InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Iuguolo Monumentum ❯ Exordium ( Chapter 1 )

Iuguolo Monumentum

 

Disclaimer: I am saddened to say that I do not own any of Rumiko Takahashi's characters.

 

A/N: I'd like to start off by saying that all characters mentioned in this story will not be demon, they will have similar characteristics to Rumiko's story but will all be mortal (don't worry Inuyasha will still be gorgeous). Warning: This fic is meant for mature readers. There will be lemons, semi-lemons, gore, action,, strong language, and extreme physiological horror. As always, I will love to hear your thoughts and comments, just keep in appropriate please. I hope all of you stay with me because I promise you will not be disappointed.

 

Background Info: Every chapter I will be giving a little background info on what's going on in the chapter. I will usually be giving you this insight from the killer's mind: just to set the mood =]. I feel its important to give another warning that this will be an immensely disturbing story, with the romance and drama that we all love.  

 

Chapter One

 

(Prologue)

 

Exordium

 

God…it's fucking hot in here. You would think they might want to turn on the air conditioning or something; maybe put a couple fans on the wall. Geniuses…they are all geniuses. Now I am sweating! My cloths are going to smell and that hot secretary who took down my name will be repulsed. Shit that ass; that translucent skin, it's enough to make me masturbate right now. Calm yourself; you will get to have some when they let you go.

 

Chocolate eyes scanned the room, a bead of sweat gliding down a tanned neck before dripping onto the concrete floor.

 

They put me in a cage

 

The only sound heard was the chuckling from his own mouth, radiating off the dark gray walls and into his ears. It was definitely a step up from the white rooms they had him staying in for the last couple of days. This was darker, more serene. Almost like he was at his mothers again' actually, when he contemplated the subject, his room was dark gray.

 

Oh, the memories.

 

Dad watching television with the curtains drawn, an empty shot glass in one hand, and whisky bottles scattered around the floor. How many times he had tripped over them and bruised himself up, stepped on a piece of glass or was beaten over the head when he disobeyed; there were too many times to count. Mom would stay in the kitchen, smoking a joint as her sleeves tried to cover the deep slashes on her wrists and forearms. Such a shame she stabbed herself in the neck, she made the best chocolate shakes.

 

Looking around the room he nodded to himself, his fingers in tight fists in the handcuffs he wore behind his back. They were just as uncomfortable as the heat, if you can believe it.

 

There wasn't a table either, with a desk lamp or intimidating metal chair like you see in the movies and television shows. He sat on a folding chair, in the middle of a gray box, with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him during the half an hour they had him sit in here. They told him the police here desire to talk to him; he wondered why it was taking so long.

 

He had a lot to get back to. His house was probably a mess, his dogs hadn't been fed in days, and he didn't want to know how much mail was overflowing in his mailbox. The least they could do was give him a magazine to read, or maybe the Bible if they preferred. Instead he was stuck in the hot room, with chaffing handcuffs, in the constricting white cloths they made him wear.

 

What time is it? He wondered, shuffling his sneakered feet against the floor as he fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair. It was snowing the last time he looked out his window, maybe it still was. Oh the cold snow would be wonderful right now.

 

I bet it's raining now, the snow never last's too long in Tokyo.

 

The door opened suddenly, his head lifting so quickly that he almost got whiplash. Small lights stuck onto the four walls surrounding him, making it orally difficult for him see who was walking in. He could make out three men: one with a shiny police badge, another with a clipboard who walked to the corner of the room, and the last man to walk in held two guns hanging from his shoulder holster.

 

He tried not to laugh; the guy was obviously trying to intimidate him. Guns weren't scary at all when you thought about it. Who could really intimidate anyone with a gun? When shot, you met your end quickly, a little blood spilt and the shock of it usually made you black out. Show him a cleaver or 15 inch Bowie and then you'll see him shake. From the corner of his eye, he could see the man in the corner scribbling profusely.

 

His green handled Bowie, sitting in his side dresser drawer. It's sharp edge cutting perfectly, each gash a fixture of color and sounds. The ripping of flesh as it dug deeper into the veins. The colors of red, darker as he cut deeper, smearing onto its gleaming frame and smudging up the pinkish skin it penetrated. The screams like a soft dull as he watched it create masterpieces of torn flesh that ran all the way up arms or stomachs. To hold it once more in his hand would be the greatest achievement of his life.   

 

As the detective stepped into the light, his amber eyes shot daggers into his chocolate ones. Now, he could see why this man was held in such high esteem. 6 ft 3, maybe 4, well built, and the palest skin he had ever seen; definitely enough to make most cower. Long silver hair falling well past his shoulders and a long scar situated from his forehead to the middle of his cheek. The man writing on his clipboard studied him closely, noticing the prisoner still hadn't changed expression at all; in fact, he looked very relaxed.

 

“Good afternoon detective!”

 

His silver hair swished slightly, crossing his arms before answering. “What a good morning in deed” his deep voice called back to him.

 

The police officer snorted but the detainee couldn't look away from the detective's golden eyes. They were soft, like a woman's yet tough and captive by secrets. He examined the detective: his button down shirt with a thin black tie, Kaki pants that hung down low upon his sculpted waist, and sleeves rolled up his arms so a purple half moon tattoo was clearly seen upon his forearm. He almost jumped out of his seat; he had most definitely seen that tattoo before.  

 

Grabbing a folding chair lying against the wall, the detective seated himself in front of the imprisoned man; watching the way the his legs were calmly weaved together, how his foot would occasionally tap against the floor, and how his shoulders slumped forward in relaxation. Didn't this man know what he was in for?

 

“What is your name detective?”

 

He smiled, “Sesshomaru Takahashi.”

 

“Yes” the man, stated, “I know your father very well.”

 

Sesshomaru couldn't help but be impressed, he actually remembered. Reading his case file, Sesshomaru knew all about his guy. What he did, when he did it, how they found enough evidence to appeal his case and put him in a mental facility rather then jail. This man floured Sesshomaru's father; sheer curiosity and confusion enough to occupy most of his career with studying and memorizing every movement he made. It wasn't until after the case was closed that he had to move on, there were too many people like him out there to just be focused on one.

 

“How is he? We used to have chats just like this all the time.”

 

Sesshomaru wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, “Working hard, like always.”

 

“I always told him he should take a vacation,” the guy chuckled, “I used to poke fun at him for spending so much time with me, always saying his wife must be insanely jealous. He was dedicated your father. I bet you're just like him…you look just like him.”

 

“Then you know all about me” Sesshomaru started, “Let's talk about you.”

 

“Oh Detective, I've been in captivity for a couple days now; there is nothing new I can tell you that your father doesn't already know.”

 

Sesshomaru looked up in confusion, turning towards the psychoanalyst who looked just as bewildered as him. The police officer just laughed, thinking how pathetic it was; how entirely shocked they both were. Think of how many women this guy had his way with? How he did it without the hint of guilt or remorse. Of course he was fucking nuts.

 

His father had never described this is in his case file; it wasn't brought up in trial either. Hadn't the killer realized that how much older he looked? Seen the age spots appearing on his skin? It was almost ten years to the day when he was put behind bars and arrested by his father. Sesshomaru ran a pale hand threw his thick hair, each tendril falling to his face like a shower of snow.

 

“Mr. Jun…”

 

He smiled, his dark eyes hitting the floor for a moment before staring up into Sesshomaru's much lighter ones. “I haven't been called by my last name in years.”

 

He was getting annoyed now, “Mr. Jun, by now I am sure your wondering why we've brought you back in here. We're hoping to ask you some rather important questions.”

 

Grabbing the folder from the policeman's arms, Sesshomaru opened its paper-thin cover. There was only one artifact found inside, the metallic shininess of the cover glinted in the light and created small shadows on the walls next to them. Mr. Jun almost jumped again, there was a case they were working on and obviously they didn't have much evidence because of the only item inside. Maybe it was his repeal!

 

When the detective placed the item onto his knees he almost jumped back in excitement; the most beautiful creature lay before him. The picture not doing enough justice to what he was sure the real goddess looked like.

 

Wind shaken hair fell right to the girls' petite shoulders. A narrow face could not hinder the radiance of her large hazel eyes. She was so pale that the light from the camera couldn't even lighten the color of her skin if it tried. He noticed the tightness of her shirt and mini skirt; she looked to be in her early twenties.

 

Immediately Sesshomaru noticed the hunger in his eyes, the carnal lust that was so clearly painted before him that the killer's fingers inched their way as close to the young girl's face as humanly possible without breaking his wrists from behind him. Sesshomaru had to fight back his urge to take the picture and throw the man back in his white walled room. No, he needed answers.  

 

“Do you recognize her?” Sesshomaru asked.

 

“Unfortunately no” he said calmly, his finger tracing the outline of her face, “She's quite exquisite.”

 

He frowned, “She doesn't remind you of anyone?”

 

The man laughed, “Well of course she reminds me of those girls that I know you are talking about but unfortunately for you, I have never met her in my life.”

 

“You mean the fifty plus girls you murdered?” The policeman sneered from behind them,

 

“The very ones” he smiled back.

 

Sesshomaru ignored this, “Mr. Jun, this girl was found dismembered on the side of the highway last night.”

 

The picture fell between his legs, “What do you mean?”

 

“Her head was found two miles away from the rest of her remains, one leg and arm floating down the river next to the highway, and her body gutted from the neck down to her uterus.”

 

“What an offal waste” he responded, his voice a deep whine, “Was she a girlfriend of yours?”

 

Sesshomaru stood up; the speed so fast that the metal chair that he sat upon was rocketed back against the gray walls behind him. His eyes narrowed and fists clenched as he grabbed the back of Mr. Jun's chair, his face so close that his breath made small red marks upon the detainee's face that he wouldn't have seen without the Takahashi curse.

 

“A twenty-one year old girl is dead; I hope to fucking God you don't find this funny.”

 

“Come now Detective, you honestly don't think that I had anything to do with this? I've been under close watch for hours now.”

 

Sesshomaru stepped back, “She fits the profile of every victim of yours Mr. Jun, that seems like quite the coincidence.”

 

“And I just magically escaped from imprisonment to find myself another blonde girl before getting away quick enough to get back into my room under lock and key? I am more of genius then I thought.”

 

Sesshomaru grabbed the picture, shoving it back into his face, “This girls name is Rioko Shou, she is the twin sister of Yuu Shou: your very first victim.”

 

All light from his face fell; all humor and good spirit seemed to vanish in one quick flicker. Like the muffling of a flame, all relaxation was coated and instead an anger that Sesshomaru hadn't seen yet emerged with a force so strong it made him stagger for a moment. He hadn't yelled or tried to grab at him, no, all his anger shot straight from his eyes and into Sesshomaru's face, something he had never experienced before.

 

“What are you insinuating detective?” His voice covered in malice.

 

“Don't you worry Mr. Jun” Sesshomaru smirked, “the corpse is fresh so there is no plausible way that you could have killed her being detained and kept under close watch.”

 

Almost as quick as his anger came, it was gone again. His eyes twinkling and light a moment ago lost had shown again with brutal insinuation.

 

“Then let's not fight detective, you do remind me so much of your father.”

 

Sesshomaru's fist clenched, “Don't think for a moment, Mr. Jun that I have taken your name out of consideration. Just because you are locked up, doesn't mean you had nothing to do with this.”

 

“Interesting…”

 

Sesshomaru could have punched him, his condescension thickly coating the air around them. He was laughing at him, his light attitude and happy smile a mirror to the insides of his mind when around Sesshomaru. He wasn't taking him seriously at all; he found this all-just entertainment for the day.

 

“You don't find it strange that the girl murdered is the biological twin to your first victim?!”

 

Mr. Jun shrugged his shoulders, “A coincidence?”

 

“A coincidence my ass.”   

 

“Ah!” he said sitting back, bouncing his handcuffs up and down against the chair, “The million dollar question is `How are you going to prove this?'

 

Sesshomaru grabbed the folder from the floor he had thrown it upon, motioning to the policeman to open the gated door before turning back towards the deranged man behind him.

 

“Mr. Jun, I have no idea how you did this, but I promise you…”

 

He threw open the door with one easy twist of his arm, smashing it against the serene colored walls.

 

“I will prove you guilty.” 

*~*

To answer some questions you may have, this is just the prologue. It gives a little information on what is one of the main points to the fic. For all you romance fiends, this is an Inu/Kag based story with some other pairs that I want to surprise you with!

 

Your reviews are much appreciated!

Until next time…

ADemonsLove