Flash Fiction time again.

This week Chuck Wendig sent us to this theyfightcrime.org to get a flash fiction prompt.  The site presents you with the most amazing, if a little repetitive, crime-fighting duos.

I think I refreshed twenty times and in the end I chose “He is an ungodly neurotic werewolf in drag. She is a time-traveling stripper with an evil twin sister. They fight crime!”

This was much harder than the last prompt, there’s a lot of characteristics to fit in and a 1000 words is so constricting for me. Good practice though. Word count is 999 in Scrivener.

Blood

by Trine Toft Schmidt

Serapheena stepped back from the door to room 3251 and spread her arms in a mock welcome. Corwin eyed her suspiciously and she smiled her good-girl smile and held his gaze.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the cops look at him, talking about him with tight lips and beady eyes. They were probably all holding their breaths, waiting for the inevitable. Corwin, as always, was oblivious to the attention.

His eyes flickered, and Serapheena widened her smile. He stepped around her and into the room.

“FUCK ALMIGHTY” His voice was two octaves lighter as he stumbled backwards out into the hallway.

A beat-cop high-fived his partner in the periphery of her sight. It was a show, the Chief Inspector of the Time-Core City Force, afraid of blood.

“Fuck you Seph.” He sneered at her and she grinned at him.

“I can give you a lap dance Cor, but you gotta pay.” He scowled and returned to the doorway and its relative safety. The blood started two feet from the door.

Serapheena stepped closer and surveyed the room over his shoulder. The blood covered everything. The floor, the furniture, the walls, the ceiling, it even dripped from the chandelier in slow sticky drips.

“Has anyone been in there?”

“The bell hop. There was a request, placed last night, to pick up luggage before check out. He opened the door to this.” She slid next to Corwin and pointed down on the floor. “He made it a few steps into the room before noticing.” An outline of a single footprint hung suspended in the blood, Corwin followed her pointing finger and she could feel his shiver through her shoulder.

“Is that a halter top I see under your coat? You dating this close to full moon?” His only answer was a growl deep in his throat, inaudible to anyone but her. Professional to the bone. Except when blood was involved.

He turned from the doorway, forcing Serapheena to step backwards.

“I saw no body parts. Are the bots here?” She nodded. “Send them in, there can’t be much left to find, but there’s got to be remains somewhere.

 

“Something is off Seph.” Corwin had the reports up on the screen in front of him.

“Why don’t I just go back. I could clear this up in a heart beat.” Two months ago it wouldn’t have been a question. Back then they would have a suspect in their sights already.

“No!”

“But Corwin, goddammit, it was one time, out of all of the hundreds of times.” She put her hands on her hips and gave him her cold hard stare she used to warn off lowlifes, that thought the long silver pole she fondled professionally, was an open invitation to stuff more than just one dollar bills into her thong.

He looked up and fixed his eyes on her jaw, and the scar that ran a jagged line from her left ear to just under her chin.

“I am not sending you back. Not for this.”

“Oh for the love of god Corwin. I am not a baby. I can handle myself.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the scar, given to her courtesy of the Circus Man, a serial killer who’d very much resented getting caught back in October. Since then Corwin had been more than reluctant letting her time travel back to scenes of murders.

“Besides, we don’t need your special skills. There’s no murder here.”

“What? There’s a room full of blood and you’re telling me there’s no murder?”

“As I said. There’s something off. How on earth do you get blood evenly spread all over a room, and not leave a single piece of evidence? Not a footstep anywhere, not a flaw in the layer of blood. This blood isn’t from arterial spray.” He flicked through the reports spread out across the screen, pulling up the blood analysis report. “I am sure someone spray painted the room with blood. Which is also why there’s no remains.”

Serapheena pulled up the crime scene photos and studied them. He was right of course. The layer of blood was near perfect, more perfect that the hack job she’d done painting her walls at her apartment.

“Look at this.” He flicked a finger and a page of the report pushed the photos to the side. She read it, but shrugged. What did she know of velocity and spatter? She raised her eyebrow at him.

“The blood is human, but there’s no clear DNA. And…” He paused, “…they estimate that there’s around 10 liters of blood in there.” He looked at her, a smile curling his upper lip. She shrugged again. She was a crack shot, she was a natural with witnesses and she could time travel. Techno-babble was not one of her specialties. “An average human body only hold around 4-5 liters. Either the victim is huge, or someone is messing with us.”

“But why the hell would someone spray paint a room in dripping burgundy?”

“I don’t know. To fuck with us? Remember two weeks ago? The bloody mannequin filled with human bones that turned out to be stolen from the medical department? I think this was done by the same person. Someone with a grudge and a flair for the theatrics. Someone who probably enjoyed humiliating me a little.” So he had noticed the snickering cops behind his back.

His meaning hit Serapheena square in the chest and she rocked back on her heels.

“You think it is Trix?” She chewed her lip. Trixia, her twin sister, who looked just like her.

Trix tbe self-proclaimed goddess of the center stage.

Trix who resented her time-traveling abilities and had spent the better part of a year trying to convince everyone that Serapheena was going crazy.

Trix who’d been dodging her calls since the summer barbecue where Corwin had turned her advances down.

“God, I think you might be right.”

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