🆆🅰🆁🅽🅸🅽🅶: OOC, Female!Reader, Reader Insert, Bobby!reader, Younger Female/Older Male, Named Bobby, Established Relationship, Murder Mystery, Mentions Use Of Drugs, Sexist (Light), Mentions Of Death, Short Chapter, Plot Setting Up
🆃🅷🅴🅼🅴: Something's Not Right
🅵🅰🅽🅳🅾🅼: We Happy Few (Game)
🅲🅷🅰🅿🆃🅴🆁: 2/? Parts
[1]The evening soon turned to night, dinner for two was made and eaten. Of course you left a full plate in the fridge for your boyfriend.
Night stick strapped to your side, uniform fixed and clean, the final thing was the spare gas mask Winslow always kept for emergencies.
He wouldn't mind if you used it.
Locking up your house's door and any windows, you've heard rumors from other constables that there were a series of break-ins and you didn't want to be among those people. It also helped your Joy withdrawal paranoia, since the Joy Lady is taking her sweet time making a new batch of the special kind. The streets empty of civilians, only bobbies and search machines, all looking out for law breakers and Downers alike. Your shoes tapped against the rainbow road, the sound echoing as you walked through the green fog.
"Wonderful night." A passing constable greeted with a tip of his hat, you returned the greeting with one of your own. You were glad they hadn't stopped you for a chat, you really need to get to the crime scene before the cleaners come by. It was another Foggy Jack murder- latest one in the long line of deaths.
You're so close to capturing that man!
But he always finds a way to slip through your fingers and laugh in your face.
Your lips pulled back in a frown, hands curling into fists when you felt the anger rise at the thought. Rounding a few corners and even by passing a Joy Detector Gate, being a bobby sure does have its advantages. Soon you would find the very spot, a few bobbies standing guard but seemed bored in their position. The two took notice of your presence but did not dare to question you, you think its kind of weird how constables work. They turned a blind eye upon entering the crime scene, no yellow tape instead were the wooden horses the police would use. No cleaners in sight, that's a good thing, you got plenty of time. Before you got to work, you took in the sight of the victim.
Blonde female. Possibly in her thirties- early forties.
From the sight, it appeared as if she were disemboweled. You honestly won't fully know until the forensics states other wise, it could be possible the killer killed her first before chopping her open but you won't know for sure. Tugging your gloves further on, securing them in place, no need for them to fall off. Kneeling down but not close enough to catch any blood, you honestly don't want to get your uniform filthy.
If you had to guess, the constables have already collected whatever evidence they needed. Leaving you with very little but there was always a chance they could've overlooked something. From your past discoveries and the good doctor whose on the ride with you, had shared with you about these little notes left behind. The killer had never done that before until recently, these messages always left the two of you confused- always containing a single word or a full sentence. Leaning forward to check the corpse, you couldn't be bothered with the pockets, it's not that obvious.
"Where are you hiding, little buddy?" You murmured to yourself, gloved fingers gliding along the open wound. Usually pieces of parchment would be located there, remembering what the doctor taught you. Feeling around in the obvious areas where it mostly would be, nothing's there. The corner's of your mouth tugged downward, removing your stained gloved hand- red staining the white fabric. "Not there..." [EYE COLOR] orbs glancing up to the masked face, the blonde's eyes once blue, well one eye, now's a milky color. It seems Foggy Jack had removed one of them during the scuffle. Eyes lowered to the woman's plump lips, they remained oddly closed. As if she was silent during the murder, a brow rose upon your face. You've never seen such a thing with a corpse, granted you only looked over the ones that were involved with the infamous murder.
It was hard at first, rigor mortis setting in, but you were able to crack open the jaw. The sound made you cringe and the feel wasn't something you liked, the light from your hat revealing the inside of the woman's mouth. [EYE COLOR] eyes locking onto what you were expecting, something small and folded. You were prepared to see the stained paper, saliva making the words smudge and unreadable. You were pleasantly surprised about the lack of damage, the ink not even seeped through.
"Got you, little bugger." Opening the parchment, whatever liquid there was had dried up long ago.
'𝒮𝓊𝓇𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒!'
That's what all was written, the cursive a little hard to read. Flipping the paper back and fourth, of course it's going to be one of these! You scoffed at this, looking to the victim once more.
Is this really all she's going to give you?
Standing to your feet, dropping the paper into an evidence bag you brought along.
"Well thanks anyway, Miss." You said to the corpse, shaking your head. Maybe hanging with that doctor was to much, picking up on some of his mannerisms. You don't need to stay close anymore, she'll be shipped out soon and you'll get more information once the forensic team took a look. While walking away from the crime scene, you've removed your gloves. The cool air hitting your heated hands, wearing gloves all day usually made your hands sweat from the insulated warmth. Sliding the stained fabric into the cleaner of the two, you pocketed it, patting your other pocket that held the prize.
On your walk back home, you thought about what you'll do tomorrow. Visiting your 'partner-in-crime' would be your main focus, even though the doctor is helping you. You just couldn't help but think that man is hiding something from you, he tries to play it off so calmly.
While you were buried in your thoughts, you hadn't noticed a dark figure following. They weaved into alley ways and even walking along the pipes that were suspended.
Always watching...
Always following...
You came to an abrupt halt, being dragged out of your reverie upon something before you smacking into the stone ground. Looking up in surprise, eyes glancing anywhere to find some form of indication of who or what could've thrown that. Upon finding nothing but closed windows with potted plants, [EYE COLOR] eyes looked to what was before your feet.
A rotted apple.
The soft parts splattered across stone, some bits lying on your black shoes. The colors contrasting from one another, you couldn't help but grimace.
"Eww, gross." You made an attempt to shake the clutter off but to no avail, "Darn birds." You blamed, it wasn't uncommon for those flying creatures to drop something. Food or bodily fluids, you were kind of glad it wasn't the latter. Pulling out an handkerchief, flopping the fabric into the rotten apple. You didn't waste any time throwing the thing away, both apple and handkerchief.
It's best to keep the streets clean much as possible.
Now you feel gross! Even though you hadn't touch it physically, it still made you feel dirty. Mold and rot being the least favorite things to touch. When you get home, you'll take a quick shower and head straight to bed. Needing to work in the morning, no need to be late due to staying up later then usual.
---
The lights of your home clicked on, revealing your small kitchen. Gas mask discarded upon the counter the one that connected to the sink, you'll put it away when you get up for work. Work hat had been unclipped and rested upon the coat rack along with your blue jacket, you starting to feel so much lighter now. A yawn escaped your parted lips as you locked the door, checking it three times before deeming it acceptable. You usually forget to lock the darn thing at night... Shoes were the next to come off, using the table as a means to keep you up straight while removing the boots. They sat neatly beside the door, not caring if you'll trip over them later. You sighed at the feeling of how lonely the house was, memories surfacing from the past. They started off as headaches but soon turned into annoyances.
You didn't want to remember your parents...
Each step you took made the stairs creak and whine, the orange carpet muffling the sounds. The hallway at the top of the stairs was weirdly in the form of an 'L', on the right is the storage closet and to the left; An guest room and washroom- both doors side-by-side. And finally, if you continue further and took a left is the shared room of yours. You went straight for the bathroom, you just couldn't wait and feel the spray of water against your flesh. Lazily shutting the white door behind you, no need to have it locked (The lock doesn't work anyway). Tossing your used clothing into your hamper, briefly forgetting which one at first. You and Winslow don't share the same one, none of you didn't want to mix any of them together...
Welllll, a few of his button-ups do find their way into your mix. You may or may not wear a few to bed, they're big and comfy! They also tend to smell like his detergent and whatever's left of cologne, it makes you feel less alone. They're yours now.
The sudden coldness made you jolt back with a yelp, shivering from the freezing water.
"Why shower must you betray me! Ahh!" You couldn't help but fake cry, softly laughing to yourself. After a few more minutes, you slipped under the heated water. Shoulders and muscles relaxing under the spray, "Ahh, that's nice!~" You just stood there, letting the water calm you. "I should call off and take a long nice hot bath for myself instead. Mmmm.~"
Reluctantly, you slightly moved out of the raining water to retrieve your shampoo and conditioner.
Why must you torture yourself by having them so far away?
Waterfall scented shampoo was the first, lathering your [HAIR COLOR] hair. Foamy soap slipping down your face and neck, eyes closed to keep the substance out. You really didn't want to have your eyes burning up from the soap getting into them! You froze when the feeling of a set of hands glided along your sides, quickly turning to find that no one was there. Pulling back the curtain just enough to spot someone, still nothing.
You swear there was somebody with you at that moment, before you could ponder on this further. You sucked in a breath, soap seeping into your open eyes.
"Fuck that hurts." You mumbled, quick to rinse the chemicals out.
[1]-Indents don't show.