at her notepad, and then knocked on the door. "Mr. Jakosik?"

He was next on her list to be interviewed, and she sincerely hoped he would prove more useful than the twenty other people she had already spoken to.
 
Joe heard the knock on the door, and his name being spoken. Without looking up from his paperwork (oh the dreaded paperwork!), he replied, "It's open," Joe signed his name once more on the dotted line. Maybe this is why he chose to become a serial killer. The endless paperwork. He looked up and saw the detective investigating his case. He showed nothing other than a raised eyebrow and a smile.

"I didn't think today was my birthday," He said, before sighing and shaking his head. "My apologies for the bad joke, I'm Joseph Jakosik, Head Archivist of the Times Security Corporation," Joe sighed again before getting up. "God I hate that title. It's too long a name to call a hi-tech librarian. Call me Joe." Joe walked around and smiled, extending his hand. "And who might you be?"
 
As soon as she heard the man's voice, Reilly opened the door. The corner of her mouth twitched up in a smile before she could stop herself.

"Believe it or not, I've heard worse," she said, referring to his birthday line. She grasped his hand firmly when he offered it, taking in the features of Joe's handsome face, studying his expression. "I'm Detective Reilly Abbot, NYPD. If you're not too busy, I'd like to ask you a few questions about your former co-worker, Jim Karlton."

Normally, she'd engage in pleasantries, but something about this guy was throwing her off. Everything about him screamed that he was exactly what he said he was: a hi-tech librarian. Still, there was something there. His eyes, maybe...

Or maybe she was still wound up from this morning, after all. She could feel a headache coming on.
 
"I'm Detective Reilly Abbot, NYPD. If you're not too busy, I'd like to ask you a few questions about your former co-worker, Jim Karlton." Joe nodded, the smile still stuck to his face.

"I'm never too busy for one of New York's Finest," Joe walked over to his desk and stared at his coffee mug. It was empty. Sighing, he looked at the Detective. "I was actually going to go on a run for coffee, would you like to come? I can answer your questions on the way and I'll buy," It wasn't unusual for Joe to leave for his break to head down to the coffee house down the block. But to leave with a pretty woman, however, was something else. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't use the company. Just two people having a cup of coffee, one asking about the murder he committed, and the other feeding information into his answers.

Joe smiled at her again, waiting for her answer. He had been careful at his crime scene; he was an amateur, but he wasn't a fool. He left no evidence at the crime scene, nothing to lead back to him anyway.
 
Reilly hesitated for a moment, looking him over again. Finally she smiled softly. "Well, since you asked so nicely... I'd love to." It wasn't in her nature to flirt with people she was interviewing, but she couldn't deny that Joe was attractive, and there was certainly something about him that intrigued her.

Plus, she had to interview him either way, so getting a coffee out of the deal was just a bonus. She blinked, and tried not to blush as she realized she'd been staring at Joe just a bit longer than was necessary. It was easy for her to slip back into work-mode. It was comfortable.

"So, how well did you know Mr. Karlton?"
 
"Well, since you asked so nicely... I'd love to." Joe's smiled stayed, but his eyes brightened. "Great," Joe said, grabbing his coat off his chair. He never really liked New York's Autumn season. Too chilly, and this year was the chilliest.

"So, how well did you know Mr. Karlton?" Joe shrugged, leading the way down the hall. "I thought I knew him well enough. Worked with him for four years, taught me quite a few things about computer systems," Joe sighed at that. "I didn't know about the pedophilia until a co-worker of mine told me about it. Victor Zukoski, you interview him?" Joe asked, getting into the elevator and pressing the lobby button.

"He's an alright guy, Zukoski. I just wish he'd get his head out of the gutter and stop going on porn during work. I've had to nuke the servers three times already." Joe looked at Reilly. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about Zukoski, right? Creepy as he is, I doubt he'd be someone you'd investigate. But, back to Jim." Joe took a deep breath, and looked at Reilly.

"Sorry, I'm babbling aren't I? I tend to babble when I get nervous." Well that was a lie. But it was a convenient one. "Jim was an alright guy, though. He didn't give any real signs to his pedophilia, and he worked hard. Hell, he worked harder than me, and I'm still amazed that he didn't get my job." Well, that was true. Pedo he may have been, but James knew and did more stuff with computers than Joe could in a lifetime.

The elevator dinged, and he smiled at Reilly, motioning towards the door. "Ladies first."
 
"I didn't know about the pedophilia until a co-worker of mine told me about it. Victor Zukoski, you interview him?"

Her mouth twitched into an exasperated grin as they made their way toward the elevator. "Creepy asian guy who couldn't stop checking me out? Yeah, we interviewed him."

"Jim was an alright guy, though. He didn't give any real signs to his pedophilia, and he worked hard. Hell, he worked harder than me, and I'm still amazed that he didn't get my job."

Reilly looked up at the numbers lighting up above the elevator, one by one. "Ya know, it used to surprise me how much people don't actually know about the people they spend most of their time with." She glanced back at him, her brown eyes boring into his own for a long moment. The elevator dinged merrily, and she stepped onto it, her jacket sleeve brushing against his as she passed him.

As soon as he had joined her, she pushed the button that would send them to street level. "So, no conflicts with co-workers, then? Had Mr. Karlton been acting strange at all in the days before his death?"

Her hands slipped into her jacket pockets. She was dying for that coffee right about now.
 
"So, no conflicts with co-workers, then? Had Mr. Karlton been acting strange at all in the days before his death?" Joe sighed, thinking back. He knew he killed the bastard, but what could he use... Aha, that's it. "No, not really. He had seemed really tired, though, making jokes about the 'ol' ball n' chain'," Joe said, impersonating Jim's southern accent for the last thing. He looked at Reilly. "He never made marriage jokes, not once." Joe shook his head. The doors opened, and he blinked. Zukoski was there. Great. The young man looked at Joe and Reilly before settling for a glare at Joe.

"I called dibs, man!" Zukoski said in Russian that was slightly accented. Joe sighed. "One, I didn't see or hear you say dibs, and second, I won, so deal with it." Joe laughed at Zukoski's glare, but it relented as the young Jewish-Asian man entered the elevator. Joe walked out, hopefully with Reilly in tow. "Sorry 'bout that, Zukoski and I are both multi-lingual and we tend to argue or debate in different languages. He always tries to win with his knowledge of Hebrew, though." Joe sighed, opening the lobby door for Reilly. "And now only a block until the best coffee you've ever tasted."

(Sorry about the wait, had stuff to take care of.)
 
Joe's words gave Reilly pause. The family members were always the first to be interviewed, and Mrs. Karlton gave no inclination of having killed her husband. Of course, she wouldn't be the first mother to find out about a spouse abusing their child who decided to remedy the situation with some good old fashioned violence.

But then there was the note. Of course, she'd have to interview Mrs. Karlton again, which could go bad very fast if she didn't tread lightly. She let out a sigh when the elevator doors opened, revealing the afore-mentioned creepy asian guy who had spent most of their interview ogling her rack. She watched the exchange between them with a seemingly blank look on her face. She might not know exactly what they were saying, but their body language spoke volumes to her. As tactless as she could sometimes be, she was good at reading people.

She followed him out of the elevator, leaving a disgruntled looking Zukoski behind. "Funny, I always try to win arguments with my creative use of profanity."

"And now only a block until the best coffee you've ever tasted."

She grinned up at him as she walked through the door he held open. "We'll see about that."


(No worries!)
 
"We'll see about that." Joe chuckled at that, an eyebrow raised. That was a challenge. Challenge accepted. He sighed, is breath made visible by the icy November air. "So, I have some questions for you," Joe said, looking at Reilly. Know thy enemy, know thyself. But he wouldn't lie, he found her attractive, and worth pursuit. He wasn't a sociopath, he just killed because he wanted to feel that feeling again. He had feelings. Kind of.

"Why'd you become a cop?" Joe asked, looking at Reilly. "Was it that your entire family were cops, your dad was a cop, uncle was a cop, you got bit by a radioactive detective and felt the need to bring justice to New York, what?" Joe was just... throwing things out there. He was trying to make her laugh, but... it was a new experience to try and make the woman who's investigating the murders he committed laugh at his jokes.
 
"Was it that your entire family were cops, your dad was a cop, uncle was a cop, you got bit by a radioactive detective and felt the need to bring justice to New York, what?"

Reilly laughed at that, and pulled her light jacket closer around her. Autumn was her favorite season, but she somehow always failed to dress correctly for the cooler weather.

"Turnabout's fair play." She glanced at him as they walked. "Dad was a janitor, actually. He didn't want me to be a cop; worried about me. But I'm about as stubborn as he was, so that didn't do much to stop me."

Her smile dimmed a bit. She thought of her father often, but her joining the NYPD had always been a point of contention with them, especially after he'd gotten sick.

"I guess I just... wanted to understand all the bad things in the world." The words poured out of her, an emotional openness she was completely unaccustomed to taking hold of her for a moment.
 
"I guess I just... wanted to understand all the bad things in the world." Joe looked at her in surprise. "Well... that wasn't the answer I was expecting," He said, looking towards the buildings to their right. "So how long have you been an officer of the law? A bringer of justice? A detective in a suit? And here's the coffee," Joe said, turning to the right. He opened the door to the shop, Grinder's Coffee Co.

It was a small shop, but the smell of coffee, chocolate, espresso, and sugar mixed into a wonderfully heavenly smell. It was rather empty this late in the morning, but the usual crowd of "geezerados" as they called themselves were at their table, talking. The owner, a man in his forties with brown-red hair and tan skin unusual for a New Yorker came out of the back and grinned.

"Jakosik, how are ya, what'll it be for today?" Joe grinned as he let Reilly in. "I'll take a Serious Heavenly Bliss with a shot and a Cinnamon roll, Mister Miller," Miller nodded and looked at Reilly. He raised an eyebrow before smiling. "And what would you like? And to be clear, the sizes are Short, the smallest, Tall, a medium, and Serious, the largest. The house blends are The Bold Truth and Heavenly Bliss."

"Not to mention it's the best coffee in town," Joe smiled as Miller laughed. "That's very true. So, young woman, what can I get you?"

(Sorry 'bout another late post. Work became a hassle.)
 
Reilly paused for a moment to take in the delightful smell of coffee and chocolate wafting through the shop, and a small grin adorned her features. She listened to Joe order, and turned to Miller once he was done explaining.

"I'll have a Serious Bold Truth, then."

She felt the buzz of her phone before it started ringing. "I'm sorry; I'll just be a minute." Her strained smile was aimed at Joe as she retreated to a quiet corner of the coffee shop and brought the phone to her ear.

'Where the hell did you get off to?' Marty was being his usual loud self, practically shouting into the phone. Reilly winced, and replied in a normal tone.

"I'm interviewing." She knew she couldn't get away with that, though, Marty would know she wasn't in the building. He wouldn't have called otherwise. "...and getting coffee." She added this last reluctantly, rolling her eyes at Marty's response.

'Ooooh, got a hot date, eh? Is it that Asian guy who wa-?'

"Bye, Marty!" She said, with all the sarcastic enthusiasm she could muster. A light blush on her cheeks, she turned back to Joe and Miller, sliding her phone into the pocket of her jeans.
 
'Where the hell did you get off to?' Joe hid a chuckle as Reilly's coffee came first. Miller looked at Joe and signed, 'Bag for the roll?' Joe shook his head, and signed back, 'No, just put it on top of my coffee.' Miller nodded as he placed the shot of espresso in his coffee.

"Bye, Marty!" Joe tried to hide his smile, but was failing miserably as Miller handed him both coffees, Joe's Cinnamon roll on top of his delicious, semi-nutritious hot caffeinated beverage. He handed Reilly her Heavenly Bliss, all 20 ounces of it, and chuckled. "This Marty guy is quite the loud man, isn't he?" Joe looked back, "Thanks Mister Miller, I'll probably see you later today, eh?" Miller laughed as he walked back into the kitchen.

"And I'm a bit insulted. To think, Zukoski would get a date with a real woman, it's quite the shock." Joe chuckled as he held the door open for Reilly. "But, in all honesty, I think he's not who he says he is." Maybe or maybe not dropping a hint at Zukoski's possible dual personality for killing Jim. His kill. "But of course, there could be others. How was he killed?" Joe asked, curiosity filling his voice. It was mostly genuine, he wanted their opinion. "And if ya want, I could try and get into his work computer, see what stuff is on there. That might help, right?"
 
"This Marty guy is quite the loud man, isn't he?"

Reilly simply raised an eyebrow and stared at Joe as she took a large sip of her- she had to admit, delightful- coffee.

"But, in all honesty, I think he's not who he says he is."

"Funny," Reilly said as she stepped through the doorway and back onto the street, "I thought he was 'an alright guy'." She glanced sideways at him, gauging his possible reaction to her repetition of his own words about Zukoski earlier.

"How was he killed?"

At this question, Reilly's face took on a stoic look, like a shield slamming down in preparation of an oncoming attack. In an instant, she was there. She could taste the metallic tang in the back of her throat, see the spatter patterns racing across the walls of the alley. Those dead eyes open and translucent, drained of all life, but staring.

"Violently." That was all she said as she continued walking.
 
"I thought he was 'an alright guy'." Crap. Double negative. Joe nodded. "Aye, I did say that. But that doesn't mean he isn't hiding something. We're all hiding something, in one way or another." Like how he was a serial killer. Well, not yet. He wouldn't be a serial killer until his third or fourth victim. Give him a few months, and he'll have a decent body count.

"Violently." Well of course it was violently. He didn't have much... experience, when it came to murder. He just used a hatchet and a quick blow to the back of his head. Severed spines rarely screamed. Neal sipped at his coffee, nodding to himself. He'd use something else next time. Or maybe he'd keep using the Hatchet. Too bad he wasn't named Harry.

"So," Joe began, sipping at his coffee. Oh, how the world seemed more beautiful with espresso. "Are you doing anything later this week?" He wouldn't make her his victim. No, he wouldn't. At least, not yet. Hell, maybe not ever.

But who would he kill next?

Rival company man maybe?

A lawyer?

No cops, he knew that they wouldn't capture him afterwards.

Maybe he'd track down another pedophile.

Or another criminal of sorts.

It'd be different to kill another serial killer, though.

Did they have a bar that they got discounts at?

Hm. Oh, so many choices...

((Sorry this is late again, I had more stuff to take care of.))
 
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