#Danny is resting in the realms without noticing the chaos

[theres-a-body-here]

Ghostface with Creep!reader Part 2

Ever since you and Danny made your little movie, it went without saying that you two were now a couple

And he's pretty clingy

Like a cat

In between trials he lays his head on your lap at the campfire

Like he owns it

Arms behind his head along with a loud content sigh

He glances to make sure the other killers are watching

"Babe, you're sooooo comfy"

The others either roll their eyes or groan

He chuckles and then rolls over to press his face into your stomach

"Mhhhmmhhmmmhhh"

You let him move into your realm since he never had one

(Think Haddonfield but sunny)

You give him the tour

"And this is where I filmed Jenny's death. She screamed a lot"

"That's hot babe" camera flash

You show him your home

Or at least the Entity's recreation of it

He looks around as you stand proud

There's a long pause

Silence fills the air

"Hey wolfie......your home blows ass"

You slump

siggghhhhh "I know"

Danny helps you spruce up the place while you're at a trial

"Trust me babe, I know what I'm doing. I once killed a interior home designer"

Returning from your trial, you step into the realm once more and enter your "home," the place where Danny had undertaken the task of redecorating. As you take in the changes, you're surprised to find that he's actually done a good job. Furniture has been shifted around to create a more balanced layout, and paintings adorn the walls, adding a touch of life to the otherwise eerie space. You notice it's some of Carmina's work.

You can't help but wonder if he "borrowed" the artwork, considering his........Danny-ness

However, your gaze lands on something that doesn't quite fit the rest of the decorations. A wall adorned with Polaroids depicting his past murder victims catches your attention. It's a stark contrast to the rest of the aesthetic changes he's made.

"Damn it, Danny, the composition is all wrong," you mutter with a hint of frustration, your annoyance stemming from his lack of attention to aesthetics. The Polaroids are haphazardly nailed to the wall, without any discernible pattern or arrangement.

Beside you, Danny simply shrugs and looks at you with an impish grin.

"Well, can't please everyone, can I? Besides, I thought it'd be a fun way to show off my... accomplishments," he responds with his characteristic smugness, his tone unapologetic.

Rolling your eyes at Danny's response, you can't help but mutter a teasing insult under your breath. "Moron," you scoff, your words laced with affectionate amusement.

You both go on stalking dates

Meaning you sneak around the survivor camp and record them from afar

You both giggle like schoolgirls when you throw a pebble at Dwight's head

The nervous wreck of a leader is so confused as he darts his head around

You record everything on your camcorder

"Wolfie, lemme try. Record this"

"Okay, ready"

You focus your viewfinder on Dwight, expecting another pebble

Something suddenly pierces Dwight's neck at full speed

It makes a squelching sound and then a crack as it hits bone

Dwight falls dead

Danny deadass threw his knife at Dwight

The survivor camp erupts into chaos

Danny grabs your hand as you two hightail it out of there

You're both laughing like hyenas

The Entity makes you both walk Demogorgon around the entire realm as punishment

For a whole week

Well at least you're together

As you and Danny navigate the Yamaoka estate, you hold the leash that's tethered to the Demogorgon. The creature's towering form is a stark contrast to the mundane concept of a "dog," yet here you are.

"Hey, Danny, can you hold the leash?" you inquire, a hint of mischief dancing in your voice. Danny simply shrugs and nods as he takes the leash from your hand. You watch with a faint smirk as he wraps the leash around his hand.

Taking advantage of the moment, you calmly reach down to your boot and retrieve a sliver of jerky. With a casual, nonchalant demeanor, you extend the treat towards the Demogorgon. "Here, boy, fetch," you utter, your tone tinged with amusement as you toss the jerky away from you.

In an instant, the Demogorgon reacts, its predatory instincts kicking in as it lunges after the jerky. The force of its movement catches Danny off guard, and he's practically yanked off his feet, the leash becoming a makeshift tether that tugs him along like a ragdoll.

"Asssshoooollllleee!" Danny's indignant yell carries through the air, the word drawn out as he's pulled farther away from you. His insults grow faint as the distance between you increases, his voice eventually becoming a distant echo.

A bout of genuine laughter escapes your lips. Maybe punishment wasn't so bad as long as Danny was there.

Masterlist here

[spooky-the-owl]

Late night scribble but

My take on the DP/PJO crossover!!!!!

Camp half blood didn't know peace. It never had. How could it. With all the wars, monsters and dangers. All the insecurities of knowing their lives were in the hands of gods. Beings they would rather not trust with their lives. It was chaotic.

They didn't have peace but they had a moment to breathe. The Big War was over. Now the battles with monsters were just squirmishes and petty fights. Now it was a nicer type of chaos. A chaos they could enjoy.

Chiron smiled as he lay his horse body on the ground, enjoying the sunbeams and grass under him. Enjoying the children running around, playfighting, training, talking. This is why he stayed. When he said he enjoyed training demigods he meant he liked being with such rising heroes. Seeing their growth, knowing he had a part in it.

His tail swept the grass when he picked up a commotion at the entrance of the camp. He blew out his breath and put his legs under him. Never a moment of peace. But these were teenagers. Hundreds of teenagers with only one responsible adult to supervise them. So it was expected.

The kids made way for him as he tried to find out what they were crowding. Chiron stopped short at the sight of a new child. It would seem like one of the satyr had brought another demigod to camp. But this one was odd and the old centaur could tell it wasn't a demigod.

The boy looked around like he had been expecting something exciting and wonderful only to get disappointed. He turned to the Satyr. "I'm sorry, Siom, but I think this was a mistake."

Siom looked at him with understanding. "I know it can be a lot. But this really is your home. The only safe place for you. They'll help you."

"Nonono." He shook his head and hands. "It isn't. They aren't like me. I thought-" he looked wistful before dismissing it with slumped shoulders. "It was stupid. There was no way there'd be more like me."

"What are you talking about. They are half-bloods, just like you."

"No." The black haired teen looked over the crowd of kids. They were staring at him in confusion. They were probably expecting a new member. He wished. He had wished for too much. "I don't know what you are, but I'm not a half-blood. I'm a halfa."

Siom frowned and shuffled his hoofs. "What? You said. But you got through the camp borders. And you smell like power."

The self proclaimed halfa smiled at the obviously frustrated satyr. "It's fine. I thought too. It's just a misunderstanding."

"But then, what are you?"

"Don't worry about it, man. I'll just go back. It's not that-"

The boy straightened and suddenly turned to the crowd again, searching more closely for something. There. A teen, dark haired, about his own age, in the midst of the crowd. It was strange to see him as one of the crowd, like a king acting as a commoner.

The crowd gasped gasped when the strange boy tensed and bowed in their direction. They looked around in confusion when the boy looked up straight at Nico di Angelo. “Your majesty.”

Nico, who had been staring at him with narrowed eyes up until then, took a small step back. "You- you're definitely not a demigod. You’re dead- but no. Who are you?"

The new kid smirked, still in the bow. "My name's Danny. I'm a halfa. Half human, half ghost." He straightened as gasps and mutters surrounded him. "You're obviously not like me. So what are your species a hybrid of?"

The kids looked at each other in amusing realization that they were indeed hybrids. The teen Danny had been bowing to answered him cautiously. "We're half-bloods. Half human. Half gods."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "I can believe that from you, but wow your ego lacks nothing huh."

Nico made a face as a few adolescents cracked a laugh. "I'm not joking."

Chiron stepped closer to the two and Danny looked towards him, recognizing him as an adult and expecting an explanation.

Chiron was strangely surprised the kid didn't even glance twice at his hoofs, but gave him what he wanted. "They really are half gods. One of their parents is a god of Olympus."

Danny was taken a back. His eyes flitted up to the sky as if trying to see them. Then he studied the demigods around him. Then the satyr next to him and Chirons. "Am I in a different dimension?" He muttered to himself.

The kids laughed at his serious expression.

"You're the halfa?!" Nico stepped around a few kids to get closer to the boy, who squared his shoulders again and lowered his head lightly. Nico continued with surprised exasperation. "You're my dad's damage control?"

Danny froze. He slowly looked up. "I'm....his what."

"My father is so annoyed by you. You're halfway part of his realm but just out of his control. Not that he wants to expand the population under him," he added, "Just your general existence irritates him."

The half dead child made a face, not as bothered by the fact a god was angry at him. "My general existence is the root of much annoyance."

"Can relate," a boy in the crowd said.

"But I never remember applying for any job. What do you mean I'm damage control."

"You keep the leak from causing any problems. You keep the balance from tipping. You keep order on that side of the Underworld."

Danny's mouth dropped, then closed with a clack. "Oh. So it is the same dimension. The leak, you....you mean the ghost portal?"

Nico shrugged. "I have no idea what kind of leak it is. The breach. The barrier is very thin there so I assume there are multiple leaks. My father was getting a lot of headaches from that but one of his reporters told him about a halfa that was keeping the spirits at bay."

"What?!" Danny balled his fists, looking angry. "You mean I'm doing pest control for some dude who doesn't want to take care of it himself? I don't even get paid!"

Nico and the rest of the campers seemed taken back by the outburst. "My dad's the Lord of the dead."

"I don't care if your dad is Lord of the Rings! He's a terrible employer!"

Now the teens could see that Danny wasn't a normal kid. Apart from the slightly off vibe he was sending, an aura, he was now glowing slightly. Not to mention his bright green eyes where blue used to be.

"I've almost completely joined his kingdom mutliple times and not even a check?? Do I get offdays?? I got stuff to do! This is a full-time 24/7 job. Even the fact that I'm here is so risky. I'm counting on my friends to call me if it gets out of hand and I'll just have to find a portal to lead me there. Not even breaks."

One of the girls laughed and reached her hands out, trying to appease him. "Calm down, dude."

"I don't even get lunch breaks! That is so illegal. Don't tell me the oh so mighty Lord of the death is higher than the law."

"He is."

"I'm going to file in a complaint." He looked Nico, furious. "Where does he operate from."

Nico looked around, not knowing what to do to keep this agitated ghost from confronting the literal God of death. "He- uhh well... in the Underworld."

"That's- that the Ghost Zone right. Your highness, do you have any idea how big that thing is?? Where?"

Nico bit his lip. "Well there is a direct route straight to his throne, but it's a very specific place."

Danny wasn't deterred. "Write down the adress. I'm so sick of this. Please, write it down."

"Hold on, child." Chiron stooped down to hold him still by the shoulder. "Let's discuss this calmly. This is not a matter that should be rushed through."

Danny noticed how the man was having trouble keeping himself balanced as he put his hand on his shoulder and flew up to meet him at eye level. This earned gasps from the teens. The halfa grumbled. "Yeah, you're right. But I don't have that much time. The breach in my hometown allows very dangerous ghosts to cross. I'm not sure how long they'll manage without me."

"Then just go back now." The prince of the dead tried to convince him.

Danny shook his head, frowning. "No, no way. This is injustice. I deserve better. I'm still alive, I deserve to live it." He turned back to the centaur. He trusted this man. He was a grown-up. He had to know what Danny was going through. He would understand. He would help him.

Chiron could not believe this teenager. Why were all teenagers like this? Was it compulsive? To rebel against higher beings? Powerful beings? Did they have absolutely any sense of hierarchy? Couldn't they think past their own feelings of injustice and see people in power could do what they want?

Chiron smiled. How he loved teenagers.

"I see you're very certain of your decision." Danny nodded his head vigorously as Chiron continued. "But I implore you to this the demigod way. You're used to being on your own I assume, given that you mentioned you're the only of your species." Chiron noticed the uncomfortable face the boy was making and figured it was a little complicated. He moved on. "But here are multiple demigods that can strengthen the other's weaknesses and could greatly help you during your trip."

Chiron shifted his hooves until he was facing the crowd of excited teens. They could feel a quest coming up and were itching to do something after so much rest. They were also most probably very interested in this strange, witty, ambitious and outraged teen and would pay to see him file a complaint against the Lord of the Dead.

"We usually stay in here, where it's safe. But if something important must be done outside of it we go out in groups of three. It's the perfect amount of people to protect themselves but not attract too much attention."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Why do you stay here?"

"Our smell attracts monsters from the underworld," a kid in the crowd answered and got more amused the more incredulous Danny got.

"You- okay. I can see that happening." He sniffed the air experimentally. "I thought it was the strawberries rotting or something but now that I'm close enough I'm guessing that smell is y'all."

The expressions he got in return where as amused as they were exasperated. They got comments on their smell often enough.

"So who wants to come with me and sue a god?"

One of the teens pushed himself around others and ran up to him and Chiron, a wild grin on his face. "I'm coming! I call dibs!"

"You can't call dibs. That's not fair!"

Chiron looked a bit alarmed. "You are a powerful demigod and asset for the camp, not to mention your smell would attract more monsters than it's worth. Are you certain you wanna go through with this?"

The boy thrust his chin up. "Of course. The war is over, don't you think I deserve this?"

"You deserve some time to rest and recover and enjoy yourself." Chiron knew the teen had gone through far enough trauma. He didn't want him to be forced upon more.

The other looked at the centaur in the eye, begging him to understand. "You think I can do that here?" Chiron paused to consider this. Meanwhile, the other pulled Danny's floating foot down and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Besides, this dude looks like he knows how to have fun. We'll have a great time!"

"Percy." A blonde stepped closer to him. "Are you sure it's a good idea? It's so close after the war and we should train to be ready for anything that happens."

Percy waved the hand that wasn't around the halfghost's shoulders in the air, annoyed. "The war’s been over for months. You can take care of yourselves. And it's not like I'll be slacking off out there." He was resolute. "I'm coming." Then he added as an afterthought. "As long as the angry employee here doesn't mind."

Danny took a moment to realize he was being addressed. Honestly he wouldn't mind him coming with. He seemed like a fun, relaxed and headstrong dude. And Danny could tell the other wanted to leave this place. Like Danny, he wanted a break from all the responsibilities. He could vibe with that.

He grinned back toothily, showing off his fangs right in the boy's face. "I'd like that."

Chiron ignored Percy's shocked face and Danny's satisfied smirk. He turned to Nico, who'd been watching them warily. "Nico."

The boy shook his head. "No way. I'm not coming with them."

"Please. With you along they won't get many issues crossing past Charon. And if you do, you're best possible option to figure out another way. Not to mention that this very much involves your father, your domain, and you too."

"Fine," he huffed and Percy cheered.

"Yay, Deathbreath, join us!"

Danny smiled wide, lips quirking in mischief, and gave a bow. "Very honoured you agreed to help this paesant. Good to know at least some royalty is decent."

Nico deadpanned. "I'll be complaining the whole trip."

Chiron spread his arms to call the attention back to himself. "Looks like the quest is set. I trust Percy and Nico will fill our new friend in on everything during the journey. Ready everything and pack some ambrosia. You will leave as soon as you're ready."

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 4: Illusions - A Fairy Tale Town

Danny always needed to become Phantom, for everyone’s sake. And the Observants knew this well, so they made sure he would be exactly what they needed and wanted.

The Observants remember the day clearly, the day a human child opened a portal into their realm. Subsequently dying instantly, yet only halfway. The very fabric of the Ghost Realm had shook with shock and the boys' screams had filled every inch of the Realm. The hole that was torn sucked in ectoplasm like a massive black hole, bombarding the boy with ectoplasmic energy. Creating the world's second halfa and the start of a heroes career, protecting his human town and the humans in it.

...Or that’s how the story goes, what everyone believes to be true. And that’s what they have to believe, for the town’s sake, for Phantom’s sake, for the Realms sake.

And most of the story is indeed true. They boy truly was a halfa, and a hero. But what the Observants covered up, made sure not even Phantom knew, was that the portal he created had pulled in so much ectoplasmic energy that it had enveloped and killed the entire town. In an instant pulling the whole place into the Ghost Realm. Every single human, animal, plant, and insect becoming ghosts due to the massive shock of pure ectoplasmic energy. It had thrown the geography of the Realm askew and created a massive new pocket in the Realm.

But they had seen this coming, knew it would happen. So they had prepared, made sure the area where the town would merge into their Realm, was closed off and empty. Dubbing it the Barren Lands, and warding other ghosts away from the place. When the town finally did appear, the portal the boy activated became the only access point between the Barren Lands and the rest of the Ghost Realm.

ClockWork had come to them then, knowing this was going to happen as well as they did. ClockWork had done their job, freezing the town in time. Ensuring not a single of Amity’s ghosts ever actually saw or realised they were ghosts. While the Observants did their duty. Casting glamours on everyone and everything, returning it to how it looked before death. Sealing away any powers, hiding the ecto-signatures, making their ectoplasm mimic human blood and organs, heartbeats, pulses, brainwaves. They did this for everything and everyone, except the young halfa. Who by his very impossible nature, would be too unstable to dare mess with. But it was far more than that.

The Observants knew, had seen, who he’d become. Phantom, the High King of ghosts. The most powerful, but irrevocably merciful, ghost to ever exist. The trials and errors he needed to experience. And the sad truth was, he couldn’t experience those without being a hero and protector to his ‘humans’.

Because in truth, there was nothing truly wrong with letting the entire town exist in its natural ghostly state. The Realm was more than used to adjusting to massive influxes and geography changes. Especially with the prep work having been done. But then Phantom wouldn’t grow to be who and what he needed to be. What they needed him to be. What both Realms needed him to be.

He wouldn’t have grown the be adored as a hero and protector. He wouldn’t have learned how to hide and lie. He wouldn’t have learned how to battle and provide first aid. He wouldn’t have been given all the hardships. He wouldn’t have learned to deal with hunters. He wouldn’t have had to fight battles alone or believe that everything relied on him. Because, in the end, everything did rely on him becoming Phantom. Not just another ghost. Without all the lessons he wouldn’t be Phantom. He’d just be Danny the halfa, as average as any full ghost outside of his biology. If the town’s folk knew they were ghosts, that the whole town was dead, and thusly knew Danny was a halfa. He would have been much more of an outcast and he never would have felt like a wolf surrounded by sheep.

So they built an illusion for him, his own private world in the form of a small town and it’s people. Procured something for him to protect, something to keep him tied to his humanity. A little habitat to hide away in, and to hide himself from. A stage for him to struggle on, with an audience intentionally made unable to help much. Because heroes are built-in storybooks, fabricated by writers always looking to the future for the best end result. And suffering heroes make for the strongest ones.

They made sure this illusion worked in all directions as well, not wanting to risk any ghosts finding the truth or knowing what they had done. As far as the rest of the Ghost Realm knew, Amity was a human town in the Mortal Realm filled with humans and their one halfa protector.

So the boy went about his half-life none the wiser. Learning, growing and being guided into who he would become. And they all made a decision, that the boy was to never ever know. That the blame of killing off the whole town instead of just himself would destroy him. Being indirectly responsible for just six deaths was enough to break him. So this being discovered could not be allowed.

That, however, had left them with a problem. The ghosts made ‘human’ would eventually have to ‘die’. Of course, if any of them ‘died’ non-natural deaths that would be bad for the development of the future High King. So they had allowed the ‘humans’ to retrain a ghosts heightened durability. Able to handle legs getting crushed in lockers without sustaining broken bones. Buildings coming down on them with nothing but scratches. Ensuring everyone would ‘die’ of old age or sickness. At which point an Observant would take the ghost to be relocated into the Ghost Realm proper. Never telling them of the fact that they had actually been dead for a while. Not only would telling them the truth risk the town and Phantom finding out. But informing someone they’ve been dead for a while and were forced not to know it, well that was a level of cruelty they’d rather not stoop to.

Of course, there were other issues, humans liked to travel and logically some of the ‘humans’ would move out of town. Which is why they made it so that any of the Amity ghosts would be subtly transported to the Mortal Realm if they went far enough out of Amity’s/the Barren Lands territory. They would inevitably mistake the need to return to the Ghost Realms ectoplasm rich environment for homesickness. Returning to Amity either periodically or permanently. By the same logic, humans could easily visit the town, never knowing they were actually in the Ghost Realm.

But one thing the Observants couldn’t truly do away with was that all ghosts had ghostly nature, it was unavoidable. Resulting in all of the Amity ‘humans’ being strange and intense to actual humans. The Amity people seemed to pass this off as the ‘charm of small-town people’ and ‘being so used to ghost attacks has made us too weird for the rest of the world to handle’. They never came off weird to each other, since ghost nature wasn’t strange to other ghosts. Also insuring that no one noticed any of Phantom’s ghostly behaviour. Sure that was also partly because the Observants had placed a glamour over their eyes, making them unable to make the visual connection between Phantom and Fenton and never noticing his transformations or power usage. Only those that Phantom himself deeply wished to know stood a chance of ever finding out, under normal rules of reality anyway. Of course, if Danny actually saw anyone seeing him transform then they would indeed see it, since logically they should. But overall, his secret was perfectly protected regardless of how obvious it generally was.

There had been some problems of course. Most notably because the town was very much Phantom’s lair, meaning he had a level of control over it that he simply would not have if Amity was still alive and not part of the Ghost Realm. But as expected, Phantom passed it off as one of the weird aspects of being a halfa. And since he knew he shouldn’t have much control over a human town, his body subconsciously suppressed altering the town or its inhabitants. Effectively reinforcing the illusion. Just one of the many aspects of Phantom that was just endlessly helpful.

There had been plenty of close calls, Pariah and Freakshow being the worst. But thankfully both had caused too much chaos for anyone to realise that some of the things that were happening, shouldn’t be. They knew that would be the case but they still worried, still fretted that their elaborate game, the story they had weaved for the young boy, would come apart at the seams. But these were also the most vital things he needed to experience. Needed to see acceptance from his family, needed to fight back against his own mind being controlled by outside forces, needed to earn the right to rule. So it had to happen and they had to watch, filled with trepidation all the while.

Eventually, they grew rather comfortable to leave the town and Phantom to his devices, feeling content and comfortable in the growing prince and his fairytale storybook lair. Where everyone and everything wore the mask of life, with only him being left untouched and true to what he really was.

ClockWork, meanwhile, waits for the day when Daniel’s power will inevitably surpass that of even the Observants as a collective whole. When their fabricated reality can’t touch him anymore. He’ll be strong enough to handle the blow by then and the truth is something he deserves. Now the Observants don’t know, of course not, they would try to stop it if they did. Since Daniel’s most likely future actively and explicitly involved him not finding out. But there were far more where he did find out and ClockWork had no issues manipulating and altering things here and there to ensure he would find out the truth. Just when he was ready.

Which is why ClockWork had let Daniel go back in time, to ‘fix’ Vlad’s ectoacne without any kind of real instructions. It had altered what the Observants could see of Daniel’s future and it secured his path. When they had found out how his future had changed, they had tried to force ClockWork’s hand. To not let Phantom go into the past, only for them the be shown that Daniel’s two friends would die subsequently. Which definitely could not be allowed to happen. Of course, ClockWork could have simply told Daniel to just observe not interfere. But there was no way ClockWork was going to let the Observants in on that information.

But for now, ClockWork will guide and teach Daniel. Prepare him for his future and provide the level of support and understanding only a near endlessly powerful Ancient ghost could provide. While Daniel went through the pages of his story, to rise at the end as not only a hero but a king of kings. Eventually shattering the illusions and stepping into reality in full, pulling Amity along with him. It’s ghosts granted their true forms and earned abilities, given their rightful place as the closest and direct subjects of the High King of Ghost.  

End.

[yeshuah-yahveh-blog]

In Wrathful Waters - Chapter one: Noah’s Flood.

The rain poured down without any sort of mercy when Detective Daniel Hamworth arrived at yet another murder scene, the fifth one in a week, and it was only Friday. As the stereotypical cynical, old man that he was, he just let out a heavy sigh filled to the brim with the burden of his work as well as a touch of self-martyrdom. Even if the caseload has been on par with the labours of Hercules, there was a bright side (except for the occasional coin that filled his purse due to all the overtime) was that the four previous murders were solved pretty quickly. The culprit in each of those cases were arrested within a day or so due to all the concrete, as well as, the circumstantial evidence that was left behind for the police to collect. Detective Hamworth has long ago stopped being surprised by the stupidity of many, if not most, criminals’ intelligence.

  But, then again, only the, what he termed, “Criminal Failures” were apprehended, or even suspected. The Masterminds were never even considered during the investigation of a crime, at least according to him. That even includes the cold cases being reopened. Detective Hamworth had an eerie feeling about all the murders he had investigated this week, and this fresh one peaked his uneasiness. There was something that did not quite add up. What, though, Detective Hamworth did not know, but he knew that, despite being viewed as an apath, he would not be able to rest until that enigma had been solved. The murder victim, a boy that could not have been more than ten years, were positioned on a wooded chair in the middle of a filthy alley. The quick assessment that Detective Hamworth made when he first saw the corpse was that the boy had been beaten to death, by an adult if he had to make a guess. More to the point, Detective Hamworth suspected that the father of the child was the culprit, and a slimmer of something darker and disturbing quickly ran through his head so fast that he did not have to consciously register whatever information this stream-surfing fish of a thought brought with it in its waves.

 As he stood there, dressed in a cheap, grey suit, beige trenchcoat and a pair of worn out, darkish shoes that could not possibly be identified as this type or that, an apocalypse of divine proportion descended upon him. A conclusion composed by innumerable unconscious thoughts from cases past, resulting in something anyone who did not receive this epiphany would consider a conspiracy theory. “Oh fuck” Detective Hamworth said to himself with such a loud voice that the five police officers and his partner, detective Bryan Eastport, heard and reacted to.

“Why the fuck do you stand there screaming fuck for the world to hear, Danny B?”

Said detective Eastport with a tone filled with annoyance and spoiled youth that Daniel Hamworth truly thought that living is Hell, post death oblivion is Heaven. While detective Hamworth lost faith in humanity as it stood, as well as feared the diabolical level the coming generations of naïve, spoiled and good-for-nothing pieces of scum that would be born into this world during his twilight years and after his life has come to an end, he could not contain the excitement that boiled inside of him. Just like when a pot filled with water, placed on a stove, starts to boil, you know that this wrathful water (within both you and the pot) cannot be contained for much longer before chaos seizes control and Entropy becomes Lord and God over the domain of water and the surrounding realms.

“I have never met a person less deserving of life than you, you Hitler-loving, boat fetishist!”

These words poured out of the mouth of detective Hamworth while he, on the edge of breaking with ecstasy due to the revelation he was about to reveal to his clueless partner.

“But, I have to say, despite hating you to my very core, that I have solved five fucking murders at once! Or, at the very least, if one wants to be empathetic, saving imprisonment of the innocent.”

The silence that fell upon the crime scene was so apparent that even a deaf man would pick up on it while being out of eyesight. Finally, the silence were broken by detective Eastport:

“What the fuck are you on about, Dry Bones?”

The voice on which the words surfed out of the mouth of detective Bryan Eastport consisted entirely out of curiosity, resentment, ignorant youth and incredulity. Before detective Hamworth answered the 20 something spoiled, wealthy, daddy’s boy, Sherlock Holmes-wannabe, he tried, come hell or high water, to contain a hysterical, maddening laughter of which he never had the insanity of letting escape from his mind and mouth throughout his entire life, though, sadly, he failed. After Hamworth’s maniacal laughter, making the mad god of the sea proud, he finally, after much effort, managed to convey, more or less, his apocalypse:

“You know those murder cases we’ve had the enjoyment to investigate this week? Have you noticed something that ties all of them, and this one, together? Something that might shed light upon our useless investigative abilities?”

There was a moment of contemplation before Bryan Eastport impatiently said:

“Yeah? What of it? Get to the point before you die, old man!”

There was a part of Daniel Hamworth that wanted to slap Bryan Eastport across the face with a silken glove, or the like, and demanding a sword duel, but he knew that he had to tell someone about this revelation given by God before he drown it in oblivion with alcohol later that day. Ignoring the hurtful statement by Bryan, Daniel continued:

“I truly hope that you are not as clueless as you seem, nevertheless, I shall tell you. Every single one of these murder cases has three things in common; they were all found on a chair, all were beaten to death, and finally, all these murderers has apparently been apprehended, thus case solved. Every single one we’ve been arresting this week was so because of all the concrete and circumstantial evidence that we found on the scene of the crime and throughout the short investigations we led. So obvious, in fact, that we should’ve noticed how convenient all of the evidence were, and I fucking bet one thousand dollars that this case will be solved in a similar way.”

Once again silence reigned over this extremely small part of the planet, at the very least for a minute or two, though it felt like an eternity in eternity. Finally, Bryan Eastport, standing there with his short, pink-dyed, spiked hair, wearing a blue T-shirt with a symbol Daniel dared not think about, though the letter ‘H’ plagued his mind while he observed detective Eastport, and the mysterious, purple pants and the pair of outworldly ugly sandals, that Bryan wore appalled Daniel to the point that he, in all honesty, thought that the Witches in Roald Dahl’s book really should’ve focused on the youth belonging to the teenage years and early twenties, at the very least, answered:

“You’ve been smelling the sealed vodka bottles, haven’t you?”

Before Daniel Hamworth could answer the slanderous accusations of Bryan Eastport, the reporters began gathering around the murder scene like thirsty antelopes around a pond after running from lions two entire days in a row. Before Daniel even could react, his feet began to make its move. He walked towards the horde of reporters, and while he did that he decided that he should give his thoughts to the reporters, whether anyone on the police force, or he himself, liked it or not. When he reached the vultures called reporters and journalists, he felt that maybe what his unconscious mind had decided for him was probably not the better path to walk. His inner instincts conquered the brain, so that detective Hamworth was left completely helpless as his mouth began to spew out his apocalypse to the starving hyenas.

“This week we have investigated five murders, including this one, and before we were assigned this one we thought that, due to the strong evidence we gathered, we had arrested the men responsible of these heinous crimes, though this day has proved us wrong. I believe, in my very bones, that all these five murders were committed by the same culprit, in such a way that other people were arrested, on good grounds, for the murders. That is why I, detective Daniel Hamworth, has decided to name, until now unknown, serial killer ‘The Red Herring’. That is all I have to say, thank you.”

When he walked away from those media butchers, the realization began to descend upon Daniel that he really should not have done what he did. What is done is done, thusly the extremely confused, and (truth be told, God damn Bryan) slightly drunk Daniel Hamworth accepted whatever may come, and began constructing his move against this serial killer, real or imagined, that he had named “The Red Herring”.