FicWad

"Detective Way?"

"Yeah?"

"Another dead body in those serial killer cases." Police chief Bryar said as he dropped a rather thick file onto the younger man's desk. "The dude who thinks he's a god?" Mikey asked, glancing at the manilla folder on his desk with distaste.

"How many serial killers you think we got running around this shithole, kid?" Bryar asked, laughing at his own joke, while Mikey blushed furiously in embarrassment. Ignoring the now red detective, the police chief continued, "I expect ya to go check it out. Forensics can't do anything til ya do."

Mikey just nodded, half to himself. He was somewhat lost in thought as it was. He had only recently joined the police force, and he was already a part of a special department in profiling serial killers. He pulled the file towards him, only to be interrupted by Bryar. "You can read that after you get back, now get crackin'."

Mikey just sighed, taking the sticky note out of the Police Chief's hand, before walking out the door of his office. In reality, it wasn't entirely his office, he had to share if with several other people, but since they were all out of the office at the moment, it was his.

Exiting the building, he crossed the parking lot, to his shitty, beaten up car. It was the same thing he had been driving since high school, and while he knew that he should get something better, it got him from point A to point B, and as such, was good enough for him for the time being.

Plopping himself into the seat, he slammed the door shut behind him, and turned on the ignition. He heard the engine rumble into life, starting the radio and the heater soon after. He turned off the heater, before he put on his seat belt, a reminder that the mornings and nights were beginning to get a bit chilly, an indication that autumn was right around the corner, and after that, winter and the holiday seasons.

He glanced down at the sticky note before he put the ignition into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. He knew the address. Well, not exactly. Rather, he knew the street that he was going to be looking for. It was right near the house he had grown up in, and it was just a block away from the route that he had taken home from school with Gerard every afternoon.

Gerard.

It was better to focus on other things than his brother right now.

Almost without realizing it, he had ended up outside his old childhood home. Ah, the magic of his mind deciding to do things for him without him even realizing it. With a sigh, Mikey drove the remaining couple of blocks to the alleyway that they used to be able to see every day on the way home.

Parking outside of it, he saw the police cars had blocked off the area with flashing lights, and the County Examiner's van was already parked there, along with some guys from forensics. Mikey killed the ignition, and stepped out of the car.

The moment he walked over to the alleyway, he was stopped by a police officer with graying hair and a large bald patch, to match the beer gut he had. "Excuse me sir, only official personnel are allowed here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I'm ah, the new guy, up with the, uh, Profiling Department, and eh, Police Chief Bryar asked me, um, to come, and, well, yanno, check the scene out." Mikey stuttered out. He hadn't expected anyone to question him being there in the first place.

The police officer merely raised an eyebrow at the younger man, who fumbled in his jean pocket, producing his wallet, and inside of it, his police ID.

Seeing it, the police officer stepped aside, telling him, "Alright kid, go on in. Forensics already took some samples, and pictures, but they didn't move much. Try not to touch anything."

Mikey nodded dumbly, stepping forward, careful to avoid stepping on any of the trash that littered the ground. The area had certainly gone downhill in the time that he had moved out from here. Finally, he stopped in front of the body.

It was that of a young man, probably in his early to mid 20's, judging by the look of him, probably a college kid. He had light brown hair, with golden strands showing through here and there. He was of an average height and build, but he seemed to have been kept somewhere away from sunlight for quite a while, as shown by his skin appearing rather light, and probably kept alive on bare minimum requirements of food, as his clothes seemed a bit large on him.

"Any ID?" Mikey asked one of the Forensics crew standing near him. "Haven't even touched the body." the man replied.

The way that this man was dumped down an alleyway full of trash seemed to tell Mikey that whoever did it, probably viewed him as a piece of trash. However, the way that he was laid out, told a different story. It said that the person who did this probably felt some level of remorse for whatever he or she did.

However, there wasn't much more that Mikey could do, or draw conclusions from, until he was able to get back to the precinct and compare the notes of this murder to the previous ones. However, just as he was turning around to go back to his car, something caught his eye. He spun around to face the dead man fully again, and stooped down to get a closer look.

"Track marks." He muttered to himself, before asking a bit louder, "Hey, uh did you guys see this guy's arm?"

"What about it?" one of the forensics crew asked, stepping closer.

"It looks like it has marks on it, like heroin." Mikey said, his mind moving faster than his brain.

The crew member leaned forward, flipping the man's arm over. Then, Mikey could see the track marks there rather clearly. They were faded and healing, as if the man hadn't shot up in several weeks. In fact, it seemed to be the same way as his skin losing it's color. His killer had kept him somewhere, away from the sunlight, and away from drugs.

"Gotta get back to the office." Mikey said suddenly, standing up and rushing back to his car. He had a possible theory.