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02 June 2007 @ 02:44 am
I come bearing fanfic!!! Yes, yes, I need to update the webcomic, I know. We're working on that, I swear. New one will be up no later than noon Monday. I need to get a backlog of strips done for that. *wince*

However, I have fanfic!

By Alouette Sparra

Author’s Notes: This is going to be fairly dark, disturbing, and I have no clue how in blazes I’m going to finish it. This is also for the fanfic100. Past that, I have nothing to say about this.
Oh, and someone here (I can't recall whom) gave the Chief Inspector at the Met the surname of Kincaid. I kidnapped that idea for use here. Simply because I liked how it sounded.
Rating: PG-13 for general ickiness.
Prompt: Who?
Word Count: 1459

Chapter One

God Called In Sick Today

    No one missed the mood Angel was in when he showed up to work that morning. Although the July sun blazed bright in the morning sky, already baking the earth at the early hout of 0700, no one found the urge to complain about the heat when he arrived at the station. In fact, Sergeant Fisher would later swear that he had the urge to put on his coat when Angel showed up, as the temperature in the building dropped at least fifteen degrees upon Angel’s arrival.

    No one dared to ask what had him in such a mood. Possibly it was the look in his eyes. Pure murder, it was said. Not even the Andys wanted to cross him. Doris marked the date on her calendar, 9 July, 2007. When asked about it, she would say the date was noteworthy as the first day where the Andys did not find some new way of harrassing their strait-laced Inspector. Doris would also say (after making sure that Angel was not around) that she had never suspected Angel of looking so capable of killing a person in cold blood until that day. That was what made it a truly important day.

    No one wanted to speak to Angel at all that day, not even when Mr. Staker called to report that he had found a leg on his property. More specifically, the upper leg, with the two ends of the femur sticking out. No knee, no lower leg, not even the rest of the body from whence this piece had come. Just a femur still neatly wrapped in muscle, vessel and skin. However, they all knew that this was really more something that Angel would know how to deal with, as gruesome murders of the sort that this must surely be were really more of a city thing. So it was Danny they sent in, deciding that he would be the only person Angel would actually tolerate in such a mood.

    No one was surprised when Angel stormed out of the room shortly after Danny had entered. They stood a safe distance from him as he grabbed a set of keys from the rack and headed towards the door. The only thing Angel said was a barked order for “Sergeant Butterman” to hurry up and come with. Everyone held their breath, only exhaling in a collective sigh of relief after they heard the sound of tires squealing in protest to how fast Angel pulled the car out of its space.  The relief didn’t last long as the radio crackled to life, with Danny’s voice shaky telling the Andys that they were to meet up with them at the scene.

    No one particularly cared that Cartwright did not want to be anywhere near Angel in such a mood. Mainly because no one particularly wanted to disobey any order whilst Angel was in this mood. So they sent Cartwright on his merry way, promising him plenty of lager that night in the pub. Wainwright went willingly once they convinced Cartwright to go. That had really been his only point of contention, that he would not face Angel alone.

    No one could figure out the reason behind Angel’s mood, despite much speculation. It did not take a genius to figure out that this murder would not help his mood any.

    No one realised just how much worse this murder would make his mood. It would put him in a far darker humour; such that the Andys would call him “Medusa” when they were certain he could not hear.

    No one knew why this one murder had such an effect on him.

    No one except Chief Inspector Kenneth Kincaid. He had disappeared two days ago, however. Hadn’t been seen since.

    No one knew what had happened to him.

    Until that day.

    Danny was certain he’d be sick. He had no idea how his partner could take such a… horrid… terrible… disgusting thing like this and treat it as though it were just an ordinary, everyday sort of thing you might happen upon whilst going to the shop for a Cornetto. Admittedly, Nicholas had been out of sorts all day, to put it mildly. He’d never seen Nicholas like this, and it worried him, because Nic just wasn’t the sort of person he’d expect to ever see in a murderous mood, because Nic caught the murderers and showed a distinct dislike towards that sort of criminal. Of course, Danny wasn’t all too fond of murderers either, especially when they did this sort of thing to the poor bloke (or bird) that were their victim.

    “Hurry up, Sergeant Butterman, I haven’t got all day!” Angel’s voice barked from over near the trees where the leg had been found.

    Danny shuddered as he came closer. He dimly registered the noise of another car pulling up just as Angel yelled for the Andys. “They’ve just got here now,” he said.

    “Tell them to get over here then! I’d like the detective work to be done sometime before all our evidence rots away!”

    Cartwright had just got out of the vehicle when Angel had said that. Normally not the sort to rush to Danny’s defense, nor the sort to stick his neck out on the chopping block, he nonetheless felt the urge to yell at Angel for being a complete arse and a bastard as well. However, being the sensible sort that he was, he settled for yelling out that they’d be over there right quick and there was no need to be yelling at Danny about himself and Andy. Danny flashed Cartwright a small, thoroughly grateful smile in response. Angel just grunted his acknowledgement.

    “Wonder what’s up his arse today?” Wainwright muttered as the three officers headed over to where the Inspector was.

    “Well, Danny?”

    “I don’t know. He’s hardly said a thing to me all day beyond ‘Hurry up’.”

    By the time they all reached where Angel had been, a mere minute later, Angel had already moved on to carefully searching the surrounding area. Wainwright and Cartwright quickly set about to doing detective work. What this consisted of, Danny had no clue, so he decided it would be a safer bet to follow Angel. It wasn’t quite the most immediately safe option, but he figured he’d last longer if he incurred his partner’s wrath now, as opposed to later if he ended up mucking up the investigation because he hadn’t done things the proper way detective work wise.

    He quickly crossed the two meters or so distance between them.

    “Left femur was there… means the left tibia and humerus should be over here somewhere…” Angel said.

    Danny didn’t reply, figuring Nic was talking to himself. He noticed something whitish and shiny out of the corner of his eye, just peeking out from under a root. After checking to see what it was, he said loud enough so Nic could hear, “Oh… God…”

    Angel turned sharply at the sound of Danny’s voice. “What is it?”

    “It’s… it’s…” Danny swallowed hard.

    In the blink of an eye, Angel was next to Danny. “Patella.”

    Danny swallowed again, more audibly than the first time.

    “If you’re going to be sick, go somewhere else. Although I really fail to see what’s so bad about this. The ‘accidents’ were just as gory.”

    “That were different.”

    “How so? It’s all murder in the end.”

    “I didn’t know it were murder then! That’s why I wasn’t sick then.”

    “Oh… I see. Still, I’d prefer you not being sick all over the evidence.” With that, Angel pulled out his notebook and pen and proceeded to write, totally ignoring Danny. His partner stood and watched for a bit, when suddenly Angel snapped the notebook closed. He glanced over at Danny, and a ghost of a smile found its way to Nicholas’ mouth. “Right then. Come with.”

    With that, Angel headed off into the trees. Danny followed as best he could. However, the pace Angel was setting was near impossibly fast for someone tromping through underbrush, and Danny was having a hard time keeping up. He managed to catch up just in time to see Angel slump to the ground. A memory came unbidden to his mind. The last time he’d seen Nic like that was right after he’d stabbed Nic in front of the Neighbourhood Watch. Before that particular comparison could go any further, Angel’s face contorted with rage.


    “What?” The word was spat out as though it were distasteful.

    Danny winced at the tone. “What’d you find?”

    “The head.”

    “Oh… Any idea whose?”

    Angel’s expression changed from rage to a sardonic grin. “Unless the Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police has an identical twin, I’d hazard that this is the corpse of Kenneth Kincaid.”
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