Henshu (Freak)

Written from the perspective of both criminal and detective, Henshu is about a curious and slightly deranged mass murderer who uses an unusual eye power to determine his victims. Experimentation is his passion, with which he chases obsessively. During th

Knast:

The heart.
An organ of such importance and symbolism. It is the mother of ones life stream, pumping the oxygen throughout the body, thus keeping them alive. It is the ultimate symbol of love, the gesture of someone’s feelings toward another. With every wet pulsation the heart makes, the body lives on.
But what does the heart look like once it has stopped beating?
Furthermore, what does it do in the final moments of death?
Knast wondered this as he pinned down his victim, a bag of deadly tools beside him. The man’s name was Dean Frisk, and he had less than one quarter of an hour before his life line was cut. His remaining minutes were ticking backwards, like the numbers on a microwave oven; Knast could see it with his own eyes.
It was floating above the man’s head, just under his birth name.
Dean Frisk.
00:00:00:00:14:05.
But it hadn’t always been this way. Knast could remember the days when he was still innocent.
When the police were not looking for him.
When his hands were unstained…
Why was he the only person who could see a persons true name and remaining life? Where there others like him, too?
And why was it that he could never see his own life span, no matter how hard he tried? Perhaps he was immortal…
A god.
Knast knew the laws of death better than anyone. He knew that if a person was meant to live, they would always survive.
It mattered not if someone tried to deprive them early of their life; something would always save the victim. This was how he chose his guinea pigs, as he could always see when a person would reach their end.
Knast had the man straddled in his own living room, a hand held firmly around his bottom jaw.
People always seemed colder when they were about to die...
“P-please! Have mercy! I’ve got a family, kids… Don’t kill me, I’m begging you!” Dean pleaded desperately, having given up with bucking. It was his baby girl’s birthday in only a month… His wife was returning from Holland later that night. He missed her so much... If he were to die here, what would happen to them? Who would support them, take care and protect them?
In the next moment, a piece of fabric was held over his nose, strategically placed as he was about to take a breath. Dean breathed in a lungful of the sickly scent, coughing and gagging before passing into a deep sleep.
“If I were to leave you here now, you would die anyway. This is the law of the world. Your doom has already been decided” Knast replied, replacing the cloth in his small bag and removing a scalpel.
He moved himself further down his torso and pressed it upon the sleeping man’s chest, making a T section cut.
He looked at his victim’s decaying life line, and again he wondered; What does the heart look like in it’s exact moment of death?
Soon he would find out…



Ophelia:

Ophelia groaned sleepily as her mobile tore her unceremoniously from sleep. Why were they calling her? She had just done an all nighter, and they still had the guts to interrupt her whilst she was supposed to be sleeping. “This had better be good, Markus” she answered icily, not bothering to check the number. She and her team had spent weeks, months trying to figure out the identity of a murderer they referred to as ‘MK’. He was a smart b*****d, never leaving the smallest trace… sprinkle of a clue. He only ever left an identity mark, snidely letting them know with his damn magnifying glass and letter K. It was awfully frustrating, and many a team had abandoned it. Hers was the last one who offered to tackle it. She was determined, and was not going to let this freak win. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she abandoned it now, not after reading the reports on his previous gruesomely mutilated victims. Some of the things done to these people… Well it made them near unrecognisable. “I’ll be down there as soon as I can…” And so it happened again. MK had taken yet another victim. She felt a tingle of excitement creep up her spine as she pondered the possibilities. This was another chance for her to find more information on him. It only took him to slip up once, to miss one finger print - just one – and they would have the lead which was needed.
The scene in front of the detective was devastating. In the front garden the victims wife was being restrained by a police officer, stopping her from going into the house. She was in hysterics, demanding to see him again whilst crying and scratching and fighting. There was a little girl standing out of the way, looking lost and upset. She was barely older than two or three years… Ophelia walked warily into the house, following the sound of voices. Her nose wrinkled as she stepped into the living room, and she placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh god…” she breathed, looking down at the mangled corpse. There was blood everywhere she looked, soaked into the once cream carpet. The man’s chest was cut horribly open, revealing his innards. She noticed that the tendons around the heart were also severed, as if MK had been looking for something. “What have you found so far?” she asked the room at large, and she tore her eyes from the corpse. “Nothing… As usual. The guys a ghost.” A detective named Tristan Walker piped up “We can’t find a shred of clue about him, except he has a fetish for gruesome crime scenes. We did find a shoe print…” He pointed to a particular mark on the carpet, “But they’re from a brand that almost everyone wears these days. All we know is that they’re men’s, size 11”. Giving a nod, Ophelia began to walk carefully around the crime scene perimeter. There had to be something… anything… to help them out. And then she saw a disturbance in the blood that made her look twice; it was a piece of hair that didn’t look like it belonged to the victim, and a small eyelash. They were laying innocently on top of a horrible pool of blood, and it looked recent… “Quickly, someone give me some tweezers and a couple of bags!” Ophelia exclaimed suddenly, making a handful of nearby detectives jump. Very carefully she picked up the singular hair strands, placing them into two separate bags. It could be nothing. The piece of hair could very easily belong to another detective, so too could the eyelash. But it could just as easily be the one clue they had been searching for… The single slip-up they had anticipated.



Knast:

The water was hot.
It was scolding hot, unbearable, almost excruciating.
It was biting at Knast’s skin as he stood under the shower, and this was how he proffered it. The water running over and off him was a shade of sickly brown, making a horrid trail of wet blood on the shower floor.
Blood…
His body was caked in it. It was everywhere.
His arms.
Torso.
Legs.
Face…
Even staining his blonde hair and knotting within it.
Knast grinned into the dim light as the delicate memory of a dying heart flashed before his eyes. How beautiful it had been.
How… exquisite.
But he had been interrupted. A relative, most probably the victims wife, had arrived home. He had only just enough time to do the finishing touches before he fled through the window. The woman’s distant screams still rang in his ears like poetry.
Stepping from the shower, he began to re-think every action…
Every beautiful moment.
Had those fools discovered his ‘clue’ as of yet? In his opinion, the follicle of hair had been put in a rather obvious position. Perhaps he was being too soft on them. Maybe he should pick someone… Closer to home.
But no.
Knast’s next lamb had already been decided. He mustn’t stray from his own orders. If he couldn’t obey himself, who would control him?
He could wait.
He would observe.
Watch.
Survey.
He would choose the perfect moment, the perfect lamb to slaughter.
Knast was immortal.
A god.
He had all the time in the world…
Slowly padding out of the bathroom, the handsome blonde made his way to a bowl in the middle of his kitchen floor. Within it lay a blood soaked shirt and pants, re-dampened with gasoline.
He could leave no proof. He must never underestimate his enemy… He must respect them.
But d****t!
Those idiots who dared call themselves detectives were useless. They didn’t deserve his respect! How was this world to survive if the people hunting him were supposedly keeping the street’s safe? Curling his top lip, Knast lit a match and threw it into the waiting bowl. It ignited in an explosion of fire, incinerating his clothes in hungry licks of flame.
Turning on the spot, he allowed the fire to lap at his old clothes whilst stalking into his living room. Within, there were many piles of neatly organised documents, all of which Knast knew the contents of. Many of these were investigation reports the same detectives whom had given up on him had failed to solve.
These people seemed incapable of doing anything correctly.
They even had the nerve to send his own report to him... Of course Knast had bluntly refused. He wasn’t about to help the enemy push him into a corner. He would not allow his pride to control him…
But it was oh-so-tempting.
No.
He would put his own detective skills to a job monotonous and intellectually insulting. That was what he commanded himself to do. That is the order in which he was bound to obey… however much he wish to do other wise.



Ophelia:

Time.
Noun.
A system of measuring or reckoning the passage of time. A limited period or interval, as between two successive events.
Events such as the damn forensics department doing their jobs and sending the test results in! With a crossed over foot dancing impatiently in time to her fingers rapping on the table, Ophelia Stemmard glanced over to her desk clock for the fifth time in two minutes. They had half an hour before she would march upstairs and breathe fire down their throats. She wanted the DNA samples back now. She needed them back. She had spent so long looking for something like this. Too long. This was her one chance to catch MK out.
Twenty five pain staking minutes later the phone rang, causing a highly irritated detective to answer. “What? I’m just about to beat the crap out of forensics. Make it quick” Ophelia snarled into the phone, and was surprised to hear chuckling on the other end. “Calm down, Miss. We have your results now. Come on up and take a look if you like” and without answering she slammed the phone back onto it’s hook. If she liked?! Those infuriatingly brainy comedians upstairs were always so laid back…
There was a soft sounding of a bell, signalling the lift’s departure on the designated floor. Her entire body was quivering with anticipation. She and her team had worked so hard for something like this. It was about freaking’ time they had something to show for it. She was hardly a step through the door when a blue file was thrust at her, a smirking forensics officer on the other end. “We had these ready for you for ages. We just wanted to see how pissed off you’d get…” he grinned, putting the detective in an instant foul mood. Ophelia snatched the file from him and stormed straight out of the room again, the words “You’re welcome! We love you too!” being sung after her.

 

Knast:

The room was cold and damp, only a dim light allowing it’s features to be made out. Upon an old chest of drawers lay an open packet of matches, some used ones scattered around it.
There is a stained mirror on a back wall. Where ones head would usually reflect spider web fractures and dents reside, dried and coagulated blood stuck within the cracks.
The cracked shards of glass reflect dry and neglected carpet, on top of which lies the legs of a worn out bed suite.
Sprawled on the sheeted mattress, a man’s slender fingers dance on the keys of a portable computer, the monitor glow casting shadows on his features. As a detective, he had untraceable access to all citizen information.
As a murderer, this was quite the advantage.
He knew who his next lamb was. The only issue was finding and capturing it.
He could still remember her face.
She had rather nice looking features, only to be blemished by the distinct lack of life between her and her name.
That was all he was interested in.
Nothing else.
His curiosity of the extensiveness of human survival overpowered his simple sense of right or wrong.
It controlled it.
But under the spotlight of public and police scrutiny, he adopted the charade of righteous detective. This is what was required of him, and this is was what kept him alive.
The dark eyes scanning the screen stopped, finally falling on what they had been looking for.
Maria Kerbilinsky.
00:00:13:16:08:05.
Knast had found the Lamb.



Ophelia:

Was this a joke?
It had to be.
No way could this woman have been at the crime scene… It was impossible. The statement and alibi proved as much… Unless they were working together. Ophelia found that highly implausible, seeing as this alibi was a teacup collecting grandma. The closest this woman got to a murder scene was her weekly Days of Our Lives soap. So then why did the pregnant Kerbilinsky woman have her hair at the murder scene? She didn’t know Mr or Mrs Frisk, and it was quite obvious she wasn’t anywhere near there when Mr Frisk died.
What about that damn eyelash? No leads on that whatsoever. She was certain that it belonged to MK, but it was utterly useless. Nothing could be found here.
“You can let her go now…” Ophelia said to the people keeping her in custody. D****t! What the hell was MK doing now? It was another one of his wicked games, for sure, and this poor mother-to-be was right in the middle of it. In a split second decision, the detective rushed out of the surveillance room and over to Mrs Kerbilinsky. “I am so sorry to have bothered you, ma’am. May I ask you one more favour before you leave?” she asked, the authority leaving her voice. Maria smiled at her, resting a hand on her stomach. “Fire away. I’ve got all day”
“We believe that you may be in the middle of something serious. For confidential reasons, we aren’t allowed to tell you what it is, but I would like to keep you and your house under surveillance. Of course, we will be doing this whether we get your permission or not.” Ophelia smiled at the woman in front of her, but the gesture was not returned.
“You mean that I’m under house arrest?” she asked,
“No… Well yes. Kind of. It’s for your protection, and at the same time it may give us a lead on the investigation. You are welcome to leave the house whenever you wish, just be aware you will have someone tailing you.” It took Maria a good few moments to digest this change, but then eventually nodded in understanding.
“Thankyou, ma’am. There will be people over tomorrow morning to install the equipment. Your cooperation is appreciated, so thankyou,” and with that, Ophelia headed back into the main department. She would catch MK, no matter what it took!



Knast:

11:07pm
The night was dark
Only the moonlight and occasional street lamp lit his way as the blonde man walked steadily down Shylock Avenue. He would need to jump a fence to get access to the lamb’s house. She had installed surveillance around the property for just over a week now.
It was a pain.
An unnecessary nuisance.
His lamb was well protected.
Yet none of this phased Knast. He knew there was a way into the house where he could remain undetected. The issue was accessing it. It was going to be tricky, but the rewards were worth it.
His next experiment was grand.
Thirty long minutes dragged by before Knast finally found what he was looking for. The entrance was that of a small bathroom window, just big enough to allow his thin body access through it. Nobody locks the bathroom window, nor does anyone install camera’s in them. This was the safest way in.
Knast landed silently on the cold tiled floor, his bag resting beside him. The house was well fitted with the cameras. It would be difficult to catch the lamb undetected.
She needed to come to him.
Like chalk on a blackboard, his fingers scratched at the door.
Maria, who had been experiencing stomach cramps all afternoon, found the noise emitting from the bathroom unusual. Was it a rat in the roof, perhaps? She tenderly made her way towards the source of the noise, her hands resting gently on her stomach.
As soon as the door opened, Knast made his move.
With a hand held firmly across her mouth, Maria was dragged quite unceremoniously across the tiled floor. There was a sharp blow to her throat as she attempted to scream for help, and she held her stomach tighter as she was dropped on the floor. Was this the ‘something serious’ detective Stemmard had mentioned the other week?

11:43pm
The brain.
It is the source of life current which keeps one alive. It is the control booth of a persons destiny. Without this organ, all others would be lost.
Without it, one couldn’t survive.
Knast had his plans. He had the experiment laid out in his mind. Yet he was unable to do anything with it. The lamb of which he had spent so much of his time hunting, so many hours looking for… Well she was useless.
Worthless.
A waste of his precious time.
It was infuriating
He had not factored in a pregnancy. He had come to experiment on this woman as she was dying. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she was dying to give birth to another. This child would certainly have a life line. And if he attempted to interfere, it would merely result in his capture.
He had lost.
This experiment was rotten.
Unusable.
Knast reached down to hold the pregnant woman’s hand as yet another cramp engulfed her. She didn’t see, nor did she feel the scalpel tucked neatly away behind the blonde man’s sleeve. He would need her blood, one way or another.
What a fine index finger she had; It would certainly suffice as the tool of his identity mark.
Knast grinned at the sickening crunch of blade through bone, and praised himself for the gag he had placed in the woman’s mouth. It would be most unfortunate if she alerted the detectives outside to his presence.
He didn’t need another nuisance.
The mirror surface was indeed slippery. It made the calligraphy of his unique letter ‘K’ short work. All that was left was his magnifying glass, which he laid underneath the mirror, and a small business card which he tucked inconspicuously behind the cup of toothbrushes.
It was time for him to leave, yet something held him back.
What was the woman doing now?
A phone.
Well if she called for help, he would have more than enough time to escape.
Maria held the third number on her cellular phone.
Autodial.
It would access detective Stemmard instantly… it was her only hope.
“This is Stemmard speaking. What is it Mrs Kerbilinsky? Are you okay?”
Suddenly the phone was snatched from Maria’s hands, and looking up she saw the horrible man grasping it with a cloth.
“You had better hurry. The poor little lamb isn’t doing very well, now is she?” Knast kept his voice unrecognisable, husking it and putting on an accent. Looking down at Maria, he saw she truly didn’t have long to go. Time was running out.
Maria Kerbilinsky.
00:00:00:00:06:02
“You have just over five minutes to save the lamb. Hurry hurry, scurry scurry. How horrible would it be if she died? It would be all your fault, too…” Knast let himself chuckle, enjoying the taunting he was giving his nemesis. It was his way of venting the anger and frustration on this scenario, and his laughter merely increased at the voice on the other end.
“Five minutes thirty. Tsk tsk. Time is surely ticking, yet I promise you she wont survive. I’ll bet my freedom on it… I’ll see you soon, Mrs Stemmard.” and with his final words, Knast let the cellular phone slip from the fabric he then stuffed in his pocket, and made a clean escape through the same window of which he entered.
This had truly been a waste of his time.
A true failure.



Ophelia:

Ever heard of the phrase, ‘be careful what you wish for’? Nothing in the world could ever have more truth in it. Ophelia had an entire library of nasty things she wished to say to MK, but when she had the frightful confrontation with him she paled and gone numb. He was such a freak, yet slippery as smoke; And she had been so damn close it was scary.
“Detective?” said Marcus behind her. “Mrs Kerbilinsky’s death was at 11:51pm. She died of childbirth, and the only injury MK inflicted on her was the amputation of her left index finger… even though, he still left the magnifying glass and the stereotypical capital K. He also predicted the victim’s death…” Markus suddenly stopped talking as the red haired detective slammed her fist on the table, her obvious distress and anger at failing reverberating off her.
“We know MK predicted the time of death. Hell, he was so correct it was scary. But the fact MK has an uncanny gift for predicting a death isn’t going to help us here!” Ophelia ran her fingers through her mildly oiled hair, her eyes flicking over all the papers she had spread around. “What I want to know is why he didn’t do anything. He could have quite easily killed the infant, and then continued with his murder. What is he doing now...?” she muttered to no one in particular. That b*****d was planning something, she was sure of it. The trick was getting to it before he did, and then hoping to high hell she wasn’t killed in the process.
“Detective… I think it’s time you went home. Get some sleep, refresh, take a shower. Do something to get your mind off this for a while” Markus said to her softly. As much as he had high respect for the woman, he cared for her deeply. Recently, and especially tonight, she had just down right scared him.
“What do you mean take my mind off this? If there is something so damn ridiculous that could possibly avert my attention from this man, I don’t wanna know about it…” she snapped, immediately regretting it by the mans expression. “Sorry… Yeah you’re right. I’ll see you all tomorrow, then” and without a second glance she exited the building.
As Ophelia drove through the mild late night traffic, she couldn’t get the frightening conversation out of her mind. I’ll see you soon Mrs Stemmard. For starters, how had he known her name? Ophelia guessed he had overheard her answering the phone. Second of all, he claimed they would be meeting in person. For a person as dangerous as he, this couldn’t be overlooked. What the hell was he going to attempt to do with her? The mere though made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Ophelia slowly brought the car to a stop. Instead of going straight home, she had decided to check over the Kerbilinsky residence once more, in case something else came up like last time. After ducking under the police tape and opening a door, she made a direct bee line for the bathroom. Her top lip curled in disgust when the first thing she saw was the capital K pasted on the mirror. Who the hell did this sicko think he was? The red haired detective pulled a glove from her pocket, turning on a light as she closely scrutinised everything her eyes fell on. The magnifying glass distorted the pattern on the bench top, making the little speckled pattern seem even uglier up close. What was the point of this? Why did he leave it at every crime scene? Perhaps if I look at everything through this I’ll find the clue this way, she thought bitterly, and then stopped. Was that what he was trying to say? Look closer? Ophelia did another search of the room, looking at everything that could possibly be used as a hiding spot for evidence. Suddenly her eyes fell on a small tucked away business card she hadn’t noticed before. It was tucked behind the toothbrushes, and contained a number of a plumber. This was irrelevant. Finding a plumbers card in the bathroom was not out of place. Deciding it would be better to check anyway, she slipped the card into a plastic bag and then into her purse. She would check the number tomorrow.
Ophelia spent a good hour checking absolutely everything in the bathroom, thus returning with a few more bags of suspected potential evidence. After re-securing the house she drove herself home, showering before collapsing on her bed and sleeping where she fell. Her first sleep in three days.

-tbc-
 

By J.M Selleck

Author's Note

Okaaay!
This was written a good few months ago, and some help was given from a friend of mine, Jess Masding, on some of the experiment ideas.
As it says before, it's a loose Death Note fanfiction, but it doesn't require any knowledge of the series or the Note to understand... I hope (Some feedback on that would be good. I'm too obsessed with DN to really notice)
Knast was based on the character Beyond Birthday. Oh how I love that man and his Jam fettish, LOL!!

Please rate and review. It would really give me the confidence and such to continue with this. Any ideas you would like to see, or anything such as that, just say so. Think greusome, people!

Still searching for that Keyblade;
J.M Selleck

Reviews

[Ibex]

I'm obsessed with Death Note as well (the avatar gives it away) so I don't blame you for using the 'life remaining' floating above their heads thing.

I really like the intro, it really eased me into the story. I hate it when a story starts off terribly, it starts off on the wrong foot and sometimes it's difficult to write an intro that just sinks in so congrats! You have really good detail so I can really visualize what's going on.

This whole story was really good! It felt similar to Death Note and you threw in your own twist which is what I like the best! You portray Knast as a really sick mass murderer but he's a smart one which makes it really interesting because I don't know what's going to happen next.

All in all, keep writing because this story has a great deal of potential and it seems like you put a lot of effort into this. Keep up the good work!

P.S: If you're still good on your offer of accepting some ideas, what Knast used someone's intestines to strangle the person? That was the most gruesome thing I could think of. Sorry if it sucks =D

[Dawn]

Hey there I havent any clue as to death note... but i followed this really easily, well done hun, i loved the two different characters, and liked the was it interacted with each other.

I loved the section with the pregnant lady, it was really well thought of and described. You should continue hun, its a good piece, and anyways, you should never stop writing, even if you do have another idea keep the others in a safe place untill the urge to continue happens once more...
Dawn