Realistic or Modern Of Monsters and Men (and somewhere-in-betweens)

[MePersonally]

Prologue:

She woke up, sweating, in the dark. The first thing she felt was cold, dry and muffled cold, like in an old building, where the heating doesn't work properly. The sweat on her skin seemed to freeze and... her clothes, where were her clothes?! As she slowly came to realise that she was naked, she also started hearing something. Tap, tap, tap... rain. Raindrops, falling onto a metal roof. "Help-" The words didn't reach beyond her vocal chords, as only a sharp hiss exited her mouth.
Tap, tap, tap.
It wasn't water, was it? The rhythm was too steady, too calm. She opened her eyes. Had they been closed? Why? Where was she?
Darkness. She didn't see anything, but it felt wrong. Like she should be able to see, like something was covering her eyes. What the hell was this?
Something passed her mind- a thought?Or a vision? A face, pain... She reached back to her head, where the sudden pounding sensation came from. Lifting her arms from over her head seemed harder than it was supposed to be, it all felt wrong, so wrong.
As she examined the top of her skull, it became clear to her that the pain originated from a wound, right on top of her head. She groaned.
Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.
Footsteps this time, light turning on, a familiar voice, even though she felt like she wasn't actually hearing it.
Silence. A laugh. The question was repeated.
"Do you know where you are?"
She tried to talk again, but the only thing that escaped her lips was a stream of hair, turning into a hiss.
"Oh, that's right..." The footsteps came closer, into her frame of sight. Two perfectly cleaned black leather boots, walking on the ceiling. Upside-down...
Tap, tap, tap... More drops falling.
"Interesting, though. Don't you think?", the voice kept mumbling.
With another groan, she tried to communicate her pain, but the other person seemed unimpressed. The world grew blurrier, so even though she was now able to make out a room and walls, nothing seemed to make sense anymore. She licked her dry lips, as suddenly something dripped onto her tongue. The taste of rusty iron, warm against the cold air around her.
"Even though you've lost a lot of blood, you're still conscious."
Panic welled up in her, as something tugged on her legs and she felt a steady body behind her. As the blade hit her juglar, she realized what was happening. She screamed, but it was only a breath.
The tapping had turned into dripping and the young woman's body tangled from the rope on the ceiling. Silence emerged, after the light was turned off and the door closed- the body waiting to be discovered.

 

[MePersonally]

1st Chapter: Knowlege and power

Sometimes, people didn't even know how annoying they could be. Hannah was convinced of that, when she walked out of a congress meeting after sitting through the whole four hours. Surely, they didn't mean to discuss every aspect of their personal lives with their colleagues, but somehow, it always happened. Keeping a professional smile over the need to get away from those people, she let her eyes wander around the small buffet that everyone was heading towards.
Pathetic, like birds after the grain, they went and stuffed the food into them. With a slight upwelling of disgust, she followed, keeping her distance far enough so they didn't touch her, but staying close enough so she would still be considered part of the group if someone looked at them. She tucked at her blouse, as suddenly a pleasant piece of music broke the silence. If she had ever been grateful for her phone to ring, it was in this exact moment. If she hadn't felt the urgency to get out of the room for a while, she probably wouldn't have looked at the screen of the small device, but it seemed like a calling, when she excused herself and let the glass door fall shut behind her.
It was the chief of police, by far one of the least expected callers that could have saved her from the necessity of being where she was right now. Work for her, a case. A series of murder in the small town that she lived in. Amused, she listened to him explain the modus operandi.
It wasn't like she didn't already know that there was a serial killer in the general area, but they just wanted her opinion on the murders. A personal favor to the chief of police was asked. It could be coincidence after all...
No coincidences, jus well planned interferences.
"Well, I would have to take a look at the crime scene, first...", she stalled, knowing that she would be on her way home in about 20 minutes. She would have to excuse herself from that in fact very dull congress of psychiatrists and she had a great reason to do so- she would be consulting a case.

The ride home was short and pleasant, as she was really looking forward to seeing one of the crime scenes first hand. Since the media weren't very reliable sources, when it came to a series of deaths and often made up questionable details, nothing was as thrilling as looking at the work of art itself, the blood and the arrangement. There was so much to read between the lines, like in a good book.

Approximately an hour later, she was walking through the empty warehouse of a butcher. The prodution had been shut down, when they had found a body hanging from the ceiling, throat open and blood still dripping. It must have happened shortly before the opening hours, between four and six o'clock in the morning. What a great place to dump a body - what a nice metaphor. The pig had been slaughtered and was now ready to be found. She was the thrid victim of this kind, left to bleed out in meat factories. Someone wanted to send a message.
"Anger. It's a personal connection. Or at least an emotional one", she stated, as the investigating detective looked at her inquisitively. Then she turned and left, looking over the crime scene on more time. On the way out, she passed a group of people in suits. One of them flashed their badge at her. What the hell was the FBI doing here?

 

[SpazTheButcher]

"Ray Person, F-B-I." A tall man yelled, waving his metal badge and inserting his authority, "This scene is ours now." It was almost as if he didn't expect everyone to identify him by his "FBI" marked windbreaker. Ray knew that the "alphabet agencies", as he liked to call them, easily intimidated smaller groups and local agencies. He watched as his guys began funneling the local cops out, papers were handed over, and cameras were given to the forensic analysts.

"You too miss. We got this under control." He said to the lady who, for some reason, he couldn't place in the department. Who the hell was she? She wasn't a detective, he could tell that by the way she moved. He wasn't a mind reader or a psychologist, but he knew a cop when he saw one, and she wasn't one.

 

[themagnoliaofutah]

The two friends stood towards the back of the group, one dressed rather out of place in a neon pink windbreaker, texting furiously on her phone. "Listen, I know it's a just-in-case thing, but c'mon - I could be halfway through lunch right now! Well, late lunch. Still-"

Aspen sighed, placing a hand on their friend's shoulder to interrupt her. "...always time for that later. We need to have you around in case of tech involvement. And you need time around something that isn't your video games."

"Whatever. Just hand me whatever camera you wanna see through."

 

[Bugsy]

He had been halfway through giving a presentation on the psychopathology of serial killers, the tenth one of the month. Perhaps it had been the media who had renewed interest in the subject - no - it was exactly what had caused it. Serial killers were no doubt a morbid thought but among the BAU and all associating universities and schools, Thomas had found it one of the many focal points that students wanted to learn about. However, it was the interruption of his phone going off informing him of another crime scene that they had been called in on, so he excused himself and had Professor Muller take over the presentation to finish off. It was a breath of air to walk out of the lecture room, downstairs to the awaiting black SUV of his to drive on over to the crime scene.

There was no judgement as he pulled on up outside the gathering crowd; media circling like the vultures that they were, some noticing another car and some continuing to hound the other agents and police officers who were in charge of crowd control. Thomas observed for a moment, watching the crowd dynamics as they shifted as the FBI got down to work before stepping out of his own vehicle.

"Is there anything at the moment that you can--"

Thomas walked on past the journalist, offering a gesture which would eventually translate to: not right now as he presented his badge to the officer at the cordon. He took a moment to look around, the building; an empty warehouse which had belonged to a butchers it seemed. Further in he would find the body, though it seemed others had been at it first. He noticed a woman on the scene walking away from them, and whilst it would have been in his jurisdiction to stop her; but his attention had been drawn to a uniformed cop who had turned rather green at the gills as she scarpered off as to not contaminate the crime scene. Then it was to the body which hung from meat hooks, flies already buzzing around the body.

Hung like meat, killed like meat.

Symbolism.

Nice.

He turned, pivoting slightly on his heels as he stepped back three paces. There had to be a reasoning behind the staging, a motive. This was a serial killer's work; he remembered working on something similar to this one previously. Or at the very least had been mentioned in passing through the many cases the BAU were sifting through.

"Anyone fill me in on what's happened?"

 

[KaigerGalaxy]

Spoiler: I'm not a policeman

I'm a senior in high school, and planning on becoming a policeman, but I'm not there yet, so I'm most likely going to miss some things or get parts wrong, so please bare with me-

James stared at the mess of papers on his desk with a glare of disinterest, something the poor papers were probably used to. At least he was being paid to do paperwork, perhaps if school did the same he would've at least pretended to care about showing up. wiggling the mechanical pencil between his fingers, James prayed for something interesting to happen, to put off writing words for a hot second. Within seconds, his prayers were answered. James was quick to jump up from his desk, accidentally scattering papers all over the floor, which he had to take time to pick up and set back on his desk before heading out.

His car, a black and blue 2018 Honda civic, sat nicely parked in the parking lot of the station, right where James had left it. He was always worried his car would be somewhere else, like one spot over from where he parked it, even though that had never happened before. Was he always this suspicious and skeptical? Yes, yes he was. Nodding to himself, James clicked a button on his key fob and unlocked the driver's side door. The inside was an accurate representation of his mind, cluttered as hell, but he knew where everything was. It wasn't dirty, but could stand to be cleaned out. Keys in the ignition, a twist, and off he goes. Cranking the volume on his cd, James blocked out any random thoughts and focused on the details he was given before he left.

As he came up on the scene, James lowered the volume and searched for somewhere to park. God, why were there so many people?? With a sigh, he put his car in park and to the key as he stepped out, making sure to lock it. He ignored the journalists and reporters, squeezing past the growing crowd and making his way into the warehouse. He had his badge in hand, ready to tell someone he was, indeed, an officer despite his attire.

The body hung, strung up like a deer in a garage. Though it would would be more appropriate to compare this scenario to a pig; throat cut open to let the blood drain out. The sight of blood didn't bother him, it was seeing inside the woman's neck that got him. He took a deep breath, blinked a few times, and was ready to go. Wait-- The FBI? 'Why would the feds be here?' James was confused, was there a federal offense he didn't know about? Even with them here, he had a job to do. He looked around, taking notes of everything he saw, everything he thought would be important.

"Anyone fill me in on what's happened?" He heard from nearby, breaking his focus. James looked over to the man who had spoken. He was tall, almost half a foot taller than James. With just a glance, he could tell the man was FBI.

"Yeah, I could," He said confidently, walking over to close the gap. "A murder that seems to be a part of a series of murders. The victim is presumably knocked out, then stripped and hung like an animal. Each one took place in some sort of meat processing or storage building. Then the throat is slit and the body is left to be found." He kept it short and sweet, not wanting to end up on a huge rant. If the man requested more, he'd give more.