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Chapter X:
Prelude to a Requiem

After stocking up on the necessities, Alfred and I headed back to his place to rejoin our respective mates.  I half expected to walk in on the two doing something borderline naughty, and I got just that.  It was just playful goofing around though.  Michelle was very attractive, but she couldn"t un-gay Chris.  At least with the minimal effort she was using.

"About time you guys got back, everything alright?" The vixen asked and helped us with one of the bags.

"Yeah everything"s great," Al noted cheerfully.  It was half a lie, mostly since I couldn"t tell if he was being sincere or not.  After all, he had that hole burning away in his chest for over a decade, and he couldn"t tell anyone about it.  Something told me he didn"t even share his little secret with Michelle.  To her credit, she noticed something was wrong with me, so she leaned up and gave me a little peck on the cheek and a smile before she took some of the bags and wandered to the kitchen.

Chris slinked over and helped as well, though once all the snacks were piled on the table next to the set up board game, and the drinks were cooling in the fridge, he tried to pull my coat free.  I let him succeed, but then I remembered I was packing heat, which needless to say made my associates a little uneasy.

"Whoa, you"re actually lugging that thing around now?" Alfred blinked, but gave a soft chuckle.  

"Oh, yeah, this is for protection...there"s this guy after me apparently," I said it in a joking manner, though I started to unfasten the holster, no reason to try and spoil the good mood.  "Sorry, forgot I had it on." I sincerely had forgotten, otherwise I wouldn"t have agreed to walk into a 7-11esque store after the sun had gone down.

Thankfully, it wasn"t brought up again.  I was worried that it would have ruined Chris" demeanor, but he gave me a big hug before sitting down next to his vulpine sidekick for the evening.  I of course smiled to my own co-pilot and sat down, game on.

"Yeah you said Adams, but you didn"t say which Adams!  How were we to guess you meant to say John Quincy instead of just John?  Big difference, it doesn"t count!"

Ah yes, it was a big night.  We drank, we ate, and we played Cranium.  Eventually the official game was finished and we opted to just try and find questions to badger each other with, turning it into quite an affair.  After all, how else would a Friday night be spent?  It would have been the perfect end to an otherwise really depressing day for me.  Though my gears quickly changed directly once more as my phone went off in the middle of my debate of using last names only shouldn"t work.  I mean seriously, you should have to know the whole name to get credit for it.  Michelle kept giving me cautious looks for most of the evening however.  When I got up to get another drink she accompanied me and tugged me into the kitchen by my arm.

"Hey hold up for a minute," she sounded serious and gave me a rather concerned gaze.  I recognized that look.  She could tell something was up.  "Are you going to tell me what"s going on?"

I sighed, but eventually shook my head.  "I don"t think I should...not now at least, I mean-" she interrupted me by means of placing her finger on my lips.

"Don"t make excuses, Pavel.  It"s ok though, I understand.  Just, tell me sometime, ok?  You know all I do is worry about you.  Especially when you go from moping around to acting like nothing is wrong."

As always, she was spot on.  Suddenly I started to feel the pangs of regret, tension, and uncertainty once again.  All that went away however, when she embraced me tightly.

"Just promise me you"ll be ok.  Promise?"

I couldn"t say no to her, but I found a way around saying yes while we shared a hug for a moment.  "I"ll do my best," which was my honest answer.  It was all I could do.

She didn"t look too pleased at this, but he squeezed me affectionately all the same.  "Hmpm, fine, be that way.  Just don"t forget you can always come to me.  Always."

Michelle was so sincere I think it made me blush.  I cared about her too of course; she was virtually another sister to me.  We shared each other"s warm and closeness for a moment before she finally broke it off.  There wasn"t much else that could have been said, except for a "thank you" after she handed me a drink.  We went back, sat down, and continued to enjoy ourselves.  Things were engaging and entertaining for another hour or so until it all came to an abrupt halt.

My phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Morozov, get down to the station, now.  There"s going to be another briefing on the case." She wasn"t mincing words or signals.  At least the chief herself had called me in, must have meant I was too important to risk leaving out.

"Y-Yeah of course, I"m on my way."  I didn"t want to say those words, but I had to.  The party had ended; my companions held back their own desires and put my obligations first.  They were so understanding.  I truly was auspicious to have them.

"Hey you"ve got stuff to do, we understand.  The night is still young...if you finish up, you can always come back and we can pick this up again," Michelle said while she cleaned up some errant crumbs from the table.  

"Yeah that"s true, what is it...uh, only 10pm?  I know I"ll be up," Alfred pitched in.

I was feeling a bit better, but still the one I was worried about the most was Chris.  I did promise him a night alone after all, but he supported my every move, "Go get "em, tiger."

Ugh.  Not that again.  It meant he wasn"t too heartbroken though.  After all, if it was just a briefing I"d probably be back before midnight, meaning we could potentially share my bed.  My mind wasn"t focusing on the killer at large, the police were more than capable of catching him, and I certainly wasn"t offering much to the investigation.

"I"ll see you guys in a bit, hopefully," I mused while sliding on my jacket.  I was also sure to double-check my firearm.  And with that, I left the happy, warm environment to venture back into the cold darkness of the winter night.  A few fat snowflakes fell from the sky as I made my way to my car and sped off to the familiar building with great haste, but I still obeyed the speed limit.

Getting a parking spot was more than the usual hassle; by the looks of things it was going to be a much larger briefing than before.  As I reached the third floor my instincts proved correct, since the entire open lobby was converted into some sort of misshapen conference room.  I had to make my way through a sea of chairs and chatting people; it was a real pain in the ass.  Thankfully, I was able to find a seat and plop down, despite it putting me next to two unfamiliar and seemingly unsociable police officers.  They must have had plans for their Friday night, but I doubt it could have beaten chips, dip, and trivia questions.  After ten minutes of chaos, it all dimmed down and all eyes were on the chief of police, who stood behind a podium.

"Alright, now we can get started.  I"m sure you all know why we�re here.  This case has gotten the attention of the FBI, which means their agents will be here tomorrow morning."

"If that"s the case, then why not hold off the briefing until tomorrow?" Although it wasn"t time for Q&A, questions were still being thrown out from the audience.  I remained silent, a good listener.

"Because there is most likely going to be another body before then.  I trust few of you are aware of what happened at the Syline facility, but first let me bring everyone up to speed.  Our suspect is Gregory Xavier, 33 years of age, airline pilot, no previous criminal record.  As of 6:53pm today, he has killed at least 3 people."

That was surprising news.  That was very disturbing, surprising news.  6:53...that was around the time the sick bastard called me.  There was no way to positively confirm this, but I trusted my memory, even with its problems.  A slide show started again, and it displayed the driver"s license of Greg, the guy who was doing all this crazy with seemingly no reason at all.  At least now I knew what I was looking for: a skunk.  Never would have guessed that since there was no fur left at any of the crime scenes apparently.  Five foot ten, one hundred and ninety pounds, and to top it all off, he was a pilot?  It just wasn"t adding up.  Neither was the number of his victims.

"There were two bodies found in the victim"s own homes yesterday morning and this morning, both of which the police were notified shortly before witnesses saw our suspect fleeing the scene.  In the last two hours, it was brought to our attention that Amanda Gurnev and Chance Olson have both been reported missing, however we discovered Gurnev"s body just moments ago.  She was strung upside down in a public restroom and carved just like the others."

My heart sank.  Had I been too late?  Did my holding information lead to her demise?  Was it my fault?  No?  No.  I couldn"t think like that, it would only further hinder me.  She was probably reported missing only recently since she had to have been gone for twenty-four hours for the police to properly put out a missing person notice.  And now, she was gone, missing forever.  I had never heard of her until recently, nor would I have met her, but I still felt like I lost someone who understood me.  I couldn"t save her.  I felt so helpless, useless.  Still, I couldn"t stop losing focus now.  After all it sounded like at least the other missing person was alive. Since a body hadn"t been recovered.

"The motive is still uncertain at this point, but this recent killing had footage of the suspect perpetrating murder.  According to what forensics have inspected, it is the exact same style as the other two killings.  Also, a witness saw our suspect get into a large, green van.  License plate is still unknown, but we"re still looking into this."

Video evidence?  A van?  Great news, but why was he suddenly getting sloppy?  My questions never got answers, but I listened all the same.

"Due to his pattern, there may be another murder in the early morning, anywhere between 5am and 6am, if he chooses to follow his pattern, which after discovering the latest victim that is up for debate.  According to our sources, there are two definite targets left that our suspect has planned to eliminate.  Chance Olson, who was reported missing by his girlfriend earlier today at noon, and Pavel Morozov, who happens to be one of our consultants, and is currently attending this briefing."

The chief looked at me, along with everyone else soon enough.  I sighed deeply, hoping that now that I came to the station they didn"t expect me to simply sit around on my ass and do nothing.  Part of me was curious as to what happened with Dr. Helsburg, I recalled there being threats on her life.  Unless...hmm, what to do, what do to.  Could she have been at the Syline building?  What was Greg a part of exactly?  How did he get intelligence on what was a closed, secluded experiment in the first place?  How did I not realize he was in my freaking apartment?  Damn, there was so much I wanted to ask her.

I didn"t have any sort of plan; at this rate Greg already had his other victim in his clutches.  Chances were he wasn"t going to kill him in his home, or anyplace he knew that the police might be waiting.  It was likely that if he were going to strike again, it would be in an unknown building, like a warehouse or something.  That bathroom stunt was ballsy, but he wouldn"t pull a repeat performance like that.

"We are working against the clock, the location of Olson needs to be pinpointed.  There will be a few teams sent out, and investigations are still underway.  We are also inspecting at the homes of previous victims and the suspect"s home.  There will be no moves made without consulting first with myself, as I will be taking lead of his case personally until the FBI arrives.  If we work fast, we can stop all of this madness before dawn."

I listened to all of that, but by the time she finished her last sentence I was in the empty elevator waiting for the doors to close.  Once they did, I rode down to the main floor and snuck out without as much as a peep.  The good news was that the police had taken my advice, and were already doing all the right moves.  The bad news was that they would most likely put me under protection, and I wouldn"t be able to move about freely and conduct my own investigation.  Even if I wanted to just abandon the case and let the police handle it, I knew I couldn"t.  It was my duty, my responsibility to see this through the end, even if it potentially put me in grave danger.  Also, I still had a lot I wanted to find out for myself, but there was so little time to do so.  Thankfully, all that info on Greg included his address.  Maybe I could find something there.

Part of me said I should call those waiting on me, but this had to be done now.  The drive was a bit out of the way, but thanks to the Internet I was able to find the fastest route on my office computer.  I did take an extra moment to check around and see if there were any hidden bugs or cameras; it was just too eerie how this guy knew everything and I still knew so little.  That was going to change, at his home I could find out more.  By the time I arrived there, the clock was just approaching 10:37pm and there was already a small group of people I recognized from the department.  As luck would have it, the one calling the shots was my "ol buddy.

"Hey Mills "n Lane, fancy meeting you two here!"  They didn"t share my enthusiasm, though I was sincerely pleased to see that younger counter-point that went well with most veteran cops.  The past few days Miller went without his partner.  I found it somewhat humorous that the pair were both typical stereotypes.  Of all the dog breeds in the world, officer Corbin Von Lane happened to be a German shepherd.

"What"re you doing here?" The canine looked displeased while standing in front of the door, which led to the otherwise unassuming and quaint home. "I figured they would have you on lockdown by now."

"Let him in, forensics haven"t looked around yet, so maybe he can help us find something of interest," Miller added in.

After a sigh, I was let inside.  There wasn"t any chalk, or tape, there were just two other officers trying to find anything of interest.  I figured they already had a warrant, but scanning around the living room wasn"t the best way to go about searching.  Everyday started and ended in the bedroom, so I made my way up the stairs, idly admiring the architecture.  Pilots must make fairly decent livings.

"Where are you off to?" Officer Lane questioned, but he soon started to follow, as he was accustomed to doing.

"You"ll see in a sec, though I guess this guy is divorced.  He managed to keep this place from falling apart, so I can cross off emotional duress due to a significant other.  Also...it seems he has a kid."  That worried me.  I spotted a nice family portrait hanging on the wall at the top of the stairs.  There was Greg, his wife I guessed, and their daughter.  

"Any idea where his family is?"

"We ran a search.  Apparently they moved to California about two years ago.  They were contacted, and claimed they haven"t heard from the suspect since then," Lane responded.

The good news was that they weren"t missing, but why the move to California?  She must have had to get far away from this guy.  And from what he did to his bedroom, I couldn"t blame her.  It was a stark contrast to the rest of the otherwise pristine home.  The comforter and sheets were torn into and tossed carelessly around with fluffy gore all over the place.  The dressers had their drawers ripped free, clothes were scattered around, claw marks, teeth marks, broken glass, all the signs of a breakdown.  I didn"t think skunks had sharp claws, but he was able to rake them through solid mahogany and leave a sizeable chunk missing.  There was always the possibility he didn"t do this, however it was reasonable to assume he did.

"What happened in here?" Lane inquired, scratching his head.

"I believe our suspect took out his frustrations here, and completely trashed the place.  Can"t say when it happened, but I do wonder...hmm," I paused and carefully stepped over some shards of glass, no doubt from the destroyed mirror.

Quickly, I slipped into the closet, only to find a similar story.  The clothes bar had been torn out and broken, there were a few holes either punched or kicked into the walls.  I got to my knees and tried to shift through the mess, but couldn"t find anything worth the effort, save for a photo album.

"And he kept a photo album," I said and opened the hardback cover.  Much to my dismay, the pictures were all torn in half, but still neatly resting in the individual slots.  

It was a scary sight; I could see the life of my adversary before my very eyes.  There was a picture of him, probably on one of his first days of school, such an innocent looking kit.  I flipped through the pages, all of them, filled with various photos, but each one that showcased Greg had been torn in half, sometimes in several pieces, but all put back together again.  Officer Lane leaned over my shoulder speechless as we viewed the pictures.  We decided to fast forward a few pages and years, but it eventually came to one that caught me by surprise.  There was Greg, and Dr. Helsburg...though something told me that back then she was still Dr. Chen.

The picture wasn"t torn into pieces; it was proudly displaying a grinning teenage Greg.  She looked so comforting, trusting, like no matter how dark the story she was told, there could always be light.  Sincere, at least I thought.  Trusting, not anymore.  My views of her had been tarnished in just a day, after I spent years of confining to her.  I remembered my first visit, it was right before high school started...feh, holding onto a memory like that wasn"t going to help me learn anything about this guy.  Other than the fact we shared a therapist, and medication.  

I fast-forwarded through the album once more, getting to the wedding photos, and the child rearing, but then it came to an abrupt halt.  There was a sheet of paper that read, "End of Imprisonment" but when I turned the page, another sheet displayed, "Liberation".  The pictures were no longer torn, and they didn"t have anyone in them but Greg.  The majority were close-ups, but he was always smiling, looking into the camera with those large, blue eyes.  It was clear he had taken the pictures himself without a timer or a tripod, and he took enough to fill sixty pages of the album.  Yep, he was certainly crazy.  There was nothing that pointed to why, except for the magical little pill that went from a mundane to a very important object in my life just recently.

"We aren"t going to find anything here, unless we get lucky," I muttered and sat the album on the bed before I went to inspect the bathroom.  I found an empty bottle of Herlophothetics, and simply shrugged it off.  The date of the prescription was three years ago.  "Should have figured, not like he left any evidence behind any of the crime scenes."

"There must be something," Office Lane said as he scooped up and looked through the album again, going through some of the pages that I skipped over.

I sighed and stretched out my arms, what a waste of time.  I did manage to peek over at the passing pages, and something caught my attention: a familiar emblem on the back.

"That"s Syline"s symbol...was there an in depth check on this guy?"

"There is one being constructed right now, everyone is still scrambling around to try and find out everything they can about him.  We"ve barely had an hour to work with.  Did you find something?"

"I think I found a strong connection...but I"m not sure, don"t know of anything else I can look-" That was when it hit me.  How could I have forgotten?  The flash drive!  It was hidden in the little nook, possibly containing some of Syline"s secrets, and I didn"t even bother to investigate it!  My mind was letting me down again.

It"s your own fault.

Oh no, not again.  I wasn"t going to let that distract me, not now.  "Is there a computer in here?"

Lane shook his head, "There"s no television, radio, or even a coffee maker.  It"s pretty Spartan."

Damn, all I needed was just a bit of time; there could have been even an inkling of help in that little storage unit.  It wasn"t much, but it was still better than nothing.  I did the math in my head, technically thinking, my apartment was closer than my office, all I had to do was swing over there.

"Hey Lane, I"ve got to run.  Though be sure to tell your partner that this guy is deeply rooted to Syline.  At least I think he is.  There needs to be more questioning done there, especially at that building.  I"ll let you guys know if I find anything."

"Huh?  Sure thing, I can come with though, you shouldn"t be out by yourself with this guy targeting you.  He"s very dangerous."

The concern was of course a nice sentiment, and I knew he meant best, but decided against it.  With Greg hot on my heels, he could have been anywhere, and putting someone else"s life in danger after holding my neck out for so long wasn"t the way to finish this case.

"I"ll be alright, you need to help spread the word and look into things with Syline.  They"re not telling the whole story; we need to work fast before any evidence is possibly destroyed."

"This sounds big..." he noted sternly and nodded to me. "You just be careful out there."

I returned the gesture before leaping over the bed to dash down the stairs, nearly bowling right into Miller.  So much for my feline agility and keen sense of direction.  

"Where"s the fire?" The man in charge asked, but I didn"t have time to give a coherent answer.

"Just need to get to a computer!" I shouted back, bolting out the front door to jump into my car.  Time was constantly wasting.  

In the back of my mind I was hoping that my little theory wasn"t going to be another brick wall. A plus side with returning to my home was I could swing by and see Chris and the others.  It was probably only a matter of time before I was put into police protection.  I tried to phone ahead.  As luck would have it, my cell phone was dead.  Gah, it probably hadn"t charged since the first killing took place.  Since then everything has been steadily forcing me downhill.  The whole incident with Syline was becoming more suspicious.  How much were they up to?  I knew Greg was involved, I knew he was.  

I parked, got out and ran, barely closing the door car behind me.  I deftly climbed up five flights of stairs and got to my apartment, panting and heaving, but soon I could sit down and rest.  I unlocked the padlock on my door, but it took a few jerks to get the key to fit in properly.  Must have busted it earlier, or scratched it at least, I could complain to the front office later.  That rough lock should have been my first warning light, since the second warning light was the fact that my lights were on without me flipping a switch.  And the third?  There was a naked otter dangling from my ceiling by his ankles.

"What the...shit," my heart skipped and my pupils must have shrunk.  In that split instant, everything made sense.

The otter must have been Chance Olson.  Why was he in my home?  Greg must have invited him in after picking the lock, the same he did every other time he broke into a locked door.  Why my home?  Because he knew that the police were onto him, and the first place they would suspect was probably a warehouse or something of the sort, not my living room of all places.  I was scared, but I had to get out of there.  If I were caught there wouldn"t have been any hope for me, or for the current victim who I assumed was simply knocked out and not dead, because my carpet wasn"t soaked with his organs.

"Pavel...you"re a bit early."

I knew that voice.  I knew that voice very well, and it made my heart stop.  He was behind me.  That bastard had played me like a fiddle, which was odd considering none of the pictures I saw showed him playing any sort of instrument.  Maybe he obtained prowess with the violin by selling his soul to the devil.  The way he was talking, I"d believe it to be true.  

If you didn"t notice already, my train of thought is easily sidelined when I am put in serious danger.

"F-" I would have shouted, maybe a neighbor would have heard me, but it was hard to make any noise with a thin wire wrapped around my neck.  Instinctively, I tried to grip onto the binding that Greg was successfully choking me with, even though I knew holding onto it wouldn"t help much.  I couldn"t tell if it was piano wire, because thankfully all my assailant was trying to do was keep me quiet instead of slice into my neck earnestly.

"Shh...let"s go inside," the skunk was holding back his bubbly self that had called me earlier.  A knee to my back and a lurch forward helped push me inside of my apartment before the door closed with a slam, but the strangulation didn"t ease up for a second.

Thinking desperately, I knew I still had a chance to escape my predicament.  I reached back, claws unsheathed, and swiped across my attacker"s face.  Much to my surprise, I made contact, and I could feel fur and flesh wipe away from the skunk"s muzzle and over his jaw.  It was enough to get him to lose his grip and I wriggled free and to the ground, heaving for air with my eyes watering.  I had been through a lot of painful experiences, but being garroted like that was easily going to be in my top ten list.  Part of me wanted to vomit, and the other part wanted me to thank nature for putting claws on tigers, despite it being a really lucky strike all the same.  Much to my dismay, Greg just stood there, dropping his wire while droplets of blood started to seep into his black fur.  The pain I inflicted wasn"t enough to even put together a yelp of surprise, or even a wince.  He was dressed like he belonged in some sort of action movie, complete with all black clothing and a trench coat hiding a few goodies and devices strapped to his form.

He still had that grin, the same one I imagined he had when he spoke with me earlier.  Those deep, cerulean eyes stared longingly down at me.

"Hey, that was pretty smart.  Though you know I wasn"t going to kill you.  No, not here," he spoke softly, as if to hide his voice from the rest of the world.

While he rambled I was still trying to call out, but all I managed was a series of weak rasps in between my struggles to draw in air.  I quickly scrambled backwards, light headed, but still mobile.  I clumsily fiddled with my jacket to try and withdraw my only means of plausible self-defense.  Unfortunately I forgot about the low hanging mustelid in the room, and I bumped into him, eliciting a groan from the seriously dazed fellow and momentarily halting my movement.  That was all Greg needed.  He pulled out a collapsible, metallic nightstick his side and leapt at me.  I just needed another half a second, then I would have had my gun pointed between those deranged eyes, ready to fire.  

Time stood still for a brief moment, long enough to tell me that luck didn"t go my way.

The force of the impact further stunned me, and a quick lash against my forearm was enough to cause me to fumble my firearm.  I started coughing and kicking my feet, hoping I could just create some sort of disturbance through the floor.  If only I could get someone"s attention, it wouldn"t have all been in vain.  Alas, the savage beatings across my temple from that slender weapon made everything much more difficult.  Every time he swung his arm my head drifted in the same direction of his weapon upon contact.  I kept trying to put up some sort of fight, but Greg was much stronger than I ever could have expected.  My consciousness was fading, but thankfully he tossed that no doubt blood stained weapon aside so he could wrap his arm around my neck, pressing the back of my head to his chest.  I gasped out and my claws sank into the skunk"s arm, hoping to deter him.  My nails sank through his coat, his shirt, fur, and his flesh; I could feel moisture while I tried to rake through his flesh.  It was the first time I ever used my claws like this, but instincts were taking over, and they were grateful I didn"t partake in manicures.  Greg toughed it out with only a quiet churr, making me feel all the more helpless.  

"Hmm...you were a little early, but once I saw your car, I knew you"d want to come home.  We can"t stay here though, and since you"re not going to behave..." His words were growing softer.  He was holding me in a sleeper hold even as I tried to claw my way through his arm, hoping to cause some sort of damage.

Thankfully, the hold loosened and he threw my head to the floor.  I mentally made a note that my carpet sucked, especially when my face was forced into it.  

There was still time.  I could get up.  Maybe do something, anything.  Before I could even get to my knees a wet rag was pressed to my face.  My world grew cold, dark, and silent all at the same time.  I don"t even know if I managed a weak sigh before losing sensation in my body.  

Was I dead?  No, not likely.  Was I going to die?  

Probably.