Valentine was a burly man with terrible posture and a back that curved like a sickle. He wore tiny specs and cut up cadavers like steak dinner— a glaring contrast to the way John treats the bodies rolled in when he worked at the asylum, which often gave poor Johnny the creeps whenever they got to SLE morgue. That's why John always opted for Finn to be at the forefront whenever they went down to the morgue.
The AI led the way, ducking every time Val carelessly swung his arm around to explain something that happened over the summer. He did it with sound effects you see, spit and rancid blood flying everywhere most of the time his hand gestures mimicked something off memory but Finn always let him finish because it's the polite thing to do.
Johnny stood a good distance away pretending to help organize tools as Val ranted. Finn brushed off his jacket, picking off pieces of bone when his co worker was done. "That's an interesting story. I'm glad your daughter got on the ride or else she wouldn't let you hear the end of it."
Val flashed his crooked teeth and laughed, moving his spare hand between Marian's guts. "Ha! Real princess she is, doesn't take any other kind of treatment. I feel I spoil her." He sniffs the blood covered hand and then looks towards Finn. "Do I spoil her?"
"Children are a gift."
Val smiles, taking off his glove. "You know just what to say."
"It's his programming. Of course he knows just what to say." John scoffs coming up beside them, slinging an arm around his partner as he gazes down at Marian's body. "What do we got?"
Val hurries to his table and they follow, observing everything laid down neatly. A usb drive Val had cleaned and labeled and a gold key chain with some numbers engraved on it. "Under close inspection, our las didn't die of cancer but Pica?" He waves his hand in a not so sure motion. "Although looking into her medical history, there were no records of previous eating disorders of any kind. And there were no signs of hair or cement clogging her intestines, but" he points to the key chain, "the drive and key chain were found in her stomach and if I could guess, she swallowed them few minutes just before she was killed." He hands John a file and he skims through.
Val makes a noise at the back of his throat, pulling up an X-ray sheet on his board. "The key chain is a custom public mailbox chain issued to all citizens and is originally bronze covered like most mail key chains in Sebrion but this one has been sprayed over to look gold." He takes a swab off the table and some water, rubbing away the peeling paint to reveal the rusty undertone of bronze. "The paint however contained benzene which in most cases pollutes the bloodstream and in large amounts overtime causes cancer."
"She wasn't cancerous." Finn notes and Val smiles adjusting his specs.
"No, she wasn't. The paint used on the key chain isn't enough to cause cancer in the time she was alive. However, the chain slowly dissolving into her bloodstream could easily have had side effects that resembled cancer at the time her body had gone into shock from her neck injury."
"Injury?" John snorts. "So the slit throat what's got our victim."
Val nods eagerly. "The killer used a serrated knife, cutting shallow enough to inflict damage but not enough to kill her immediately."
"A crime of passion?" Finn chimes.
"Perhaps. Our murderer must've known the victim personally, hence why they wanted her to suffer before her death." He moves to the body again, lifting her hand and showing them her pristine, well manicured nails. "No signs of struggle, no broken nail or dna. Our victim knew her killer."
Johnny rubs his chin, looking between the body and the file in his hand. "You said she had two roommates." Finn looks towards his partner and nods, "Caroline Owens and Maureen Peterson."
"I'll have the keychain number checked out and whatever is on the drive recovered— assuming we can recover anything from it."
"Is that right." He whispers to himself. He waves the file, pulling Finn close to him as they make their way to the elevator. "I'm borrowing this Valentine."
Valentine sighs in the cold room, that was his only copy. He'd overlook John's lukewarm bullying if it meant Finn would come down here more often. The AI seemed to be more human than his partner. With both his coworkers gone, he strokes Marian's hair with a sigh wondering if someone out there's looking for their daughter.
Finn likes the wind that slices through his silicon skin every time they're 'cruising'. John likes to call his driving cruising because he's the only one that turns on the sirens to bypass traffic. Finn lets it's slide because the wind cools his system more than his own fan.
He wondered if the reaper had considerable differences to his makeup. Nothing in the articles said anything about overheating and the necessity to exude steam. But they had to be alike somehow, an AI almost like him in some way.
"How far are we from verdam avenue?" John asks.
"A few streets down— take a left here." John takes a sharp left that has Finn jamming his shoulder against the car door. "I do not approve of your driving John."
"A couple of years on the force and you still don't understand law enforcement privileges." He laughs with another swerve and an almost Dalmatian roadkill.
"Johnny." Finn warns. Despite the wind in his hair, he could feel the gears in his neck jam and the heat overflowing his body.
"For the thousandth time, it's John. You don't see me calling you Infinite. If anyone outside the department asks, I tell them your name is Finneas— even my wife. Even Barbra and you know I don't like to lie to Barbra." The heat that floods his body is unbearable, he puffs out steam to ease the build up and John makes a startled noise at the back of his throat. "Have you lost your mind? The windows are open!"
"I know…" his automatic voice dims as the gears in his neck jam over and over again. Finn wonders if John can hear the tick in his neck over the wind.
"Doesn't seem like it." He scoffs. The moment seems to have passed for the blonde cop as he reaches for the radio, settling on neo soul music.
"Johnny." He calls. Static fills his ears and he can barely hear himself, the music or the wind while John drums his fingers on the steering wheel. The sound intensifies like nails on a chalkboard and the ticking in his neck the only thing constant and loud in his microphone. "Something is—"
John hits the brakes and they both buck in their seats. The freedom festival usually started in the evenings but the majority of people already blocked off the road with their floaters and the marching bands. John let's an annoyed groan, shutting off the engine to peer out his window. There were only a street away from verdam avenue but at the rate the march was going, they'd get there too late and who's to say Marian's roommates aren't somewhere else celebrating.
John says something to Finn and gets out but the static in his ear overpowers the noise of the crowd and his partner's voice. He slams a hand against his ear and the signal eases each time. He looks up from his seat to the top of nearby buildings. He needed to know what in the world was causing the jammed signal.
Someone was sitting on the edge of the building to his right, swinging their feet lazily watching the crowd below. He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out the car, just as the hooded figure stands to its full height. From his judgement they're short, poised in their stance. A little girl in the crowd points at what he's looking at as well, grabbing her mother's attention.
"That height's dangerous for a child." Her worried voice reaches him. "I hope she doesn't plan on jumping off."
Finn touches the little microphone in his ear, "Johnny." he calls but is met with static.
The wind picks up as the hoods falls away to reveal chopped obsidian hair and ashen skin. The most off putting thing about the figure is the bulge underneath the hood that can barely hide the machine gun in her hands. Red eyes gleam with the promise of death and for the first time, Finn understands the concept of human fear firsthand.
It's real. She's real. And above the excruciating static in his ears from that height he can hear it— the flat automatic voice of the reaper.
"This is the end for all of you."
She takes aim and Finn dives straight for the little girl and her mom. Punctured floaters fall and people scatter like cockroaches beneath the reaper. From her throne on the roof, for the first time she felt power. Every bullet shell that falls sound like the triangle at an orchestra, the bells at the middle of smoke city—
Finn can't save them all, women and children get hit, some trampled on and something in the distance explodes but he can't shake the airy song of Edvard Grieg's fairy dance out of his ears through the disaster that is the freedom festival.