#ripper' and it also made me laugh really hard. the little description was just a <3

[automatonknight]

I FORGOT TO MENTION. but there was also this sniper that i stumbled upon in the sewers and he did the thrusting thing just for me to see and it made me laugh so fucking hard it made me wish i could type in chat so i could tell them they're the funniest person on this server

[monsterstewwrites]

More Honey cuz I’ve gone insane

My Sheep hybrid AU Honey, from Miggiisdumb’s bnha hybrid farm au has been taking of my brain recently, so I wrote another thing for her. This time we actually see some of the smut she and farmer Shoto get up to.

I have no idea how farms work so a lot of this is guesswork and googling, also I am not a very good writer. But honestly, writing smut and sex gets me motivated anyway so here we go.

Shino belongs to one-spicy-spider and you should shower her with love.

Donovan stared into her eyes and ran his hands over her clothed breasts, her nipples hardening from the attention. The way his thumbs kneaded into the hardened buds sent shivers through her soft skin.

“Can you feel me through your dress?” He asked her, pressing himself fully against her and grinding his hips into her crotch. “The flimsy fabric you typically wear makes you practically naked, which I often love. But you're not actually nude, which can make things frustrating, as you can feel.”

Indeed, Alyssa could feel his manhood through the thin fabric of the white dress she wore, it throbbed through his own trousers and sent her into a flush.

“Do you want me?” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath making her wetter.

With a heavy swallow she nodded, and Donovan grinned and reached for the straps of her dress and pulled it apart with a hard ripping sound.

Her hands instinctively tried to cover herself, but he used one hand to grab her wrists and pinned them above her head. She could feel his long fingers twist down her skin and tightening around her joints, locking her into that position.

The now tattered dress fell to the floor as he snaked his massive hand down between her legs and pressed his entire palm against her dripping pussy and tapped lightly against her folds. She groaned at the gentle touch, hoping for him to pressing rougher.

“Do you want it rougher?” He said to her. “Do you want my fingers to treat you mean?”

“Please!” Alyssa cried. “Take me, open me and use me as you please!”

Donovan pushed his fingers inside her and kissed into her neck, teeth grazing her skin and his tongue working around her neck and squeezing, not to strangle her, but to feel her heartbeat against one of his most sensitive appendages.

She loved the way that his long fingers reached inside her in ways no one else could, and she groaned out in pleasure as he felt around inside her.

“Take me with your cock,” she moaned out. “Fill my cunt with your barbs and never let me go.”

“Sheepy, earth to sheepy!”

Honey snapped the book closed, her face aflame and legs squirming slightly as she pressed the book against her chest. She looked up at the sight of Doctor Keigo looking down at her with a smirk on his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked.

She winced and stuffed her smut back into the little pocket of her wool.

When she went over to Doctor Keigo's office for her checkup he had said it was okay for her to take the book she had been reading, and he once said as log as it kept her from being too nervous she could keep doing so.

They both forgot how much of a distraction her reading habits could be.

“I'm glad to know you're enjoying my gift,” the vet said to her as she turned back to him. “One person's trash really is another person's treasure and all that, still it'd be nice if you paid a pinch attention during your checkup.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No worries Sheepy,” he said. “Some people get sucked into it more than others. Now let me check your vitals to you can head back to the barn and finish that bodice ripper.”

He took out his stethoscope and began checking her heartbeat.

“It's a bit fast,” he muttered. “Though I have a good guess why that is.”

Honey stuck her tongue out at him, proof that she was getting more used to him and could be comfortable around with without fear.

“I know you first got into them for research,” he said idly. “You wanna get more ideas for how to better seduce the lads around here, most likely Shoto because you're more of a nightingale than a sheep most days.”

Honey pouted, he had insisted that before but she didn't think so. She didn't like him because he saved her or anything, she liked him because when she was scared and alone he was kind to her and made her feel like this new place was home.

That was completely different.

“I'm not a sexy cow,” she said. “I can't just make him suck my boobs the way he does with the cows, I wanna be able to walk all sexy and make him hard just as our eyes meet.”

Her fancy description and wistful tone made Keigo throw her a look, she really had been diving into those books a lot hadn't she?

“You really don't need at that faff to seduce someone, you know,” he said. “Men aren't complicated, and it's not like you've never screwed him before.”

“Well, yeah,” Honey admitted as she turned around and leaned over as far as she could without falling. “But I can barely ask for normal sex, what about that fancy sex I keep reading about and wanna try? The one where the princess was taken on the ship and tied to the mast, and the Octopus King saved her from the pirates and pleasured her while pulling the boat she was still tied to to his kingdom is still one of my favorites.”

Keigo paused in his checking of her spine.

“Was that was that one was about?” He muttered.

Honey ignored him and straightened herself back up, a few of her spinal joints popping as she stretched slightly.

“Is it so bad to wanna feel like a pretty damsel being rescued by her strong prince sometimes?” She asked, voice growing shy by her admission.

Keigo wrote something down on his clipboard with an amused sigh.

“Honestly considering what usually goes down around here that's probably pretty tame,” he admitted. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

She complied with each of his instructions and made a 'blah' to show him her tongue, checkups were kinda boring of she were being honest. Luckily only a few more things needed to be checked up on anyway, and he soon was able to finish things up with her.

“Alright Sheepy,” He said. “Everything looks to be in order her, you need me to escort you back to your pen?”

“No thank you,” Honey said. “I'm fine, goodbye doctor.”

“Next time I'll being you a series,” he said as she slipped out the door. “You're one of my most manageable patients, so I have to reward that somehow.”

He threw her a little wink and laughed at her flustered reaction, slamming the door behind her.

Doctor Keigo doing that always spurred her into a run, sprinting back to her pen where she could finish her book in relative peace.

The barn was usually pretty empty around this time of day, most of the other animals being milked or sheared or fucked.

Sometimes they fucked in the barn itself, but the hay had yet to be replaced and most of the hybrids preferred clean hay to roll around in.

Honey arrived at the barn hoping to find a bit of quiet, curl up under her blanket and read and get a few more ideas to become more confidant in herself. Sometimes she got so absorbed in her novels that she didn't even notice that sex was happening in the pen right next to her.

She didn't expect what she saw when she entered the barn made for the sheep to get to her pen.

“What?”

Amber eyes flashed at her as a stranger stared at her in silence.

A raccoon hybrid was rooting around in Honey's little pen and had strewn her novels all over the place, nearly all of them in tatters. Ripped out pages littered the floor and the cover of 'A midsummer night's cream' was sticking out of the raccoon's mouth as well as a few strings of the she's blanket.

Honey wasn't a violent hybrid by nature, in fact she was probably the least physically assertive (or any kind of assertive) hybrid in the the entire farm.

But when she saw what this stranger had done to her belongings and sleeping space something inside her snapped.

“NO!” She screamed, running towards the offending trespasser with her little hands in fists as she bounded over the fencing to get to her. “Get away! Those are mine!”

She tried to throw a punch at the raccoon, but was caught off guard by the little pest swiftly spinning around and swinging a knife wildly at Honey, slicing into her arm. A manic laugh erupted from her feral throat at her own actions.

But unluckily for the raccoon, Honey was loud when she was both scared and hurt.

She screamed as loud as she could, praying that someone could hear her, and she grabbed the raccoon by the roots of her scraggly blonde hair to make sure she couldn't escape. Another attempt to swing the knife resulted in Honey using her other hand to grip the grimy raccoon wrist in exchange for the blade nicking her skin.

“Geh!” The raccoon let out a harsh grunt as Honey pulled the sloppy hair. “Gedoffa me you stupid farmie brat!”

She pulled her arm away from Homey's losing her knife in the process, and swiped out at Honey's body, and the sheep was thankful for the level of wool she had accumulated because the claws protected her flesh from being sliced into.

Instead they tangled up into the wool itself which was less than ideal.

The pair of them ended up tussling amongst the scattered papers, with the raccoon trying to pry free from Honey and Honey herself trying to keep her in place despite the pain of her wool getting snagged.

Blood from her knife wounds trickled down her arm as the sheep hybrid tightened her grip on the raccoon's scraggly hair, one of the twin buns coming loose as she held fast.

It hurt really bad and she was scared out of her mind but she was too angry to let go.

The raccoon girl hissed as her claws managed to get free from the wool, tearing a chunk of it out in the process. She dug her hands into the arm that was grabbing at her hair and cause the sheep to let go.

“That's it!” The pest shrieked. “I'll teach you to mess with my rummaging!”

She drew her clawed fingers back and swiped at Honey's face, the sheep closed her eyes and braced for impact.

A sudden clang interrupted the pain and she felt herself get pulled away.

She blinked in confusion before realizing that she was in Shoto's arms, one hand wrapped protectively around her while the other held held a large empty bucket.

The raccoon was doubled over, clutching her head.

“Shoto!” Honey breathed.

“Damn you!” The raccoon cried out. “Don't interfere you asshole!”

Shoto looked like he was going to swing his bucket again, but something stopped him. A rush of air from above as something else literally flew into the barn and landed atop the fencing of the pen.

The barn owl hybrid Shino stared down at the scene with fury in her eyes.

The raccoon stared back.

“Well shit.”

Shino let out a screech, spreading her wings to their fullest and causing the raccoon to let out a shriek and turned around to run, but Shino was faster. The owl hybrid was on her in a second, pinning down her prey with her mighty talons.

The raccoon could only kick and scream as she was held fast.

Honey stared in awe at the sight of how easily Shino had apprehended that horrible raccoon, and made a mental note to thank her in some way once everything was set back to normal.

Glancing at the tatters of her books below, she wondered if she could make a flower crown out of the papers for her. She'd look super pretty with one, not that she didn't look pretty already.

At the barn doors many cows gathered to try and take a peek at what had happened, the heifers who could see the mess whispering to the cows in back and sending the whispers of gossip throughout them.

A few of the cows could see that Honey was bleeding, and that only got them more abuzz with interest. Shoto ignored them in favor of putting his bucket down and checking up on the little sheep in his arms.

“Thank you,” Shoto said to Shino. “I was afraid I'd have to hold it off myself.”

“No problem, I'm just sad I didn't catch her earlier. Hey! Quit kicking,” Shino snapped as other farmers and hybrids arrived at the barn to see what the fuss was about. “Don't make me rip that nasty head of yours off.”

While Shino was threatening, Iida barged in, pushing past the gossipy cows and taking a look at the situation in all it's chaos. When his eyes fell on the raccoon hybrid beneath Shino he actually recoiled at the sight of her.

“What on earth is she doing in here?” He asked. “How did she get in?”

“Maybe we can get the details out of her later,” Shoto told him. “Right now we should take care of Honey.”

He looked over her and took stock of the injuries she had sustained in her scuffle. All of a sudden the gravity of what had just happened hit her like a ton of bricks, the pain of her wounds coming to her now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She threw herself deeper into Shoto's chest and let out a tired sob.

“I'll take care of her,” he said to Iida. “You take care of that thing.”

“Bring her here Todoroki,” A voice said, silencing the gossiping cows. Doctor Keigo walking inside with a medical kit at his side and Izuku trailing behind.

Shino's feathers puffed up in irritation at the sight of Keigo, but given the situation she didn't move from her grip atop the intruder as he stood just outside the pen.

Keigo kept his distance and gave a nod to Izuku, who approached with a long pole with a looped steel cable.

Izuku quickly looped the snare around the raccoon's neck, only giving Shino the okay to let her up once he was sure it was secure.

“Keep one talon on her,” Keigo advised. “Take her to my office and don't take your eyes off her for a second. I have a friend who can make sure she isn't diseased and take her back to wherever she came from.”

It was clear that the great owl Hybrid wasn't keen on going to his office, but since he seemed to be staying behind to take a look at her little sheep friend.

Only slightly reluctantly, Shino and Izuku led the raccoon, who had begun laughing like a lunatic for some reason, and the onlooking cows hooted jeers and jabs at her.

“Now now!” Iida shouted at the crowd of hybrids looking on. “Nothing to see here everyone, go back about your day, unless you would like to help clean this mess up!”

That made them scatter, most back to their milking or fucking.

“I'll cover you for today,” Iida said to Shoto. “You make sure she's alright, I know she likes you best so it'll be quickest if it's in your hands.”

The way his face pinked a little bit told Shoto all he needed to know about where his mind was at as he walked outside where the remainder of the cows were waiting for him.

Not that either of them were complaining.

Setting her down, Shoto took Honey's sliced up arms and winced at the sight of them. He hated the sight of anyone on this farm hurt, and reaching for the medical supplies that Keigo placed nearby he carefully got about disinfecting her injuries.

She winced at the disinfectant rubbing into her wounds but remained still so Shoto could do his job. Once he was done he pressed his hand to her cheek, which she leaned into and kissed his palm.

Nearby, Keigo was examining the knife that had been used to stab at Honey.

“Looks like she swiped this from somewhere on the farm,” he said. “That means it's not likely to have any diseases on it, so that's a bit of good news here. I'll take a blood sample just in case, but I don't think you have anything to worry about, especially since you've been given shots to prevent this sort of thing.”

“That's good,” Shoto said as he bandaged up her injuries. “You've been really brave so far, can you hold still so he can do that?”

She nodded, but leaned into Shoto's chest anyway as Keigo pulled out a hypodermic needle and drew closer. No one liked needles on the farm, but she knew better than to kick up a fuss about it after everything and let him draw a bit of blood.

Once he had taken his sample he stood up so he could head out to get it checked out.

“I'll leave it to you two then,” he said. “You kids play nice.”

Shoto ignored him, and the joke flew over Honey's head as she looked at the mess made of her pen. He laughed as the barn doors closed behind him and left them alone.

Honey sighed sadly as she bent down to pick up the destroyed books that were scattered around her pen, the sadness of losing them creeping back to her.

“I can't believe that horrible thing destroyed all my books,” she said sadly. “I loved them all and now they're ruined. I might be able to figure out how to make the scraps into something pretty, but it's sad that I won't be able to read them anymore.”

“'Tonio gazed into Angelica's eyes and gave her full rump a squeeze, causing a grunt to erupt from her throat. He wanted to make that sound fill his mind forever, and he had just in instrument to do so.'” Shoto read from one of the papers, his eyebrows raising with each word. “This is some intense stuff, you know.”

Honey flushed and tried to grab at the papers, but he snatched it out of her reach with a teasing grin.

“Were you hoping to get some ideas?” He asked.

She was about to deny it, but she realized that the look in his eye was a chance that he was giving her. Honey swallowed and said the first thing she could think of.

“So what if I was?”

That was all he needed to hear.

Shoto pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another above her eye, and her nose, and finally to her soft lips.

She hummed into his kiss, feeling everything around them melt away. Her mouth opened instinctively and allowed him to push his tongue against hers as he gently guided her backwards until her back hit the pile of hay in the corner.

His hands ran across her soft body, fondling her chest as he kissed her and traveling lower and lower. One hand hooked under one leg and hitched it up to allow better access to the lovely pussy that was aching for him.

She moaned into his mouth as he fingered at her delicate clit, rubbing small circles into it with her thumb as his fingers probed her sloppy little hole.

Honey's hands gripped around his neck and pulled him closer to her, as close as they could possibly manage. He took the chance to nip at her neck, at that spot he knew drove her crazy as his fingers pumped in and out of her and curled his fingers just so, making tremors shake her body as she spilled over his hand.

“You,” she panted. “You were like my knight in shining bucket.”

That made him laugh against her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin and savoring the feel of her pulse beneath his tongue.

He wanted to make sure she was completely ready for him, loosening her walls so there wouldn't be any pain. She's already gone through enough after all.

After another few moments, he pulled his fingers out of her and reached for the fly of his pants.

“I'm you're knight eh?” He muttered as he fumbled with the zipper. “In that case...”

The sounds she made had made him achingly hard, and he could tell she had been thinking about his erection for a long time as he freed it from it's confines. She looked hungry for it, as much as he was for her.

“Allow me to claim my reward from the lovely maiden then.”

Honey felt like Princess Stella from one of her favorite novels, and she bit her lip in anticipation as her legs spread more, as much as she could manage.

Shoto ran a hand along her thigh, gentle and loving.

“Well then, are you ready for me?” he whispered into her ear. “Ready for your knight to take you?”

“Please,” she moaned. “Oh please fuck me, I can't wait anymore.”

Shoto gripped her legs and spread them as wide as she could comfortably manage and pressed his length into her aching pussy with a groan, the wetness from his earlier treatment allowing him to slide in until he was balls deep.

They both let out guttural moans that were practically in harmony.

“You alright?” He asked, not moving an inch until he was sure she was good about it.

She was stuffed so full of him that all she could do was nod, allowing him to pull away from her and slam back inside against her cervix, making her head fall back with her tongue lolling out of her mouth as he fucked into her until she could barely think straight.

“Oh god,” she moaned, bouncing against his relentless pounding. “Oh yes, please yes! More, please.”

The panting she made and the bounce of her breasts against his pounding only spurred him on further, and he repositioned her legs further until they were pushed up against her ears. It felt like heaven for both of them as fucked deeper into her.

Honey was on cloud nine, only able to think of the sensation of the man above her rearranging her insides. She reached a trembling hand down to where the pair of them were connected so she could continue at her clit. The sight was too delicious and Shoto felt the pressure building up inside him reach a peak, but he did everything in his power to hold off as he mercilessly pounded away.

The two of them filled the air of the barn with their gasps and moans until Honey began to feel her orgasm reach a boil.

“Please,” she panted. “Cum, I wan' cum. Come inside me, please!”

Her begging was enough to push him further towards the edge, and she felt the tension inside her was wound tighter and tighter as he hammered into her even harder.

It was impossible to tell how long they went on for, until a wave of bliss crashed over her with a loud cry. Her back arched sinfully and her walls clamped around his length and triggered an orgasm of his own.

He pressed against her as he emptied his load inside her, filling her up with his cum.

Bliss.

The pair of them panted against each other, their high winding down but they didn't dare move or the feeling would dissipate quicker.

Shoto pressed a kiss to Honey's neck after a moment.

“Good girl,” he panted.

Carefully he pulled out, watching as a few dribbled of his seed spilled from her. She looked up at him with a smile and longing in her eyes.

“Shall we clean up now?” He asked.

“Let's wait just another moment,” Honey said. “This feels too nice.”

He smiled, Iida had told him to take care of her after all. This was all part of the job and who was he to go against his orders?

And she was so soft and perfect to snuggle up with.

It wasn't until an hour later that they were able to get themselves to clean up the pen, saving the paper so Honey could make a lovely crown of paper flowers for her other hero.

She was sad to see her lovely stories go, but considering the fallout she could deem the acceptable losses.

Besides, between doctor Keigo and other farmers hearing what had happened, she soon had more than enough donations to replace it with.

[unofferable-fic]

Do You Fear the Devil? (Loki x Reader): 4 - Milk or Sugar?

Summary: You are one of the many working women roaming the streets of Whitechapel when a madman begins to murder your comrades one by one. The attacks are so gruesome, that the detectives can only describe his work as that of “a devil than of a man”. Loki Laufeyson is a Metropolitan police detective and surgeon who is assisting on the case. As more bodies pile up and you and your friends fear for your lives, the police remain well and truly stumped. When Detective Laufeyson turns to you for help to find the murderer, you must face your fears to save yourself… But who can you really trust when you are the prey being stalked at night by someone who calls himself Jack the Ripper?

Gif originally posted by isleoftom

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Victorian London AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries/violence, gore, language, angst, lil fluff.

Word Count: 5,658

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Playlist: “Everyone Loves Oranges” — Abel Korzeniowski, “Born Unto Trouble” — Bill Elm & Woody Jackson, “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, “All Gone (Alone)” — Gustavo Santaolalla

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A/N: Also available on AO3. I managed to churn this bad boy out in about four days after thoroughly researching the murder of Annie Chapman. Hope you guys enjoy it, because it was a nice slight change of pace from the other chapters. Thank you very much to those or commented, read, and left likes. Seeing feedback and such genuinely makes my day. Happy reading!

8th September 1888, 6.30 am.

Despite his haggard appearance and fatigue, Loki made it to Hanbury Street in good time. Along the way, PC Barnes provided him with everything they knew so far, and Miss Y/L/N also informed him that the victim was known to them, but mostly to Miss Maximoff. He appreciated the update, even if it was a struggle to keep his eyes from drooping shut.

You are in for a long morning, he reminded himself as they arrived on the scene. Pull yourself together before you draw unnecessary attention!

His first thought was on the massive crowd that stood before him. It must have been several hundred or so strong, and he turned to PC Barnes in displeasure. “What do you expect me to do with all of these people here?”

“Shit,” James mumbled, placing his hands on his hips. “Stark sent Wilson to get more men to contain it.”

The doctor scoffed. “And they are clearly doing a wonderful job of containing it.”

“What the hell do you expect? You know how understaffed we are.”

“Well then let’s make this quick.”

With PC Barnes clearing a way through the throng of agitated people, Loki emerged on to the crime scene with Y/N at his side. Sgt Rogers, PC Wilson, and two other constables were doing their best to control the bystanders, but there was only so much they could do when it continued to grow with each passing minute.

“I’m going to stay with Wanda,” Y/N said, gesturing to her friends, who were sitting  against a fence, as far from the body as possible. “I’ll be just over there, not that you shall need me anyway… I would hardly be useful to you.”

“I would imagine that you would be far more useful comforting your friend right now,” he offered her with genuine sympathy. “If you are needed, we shall call upon you.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

He gave her a brief once-over when her back was turned before he joined the inspectors who stood around what he assumed was the victim. “Gentlemen.”

“Ah, Dr Laufeyson,” Inspector Stark greeted him. “Sorry to keep you from your beauty sleep.”

“Luckily I am blessed with an appealing appearance, so no harm done.” Only then did Loki notice Chief Inspector Strange standing beside him. “Oh, Strange, back from your holiday already?”

“It would seem that violent murders have a tendency to cut them short,” he replied, looking grim. “The Chief Commissioner has put me in charge of this case—”

“Co-charge,” Stark added swiftly, wagging a finger between the two of them. “Co-investigating, co-parenting, kinda like a marriage.”

Dr Laufeyson raised a brow and looked between the two of them in amusement. With a slight laugh, he spoke. “Right, of course. Co-inspecting. How innovative.”

Chief Inspector Strange narrowed his eyes at his comrade, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you well, Doctor? You look quite rough around the edges.”

“Now that you mention it,” Stark began. “You do look more rugged than usual. Not sleeping?”

“Somewhat,” Loki dismissed them, turning his attention back to the body. “I did not sleep well last night. But regardless of my exhaustion, I need to see to this body urgently, Inspector.”

The older man snapped back into action. “Of course. We need you to work as quick as you can this morning, if you wouldn’t mind. The crowd is getting…frisky. Bad frisky.”

“Her name?”

“Annie Chapman, confirmed by Miss Maximoff over there.”

“When was she found?” he asked, squatting down so that he could begin a quick examination.

“A little before 6 am,” Chief Inspector Strange elaborated, looking at a small notepad. “By a man called John Davis. He came straight to the station to report it and we came here as quickly as we could.”

“I do not think your speed would have mattered. A quick glance is all I need to confirm that she is unfortunately beyond all medical help.”

With the little time he had before the body would need to be removed, Loki got to work and performed a quick examination. Annie’s left arm was placed across the left breast, while her legs were drawn up and skirts pushed above her waist, revealing a pair of red and white stockings. He turned his attention to her face, which was swollen and bruised, and turned on the right side. Between the front teeth protruded her swollen tongue, a clear sign to him that she may have died of asphyxiation. A bloodstained, white and red neckerchief that matched her stockings was tied around her slit throat. Upon closer inspection, he noted that it was dissevered deeply, with the incisions through the skin being jagged and reached right round the neck. This attack was as vicious as the one on Nichols, and, upon recalling the abdominal wounds inflicted on the previous victim, Dr Laufeyson quickly checked Chapman’s stomach and found a large gash inflicted by a knife. Though still connected to her body, her intensives were removed from her gut and placed on the ground over her right shoulder.

“Her throat is slit,” he said to the inspectors, without removing his eyes from the body. “But I do not think that is what killed her. Look at this.” He pointed to her protruding tongue. “My guess is that she died by asphyxiation. No sign of a struggle… She must have entered the yard alive. Look here.” He noted the fence above her head. “There are some small drops of blood on the fence, but not enough to imply that her throat was slit while she was alive. Rigor mortis has yet to set in, but the body was quite cold. This could be due to the cold weather, but it is hard to tell. The time of death may have been at about 4.30 am. Then again, I cannot be sure under the circumstances.” With a deep breath, he stood up, not wanting to let his eyes wander to her destroyed abdomen any longer. Even with his profession, he found it difficult to handle.

As Strange took notes of his findings, Stark pointed out some more details to Loki. “Her belongings are scattered around her and the yard too, so I don’t know how that goes with your theory of no struggle. We have yet to question the neighbours on whether they heard any disturbance.”

With a swift look over the items that were strewn about, Loki shook his head. “The ones by the bodies seem purposely placed to me.”

“Like they were arranged?”

“Possibly. It could have been a surprise attack as well. That would not give her a chance to fight back.”

“There was something else of note,” the Chief Inspector began before he ushered the men to a nearby water spigot. “So, let us say that you’ve just murdered a woman, slit her throat, and stuffed your hands into her intestines… Wouldn’t you urgently want to wash your hands of the blood? This spigot is perfectly clean and shows no signs of being used this morning by someone with bloody hands. Why not use it?”

“Why stick your hands in a woman’s intestines in the first place?” Inspector Stark replied. “The guy is probably bonkers beyond belief. If anything, this is just further proof of his audacity. He ran off, quite literally, red-handed.”

Strange nodded in agreement, though visibly put off by the notion. “I should also mention that we found a leather workman’s apron in the yard. It seemed out of place, so I thought it was a curious thing.”

Loki nodded slowly, glancing around the scene again. “The more information, the better, Chief Inspector. But I think I have done all I can here. Chapman needs to be taken to the Whitechapel Workhouse Infirmary before this crowd gets any bigger.”

“I shall send for an ambulance, Doctor. We should also have a word with Miss Maximoff — until we can contact Miss Chapman’s family, she is the closest thing we have to any information about her character or people who may want to hurt her.”

Stark nodded. “Noted. We shall see to it. How about you accompany myself and Wilson to the mortuary, Dr Laufeyson, while Strange sees to the women?”

Loki and Stephen both agreed, mostly just eager to have Annie moved out of the public eye. PC Wilson was sent to fetch an ambulance, and it wasn’t long before one was wheeled to the scene and the body was hidden away it a battered old coffin. The doctor threw a cautious glance at Y/N and her friends while Chief Inspector Strange explained to them what the next steps were. They appeared apprehensive, and Loki hesitated for the briefest of moments before taking his leave.

Upon arrival at Brick Lane, shortly before 7 am, Stark let out an audible groan. Loki looked at him curiously as they pulled up outside the infirmary. “What is the matter?”

“Look who is here to receive the body.”

Loki looked at the gates and immediately set eyes on Robert Mann, the same employee who had taken part in the unauthorised stripping and washing of Mary Ann Nichol’s body. “Oh, for God sake…”

“I’m not having this,” Inspector Stark immediately declared and approached the man. He looked him up and down with narrowed eyes, while Mann appeared thoroughly put off by the stare-down. As Loki and Samuel approached the pair, Stark made his instructions clear. “Considering Dr Laufeyson was apparently misunderstood before, I am going to put this in black and white for you boys. This body is not to be touched, other than being carefully placed in a room, until my colleague has completed a full post-mortem examination. Is that clear?”

“As day, Inspector,” Mann replied with a gulp. “Crystal!”

“I would certainly hope so. I would hate it if you lot were to lose your jobs, or if more women were to die because of your mistakes.” With a grin he gave the worker a hard pat on the shoulder and let them carry the coffin into the mortuary.

“Damn, Stark,” Wilson sighed. “It’s not often that I see you let loose on someone.”

“I suppose it is a rare occurrence.”

“I would usually comment on your out-of-character reprimanding, Inspector,” Dr Laufeyson began, taking off his top hat so that he could wipe his brow. “But with lives clearly at stake, one cannot allow room for silly mistakes.”

“Right you are, Doctor.” He looked to PC Wilson and continued on. “Do me a favour, would you? I would rather you stayed here and act in my stead. You are in charge until we return.”

“We?” Dr Laufeyson repeated.

“Yes, we. Look, I need to go assist Strange in questioning the women. It shan’t be an easy experience for young Miss Maximoff, of that much I am certain, but they are a little more familiar with you than they are with us. Your presence might make it easier.”

“Have Rogers do it,” Loki suggested, not entirely eager with leaving the body and having to be in the women’s company when he looked a mess and needed sleep. “Or Barnes.”

“I already have Rogers and Barnes in charge of speaking with the residents on Hanbury Street. C’mon, Doc. We’re short on men enough as it is, and I want to make the process as easy as it can be for the girl. She’s basically still a kid who just saw her friend’s intestines strewn out on the ground.” While Loki was visibly hesitating, Stark tried to ease his worries. “All I need from you is two hours. Then you can come right back here and perform the post-mortem, that sound alright? Wilson will be here to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

He could hardly go against Stark’s wishes given that he was his superior, and Loki knew that. Despite the fact he would much rather do his job and be done with it, he also wasn’t overly eager with the idea of the inspectors blundering their way through an interview and hassling Miss Maximoff more than necessary. His mind briefly drifted to the thought of seeing Miss Y/L/N again, and he was immediately perturbed by the fluttering sensation that made its home in his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he hated it or liked it.

Give yourself a break, man. So she is an attractive woman — it is not like you have met any of them before. Get on with it and stop making a fuss.

“Fine,” he relented, putting his hat back on. “If you insist.”

“I insist quite strongly, so thank you,” Stark replied, before saying his goodbyes to PC Wilson and returning to Commercial Street Police Station. They quickly made their way to one of the more comfortable back offices where Strange was already speaking with Wanda. Natasha and Y/N sat by her side, offering support whenever the younger woman needed it. The four of them were sat around an interview table in the centre of the room, on which there were a number of cups filled with tea, a kettle, and a few plates of biscuits. As the two of them entered the room, Strange paused the interview to offer them a beverage, which they both accepted.

“I hope you are not giving the young lady too much hassle, Chief Inspector,” Stark teased, sipping from his cup as he took a seat next to him. “I have heard you are not the best with delicate issues.”

“I am doing just fine, thank you,” the man replied, somewhat miffed by the accusation.  He turned his attention to Loki, who was shrugging off his coat and hat and hanging them by the door. “What is Dr Laufeyson doing here?”

“I thought the ladies would appreciate his familiar face while Miss Maximoff tells us all she can about Annie Chapman. You hardly expect them to stare at our ugly mugs all morning, do you?”

The women chuckled at that, and Natasha was the first to pass comment. “Give yourselves a bit more credit, boys. You are rather pleasing to the eye.”

While the group around him spoke, Loki kept his mouth shut and instead focused his attention on gathering a few cups, a plate of biscuits, and the tea pot from the table on to a tray. He brought it to the couch that sat to the left of the interview table where the group were gathered. When he set the tray on a nearby end table, he then carefully began laying its contents out before returning the tray to its previous place in the centre of the room.

“And you flatter us, Miss Romanoff,” Stark replied, always quick to give a flirtatious comment. “I request that you cut back on that before our heads explode.”

As Loki took a seat on the couch and began making himself a cup of tea, the chief inspector continued on with his complaints. “Should he not be attending to his duties at present?”

“I have been kind enough to give Inspector Stark two hours of my time,” Loki replied calmly, reaching for the plate of biscuits. “After which I will attend to my duties. Right now, I am to remain here and provide whatever help I can to our ever-complying ladies, here. Would any of you like some tea?”

He knew that Stark had brought him in to try make the atmosphere calmer and less professional. He had stressed before that they were on equal terms with these women, and while it may take Strange a moment to adjust around the arrangement, the women were a little more familiar with him. If his presence would bring them some ease and, in turn, progress the investigation, then so be it.

“I would actually,” Y/N answered, looking between him and Wanda. “It might help to wake me up a little.”

“Go and relax for a bit,” Wanda insisted, wiping the wet stains on her cheeks. She sniffled but pushed her friend on. “Natasha is here, so go sit down and have a cup.”

Y/N looked apprehensive at the thought of leaving her side even for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She gave her an appreciate smile before Y/N retreated to the couch and sat on the opposite end to Loki.

He was quick to grab an empty cup and pour her some of the hot beverage from the kettle. “Milk? Sugar?”

“A little bit of milk, please.”

While the others continued on with their interview, Miss Maximoff providing whatever details and answering any questions about Annie that she could, Loki and Y/N were left to their own devices. When her tea was ready, he carefully handed her the cup and encouraged her to take as many biscuits that she wanted. The others paid them no mind, and the doctor had been prepared to sit in comfortable silence until his companion broke it.

“I’m sorry they made you come in here to humour us.” He met her gaze to see her staring into her tea. “I’m sure you would rather be doing your job in the mortuary.”

What was she apologising for? Did she really feel guilty over such a thing? “I may be of more use in the mortuary, but Stark thinks my presence would make this whole thing go a little smoother.”

“I thought he just wanted you here because you have a handsome face?” she replied, a teasing smile slowly stretching across her face.

Oh? Did she call me handsome?

He could feel his own lips mirroring her expression. “I do believe he referred to my face as familiar as opposed to handsome, but it is nice to know that you think that of me.”

Though she laughed at his observation, he noticed the small tint of red in her cheeks. “My apologies.”

“It is quite alright. I would hardly refuse a compliment, especially when it is true.”

She let out a laugh and shook her head. “Your arrogance knows no bounds, does it?”

“Not particularly. But to answer your question, Inspector Stark thought my being here might help conversation flow easier. After all, the three of you are a little more familiar with me than you are with our dear inspectors.”

Y/N sat there and nodded, pulling her legs up under herself as she got more comfortable. “I think you helped us relax a bit. I know Wanda seems better than she had been earlier.” She sighed. “She could have done without seeing what happened to Annie, but I guess it was unavoidable.”

Loki sipped on his tea before offering his thoughts. “It is grim business to be involved in, and certainly not for the faint of heart — though I would not peg any of you ladies as such — but it is always harder when it is someone you know lying on the pavement.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked, momentarily confused.

“This,” she pressed. She met his eyes now, gesturing around herself. “All of this. You have to witness such gruesome things on a daily basis, most of them up close too. You have to bear witness to how vicious and violent people can be. Does it not horrify you when you see what we do to each other?”

Loki was known, especially by his living patients and colleagues, for having a silver tongue, the ability to string together words, and to talk himself out of anything. It was a proficient skill that he had trained just as much as his medical knowledge. This was, however, not a question he was asked often. Sometimes, PCs Barnes or Wilson may jest and make their usual exclamations such as “that’s nasty! How can you look at that without throwing up?” and he usually dismissed them with a sarcastic quip about how he loves the sight of lacerated organs. But he knew those men, and he did not know much about Miss Y/L/N. Still, he knew by her tone and the events of the day that her question was a genuine one that she wanted to understand. Even though she worked a difficult job and probably saw her fair share of unpleasant sights in Whitechapel, she wanted to better understand how he did what he did. It was clear that her question came from a place of confusion, distress, and genuine interest, and this was a new interaction for him. He didn’t have the urge to reply with dismissive sarcasm or disinterest. Despite the fact he knew very little about this woman, he still wanted to talk to her because she wanted to listen.

Regardless of the anxiety that came with talking to someone about such a personal matter, he was somehow willing to explore it. He barely knew Y/N, and maybe that was the reason why he did it.

“Of course it does.” He paused, carefully keeping his tone level and focusing on the still hot cup in his large hand. “In my experience, you eventually become somewhat desensitised to the horrors you witness. It never becomes wholly manageable, but only a little easier to deal with as more time passes. It is definitely something for only a few lucky people to do, but there are still days when I witness something so… nauseating that sleep eludes me or I turn to a strong whiskey to forget.”

“That certainly doesn’t sound easy,” she said after a few beats of silence between them, the other people in the room forgotten. “You must be very passionate about medicine to be in this line of work.”

“I suppose I am.”

“What made you want to become a doctor?”

He felt her eyes on him again, and turned to meet them, momentarily transfixed by their vibrant colour. He smirked. “Eager to learn more about me, are you?”

“I don’t exactly get the opportunity to ask doctors questions such as these,” she chuckled, opting to grab a biscuit and munch on it. “Usually I just experience a very swift visit with the doctors who check in on all the women that work at the brothel. We hardly get on the subject of how we ended up in our respective professions while they are making sure we’re not pregnant or ill.”

“A fair point,” he agreed and fiddled with his cravat in an attempt to loosen it. “If you must know, I have been fascinated with anatomy from a young age. That, and I liked the idea of helping people.”

“You do not exactly come across as the helpful sort.” When he raised a brow at her, she quickly elaborated. “Ah, that’s not exactly what I meant to say—”

Her mild awkwardness amused him. It was a vast change from the challenging woman he had previously encountered. Loki wouldn’t exactly be himself if he wasn’t eager to poke fun at her for it. “Well, colour me well and truly offended.”

“Dr Laufeyson—”

“It is Loki,” he cut her off, using the lull in conversation to take a biscuit for himself. “Just because you have offended me does not mean that you must start calling me by my title. As stated previously, we are on level playing terms.”

“Loki,” she began again, treading carefully. “What I meant to say was you don’t exactly express an obvious air of concern for others. You definitely seem intelligent and knowledgable and show a genuine interest in your craft, but caring was not a characteristic I would have chosen for you.”

He chuckled bitterly. “You are not the first person to say that to me, darling. And I am sure you shan’t be the last.”

“I wasn’t finished my point.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account.”

“Look, I meant what I said; you didn’t come across as someone overly concerned with others. But then again, you showed up here with the intention of making us, well, more specifically Wanda, feel at ease. You didn’t necessarily have to do that. And not that it’s a big deal, but it was nice of you to make me tea as well. I’ll admit that I didn’t expect even these little caring gestures from you, but I can see now how you would become a doctor so that you can help others.” She finished her explanation and then shrugged. “It makes a little more sense to me now.”

“You seem to be quite good at reading people.”

“Yes, well with a profession such as mine, you more of less have to learn in order to stay safe. It’s something I’ve had to practice over time, but I think I have made a fair go at your character.”

Before he could stop himself, he was suddenly replying with a joke. “And here I was thinking I was doing well to stay mysterious and aloof.”

“You can certainly do better, Loki,” Y/N joked back, and he felt glad that he hadn’t put her off. “Let’s just say that I am certainly right about you being a stuck up, arrogant toff.”

“Ouch… You wound me, my dear.”

“I aim to wound, Doctor. Speaking of...” She pointed to his cheek and winced a little. “Are you alright? I noticed earlier, but felt that Bucky annoyed you with enough questions about your wellbeing.”

His smile faded, and he suddenly recalled how he had acquired the cut on his cheek the night before. He turned his head and looked down at his hands for a moment so that the wound was no longer in her line of sight. He offered a small laugh before he answered. “I will be fine. Robbing is not exactly uncommon around here.”

“I know, but it’s hardly a pleasant experience either!”

“It is nothing I have not dealt with before,” he said, hoping she would simply drop it. “I can handle myself well enough.”

“If you say so.” If she was curious, she let it go for his sake. “At least I just wound you metaphorically.”

“Well, perhaps you would diverge from your wounding to instead humour me.”

“Humour you about what exactly?”

“By telling me how you come to your profession.” When she laughed at his suggestion, he frowned. “Well, it is only fair considering you asked about mine.”

“Yes well, I certainly didn’t chose my profession because I liked it,” she admitted, folding an arm cross her breast, a motion that did not go unnoticed by him. “I think we are both in very different positions.”

That much was clear to him as well. They were currently sitting on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to work. Loki was no fool — he knew well that most women turned to prostitution out of desperation as apposed to personal preferences these days. Whitechapel wasn’t an area known for its flourishing opportunities. But he couldn’t help but wonder about Y/N and how she came to be in this position. Much like her friends, she was relatively young, younger than Annie Chapman had been anyway. At the same time, he supposed they were all simply women who found themselves stuck in a situation that was less than ideal. It was obvious to him that the reason she found companionship with Natasha and Wanda was their mutual understanding. “I preferred to not make any assumptions.”

“I’m sure your assumptions would be mostly correct.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking his next question, though he felt like the answer was clear already. “Do you have any family that could help?”

She stiffly shook her head before nodding to the two other women. “They would be the only family I have. My parents died quite suddenly, so I didn’t have much choice.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered weakly, well aware that his words would do little. “Were they ill?”

“Tuberculoses.” Her eyes glazed over as if she was no longer in the room or thinking much about their conversation. “It’s one hell of a thing.”

A sensitive subject, it would seem. Perhaps it would be best if I didn’t push that further...

“What about you?” she asked after taking a swift gulp of tea, eager to forget her own memories. “Any family or other Laufeysons floating about?”

“No,” he answered quickly before he could stop himself. She was looking at him quizzically, but he merely repeated himself. “No one of note. It’s just me.”

“At least we have something in common,” she offered, but there was a clear note of sympathy in her voice, one that caused him to look down at his cup again. “Although it’s not a great thing to share.”

“I suppose not, although I am quite content with my own company.”

“All the time?”

“Well with company such as me, how could I not be content?”

She chuckled at that, and he was glad that she found his arrogance amusing rather than annoying or distasteful. “I wish I could feel that way about being alone sometimes.”

“You unfortunately have to learn to manage when it is unavoidable, Y/N.”

“As long as you’re not forcibly excluding yourself, of course.”

He paused, irked by the insinuation, mostly because he knew it to be true in his own circumstances. While he was teased by his colleagues for being a loner, it wasn’t a lie. Bar his patients and his colleagues with whom he worked, he rarely socialised with anyone else. It wasn’t entirely self inflicted, but he had resided himself to that way of life, and he was happy with it. Wasn’t he?

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, each of them finishing their tea and once again realising the dire situation with which they were so tightly bound. Even when lighthearted conversations could be had, it seemed that the murders and their horror were inescapable. They were both in the thick of it, but Loki couldn’t help but wonder how Y/N felt about it. Yes, they were both hunting the same monster, but said devil was hunting only one of them.

After a while, she spoke again, exhaustion evident in her voice. “My mother used to say that life could be a right load of shite sometimes.”

“Elegant,” he noted. “But also true. It can be tough.”

“The sooner I realised that fact, the better off I was.”

The conversation drifted after that. It never returned to the former depth with which it had begun, but Dr Laufeyson was somewhat relieved to instead speak of things that held little meaning. He always hated small talk, but on this occasion it was welcomed. It did him until the interview had ended and the women were escorted back to the White Swan by Chief Inspector Strange. Inspector Stark thanked Loki for his cooperation once again before the pair of them made their way back to the mortuary.

It was here that they made several unpleasant discoveries.

The first of which was that in spite of PC Wilson’s presence, two nurses had stripped and washed down Annie Chapman’s body after being instructed to do so by the Clerk of the Workhouse Guardians. Dr Laufeyson was so angry that he very nearly flung the clerk on to the street. He had never seen Stark as exasperated before, and his superior’s similar reaction helped to validate his own anger. After a lot of shouting, damning, and cursing, Dr Laufeyson was allowed to carry out his post-mortem. Stark sat in the room with him, grumbling about the idiocy of the mortuary’s employees.

“It is as if they are trying to tamper with the investigation,” he ranted, massaging his temples. “I swear, Loki, my brain is this close to exploding.”

“Shall I perform your post-mortem as well then?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. I just can’t believe they would do this again…”

Stark kept talking, but Loki zoned out as he turned his attention from Anne’s neck wounds to the large gash on her abdomen. He opened her up to survey the damage inside. What lay waiting (or rather, not waiting) for him both baffled and startled him.

He felt the blood drain from his face at the sight.

Stark was still rambling, but he couldn’t her any of it.

“Stark?”

“… if they’ve tampered with the evidence—”

“Stark?”

“—I swear, Strange won’t let me hear the end of this—”

“Stark?”

“—I shall tell that wanker that the only one who can boss me around is me—”

Loki couldn’t help but run out of patience. “For God sake, Stark!”

The inspector threw his hands in the air and spun around to face him. “What?”

“Her womb is gone!”

Silence engulfed the room.

Stark stood frozen on the spot, his face twisted into an expression of dread and confusion. “Her… womb?”

“Is gone,” Loki finished, turning his attention back down to the disfigured body. “He cut it out.”

In fairness to Stark, he did come to the doctor’s side so that he could peer at the damage himself. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning over the wound. “What the hell are we dealing with?”

“A man with anatomical knowledge,” Dr Laufeyson pondered, unable to pull his gaze away from the mess of mangled flesh and muscle on the table. “A doctor perhaps?”

As he spoke, Inspector Stark’s voice held every ounce of hatred that the man possessed. “This isn’t a man, Doctor. He is beyond that. Whatever we are dealing with, it is more like a devil.”

Despite wanting to remain hopeful to some extent, when Loki studied the work done by the murderer, he couldn’t help but feel the dread that Stark was expressing. The brutality with which this woman’s life was stolen was now as clear as day. This was way out of their comfort zone. Far beyond it.

This was otherworldly.

This was evil.

And they were not ready for it.

Taglist: @heysliver @lisalisa007 @ava-royal @eloisemacguffin @tvdplusriverdale @trickster-grrrl @mellow-mischief @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77

[missingverse]

Missing  Chapter Twelve

A week until:

She'd been up at the cave for three days and whatever mystery illness she had was clearly getting killed off by the fresh air and clear springwater up there (she figured, anyway) but she had to go home eventually.

After school, she tossed her clothes and sleeping bag in the washing machine, made a mental note to pick up some paraffin for the camping stove and batteries for her flashlight and showered. Just as she was getting out of the bathroom she caught the scent of cooking wafting from the kitchen. It didn't smell all that appetizing (way too much garlic and five-spice) but after three days of char-grilling over a campfire something cooked on an actual hob would be nice.

“Hi honey, how was your day,” Miriam drawled, already halfway into a Long Island iced tea.

“Pretty good,” Helga drawled back, sitting across from her. “Got an A on my History report.”

“That's nice,” Miriam sniffed, and swigged from her glass.

“Hit three home runs in practice yesterday.”

“That's super,” Miriam slurred, stirring her ice cubes with a straw.

“Then I beat a homeless man to death with my baseball bat. He had it coming.”

“That's nice,” she said again.

“Went to the park to celebrate and ended up doing a whole bunch of meth with some crackheads.”

“Well, the important thing is that you tried, dear,” Miriam slurred, blinking heavily.

Helga rolled her eyes; the 'say outrageous shit and see how long it takes Miriam to notice' game used to be fun when she was younger, but it was getting dull. Miriam just didn't react to anything anymore.

Bob blustered in just then with a pot full of some mysterious bubbling 'stuff.' Probably chili again. He looked surprised to see Helga there.

“Where the hell have you been?” he growled.

“Overnight field trip,” Helga shrugged. “I gave you the permission slip, remember?”

She gave him nothing of the sort but Bob nodded anyway.

“Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “Hang on, I'll get you a plate.”

He took the pot back with him for whatever reason, and there was a big production of opening and slamming cupboard doors. When he came back, he dumped two plates of 'stuff' in front of Helga and Miriam. Helga poked at what might have been a pinto bean with her fork gingerly.

“What's in this?” she asked as Bob sat down with his own plate.

“Little bit of everything,” he said, but he wouldn't look at her; he just shoveled the stuff into his own mouth. “Eat it and stop whining. I didn't spend all day in that kitchen to have you turn up your nose at it.”

She rolled her eyes again, but took a dainty bite of the mystery stuff. It was gritty, and oddly chalky and the aftertaste reminded her of accidentally inhaling aerosol spray.

…..

Phoebe caught up with Arnold at lunch, just as he was telling Thom from Social Studies about some cliff notes he had found.

“You were going to tell me something this morning,” she said instead of hello.

Arnold was acutely aware that people were looking at them and whispering. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gerald frowning. He gathered up his lunch tray, excused himself to Thom and brought Phoebe over to one of the empty tables at the back of the cafeteria.

“Yes, I was,” he said. “Something I came across this morning, it triggered a memory for Helga.”

“What was it?”

Arnold glanced around him; if Phoebe got upset, the rumours would be pretty wild....

“Arnold, stop it.”

“Hm? Stop what?”

She threw down her sandwich and fixed him with a hard glare.

“Stop keeping things from me because you think I'll be upset,” she said. “I've been upset for five years. I know it's going to be bad but I can deal with it. I want to help Helga just as much as you do.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “What do you know about Pocaselas?”

“Not much,” she said, brows furrowed in concentration. “I got a bus from there once when my Dad's car broke down.”

“Helga sees the name of the place in her dreams,” he told her. “I think it's like a residual memory. She also said she feels like there's something around her neck when she's asleep.”

Phoebe paled, but braced herself.

“Pocaselas is known for being a place that runaways go to a lot,” Arnold continued. “Do you think she might have gone there?”

“No,” Phoebe answered abruptly. “She always said she was determined to wait it out. She would have qualified for boarding school scholarships in another year, she was talking to Mr Simmons about it.”

Arnold hadn't thought about Mr Simmons for a long time. In the aftermath of Helga's disappearance he'd taken early retirement and left Hillwood. A paper reporting on the case quoted him as 'heartbroken.'

“She wouldn't have gone voluntarily,” Phoebe said, shaking her head with certainty.

Arnold swallowed. “Then that leaves us with the other solution. Have you heard of the Black Gulch Ripper?”

Phoebe paled even more, which should have been impossible.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Bits and pieces.”

“Most theories say he's an experienced woodsman,” Arnold said, bringing up the slew of articles he had looked up on his phone between classes. “Pocaselas is bordered by a stretch of woodland and marsh that meets Hillwood's forests on the other side. There's no roads connecting them and it's about two days walk if you don't mind wading through sinkholes in bear-infested wildland.”

“All the Rippers' victims were adults,” Phoebe countered.

“They were young women, or at least looked it,” Arnold said. “The youngest was nineteen, and all of them were taken from Pocaselas. Then he went quiet about three years before Helga went missing. It's not unknown for murderers to keep picking younger and younger victims.”

“So you think he caught her in the forest when she was out there? He walked for two days through bear-infested wildland, as you put it, and just happened to come across her? That's kind of far-fetched...”

“Is it really? Because none of the buses leaving Hillwood, none of the cars going through the speed cameras picked up anyone fitting Helga's description. As far as we can see, she never left the forest.”

“All his victims were dumped in the Gulch,” Phoebe said. “They never found Helga's body.”

“All of his known victims,” Arnold countered. “People disappear from Pocaselas at four times the national average. An experienced woodsman would be better suited to dragging someone through the marshes.”

Mute and unhappy, Phoebe stared down at her nibbled-on sandwich and Arnold did the same to his own mostly untouched lunch. They were almost relieved when the bell rang and they went back to class.

And then, something very unexpected happened.

Just as Arnold was pulling out his Algebra homework, Rhonda Lloyd Wellington stopped in front of his desk. Tapping her foot irritably and frowning down at him, she was oddly twitchy.

“I need to talk to you about something,” she said, glancing around the room at anyone who was looking in their direction.

“Uh, sure?” he said, surprised. She hadn't spoken a word to him in over a year.

“Not here,” she said furtively. “Meet me in the coffee house after school. If you're even a minute past four, I'm leaving.”

And then she was gone.

…..

The girls were furious, because Helga Pataki was flaunting her older boyfriend in front of the school with absolutely no shame.

Well, flaunting wasn't the word Arnold would have used. Helga was talking quietly to the boy at the wall that separated the school grounds from the street, and he was gently teasing her about something because she laughed and jokingly punched his arm. He flashed his teen-idol-worthy smile at her, the kind that seemed designed to make preteen girls swoon, and she rolled her eyes because she was all too used to it.

To the other girls, they might as well have been making out in full view of the entire school.

“He treats her like one of the boys,” Angela Harper sniffed with an injured air. “If that's the kind of thing he goes for, good luck to them.”

“Wasn't there another boy walking her home yesterday?” Nadine piped up.

“That's Martin,” Phoebe said over the spine of her book. “Patrick was away yesterday and they don't like letting Helga walk home in the dark. She's not dating either of them.”

“Whatever,” Angela said, tossing her hair back. “Personally I don't think a boy should walk you home unless you're dating but that's just...”

“Could you all just shut the fuck up?” Rhonda growled suddenly, looking up from her phone for the first time.

A touchy silence fell on the girls, they exchanged nervous glances. Rhonda smoothed down her hair, and over her shoulder Arnold could see she wasn't looking at her phone but rather at her own reflection in the blackened shine of the screen.

…..

Rhonda glared when she saw Arnold had brought Phoebe with him.

“You could have warned me you were bringing her.”

“Sorry,” Arnold shrugged. “I get the feeling this is about Helga. You were behind us in the cafeteria.”

“Bingo, Sherlock,” Rhonda laughed scornfully, and then she looked nervous again. “Hey, you mind getting me a latte or something? They don't let me vape in here, can you believe that?”

“Okay,” Arnold nodded, and went to the counter to order. Phoebe followed him.

“Can you believe her?” Phoebe hissed into his ear. “As if she's doing you a favour being here...!”

“She might be, we don't know yet,” Arnold hissed back. “If she gives us something new, it's worth the price of a latte, right?”

Phoebe grudgingly agreed.

Even when she had her coffee in front of her, Rhonda fidgeted, took out her vape and put it away again, touched up her mascara and fiddled with her phone before she even tried to speak to them. Her hands were trembling, Arnold noted with surprise.

“Did you want to tell us anything or are we just here to watch you be Rhonda?” Phoebe bit out at last.

“Ooh, that's told me,” Rhonda laughed mockingly. “Fine, let's get this over with.”

But as she took a sip of her latte, her demeanor changed once again, her eyes dropped to the table in front of her.

“Look, you have to understand something first, okay?” she began. “I was a stupid kid. A really fucking stupid kid. I did stupid shit and nobody ever stopped me so I just kept on doing it. Get that?”

Arnold nodded, Phoebe folded her arms and stared. Rhonda sipped her latte again.

“Back then, I was really pissed off at Helga,” she continued. “I didn't even think she liked boys... and she didn't give a shit about looking nice or anything so it was kind of annoying when suddenly all these older boys are fawning all over her like she's some fucking supermodel....

“She wasn't dating them,” Phoebe cut in. “You know she wasn't!”

“Whatever,” Rhonda quipped. “Anyway, it made me mad, okay? And I thought fine, if she can do it so can I. How hard would it really be to get myself an older boyfriend? Turns out it's not that hard at all. Especially if you do it online.”

Arnold's heart sank; he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“You'd better believe I got lots of attention. As many older boys as I could ever want. Way older. And then there's this one guy who pops up, and he's really nice to me. Listens to all my complaints about school and home and whatever, and then he sends me a picture.”

“What kind of picture?” Arnold asked, his mouth gone dry with the horror of it.

“A picture of Helga. Not a creepy picture or anything, except she's asleep in it. And he tells me she's his cousin and asks if I know her. I didn't even know she had a cousin.”

“She doesn't,” Phoebe said quietly, as if from very far away.

“I didn't know that. So I said yeah, she's in my class. He tells me he wants to meet up with his family because they got separated or some shit, and I figure if he meets up with them he would be in Hillwood and I could date him properly. Like I said, I was a stupid fucking kid.”

“what did you do, Rhonda?” Arnold gulped.

“I told him where we lived.”

Phoebe reacted before Arnold could stop her. There was a loud crack as her palm met Rhonda's cheek. Rhonda's head snapped to the side and she stayed there, stunned, as her face reddened.

“You bitch,” Phoebe growled. “You sold her out because you wanted a boyfriend? You fucking bitch!”

She went to slap her again, but Arnold stood up and grabbed her arms, pulling her back, as Rhonda shakily sat up again cradling her cheek in her hand.

“Phoebe, no,” he hissed, trying to drag her back down to her seat. “Come on, what's done is done.”

Phoebe swung back and pushed him away, and then she grabbed her bag and stormed out. As the door of the coffee shop slammed shut, he could see she was in tears. He could go after her, but....

“Rhonda, are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Tears were glittering in her eyes, but she blinked them away and tried to act casual, sipping her latte like nothing had happened.

“You're a nice guy, you know that?” she laughed bitterly. “It's no less than I deserved, right? As if I haven't been thinking about it ever since...”

“Did you tell the police when they questioned you?” he asked, already guessing she hadn't.

“No,” she said, and Arnold's heart sank. “Arnold, I sent pictures to some of those guys! Pictures I didn't want my folks seeing....and you know how that kind of thing gets around....I'd have been finished at school.”

“Helga's probably dead, Rhonda,” Arnold reminded her. “And whoever got her is still out there. I think it's a bit more important than your reputation.”

“Yeah, well,” she laughed again, so bitter it stung. “Like I said, I was a stupid fucking kid.”

…..

Helga was asleep in his bed when he got back, and Arnold's heart thumped hard because she had been sleeping more and more lately. Did it mean something? Were they running out of time to find her closure?

The PC was on, and a folder of his finished homework was open on the screen. It was only 8pm, but he dressed for bed and slid in beside her anyway, to watch her breathe. His eyes traced the long line of her throat, looking for the mark of whatever she felt was around her neck. Sure enough, there was a faint red line circling her neck, near the juncture of her chest. He reached out and stroked it gently with his finger.

Suddenly, Helga mumbled something frenzied-sounding in her sleep, turned over and ended up just an inch or two from Arnold's face. He saw something he hadn't noticed before.

On her bottom jaw, on the right side, two teeth were missing.

[lefishe]

Different types of sound

Hey there. Currently stuck in my exam period. Was expecting to take a bit of time off tonight and maybe to talk to someone, but there isn't anyone for me to talk to. So instead, let me tell you about how I fill the void of empty sounds in our everyday world. I tend to be very socially anxious and awkward, and so making new friends is really hard for me to do. Here's how I fill that void.

I tend to drive around 700 km, getting to and from school every week, and I also spend around 15 hours a week at work. During all of those hours, I'm listening to something. When I start the car, you'll never see me leaving without having put something on. Seriously, sometimes I think I've gone mad because I never have a moment of real silence. Sometimes it feels like I need constant entertainment, because I have no other sources of "fun" for myself? I'm not quite sure.

Anyways, I've been thinking, through listening to everything I do, about what different modes of sound mean to me. Usually, I listen to either music or podcasts, and over quite some time, I've realized that each one has their way of making me feel. This summer, I started a job that required me to be outside all day, driving my little lawn mowing tractor and wiping those little-stranded outliers of grass. Day two, I realized that, "well fuck, there's no way I'm doing this all day listening to those motors" (not actually what I thought, close enough though). I instantly reminded myself of the weird world of podcasts, which are basically just snippets of radio shows that are made for everyone's different interests, or can just be the equivalent of YouTube, but without the video. I had tried podcasts during my first year working at my parking booth, but obviously realized after one summer that I could just watch movies or tv series if I were to be sitting in one place all day. I'm rambling, but regardless, I downloaded myself an app for podcasts, went through discovery and tried to find some that I had listened to before, some that were recommended through some YouTube videos and more. Needless to say, I was HOOKED.

Throughout the summer, I listened to over 300 hours of podcasts. That's 12 and half days. Let's just say, there wasn't a damn second I wasn't listening to podcasts, and damn, they made my work days awesome. Since my job basically did itself, I was essentially being paid to learn about amazing things through these earbuds in my ear. During the summer, I really didn't think about podcasts as I think of them now. When I couldn't find a good show that I had downloaded, I played some music to change it up and it always seemed fresh. During my school year though, I've noticed that I feel a bit differently about podcasts.

What I've realized is that podcasts often fill a void in my life. Weather it's me not having that many people to talk to, because I really am so scared of talking to people, or weather it's me being anxious about school or the "grown up" things I have to do, podcasts have become a true escape for me. I've realized that podcasts have become an escape because when I listen to them, I don't have to think for myself. All I have to do is listen to whoever is talking on their microphone, and I don't have to think about anything in my life. I don't have to realize what I'm doing, and in many ways, I can focus directly on the topic of the podcast. I can feel like I'm part of their discussion, I often even talk to myself about my own opinion about the topic that I'm listening to. Essentially, I lose myself in the podcasts that I listen to, and they really replaced all the needs that I can't figure out how to fill in my life. Podcasts are amazing for me because they fill my depressive moments, and my anxious mind with interesting ideas about the world that I'm not managing to find my place in. In many ways, many of the podcasts I listen to give me hope. "If these people can talk about what they love every day for a living, well damn, I probably can do that too".

I've found that I have a hard time listening to music these days. The difference between podcasts and music is that music allows me to listen, but to still think for myself. When I feel like shit, I don't want to be able to think. I want to be involved in interesting topics, be made to laugh, to be comforted out of the mindset I'm in. Music for me these days is a background, and compared to podcasts, it cannot fill my mind. This juxtaposition often makes me really worried. I find myself thinking about how much distraction I need to fill the voids in my life, and how much these voids must be deep in consequence.

I'm not quite sure where I wanted this entry to go. I just wanted to write a bit about podcasts, because they've really become a big passion and interest in my life. Regardless of their amazing features though, I kind of wanted to write down my worries with how much I am invested in them. It really does feel like I'm missing a lot, and I really don't know where to start. I also wrote this in a bit more loose style, so let me know if it turned out alright. Just wanted to ramble a bit. Below, I'll write down my favorite podcasts, and a little description. Honestly, check these out. I have 412 hours of listening, so damn, I must like them quite a bit, and I think you'd like them too. Thanks again.

My most listened to podcasts:

-Couples Therapy: With Candice and Casey Neistat, who is an influential vlogger on YouTube, they describe and go through periodically their struggles and victories in marriage. Sometimes serious, often quite funny, but regardless different!

-The Daily: I stopped listening to this, but I did during the summer. Its the New York Times daily news podcast for the United States. Very good reporting, interesting investigative stories, and Mike Barbaro. Also, lot's of Trump.

-Death in Ice Valley: By the BBC World Service and NRK, this podcast is a 10 part series on the investigation of the Isdall woman, an unidentified woman found in Norway in the 70's. The very best atmospheric audio I've heard in a podcast, and a very intriguing story. Does not give all the answers, but describes the story of this mystery extremely well.

-Unravel: With two different series, both in a similar style to Death in Ice Valley, Barrenjoey Road and Blood on the Tracks, both investigate the death of young individuals that have families that never understood their questionable death and disappearance Well narrated, and a good binge listen.

-The H3 Podcast: I love H3H3 so I obviously love their podcast. A more casual and comedic podcast, often they discuss cultural news from the week, and have interesting, guests from the internet and YouTube. A romp, a laugh, and many goofs.

-Casefile: Probably one of, if not my favorite, Casefile is a true crime podcast done right, probably the best around. Spookily narrated, expertly written, over 100 cases all have interesting stories, and horrifying cases of people dying. I know it's weird to be intrigued by death, but even if you aren't, this podcast will make you want to find out how each gruesome case plays out. It also has many 3 part series on cases like the Jonestown mass suicide, to the Yorkshire Ripper, The toy box, to the Silk road. Fuck, honestly what are you doing not listening to this.

-Wolverine, The long night: A different, story-based podcast, Wolverine is about what you'd think it's about, but really not. Honestly, I'm not sure how to describe this, but as a 10 part series, no reason to miss this. It's a great story, and somehow all written and told through audio. Impressive.

-The Joe Rogan Experience: One that I listen to sparingly, these are interviews with comedian and WWE announcer Joe Rogan that are with interesting figures that don't think too highly of themselves, and go on this podcast to talk 3 hours straight about literally anything. Some of my favorite episodes are with Dan Bilzerian, Tom Segura, and Bert Kreisher, and always give good laughs. Just strap in because these come out often, and are always long.

-The Basement Yard: From one of the funniest YouTubers out there, Joe Santagato talks with his equally hilarious friends every week on Monday about the most random shit imaginable. Often with his coworker Danny, they talk about sex, to fighting over which candies are the best, and sometimes, it's dangerous to drive while listening to this. The funniest podcast ever, and always puts a damn smile on my face. Can't ask for more.

[miamibeachhistory-blog]

A Place Behind the Dunes copyright Michael Durham

I spent my whole life going to the beach. There was just something about the warmth of the sun, the sand between my toes, and the calming roar of the waves crashing on the shore, that made me feel at home. I loved the beach and I can still remember the times when I wouldn’t go near the water unless I was wearing my red and blue Spiderman floaties, begging my dad for ice cream even though it was almost dinner time and the treat would surely spoil my appetite. I remember the hot sun beating down from above, melting my chocolate soft-serve cone down my hand. When you were a kid you never really noticed how messy you were, covered in sand, ice cream, and God knows what. Those times were simpler, when trips to the beach meant family, friends, adventure and relaxation. Now, it’s a whole different feeling when I venture down to the dunes, stepping over seagrass, driftwood, and old beer cans. It’s the third time this month I have found the lifeless body of some poor girl who was unfortunate enough to go home with ‘Gilgo Jack’.

My name is Howard Heart (people call me Howie), Chief Investigating Detective of The Suffolk County Police Department on Long Island, New York. Do I enjoy my job? Hell yes, what kid wouldn’t wanna be a detective. And although everything I do isn’t as glamourous as the primetime CSI shows, to me it couldn’t be cooler.

In my mid-forties now, life is coming at me more quickly. People tell you when your young, not to blink because you might miss the ride and this couldn’t be more true. I feel like just yesterday I was graduating from the academy and then boom I was married with three kids, coming up on a decade into my career. Nicholas was almost 9 already.

This morning at 5 am I got the call that another victim had been discovered, mangled into the brush on the dunes right off Ocean Parkway. This had been the third victim in a month and the fifth already this year. But this is the first time that I was named as the Chief Detective of the case after the last detective stepped down after making no significant leads in the past month.

All the victims were found the same way: naked, lacerated, strangulation bruises, and missing their tongue. All the victims also met a similar description. This one, Cindy Kouffax, was in her late twenties. A tall, blonde girl from California that must have moved out here for undergrad and just never left. That was the common theme among the victims: they were all fairly young, tall, thin and lived alone.

I went around the dune to where the crime scene was and almost lost my breakfast. I had seen dead bodies before, two prior this month in fact, but the way this poor girl looked, it nearly defeated me. I darn near wanted to cry. It is crazy to think just how sick some bastards are, and having a young daughter, I thought to myself about what I’m gonna do when she starts going out with her friends. That’s a real nightmare I have.

As I burned my lip on my coffee, my partner Tim Robbins filled me in on the details, which were bleak and unrewarding.

“Yeah, same kind of deal, young attractive girl that probably ran into our friend Jack.”

First of all, Jack was far from a friend. ‘Gilgo Jack’ is the name we kindly bestowed to the killer as some kind of tribute to the greatest murderer of all time, the infamous Jack the Ripper. It was Tim who came up with the name, cleverly I might add.

“Jesus, you never can get used to that smell though huh, Howie?”

And Tim was right, the smell of that decomposing corpse was worse than you could imagine, it lingered in your nostrils and you could never forget it.

“This is the third body we found this month and we still have no more of a lead on a suspect than after the first body was found in April. We need to do something here. We can’t keep letting these girls go out and end up like cattle ready for slaughter.”

The suspect we are looking for is a ghost; he never leaves evidence of DNA. The incisions on the bodies are usually clean, suggesting that he has some sort of a medical background, but then we get a body that looks like its been hacked-up with a rusty butter knife and we don’t know what to believe. There are never any witnesses to describe a potential suspect and half the time we don’t even know what bar these girls got picked up at. There is still so much space missing when trying to connect the dots. We haven’t made much headway since the first body was found months ago.

“Hey, I think I got something over here!”

One of the officers called me over and pointed down to the sand. Jack had made a critical mistake, he was getting careless. There laying on the dune covered in sand, was a broken, bloody stiletto that could be the first lead in catching this monster.

 We investigated Cindy’s home and found little to nothing. She was tidy and meticulous, everything was neat and organized. It was a nice place. She must’ve been doing well for herself. You could tell that she was a careful individual who was very schedule oriented. We joked about her multi-colored calendar chaotically covered in post-it notes, which actually led to some headway. Written in pink highlighter was the word ‘Memory’ circled and underlined twice on the little Thursday square. This was a lead. So we headed off to the local hangout known as The Memory Motel.

Later that night me and Robbins took the trip into town. It was about three miles from the last dump site. The Memory Motel, a little rinky-dink bar that is usually filled with an older crowd of locals, chain-smoking cigarettes with little tasteless conversation, a real hole in the wall place. Definitely not a place someone would expect a girl of our victim’s age. They do have a great deal for burgers on Mondays though, so it was worth the trip. Robbins and I stopped by to chat with the bar proprietor, “Rusty” as he was called.

We showed him a picture of Cindy. “Yea, she was in here the other night, a real natural beauty, you couldn’t miss her. She ordered a cocktail and waited in the corner over there for about a half hour, then she got up and left. That was at about 10.”

“Did she speak to anyone while she was here?” Robbins questioned.

“I don’t think so, but the boys were gawking at her, she seemed to like the attention. But no, she sat by herself over there in that corner until she left.”

Well, we didn’t gather as much useful information as we hoped, but Rusty’s recollection did initiate a timeframe. She was still alive at 10pm that Thursday night.

 The next morning I got up at my usual time. It was still dark out, but the birds were chirpin’. It was that kind of weird dawn time when people were awake before the sun. I’m not a man of long showers, but for some reason the warm water on my face felt so strangely good. I hadn’t slept much last night. When I finally emerged from my steamy hideaway, my wife, Kate, was already downstairs.

“They wrote an article in the herald about that girl you found yesterday. She graduated from Columbia Law School a few years ago. Her parents had no idea she was even living on the island.”

This poor girl. Her parents hadn’t even known where she was when she was killed. Imagine the devastation on the other side of the line after she was identified. I went back upstairs and gave each of my children a kiss on the head. They were still asleep; school didn’t start until 8 for them. They all looked so innocent laying in their tiny beds with their superhero and princess comforters, hopefully dreaming big. Never tell a kid they cant be something when they are little. They have the rest of their lives ahead of them to become whoever they want to be. At least that was my view on the situation.

Walking back into the station, I was met midway between the door and my desk with a handful of papers shoved into my face.

“This is the full report from yesterday’s victim, and you’re never going to believe this. We found DNA on that stiletto that wasn’t from Cindy. No matches for it yet but we are gonna continue to run analysis on it. Makes me feel a little better that she clocked the sucker and didn’t go down without a fight.”

This was the best news I had heard in a while. All night I was running scenarios in my head of how the next victims were gonna look, each more unpleasant than the next. But this made me hopeful. There was a positive aura around the whole station and everyone seemed to benefit from the good news.

After lunch, Robbins and I headed back to the victims apartment to do one last sweep while waiting for the DNA results. For some reason I had a feeling that we were gonna find something new, something we missed and overlooked before. It was a good day and we wanted to keep the momentum going. It was eerie walking around in this dead girl’s apartment. It was a place where she lived her own individual life and now it was nothing. It was no longer a home, no longer a place to come home to after a long day of work, no longer a place to laugh or cry, it was just nothing. Unfortunately, we found nothing of substance, and it was time to head back to the office for the results.

“The cross reference came back without a match, I’m sorry Howie.”

That one sentence was basically the end of my day. All hope I had from early had simultaneously left my body at that moment and I was immediately exhausted. I went back into my office, shut the door, and laid my head down on my desk. This is where I stayed until it was time to go home.

People say not to take your work home with you, but I couldn’t help myself. My Dogfish Head IPA had run dry and the Mets were losing 7-1 to the damn Cardinals. It was hard to distract myself from work. I wanted to pull myself away. It was late. I needed something stronger, so I poured myself a handsome glass of maker’s mark, slugged it, and poured another one. I made my way to my office where I sat the glass down on my desk and began looking over some old files that I had laying around. Most of them just cases from earlier in my career. None of them particularly stuck out. But all these cases were closed. In fact every case I had ever worked on was closed. It got me thinking. I’m going to catch this catch this monster, or it’ll drive me insane. I was tired, it was late.

 My alarm woke me up the next morning, I felt like I had barely slept a wink. It was time to embark on another days work. When I made it back to the office I was again assaulted by Robbins while I was till only halfway in the door.

“There’s a girl here that wants to speak to you. She said she may be able to give a description on our guy. Apparently she was at a bar the other night and a man approached her. She said he offered to buy her a drink, but she was with her fiancé so she refused. But guess who she said she saw leaving with the guy later that night. Our fifth victim, Cindy Kouffax.”

Immediately, I was thrown into the hurricane of hysteria created by this girl. She was crying. I told her to calm down, go slow, and start from the beginning. It was honestly too early for this.

“Okay, okay, well,” she started. “We were at the Sloppy Tuna on Seacliff Street and this man approached me. He was wearing glasses and was very nicely dressed. He was actually pretty handsome.” Her fiancé sitting next to her didn’t seem to appreciate that comment. “He offered to buy me a drink, but I told him that I was actually getting married in a few weeks. Then he kind of chuckled, bowed his head, turned around and left. And that was pretty much our entire interaction. But then right when we were getting ready to leave I saw him leave with that tall blonde girl from the paper! He must have been the one that killed her!”

“What time would you say that was at approximately?”

Looking at each other the couple collectively responded with “2 am”. I glanced up and down at the man. He was rugged and had a band-aid on his face. It was strange but I disregarded it. I was giddy that we had gathered more evidence on a potential suspect. This also narrowed our timeframe even further. Our victim was still alive when they left the bar around 2 that Thursday.

I sent the women and her husband to describe the man to our facial sketch artist. I thanked her for coming in and reiterated what a huge help it was. And it truly was. On the outside I was calm, but on the inside I felt like a little kid on Christmas. This was a crucial development in a case that has been looking more empty and hopeless each day. If we could match a face to the killer then there is no doubt in my mind that we would close this case by the end of the week.

 It was Thursday, exactly a week since we found the last victim and with the weekend approaching I was nervous that our killer would strike again. Having watched too many episodes of CSI: Miami and other Hollywoodized cop-show propaganda, I had a gut feeling that our killer would strike again because they begin to murder more frequently when their thirst simply cannot be quenched. It was a rough morning and my wife found me day dreaming over my bowl of lukewarm oatmeal. It was already 7, I was late for work.

Swinging open the doors to the station, I was surprisingly not met with the loud cacophonous chaos that had greeted me everyday this week. The office was pretty dead. Was it a Holiday? Then I heard Robbins voice call me into my office. He handed a laminated piece of white paper. Hesitantly, I snatched it from his hands and turned it over. There on the other side was the pencil drawn sketch of our killer to the best detail that our witness could remember. It was weird because at first I couldn’t process exactly what I was looking at. It was somewhat surreal because after analyzing the page for about a half minute, it dawned on me. I knew this guy. I felt so dumb that I hadn’t noticed it right away. It was the guy from Al’s Hardware Store. It was Al Olson from Al’s Hardware Store! I jolted to the door, but stopped when Robbins said “Too late”. “Too late?” I questioned.

“We took a sample of Al’s DNA and compared it with the DNA that we recovered from the victims shoe, and I don’t know how but it wasn’t a match. We still have Al in custody if you want to go question him.”

How could it not be a match, we had a witness identify him and work with a facial artist and it matched. Why was this not adding up? How could our victim have been seen leaving with this guy, but he not be the killer? It was the last time she was seen, it was the night she disappeared, how could it not be him? It didn’t make any sense to me. I needed to sit down.

I went in finally after a tall glass of water to chat with Al. He wasn’t very talkative, more annoyed than anything. He said he was trying to take our victim home, but as soon as they left the bar, a gentleman approached them and the victim willingly left Al’s side and left with the new mystery man. Al hadn’t seen his face and the description he gave could have matched any male on the east coast. Needless to say it was not a very enlightening interrogation.

“His alibi seemed fishy, but I think he’s telling the truth. I mean the DNA doesn’t match.”

There wasn’t much more we could do but let Al go. In the back of my mind I was kind of glad that Al wasn’t our guy. He always gave me the employee discount whenever I shopped at his store. I guess that’s what he had to do to compete with the big franchises like Home Depot these days.

I headed home with an empty feeling in my stomach, and no it wasn’t hunger, it was the fact that another day passed and we still had a killer on the loose. It was sickening, the feeling of failure and inadequacy. Anyway it had me thinking, but I was tired so as soon as I got home I passed out. I need a good night’s rest.

 Waking up Friday morning, for some odd reason I felt refreshed. It was the first time in weeks that I might have actually gotten a good nights rest. The real reason I felt refreshed might have been because it was Friday and tomorrow was the weekend, but it was probably a combination of the two. With my wife still soundly asleep I gently rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I cut myself shaving my face. Those are the worst little cuts. They were deep and bled profusely. I didn’t want to put a bandage on my face so I just dabbed a piece of toilet paper on it and waited for the blood to coagulate and scab. I splashed water in my face, I did have bags under my eyes but I wasn’t too tired. God I looked old; my hair was already beginning to gray. The cut on my chin didn’t make me look any better. The stress from work had really taken its toll on my appearance.

I put on a pot of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to think. I must have been missing something, overlooking some detail that would break this case wide open. It seemed as though the closer we got, the further we got. It was frustrating. I sat at my table for almost an hour, blankly looking into empty space, but my mind was racing over so many details it felt like my head was going to fly off my shoulders. I snapped back into reality, I was again late for work.

During the drive to the office I just couldn’t get out of my head when that couple came and described Al to us. It was strange that they had acted so quickly in coming to the police. How did they even remember what the guy looked like? They only had a minute interaction at most. Something didn’t add up. I pulled up to the station and again it was quiet but I was expecting some development in the case.

Surprisingly Robbins didn’t have anything for me, no words just lips smacking together as he shoved two jelly-filled donuts down his throat. I sat down at my desk, leaned back, and folded my hands behind my head. As soon as I became comfortable it hit me. Why did the man that came in the other day have a band-aid on his face? Cut himself shaving? No, he had a beard. We needed to call him back in, something about that guy made me suspicious. Me and Robbins decided to make a house call.

Robbins drove, and I was in the passenger seat of his black police-issued dodge challenger. It was a nice car, surprising that this was in the budget. I joked with him in the car of a potential gun fight when we got there, but in reality it was nothing to joke about. There was a real possibility that some action would take place, but that’s what made this line of work so exciting, the danger came with the territory.

We pulled up to 86 Sycamore, the couple lived in apartment B3. Robbins knocked.

“Suffolk County Police Department open up, we just have some more questions for you two.”

There was a chance that they weren’t there, it was 10am on a Friday, surely they had somewhere to be. I tried the knob, the door was open. Cautiously, guns drawn, we entered the residence. I called out again, and again there was no response. The place was a wreck, there was broken glass all over the floor.

“It looked like Hurricane Sandy ripped through their living room,” Robbins uttered jokingly.

Just then a figure emerged from the bedroom, it was the women who had come in. She was sleepily moving towards us rubbing her eyes. I told her not to move any closer. She asked what we were doing in her apartment, and we told her we just needed to ask her and her fiancé a few more questions regarding the “Gilgo Jack” murders. She complied. Just as she was about to sit down, a noise came from behind us in the kitchen. Before I had a chance to turn around, I felt a burning sensation in my lower left back. I looked back at Robbins and he had a growing red, wet patch on his shoulder. We opened fire. As soon as I spun around, I was grazed again on the cheek. I fired two shots back at the man and hit him in the chest. He got off one last shot that hit me right in the neck, before crumbling to the floor. I hit the ground. The room was spinning. What the hell just happened? That entire moment felt like it was moving in slow motion. I thought of my wife. My field of vision was then filled entirely with Robbins who began applying pressure to my neck. It had missed my wind pipe and aorta thankfully. I was still alive but I was bleeding out, and if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital immediately then I certainly wouldn’t make it. Robbins threw me over his shoulder, fireman-carry style and began calling for backup to secure the premise. Robbins threw me in the back of his cruiser and slammed the gas.

 Its funny how the mind works. Sometimes you just can’t control your thoughts. Your conscience wanders through your mind like a lost traveler trying to find his way. I felt warm. My mind drifted to memories of when I was a kid playing at the beach. I saw my dad, he tossed me a football as I dove into the sand. I saw my mother, she was so beautiful and happy. Then I saw my kids, and when I looked to my left I saw my wife smiling. The sound of the water was so relaxing, I could practically smell the sea. I started walking towards the water, then I dove under a wave and as soon as the water hit my face I was thrown violently back into reality.

 I blacked in for a moment and looked up at a team of doctors trying to frantically save my life. The room was so bright. I was hot, but the warmth soon began to fade and I again fell unconscious.

When I finally awoke again Robbins, my wife, and my kids where there staring at me.

“I think he’s waking up! How are you feeling buddy?”

I didn’t know if I was still dreaming or not. I reached up my arm and touched my neck. It was tender and bandaged up. I was alive. My wife started to cry tears of joy, and came over hugged me and kissed me. I was definitely alive.

“Howie, you took that bullet like a champion, I thought we were gonna lose you there for a second. We got the killers, that couple that came in and identified Al, it was them working as a team to court young girls in and butcher them. You did it Howie.”

I began to cry, it was an emotional release that I was not expecting. I never cried, I hadn’t cried since my mother passed away. I was so happy to not only have closed the case but also to be able to live another day with my beautiful family. This whole time we were calling the killer “Gilgo Jack” while we should’ve been calling them “Gilgo Jack and Jill”. I faintly uttered that to Robbins, to make sure he added that in the press release. He chuckled and said, “Good to have you back Howie”.

[unofferable-fic]

Do You Fear the Devil? (Loki x Reader): 3 - Annie Chapman

Summary: You are one of the many working women roaming the streets of Whitechapel when a madman begins to murder your comrades one by one. The attacks are so gruesome, that the detectives can only describe his work as that of “a devil than of a man”. Loki Laufeyson is a Metropolitan police detective and surgeon who is assisting on the case. As more bodies pile up and you and your friends fear for your lives, the police remain well and truly stumped. When Detective Laufeyson turns to you for help to find the murderer, you must face your fears to save yourself… But who can you really trust when you are the prey being stalked at night by someone who calls himself Jack the Ripper?

Gif originally found here

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Victorian London AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries/violence, gore, language, angst.

Word Count: 5,259

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Playlist: “Let Me In, Heathcliff” — Ruth Barrett, “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” — Nirvana, “Sir Galahad” — Jason Graves, “The Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: The Swan” — Camille Saint-Saëns

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A/N: Also available on AO3. YES HELLO I AM ALIVE. I took a much needed break over Christmas and then suffered with a bit of writers block, but I am back and happy to bring another chapter to anyone still reading along. As always, any feedback at all would be much appreciated! Hearing what you guys have to say means a lot. Thanks for anyone out there in the fanfiction abyss still reading my trash <3 (Also apologies if I forgot to tag anyone who asked - I’m all over the place since my break, but feel free to hit me up if you wanna be tagged).

8th September 1888, 5.00 am.

You were out with Natasha again that night.

Given your new ‘official’ duties as police accomplices, you found yourself wandering the darkened streets every second day or so. You and Natasha didn’t mind — at least it added some entertainment to your usually boring day. It was new and exciting and even though it surrounded a very morbid subject matter, you knew your presence was helping the police. Sometimes Wanda came along for the trip, and on this occasion she was more than happy to accompany you.

“I’m not sure if this is entirely legal with regards our arrangement,” Natasha mused as the three of you left the White Swan earlier that evening. “But I was never one for following police orders anyway.”

You had seen nothing of Loki in the past week, but Steve had become a regular at the brothel — only to call you both out for some assistance of course. It somewhat reminded you of being a kid again and your friend calling to your door to ask if you would come out and play. Except this time it was the sergeant asking that you help track down a murderer… No matter how hard Natasha tried, it seemed that he simply wouldn’t take the bait and become a customer. Seeing who could make him blush more became a nice ongoing joke though… Sometimes two other PCs were in Steve’s company. You recognised them as the two constables from Bucks Row. You soon found out that they were called James Barnes and Samuel Wilson. The former was an excessive flirt, and kept requesting that you call him ‘Bucky’ for some reason. His comrade was less of a flirt but was still kind at least. He did however like to poke fun at you as well as his comrades. It seemed that Barnes and Wilson were constantly at each others throats. Their dynamic became easy to recognise — both Barnes and Wilson fought for Steve’s attention which resulted in verbal spats that drove Steve up the wall and made you laugh until you were crying.

Steve and James had called for you earlier that evening, and you used the chance to subtly enquire after Loki and his whereabouts.

“He’s the Divisional Police Surgeon,” the sergeant explained. “While we regularly patrol the streets, he is called in on specific occasions and special circumstances. He will be informed on any leads or developments that we find.”

“That’s a shame,” Natasha mused, giving your shoulder a nudge. “He was the funny one.”

While Steve rolled his eyes at this statement, James seemed amused. “Laufeyson is a funny guy.”

“And he is also Y/N’s type,” Wanda teased you with a playful grin. “Cheeky, dark, and handsome.”

James chuckled and threw his arm around your shoulders. “Not as handsome as me though, right, doll?”

You looked him up and down with the most unamused expression you could muster. “Are you making a proposition, Constable? Soliciting is illegal, you know.”

“Well looking certainly isn’t illegal, now is it?”

“We’re on the job, Buck,” Steve insisted gently, not impressed. “We should leave the ladies to it.”

Now you were strolling down Whitechapel Road early in the morning. Only drunkards and your fellow workers were about as per usual. Obviously your group was getting its usual mixed looks of distain and curiosity. Unfortunately for those who inquired, you had to turn them down. Under Steve’s strict instructions, you were to dismiss half of your clientele in order to spend more time with your eyes peeled for any weirdos or suspicious looking men. He had agreed to fund the lost wages so you weren’t exactly complaining about the arrangement. If you did happen to stumble across someone that took your interest for all the wrong reasons, Steve asked you to note as much about him as you could before politely declining him. As long as they had a description to go off, they were happy. He also completely discouraged any sort of ‘vigilantism’, although you weren’t against the idea. Wanda and Nat also loved the sound of such a thing.

“So if we find the man who killed Mary Ann,” Wanda began, linking her arm with yours. “Does that mean we get to kick his face in?”

“Most definitely yes,” you replied. “And then we can hand him over to Stevie with a lovely bloody face.”

“Oh the sergeant would just love that,” Natasha chuckled, grinning at the thoughts of revenge. “Although they might try to slap us with an assault charge.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. “They wouldn’t dare! Not when we handed them a murderer on a plate.”

Suddenly, Wanda veered off towards a portico, dragging out with her as she greeted another woman. “Annie, darling, are you alright?”

Leaning against one of the pillars within the portico stood a woman who looked worse for wear. Annie, as Wanda called her, seemed older than the three of you, and was short and stout in appearance. Blue eyes were hidden behind weary and hooded lids. On the right side of her face was a nasty bruise and there was no doubt in your mind that she was ill. She was dressed in mostly muted brown and black tones, which made a red and white neckerchief tied around her neck stand out all the more.

“Wanda Maximoff?” Annie wheezed, smiling faintly as she looked at the younger worker. “My, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s only been a few weeks, don’t be so overdramatic.” Wanda smiled before gesturing to you and Natasha. “These are my friends, Y/N and Natasha. They work in the White Swan with me. Ladies, this is Annie. We used to share lodgings on Dorset Street before I came to the brothel.”

The pair of you greeted Annie, who seemed friendly despite the fact she was worse for wear. “Nice to meet you ladies, although I wish we could meet when I was in a better state.”

“What happened to you?” you asked her with genuine concern.

“Oh, this thing?” She pointed to the large bruise on her face. “If you think that’s bad, you should see the one on my chest. Just had a small disagreement with someone in the Britannia pub.”

Natasha spoke without hesitation.  “Give us their name and we shall sort them out.”

“Do not worry yourself over it, ladies.” With a wheeze, Annie pushed herself upright and gritted her teeth in pain. “I refuse to spend another minute thinking on her. She is not worth it.”

“You should not be out here if you are unwell, Annie,” Wanda insisted, helping to keep her steady with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should go to the casual ward and get yourself looked at.”

“You are very pale,” you noted. “Wanda is right. You should be resting instead of wandering around out here.”

“Ah, I already went to the ward and picked up some medicine. It doesn’t feel like it has done much for me though… But I need money for my lodgings, so I’m trying to earn a few coins out here while I still can. I told the keeper to hold a bed for me and that I would be back shortly. It’s no use giving way, I must pull myself together and get some money or I shall have no lodgings.”

“How much do you need?” Wanda asked, reaching for her purse.

When Annie saw you and Natasha also going for your purses, she waved a hand at you dismissively. “I will not have any of you spending your hard earned money on an old bat like me.”

“We have to look out for each other,” Natasha hushed her. “No one else is going to do it.”

You nodded in agreement. “Especially with all the attacks of late.”

Between the you, Natasha, and Wanda, you happily handed the downtrodden woman enough money to secure her lodgings for the evening. She took it, but only when the latter gave her a very adamant look. With a sigh, she allowed the assistance, but looked almost ashamed for taking it.

“You lot are too good. You deserve better than being out here and working on these awful streets.”

“Don’t we all,” Wanda chuckled and took hold of her friend’s hand. “Take care, Annie. And don’t spend it all on rum, alright?”

The women promised she wouldn’t before she said her goodbyes and took her leave. You watched her wobble away, hoping that she would get better soon. You had originally offered to walk her back to her lodgings, but she refused and insisted that she would take no more of your time and get there herself. You didn’t like or agree with the idea of course, but there was simply no arguing with her.

Wanda was perturbed with the encounter but said little more about it, other than explaining how she had first met Annie some time ago. She briefly mentioned that she was a friendly, steady-going woman, but she had a fondness for rum and sometimes struggled with avoiding it.

After the encounter, you continued on your way for some time. Between chatting up men who showed interest and keeping a watchful eye on your friends, you did your best to spot any shady-looking characters, but found none. You even bumped into Scott while on your travels and paused to chat with him. He was sitting with a group of friends in the Ten Bells Pub and seemed happy to see you again. You were somewhat thankful that he didn’t ask after services from any of you — saying no to him felt similar to kicking a defenceless puppy.

At 5.30, the three of you regrouped with PC Barnes on the corner of Commercial Street and Whitechapel Road. Each night you had to meet with one of the PCs and inform them of any findings or interesting encounters. It also ensured them that nothing had happened to you while out and about. You weren’t waiting there long before he appeared.

“Evening, ladies,” PC Barnes greeted you upon his arrival. “Are you aware that soliciting is illegal? I am going to need you lot to move it.”

“Sod off, Barnes,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I am too tired to be dealing with you right now.”

He feigned offence and placed a hand on his chest as though his heart ached with your rash words. “What is it going to take for you to call me Bucky?”

“What the hell is a Bucky?” Wanda asked, causing you all to laugh.

“And who the hell are you?” he asked her with an award-winning smile. “You shouldn’t be out with them.”

“I do not take orders from mutton shunters, so I go wherever I please, Constable.”

Despite the banter, PC Barnes couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I think I have my work cut out for me with you lot. But I do need you to come with me to the station. Steve wants a full report of your evening.”

“Can we not do the in the morning?” you asked, already feeling exhaustion setting in.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not, doll. The Sergeant wants you all to make reports while the details are fresh in your heads. His orders — not mine!”

“He is lucky he is a good looking man who pays well,” Natasha grumbled as PC Barnes led you all towards the police station. “Otherwise I would end this charade right now.”

Barnes chuckled as he walked. “I shall let Stevie know that you think he is handsome.”

“Oh trust me, he is already well aware, Constable.”

Although you had very little issue with walking along the streets at night — you were well used to it and had certainly been through harder times — the company of a policeman wasn’t entirely disconcerting. If anything, it added an extra layer of protection to the group. You noticed that no one said a word to you as he lead you down to the nearby station. Instead, he chatted idly with you all, unfazed by the looks he was receiving due to his company. At one point, he told one particularly bothered man, who insisted on glaring at the with all his might, to ‘sod off’. You were beginning to think that you might like PC Barnes, even if he did do your head in.

Upon arrival at Commercial Street Police Station, you and your friends were eagerly swept into the back offices, passing by the policemen at the front desk who questioned PC Barnes about his company.

“They are with me, Happy,” he stated simply as he ushered you away from their curious eyes. “Is Sgt Rogers about?”

The policeman called Happy gestured behind him. “He’s in the back with Inspector Stark and Chief Inspector Strange.”

“Strange is back?”

“Indeed. He got back from his holidays today and came here as soon as he could.”

“What an unusual last name,” Wanda mused. “Do either of you know the inspectors?”

Natasha shook her head, as did you. “I can’t say that I have ever met them before.”

Though miffed by the news of the Chief Inspector’s arrival, PC Barnes tried to stay positive for your sakes. “Well you are about to now, ladies. Follow me.”

The further into the station you went, the easier it was to hear the arguing going on in one of the back rooms. Soon you arrived at an occupied office which belonged to an Inspector Anthony Edward Stark according to the label on the open door. You had never met the man before, but you had heard a few of your fellow workers say that he was quite the character — confident, flirtatious, charming, sarcastic. These were all qualities you didn’t exactly expect to find in an inspector, but you assumed he must be good at his leadership role if he was the head of the division.

PC Barnes stood in the open doorway, waiting for whatever conversation was happening to die down before announcing his arrival. Overwhelmed with curiosity, you peaked over his broad shoulders and saw two men locked in an intense conversation in front of a desk while Sgt Rogers stood off to the side with his arms folded across his chest.

“I do not care what Fury told you,” one man argued, looking quite perturbed with his colleague. “This is my case and I am in charge. Believe me when I say that we don’t need any assistance from you, Strange.”

The man you assumed to be Chief Inspector Strange appeared indifferent. He was clearly a proud man in the way he held himself and insisted on standing tall as he spoke. He listened intently, not at all bothered by the other man’s visible distaste in his presence. You didn’t recognise him at all, despite his unconventional facial hair and silver tinted locks. “How unfortunate when you must take direct orders from the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, and it is he who has given me the task of collating all the facts on the case. I would much rather be on my holiday than cleaning up your mess, Stark, but evidently you need me.”

Inspector Stark looked appalled by the choice of words. “Evidently?”

“Well you have two dead dollymops and a murderer who is fond of disembowelment running about. Would you consider the situation under control?”

Despite the situation being laid out before him, Inspector Stark pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We are understaffed. I am doing what I can with the men I have. Do you think I like the thought of women getting disembowelled on my time?”

“I think you are unwilling to admit you need my help. How do you fit that head of yours into your helmet, I wonder?”

“Look, Sherlock—!”

“That is enough,” Steve cut in, stepping between the men before anything else kicked off. “We are on the same team here. There is no need for arguments!”

“It is very hard to control myself when his face is so punchable,” Inspector Stark grumbled. “He is smugness personified! With terrible facial hair!”

“We have company, Tony,” Steve replied, nodding to the door where James, Natasha, Wanda, and you stood waiting awkwardly.

Inspector Stark turned to the door with a tired expression, which quickly turned to confusion when he noticed you and your friends. “Barnes, I have no idea why you are standing in my office with expensive company, but I do know that you are one lady short of a party.”

“They are here on a different kind of business, Inspector,” Bucky elaborated and stepped inside. He motioned for you and your friends to enter, so you obeyed without argument. “Business of the investigative kind.”

Natasha stepped around him, obviously eager to speak for herself. “What Bocky means to say is—”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, yes, of course. What he means is that we are your new Assistant Detectives, Inspector.”

You noticed the deep furrow in Chief Inspector Strange’s brow as he gave Inspector Stark a very serious side-eye stare.

Stark’s brown eyes wandered over you curiously before he looked at your comrades in a similar manner. “I thought you said you recruited two ladies, Rogers?”

“I did,” Steve reassured him and pointed at Wanda. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, I recruited myself,” Wanda shrugged, unthreatened by neither their rank or the formal setting. “Do not worry yourselves about it.”

“Steve tends to worry a lot.” Inspector Stark offered you his hand. “Inspector Anthony Edward Stark, but feel free to call me Tony.”

You shook his hand, surprised to find that you sensed nothing bad or unsettling about this man. He seemed quite genuine somehow. “Y/N, nice to meet you, Sir.”

He grimaced at the title. “I insist that you call me Tony. ‘Sir’ makes me feel like an old man who needs to retire.”

You smiled slightly at his tone. “Tony it is then.”

He was certainly everything you would never expect in an Inspector, and you already liked him better for it.

As he introduced himself to Natasha and Wanda and got their names in return, Chief Inspector Strange shook his head and cut across the conversation. “Why are these women claiming to be Assistant Detectives?”

“Because Sarge and Edgar Allen Poe thought we could use the extra woman power, and I agreed. I did not really have much time to argue against it, considering they made the decision before asking for my permission.”

“Edgar Allen Poe?” you muttered, looking at Bucky.

“Loki,” he explained. “Stark is fond of nicknames.”

“This is hardly orthodox,” the Chief Inspector continued, squinting his eyes in frustration. “And it is hardly Dr Laufeyson’s decision to make.”

Natasha let out a sigh. “Sorry, who are you? I did not catch your name when introductions were being made.”

Momentarily insulted by her brash tone, the older man turned to face them. “I am Chief Inspector Stephen Strange and I am in charge of this investigation by the order of Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Sir Nicholas Fury.”

You looked back at him in amusement, unimpressed by the excessive titles. It meant little to you and it wasn’t about to mean anything to you now. “Oh, fancy.”

“Uh, I think you mean co-charge,” Tony pointed out. “We have co-ownership of this investigation. Somewhat like a married couple.”

“Not by Fury’s orders—”

“Yes, well, this is my division and these men have followed my orders for some time. Look, Strange, I will admit it — even if it might cause my ego to burst at the seams — that we need more numbers to help with this investigation. It is why we have these women in our company. I will take your help if I must, but we need to work together if we are to achieve anything.”

“He’s right, Chief Inspector,” Steve added. “The only way to tackle this is as a team. If we work as such, we can get it done before anymore lives are lost. Arguing is wasting what precious time we have.”

“I love when Steve agrees with me,” Tony said to you, looking somewhat bewildered. “He never usually does and he is exceedingly righteous, so I must be in the right thus time…”

“Fine then,” Strange huffed and held up his hands in defeat. “Have it your way, Stark, but know that I do not like the fact that they will be joining this investigation. I will be having words with Dr Laufeyson about this.”

“We are involved whether you like it or not, Chief Inspector,” Natasha said coldly. “So your approval means very little to us.”

“A bit of respect would not go amiss though,” you added. “As Steve said, we are all on the same team.”

“And what a team we shall make,” Stark said with his arms outstretched. “As long as we catch this bastard soon, I will be happy.” Without much thought, the inspector reached into his vest pocket, taking out a halfpenny, and then dropping it into a jar on his desk that was already half filled with coins. Steve looked somewhat pleased with the gesture.

Strange shook his head. “I shall still be having words with Laufeyson.”

“You mean Edgar Allen Poe?” you asked before looking to Tony for an explanation.

He shrugged in reply. “He’s mopey and reads a lot, alright?”

Before anyone else could get a word in, Happy — the policeman who had been manning the front desk — came bursting in the door.

“Inspector,” he spluttered, out of breath and wide eyed. “A man just came in and claims there has been another murder!”

Whatever hopeful tone that had previously filled the room was extinguished with this unfortunate news. Your stomach tumbled and you looked to your two friends to see their equally horrified expressions.

“Where?” Stark demanded, already pulling on his coat.

“29 Hanbury Street!”

Instantly the room sprung into action.

The men were all pulling on coats and sprinting out the door in no time. Stark was busy ordering them around while Strange got a head start and was already following Happy out the office door. You and your comrades looked on in stunned silence as everyone got to work.

Before he left, Steve urged the three of you to follow him. “Look alive, ladies. We are needed at the scene.”

“Time to go,” you muttered and followed them out into the cold London streets. Just before exiting the building, you caught a quick glance at the man who sounded the alarm — he stood next to Happy, struggling to speak with an ashen face and tired eyes. God only knows what kind of scene he had stumbled upon that early in the morning.

Outside, Tony was quickly owning his role as Inspector. “Rogers, I want you to head to Spitalfields Market now. Wilson is stuck on fixed point duty there. Pick him up and head over to 29 Hanbury Street together. Make sure you check the side streets and alleys in case the suspect is nearby — he might still be close. The rest of you, come with Strange and I directly to the scene. Ladies, we might need you to identify the victim so be prepared.”

You momentarily thanked your past self for choosing to wear flats that evening, as you hadn’t exactly expected to be sprinting through the streets towards what would probably be a crowded murder scene. While the cool air burned your throat as you took swift gulps, your legs ached in protest as your body tried to overcome its exhaustion. Now, with it being shortly after 6.00 am, the sun rose in the distance, colouring the overcast sky in blues and pinks as London came to life again. It was quite a sight, one that would surely contrast with the horrors ahead.

At Hanbury Street, a curious crowd of onlookers had already gathered. Steve and Samuel were nowhere in sight, so Strange and Stark quickly got to forcing their way through the spectators. Bucky followed them next, then you, Natasha, and Wanda coming up the rear. With the policemen already making a path or you, it meant wading your way through the spectators was much more manageable. At least you could refrain from slapping people out of your way.

As you breached the crowd and finally got a good luck at the scene, your eyes rest on the sight before you. A body lay in the garden of number 29, partially against the wooden fencing. Strange and Stark stood over her while Bucky forced the rambunctious crowd back as best as he could with no back up. While you halted nervously in your tracks at the sight of a corpse, Wanda flew over to join the inspectors.

She took one look at the body before she covered her mouth with her hands and let out a desperate gasp. Upon seeing your friend in distress, you and Natasha were quickly at her side.

“It is Annie!” she proclaimed as you joined her. “Y/N, it is Annie! She’s dead!”

You met her shocked eyes with your own before you looked down at the victim. Sure enough, you recognised the red and white neckerchief, now matted with thick, fresh bloodstains. Annie Chapman’s throat had been savagely slit.

“You know her?” Strange asked, eyes darting between you.

“Wanda does,” Natasha explained solemnly, eyes fixed on the dead woman. “Her name is Annie Chapman.”

“We lived in the same lodging house on Dorset Street before I became a resident at the White Swan,” Wanda said, unable to look at her fallen friend any longer. You wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder as Stark asked her for the address of the lodging house. “Crossingham's Lodging House at 35 Dorset Street.”

“You have our condolences, ladies,” Strange said with the first ounce of genuine compassion you had seen from him all morning. “But your assistance is greatly appreciated.”

At that moment, Steve and Samuel came tumbling through the crowd. Seeing that more of his men had arrived, Stark jumped into action once more. “Rogers, I need you to help contain the crowd here — there are way too many people around at the moment. Wilson, I need you to run back to the station to get reinforcements — if this crowd keeps building, we shan’t be able to contain it. Barnes, take Y/N and go fetch Dr Laufeyson. I need him here now.”

“Why me?” you asked, unwilling to leave a visibly distressed Wanda behind.

As Steve and Samuel got to work, Tony turned to you with a sympathetic expression. “It is important that at least one of you ladies familiarises yourself with where Loki resides. You might need to fetch him yourself one day. Trust me, knowing where a doctor lives when you are hunting a murderer could save your life or someone else’s.” He threw a glance at your friends and lowered his voice. “Do not worry — they are in safe hands, I promise you, alright?”

With a sigh you nodded and turned to stand by the waiting Bucky’s side. “Lead the way, Barnes.”

* * *

8th September 1888, 6.15 am.

The calming music of Camille Saint-Saëns rang out through Loki Laufeyson’s residence at 2 Spital Square in Whitechapel. Sleep eluded him yet again, and he found himself staring at his reflection in the steam-covered mirror in his bathroom. He wondered whether he could somehow hide the bags under his eyes after another sleepless night. He supposed that the thin cut on his cheekbone was more obvious than the drowsy eyes, but he most certainly couldn’t cover that detail. Dressed in merely his flannel drawers, he tried to tame his wet and messy hair so that he looked somewhat presentable for the day ahead. Even if any of his colleagues or patients did notice how tired he looked, he doubted any of them would press him too much. He was quite popular amongst his patients though, but he put that down to his ability to charm them with honeyed words and a flashy smile.

As long as no one asked too much he should be able to ignore their concerns.

As he splashed water on to his face in an attempt to wash away his groggy appearance, a loud knocking sounded from his front door. With a glance over his shoulder, he noted it to be too early for visitors.

I am not due in work until 7… What in the bloody hell—?

“Shit,” he said and quickly hurried to his bedroom to make himself decent and shut off the music box. As he reefed on a pair of trousers, the knocking persisted downstairs.

He cursed again as the muffled voice of PC Barnes came through the door. “Loki? It’s me, Bucky! Open the bloody door!”

With a growl, Loki stumbled down the stairs with only one arm through his shirt sleeves. With his free arm he unlocked the door and swung it open. He had been expecting the constable, he was not prepared to see Miss Y/L/N also standing on his doorstep.

“Bad time?” PC Barnes teased, noting his state of undress.

“What do you think?” Loki snapped, pushing his hair off his face.

Upon pushing away the hair, he inadvertently revealed the fresh cut on his cheek, and PC Barnes was quick to frown. “What happened to you?”

“Some bludger tried to rob me,” he replied gruffly. “So I made sure all he got was a black eye.”

“You can’t seem to stay out of mischief, can you?” It seemed that Barnes was eager to annoy him further, even with his bruised face. “And you know better than to dress so suggestively in front of a lady.”

“It is nothing I have not seen before,” she assured him, obviously trying her best to look at his face rather than his bare chest and abdomen. “Have you forgotten my line of work?”

He wasn’t exactly sure why, but Loki felt a small sense of pride knowing that he had such an effect on her, especially considering she was no prude or stranger to nudity. He supposed that being ogled by a beautiful woman was something to be pleased about, and he put his reaction down to that observation alone.

“Is it another one?” Loki asked them, looking between the pair as he shrugged his shirt on and began to button it up.

James nodded. “Over on Hanbury Street. Stark sent us to pick you up and bring you over.

With a heavy sigh, the doctor opened his front door a little wider. “Come inside while I gather my things. I will only be a moment.”

With the constable and the street-walker now waiting anxiously in his hallway, Loki quickly ran up the stairs again and gathered his equipment in a rush, all while preparing himself for another grisly scene and body to investigate. Before he joined them downstairs, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror again, now fully dressed and ready to go. He looked rough, that was for sure. He hoped that Inspector Stark would not press him about his appearance and would simply let him do his job without being disturbed.

I suppose at least I can do so in the company of a pretty woman, he thought and took a deep breath before joining said woman and the constable once more. That is, at least, a small consolation.

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