A Tale of Forgotten Gods

Chapter 92: Unusual Cases.

In the city of clockwork, the mysterious murders had increased beyond what others could solve.

At that moment everyone believed no one could find the killer, but then he came. It was the identity of an investigator who was obsessed with mysteries to the extreme limit where he could do anything to solve them. A ruthless, insane detective entered the mysteries.

He didn’t arrive with a frantic, panicked urgency of those desperate for answers, nor with the righteous fury of justice. His boots stopped near the dead body while cops surrounded it.

To the city, he might have been an investigator, but those who looked closely would see the obsession, which was not really a profession but more like a disease.

To the high-ranking officers of the watch, a killer was a crisis to be managed. To the city’s populace, it was more of a monster in the dark. But to the man standing, while the blood pooled in the alleyway was neither a tragedy nor a threat.

The local officers stood at the perimeter while their hands trembled, eyes locked on the severed limbs scattered across the street.

​The sound of polished leather boots caught their attention as they looked at the man standing behind them.

A tall man wearing a battered wide-brimmed fedora, slightly askew, shadowing his sharp, piercing grey eyes. He wore a dark trench coat, the fabric worn thin at the elbows, billowing as he moved over a wrinkled, rumpled suit beneath. The tie was always loose on his chest.

The police officer’s gaze lay on the detective’s badge. It was a tarnished silver star, which bent slightly, pinned to his cloth.

Then he glanced at the man’s hands, which had worn fingerless leather gloves, exposing calloused fingers.

​He didn’t look at the police officer as the pool of blood crept toward his shoes; his expression remained as flat as a stagnant lake, and finally, he spoke in a calm, heavy voice. ”You’re contaminating the evidence.” His voice was terrifyingly polite as he stepped forward.

​A panicked witness standing near a dark alley stepped forward, babbling a warning about the killer still hiding in the shadows above.

In one fluid motion, he pulled the gun out and pointed it toward the panicked witness without turning his head toward the person. He pulled the trigger, the gun shot echoing in the street. The witness’ breath caught in his throat as the gunshot moved inches from him. The bullet hit the dustbin behind, and a scream tore through the silence. The witness stumbled back, then turned to see, staring in horror as a wounded figure scrambled out from behind the trash bin, clutching a bleeding leg.

A whisper came out of the detective’s lips. ”Get him.”

The police stood and rushed toward the man, holding a pistol.

​While the investigator casually reached his hand into the dead man’s pocket, retrieved a brass key, and checked his pocket watch. His eyes examined every single detail from time to the movement of his blood and the wound itself. ”Three minutes behind schedule.” He muttered to himself, stepping over the corpse without a second glance.

He pulled out a small diary from his pocket and wrote down the details. He turned toward another police officer and spoke in his polite tone. ”Could you bring me the files of the other victims?”

The officer hesitated. ”Are you?”

”Murphy Law, a detective who was walking by here.”

Hearing that, the cop nodded and moved away. At that moment the officer returned with the man who was hiding.

Mo Fei, as Murphy, examined the man with a piercing gaze, his eyes scanning the man’s whole body. Mo Fei walked toward the man arrested now. ”Tell me now, where is he?”

The man screamed. ”I don’t know anything! What are you talking about? I have never seen that man.”

Murphy remained silent and moved his revolver to the man’s forehead. ”How do you know who I am talking about specifically?”

Sweat dropped from the man’s face, the cold tip of the gun touching his forehead, yet he said again. ”I don’t know; I only guessed.”

Mo Fei pulled the trigger; a click echoed, but no shot fired. The man’s face wavered at the click sound, then Murphy’s whisper echoed through his ears. ”My bad, the shot was empty; maybe the next one won’t be.”

The man shut his eyes and spoke loudly. ”I truly don’t know; he gave me money to watch it.”

Mo Fei dropped his revolver and tucked it back into his belt. ”Tell me his appearance and his reason for the murders.”

”I don’t know anything, he was wearing a mask”

”Give me what he gave you.”

”Money?”

”That symbol hanging in your locket.”

The man glanced at his chain necklace, which had the mark of the circle. He slowly pulled it out and gave it away to Mo Fei, who took it, then turned toward the police officer. ”Arrest him.”

”But I didn’t do anything!” the man yelled, begging to let go.

”Would you rather die or rot in cells? The choice is yours.” With that, Murphy turned toward the witness and cops, who looked at him confused, as though, why did he shot that man without any reason yet got it right.

One of the cops whispered. ”How did you do?”

Murphy stayed silent for a second, then pointed toward the victim’s palm, then at the man’s plucked-out eyes, and then finally at the victim’s neck, which had an almost invisible, thin circular cut. ”You’ll get the answer there.”

With that, he turned toward the nearest police station and walked toward it with his hands in his pockets. With slow rhythmic steps, he entered the building and saw the officer he sent collecting the data of previous victims. He squinted his eyes and watched him work as a drop of blood fell from the officer’s shoulder.

The police officer pulled his collar and looked at the cut in his arm, a half-orb arc. ”Blasted medical examiners,” the officer muttered, tugging his collar over the wound. ”The doctor really has a terrible bedside manner. Tch, must’ve nicked myself on a rusted tool up at the clinic.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes, then slowly sat on a chair. The officer brought him multiple case files of the victims of this month.

Mo Fei pulled out one of the reports.

DEPARTMENT OF URBAN WATCH:

HOMICIDE DIVISION CASE FILE NUMBER: CW-1894-08

STATUS: ACTIVE / LINKED TO SERIAL COMPLAINT INVESTIGATING OFFICER: Det. William Natvin (Special Envoy / Unorthodox Assignment)

ADMINISTRATIVE BRIEF & INCIDENT DATA.

Victim Name: Sheldon Pear

Estimated Age: 34

Occupation: Clockwork Gear-Cutter / Local Artisan

Discovery Time: 03:03 Hours

Location: Alleyway adjacent to the Sector 4 Steam Conduit.

II. CRIME SCENE DYNAMICS & INITIAL OBSERVATIONS

The scene presented an extreme escalation in violence compared to prior months; it had been worse than before. The response of local officers initially contaminated the perimeter due to panic regarding the severe dismemberment.

Position of the Body: The victim was found propped against a brick wall, with a circle drawn via chalk.

Anatomical Scatter: The victim’s one hand was found severed.

III. MEDICAL-LEGAL & MEDICAL FORENSICS (THE THREE ANOMALIES)

Per the preliminary on-scene direction of Det. William Natvin, the local watch, bypassed standard diagnostic procedures to isolate three highly specific, non-accidental markers left by the perpetrator were:

The Victim’s Palm: Witness stated that the right palm of Sheldon Pear was sliced open and a strange small marble ball was put inside.

Ocular Enucleation (The Victim’s Blindness): It had been seen that the victim’s eyes were cleanly plucked out.

Forensic Detail: The orbital sockets show zero signs of jagged tearing. They were removed with a highly specialized, curved medical instrument. Detective William’s report stated that the killer had extreme knowledge of medical instruments.

[End OF REPORT COMPONENT - SHELDON PEAR]

Murphy pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then burnt it with a matchstick, and moved it to his lips. He leaned back against the chair and put the pack back into his pocket, then pulled the second report beneath it.

The name of the victim appeared; his eyes flickered as he read the name...

Victim Name: William Natvin

He quietly read the whole report; everything seemed similar except that time, his liver was taken out instead of his chopped hand. Mo Fei tilted the cigarette in his lips and stared down at the report; a dark, maddening smirk appeared as he read the last words of the report.

Which were:—

A letter was found near William’s body that said a challenge.

Mo Fei casually blew a puff of cigarette smoke into the officer’s face and read the challenge letter aloud: ”Catch me if you can, Detective Natvin.”

The officer blinked in confusion. Murphy gave him a wide mad smile, then put his gun right under the officer’s chin and whispered: ”The letter was addressed to Natvin. But Natvin died weeks ago after trying to solve the case. If you were the real officer assigned to this station, you would have known this file belonged to your dead partner. You have changed the reports, haven’t you? So tell me now, who are you, ’Doctor’?”