Sweetly Morbid (Angels of Death)

Police Talk

"I don't think the guy's a pedophile."

Biggs looked up to stare at his colleague, eyeing him carefully as he chewed on his hamburger. They had stopped to have dinner at a fast food, taking a small break from their search.

"You don't 'think'?" Biggs asked, then shook his head. "Come on, be smart. Why would a psychopath abduct and keep a young under-aged girl alive for such a long time? To gain pleasure from her, of course."

The officer; Roy, shrugged and looked out the window. "Yeah I mean... It doesn't seem to be the case, y'know? When I saw them yesterday, it felt..."

Biggs raised an eyebrow, waiting for Roy's answer.

The younger man just shrugged, "I don't know. It's hard to explain... but whenever I look at those two, I feel a connection, some kind of dynamic! The kind you see in movies, a hero and his side-kick! There's chemistry in there--"

"Chemistry?! The romantic kind??" Biggs interrupted him in horror.

"No!" Roy immediately shook his head at that, "I didn't mean it that way, that's just sick! I meant it as in... oh god what am I thinking?"

"This case has clearly made you go nuts, pal. I think you need something a bit more stronger than that coke..." Biggs said as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his bag. Roy looked at it as if it was evil.

"We're on duty, if i recall."

"No we're not, we're having a well-earned break."

"Are we really?"

"Yes."

They had found plenty of evidence earlier that day. Though the corpses in the forest were unexpected-- the trail of blonde hair left behind was enough proof that Rachel Gardner was at the crime scene, and possibly Isaac foster too.

They probably really deserved their break.

Roy looked at the bottle for a full minute, then gave Biggs his cup with a sheepish smile.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to do this once in a while, then."

Half an hour later...

"Oh man, I fucking hate this world, I swear to god I feel like I'm gonna puke my lungs out if they ever gimme' a case like this again." Biggs muttered as he took another sip of alcohol, his eyes getting droopy from all the booze. "Chasin' after that creepy punk, savin a lil' girl with stockholm syndrome... tis' all really shady an' weird an' creepy an' icky. Blegh."

"I feel ya, bro." Roy nodded in agreement, his cheeks flushed red. He was clearly drunk too. "But wait, stockholm syndrome? She hazzit?"

"Yea, why else would she stick to him and aid him like that, she got brainwashed."

"Poor lil' thing."

"Am tellin' ya he evil, evil I say!! Gotta' castrate him."

"Castrate, yes."

"Gotta' throw him in jail and have him drop the soap..."

"Drop the soap, yeah."

"Am gonna havta' strangle em'."

"Strangulation sounds cool. That illegal tho."

"Yea, sad."

"Think he been grooming her?" Roy asked lazily.

"As in sexually?" Biggs furrowed his brows.

"Yeah."

"Probably."

"Wow, sick. Doesn't surprise me though."

"Neither'."

"How are things with the missus?" Roy then asked while twirling a strand of his curly blonde hair.

"As unexciting as they can be."

"Ever thought of roleplaying?"

Biggs snorted, "Who do you take me for? Course' we have. Except I'm a lil' offended she prefers the mailman outfit instead of my police uniform."

"Prob considerate. Doesn't wanna' wash the woohoo away all the time."

Biggs chuckled.

"What about you? Any women?"

Roy shyly looked around, "mhm, fiancée."

"She pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Done it yet?"

"No, she... well she is religious. Didna' want to lose it before marriage."

"When's the weddin'?"

"Next year."

"You poor soul."

"I'm patient."

"Not talkin' to ya', am talkin to little johnny over here." He pointed with his chin at the direction of Roy's crotch.

"Oh... ya. It's hard on his end... Literally."

"Hah, I bet."

Suddenly, they heard a buzz from somewhere.

"... Officer Biggs... do you copy? Over."

"Sir I think its tha' walkie talkie." Roy pointed out. Biggs took his device and answered in mild panic, trying to sound... normal.

"Yes, this is Biggs here. Over."

"We have a lead, come at the station near the forest. Over."

Biggs's eyes widened. He was in deep shit, that station was a good 1 hour drive away.

"I... Roger that."

The short conversation ended after a few seconds, and Biggs turned to stare at his colleague with odd eyes.

"We gotta' go, Roy. Move."

The slightly younger man blinked in wonder.

"Huh? Where to?" He asked.

"That gas station near the forest, we gotta' move." Biggs said and ran out of the restaurant, making sure to toss a few dollar bills towards the waiter. Roy followed behind with a surprised look, staring at their car as if it was hell itself.

"How you gonna' drive?" He asked innocently. Biggs snorted.

"I ain't driving. You drive."

"I can't I'm drunk."

"I'm drunkier. Put your seatbelt on and let's go."

The man mumbled a few inaudible curses before getting on the driver's seat. His movements slow and clumsy. He started the engine and went on reverse- the car hit something immediately after.

Roy panicked. "What was that?!"

"Just a squirrel, you're fine so move it!"

"Oh god is it dead?!"

"No it's fine, it probably can't climb trees anymore though."

"This is all your fault!" Roy suddenly snapped.

"How is it my fault?!"

"If you didn't get us drunk the squirrel would have been fine!"

"You agreed to drink so it's also your fault!"

"Consent isn't valid when drunk."

"You were sober, jackass!"

"I--" he stepped on the pedal, forgetting that he was still on reverse. The car went further down; now fully crushing on something.

Biggs turned, opened the door and stared at the back wheels. He looked at the small poodle of blood and the fleshy little paw sticking out.

"Oh yea, the squirrel is definitely gone now. Good job. Now go on and get rid of it cause' we can't quite drive off with that stuck."

Roy sobbed as he silently exited the vehicle to clean off the gore from the wheels. Another death to feel bad about.