Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Chosen One ❯ Chapter 4: My picture-collage ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: AH! GOMENESAI, MINNA-SAMA! I am so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! *wrings hands guiltily* At first, I wanted to put it off till I structured out the whole story but I realized if I did that, then I'll NEVER get anything out! So I told myself, Kits, just type the damn thing out and we'll see where you go with it, okay? Hey, at least the long wait has at last made me realize who's the villain and what the hell was he actually planning to do. . . .(Ah, Kits, you just confessed to everyone that you had no idea where the story was going to in the first place. . .) *sweatdrop*

Warnings: Gruesome details and a nice Dee. Oh my.

Disclaimer: If I actually owned FAKE, believe me when I say that Dee would not have THAT much trouble in getting Ryo in to bed. . . .but I do own my OC. Not that I like him THAT much. . .anyone want him? Ah, if only my villain can be a certain albino Japanese doctor who's a sadistic bastard and a psycho killer to boot with fashionable dress sense. . .*Kits slaps her cheeks as shoujo-like effects of stars and flowers burst around her face* Muraki-sama! Ah, aishiteru! *drools*

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CHAPTER 4: My picture-collage

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"Okay everyone," Rose knocked his knuckles on the scarred table impatiently, trying to get his detectives' attention. The meeting room was a cramped, gloomy affair on usual days but with the entire detective force crowding in today, it was getting practically claustrophobic. Despite autumn having its hold on the city, the air inside was stale and redolent with cigarette smoke and it was getting near stifling in here. Rose waved a hand at JJ and the young man quickly jumped up to open a window. The opening was barely several inches, the latches painted shut but the breeze that swirled in caused an audible sigh to go around the room.

The buzz slowly died down as everyone took available seats. Rose took the seat at the head of the rectangular table, Ryo on his right with Dee beside him and the chief on his left. The rest of his detectives filled up the remaining space, falling silent as he flipped open the case file.

"As you all know, starting from today, everyone is pulled off other cases. Orders from above say we're to concentrate solely on this case till it's solved. MacLean and Laytner will head the team, and they are to report directly to me." He gave a sideways glance at the Japanese-American and smiled slightly. The brown-haired man shifted uneasily under his gaze.

"So," he announced. "What do we have?"

"Sir," Ryo cleared his throat and opened his own file. "The first murders consisted of 13 victims, all orphans newly registered with their respective orphanages. Birth parents were unknown and none had been put up for adoption. Due to delays from the coroner's office, we've only just gotten the results of the autopsies."

Rose steepled his fingers, and said, "And?"

Dee spoke up next, having held on to the coroner's report since Drake handed it over. "Autopsies confirmed that all 13 boys were raped," he said, his voice hammered flat.

Everyone drew in their breath sharply in surprise, including Rose. Not a few were pale with shock and disgust. Dee went on, not even needing to refer to the papers. Every little detail had been burned to his memory.

"DNA tests show that there were at least 4 different rapists, but the DNAs are currently unidentifiable. We're running the results in the FBI database for matches. All 13 bodies also showed evidence of massive trauma, mainly due to repeated beatings with long, heavy objects, probably a baseball bat. But while all of them suffered heavy, internal damage, the cause of death for 9 of them was massive blood loss from the incisions on their wrists. 4 of them succumbed to their injuries.

Time of death differs for all of them but they were spaced relatively close to each other. The conclusion is that they were probably killed one by one. That's basically it." Dee leaned back in his chair and stared ahead unseeingly through the grimed windows. Silence hung thick and heavy in the air.

By his side, Ryo had turned deathly pale and his hands trembled slightly as he jotted down notes. There was fear in him. What if it had been Bikky? All this was lost on Dee though, who barely noticed his partner's agitation. His mind was a swirl of colors and images as the murder scene played itself over and over again.

Rose was the first to break the tension. "Any ideas people?"

"It's pretty obvious from the crime scene that it's a religious killing," Ted offered. "The inverted cross is usually a symbol of dark cults, most probably an Anti-Christ thing. Then there's also the symbolic reference to 13 victims. Christ had his 12 apostles, Judas his 13th. So we're probably looking at a satanic cult. How the 13 victims fit in and the meaning behind the phrase 'chosen one' is still unclear though."

"We'll start from there then," Rose nodded in approval. "I want every known and unknown cult in New York investigated. Mark those with criminal records, no matter how petty. I want a detailed report on my desk by Monday morning. And MacLean?"

"Yes sir?"

"Contact all of our informants. Make them talk. Up the reward if you have to but I want information, no matter how you get it."

"Yes sir."

Taking the cue, everyone got up, moving slowly towards the door. Most of them were already busy comparing possible sources for the cult research. If there was anything that they hated more as cops, other than having one of their own hurt, were having kids involved. There was, after all, a line to be drawn.

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"What are you doing Bikky?"

Sun-gold hair flipped back in a sharp gesture, the young boy fixed an irritated gaze upon the dark-haired man who was an annoying, permanent fixture in Ry-their place these past 2 years. On the table before him, multi-colored papers formed a riotous blizzard, along with the necessary tools; a pair of scissors, an X-acto knife and a pot of glue.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you idiot?" he snapped. "I'm doing my homework or have you gone blind?"

Dee didn't rise up to the bait, as much as Bikky had wanted him to. The past week had been relatively dull, he had to admit. Dee being sick as a dog had deprived him of a sounding board for his ever growing collection of finely thought out insults and he had chafed at the relative peacefulness that had invaded the 2-bedroom apartment. He had taken his turn in looking after Dee, relieving Ryo who was apt to stay up all night if he didn't force him to get some rest. Now that Dee was back on his feet, he had looked forward to trading half-meant abuse but ever since they came back from the big precinct meeting on the whole Anti-Christ killing (geez, can't the media come up with a catchier name?), Dee and Ryo both had been pretty quiet with Ryo constantly reminding him to take care of himself, that he should never accept ride from strangers, don't stop in dark alleyways and-

Bikky shook his head in remembrance. Ryo could be the ultimate mother hen at times but truth to tell, he liked it. So someone cared for him after all.

Dee pulled out a chair and sank into it. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the dark tresses while the thick ash-gray sweater he wore emphasized his gray eyes and the circles beneath that rest was still unable to banish. "Homework for what?" he asked instead.

Bikky rolled his eyes at the most mundane response Dee gave but answered him anyway. Besides, he really shouldn't try baiting the man too much now anyway. Ryo had declared firmly that even though Dee could get out of bed now, he was not, I repeat, not to exert himself. That meant taking things slow. That meant that Bikky had to swallow his insults for some time, if the glint in Ryo's eyes meant anything.

"My English teacher got it into her head that it'd be really 'creative' and 'mind-expanding' if we tried to do our essays in picture-form," he said with the barest hint of sarcasm coloring his tone. Personally, Mrs. Gibbons could take her picture essay and stuff it up her-

"Do you want some help?" Dee asked.

Huh? He blinked in surprise. "You want to help?"

Broad shoulders were lifted in the barest of shrugs. "Ryo's making dinner, I have nothing to do and I still can't smoke. So I either help you or take a nap. And believe me when I say I'm sick and tired of that bed. I need to see something else besides white cotton sheets."

He glared suspiciously at the patiently waiting man. Finally after an age of silent contemplation, he nodded his head once.

"Fine. But if you screw up, it's on your head," he warned.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Ryo could still hear what was going on beyond the kitchen despite the headphones he perpetually wore when cooking. While today's choice of accompanying music was Giuseppe Tartini's 'Devil's Trill' (a favourite classical piece) playing in his ears, he strained to make out any form of activity in the living room. Bikky had assured him earlier that he was starting on his homework while Dee had been relaxing on the couch. His lover had offered to help with dinner but he had been firmly turned down. Despite the flash of irritation in Dee's eyes at his refusal, he did not need to say anything when a moment later, Dee passed a hand before his eyes, a brief headache plaguing him from what he could tell. His silence was enough of a reprimand and Dee had grudgingly retreated to the couch.

Today's meeting had taken their toll on the both of them. While he was flattered that Rose had thought he and Dee should head the investigation team, he was, nonetheless, upset about the whole case. Him and Dee both. For him, it had been the fact that it was kids who're suffering in the hands of sick psychos and it scared him that one day, it might be gold-streaked hair found lying in a pool of blood while blue eyes stared at him blankly. For Dee, it was enough that the fact it had been orphans. He knew that Dee feared to see one of Penguin's kids lying there too. Dee had also taken to looking worried when Bikky was out. He had spent countless times before the windows of the apartment, keeping an eye out for Bikky and when the boy finally came in to view, an almost imperceptible sigh would escape him. Despite his slight amusement at the affection Dee tried not to show for Bikky, he knew that Dee loved the boy like his own, just as Bikky loved him too. He just had to face the facts that the two of them showed their love for each other through insults and endless sparring.

Which is decidedly missing today, he thought to himself. While he had warned Bikky and Dee both to take it easy with the verbal abuse while Dee recuperated, he really didn't trust them to remember their promise. But then, the silence should be good right? Ah, when it comes to those two, silence, as well as noisy bickering, was just as apprehensive.

Hands still wet from the salad he was making, he dried his hands with a clean dishtowel and took off his headphones. He peered worriedly around the doorway, eyes searching. He found them both on the dining table and was surprised, and quite gratified, that Bikky was doing his homework and that Dee was actually helping him. A smile curved his lips at the sight. Dee was helping Bikky to cut out some pictures while the boy rapped instructions at him like a little general. Dee was holding up well with the slightly bossy tone Bikky was using and he could have sworn that a small smile was playing on Dee's face too.

Still smiling himself, he tugged his headphones back on and hummed under his breath. Dinner would be ready in just be a few minutes longer.

* * *

There was something strangely hypnotic in doing a mindless task like cutting paper, Dee mused. His long fingers wrapped around the bright green plastic handle of the scissors, he dutifully followed Bikky's harping instructions to "Cut out that stupid face!", "What the hell is that broad doing in there?!!" and his "Fine, fine, we'll put your picture in as well." He knew as well as Bikky that his insults were half-meant to bait him and he quite enjoyed not taking it. He knew that Bikky meant well and he appreciated it. He felt a brief pang at not being up to return the compliments but he reasoned that a couple weeks of rest would see him in fine form. Returning his attention back to the work spread out, he thought that Mrs. Gibson had given Bikky quite an interesting essay to work on. He was to do a picture collage telling about his family. As such, pictures were scattered all over the table with various bits cut out. He was amused, and privately flattered that most of the pictures were from around their 2 years or more together. There was that picture of him, Ryo and Bikky picnicking in the park one fine Sunday afternoon. It was one of the few moments when he and Bikky had enjoyed the day too much to spar.

The picture he was holding was of Bikky and him together. A little bit of the picture was unwanted and since it was too small for the scissors to be of use, he discarded it for the X-acto knife. Before he cut though, he placed a thick mat underneath. Ryo would kill him if he scarred the table. Black bangs fell forward to curtain his eyes as he bent closer, trying to get the angle right. The knife slid easily across the glossy paper, cutting deep into it with a slight snicking sound. His gaze strayed to the image of Bikky. His eyes were bright, full of laughter and mischievous prank. He smiled, recalling the ducks they had abused in the park that day. Ryo had tried to get them to stop but they had their own comeuppance when a particularly enraged duck took offense and chased them around the whole pond.

"Hey Dee!"

He looked up quickly, startled out of his reverie. "What?"

There was an incredulous look on the boy's face as he pointed at him. "Your finger you idiot!"

He looked down at the aforementioned digit and was surprised to see a thick line of scarlet wending its way down to his palm. He hadn't even realized he cut himself. The blood trickled down to fall on to the table in slow drops. He watched it in fascination before pulling himself out of his trance and smiled at Bikky.

"Sorry kid. I'll go get a band-aid first."

* * *

To his annoyance, he was enjoying Dee's help and presence. It goes against his credo really, to like being with the man. But then, he sighed silently, hang out too long together and you tend to tolerate anything. Still. . .

He fervently prayed that it would not mean he'd end up being gay when he's older.

He sifted through his collection of pictures absent-mindedly. There was one of him and Ryo at an amusement park, him with a ferocious mock scowl on his face to assure the viewer that no, he was too much a grown up to enjoy kiddy rides. Another one showed the three of them together at that park. That day was fun. Especially the time with him, Dee and the duck. Ryo couldn't stop laughing, he recalled. He looked over at Dee, who was diligently cutting a picture of the two of them together with a knife, his brows furrowed with concentration. He watched in idle fascination, the knife gliding smoothly, so smoothly that it cut a straight line neatly across Dee's finger.

Who went on cutting, oblivious to the fact that blood was flowing.

"Hey Dee!" he yelped in surprise.

"What?"

"Your finger you idiot!"

Dee looked at his finger with the blood still flowing as though he never saw such a thing before. He looked totally fascinated and Bikky saw him pull himself out of it with a jerk, grey eyes wide and a bit startled.

"Sorry kid. I'll go get a band-aid first."

He watched Dee go to the bathroom with no small amount of worry. It was unlike Dee to be so spaced out like that, sick or not. Fingers trembling slightly, he picked up the picture Dee had been cutting and stared at it.

The picture showed him and Dee with their faces pressed close to the camera, faces pulled in comic grimaces. Blood was smeared all over Dee's face, making it look as though he was peering through a curtain of red haze.

Despite himself, he shivered.

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"Master, please," his disciple groveled at his feet, body trembling and weak hands clutching the hem of his robes in earnest supplication. Lank, greasy hair fell to obscure the man's shrunken face, a result of endless weeks of devotional rites that he himself had led. The whole chamber reeked of the last rites recently held and he inhaled the sweet-sharp smell of old blood, sweat and urine as though it was the fragrance of roses. Long lines of wispy smoke trailed upwards in the still air from tallow candles burning on shelves and available stands. The holy altar itself was dripping with a new coat of blood from their latest sacrifice and he could feel the blessing silently given by The One.

"Master," the man whimpered again. Brought back to the practicalities of the moment, he shook himself out of his reverie and said gently,

"My faithful disciple. What do you need?"

His disciple groveled till he was practically kissing his stained hems and he felt a surge of joy at the absolute devotion of his disciple, one of a select few. The One would be pleased.

"Please do not toy with me, Master," he gasped out. "You know what I need. I beg you! Please!"

Smiling, he bent down to stroke his hair in paternal affection. "Yes, I know. Your need is desperate, yes? And you have been a faithful follower. Most faithful. The One was most pleased with your last devotions."

The man groaned in religious thrall and threw himself down, abasing himself full-length on the stone floor. "I live only for you and Him!"

"Good," he smiled rapaciously. "Remember that and you'll never be for want. Receive His blessings," finally, he granted the wretch what he had been begging for. A small pill fell from his hand on to the floor. A skeletal hand snatched out in snake-like quickness to grab the pill and it was just as quickly swallowed.

"Thank you Master, thank you." Again his robe hems were kissed, this time in fervent gratitude and he allowed it to go on a few moments longer before he twitched his robes out of the way.

"Enough," he said, impatient now. "Though He was pleased with our offerings, He demands to know when the final one will be found. We have no time to lose. Gather everyone. It is time to begin our search again."

"As you command Master."

He spun around and his rapid passage stirred the golden flames of the candles, throwing dancing shadows on the walls that were grimed with age and slime. So many things to do, so little time.

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~to be continued~

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A/N: Nyahahahaha! Who IS that mysterious cult leader? Was the blood-stained picture a premonition? Will Bikky be the next victim? Will Dee and Ryo get in each other's pants again before the end of this story? Find out soon! ^^

P.S: To any Yami no Matsuei fans, yes, that was a deliberate plugging of Matsushita's manga. What am I talking about? Devil's Trill naturally. ^^