"Do ya? Do ya? Do ya? Now, do you think you love me, Mary Jane?"
Mysterious murders beyond the understanding of science and the human brain are uncovered in the deepest, darkest parts of the deep south-following the rest of the world. Detective duo...
WORD COUNT: 5.8K TW: thriller with a dab of horror, cursing, blood, graphic depictions of dead bodies.
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"WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF A VICIOUS ENEMY SUDDENLY STARTED RUNNING AT YOU, ARMED TO THE TEETH AND READY TO KILL YOU?"
— BIG L. | THE ENEMY
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It had been a long time since he experienced weather this harsh on his milky skin, reminiscing back to the days he'd been stationed in countries with death-promising climates. The white turban wrapped to protect his inky, greasy hair from burning up like fried bacon on a skillet sat comfortably on his head. Much contrary to the soft fabric dressed on his crown, the rest of his body only felt tiny rocks of the gritty sand infiltrating his most intimate parts (that he couldn't get out due to the intricate clothing he decorated himself in).
Unfortunately, it was necessary to wear modest clothing over every piece of visible skin in the driest desert known to man—even when the young boy wanted nothing more than to jump in the nearest oasis and swim butt-naked for hours until he resembled a raisin. On the bright side to wearing lengthy clothes, he wouldn't leave this country with life-threatening skin conditions; on the downside, he was drenched in his own sweat from head-to-toe with a low supply of water he had to consume sparingly.
Confident and far too overbearing winds passed through his body and even caused his position atop the local camel to sway from its rigid posture. Gritty sand that the wind picked up to toss around and create new hills threatened to spill in his eyes. They watered enough to fill a tub with a salty liquid, but the hanging mesh from the borrowed turban covered all the sensitive parts so he could continue throughout the desert in search of his target.
Wet sage, Petrichor—the two main scents Yuta has been inhaling for days now. It almost resembled a scent similar to the one back home, soothing his nerves from being out in such an unfamiliar country. It must've just rained a couple of days ago, for the sand beneath them had long since dried, yet it smelled like several pounds of sage had been doused in water just two hours ago. The earth-like petrichor in the air was strong—too strong for his taste. If he wasn't sweating his entire physique off and had a gigantic A.C. unit in the middle of the desert, he just might've mistaken this place for home. The boy, however, knew better than to misinterpret such a deadly mission for 'home'.
