Chapter 6: Dominance and Conflict

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It was cold. The air was tense. The dead body of a young woman was found in a dark alleyway. She was stabbed to death. The police had almost cleared the area and were ready to retrieve the body for an autopsy. It was risky business because the body had been stabbed so many times, the head and limbs were fragile. As the rookie officer and forensic specialist prepared the body, someone was waiting above them on a darkened window sill. His jeans and blue hoodie were soaked in blood, making reddish purple splotches on the cheap blue hoodie, with a red triangle and a yellow V over it. His knife was covered with crimson, much like his eyes. He had blood red eyes with only tiny black specs for pupils. He also had dark brown hair, somewhat concealing the monster behind them. The murderer released a maniacal laugh, scaring each of them. He jumps down from the sill with an usual mixture of bluntness and grace, his knife clearly shining in the moonlight. "Hello!" The madman greets with an eerie smile, "Do you like what I did? It was a lot of fun to do!" The cop got in front of the unarmed forensic specialist and tried to whip out her gun but, with inhuman speed, the psychopath stabbed the officer before she could shoot. She tried to keep herself up to call for back up but, she began to feel lightheaded and passed out. To finish her off, he stabbed the cop in the chest, impaling her heart. There was no way she could survive now. The psycho looked over what he had done. He turned around to see that the bystander was running for it. He smiled, bursting into laughter. "Running won't help you! Don't you know that running only makes it more fun for me?" He chased after the forensics expert, backing him into another dark alley, with the madman blocking the way. The poor guy had no way out. "Come on! Don't you want to know my secret?" His to-be victim, shook his head. "Are you sure? It's a good one!" The psychopath walked towards the expert, grabbed him by the chin, and turned his head so he could see his ear. The madman leaned in and whispered, "Jordan Frye is my puppet to play with. I am, now, the host of this body." The specialist looked at him, completely clueless about what he was talking about. Before be could ask, the madman shoved the knife into his throat. When he let go, the forensic specialist fell to the ground. There was nothing more to be done. He was facing certain death. Besides, Jimmy Casket needed to get back before sunrise. He wasn't going to allow himself to get caught.

--

It had been four months since Jordan Frye, or Jimmy Casket, as the police force called him, disappeared. In those seven months, there were 12 suspected murders against Frye in the East Coast area. Typically, the body count rose in bursts of about 3 to 5 people a month. Channon was assigned to lead the investigation due to having some background on Frye a few months before. It bothered the Sheriff that he hadn't been brought to justice yet. Even though his actions were very chaotic, they were also extremely calculated. Jordan knew what he was doing. Channon was deep in his thoughts when a Private sprinted into his office. "What is it, O'Brain?" he asked.

The rookie was out of breath. "He struck again." The Private panted.

"How many?" Channon asked.

"Three. A Jane Doe we're trying to identify, Private Kendra Litwick, and our head of the forensics department-,"

"Eric Swine," The Sheriff had good memories of that man. They solved cases together since the beginning. He bowed his head in respect for the fallen, "May God calm their souls."

"That makes it 15, right?" Channon nodded, "I'm sorry."

Kurt tried to shake it off, "Eh, it's not your fault. You're not Jimmy Casket. Thank you for the update. As you were." The Private saluted and left the room. O'Brain had placed a manila folder on Channon's desk. It held a picture for each of the two identified victims. He pulled out a post-it note for the Jane Doe and placed them on his whiteboard. That was where he kept track of the Jimmy Casket case. Frye casted a large net for his killings, making it difficult for Kurt Channon to identity a pattern of movement. He just had to get away, didn't he? He's been an officer for almost sixteen years. He should've done better than he did. The Sheriff planned to keep his promise but, from the way things were looking, he had no clue how he was going to do carry it out.

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