#my knee/area just above my knee is the latest victim. girl what the fuck

[breanime]

Butterflies (Part Two)

Part Two to Butterflies!

Strong WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, veiled threats of further abuse, Nick Amaro quietly freaking the fuck out

*gif not mine*

The house was quiet; Nick was gone when you woke up, but you felt him press a kiss to your temple before he left. Now you sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper as you sipped your morning coffee. You’d been up well into the night cataloging witness statements for your latest case while Nick looked up locations for your wedding. You smiled as you thought about his excitement.

“You know, this place seems all nice and fancy on the surface, but we’ve busted them for prostitution at least three times in the last five years,” Nick said, laptop propped up on his knees.

You didn’t look up from your own laptop, shaking your head as you moved your files around. “How are they still open?”

“Friends in high places,” he answered, “You sure you don’t mind this? The big wedding and all the fanfare that comes with it?”

You looked up at your fiancé, smiling at the look of caution on his face. Nick was all for a traditional wedding with his kids and both your families there, but he said he’d be fine with just a trip to the courthouse for the two of you—whatever you wanted. “I’m sure,” you said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his waiting lips, “A big wedding will be fine, besides—how cute is Zara going to be in her dress?”

His grin widened. “So cute,” he agreed easily, “and her step-mom is going to look gorgeous…as soon as she picks her dress.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the headboard. Picking your dress was a nightmare; everything was either too fancy, too expensive, or too frilly. “Can’t you just pick one for me?” You whined, shifting the laptop and papers on your lap. “You have better taste than I do.”

“Well, I did pick you,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. You loved these kinds of moments, when it was just you and Nick, planning your future togethers and laughing. Later that night, after the two of you put your work away and laid in bed, holding each other, you felt those butterflies in your stomach as you pictured more nights like this, nights held by the man you loved, your lips on his and his hands on you. You couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Nick Amaro.

You floated on the memories of the previous night all the way to work, moving through your workload surprisingly quickly. You and Nick had exchanged a few texts throughout the day, and your hubby-to-be had sent you links to some sites that made affordable, custom wedding dresses. Satisfied with the amount and quality of work you’d done today, you leaned back in your chair and browsed some of the links Nick sent you. There was a knock on your door, and your secretary peeked her head in.

“Mrs. Amaro…” She began, smiling.

You rolled your eyes; she was almost as excited about your upcoming nuptials as you and Nick were. “Not an Amaro yet,” you corrected, chuckling.

“…Well, your witness for the Patterson case just called. She said she’s having second thoughts about her testimony?”

You sat up, dropping your phone on your desk. The Patterson case was a clear winner, and this girl was your star witness. “What? When? Why?”

“Just now, she didn’t say why…” She took a note from her pocket. “Asked if you could meet her at this address and go over it again?” She walked in, handing you the note. “She sounded…off…”

You stood up, grabbing your bag and chucking your phone in your pocket with the note. “I’m not gonna let her recant,” you said, determined, “Hold all my calls, I should be back in an hour.”

You stormed out of your office and into a cab, tapping your foot impatiently as the cabbie drove you to the address you’d given. You were so focused on what you were going to say to your witness, you didn’t even realize where the cab had dropped you off until he was driving away and you were standing in the street…

…alone.

You looked around, hand on your purse strap. The buildings around you were all abandoned and decrepit, and there was litter all over the street. You weren’t familiar with this neighborhood, and you knew, as you stood alone in the street, that your witness wasn’t there. You pulled out your phone, about to call the cab back, when you felt a leather-clad hand slap over your mouth. You wanted to scream—tried to scream—but the hand was suffocating you. You tried to fight, but the person dragged you into the building.

The butterflies were quickly replaced with the cold, harsh stab of utter fear.

Nick and Munch walked into the squad room, armed with all kinds of greasy take-out for the squad. They were debating the pros and cons of assigned seating at the reception when Nick noticed the grim look on Olivia’s face. Cragen and Fin were standing with her around her desk, and Rollins was clicking away at a computer close by, her face serious and concerned.

“Liv?” He titled his head slightly. “What’s going on?”

“Nick,” she said, her voice was soft and careful like when she spoke to victims, “When was the last time you spoke to Y/N?”

Nick’s blood went cold. “I—she texted me… an hour and a half ago—what’s going on?”

Olivia put her hands up, preparing herself to have to hold him back, he thought. “It might be nothing…” she started.

“What might be nothing?” Nick dropped the food on a desk, stepping up nervously. “Did something happen? Is she okay?”

“She went missing an hour ago,” Cragen reported, hands in his coat pockets, “Her secretary said she got a strange call from a witness to meet somewhere in the city…”

“But the witness called right after asking if she could come by the office,” Liv finished, “the secretary said the first call must have been fake, but when she tried to call Y/N back…” Liv took a breath, and Nick knew he wouldn’t like what was about to come out of his partner’s mouth. “…A man answered the phone and said… He said…”

“He said ‘the bitch is busy’,” Cragen finished for her, eyebrows furrowed, “then hung up.”

Nick moved—unable to keep still as the white-hot rage pounded in his bloodstream. He had questions, accusations, fears that needed to be let out and addressed, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He slammed his hand on his desk, the sting barely registering in his brain.

“Nick, hey, Nick,” Olivia was suddenly next to him, her hand on his shoulder, steadying him, “We’re gonna find her, okay? Stay with us, we’re gonna find him…”

“We already got a few leads,” Fin spoke up, “Rollins is looking through the call log, trying to see who placed the call. The secretary is working with a detective to zero in on the address.”

“She doesn’t have it?” Nick asked, seething.

“She wrote it down and gave it to Y/N,” Olivia asked, “Nick, we’ve got uniforms patrolling the streets looking for her and—”

“—Oh,” Rollins sat up at her computer, eyes wide, “W-we got a hit on the number used to make the call…” She looked up, eyes darting from Nick, to Olivia, and back to Nick. “…It’s registered to Lucille Hemper…the mother of Andrew Hemper.”

Nick felt like he was about to black-out. Andrew Hemper was a violent misogynist who had attacked a handful of women and almost attacked you during interrogation. His trial was in progress, and as far as SVU knew, he had made bail and was on house arrest until his trial ended and the verdict was delivered. He was a non-issue; you had done some great legal work on his case, and the squad had provided more than enough evidence to convict him. But somehow he had skipped his tether and now…

Now he had you.

“I’m calling the judge now,” Cragen said, already power-walking to his office, “I want an APD out on Hemper immediately,” he ordered, and Rollins picked up the phone and started dialing, “Fin, Munch, I want you canvasing the area,” he turned and pointed to Olivia, “Stay with Amaro!”

Everything ached. When you blinked, it hurt. When you breathed, it hurt. When you hissed “you’re a weak, piece of garbage” at Hemper through your clenched, bloody teeth, it hurt. You were on the ground, lying on your side with your arms wrapped around yourself as Hemper stood above you. He had kicked and beat the shit out of you, but you knew him, you knew his type. If you showed any sign of weakness or fear, he’d win. And you weren’t going to let him win.

“You think this is all I got?” Hemper asked, breathing heavily as he paced in front of you. You could see speckles of your blood on his shoes, and you hoped he was leaving evidence all over the abandoned warehouse. You had pulled his hair and scratched his cheek pretty well in the struggle, and even if he killed you, you had his DNA under your fingernails. That thought made you feel a little better about the situation. “You think this is it?” He kicked you again, and you gasped as the air left your lungs. “No way, bitch,” he huffed, “no way this is it.”

You knew what he was implying, the threat underneath the threat, but you also knew his MO. He was all talk. “You…” Your voice was cracked, and you put a hand over your aching stomach, “you’re all out of juice…” You coughed. “You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in jail…”

“Nah,” he crouched down, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him, “I’m in the wind. And if you’re lucky, I might take you with me…” You could feel his fingers tighten on your face, and you knew there’d be bruises. “…or I might let you die here.”

“Wh… What is it that you want, exactly?” You asked, trying to buy time. “You already broke free from your ankle bracelet.”

“I want you to tell everyone that you’re not smarter than me,” he answered, glaring down at you, “That you didn’t beat me. I want you to tell everyone that I’m the best, and that you’re nothing but a stupid bitch.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead, you swallowed, making an effort to make your eyes bigger. “You—you still have my phone, right?” You asked, adding an extra tremor to your voice for the full affect. “Maybe—maybe we can make a call?”

Nick was sitting in the locker room, his head in his hands. Everything and everyone were moving way too slowly for him, but he knew complaining wouldn’t help anyone—especially not you. Your secretary had come in, crying her eyes out, and gave her official statement. As your fiancé, Nick wasn’t technically allowed to be a part of the investigation, but Olivia “happened” to leave the door open as she interviewed the secretary, and he was able to keep up with what was going on.

It was going into hour three of your abduction, and they were nowhere closer to finding you than they had been at the beginning. Lucille Hemper had admitted that her son had disconnected his ankle bracelet and stolen her phone. She even surrendered her home computer—which was full of internet searches for abandoned warehouses in the city, as well as your recent cases. Nick had punched the wall when he heard that. Hemper had been keeping tabs on you since his arrest; collecting your stats and reading up on your cases.

He’d been stalking you. How his case worked and counselor hadn’t spotted that was beyond Nick.

He took a breath, staring at his shoes through watery eyes. You meant everything to him; in all of his life, all of his mistakes and trials and errors in love, you were the one thing he was sure of. Nick knew, when he looked at you, held you, kissed you, that you were the one for him, and he was the one for you. And now you were in the clutches of this psychopath, and there was nothing he could do… you were his fiancée, he was going to be your husband, and he couldn’t protect you.

He was worthless.

“Nick,” Olivia came in, breathless, “Hemper’s on the phone; Cragen’s talking with him now.”

Nick jumped up and followed Olivia out and into Cragen’s office. Nick’s blood boiled when he heard Hemper’s voice, but he stayed silent.

“…And I want a car, full tank, 4-wheel drive,” Hemper was saying, completely unaware that he was on speaker phone. TARU was in the room, tracing the signal and recording it. “I’m taking this bitch with me,” he said, and Nick clenched his fists, “as soon as I get a private plane out of the city, you can have her back…” He chuckled darkly, and Nick wanted to punch another wall—at least until he could punch Hemper. “…when I’m all done with her.”

“We got a signal,” the TARU officer whispered, waving Nick and Olivia over, “He’s stagnant, here’s the address.” He printed it out and handed it to Olivia. Nick snatched the paper out of her hand and ran out of the room, Olivia at his heels.

“Liv, don’t—” he began.

“—I’m coming with you,” she said, shocking him into silence, “Let’s catch this son of a bitch.”

You were leaning on the wall now, still on the ground. Hemper was pacing back and forth, still blabbering on the phone to Cragen with his ridiculous demands. You figured they should have been able to trace the call by now, and you hoped someone was on the way soon. Hemper had tied your hands together with a zip tie, and they laid in your lap idly. You looked down at them, eyes locking onto the ring Nick had given you the day he’d proposed. You felt tears in the back of your throat as you thought of him, but you swallowed them down. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry in front of Hemper. Your face was hurting almost as much as your body was. Hemper had slapped you around a bit more before he made the call, trying to build his confidence up to talk to Cragen, and now you were starting to feel dizzy. Hemper’s voice was starting to sound far away as he ranted about what a dumb bitch you were and how smart he was, exactly like you told him to. The longer he talked, the stronger the trace. You smirked to yourself, satisfied in that small victory, and let yourself nod off to sleep.

You woke up to a loud bang.

Startled, you blinked yourself awake just in time to see Hemper hit the ground, your phone falling out of his hand and breaking on the concrete floor.

“Suspect is down!” Olivia was shouting. “Call a bus!”

Hemper was groaning, and you turned to watch him. He was crying, and you saw him clutch his chest.

“Relax,” Olivia growled, flipping him over and digging her knee into his back as she cuffed him, “It’s only a rubber bullet.”

You wanted to laugh, but you were too tired. Your head sagged down again, and your eyes closed. You just wanted to sleep, and you were going to, until you heard that voice…

“Are you alright, mi amor?”

You opened your eyes to see Nick. His dark brown eyes were wide and worried, and his hands were on your face. He was trembling.

“Liv—where’s that bus?” He called, glancing behind him to address his partner. “Hey, baby, you’re okay, alright? I’m here, you’re okay.” He said to you, his voice low and soft.

You smiled, tasting blood. “Hey,” you whispered back, “Guess what? I didn’t lose the ring.” You flexed your hand, and Nick made a strangled, distressed sound at the sight of your bound hands.

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, and both of you relaxed at that small gesture. "Good job, baby," he said into your hair, “Just stay with me, okay? Talk to me.”

“I love you,” you said, and you felt the tears in your eyes.

“I love you, too,” Nick said back, a strained smile blooming on his worried face, “Did he—are you—?”

You shook your head, increasing your dizziness. “No,” you said, answering his unasked question, “No, he didn’t. I’m fine.” You sighed as Nick held you to him, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m sorry it took so long, mi amor,” he whispered, his lips on your ears, “I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you said, eyes closed and butterflies fluttering again, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Later, you let Olivia and Fin take your statement in the hospital. Your boss insisted you stay overnight in case you had a concussion, and Nick stayed at your side the entire time, watching as the doctor checked you out and the nurses treated your wounds. All in all, you had a broken wrist, severe bruises to your abdomen, legs, and arms, and a multiple cuts and lacerations. Nick took notes—actual handwritten notes—on how to best help you heal, nodding and charming the hell out of the nurses, and when they all left, he tucked you into your bed.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, amor? Anything you need?” He asked, voice low. You were tired, and he knew it.

“Can you hold me?” You asked back.

Nick crawled into the hospital bed with you, sitting behind you and wrapping his arms around you. He kissed the top of your head, and you relaxed under his touch. “I’ll hold you every day,” he promised, “for the rest of my life.” He reached down and held your hand, a finger gently brushing against your ring. “For the rest of our lives.”

You looked back up at him, and you saw the depth of his love and affection for you in his warm eyes. You felt those butterflies start flying around again, and you knew you were safe and loved and cherished with Nick, and that you always would be. “Nick?”

“Mm?”

“I found my dress,” you informed him, heart pounding at the sight of Nick’s angelic smile, “I think you’re gonna like it.”

Nick kissed your head again, making you giggle. “Baby, you could wear a shower curtain, and I’d be happy.” He nuzzled into your hair. “As long as you’re safe. As long as you’re with me.”

“You’ll always keep me safe,” you took his hand and kissed his knuckle, lips lingering on the bruise he got from punching the wall, “Love you, Nick.”

“I love you, too,” he said, arms wrapped around you tight, kissing the side of your head, “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“I’ll be here every morning.”

You closed your eyes, letting the sound of Nick’s breathing, the feel of him behind you—sturdy and warm, and the butterflies in your stomach lull you to sleep.

*******************************************************************************************

So... What did you think? Feedback and reblogs are always welcome and appreciated! Thank you for reading!

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[akvtsuki-ari]

Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, dom!spence (not rlly but hes the one in more control)

Length: 3.2k 

Authors Note: idk why but early 2000′s emo music screams spence to me and I wrote this from 2am-6am listening to this song, give it a listen while you read if you like. and yes the title is a p!atd song. 

"Fuck,"

Heat, throbbing heat, with scorching skin to skin contact

Desperation was apparent, with only your waist exposed, his finger tips drawing circles into your back, nails dragging on skin with a rushed sense of excitement.

‘Mf, aggressive much?" You groan out, Reid's smiles into your neck, his hands pinning yours above your head

"Long day," he replies, teeth grazing the skin of your neck, he lets his tongue run over the skin to smooth it out before sucking soft hickies into it, marks made in small doses all across it, a reminder. his tongue is warm and inviting, but his bite is vulgar.

his other hand is firm on your waist, but he won't let you touch him, he's focused on on you, all his energy making you drown in lust. the sensation of his skin on yours sends your nerves into overdrive, oh how easy it is to break you.

"Wanna touch you," you moan. No hesitation is present in his voice.

"Why should I let you," he challenges you, leaving you at a loss for words. He sinks his mouth onto a sensitive area of your neck and you whine eagerly, he drops your hands.

Your touch is unsure, running fingers through his hair, you tug making him look at you.

He kisses you, and the wait to deepen is long, achingly. Purposeful. Your face is flushed with embarrassment, his every move decisive and teasing, his lips are smooth, warm. They feel so full, and his kiss makes you feel so lost, so light. His tongue runs against your bottom lip, inciting you to kiss back , but he pulls away before you can.

"You know Y/N," he starts, you whimper in protest and he smiles again.

"All day I've been thinking about the way you'd look bent over the desk in Hotchs office," he adds, kissing your neck asfrwe he does. You melt into his touch, eager to let him finish.

"Would you close the blinds, Y/N," he speaks as he trails down your neck

"Or, does the thought of our co-workers watching you get you off?," he asks, unbuttoning your blouse, he makes eye contact, face to face.

"You don't take me as much of an exhibitionist, Y/N," he adds, saying your name with emphasis,

"But I think," a soft sound of a clasp opening fills the room, "there's a part of you that likes the idea of being seen," his hand cups your breast, his thumb running over your nipples making you let out a soft ah

"Or at the very least," a flick, and a whimper, his other hand lays at the base of your neck "at the very least, you like the idea of being, well - a nymph of sorts," his hand runs up to side of your face, a thumb placed on your lips.

"Y/N, appease me," he pushes his thumb into your mouth and you suck instinctively, exactly what he was looking for

"You like this being a dirty secret to some extent sure," the hand on your breast slips to your skirt, tugging its waist band. You arch your back to take it off "But you can't help but want to tell someone," his hands quick to feel you, your throb under his fingertips "you can't help but wanna tell someone, just how good I make you feel,"  soft circles into your clit make you cry out in

He takes his other hand from your neck, placing the fingers covered in arousal to touch your lips instead, pushing them into your mouth. his elbow rests on your chest as he backs you up. His other hand is at your waist again

"So Y/N," he begins, the hand on your waist tugs on your panties, you slip them off, but he stops you from taking them off all the way. Slowly he spreads you apart, the rush of air fluttering you. Delicately his fingers smooth against your clit, crouching to be at level to eat you our, he looks up

"I guess my question to you would have to be," he kisses your inner thigh, marking them. you run your fingers through his hair, opening your legs allowing him access. His tongue lays on your clit before he laps at it, soft flat motions, at first slow. His hands hold your thighs back, palms digging into your hips. Circling his tongue around before sucking you into his mouth again, he pulls off

"How good do I make you feel Y/N," he slips two fingers into you, allowing you to adjust before he moves. He pushes up against your g-spot. he doesn't move too fast yet, still eating you out. you're falling apart, moaning and whining.

"Good enough to ruin your reputation?," he asks, picking up pace as he finger fucks you. his speed on your clit picks up to, tongue stroking your clit with a speed you're unadjusted to. you can't take much more, and you cum again surprised at how long you've lasted. he licks you clean, before he stands back up to kiss you, your breath heaving. And ragged, he places his lips on yours and you taste yourself on him.

Dropping to your knees you unbuckle his pants, his cock is watm your palm. He doesn't falter even though you know he wants to. You take him in your mouth, sucking on the tip of it before picking up pace. He didn't wanna do the work just yet

"Not to be cocky Y/N," you feel his cock throb in his mouth as he tangles his fingers in your hair "But being inside you is the privilege only I have,"

He starts moving on his own, hitting the back of your throat with little to no thought at all, tears form in your eyes

"I'm the only one who gets to watch you fall apart," there's a sense of apathy in his tone, as precum fills your throat. He pulls you off, and you stand again, as he turns you to the wall,

"And to be honest with you Y/N," he whispers in your ear, his breath is warm under your skin as all the nerves in your body shiver.

"The thing that gets me off the most, is as simple as watching you do it," he positions himself and fills you slow. You moan loud. The second he moves you'll break, your mind will be clouded with nothing but pure and unadulterated lust.

"You know what really fucking gets me off Y/N," he hisses. He pulls back out and slams into you again, snapping his hips against yours in a quick movement. You could collapse from the pressure, as he empties you and fills you all in the same second. The feeling leaves you speechless, without a though in your head

"It," in "really," out "gets me off" in "to fuck you," out "till you" in "can't think" out "straight.

He pounds into you, holding your hands behind your back, slowing down to place his fingers on your clit and pick back up. You cum quickly again, ruined completely. Spencer doesn't rest, his  bringing you to brink again in only a few minutes. You've lost count.

Finally, with what feels like mercy, he cums in you, groaning a string of curses before pulling out.

You turn to him resting your back on the wall and smile widely, kissing him softly. He smiles into if. He nuzzles into your neck and sighs

"Did you have fun?," he asks. You can't help but laugh,"

"I came 3 times so I'm gonna go with yes," you say. He pouts

"You could go farther," he mumbles. You smack him playfully.

"Save it till we're back home and off this case and your can go at it baby," you reply. He grins and kisses you again.

"Yes! Thank you," he replies, you shake your head kissing him

"You're ridiculous, now move so I can clean up."

-

The next day the two of you walk back into the local pd office, neither of you out of ordinary. Spencer buys you coffee and greets you with a hug when you finally come in. But the whole team seems to be acting strange

"Is it just me or is everyone being really weird today?," you ask in the office, as the team gets quiet. You look at Hotch who has a blank expression, as does JJ and Rossi. Prentiss looks away entirely as Derek laughs.

"Care to inform us?." You asks. Not a word,

"Cmon guys," Spencer adds. You nod.

"Oh nothing pretty boy, you've just for quite the mouth on you," Derek remarks. The whole team seems to hold back laughter as he walks off.

"What's that supposed to mean?," Spencer asks. You have unfortunately caught on, you immediately blush beet red and put your face in your hands.

Well," Rossi starts "Did you um, have fun Y/N," he asks. The whole team holds back a laugh again.

Now it was Spencer's turn to realize. Immediately he his face in whatever he could find.

"Oh no," he whines. Hotch chuckles.

"Me and JJ are gonna go check out the M.E.s office, Rossi and Prentiss go check out the new crime scene. I need you two to check out the files on the latest victim, but please, behave.," he adds. Rossi laughs as does JJ as everyone heads off.

The two of you glance at eachother before blushing and laughing.

"I'm so embarrassed I'm at a loss for what to say," you remark. Spencer laughs

"Agreed, lets just focus on the case," he says. You nod vigorously.

"Good plan," you agree.

The plane ride home is gonna be a mess. 

--

taglist ; @cynbx @jhope-jkill

[onlywhenitsraininglove-blog]

The Carnage Chapter One

Note: Adult Content, Adult Language and Graphic Violence is used in this story. The adult content is not is NOT pornographic nor will it ever be. Adult language is what it is and the violence is graphic with some detail. Reader beware. If you are underage you should not read these stories!

These are Dark stories, meaning that the hero does not always win. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment what you like about it and don’t like about it, but please be respectful. Just saying you don’t like it or like it, does not help a writer. 

These will be posted under the title and chapter and by chapter since some of these will be very long stories having many chapters. 

These are a work of fiction and copywrite by the writer Michael Metzger Please do not copy but feel free to share by keep my name in each chapter which will be located at the bottom of each chapter. Thank you!

One:

True terror penetrates deep into the soul and portions out its depth of trepidation and anxiety in swells of apprehension and uncertainty. It berates the soul till it surrenders to the inevitable conclusion of its demise and true terror is what Tommy thrived on. It wasn’t sex or the overwhelming need to assert absolute control that drove him to murder but their absolute terror of him, of what he would do next. He fucked and tortured every single person he killed, not because the blood was a turn on, but their fear moved him deeply.

Tommy murdered his first person when he was only thirteen years old. It had been a messy kill, but he had learned much from it. It had been a homeless drunk that he had found sleeping in an old abandoned shamble of a building in Detroit, Michigan. The old drunk had put up a good fight at first, but eventually the razor sharp edge of the knife had started to have an effect, weakening him till he dropped unable to defend himself any further.

When the homeless man finally fell to the hard concrete, his knee’s buckling with pops and creaks of age, Tommy held out his small knife to his victim.

“Small cuts muthafucka,” He had said calmly to his victim. “It weakens you quickly, but doesn’t kill you.”

The homeless man, wondering what he had done to enrage this young man so much that he wanted him dead, looked up into the eyes of a devil. His fear seized him, oozing out his brown, alcohol blood shot eyes and saw a monster, but with the sweet innocent smile of a kid. That was when the torture started and he started screaming. He hadn’t even realized he was screaming until the smiling boy told him that no one was going to hear him.

With all the strength he could muster he spoke a single word, “Why?”

“Why?” The boy replied innocently, “Why will no one hear you, or why am I doing this to you?”

The boy had moved and was now lying directly on the man, seeing his face so close to his caused his breath to catch in his already tortured lungs.

“The answer is simple for both questions. The first being that you did this to yourself because you wanted to be so far away from everything else that now, your screams cannot be heard by anyone outside this building. Sorry, ole chap, but its a matter of opportunity. For the second question, well, why not?” Tommy smiled at him.

Then there was more screaming. Tommy took his time with his first victim. He wanted to relish this moment and remember it forever. He liked it when the guy screamed, it excited him immensely. So much so, that he orgasm’d in his pants three times.

When Tommy knew the guy could take no more, he tied a rope around his neck and hung him from a large concrete frame work in the center of the building. He masturbated as the guy kicked and bounced till his neck snapped and Tommy orgasm’d again. It had been a wonderful first experience for him, but he was covered in blood and the cops would be able to read this crime scene like the cover of a match book, only in the end, all of their conclusions were wrong.

The news media had called it a brutal murder and the police chief had eventually asked for the public’s help in apprehending the murderer or murderers. They suspected the killer was an older male, who had military training in hand to hand combat, was exceptional with a knife and who would be big enough to overwhelm the victim with ease. Tommy had got away with it. He was in the clear. After all, he was only thirteen and not old enough to have military experience.

As he sat watching the news again for word of his latest kill and reminiscing about that first time twelve and a half years ago when a new idea entered his mind. It wasn’t the news caster that was talking currently, but rather the one from that long ago time in his head. He had said something interesting. Why had Tommy not thought of this before? The news caster had said that the community was in fear that a brutal murderer was out walking their streets right now and no one knew who it was.

“The community was in fear,” He spoke it out loud, savoring the taste it produced in his mouth as if he were actually sitting at a fine dining restaurant right now having a nice Beef Wellington and making his mouth water. His penis was growing hard with excitement too and that was always a good indicator he was onto something.

He had heard those words before in other news casts, but this time it harmonized in him the way a good Beef Wellington would. He let the flavor of the idea transcend his conscience mind and take him to where it wanted to go. Then he got it. In all the thirteen years he had been killing people, he had never earned a name.

To date, he had killed twenty two people and the cops had never come close to discovering who actually killed them. But because he didn’t only kill in one place and in fact always traveled for his kills, no one actually knew there was a serial killer on the loose. The media had never given him a name because they had always considered the event to be a single event. He had never killed in the same place twice.

The truth was Tommy didn’t want to be caught. He liked killing and wanted to continue for many more years. Those who communicated with police or media were asking to get caught and that wasn’t for Tommy. The B.T.K. killer could have died of old age without ever having been arrested if he hadn’t written notes on cereal boxes to the cops and letters to the media outlets. It was a fool’s path.

But a name would imply more fear. His victims would know who was killing them and why. Tommy not only wanted, but needed a name and that would mean some changes. He needed an idea that he carried around with him and one that would let the cops and media know he was out there. It would certainly make the killing more interesting. But what would he do?

The realm of possibilities was immense. He had almost already killed at least one in every category he could think of. Children were always good because they produced the most fear for him and that was a requirement. But only focusing on children was not just dumb, it was out right asking to get caught. Go kill a bunch of kids as see how fast the law would invest in your capture! It would only take one child getting killed to cause this as he had seen on the two children he had killed already and those had been thousands of miles apart and completely different in the methods they died.

What was funny was that the murder he committed of Ethan Creon, a twelve year old, good looking boy had been pinned on another child killer who took over killing children in that county after Tommy’s own was broadcast all over the media. His focus had been on boys, namely blond haired boys who were good looking kids. The idiot should have considered that before he took over on the murderous spree that lasted almost six months before he got caught.

The girl he killed remained unsolved and the cops had actually given up on trying to find new clues. But when Tommy committed the murder of a child, he was sure to leave nothing. Not a part of his flesh touched that child and if it had, their bodies would never have been found. It would have negated any pleasure for him due to the high risk of killing children. He loved the fear they produced, but not the risk.

So Tommy eliminated children off the list quickly. The elderly followed soon after since they hardly ever produced enough fear to even stimulate him. The elderly had already lived a full life and, well, in Tommy’s mind, just gave up. They accepted their eventual deaths and died much quicker then he wanted. So they too could be removed from his list.

Those with sever mental retardation were just out of the picture entirely. They were unaware of the eventuality of death and while he had never killed on from this group, he also had no desire too. The mentally ill was always fun. Some of them were real fighters and held onto life as long as possible, but there was an issue with them too.

First, they above all other groups required additional research. The reason for this was clear. Some mentally ill people actually wanted to die and one such victim had actually thanked him for saving the poor sucker from having to do it himself. Tommy had never repeated that mistake. Even if it meant breaking into a counseling office to look at his possible victims records to make sure they were not suicidal. It had been one if his biggest disappointments to date because the guy seemed to be vivacious and high spirited in his every day life.

The second issue is that society as a whole did not consider the mentally ill to be a category. Hell, not even the cops did. It was like they all just missed that huge category completely. Tommy didn’t want to have to do so much research either. That took time and trips to the victims city or town and Tommy would not focus on his local area. It was the golden rule for him. Never kill in the city, town or county you live in or the neighboring counties. You leave space between you and your kill.

Like a car, you allow yourself cushion around the other cars on the road. Cops were a lot less likely to discover who you were if you never lived in that state or even county. If you were smart enough to not leave DNA, then you wouldn’t have to worry about the CODIS hits either. It would never be found in the system. Even with touch DNA, if your skin didn’t touch them you wouldn’t leave those trace amounts and it had been apparent to Tommy early on that this would eventually become the case.

What Tommy needed was something that would set him apart from anyone else. A focus no one else had and with all the murderers there had ever been in the world there wasn’t much left that would be considered unique.

Tommy had been sitting at his desk in front of his laptop watching the news from Butler County  Missouri where is last victim apparently still lay in a heavily wooded area off county road four twenty five. Tommy had found a small, old dirt track that went up the hill to an old mine. He had heard of people dumping bodies in those but he would never to that unless it was someone he didn’t want found.

He always monitored the news from the local communities where he committed his murders. It did a lot for him mentally. He liked hearing the first reports because it was always there that the words used to describe his brutality were the best. If a media outlet was exceptionally explicit and palpable in those choices it had the effect of putting a smile on his face and a bounce in his step.

As he sat there considering his options a new bleep occurred on the news papers website. It was a video. He clicked the play icon on the screen and put it to full screen view. At the bottom of the video was a red banner that said “Special Report” in bright gold letters. The screen flashed to a man wearing a dark blue suite with a deep melodic voice.

“Good afternoon, I am Miles Vallen with breaking news coming out of the Rolling Hills Mine area. The body of an unknown male has been discovered off the old mine road and had apparently been discovered by a couple of kids who were reported to have been walking up the road toward the mine. We have Millie Farr live on scene.”

The image changed to that of an older woman with straight black hair running past her shoulders and wearing a blue top. Her hair was starting to gray at the fringes and she looked slightly rushed. Tommy never could figure out why in such a small community where the nearest competing reporter was at least fifty miles away, they felt the need to rush things, but he was also glad they did. It was these rush jobs where he got the best descriptions. He listened.

“That’s right Miles. The body of a male was discovered about twenty minutes ago by Butler County Sheriff Deputy,” she paused to look at her note pad, “Deputy Jim Carneada who was first to arrive on scene. The Deputy had this to say.”

The image changed again to a tall slender young man, Tommy would guess was in his early twenties, with very short blond hair, blue eyes and a semi hawkish nose. He was clean shaven and the look on his face was priceless. He looked disturbed and disgusted, which pleased Tommy greatly.

“Yes we found the body of an unknown male just off the path to the mine.” The deputy was saying.

“Is there anything you can tell us Deputy? What kind of shape was the body in or hold old the victim is?”

“I can tell you its bad.” He swallowed hard and pursed his lips obviously reliving the nightmare scene. “Don’t know anything else, once I saw the scene I just backed out and ran to my car to call it in and get the tape to close it off.”

“Have you seen things like this before?” The reporter asked sounding concerned about how well the deputy was doing with this.

“I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies before, especially in Afghanistan, but I ain’t never seen anything like that. It’s bad.”

“Can you describe the scene to us deputy?”

He turned to look at her as if he was seeing her for the very first time.

“Why the hell would I do that? No, anyone who doesn’t need to see this doesn’t need it described in detail to them,” The deputy snapped. This excited Tommy even more.

“Can you tell us who the detective in charge is?” The female reporter asked, doing her best to sound concerned and interested in the facts.

“Do you see any detectives around here lady?” The deputy walked off in complete disgust.

The camera switched back to Miles in the studio.

“He seemed a little upset!” Miles suggested to the audience.

“Well from what I have been able to gather is that the crime scene was savagely vicious and it has obviously bothered this young deputy greatly.” Millie said unperturbed.

What she did was give back the attitude in order to save her reputation with not only her public but also other possible law enforcement officers who ever thought she would just take a criticism like that without rebuke. Tommy knew it was done specifically to help prevent it from happening again.

He loved the word she used too, “Savagely Vicious!” It just had a peculiar sound in his ears and a taste on his tongue that was sweet and wonderful. He liked this reporter. He thought it would be wonderful to pay her a visit. But he knew he would not.

“It sounds like a gruesome scene,” Miles said thoughtfully.

“The reaction of the deputy really brings it...” Millie turned as some woman in the background started to scream.

“My boy! That’s my boy!” The elderly woman screamed as other people gathered to take hold of her.

The camera started moving forward and focusing on the poor woman’s grief stricken face. Tears glistened in the daylight and she collapsed into arms that were holding her. After the camera got the episode on live television the camera panned back to Millie.

“It appears Miles, that one of the victims family had arrived...”

Tommy lost all recognition of the news broadcast. “Family!” He turned the word over in his mind several times, not realizing he was speaking out loud.

“Family!” A frown started to appear. The lines in his facial features deepened as the frown turned into a smile. “No one had done families before!” He had never heard of a serial killer whose primary focus was more then one person at a time. That was usually what they referred too as spree killers now. But families! It was the best of all killing! And the fear it would cause! Tommy came in his jeans.

copywrite Michael Metzger 2019

[mara-lune]

Ch. 1 Welcome to Lake City

Smith walked through the crowded, noisy streets of Lake City, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized gray hoodie. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun, out of her face, as it always was. Despite the smoggy, gray weather, she wore her sunglasses and a pair of large headphones. This, plus her big, black backpack was typically her outfit of choice. She didn’t like making eye contact, or even worse, having people talk to her. Most people, anyway.

It was the end of the work day, and people buzzed past her, in their own worlds that barely extended beyond their own faces. Most were eager to get home from work, others were eager to get to their vices. A wretched few of them were looking for someone to chat up, usually with a sales pitch. The downtown plaza Smith waded through was what she considered “old-modern”. Stores, businesses, and restaurants lined the street level floors of the old buildings the city was founded on. There was always something under construction, but not always in a progressive way. The trend for the past twenty years or so was to make anything new as bright and sleek as possible, giving the urban city the ‘modern’ part of the ‘old-modern’ style, even though that modern feel was already a couple of decades old.

Lake City was also noisy. And not just the noise of traffic, construction, and people. Everywhere you looked was filled with lights, advertisements, and sometimes the bizarre art installation. The city had pumped some money into trying to make the walking streets more cultured and friendly, without really doing much else to help the area. This meant that you would often see panhandlers getting ignored underneath a giant neon light installation instructing passersby to love one another.

Smith slowed down and took a long gaze up at a two story billboard screen as it switched to an ad for SugarBaby Jean Co. The model in the ad smiled brightly behind a pair of tinted glasses, and a cheesy slogan declared this “The Summer for Sugar, Baby”, even though it was already fall. After a few seconds, the ad switched to an animated image of a fantasy city in a torrential storm, promoting the latest blockbuster movie, and Smith picked up her pace again. She turned the corner and finally made her way to the only place in town she actually liked, a tea shop called Lake and Leaf. Inside was white, bright, and quaint, but still warm and friendly. She took off her backpack as she made her way to her regular spot - the last stool at the end of the long counter. She pulled her tablet out of her backpack, and hung her bag on the hook under the counter at her knees. She took off her sunglasses, but kept her eyes straight on her screen in front of her.

“Hey, Smith. Reading more police reports?” asked a friendly voice from behind the counter. It was Rolly, one of the shop owners, and a friend of hers from when they were kids. He was built like a grizzly with the temperament of a golden retriever, and the tea shop was his passion. “The usual?” he asked, knowing that she wouldn’t look up until she was satisfied with her scrolling. Smith nodded, almost imperceivably. He shuffled off to his tea tins that lined the wall and began making her the usual cup.

Smith scanned the headlines: robberies, shootings, muggings - the usual, daily crime in their metropolitan city. She switched her app to a map of the city and pinned the places of the crimes. She added notes from the reports - time of day, victims, weapons - anything she could. Then she started reading the local news sites. Some of the news reported on the crimes and offered vague details, of which she also noted. Nothing was too insignificant.

Smith finally set down her tablet and looked up. She glanced around the shop. It was slightly busy. Most people liked going to bars around this time, but Lake and Leaf had its usual crowd. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her wallet. She pulled out a five dollar bill, and then stashed her wallet away as she saw Rolly head toward her with a cup of tea.

“Earl gray with milk, and a scone. I thought I’d try something a little different for you this time. The tea has lavender in it.”

Smith pulled off her headphones and discreetly set the money under the saucer as she picked up the cup and took a sip. “Oh damn, that’s good.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Nah, just this. What’s new around here?”

Rolly leaned on the counter. “You’ll never guess who came in here the other day.”

“Who?”

“That model you like, Ellis Jones.”

Smith nearly spit her tea. “No fucking way! Did you talk to her? What’s she like?”

Rolly chuckled. “I didn’t see her, Nate did. He said she asked for coffee - I guess she didn’t realize we don’t serve that here.”

“So what did she do? Did she get something else?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t here!”

“Well, why didn’t you ask Nate? Is he here? Let me talk to him.”

“No, it’s his day off.”

Smith sat back in her stool, daydreaming. “Man, she’d be perfect…”

Rolly tilted his head at Smith. “Perfect for what?”

Smith sighed. “Well… I don’t know. I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“What?”

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Smith Kelley, we’ve been best friends since we were kids! We went to the prom together! We practiced kissing on each other. Tell me, girl!” Smith reached over the counter and slapped Rolly several times on the shoulder.

“Fine! You know how I like to read police reports and stuff?”

“Nooooo.”

“Shut up. Well, I was thinking. The cops around here… could maybe use my help.”

Rolly chuckled. “Okay.”

“I just keep thinking… I could do a better job.”

Rolly scoffed. “You? You’re a shrimpy little weakling who hates running.”

“Well not me-me, but I still think I could do something about it.”

“You mean you want to be a cop? I don’t know how you’re going to do that, being… well, all those things I just said.”

“I know this city inside and out. There are patterns and certain people who keep doing things and getting away with it.” She showed Rolly her tablet with the map. “See, there was a robbery six blocks from here a month ago.”

“But you’re a shrimpy…”

She swiped to another view of the map. “And then two nights later, another one a block away from that.”

“Little weakling…”

“And it’s more than just robberies. I mean, they were both robberies, but they were in and out of there so fast.”

“Who hates running…”

Smith put down her tablet and gave Rolly a look.

“I’m sorry, babe! I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be chasing bad guys. The police are decent. I mean, sure, they’re not perfect, but they’re good enough.”

“They’re not good enough when there’s still so much crime in this city!”

“But really, what were you thinking of doing? And what does Ellis Jones have to do with it?”

Smith paused for a second. “Okay, can I let you in on a little secret?”

Rolly sighed. “I don’t know. Your ideas are kind of out there. A lot of people think you’re just a conspiracy theorist.”

Smith lowered her voice and leaned in. She picked up her tablet and changed some settings on the map that showed an overlay of sewers, passages, and tunnels. “Whenever I freelance for the city government, I get a lot of access that I probably shouldn’t have. I know the city’s infrastructure - it hasn’t changed in the past ten years, and any time anyone tries to change it, it takes months, if not years of government bureaucracy to actually take effect. I know how to move around quickly, without getting caught.”

“Have you ever actually seen these tunnels and passages yourself?” Rolly asked.

“No, but I’ve seen big proposals get shot down because it’d be too expensive to build around them. And they don’t want to remove them or fill them in, because that would require a lot of inspections and restructuring. Redoing the underground infrastructure under one city block would affect, like, the next dozen around it.” She pointed to a city block on the map. “Remember when the old Elysian Hotel wanted to update and basically rebuild the whole building? Lake City put it on the ballot to make it look like they were trying their best to make it happen, but even when it passed, they decided to slap a historic landmark status on it so they wouldn’t have to bother with it.”

Rolly furrowed his eyebrows with a small realization. “Is that why they did that? It is a pretty neat, old building.”

“But have you also noticed that the tallest buildings in this city are only thirty stories?”

“Yeah, they passed laws to not build any higher than that so as to not obstruct the view.”

“The view of what?”

Rolly shrugged. “You know, the city. It’s kind of nice to look at.”

“But why not improve the city with taller, more impressive buildings?” Smith stared up at Rolly with a bit of a crazy glint in her eyes.

The two froze in an awkward standoff until Rolly finally broke the silence. “Babe, what is your point?”

“My point is that I could track the criminals. They show patterns. I’m sure some of them are even using some of these passages. Just imagine beating them at their own game. Following them, or even getting ahead of them. As, like… a superhero would.”

“A superhero!” Rolly shrieked.

“Keep your voice down, butthead!”

“A superhero!” he quietly shrieked. “Smith, you’re smart, but you’re also the clumsiest person I know. There’s no way you’d ever be able to do that, much less as a superhero.”

Smith looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Not me, but someone like Ellis Jones could. Do you see the workout routine videos she posts on her Lookit? She can move.”

“Mm-hmm, you sure do like that.”

“Shut up.” She picked up her cup and finished off the tea. The little bell above the door jungled, and they both looked over to see a couple walk in and sit down around the corner at the other end of the counter.

Rolly stood up straight. “Mkay, girl. Well, you find Ellis Jones and train her to be a superhero. Let me know how that goes.” He moved the saucer on the counter, and slid the money she placed there back to her. “You’ll need this to get your superhero project started.” He turned to the couple and made his way down the counter.

Smith placed the money back onto the saucer and set her empty cup on top. She nibbled at the scone as she opened up her tablet and buried her face in the screen again. The tea shop buzzed with light conversations, clinking dishes, and tea tins being opened and closed. Smith put her headphones back on and drowned out the world around her. She didn’t hear the shop bell jingle again, and the excitement that filled the air when Ellis Jones walked in.

The statuesque model was as exquisite as they come. She had smooth, caramel skin, and her short, fiery orange hair was perfectly coiffed. Ellis’ long, graceful figure practically floated into the shop as her delicate dress fluttered around her. A couple of teenage girls in the shop approached her and asked for a selfie, to which Ellis happily agreed. After a couple of shots with a couple of phones, the girls thanked her and excitedly went back to their table, eagerly sharing their pictures on their Lookit accounts. Ellis went to the counter and sat at the corner, directly down from a still oblivious Smith.

Rolly put on his usual, friendly customer service smile, despite the fact that in his head, he was screaming his face off. “Hi there! Welcome to Lake and Leaf. I’m Rolly. What can I get you, love?”

Ellis scanned the shelves of tea tins that lined the long, side wall. “Um, I’m not much of a tea drinker.” Down the counter, Smith absent-mindedly picked up the empty tea cup that was still in front of her. She paused when she realized there was only a small drop left, but still tipped it up as far as she could to get the last bit. Ellis pointed at her. “I’ll have that. Whatever it is, it must be good.”

Rolly winked at her. “You got it!” He turned from the model, and squealed quietly as he bounced his way back over to Smith. “Um, excuse me, dear, what was it you ordered again?” he said in a loud, obvious voice.

Smith looked up at Rolly and gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

Rolly glanced down at Ellis. “Can you tell me which tea you had?”

Smith pulled her headphones off. “What?”

Rolly sighed heavily. “Which tea was that?”

Smith glared angrily at him. “You made it!”

“But maybe you can remind me what you had. That young lady down there would like to know what tea you had.”

Smith turned her glare down the counter. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw one of the most famous faces in the country smiling at her.

“Um. The usual?”

“Oh my god, ” he muttered, rubbing his hand into his forehead. He picked up the cup and saucer. “Oh yeah, this was an earl grey with milk and lavender.” He winked at Ellis again. Ellis smiled back at them. Rolly stuffed the cash back into Smith’s hand while she was distracted. He took the empty dishes and walked to the back kitchen, still smiling. “I’ll get that for you right away!”

“Sounds great!” Ellis grinned at Smith. “He’s really sweet.”

Smith tried her best to regain her composure. “Yeah. He’s an old friend of mine.” She realized she was holding the money and put it in her pocket. “He doesn’t let me pay for anything here.”

“I actually came in here a few days ago and I tried to order coffee. The guy who was here at the time was not as sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s Nate. He’s pretty much the opposite of Rolly,” she chuckled, awkwardly. “So do you, um, come here often?” Smith winced as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

“No, this is just my second time. I kind of felt bad after that first encounter, so I thought I’d try something different this time.”

“Yeah! You should!”

Ellis laughed. “Yeah, I will.”

Smith cautiously got up out of her seat. “Do you, um, mind if I sit closer to you? Join you? Do you mind if I join you?”

Ellis gestured at the empty stool next to her. “Please.”

Smith started to move closer, but then quickly turned back and gathered her things. Her arms full, she sat down on the edge of the stool next to Ellis. “Hi. I’m Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Smith.”

“No, it’s just Smith. Well, Smith Kelley.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Nice to meet you, Kelley.”

“No, Smith is my first name.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, it happens to me all the time.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Smith. I’m Ellis.” Ellis extended her hand and Smith shook it just a little too enthusiastically, dropping her headphones on the floor.

“Yeah, I know! You’re really cool. I mean…”

Ellis laughed. “Um, thank you.”

“Sorry,” Smith groaned. She put her tablet and sunglasses on the counter and reached down for her headphones. Her stool tipped out from behind her, and clattered loudly on the floor. “Shit, sorry. I mean, shoot. I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“Sorry.” Smith scrambled under the counter in search of a hook to hang her backpack on, and took a moment to silently berate herself for her awkwardness.

Ellis leaned over and looked at Smith’s tablet on the counter. It was open to the police reports. “Are you a cop?”

Smith stood up quickly, holding her headphones and the stool that had fallen, with a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look. “No.” Ellis looked at Smith’s reddening face. “I just like to read police reports. That’s kind of weird, sorry. A lot of people think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Really?” Smith was still awkwardly standing with her hands full, and her messy bun had become even messier.

Ellis reached for the tablet. “May I?” Smith nodded. Ellis started to scroll through the police reports, her brow furrowing. “This isn’t even half of what happens in this city.”

Smith finally put down the chair and sat down next to Ellis. “I know! The police--” she lowered her voice. “The police are basically useless.” She set her headphones on the counter and reached over and swiped the tablet to the map. “I’ve been tracking the crime in this neighborhood alone, and it’s pathetic how little actual policing goes on.”

“You’re telling me. My cousin was killed a few years ago, and the police couldn’t figure it out, so they gave up the case.”

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry.”

"They said it was a random, unprovoked attack, and he was an unfortunate casualty. They won't reopen the case, and the worst part is, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Smith hesitated as she read Ellis’ devastated face, scanning the reports.

“Um, listen,” Smith finally said, taking the tablet from Ellis. “I’m sorry that I even brought it up. You just wanted to have a nice, relaxing cup of tea, and I had to ruin your afternoon with all this talk about crime.”

“It’s okay,” Ellis said, with genuine gentleness.

“No, it’s not. I’m just Captain Bring-Down over here. I’ll let you get back to your tea,” she said, looking around for Rolly. “Which still isn’t here. Why did he even go to the back to make it? All the teas are out here.”

Just at that moment, Rolly came around from the back with a hot cup of tea with a sprig of lavender placed across the top. “Here you are! So sorry about the wait!”

Ellis smiled at Rolly. “Wow, thank you so much! It’s beautiful!”

“How come I didn’t get a flower?”

“Because I didn't want to have to go all the way upstairs to get you one,” Rolly playfully snipped back at her.

Ellis chuckled and removed the sprig from the cup and handed it to Smith. “Here you go.” Smith took the lavender and blushed. Ellis took a sip of the tea. “Hm, not bad!”

“See, who needs coffee?" Rolly beamed.

“Better than what I had last time. My assistant wanted to try this place, but I didn’t know what to get, so I just ordered the ‘Special-Tea’ that was on the menu.”

“The one that was basically all anise? Oh girl,” Rolly sucked through his teeth. “I tried that one. It was not good. My partner likes to come up with new brew combinations. Usually they're good, but that one was not. Can I get you anything else, Miss Jones?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

He turned to Smith. “How about you?”

Smith flushed. “No, you’ve gotten me plenty.” She looked down at the lavender in her hand. “Plenty…”

Rolly smirked. “Hm, I bet I can think of one more thing I can get you.” He turned to Ellis. “Miss Jones, my stupid friend here really likes you. Been a huge fan of yours for a long time.” Ellis chuckled and Smith turned even redder. “Of course, you are more than welcome to say ‘hell no, fuck off, creep,’ but what do you think about maybe meeting back here with Smith another time for more than just tea?”

Ellis raised her eyebrows behind her cup. “More than just tea? What else do you have back there?”

“Pastries and gayness.”

Ellis finished her tea. “Well, I’m not that big into pastries, but I like the rest of that idea.” She smiled at Smith, who had somehow gone from bright red to completely white. She turned back to Rolly and reached for her handbag. “How much do I owe you?”

“No no, let me!” Smith managed to stammer out.

“But you said you aren’t allowed to pay for anything here.”

“She’s not.” Rolly turned to Ellis. “Four eighty five, please, dear.”

Ellis reached into her handbag and pulled out her credit card. Rolly presented a card reader for her, and she settled her transaction. She turned to Smith. “I guess I’ll see you here…?”

“Tomorrow! If that’s okay with you. After work? I get off at five.” She set the lavender down on the counter and quickly gathered up her belongings and stuffed them into her backpack.

“Perfect! It was nice meeting you both.” Ellis got up from the counter and left the shop.

Rolly picked up the empty teacup from the counter. “You’re welcome,” he tossed at her over his shoulder as he headed to the back.

Smith reached deep into her backpack, pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and threw it at Rolly. She started to head out the door, but then turned back and grabbed the lavender sprig off the counter.

Smith sat on her unmade bed in her small studio apartment. She pecked away at a work project on her laptop. Normally, she would let herself get so engrossed in a project that she wouldn’t even notice the sun go down… or come up. This time, though, she eagerly watched the clock, waiting for 5:00.

The sun was starting to get low, but it was hard to tell with the usual smog that hung in the air of Lake City. The afternoon sunlight that did manage to penetrate through fell onto her bed next to her, where her tabby and white cat, Mat, lay snoozing. The sun crept along her bed until it reflected off of her laptop and into her eyes. She adjusted slightly on the bed, but couldn’t keep her attention on the computer anyway. She had spent the day working from home, as it was slightly closer to the tea shop than her current office, and she didn’t want to waste any time getting there. Of course, that also meant that all she could think about all day was five o’clock.

At 4:46, Smith got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror over her small dresser. The sprig of lavender she received the day before was taped to the mirror so it could dry out. She inspected her reflection and took the ponytail holder out of her hair. She fluffed and smoothed her hair out with her hands, and put it back up in her usual bun. She really wanted to look nice, but nothing but her typical style made her feel comfortable. The least she could do was make sure her messy bun wasn’t quite as messy. She checked her teeth, put on some deodorant, and smoothed her hair again before looking back at her computer. It was 4:47.

She flopped back down onto the bed, disturbing Matt, who let out a little ‘prrrp’.

“Sorry, Mat.” Smith leaned over and gave him a scritch and a kiss on the head. He yawned and stretched a paw out in return. She turned back to her computer and typed a few more things, unaware that she was shaking her foot like it had a flea in it. Mat stood and stretched, very much bothered by the vibrations Smith was causing, and jumped off the bed. After two more minutes dragged on, she finally shut her laptop with a deep sigh.

“You want your dinner early?” she asked Matt. “I might be out late after all.” She chuckled to herself, imagining the best case scenario of how the evening would go. Mat perked up and started rubbing along Smith’s legs at the sight of the cat food can.

Smith set Mat’s dish on the floor at his placemat and topped off his water bowl. She grabbed her gray hoodie from off the bed and put it on, and then picked up her tablet and headphones off her small kitchen table. The table had one chair at it, and was covered with junk mail, dishes, note pads, and other random odds and ends, which meant she didn’t have room for actual work there. The other chair was pulled close to her bed, where it had been serving as a makeshift table for a couple of old water glasses.

Should I take my backpack with me? She wondered to herself, as she packed up her essentials. Probably not. She reached into the backpack and pulled out her wallet, and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. She dug through her backpack again for her keys and chapstick and phone… and then put her wallet back into her backpack and slung the whole thing over her back. She slipped on her sneakers and headed out the door.

Smith hurried the five blocks from her apartment to Lake and Leaf as quickly as her little legs could take her - without running, of course. She hated that. As she stopped at a busy corner a block from her destination, she paused and admired a motorcycle parked in a lot. She had always wanted to be able to ride a motorcycle, if only she were a little taller to reach the ground. The 1200 cc sportbike was sleek, white, flashy and, in Smith’s mind, very sexy.

The traffic light changed, and Smith made her way into Lake and Leaf. As her usual habit, she started to remove her backpack once she got inside. She scanned the people seated at the counter, and started to head to her usual spot at the back of the shop, until another familiar voice caught her ear.

“No, green tea and black tea come from the same plant. They’re not different varieties. I mean, well, they are, they’re different types of tea, but it’s not like there’s a green tea plant and a black tea plant.” Nate was being his typical, know it all self. It wouldn’t be long until he would start being condescending to the poor person he was holding captive with his conversation.

“So which one is better?” Ellis asked, looking over a menu card.

Nate sighed. “Neither one is better. That’s like asking what kind of dog is better, although we all know that chihuahuas are the worst.”

“Okay, what do you recommend?”

Nate sighed again - his favorite thing to do. “I don’t know, what do you like?”

Ellis shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m new to tea. But I’d like to learn.”

Smith walked up to the small table in the corner where Ellis was seated. “Black tea tends to be stronger, and sometimes bitter. It’s a pretty standard tea, like English Breakfast, or the iced tea you get at restaurants. Green tea can be kind of nutty and smooth.”

Nate’s eyes went wide as he turned to Smith. “Oh. My. God. You think you can just walk right up to Ellis Jones and Smith-splain my job to her?”

“Well, you were kind of being rude to her, and Ellis is really nice.” She sat down at the table across from Ellis and placed her backpack on the floor under her chair.

“Wooowww,” Nate taunted. “You’re just making yourself right at home. Bold.”

Smith tried her best to ignore Nate. “I’d recommend the green tea, if you want something lighter. Or if you liked the one you had yesterday, that was an Earl Gray with milk and lavender.”

Nate’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling.

“What are you going to have?” Ellis asked Smith.

“I think I’m just going to get an iced tea.”

“You want your scone?” Nate asked, anticipating Smith’s usual order.

“No, just the tea this time.”

Ellis turned to Nate. “I’ll have the same.” She held the menu card up to Nate, who plucked it from her hand and slowly spun around on his toes.

“Baaaasic.”

Smith gave Nate a glare as he left their table. Ellis gave Smith a wincing smile. “He’s… a lot.”

Smith waved her hand in apology. “Yeah, this place is always a little less busy when he’s here.”

“I definitely prefer Rolly.”

“Everyone prefers Rolly.” They both laughed. “Sorry I’m late, though. I tried to get here early.”

“Don’t apologize. I got out of a photoshoot early and there wasn’t much traffic at the time.”

“Oh, you were working. No wonder you look so nice.”

Ellis looked down at herself. She was wearing a black leather jacket and a loose, champagne pink top with two long, delicate, rose gold chains. “No, these aren't my work clothes. I changed before I came over.”

Oh, Smith thought to herself. Even when she’s in everyday wear, she still looks like a model.

“But thank you,” Ellis said. “You look nice, too.”

Smith scoffed. “Hardly. This is all I really feel comfortable in.”

“I think that’s what’s nice about it. You’re comfortable and effortless.”

Smith laughed nervously and clutched her hands together on the table in front of her. Her thumbs twitched together involuntarily, as she was so used to having something in her hands, which was usually her phone or tablet. “So what was the photoshoot for?”

Ellis pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you want to see? They let me take a couple photos with me after the shoot for my portfolio.” She swiped her phone on and handed it to Smith.

Smith’s eyes went wide. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely not your work clothes.” In the photo, Ellis was crouched down and turned sideways, and wearing nothing but a pair of stiletto heels and some elaborate jewelry and makeup. “So it’s a shoe ad?”

“Perfume.”

“But… where’s the bottle? Are you even wearing the perfume?”

“That’s the industry.” She reached over and swiped to the next photo, a closer shot from the same session of her from the hips up. A pop of greens and yellows swept across her eyelids like comets across the sky, and her soft pink lips reflected a coppery shimmer. She was holding her right hand up, delicately framing her face, and her other arm crossed over her breasts. The heavy jewelry she wore dripped with emeralds and diamonds. Smith resisted the urge to keep swiping through her album, but instead stared intently at Ellis’ photo.

“Wow, those are great. You look ama-- you look great. Really cool.”

Nate came back up to the table behind Smith with their drinks on a tray. “Hm. I wouldn’t have gone with green. Clashes against your hair.”

Smith jumped and turned the phone over - a natural reflex whenever someone approached her while she was on her phone.

“You know, I had the same note for the stylist, but we had to go with what Josephina Bell wanted for her new fragrance label.” Ellis was starting to get the hang of handling Nate’s attitude.

Nate sat an iced tea down in front of Ellis. “Then maybe tone down the hair. Make it more golden than orangey.” He waved his finger around her hair. Ellis rolled her eyes up toward his hand.

“God damn it, Nate, keep your opinions to yourself,” Smith seethed.

Nate set the other tea down in front of Smith. “Anything else, honey?”

Smith was about to snap at Nate again, but Ellis interjected. “We’re fine, thank you.”

Nate gave them a sassy little wave. “Love you,” he beamed, before heading off again.

Smith took a long sip of tea as she thought of some sort of small talk to make. After what seemed like forever (but was really more like a few seconds), she finally spoke up. “Sorry, I don’t really go out that much. I don’t know what to talk about.”

Ellis laughed. “Well, you’re honest. But that’s okay. Tell me about what you do.”

“Oh, I do freelance stuff, programming, cybersecurity, data encryption, things like that. I get hired by the city a lot. It’s pretty boring stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound boring at all. That sounds impressive. You must be really smart.”

Smith shrugged. “I guess so.” She never knew how to take compliments, or even how to recognize them sometimes.

“But I’m guessing that’s not what you’re passionate about, right?” Smith thought for a moment. She wanted to tell her about her actual passion; she wanted to just blurt out that she wants to recruit a superhero, and she thinks it should be Ellis. But the idea sounded ridiculous. She couldn’t form the right words in her head to make it sound like it was, first of all, a feasible idea, and second, something that Ellis would even be on board with. They were virtual strangers at this point, and all they had in common so far was tea.

That, and their view on the police in Lake City.

“No, it’s not,” Smith said. “I like reading police reports.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Right.” Smith reached for the phone in the middle of the table, but stopped when she realized it wasn’t hers. “Oh, uh. Hang on.” She reached under her chair and grabbed her backpack. Setting the bag on her lap, she dug out her tablet and put it on the table. She opened up the police reports and scanned the day’s entries. “Here, look. A new robbery last night.” She switched to the map of the city and pinned the place of the robbery, a mom and pop restaurant. “Three nights in a row, and three robberies. They’re all along the same line, but not on the same street. They all happened around 3 am, and they were all in and out in about five minutes,” she explained, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “And the places have nothing in common: a small restaurant, a big box chain store, and a corporate office.” She looked up at Ellis with a glint in her eyes. “Somebody is moving quickly around the city, undetected.”

Ellis drew a line with her finger along the three points. “So that means that the next place they’d hit would probably be… this hotel?”

“I don’t know. These robberies all happened late at night when the places were all closed. But hotels are usually staffed around the clock. I’d say, maybe the restaurant connected to it.”

“What could they rob from a restaurant in the middle of the night?” Ellis asked. “Most businesses deposit their cash at the end of the day.”

“They were able to take a little bit of money from the small restaurant last night, but they made off with goods from the store, and some small electronics from the corporate office. They basically just take whatever they can get their hands on in a short amount of time. And whatever they can easily carry.”

“Why, though? What would they have to gain from such small crimes?”

Smith smiled. She couldn’t believe that someone was not only listening to her crazy interests, but actually seemed to be invested as well. “I don’t know. But they’re so frequent and they follow a pattern. It has to be the same people each time, and they’re probably counting on it to pay off in the long run.”

“I can’t believe the police haven’t noticed the similarities.”

Nate came back to their table. “Oh lordy, is she going on about her crime conspiracy theories? You don’t have to get sucked into her craziness, darling.”

Ellis smiled at him. “I know, she’s completely bonkers, right?” Smith closed her apps and set down her tablet, a little dejected that she couldn’t share her excitement with her crush anymore.

“Mm-hmm. You ladies good?” he asked, placing a check down next to Smith.

“Yes, thank you.” Ellis started to reach for the check, but Smith quickly grabbed it.

“I got it.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out twelve dollars from her wallet.

“Let me guess, Rolly doesn’t let you pay, but Nate does?”

“Yes, Nate sure does,” he said, snatching the cash from Smith’s hand. He picked up their empty glasses and headed to the back.

“Well, uh, I guess we should go,” Smith hesitated, disappointed that the date was over. “Sure. I have an early morning session with my personal trainer tomorrow.”

Smith nodded, attempting to look nonchalant. “Cool. That’s cool.” She stowed her tablet into her backpack again and stood to put it on. She paused when she saw Ellis reach under her own chair and pull out a black motorcycle helmet.

“Shall we head out?” Ellis said as she stood from the table.

“Y--yeah,” Smith squeaked, still trying to retain her nonchalance.

The two left the tea shop in the same direction.

“You know that I don’t actually think you’re bonkers, right?”

Smith gazed down at her feet as they walked along, side by side. “It’s nice to hear you say that.” They walked together a little further in silence.

“This is me,” Ellis said, and they stopped at the lot next to the red sportbike Smith had admired earlier. The sun had sunk low, and the streetlamps had turned on against the dusky sky. The light right above Ellis’ bike highlighted the glittery paint job, making it sparkle like fresh snow.. She set her helmet on the seat and zipped up her jacket, transforming her cool elegance into what almost looked like a mysterious… superhero.

“I had a nice time. Thanks for indulging me, Ellis.” Smith had a hard time looking Ellis in the eye, so she just admired her motorcycle.

“I did too,” Ellis smiled back at her.

“Well… drive safe.” It was the only thing Smith could think to say.

Ellis mounted the motorcycle and put on her helmet. “Thanks, I will. Good night.” She closed the visor and started the engine. Smith gave a small wave as she stood and watched Ellis pull out of the lot and speed off down the street.

“Oh damn!” she exclaimed aloud. I didn’t think to get her number. She pulled out her phone and opened up her Lookit app. She typed in Ellis’ name in the search and started scrolling through her photos and videos. Probably for the best. Would she even want me bothering her?

Smith slowly started to shuffle back to her apartment, still scrolling through Ellis’ pictures. Her thumb hovered over the ‘add friend’ button, as she nervously contemplated the idea of reaching out to the famous model that she happened to have a short date with.

Suddenly, two men jumped out from between a couple of parked cars. One of them punched her in the back of the head, knocking her to her hands and knees. Her phone flew out of her hand and disappeared somewhere in the dark street. “Just leave it!” one of the men said. They started kicking her in the ribs. Smith fought for some air to enter her lungs so she could scream out, but all she could manage were some hoarse gasps. One of the men started to pull her backpack off of her. Instinctively, she wrapped the strap around her hand and grabbed onto it for dear life. The only thing she could think to do was scream “No!” Smith curled into a tight ball on her left side around her backpack, as the one man kept trying to pry it away from her and the other one had gotten onto the ground and was punching her anywhere he could.

Smith opened her eyes as she heard a loud engine revving, and caught a glimpse of a white rocket hurtling toward them. The men also saw it, and took off. The rocket screamed past Smith and barreled toward the men. The rider leaned hard, making sparks fly along the pavement as the sparkling sportbike fell and slid toward Smith’s attackers. The rider had managed to let go of the bike before it hit the ground, and tucked into a tight roll. The motorcycle hit one of the men hard in the leg, and he let out a yell as he fell to the ground, pinned under the bike. The other man kept running. The rider got up and sprinted toward the man trapped under the motorcycle. He struggled to get out from under it, but the rider put her foot down on the wheel, holding him in place.

Ellis glared down at him through her helmet. To him, the dark, mysterious figure looked like a spectre in the night. The man trembled. “Pl--please! Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!”

Ellis pressed down on the wheel again, and the man screamed out in pain. “You’re pathetic.” She let the bike go. He whimpered as he struggled to wriggle out from under the wheel. “Get the fuck out of here.” The man managed to get himself free and limped off as fast as he could. Ellis watched as he slowly vanished into the darkness.

After he was gone, Ellis turned and ran toward Smith. Smith groaned in pain as she struggled to sit herself upright.

“Don’t move.” Ellis knelt down beside her and took off her helmet. She helped Smith lie back down on her back, and looked her over. Smith had a large bruise on her right cheekbone, a bloody lip, and scrapes all over. Her clothes were dirty and torn from being kicked and knocked onto the ground. “Where does it hurt?”

Smith groaned again as she tried to gesture to her ribs, but her right arm was just as bad.

Ellis unzipped her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

As she was about to dial the phone, Smith reached up with her left hand and pulled Ellis down and kissed her, grateful to her savior. And she felt Ellis kiss her back. At that moment, Smith thought that maybe her plan wasn’t so crazy after all.