"Didn't I tell you cops don't get weekends?"
Marco looked up from the case file he'd been reviewing and raised an eyebrow at Darnell, who was slouched in a chair looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. Which, knowing Darnell, he probably had.
"What are you talking about? You're the one who insisted on coming back to work."
"Yeah, well..." Darnell yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. "Beats sitting in my apartment staring at the walls."
Marco was about to respond when Edward walked into the forensics lab. He was carrying a stack of files under one arm and a cup of coffee.
"Ed," Marco called out. "Don't you ever take a day off? You're practically living at the precinct."
Edward set his files down on one of the examination tables and adjusted his glasses. "I'm fine. The new equipment and database access you secured for forensics are more convenient than any entertainment." He paused, then added quietly, "Besides, it's quiet here."
Marco understood that. Edward wasn't great with crowds or noise. The lab was his sanctuary.
"Alright, suit yourself." He scratched his head and sighed. "If we could recover that money Black Mask stole, I'd apply for funding to build a singles' dorm here. Then I could finally cancel that shitty apartment lease. Six hundred bucks a month for a place with water damage and a broken heater. It makes me want to go beat up Cobblepot even more. Forget it."
He waved his hand. "Speaking of work, Gordon dumped a case on me to help out with… oh, and I just learned his daughter's already fifteen. I always thought she was like five or six."
"How could she be five or six when he's almost forty?" Darnell shook his head.
"Guess I need to pay more attention to stuff like that, no wonder the gift I gave him last time didn't land well."
Edward had already moved to one of the large freezer units along the wall. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened the drawer. Cold air hissed out, condensing into white mist.
"Marco," he said without looking back. "Stop chatting and give me a hand. Let's focus on the case."
"Yeah, yeah. You're right."
Marco and Darnell moved to help, the three of them working together to slide the heavy metal drawer out along its rails. The body inside was covered with a white sheet.
They transferred the drawer's contents onto a mobile gurney, then wheeled it over to the examination table under the bright overhead lights.
"Let's begin."
Edward adjusted the recording device hanging nearby and pressed the record button. His voice took on a more formal tone.
"Starting last week, the Gotham Police Department, including the East End Precinct, received multiple reports regarding the discovery of human remains. The East End cases were initially transferred to headquarters for handling."
Marco and Darnell exchanged smug looks and high-fived each other.
"Yes, thank you for that reminder," Edward said dryly, not looking up. "However, all cases have now been consolidated, and the files and physical evidence have been returned to our jurisdiction."
He pulled back the sheet, revealing what lay beneath.
"Yesterday afternoon, headquarters transported all remains discovered at different locations to this facility. I conducted a preliminary examination and classification."
He picked up a pair of long metal forceps and indicated a separated shoulder joint. "The dismemberment tool. The cut is extremely refined."
He adjusted the position of the recording device and leaned closer to the remains. "Look here, the way the tendons and ligaments were separated. This wasn't brute force chopping. The killer is familiar with human anatomy. He avoided the bones that would dull the blade most easily and worked directly through the joint gaps. That requires professional surgical knowledge or extensive experience with butchering."
Marco had retreated to the doorway, arms crossed, watching Edward work. "A butcher? Or a doctor?"
"Both are possible, but I lean toward the latter. Now observe these cut surfaces outside the joints. Even though the bodies were submerged in water, you can still see that the wounds are relatively smooth. A large, sharp, single-edged blade was used, definitely not an ordinary household knife or chainsaw. The killer is very strong, capable of severing the spine with a single blow, but he seems more inclined to display skill rather than sheer strength."
Edward moved to examine something else. "However, the stitching on the suspect's work is extremely crude. Like a butcher attempting embroidery."
He continued his examination, occasionally making notes or adjusting the remains for a better view. "The mask components carry a mixed smell of disinfectant and rancid grease. Some parts are latex products, others are animal fur. Most are joined by stitching, but some sections were melted at high temperatures and bonded with chemical adhesives directly to the face. This suggests a certain sense of ritual. Or obsession."
"If Ed switched careers and became a serial killer, he'd be a nightmare to catch," Marco muttered to Darnell.
Edward looked up sharply. Marco fell silent immediately, and Darnell didn't say a word either.
"The victim's body shows multiple signs of modification or cosmetic surgery. The brain tissue is deformed. Alcohol levels in the body are severely elevated, it's not yet clear whether this was externally introduced or the result of mutation."
He removed his gloves, pulled over a display board, and pinned several detailed photographs onto it with magnets. The images showed close-ups of the stitching work, the cut surfaces, and what appeared to be reconstruction attempts.
"Pay attention to one key point," he said, tapping the photos with his pen. "If you observe the stitching on the bodies in the approximate order in which the fragments were discovered, you'll see that the killer's stitches became increasingly fine and orderly. The last few pieces found, especially the facial reconstruction, are already very well executed."
Marco stepped closer, studying the photographs. "He's getting better?"
Edward pushed up his glasses. "Based on the current reconstruction, his work tends toward modifying and assembling human limbs into an image resembling some kind of grotesque hybrid."
He picked up a marker and began writing on the display board.
"He views the human body as an object that can be disassembled and reassembled at will. He exhibits an intense desire for control and degradation, reducing victims from the level of 'human' to mere flesh. This provides him with a twisted sense of satisfaction and power. This behavior may stem from severe trauma he himself once suffered, something related to appearance, identity, or self-worth."
"Fuck," Marco muttered. "Another lunatic. That's the worst kind. We can't even work backwards from the victims' connections if there's no pattern."
Edward didn't respond to the complaint. Instead, he pulled out a map of Gotham and hung it on the board. Multiple locations were circled in red marker.
"These red circles indicate confirmed body-dump sites. They're scattered all over Gotham, with no apparent geographic logic. I want to personally revisit these locations and see if headquarters missed any subtle clues."
"Alright." Marco pulled out his phone. "Otis and I will go with you."
Before he could dial, his phone rang. Unknown number.
Marco gestured for silence and put the phone on speaker, setting it on the examination table between the three of them.
"Captain Vitale. I have information on Black Mask."
The voice had been altered by a modulator.
"I'm listening. Go ahead."
"He has a base at Dixon Docks, but it's mostly been abandoned now. Two blocks away, on Brandon Avenue, there's a defunct moving company called Express Movers. The basement is their new base. I'll contact you again if I get more information."
The line went dead.
Marco looked at Edward, who was already jotting down notes. Without hesitation, he pulled up Detective Gordon's number and dialed.
---
Two hours later, Marco stood next to his black E350 assault vehicle in a staging area three blocks from the target location. The air was cold, the sky overcast, and the streets were empty except for the line of police vehicles assembling behind him.
Gordon approached, looking exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, his tie slightly loosened, his coat wrinkled.
"Marco." He gripped his hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you for coming to support us."
"It's nothing." Marco smiled and patted the side of his vehicle. "I'll take point. You follow behind me."
Gordon's expression was grateful but concerned. "I really didn't expect—"
"Don't overthink it." Marco climbed into the driver's seat. "Let's just get this done."
The E350 roared to life, and Marco pulled out to the front of the convoy. Darnell was in the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt and looking confused.
"I've got to ask... Why are we taking point for headquarters? You don't usually volunteer for this kind of thing."
Marco glanced at him. "Why do you think? I don't really trust that tip, but what if it's legitimate?"
He checked the rearview mirror, watching the long line of GCPD vehicles following them. "If it is real, think about how much Black Mask stole. No matter what happens, we should get a share of the recovery."
Darnell's eyes widened slightly. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." Marco adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "Remember, don't get out of the car when we arrive."
"Why not?"
"Just don't."
Marco used the vehicle comms to call Gordon again.
"We need to talk tactics. How do you plan to breach? Stand at the door and shout 'GCPD'? If there really are armed hostiles inside, your people will get cut down immediately. I'm thinking flashbangs and a window breach."
Gordon's voice came through the speakers. "No. We can't confirm whether the intelligence is reliable. What if there are civilians inside? None of us can handle the public backlash."
"And what about your officers' lives?"
Silence. The only sounds were the rumble of engines and the rush of wind past the windows. The convoy passed through the Square, getting closer to Brandon Avenue with every block.
Finally, Gordon asked, "Do you have any less aggressive ideas?"
"I've got one. Not a great one, but it might work."
"I'm listening."
"My vehicle's pretty sturdy. I'll hit the siren and reverse straight through the front entrance at speed. You prep your people behind me in a standard breach formation. If we've got the right place and there are hostiles, you open fire immediately. If it turns out to be ordinary civilians..." He shrugged even though Gordon couldn't see it. "We say it was a gear-shift error. Equipment malfunction. You'll have to cover the cost of the busted door and any structural damage, though. How about it?"
There was a long pause.
"...Alright," Gordon said finally. "We'll do it your way."
"Good call."
Marco ended the transmission and turned onto Brandon Avenue. The target building was just ahead, an old, three-story structure with faded signage that read "Express Movers" in peeling paint. Most of the windows on the upper floors were broken or boarded up, and the loading bay doors were rusted shut.
It looked abandoned. But then again, that was the point.
He was about to radio Gordon again when Darnell suddenly pointed ahead, and shouted, "Look over there!"
---
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