chainmail chapter 3

it all started out rather lengthy... never finished it tho

The smell of meat in the stages of decay sang through the old factory. The victim, a gaunt figure, a puppet with metal strings swayed slightly spilling refuse on the floor. The stations homicide team picked through the room dusting for prints, snapping pictures, cataloging the entirety of the atrocity. The man was kept alive with an iv, tourniquets, and so on for around two to three days it seems. He was minus a leg, one testicle, a great portion of his skin, and a few fingers on his right hand. A trash can to the right of the body was filled with biological refuse and gave a smell of meat mixed with blood. In the right corner was a sink, now stained red and filled with metal pins of varying length of which some were serrated and covered with blood and bits of flesh. The CSI were busy with the task for cataloging and taking pictures of the bloody mess. Frayes was beside himself and his gut bore the brunt of the attack. He stood and gathered his bearings amidst the vomit and shock as such a scene. The notepad in his breast pocket was retreived in an instant and he took real inspective notice since his first contact with the dead man. The man was clearly in his early thirties but his pesonal effect had all but vanished it seemed. However, a police officer did find a pair of pants tossed into a corner. The article reeked of urine and still had spots of blood and was torn in the left leg right above the knee. Upon further inspection a book of matches was found in one of the leg pockets. On the cover was the sigil of the Killmont Club. One of the hill's older establishments and haven to the spoiled and greedy children of the wealthier citizens. "I thought this guy smelled like money," Marcus started, he was picking up bits of flesh from the floor with tweasers. "Shouldn't be hard to id him then, if he's tied to this towns money his parents should be throwing a million dollar fit sooner or later." Fraye's composure flowed back into him and he lit another cigarette. The room has ceased to stop spinning and he knew the predator couldn't be far from the scene. In the meantime he resolved to pay a visit to the club once the scene was investigated properly. His cell phone shook in his pocket, he already knew who is was and decided for both their benefits not to answer. Ex-wives and dead bodies just don't mix at four in the morning.

 

 

Author's Note

ingnore all the same stuff from the first two chapters.