Rain is the most depressing weather condition in a big city. It washes the grime from the streets into the gutters. As the gutters overflow, peoples emotions get bottled in. Stuck. Confined. Like a ship in a bottle. You can tell what kind of person someone is by how they respond to this confinement. Some people play for an honest-to-goodness family board game night. Some sleep. Some drink. And some commit murder, to free themselves from the malaise, the malady of the rain.

Cold. Streets. Alleys. Emotions. The predator slipped through the shadows, a wraith in a tattered robe of blue plastic tarp. Hands closed in front of its chest, holding the robe tight around its form. Its neck.

Red. Stains. Dirty. Earlier that evening, someone had been eating hamburgers with plenty of ketchup. So much sugar in ketchup. The predator knew. It would be the death of them.

Red. Not ketchup. Blood. Maybe the ketchup hadn't been the only thing around to kill people, that night. His mouth. His jagged lips. Cheek muscles pulled tight in a smile as it slunk through the alley slime. Tonight had been good.

~*~

Raspberry-blueberry lights on the city street outside the small apartment duplex. Restless observers, standing around. They held their hands cupped in front of them, blocking their breath from making mist in the cold air of the night.

The police had been called in to respond to the discovery of the victim. Roberto Marten. Former father of one. Divorced. Put out. He'd been a heavyset man in his 30s. Unshaven, with a coarse scruff of black on his face. He'd had curly hair that had fallen around his neck on his head, when he'd been alive. No longer. Not much of a neck.

Detective Drake turned away from the gruesome scene to speak with forensic investigators about the discovery. There was another monster in the city tonight. He wanted to get his facts straight.

There had to be a correlation. The dark wet weather and murder. Something about the one always seemed to bring about the other. Maybe people just don’t like it when it’s dark and gloomy, maybe it brings out the animal in them that they never want to admit is there. Whatever the case, as Jorge made his way to the apartment duplex, he had to make note that there did seem to be a rise in these calls whenever there was rain or some kind of stormy weather on the horizon. It may have been little more than paranoia, but at the moment it was a sound assessment.

Jorge Cervantes immediately saw the hustle and bustle of the crime scene technicians that they bagged, photographed and claimed evidence. Normally the MRC was not called into homicide cases unless there was some type of possible mutant act or involvement. This was going to be one of those times.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his rain soaked trench coat, the man headed directly for the scene. A pair of officers attempted to stop him, to redirect him that he was walking through a crime scene. All it took was a flash of his badge to get apologies and free pass from them.

They must be new he thought to himself as he walked past them. The newbies always try to exert authority whenever they can. Not that he could blame them. In this line of work, you had to had authority, a sense of presence around you if you wanted survive. The public loves to sink their teeth in those who pretend they have power when in fact they have nothing…

…and speaking of which…

Jorge stepped into the apartment and immediately caught sight of Detective Drake speaking to one of the investigators. He stepped over to him silently, trying to not step on any of the crime scene evidence before the investigators had time to get to them.

“Drake,” he said in greeting as he surveyed the scene. Time to get on the job.

As Cervantes arrived, the forensic investigators turned. The redhead in the bunch gave a slight nod. Ashton turned, and did a similar gesture.

"Cervantes," Ashton said. He looked to the redhead. "Anya here was just giving me a rundown of the situation. Anya."

On cue, the redhead got right down to work. "At 7:53 PM tonight, the police were called. A short while before that, his neighbor, Candice Kane, discovered a body. That of our victim, Roberto Marten. She discovered him in his doorway, on the way to her home." She didn't flinch at any of the details. She repeated them coolly, briskly, with all the professionalism in the world.

Candice Kane. Ashton thought. Candy. It wasn't a sweet thing she'd found.

"It appears as if the killer knocked on the door to get Marten's attention. Then, he attacked. Investigators confirmed identity by the wallet on his person. It was not a robbery. Judging from the state of the victim, it appears..."

Ashton cut in. "As if the murderer was hungry."

Anya said through tight lips. "Quite."

Jorge had entered into a mess, it seems. He greeted the investigated with a nod and turned his attention to listen closely. He did not get much information from dispatch but he knew the second he arrived outside that this was going to bad…he just had no idea how bad.

In silence he listened to everything that had happened: neighbor found the body, she called the police, the strange situation then forced the police to call in the MRC. Of course they would get this strangeness. And it was a hell of a lot more stranger than Jorge would have liked to have walked into. Judging by the look on Anya’s face as she moved on in her dialogue, the situation have her the heebie jeebies as well…

>> "It appears as if the killer knocked on the door to get Marten's attention. Then, he attacked. Investigators confirmed identity by the wallet on his person. It was not a robbery. Judging from the state of the victim, it appears..."

>> "As if the murderer was hungry."[/color]

>> "Quite."

Now that was completely disgusting but what else was Jorge to expect. The body…well…it looked like it had been dragged through hell with the teeth of an imp. Blood was still fresh on the scene, but other than that there was really nothing else that looked completely out of place. With no idea of forced entry, what, the man just let Hannibal Lector walk inside? Was the perp someone the man trusted? Did he just look normal? Was a it was cannibalistic girl scout? None of the options put happy thoughts in his head. Either way, he was going to be locking his door tonight.

Jorge sighed as he looked over the scene.

“Did anyone in the building see anybody strange around the building today?” he asked.

Anya sighed, smoothing back her hair as she looked away. "Nobody was around at the time to see anything. Ms. Kane was out when the crime took place. Seems most of the block was, too."

"Forensics will have to find us more to go on." Ashton commented. "As it looks now, we don't have many leads. Did the guy know his killer or didn't he? If he didn't, why did he let the guy in? We need to know more about this guy, and his relationship to the victim." Ashton concluded.

He hated cases like this. If there was no real evidence, trails got cold. And in situations like this, it made it so they'd have to wait for the killer to kill again.

>> "Forensics will have to find us more to go on…As it looks now, we don't have many leads. Did the guy know his killer or didn't he? If he didn't, why did he let the guy in? We need to know more about this guy, and his relationship to the victim."

Jorge said nothing in response. Instead he merely stood there as he surveyed the rest of the scene. None of it made much sense, nor was there much evidence they could go on. At least for now. He hated to simply walk out of this one with no lead to follow, but unfortunately they were going to have to. Forensics take time, energy, and results were rarely ever immediate. As a matter of fact, as the detective stood there, he was more than certain that those who were running the scene were irritated that were cops trampling over everything.

“Well,” Jorge finally responded as he tilted his head to the side and cracked his sore neck, “We best let forensics do their jobs and we can do ours.”

Pretty much meaning they should leave the apartment for now. There was no sense in disrupting the crime scene unit any further. There would be witnesses to question. Hopefully, though, the CSU will be able to get back to them sooner rather than later.

He sighed as he looked over the scene again.

Judging by the looks of things, they had a real psycho on their hands. The sooner they could get something to lead them to him, the better.

>>“We best let forensics do their jobs and we can do ours.”

Ashton nodded. It looked that way.

The night drew on and forensics worked. The medical examiner took the body. Police searched for witnesses. For the most part, they came up empty. Ashton's worst fears were confirmed. They had saliva from the wound. They had DNA evidence. They had a basic idea of what had happened and an autopsy confirming what definitely did, but... this guy hadn't been sloppy. Maybe it wasn't his first time. Maybe he'd done this a while without getting caught. Nothing for his DNA or fingerprints was on record. There was nothing to tie anyone to the crime. And there were no leads.

They would have to wait.

So, they did.

***

September 14, 2011.
2:45PM

It was a sunny september, 78°F. The forecast called for thunderstorms later that night. He knew. He was planning.

People filed out of a building. The sign on the building said 'support group'. Alcoholics Anonymous.

Drinking would be the death of them. It was a good thing they were trying to kick the habit.

Oh? What was that? One of the women leaving the building was sipping some liquid from a flask. He saw her glance around, as if embarrassed, then stuff the flask away into her black purse.

Well, that was just great.

***

September 14, 2011.
5PM

"She was found dead at the scene, clutching a flask. AA button on her breast. Eaten. Terrible."

This fit that bastard's MO. "He got sloppy this time, Cervantes. Someone got a description. Archer's interviewing them now."

The body had already been taken by the medical examiner for autopsy. Forensics was still working on-scene. This time, Ashton and Cervantes had given them a bigger breadth.

Onlookers stood just beyond the crime scene tape in the street outside the red brick apartment building. It was eerily quiet, save for police chatter. They were all scared.

”A…pink…elephant.” Officer Archer repeated as the pen she was holding dangled from her fingers and she looked at the witness with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes! It was pink! And…and….it had this sharp teeth like an alligator!” It came out in a rush, and the words were slightly slurred. The witness was sloshed, and of course Ashton had sent her to do the interview. Yes the information was important…in fact it was really important. This was the first time they’d had an eye-witness to corroborate anything that was happening with these murders. People were getting eaten, and nobody had seen a thing…until now.

”You’re SURE that’s what you saw? It wasn’t just someone heavy…maybe wearing a pink shirt? Maybe their teeth just looked sharp.” the redhead said, trying to keep her patience.

“Look…I know what I saw, and I’ve seen it before. It was a Pink. Elephant.” The drunk screwed up his face in thought for a moment, then the lightbulb turned on, “Like in Dumbo! When he drinks the booze! There’s bubbles, and all those pink elephants! And the creepy song! You know...the elephants on parade?" There were giggles then, drunken ones. Wow.

”Dumbo. Right.” Quin said, shaking her head and making notes in her steno as thunder rumbled in the distance. This was going to be a long night.

"Oh." The drunk said, once she'd gotten her giggles under control. "It was wearing a parka too."

Forensics had not found anything. They figured that maybe the case was going to be dead and buried. Better this happened to only one person than to many more. But unfortunately that was not going to be this killer’s M.O.

He had resurfaced.

Someone else was dead.

All-in-all…it was going to be a bad day…

>> "She was found dead at the scene, clutching a flask. AA button on her breast. Eaten. Terrible."

Jorge Cervantes, frowned as he stood near the crime scene and simply looked at the crime scene unit members as they worked. The body was gone. He was glad. He didn’t not want to have to see something like that again.

But just thinking about it ran his blood cold. Who was this psycho? Why was this mad person actually “eating” people? Was he a mutant and consuming flesh had something to do with it? Or was he really just off his rocker? There was too little evidence to decide. Quite frankly he wanted this monster caught and now…

>> “He got sloppy this time, Cervantes. Someone got a description. Archer's interviewing them now."

“Why?” Jorge asked himself. “Why get sloppy now? Did he get set off or was he compelled to forget the risk?” he sighed as he turned away and glanced to Drake and then to the people who were surrounding their perimeter. He shook his head. “People are getting scared, Drake. We don’t catch this guy, and soon, they’re going to start panicking and see him on every street corner. And that means every lonely recluse will be suspected…”

Mayhem. Plain and simple.

>>“Why get sloppy now? Did he get set off or was he compelled to forget the risk?”

"No idea," Ashton replied seriously. "But we'll find out."

He knew people were frightened. It was scary stuff. They had to catch him, Cervantes said. Ashton silently agreed.

He pulled out his phone and dialed, turning away. "We'll see what Archer has to say." He noted. On the pick-up, he said: "Archer." Pause. "Find anything?"

Her phone rang, and Quin ground her teeth a bit at the ring tone. It was Ashton. Again. How many times was he going to call her today and ruin things? Okay, so maybe he wasn’t ruining anything right now because all Quin was doing was talking to a drunk about pink elephants in parkas, but there were so many other things she could have been doing.

On the third ring she answered the phone. He wanted to know if she’d found anything.

”Hold on.” she said, dropping the phone to her side and addressing the drunk again.

”Stay close to town in case we need to talk to you again.” the redhead said as she fished around in her pocket for a card to hand the woman.

”If you remember anything else…” the word useful hung silently in the air as she held the little rectangle of paper out and the drunk took it. ”Call me.”

That taken care of, Quin turned to walk away, putting the phone back to her ear as she moved back towards her partner and Cervantes.

”If you call pink elephants and drunken giggles ‘something’ then yeah…I found a whole lot of something. Otherwise, nothing. Just like the lead earlier. “ Was her voice a little clipped? A little annoyed, maybe? Thunder rumbled in the distance and Quin scowled. Was it going to rain too?

>> "We'll see what Archer has to say."

Jorge nodded as he let Ashton make the call. Slipping away, Jorge stood back to further survey the scene. The body was already taken away and forensics was under pressure to comb every square inch of the scene. People were starting to get nervous and that definitely was not going to help.

Hands in his coat pockets, he did not bother Ashton while he made the call to Archer. He hoped the detective at least had a reliable witness. If there was something they were all in desperate need of right now, it was a break in this case.

But mutely, the detective began to run the scenario through his mid. The perp attack another person, but this one was not in their home and it did not seem to be as careful as the last. It was done in a hurry, out in the open, a high risk factor. Was the psycho just getting braver was there something else that complied him to attack another person so rashly? Jorge had no way of knowing. He could guess all he waited, but that was no guarantee that it would lead him to the truth.

He sighed as he glanced to Ashton, waiting for him to get off the phone. He hoped the other officer found something useful…

"..." Annoyed silence. The phone clipped shut. He'd hung up on her. Rude, yeah. Bad mood? Yes. "Witness was drunk and rambling about elephants... bah." This was stupid. "Sorry for calling you in on nothing, Cervantes. I'll let you know if we get anything else."

He felt like a jerk, now. Two bodies. Two people, dead, and they hadn't gotten any further now than from where they were on the first one. He needed a drink.

In the background, watching the people work the crime scene, stood a man in a dark parka. The hood was drawn up tight around his pink face, concealing most of it. What stood out stood out by a long margin. Two tusks, and one long menacing trunk. The trunk was slung over one shoulder.

Nobody noticed him as they worked. A guy as strange as him usually would have stood out. All he could do was sneer about that fact as the world passed him by.

(( OOC: Thread, end. ))