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English
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Published:
2024-04-23
Updated:
2024-04-23
Words:
1,363
Chapters:
1/?
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2
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π‹πžπ­ 𝐌𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐭.

Summary:

α΄„Κ€α΄‡α΄‡α΄˜Κα΄˜α΄€κœ±α΄›α΄€ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x κœ±ΚŸα΄€κœ±Κœα΄‡Κ€κœ±

π‘Ύπ’π’“π’Œπ’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 π’‘π’“π’Šπ’—π’‚π’•π’† π’Šπ’π’—π’†π’”π’•π’Šπ’ˆπ’‚π’•π’π’“ π’˜π’‚π’” 𝒂 π’„π’‰π’‚π’π’π’†π’π’ˆπ’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒋𝒐𝒃. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 π’˜π’†π’“π’† π’„π’π’π’”π’•π’‚π’π’•π’π’š 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 π’ƒπ’š 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’π’Šπ’π’ˆπ’†π’“π’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’šπ’π’– 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆 π’Šπ’•... 𝑩𝒖𝒕 π’šπ’π’– π’π’Šπ’—π’†π’… 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅-𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’“π’†π’—π’†π’π’ˆπ’†. 𝑢𝒏𝒆 π’π’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’•, π’˜π’‰π’†π’ π’šπ’π’– π’˜π’†π’“π’† π’‡π’Šπ’π’Šπ’”π’‰π’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒖𝒑 π’‘π’‚π’‘π’†π’“π’˜π’π’“π’Œ π’Šπ’ π’šπ’π’–π’“ π’π’‡π’‡π’Šπ’„π’† 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’šπ’π’–π’“ π’‘π’“π’†π’—π’Šπ’π’–π’” 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒆, π’šπ’π’– π’ˆπ’π’• 𝒂 π’Œπ’π’π’„π’Œ 𝒐𝒏 π’šπ’π’–π’“ 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 π’—π’Šπ’”π’Šπ’•π’π’“ π’˜π’‚π’” 𝒂𝒏 π’†π’π’…π’†π’“π’π’š π’˜π’π’Žπ’‚π’.

Chapter 1: PILOT

Chapter Text

Working as a private investigator was a challenging job. You were constantly surrounded by the lingering dread of death, and you could never escape it... But you lived for second-hand revenge. One night, when you were finishing up paperwork in your office for your previous case, you got a knock on your door. Your visitor was an elderly woman.

"Please, ma'am... Find the men who killed my family."Β She pleaded as she slid a cream-coloured folder over your desk, a few hundred dollar bills sticking out of the top. You opened the folder, paying no mind to the money for the time being as you read the contents. It was a police report β€” a relatively recent one at that β€” documenting the murder of a family of three, the only survivor being a six-year-old girl who was put into her grandmother's custody.

You looked up from the file and at the woman. A look of sorrow was painted on her face, and it made your heart pang. "Please, I need those men behind bars... Emily keeps asking about... About the three men who came into the house to talk with her mother and father the night they were found... Found deadβ€”" The woman sobbed hysterically, her whole body shaking with painful sadness as she cried into her palms. You couldn't help but pity her, you'd never felt the feeling of someone you loved that much being stripped away from you, and you hoped you wouldn't have to endure it.

You reached your hand over the desk and rested it on the woman's shoulder. "I'll try to find these men, ma'am.." You tried to console her, and it worked surprisingly well. The woman stopped her sniffling and smiled up at you. "Thank you dear, you're so kind... I'm Nancy." She told you, grabbing her purse pulling a tissue from it and blowing her nose. You spent the rest of your time with her trying to bring her spirit back.

Almost immediately after Nancy left, you began digging for more information on the case. The case had gone cold almost as soon as it started. On the 16th of August XXXX β€” two months ago β€” the Nash family was murdered in cold blood, allegedly by three men. The mother, Irene Nash, was found in the second-floor restroom's bathtub, drowned under a tide of bath-bomb water.

The father, William Nash, was discovered on the living room floor with a whopping 72 wounds, professionals say it was from an axe or hatchet. The daughter, Emily Nash, however, was discovered 12 miles away in the next town over 2 days later, swimming in Lake Kennedy completely fine, but selectively mute.

Irene was a stay-at-home mother, and William was a doctor β€” nothing immediately suspicious about that β€” and neither parent had any sort of criminal records, so there were no leads from that. You searched for something that could be a lead for a few hours until you had to head home. You shut your laptop and stuffed it into your messenger bag as you headed to the door, about ready to head home at 10 p.m.

You lived on the 5th floor of a small apartment with only three rooms, The living room, restroom, and bedroom. It was all really cramped, and you barely know how you functioned in the tiny space. Your bed barely fit in the bedroom, the kitchenette was broken beyond repair, and you usually had Pop-Tarts or fast food for meals.

You plopped down on your couch and opened your laptop. It was old, crusty, and laggy, and couldn't handle more than two tabs at a time without crashing. Nonetheless, you scoured the web for any sources, and after what felt like years, you finally found something. Several security camera tapes of Dr. Nash harvesting deceased patients' organs, such as their kidneys, intestines and livers, but not limited to. He stole someone's spleen... Like who needs a spleen?

You searched up the hospital he worked at next β€” Thompson and White Clinic β€” and found the phone number. It was 4 a.m. at the moment, however, and you'd rather not call a hospital this early in the morning; especially if there isn't a medical emergency at the moment. You decided you'd do it in the morning, so you shut your laptop and put it on the coffee table, lying your head down on the cushion and sighing as you shut your eyes.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The next morning you awoke, it wasn't much of a morning. It was 1:37 p.m., and you were very muchΒ notΒ refreshed. You groaned and sat up, looking around the living room. The room was a mess; crumpled papers were scattered everywhere on the floor, five or six empty coffee mugs were stacked up on each other on the coffee table, and there were another two shattered and split on the floor. You let out a low groan and got up to grab your laptop and bag, putting them near the door.

Right as you turned your back to the door to head to your bedroom so you could change into work clothes, you got a knock on your door. You sighed and turned back to the door, dusting off your dirty and coffee-stained loungewear and momentarily fixed your hair, then turned the doorknob.

There was a twenty-something man on your doorstep, a mop of badly done brunette hair atop his head. His eyes nervously darted around, as if looking for something. You couldn't help but notice the little twitches and jerks of his body, and how he absentmindedly fiddled with the sleeves of his ill-fitting suit.Β  The man's face was covered by a white medical mask, like those worn by doctors during surgery. It covered his mouth and nose, obscuring his features from you.

The man reached out a hand for you to shake, and you took it. "H-hello! My name is Tobias, a-and I β€” erm β€” I'm a door-to-door salesman!" Tobias told you, retracting his hand. He sounded like he was new to this job, and he sounded like a shitty actor reading straight from his script. You hummed, still a bit drowsy and just wanting to get this over with politely so you could get to work. Tobias brought out a briefcase that you hadn't previously seen, and you mentally sighed.

The old, tattered briefcase looked like it had been tucked away in an attic for years, forgotten and abandoned. The leather was dried and cracked, and the brass trims were rusted. Tobias undid the draw latch and opened the suitcase for you, showcasing a few electronics; like a fancy-looking laptop,Β  phones, tablets, some security cameras and speakers.

All of these looked way out of budget, and you really just wanted to tell him to fuck off your doorstep, but in the name of being polite, you stood there and listened to him. You pointed to the laptop, deciding to entertain him for a bit. "How much is that?" You asked.

"E-erm, thirty bucks," Tobias replied quickly. 30 dollars sounded almost like a scam, too good to be true. "Is it fast?" You questioned, and Tobias nodded. "S-so, do you like it? Th-thirty-day free returns, and free re-repairs," Tobias bargained, making you hum in acknowledgement.

It was free returns if the product sucked ass, and free repairs if it spontaneously combusted. You could get it repaired for free. You fished in your pocket for your wallet for a moment, pulling out a 20 and 10 dollar bill, and handing them to Tobias. Tobias took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket, and you could've sworn you heard him mumble under his breath something about a gas station.

Tobias handed you the laptop along with a business card and nodded his head, shutting his briefcase and quickly sprinting off. Almost 5 steps in he tripped and fell on his face, getting back up and running again, running down the stairs. From what you heard, he probably fell down the stairs. You sighed and went back into your house, putting the new laptop into your messenger bag while you headed off to your closet to get ready for work.

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