Officer Trevor Baxter groaned as he walked the long hallway to solitary confinement. Some member of the Legion had been apprehended earlier that day - it was about damn time - but he shouldn't have been the one taking dinner to him.
Officer Alvarado had been assigned to the solitary wing again, this time with closer surveillance on her. She, however, had staunchly refused to go anywhere near solitary again. When the sergeants tried to persuade her, she'd stomped her foot and snapped at them.
"Every time I go to solitary, I find someone dead! I'm not going this time. Those cells have a hex on them."
She was being silly. Hexes didn't exist, and there was no reason Hot Rod would be dead within 12 hours of his arrest. And when they'd drawn straws to determine who'd take her place, Trever had been the loser.
He walked down the hallway, wishing he was anywhere else. Solitary was too quiet - ghostly even. If he wasn't certain the supernatural didn't exist, he'd probably be really spooked. But, Trevor was a military officer. He was strong. And he had a raygun.
As he got closer to the cell, a strange smell started to assault his nostrils. What on earth was Hot Rod doing in there? Not that he could do much locked up like he was, but seriously. The smell got worse as he got closer, mixed with something else he didn't bother to place. Probably excrement or something.
Trevor finally got to the door, feeling a bit out of breath. What on earth was going on?
No matter. He was here, and now it was time for him to get out. He knocked on the door.
"Jakob Beasley, dinnertime." He opened the flap for the food tray and stopped.
Some kind of red substance was drying just on the other side. As he saw it, the smell cemented in his mind.
Blood.
He dropped the tray and grabbed for his radio.
"Backup! Jackob Beasley's cell has blood in it. I'm going to head in and make sure everything's okay." He stowed the radio, even as Sergeant Rollins yelled back at him.
"No! Baxter! Do not go in there. It could be a ploy to - "
By the time Rollins got that far, Trevor had already opened the door.
Beyond was the messiest corpse he'd ever seen. So messy, Trevor fell to his knees in the hallway and left his own supper on the floor of it.
"Someone hated you, didn't they?" Dr. Luna said quietly as he examined Hot Rod's corpse. He was wearing one of the oxygen tanks the Techs used when working outside the city. When the lieutenant had brought him to the cell initially, he'd noticed smoke in the air and insisted they go back for breathing equipment.
Most people never had to think about their air quality. Elian himself didn't usually consider it. He'd learned about the effects poor air could have on a human body back in medical school, but he had impressed himself by remembering that smoke, caused by fire, could bring about death.
But Jakob Beasley had not died of simple smoke inhalation. No, there were bullet wounds throughout his body. Not like Phantasma, who'd just been injected with drugs. Not like Scattershot, whose fatal wound had been clean. Elian had examined the body carefully and found five separate entry wounds. One was in his chest. Another through his neck, the same place as Scattershot's. A third went through his left temple. The fourth looked like it had been sent into the back of his head at point-blank range. Finally, a fifth was in his right leg. Blood had poured profusely from that one.
"Bring him back to my lab," Elian said, finishing taking notes from his preliminary exam. "And make sure no one enters solitary until the air's been purified."
"What do we do, Dr. Luna?" Sergeant Rollins asked, looking like he was going to be sick. Elian wasn't immune to the sight either, but he had to keep his head on straight. If everyone lost it, things would just get worse.
"First, bring Hot Rod down to the lab. I'll do some more thorough checks. This looks like a much more passionate act than the last two. They were...almost clinical in their simplicity. You check the security footage and make sure nothing's gone strange."
"There won't be any footage," Rollins replied sadly. "Beasley wrecked the security cam."
Dr. Luna sighed.
"Then see what other evidence you can find. I'll check his body for other contributing factors. Ask General McGuire how he wants to handle this. He can get back to me on it later."
Elian didn't like it, but he'd probably have to manipulate the autopsy somehow. Depending on how much the smoke had affected his lungs, he might be able to get away with a story about how Jakob Beasley died of self-inflicted smoke inhalation. That, at least, wouldn't implicate the military too much.
If anyone saw the corpse, though, they'd know that smoke inhalation wasn't all there was to it. He'd have to pound through the autopsy, get every scrap of information and evidence he could, then cremate the body and let General McGuire manipulate the information however he desired.
In the meantime, the officers could work on cleaning up the cell and seeing what information they could get from it. Hopefully the more emotional nature of this crime meant the perpetrator had made mistakes they could use to track them.
"I found something," Officer Davis called, picking up a scrap of something with her tweezers. It looked almost like fabric, but the edge was black and hardened and most of it was soaked in blood.
"What is it?" Lieutenant Collier asked, kneeling down next to Davis.
"Fabric, maybe? We can have someone analyze it." She put it into an evidence bag, then sealed it.
"Hope that blood belongs to our perp. Maybe Hot Rod did some damage before he went out," Collier said.
Even though she said it, she knew it was overly optimistic. The fabric had come from Hot Rod's blood pool, after all. But, evidence was evidence. Maybe something would come of it. Even if not now, someday.
She just hoped that day was soon. If the killings continued, things would only get worse.
"Damn," Odin muttered. "Left a piece of evidence behind, did we, Darius?"
"Did we?" the robot asked, looking down at his master.
"Oh well. Not like they'll be able to trace it to us. That's why I have you wear the most generic clothes I can find when I send you on cleanup duty."
"Should I find new clothing?" Darius asked.
"No, don't worry about it. They'll be monitoring purchases for the time being," Odin replied with a sigh. "For now, just go get me some tea. With cream, if you don't mind."
"Of course." Darius turned and left the room while Odin closed the file and moved onto more important things.
