Hunter's Challenge

Hunter's Challenge part 3

Hunter's Challenge part 3

“It seems like the killer has completely stopped killing men now that he's got a taste for women. The body count is now 8 men, and 12 women. Police are at a loss to corner this madman. Even blocking off all entrances to the German Quarter and sending hourly patrols through allies is not deterring further murders. There are no clues how the killer is able to get in and out undetected. Female officers have been pulled from the patrol entirely now that the 3rd female officer's body was recovered on Wednesday morning. Like the other two she was found shortly after the murder, but it is believed the killer only had fifteen minutes to complete the mutilation before the patrol went through.”
Parson was disgusted. He couldn't believe the audacity of the copy killer to go so far as to kill officers when the civilian populace was banned from the area. The message was clear. The copy wanted the original to know how much better at the game they were. They were practically gloating at how much better they were. A show was being made of how much skill it took to overpower, murder, and desecrate a trained and armed policewoman in just minutes without alerting anyone. Parson thought the copy had known when he'd last been in the German Quarter and had made all that noise to lure him in just to show off more of their work.
Parson wasn't impressed. He didn't appreciate what that lunatic was doing. With the German Quarter shut down he wasn't able to enjoy walking the back allies, indulge in  what the shops had to offer, speak his native language easily.  It felt like a massive piece of his life was sapped away.
Melancholy set in, making it harder to do his job. He couldn't write and preform music when his spirits were so low. It was becoming obvious that the copy killer would have to be stopped if he was ever going to feel himself 100% again.
That night Parson carefully made his way across rooftops towards the German Quarter. His long, lithe limbs and long history in gymnastics made the foray into parkour almost too easy. All the rooftops being close together helped as well.
Luck was with him in the form of there not being any police posted on top of the buildings. The moon had waned down to only a sliver now, leaving just streetlights to illuminate the allies. Parson was basically invisible in his dark blue outfit. He took his time to check all routes around a building before moving onto another.  To keep his growing impatient at bay he kept reminding himself that someone had died every night so far that week, and it was likely another would be attacked that same evening. His problem would be solved that night before he lost control of himself.
Parson spent over an hour moving along the roofs, searching for the copy while dodging out of sight of the roaming officers.
It was nearing midnight when he spotted a sewer lid carefully tilt upwards. The lid spun slowly so the opening faced all 360 degrees of view before being hefted to the side. A tall, thin figure came up, turning back to help another much smaller person out of the hole. When they moved up the corridor and passed through the orange light of a mounted street lamp Parson could see the tall one was dressed as a policeman, while the other was simply a civilian woman.
The strange pair giggled to each other as they looked around the closest corner. Intrigued, Parson followed them. They were heading for the deeper parts of the quarter where there were only dilapidated buildings that were long since boarded up
The taller of the two, the policeman, had grabbed hold of Parson's attention. Something was so off about him. His body was long and thin, somewhat gangly, as if he had been stretched out to that length instead of simply growing to that size. Parson was convinced that this was the copy killer. It fit properly. That man's body frame was perfect to go through narrow sewer tunnels and tall enough to grab fire ladders on the sides of buildings to get to the roofs. He could use either route to escape. He could even simply set himself up as a normal police officer with that outfit, if he wasn't one for real.
Parson kept up with the two until the civilian girl old the policeman she needed to stop for air. She was giggling through her panting breaths, hands on her knees for some rest.
“Ohmygawd!” the girl panted, her low voice excited. "Thank you for bringing me! This is the most exciting thing I've ever done!”
The policeman laughed quietly. “You're lucky I like you as much as I do or you wouldn't be here. I could get fired for even being here!”
“Just stick to telling them you caught me coming in and wanted to apprehend me. That's why you wore the uniform!” the girl chirped.
The policeman folded his long arms, sighing. “Yeah, I suppose it is. But seriously, I'm not supposed be here! All the female staff's been banned from coming here on pain of termination.”
Female staff? Parson thought, a little confused. Then he realized what was so nagging about the policeman. That wasn't a man. It was a female, a woman with such an androgynous body and voice that Parson would have never considered it without the fact being blatantly pointed out.
Another epiphany came to Parson all at once. Being a female officer was the perfect cover to get close to the women who'd been victimized. Women in dark allies would be comfortable alone with another woman, especially one with a protective position in the community. That would also explain how the mutilated policewomen had been taken. They would trust a fellow woman officer and let down their guards easily. Plus, with such a long frame, it would be easy for this woman to overpower a smaller woman.
The evidence was all Parson needed to prove her guilt. Everything fit so well. He was in awe at how smoothly all the clues fell together like the perfect villain in a B-movie.
At the same time, Parson was utterly disgusted. How could someone sworn to protect their fellow humans use the trust instilled towards them to turn in such a brutal way? And for nothing more than to play a shoddy copy of an original killer?
Parson had steeled himself to make an example of the woman, taking out his vlogging camera and beginning to film them.
“Where do you want to go from here?” the policewoman asked, checking the time on her pone. “It's almost time for check rounds to come through so we gotta get hidden soon.”
The civilian girl seemed to consider for a moment what her counterpart said. “I'm not sure I want to go anywhere else. his spot is perfect.”
She spun in the light of a street lamp bolted to the corner of a building.
The policewoman was confused. “Bri, we can't just stay here. There'll be patrol coming through in ten minutes.”
Bri, the small civilian woman, stopped her slow, loose-limbed spin. She sighed. “I know.”
She moved so quickly that Parson found himself thankful to be filming to review what happened later. In only moments, Bri had closed the few feet separating the two women. The policewoman made a strange gurgling gasp before pushing the other woman as hard as her long arms could. Bri sprawled across the alley floor with the momentum, but was only down for a second before springing back up.
In the few micro moments Parson could see the huge hunting knife sticking out of the policewoman's chest. She tried to draw her gun, but was so overtaken by surprise and pain that her shaking fingers couldn't undo the clasp before Bri was on her. The small woman leapt on the larger, knocking her back and slamming her against the cobble stone ground. The fall clearly knocked the air from the policewoman's lungs. She gasped hard, desperate to full her open chest. She was unable to yell, to even make noise at all that could bring her the help she desperately needed.
Bri quickly took the massive knife handle in both hands and began sawing down through her friend's sternum, abdomen, and down to the pelvis. She threw the knife back into  sheath inside her jacket before digging her hands into the wound. Her tiny hands grasped ribs, using more strength than should have been available to her to pull them apart.
In less than two minutes the copy-killer had finished her work. Without another word she hopped off the mutilated remains and ran back down the alley to a nearby manhole cover. For a few seconds she struggled with the heavy cover. Parson wondered if her hands were too slick with blood to manage the move, but a moment later she scooted in over enough to squeeze in and pull it back in place.
Parson just stared in awe. He stopped recording, put the camera away, and headed home. Police would be swarming soon, and he didn't want to be caught in the middle.