The Roses

Forks

The target arrived at his apartment to find that his roommate was not there. This wasn't a strange occurrence. It was simply a fact that the target registered. What was a strange occurrence were the five masked strangers sitting in the apartment's living room. Now, the target was used to violence, after all he is part of a gang, so he pulled out a gun.

"It's rude to pull a gun on your guests," the man in the silk suit sat on his couch scolded him. The suit the stranger wore was the same harsh white as a hospital's long sterilized halls and like a doctor prepped for surgery his mask covered only his nose and mouth.

The masked man had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the lady that sat beside him. She was like a panther as she wore a shiny black coat and gazed at the target as if he were prey. Unlike her partner her mask covered only the top half of her face leaving her smirk on full display.

"Lace, please help our host out." The man in white waved his hand toward the target.

Before the target had a chance to react he was disarmed, and the gun that used to be in his hands was pressed against the side of his head. One of the other men in the room grabbed his hands and pinned them behind his back. This man was wearing a leather jacket.

"Flannel," the final man, who was stretched out lazily in one of the armchairs, sat up when the man in the suit called. "The flower," Flannel as the man had called him brought out a single red rose and put it in the vase that sat on the coffee table.

"No way," the target's breath quickened. He knew what that rose meant. Everyone knew what that rose meant. And, it was meant for him.

***

Detective Chris arrived at the scene to see the swarm of forensics and officers trying to deal with this latest murder. The officer guarding the door to the apartment immediately recognized the detective and ushered him under the yellow tape.

"Captain, what's the run down?" Chris asked the man in charge.

"This is Jackson Williams," the officer introduced Chris to the corpse on the floor of the living room, an ironic place for a corpse to be. "His roommate found him and called 911. There was no signs of forced entry. So far, we believe the cause of death is the fork stabbed through his throat."

This was definitely one of the more bizarre murders Chris had seen. Not only was there a fork sticking up from the victim's throat. There were multiple forks stuck in the arms and legs showing that the murderer had done a little light torturing before going for the kill. Chris also noticed the reason he was called in, the single red rose on the coffee table.

Chris was a private eye that specializes in the Roses. He had made it his life goal to find out all the information on them. So far, he had little, but it was more than anyone else had gathered. He identified five distinct killing methods that they used and observed that on occasion a potential sixth like the one in front of him. This sixth one was not as concrete as the others since it was characterized by a bizarre death using weapons that belonged to the scene of the crime.

That's why he asked. "Do the forks match the silverware in the kitchen?"

"We haven't checked," the officer in charge explained. "Phil, go check."

After hearing a few drawers being opened an answer of confirmation was heard.

"Make sure to dust all the drawers for prints, Phil." The Officer called back.