Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ In Beauty ❯ 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Randoman 
Things are not always as they seem.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Post-apocalyptic | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 02.22.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 248 | Status: Completed
Things are not always as they seem.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Post-apocalyptic | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 02.22.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 248 | Status: Completed
The yellow tape had done a good job of keeping people out, but he stepped over it easily, and moved into the room.
Even as he did, he was steeling himself for this. He'd heard that it was bad.
He closed the door behind himself, quietly and tightly, turning the knob and releasing it as if it would somehow keep the sanctity of what the room held. He wasn't superstitious, but in general, he liked to be considerate, especially when the situation was as bad as he'd heard. Respect, focus and his own good sense had got him this far, and this case would be just like the others, he swore to himself. That's why they called him, he always got results. He turned now.
The first thing that caught his attention, the only thing of any importance in the room, was the girl.
She was pretty, beautiful even, just as he'd expected she would be. She lay on an artful divan in the midst of a photographer's backdrop. All white, clean and perfect. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the room, a dark and dirty heap. The backdrop was still well lit, and the girl remained still in the lights, posed as she had been before they left.
Before he had even finished making these observations, he'd known she was dead. He'd assumed it as soon as they'd called him in. No one had told him, but he knew; they were always dead in these situations.
He grimaced and felt rage boil in his veins as he moved closer, observing the girl's unnatural pose. How could they do this to this poor girl?
he didn't know the girl, but that did little to calm his anger, he'd seen this before, and each time it filled him with the same mixture of repulsion and fury. He closed his eyes for a moment, and attempted to bring himself back to his focus. It was better for the job.
With a deep breath, he turned to observe her: she was nude, and her beauty was even more obvious because of it.
She was fit, but not muscled, a lean build, blond hair, glowing in the photographer's lights. Her eyes sparkled brightly in their empty gaze. She was, as he expected, unmarred by surgical scars, all this beauty naturally obtained. It was consistant with higher-quality jobs. Sometimes, the two-bit scum that tried to move up would hire -or create- some designed models; girls given surgery until they glowed like man-made angels, but it was the naturals that were the most sought after. He knew it was a high paying job now, a significant clue on how to proceed. He briefly wondered if he was getting paid nearly enough to clean up these messes.
As his mind worked through the scene, there was a brief thought as to what the girl had thought was going to happen when she'd arrived, but he let it go, it was distracting to the business at hand. It didn't matter. The girl was quite dead now, and all that mattered was how he could rectify the terrible wrong that had been done.
He studied the situation, the setup, the lights, the positioning, looking for what he knew had to be there.
He moved beyond the girl now, surmising the entire scene. He moved to the camera's position and looked towards it all, taking it in with new eyes. He scanned for relevant factors. The camera was large and expensive, a popular brand name emblazoned on the side. Why had it been left?
He moved on.
A background of all white was unusual, perhaps a change in the style of this sort of operation. A new fad, or a something that'd last, he would have to find out. White was new, and that was important. Perhaps this time they'd slipped up, provided him with something good to work with.
The furniture the girl was on was expensive, but unattractive, something made for people who had enough money to buy things with no concern for comfort. It contrasted with the background in a way appropriate for photos, but did little to speak for their taste.
That was all there was in the view of the camera, but none of this helped him very much. These were sparse conditions. If he was intended to fix this, then he'd need to look harder.
He blinked. The lighting was harsh, even glaring. He couldn't focus, couldn't work under these circumstances. Perhaps there was something to that. He turned off one of the lamps, and averted several of the others. Yes, that was much better.
He looked into the focus of the lights now, and it was much easier to see things, he knew he'd see it now.
The girl appeared to glow in the softer lighting, a soft and radiant angel. It was perhaps symbolic. That appealed to him somehow, he knew the monsters that had done this to her would never have appreciated that, but then, look at what they had done to her. He brought his mind back to task. This had helped, he had moved his way through everything in the room, and now he focused back on the girl. She must be the key here. The rest of the room had provided few clues, but with the lights dimmed, and the angel watching, he could feel the solution creeping ever closer.
He studied her now. Her figure, her eyes, her position. He begged it to speak to him.
A long moment passed, his eyes burning into her distant, empty gaze.
And then, almost suddenly, it all fell together.
Her position seemed almost natural, but it was clear that they'd posed her after her death, not waiting until the chemicals had relaxed her muscles again. Their impatience had surely cost them dearly, and it was clear in everything they'd done. Her expression was dull, disinterested. Though they'd prepared her basically, her lips and features plumped, coloured and posed to make her look aroused, but her expression did not reflect it.
The clues were all there for him. They wer not well versed in their craft, but being sponsored for some sort of high-paying exploit. The surroundings and equipment were expensive, but they hadn't understood that, which was why they'd abandoned them. The police had no idea that this clandestine photoshoot had even taken place. No one did.
They had been coached in the basics, but not enough to know how to make it all look perfect, look natural.
Still, her body was flawless, which meant that they'd been clever enough to get her here without it being suspicious.
They must be comfortable with women, no need for strike her, probably poisoned her quickly, so they didn't have to cover a mark from a needle. Still, not so comfortable that he hadn't been able to quickly find the ad they'd put out for a model. They needed her to come to them.
He smiled now, he knew exactly how they could have committed such a monstrosity.
They were amateurs, and their employers had tried to cut some costs by hiring them. It appears they'd be paying much more for it to be cleaned up.
He felt much better now, the mystery solved. Now that he knew what was wrong, he could really go to work.
It didn't take long to fix everything. He turned the couch slightly, moved her body into a more natural position, reclining slightly, her perfect body pointing towards the camera in a lascivious curve. She looked comfortable now, as if begging the watcher to come and sit with her, just to... chat a little while.
Her face no longer featured a dull, disinterested gaze, but instead, the barest curves of a smile, her eyebrows lifting with subtle innuendo, her cheeks blushing and her eyes asking a question.
He moved to the camera now. His camera, now. He'd take it as part of the payment for fixing their little mess. Not that he would take a cut to his pay. They'd paid for amateurs, and been displeased, so now they'd have to pay more for him to have even seen the atrocity the amateurs had made of this.
Once he'd set up, taking the pictures was a very brief affair, his model was so well-behaved, just as he'd expect of the little angel he'd made her, so in a very short time, he was certain he'd have the shot they'd want.
And with that, he was pleased. He looked around at the messy, dark room, and turned off the lights, extinguishing his angel, preparing to leave.
He wondered what to do about the girl. he couldn't simply leave her here to rot, or for the dogs to eat. Even though she was useless now, she'd served him well. She, at least, had been much more useful at the time than any of those vapid poppets that still breathed.
He knew immediately the best option. A cremation for his angel. No sense in leaving clues for the police, even if he'd cleaned up the atrocity the amateurs had made, there was always the chance that he could have slipped a little. He didn't like it, but it was possible.
He looked at the darkened angel, left in her final repose on the divan, and smiled. She could not have done better. He was still smiling when the first flames licked at her form and he turned back to the door.
Advertising had gotten so much easier lately, he thought.
Even as he did, he was steeling himself for this. He'd heard that it was bad.
He closed the door behind himself, quietly and tightly, turning the knob and releasing it as if it would somehow keep the sanctity of what the room held. He wasn't superstitious, but in general, he liked to be considerate, especially when the situation was as bad as he'd heard. Respect, focus and his own good sense had got him this far, and this case would be just like the others, he swore to himself. That's why they called him, he always got results. He turned now.
The first thing that caught his attention, the only thing of any importance in the room, was the girl.
She was pretty, beautiful even, just as he'd expected she would be. She lay on an artful divan in the midst of a photographer's backdrop. All white, clean and perfect. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the room, a dark and dirty heap. The backdrop was still well lit, and the girl remained still in the lights, posed as she had been before they left.
Before he had even finished making these observations, he'd known she was dead. He'd assumed it as soon as they'd called him in. No one had told him, but he knew; they were always dead in these situations.
He grimaced and felt rage boil in his veins as he moved closer, observing the girl's unnatural pose. How could they do this to this poor girl?
he didn't know the girl, but that did little to calm his anger, he'd seen this before, and each time it filled him with the same mixture of repulsion and fury. He closed his eyes for a moment, and attempted to bring himself back to his focus. It was better for the job.
With a deep breath, he turned to observe her: she was nude, and her beauty was even more obvious because of it.
She was fit, but not muscled, a lean build, blond hair, glowing in the photographer's lights. Her eyes sparkled brightly in their empty gaze. She was, as he expected, unmarred by surgical scars, all this beauty naturally obtained. It was consistant with higher-quality jobs. Sometimes, the two-bit scum that tried to move up would hire -or create- some designed models; girls given surgery until they glowed like man-made angels, but it was the naturals that were the most sought after. He knew it was a high paying job now, a significant clue on how to proceed. He briefly wondered if he was getting paid nearly enough to clean up these messes.
As his mind worked through the scene, there was a brief thought as to what the girl had thought was going to happen when she'd arrived, but he let it go, it was distracting to the business at hand. It didn't matter. The girl was quite dead now, and all that mattered was how he could rectify the terrible wrong that had been done.
He studied the situation, the setup, the lights, the positioning, looking for what he knew had to be there.
He moved beyond the girl now, surmising the entire scene. He moved to the camera's position and looked towards it all, taking it in with new eyes. He scanned for relevant factors. The camera was large and expensive, a popular brand name emblazoned on the side. Why had it been left?
He moved on.
A background of all white was unusual, perhaps a change in the style of this sort of operation. A new fad, or a something that'd last, he would have to find out. White was new, and that was important. Perhaps this time they'd slipped up, provided him with something good to work with.
The furniture the girl was on was expensive, but unattractive, something made for people who had enough money to buy things with no concern for comfort. It contrasted with the background in a way appropriate for photos, but did little to speak for their taste.
That was all there was in the view of the camera, but none of this helped him very much. These were sparse conditions. If he was intended to fix this, then he'd need to look harder.
He blinked. The lighting was harsh, even glaring. He couldn't focus, couldn't work under these circumstances. Perhaps there was something to that. He turned off one of the lamps, and averted several of the others. Yes, that was much better.
He looked into the focus of the lights now, and it was much easier to see things, he knew he'd see it now.
The girl appeared to glow in the softer lighting, a soft and radiant angel. It was perhaps symbolic. That appealed to him somehow, he knew the monsters that had done this to her would never have appreciated that, but then, look at what they had done to her. He brought his mind back to task. This had helped, he had moved his way through everything in the room, and now he focused back on the girl. She must be the key here. The rest of the room had provided few clues, but with the lights dimmed, and the angel watching, he could feel the solution creeping ever closer.
He studied her now. Her figure, her eyes, her position. He begged it to speak to him.
A long moment passed, his eyes burning into her distant, empty gaze.
And then, almost suddenly, it all fell together.
Her position seemed almost natural, but it was clear that they'd posed her after her death, not waiting until the chemicals had relaxed her muscles again. Their impatience had surely cost them dearly, and it was clear in everything they'd done. Her expression was dull, disinterested. Though they'd prepared her basically, her lips and features plumped, coloured and posed to make her look aroused, but her expression did not reflect it.
The clues were all there for him. They wer not well versed in their craft, but being sponsored for some sort of high-paying exploit. The surroundings and equipment were expensive, but they hadn't understood that, which was why they'd abandoned them. The police had no idea that this clandestine photoshoot had even taken place. No one did.
They had been coached in the basics, but not enough to know how to make it all look perfect, look natural.
Still, her body was flawless, which meant that they'd been clever enough to get her here without it being suspicious.
They must be comfortable with women, no need for strike her, probably poisoned her quickly, so they didn't have to cover a mark from a needle. Still, not so comfortable that he hadn't been able to quickly find the ad they'd put out for a model. They needed her to come to them.
He smiled now, he knew exactly how they could have committed such a monstrosity.
They were amateurs, and their employers had tried to cut some costs by hiring them. It appears they'd be paying much more for it to be cleaned up.
He felt much better now, the mystery solved. Now that he knew what was wrong, he could really go to work.
It didn't take long to fix everything. He turned the couch slightly, moved her body into a more natural position, reclining slightly, her perfect body pointing towards the camera in a lascivious curve. She looked comfortable now, as if begging the watcher to come and sit with her, just to... chat a little while.
Her face no longer featured a dull, disinterested gaze, but instead, the barest curves of a smile, her eyebrows lifting with subtle innuendo, her cheeks blushing and her eyes asking a question.
He moved to the camera now. His camera, now. He'd take it as part of the payment for fixing their little mess. Not that he would take a cut to his pay. They'd paid for amateurs, and been displeased, so now they'd have to pay more for him to have even seen the atrocity the amateurs had made of this.
Once he'd set up, taking the pictures was a very brief affair, his model was so well-behaved, just as he'd expect of the little angel he'd made her, so in a very short time, he was certain he'd have the shot they'd want.
And with that, he was pleased. He looked around at the messy, dark room, and turned off the lights, extinguishing his angel, preparing to leave.
He wondered what to do about the girl. he couldn't simply leave her here to rot, or for the dogs to eat. Even though she was useless now, she'd served him well. She, at least, had been much more useful at the time than any of those vapid poppets that still breathed.
He knew immediately the best option. A cremation for his angel. No sense in leaving clues for the police, even if he'd cleaned up the atrocity the amateurs had made, there was always the chance that he could have slipped a little. He didn't like it, but it was possible.
He looked at the darkened angel, left in her final repose on the divan, and smiled. She could not have done better. He was still smiling when the first flames licked at her form and he turned back to the door.
Advertising had gotten so much easier lately, he thought.