Unidentified

Chapter 3

"The hell d'you think you're doing?!" Ashton came storming down the winding flight of stairs to find Bryan alone with the four dead bodies. Ashton, however, was too caught up in his annoyance with the boy to even notice the gruesomeness of said bodies.

"I'm just doing my job, Detective," Bryan said rather matter-of-factly. Ashton stomped over to the young man until he was a mere inch from his face (somehow the people Bryan just met seemed to have a habit of getting all up in his face). Bryan had to crane his neck upwards just to maintain eye contact.

"And just what exactly do you think your job is?" He glared down at Bryan, trying to act as intimidating as possible, but Bryan had no intention of backing down so easily.

"Investigating crime scenes, Detective. Same as yours." Bryan didn't even so much as blink at Ashton's intense gaze.

"Wrong. That is my job, and my job alone. Your job is to shut the fuck up and do whatever the hell I tell you to do, so don't go wandering off without me ya twat." Bryan sighed at this, but for now he really had no other choice than to comply with the bossy man's orders; in the long run, it would probably work out anyway. After a moment of silent fuming, Ashton finally took in his surroundings. "Holy fucking shit," was all he could say.

The basement was a wide-open space filled with warm light coming from the fixtures in the ceiling, and the walls were lined almost all the way around with bookshelves, each rung completely filled. On the far side there was a full-sized pool table as well as a bar counter complete with functional taps. There was a variety of luxuriously comfortable looking furniture set up in front of a large projection screen mounted to the wall, and next to the pool table was another wall that was more window than actual wall (except now it was smashed through, so it was really just a giant hole). Where there weren't bookshelves, original pieces of abstract art hung from nails. These people had gone all out on their home. Seriously, a single room was probably worth more than what Bryan made in an entire year.

          The most shocking thing, however, wasn't the overwhelmingly unaffordableness of the abode; it was the four male corpses splayed out on the plush carpet. One was right next to the staircase that Ashton and Bryan had just come down. There were two laid out by the pool table, pool cues underneath each body and shattered glass from the giant window covering them. The fourth was by the bar, his clothes stained yellow with dried beer and surrounded by a shattered glass. But then again, the most shocking thing wasn't exactly the dead bodies either, it was the way that these dead bodies were displayed. Yes, displayed. Each one was left in the original position in which he had fallen after being shot (evident by the wounds in the head or abdomen of the victims and the dried blood staining the carpet) except for the arms. The arms on all four were pulled outwards as if to form a "T" with the palms facing down. Through each hand was stabbed a knife, an incredibly deliberate action to attract attention or to connect the killing to a certain murderer. No matter how it's described, the scene was absolutely gruesome.

          Ashton began examining the basement, leaving Bryan standing awkwardly by the staircase, unsure of what to do. The Detective eventually got tired of the uneasy feeling of having the boy's eyes dig into his back, so he turned around and said, "well? What're you waiting for, and invitation?" Actually that's exactly what he was waiting for. "Hate to break it to ya, but they're dead, so I doubt you'll be getting one."

          "But you said-"

          "Yeah yeah, I know what the hell I said, but this is what I'm saying now. Put yourself to use instead of just standing there like a dumbass."

          "Yes sir," Bryan said in a rather resigned tone. He then got to work and decided to examine the two cadavers near the pool table, starting with the one closest to the now-open window. The slightly heavier set man was laying face first in the carpet, and he was wearing a football jersey to a team that Bryan didn't quite recognize (he didn't exactly keep up to date on that sort of thing). He had a large blood stain on the back side of the jersey which was the side facing up at that moment. Judging by this and the way in which he fell, the bullet appeared to have entered from the back, not having made it all the way through since there was a pool of blood underneath. He probably had no idea of the threat that had been behind him, nor did the thinner man next to him who had also fallen onto his stomach. They both faced away from the window, and because of the way the glass was spread, that was where the shots must have come from. The thinner man's eyes were still wide open, a truly disturbing image, and he was facing the other man, leading Bryan to believe that the heavier man had been shot first eliciting a reaction from the other only to be shot moments later. The thinner man, who also wore a sports jersey of the same colors, had been shot through the side of the head, a large pool of blood forming underneath his corpse. In both bodies, a cheap-looking knife was thrust into each hand. The blood from these wounds didn't seem to spread as far as the blood from the bullet holes, so maybe they had been inserted as an afterthought? Glancing around to the other two bodies made this idea seem even more plausible. Wait a moment, something looked off about the body near the stairs. Bryan stood up from where he was crouching and made his way over.