It was a night just like any other. The breeze was slightly chilling and the trees danced in its influence. The lovely wind of Autumn, and with it the young lovers under every tree, in every shop, every corner, and every other secluded place. The very time of year that Harold Pryce hated most. He walked down the street not even looking at them, talking under his breath in disgust.
"Damn young people... " looking up for a moment, he saw nothing but black suddenly overtake his vision, then a sharp impact on the back of his head, and then nothing.
He awoke in a dimly lit room, strapped down to what, after a few seconds of inspection, seemed to be a gurney. He tried to break himself free but it proved futile and he could do nothing more than scream and shout trying to gain someone's attention. He heard a door open directly behind him, and then shut. Slowly some footsteps approached him an then soon a tall ominous figure loomed over his restrained body.
" Good evening Mr. Pryce, good to see you're awake...." the voice rambled on in medical pleasantry and nonchalance, though Harold could not fight the feeling he was in the presence of death itself.
"We'll begin the procedure by injecting you with some Succinylcholine. This will prevent any movement while we can both savour the pain." He spoke as he acted," Now I'll make an incision at the joint of your pelvis and your left femur, like this" Thomas shouted out in pain like he's never felt before his blood shot out of his leg like a burst pipe, but the man's steady hand didn't waver until the leg was almost separated from his body. "And now I use this small saw and cut through the bone," the screams never stopped, they got louder and louder but no one heard him no one came to his rescue.
"What kinda sick-ass shit is happening in this town!! This is the fourth one this month. Arms and legs cut off, heart removed.. doc says it happened when the guy was alive for goodness sake. Only thing left is to stuff the damn arm up his ass!!!!!!!!!!" Capt. Tony Michaels was disgusted. His town was tearing itself up in terror from these gruesome murders, he tried everything he could, patrols, searches, complete lock-down in some areas, but nothing worked. " I want this son of a bitch off my streets!!!!!!!" he said as he sent away the preliminary patrol squad to the area. He sat back in his chair, took the brandy and a glass out of his drawer, took a large swig from the bottle, "Shit."
In cases like this "he" was called. "He" was called often nowadays with the rise in strange killings, because this was his area of expertise, because "he" was the best.
"Dr. Lloyd Mortimer, we meet way too often and for the wrong reason," Mortimer wasn't the Captain's favourite character. He smelled of death, his very aura reeked with it, but he got the job done and that's what he needed.
"I share your sentiments Captain, but we have no time to squander , so let's see the body now please."
They made their way to the Coroner's Lab in the police station which , for its purpose, was also the morgue. The lifeless torso was already on the shiny, metal table in the room's centre and the limbs placed where they would have been, if they were not dismembered.
"Harold Pryce, 35, 5'10", 180 kg. No connection with the other three victims but he was killed the same way. You've given us a lot of evidence Dr. but so far it counts for shit since we haven't caught the little son of a bitch, so I implore you to get whatever you can out of that corpse over there before some other random civilian is murdered." and with that, the capt. left.
Dr. Mortimer started a routine inspection. Cut open the ribs, took notes, prodded into the heartless cavity, took notes, inspected the arm-less shoulders, took notes, the leg-less hip, and took notes, and it continued like this for three and a half hours. He then covered the body, removed his blood stained gloves and scrubs, washed his hands and carried the report to the Capt.'s receptionist then hurriedly left the police building.
The patrols were increased, evidence was found, but still no broad trail leading to a suspect, just evidence. The coroner's report explained the level of skill and resources that would be needed to perform these murders, so trained professionals or any other person who would have these skills were targeted in the investigations, even Dr. Mortimer. However there was still no sign of a culprit being found soon.
The first week of the new month, closer to winter now, two more persons mutilated, this time one was a police officer. By the end of the month 2 more officers and 1 more civilian were killed, in the same manner. Capt. Michaels could no longer bear it. Not only were civilians being killed but his own men. Another bottle of brandy was downed as he sat there, looking through case files, evidence logs, detective reports, coroner's reports, anything he could look at regarding the situation. This was the first time in his 31 years as a police officer that he was completely helpless.
Mortimer stepped out the building into a dark alleyway, took off his gloves and scrubs, took out a lighter, lit it and threw all three items into a dumpster. He stood and watched the fire started to blaze, and as the fire lit up his eyes he smiled and looked down at the jar in this hand. He then left and made it for home.
The Capt. couldn't fathom the mystery. Every step they took seemed to be another step into death's grasp. However they kept trodding on till one piece of vital evidence was found,a single strand of hair.
No hesitation was made in aquiring the sample, and the Capt. ensured that he got the test results as soon as they were available. They came quickly, even before another murder was reported. Upon receiving the result Capt. Michaels dashed out the door, beckoning 4 policemen to follow him. It was Winter now and the cool breeze was now ice cold. The roads were sheets of traction-less glass under the wheels of the 4 police cars as they sped towards the house of the suspect.
" MORTIMER!!!!!!!!!!" Michaels shouted, as he reached the suspect's house. There was no answer. "MORTIMER!!!!!!! GET OUT HERE WITH YOUR HANDS UP, YOU ARE SURROUNDED!!!!!!" Still, there was no response. Michaels kicked down the door and ordered the other officers to stay and guard the exits. He went through the murderer's lair, fueled by his rage and powered by his fury. He entered the living room, and there sat Dr. Mortimer.
"Good afternoon, Capt. Michaels. Nice to see you again." He stood, turned to the captain, in his hand a dark container marked "#10", "We always meet around the time of a death don't we?" With those words Dr. Lloyd Mortimer collapsed,the needle in his pocket fell, and the #10 container broke, showing its gruesome contents, a human heart.
