Black Webs

War Of Hearts

Your past-times consisted of the strange,
and twisted and deranged,
and I love that little game you had called
crying lightning.

xxxxx

t w e l v e:

S t i l e s

He stopped by the police station after he'd showered and gotten dressed.

He strolled through the station until he got to his father's office door, the one with Sheriff Stilinski embossed in shiny silver cursive. He knocked twice. "Come in," emanated a stressed voice from inside. Stiles stepped in, softly shutting the door behind him.

"I come bearing tacos!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm immediately diminishing once he saw the state his father was in. He was swarmed with paper work, sitting in the midst of a sea of files and highlighters.

John Stilinski barely spared a glance at his son, rubbing his temple irritably. "We're beginning to worry about our containment system. Prisoners just keep disappearing from their cells... If I don't find a solution to this chaos soon, I'm going to be in trouble," his father didn't say it, but Stiles knew 'getting in to trouble' didn't mean being shunned to go to a corner or being suspended from duty, 'trouble' was police speak for getting fired.

Stiles placed the bag of food on the table and narrowed his eyes, skimming through some of the files spread out across the table. "They won't fire you," Stiles gulped. "They can't."

Mr. Stilinski shrugged, "They definitely can. I can't even blame them. I'm failing my duty..."

"Dad," Stiles muttered sharply. "You're doing your job perfectly fine. You're just..."

"I'm in a slump,"

"You are not in a slump. This case is just a bit tougher to crack than the rest. You're stuck in a conundrum. A very temporary conundrum. You're respected in the force, you've been working for them for ever since I can remember, I'm sure they wouldn't do that to you..."

Stiles wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself, or his father.

"Don't worry, son. We'll figure things out. I promise, we'll be fine. Now you get to tell me why your butt's not in school," John said, whirling the subject.

Stiles grimaced. "I woke up late?"

"Go. To. School." He ordered. "Let me handle the police work,"

"Dad. I... uh, I'll admit I've been on the scent of this case myself. Don't kill me. Listen. I just wanna help. In every way I can. You have to keep your job, alright? Plus, we've solved tons of cases together. You know I'm good at this Sherlock stuff. Anyway... I may have gotten a lead. I'll tell you about it, but first I need to confirm this piece of information... Can you let me take a peek at those records?" he babbled, grinning stupidly and sheepishly.

The Sheriff glared at him with an expression made of ice for a long time before finally complying. "Fine. Just this once because I'm having trouble with this case," he muttered dejectedly.

"Yes!" Stiles grinned, pumping a fist in the air.

"So a friend of mine was recently attacked by one of those... creatures that are running rampant on the city. Of the supernatural variety." Stiles added. Mr. Stilinski looked dubious, he was having a hard time buying all the supernatural stuff, but he nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"Or in this case, two of those. They were twins. I... uh, I need to know if there are any records on a duo of crazy killer twins having recently vanished from their jail cells."