Hell's Detective · Murder

Prologue

The child murders an insect in the name of fun or annoyance.

The crusader murders heathens in the name of God.

The police officer murders a criminal in the name of protecting the law.

The woman murders her abusive husband in the name of self defense.

The soldier murders a foreign soldier in the name of war and for his country.

A criminal murders a witness in the name of hiding his crimes and avoiding prosecution.

All in all, murder is in the name of the murderer.

* * * *

It is quiet in one small suburb tonight. No one is driving down the streets or walking down the sidewalks. The small playground is empty, the swings swaying lightly in the soft wind. The buildings are dark and without light, the street lamps shining upon the empty streets for any that are traveling this night to see that not a single soul is out. The houses range from one floor buildings to two, each with a driveway and a decent-size backyard. The grass in the front yards is a perfect shade of green and cut perfectly by the owners. The flower petals of the gardens are tight in buds until the morrow, when the sun begins to shine. Many call this suburb the perfect place to raise a family. No crimes being committed, no one causing damage to the other’s property or gangs painting graffiti on the buildings or selling drugs to the children. Everyone knows their neighbor and there are no secrets between them.

However, that all is going to change this one night.

At a simple house on a small street, the door is slightly ajar. It is odd, for the people keep their doors closed and locked at night. There is no sign that the door was forced open, yet there is no one to investigate why this one house has the front door open. Within the house, a strange squelching sound can be heard from the dark master bedroom. A dark figure is hunch over the large bed, holding the handle of a large knife that he pulls out of the occupants in the bed. The figure looks at the dark red fluid dripping off the bright gray steel, the large drops falling onto the dark green carpet and staining the soft fabric. The smell of copper fills the room, but only the figure can smell it. It is almost euphoric, better than a woman's perfume or a man's cologne. The figure stares at the knife for a moment longer before picking up the comforter and wiping the knife clean. The figure inspects the knife to make certain that it is thoroughly clean of blood before sheathing it and walking out of the master bedroom. The figure takes one look into what appears to be a child’s bedroom before leaving the house. The figure closes the front door and disappears into the night, no one to witness what has occurred.

The crime has went perfectly, waiting now for someone to discover it.

* * * *

“Damn,” a police officer curses as he stares at the bed in the master bedroom, “This makes it two dead families in the same week.”

“The alarm had been tampered with from the outside,” another police officer informs, “The company didn’t even receive notice about it. Our perp is a pro.”

Upon the bed before them are a man and a woman that have multiple stab wounds upon their bodies, their pajamas soaked with their life fluids. Their eyes remain closed and appear to be sleeping, despite the fact that they are dead. One corner of the comforter has stains from where the police suspect that the murderer had wiped his weapon clean on. The victims are a married couple that have been known as a kind family that could not have any enemies at all to warrant such an assault upon them. Even worse, the couple had a two year-old son that had been found in his bedroom. He also sported multiple stab wounds like his parents.

“The perp is very sick to do this to such a young child,” the first police officer states in anger, looking down at the deceased child, “I have a son around his age. This is like my nightmare coming true, only it is for these poor folks.”

“I haven’t found any fingerprints on the front door,” a third police officer reports, “I also checked the other rooms downstairs and found nothing. I need to check up here now, if you guys are all done with your investigation.”

“Hopefully he was dumb enough to leave us with at least something for us to work with,” the second police officer comments as he and his partner head downstairs.

“The reporters are already here,” the third police officer informs, getting a few groans from her fellow officers, “Luckily, it’s not Marie Kenyon this time.”

“Good. I hate that bitch.”

“You’re not the only one.”

* * * *

“Thank you Ben,” the male reporter said to the camera being held by his camera man, “As you can see, police are already investigating the mysterious stabbing of the Parlisan Family here in the Wounsdear suburb of northern Jamerson City. James Parlisan, age thirty-five, was found in bed with his wife, thirty-one year old Barbara Parlisan, stabbed to death while they were sleeping. Their two year-old son, Daniel, was also found in his own bedroom in the same manner. Reports are coming in that the mysterious stabbings coincide with the Beauticia Family murder just six days ago, as well as the Keepan Family, Villia Family, and Chu Family murders in the last five months. Police are asking if anyone has any information of the murders to either call anomalously or visit the station in person. The address of your local police station can be found on our website at...”

Within the distance, two individuals wearing robes are watching the house from afar on a roof top. No one pays attention to them, too lost in the investigation to even look above and find it strange that somebody would be watching a crime scene from a roof. Even if anyone were to look, they would not see anyone or anything.

“The souls of those poor families,” one of the individuals muses, robed head low, “They are lost to Purgatory now.”

“Something must be done,” the second individual states, “The police are at a loss in finding the criminal. If nothing is done, more families will die.”

“It is not our place to intervene,” the first individual informs, “The mortal world is off limits to us. The only ones that can help with the investigation are the young ones on missions or-“

“We will not go down that path,” the second individual states angrily, “They are fallen. They are lost to us forever.”

“Several of our young ones do not think so. The war has been at a standstill for generations. They had time to converse and even become friends.”

“Yet those bonds they form will be their downfall once the End of Days comes. Upon that time, none will be spared.”

“Let us return for now. We have to make our report.”

With that said, the two individuals disappear, unaware that they had someone from the shadows spying on them just as they were spying on the scene below.

"Try all you like," the voice whispers with giddy, "You, nor your allies, will find out the truth. This deal I made is the best one yet, and will bear fruit for me soon."

* * * *

It is said that there is a world that is hidden from the eyes of mortals, a world that makes itself known upon one’s death, and the knowledge is lost upon one’s rebirth. It is a world at war for many millenniums, but now waits until the time is perfect, for the war will eventually drag the world of mortals into it as well.

Yet there are a few mortals that are aware of the other world. There are aware of those that fight against those from the other world, those that are impatient and cannot wait for the perfect time. Although rare in these modern times, rumors whisper that there is one such protector amongst the mortals. However, not all is as it seems, for this one protector has secrets that very few are aware of...and even fewer that are still alive to tell.