The Pack and Sidemen Oneshots

Josh/Lachlan- Body

Josh's P.O.V.

There was a report of a body in a field, rumours of a murder floating around the office as I grabbed the bulletproof vest and climbed into the patrol car. I was the most senior officer on duty so was the one in charge of this case, one of the more potentially serious ones we had had in a while.

I was running through every possibly in my mind. Who was this person? I had no information on who they were, all I knew was the location of the body and that the witness had seen bruises and blood. I didn't even know if they were male or female, I just knew they were dead.

Pulling up to the location all I saw was miles of farmland, mile after mile after mile, and there was no one in the area. The witness who had reported the body was long gone, but I knew at once that this was the right place. All I had to do was follow the trail of blood.

It went along the edge of the road for metres and metres, thick blotchy drips that sank into the cracks of the concrete and lead right the body.

It was a young man, clearly, thrown carelessly into the corn field, discarded like a bag of trash. My first thought was that he must have been alive when he was first left there because his legs had moved up to tuck into his chest and his arms were above his head.

That was such a pitiful sight, he looked so young and small even though he wasn't. From my assessment he was maybe 21, 22 possibly, white male with golden blonde hair, tall, maybe 6 foot 1, completely naked, and dead.

I pulled my radio from my belt.

4 2, 4 2, victim is deceased, I repeat, victim is deceased, do you copy? Over.

There was a pause for a second and I looked back at the boy, his eyes peering up blankly over the edge of his arm. They might have been ocean blue at one time but now they were faded and glassy, haunting. He was the same age as little Vikk, one of my roommates, and that was scary.

4 2, 4 2, we copy, victim is deceased. Do you request backup, over?

Backup would be appreciated, over.

4 2, 4 2, sending backup patrol cars, will be there in less than 10 minutes, over.

This was a murder victim, I decided, scanning him. A nameless, eventually faceless young murder victim with his whole life ahead of him, cut short by the act of another hand.

I could see the rope burn around his wrists, bruises painting his body, blood dripping from the side of his head and the thing that might have been the final act, the strangulation marks around his neck. But he had been alive, here in that field. He had died alone, beaten and scared.

Two other cars arrived a couple of minutes later and I stepped back from the body, setting about cordoning off the crime scene. It stretched almost a hundred metres down the road and included some tire tracks, the trail of blood, and him.

"Any word on who it is?" I asked one of the other officers, a junior officer looking decidedly nervous and apprehensive. Probably his first murder case.

"It hasn't been matched yet but a 21-year-old man matching his description was reported missing last week and I've seen the photo."

"And?"

"I think it's him." He pulled up the file on his phone. "Lachlan Power, 21, immigrant from Australia. Never been in trouble with the police before, stable job, roommate reported him missing after going out for a night and he just never came back in the morning."

I nodded, my heart sinking with realization. He probably didn't know his killer, or barely knew them, maybe he met them while out and something went badly wrong.