The Altercations with 24

Missing Philadelphia Girl

Detective Clark stormed into the police station, cursing at all the reporters outside. Someone had gotten wind of the gruesome murders and now all the vultures outside wanted answers. But that was his biggest problem. He didn't have a single clue about the horror he had just seen. Twenty years on the force and this was the worst thing he had ever seen.

Six teens, all hung by a noose in an alley. With that message. That confusing message. How many killers were there? Who was the 'We'? And why now? Detective Clark sat down at his desk and called the M.E. 

"What?" The man's gruff voice snapped. 

"When will you be done with the bodies?" Clark asked, not in the mood for more crap. 

"Do you know how long it takes to autopsy six teens? I've called in help, but who knows how long that will take?" The M.E said, clearly annoyed.

"I don't need your crap, Stephen. Call me the second you finish." Clark hung up the phone with a loud slam. There was no more he could do that night with the crime techs still at the scene and the M.E having to autopsy six teens all by himself. So Clark went home and slept soundly. Sadly, this was the last night Clark would sleep for the weeks to come.

The next morning when Clark got to the office the reporters begin yelling and taking their pictures. "Is it true that the bodies are the missing teens?" "Do you have any leads?" "What do you know so far?!" Clark ignored their questions and pushed past them. His department had a leak. He had expressly stated that no one reveal that they had identified the missing teens until it absolutely confirmed.

He burst into the station and went to his desk. He immediately called the M.E and grabbed a file that was put on his desk. 

"What?" Stephen snapped again. 

"What do you know so far?"

The sigh over the phone made Clark want to go down to the corner's office and punch Stephen in the face.

"Here's what I know so far. Most of them died due to neck injuries. Ripped out throat, strangled, stomped on throat. One clearly suffered more than the others. All the words seem to be written by different people, points to multiple killers, but I can't confirm that. That's what I know so far."  

And than the phone disconnected. Clark hung up the phone and opened the file. The crime scene photos peered up at him, the victim's frozen eyes full of fear.

We're Just As Real As You. 

What did that mean? Who was the 'We'? Killers? But that didn't make sense. Different writing on all the bodies, each one killed in a different way. Six teens at one time. Four of whom had been held captive for over a month. And if this guy (or guys) was confident and brave enough to kidnap and kill six teens, then who the hell knew what he(or they) were going to do next.

And so, Clark and his team would spend the next weeks studying the gruesome case inside and out. They would stay countless nights and lose days of sleep to try and find something to piece together. FBI specialists were called to consult, but weren't much help. Not one shed of evidence was found to help narrow down where the teens were kept or who killed them. No other teens were taken in Baltimore and no one bodies where found like the others. There was nothing.

Clark had to face reporters, his captain, the mayor every week to discuss how the case was going. Since there was no result, the heat was on and his job was on the line. Tip lines were open, but they proved to be no help and full of loony people. Clark found himself wishing for more victims so his team could have more to work with. But that thought made Clark hate himself even more.

All victims had been identified and all parents had been informed. Clark had to tell all their parents and it was hard not to put a bullet in his brain at the end of the day. And he still had no answers to give them. He couldn't give them the closure they needed and he couldn't give them their child's body back. He couldn't do anything for them. And so whenever he was able to go home he would drown his day in a bottle of Bourbon.

Just when Clark had given up hope, something happened. It was a day like any other; with Clark staring at the board film of crime scene photos and and his team around him. He was thinking of the mysterious 'We' again when a lower police officer burst in his meeting room.

 The young cop had a notepad and stared sheepishly at Clark. "What?!" He snapped, annoyed that a lower level cop interrupted his thoughts.

"I-I don't know if this will help you, but I found something interesting on a girl who went missing from Philadelphia last year."