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despicablebisexual · 8 months ago

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Depravity, part I (18+)

Hol Horse x f!reader, modern! AU, detective noir, no stands

masterlist

Hol Horse is drawn back to a city he tried so hard to let go of. You face the man you hate the most.

content warnings: murder, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, cursing

[Universe #139] Location: [REDACTED] Year: 20XX

Hol Horse stepped out of his car and onto the rain soaked pavement. His hand lingering on the top of the door as he looked up at the dark sky to find the small relief that it had stopped raining. The gloomy city he begrudgingly called home had finally been freed from the torrential downpour that lasted for the past few hours, but with the clearing of the sky came the full force of the sinister underbelly once again active.

“Hey, Horse! Over here,” a voice called. Looking away from the sky, Hol Horse cursed to himself as he saw Mista waving him over, and his hand itched to grab at the cigarette pack in the inner pocket of his coat. He was trying to quit, but each day was a new test of his personal conviction.

Regardless of his dislike for the detective he routinely worked with, he made his way over. His mood was further soured as Hol Horse caught sight of Mista’s partner, one he also had an intolerance for; Leone Abbacchio.

There’s nothing wrong per se with either of his coworkers, but Hol Horse strongly preferred when he’s assigned cases where the two Italian dickheads, as he likes to call them, aren’t joining him. Mista is too energetic and jumps the gun quite literally whenever they work together, and Abbacchio walks around with what Hol is convinced is probably the world’s biggest stick up his ass. They’re unnervingly smart and work well together, but something about them just rubs Hol the wrong way. He also doesn’t appreciate how Mista insists on calling him by his surname, thinking it’s entirely too funny that it matches his “cowboy aesthetic” as Mista determined.

“Hey,” Hol Horse said gruffly, making his way toward the pair, ducking under caution tape. “What do we got?”

“Twenty-one year old female. Dead for barely an hour. No ID or personal effects on her either,” Abbacchio replied with a cold voice, hardened by years on the job.

Hol Horse peered around the crime scene investigators as they inspected the body of the woman and surrounding area. Behind him, Mista, and Abbacchio, a group of civilians had gathered to watch, morbidly intrigued by the commotion.

Hol Horse sighed in frustration. These dump and dash murders were getting out of hand and although the city claimed to have been “cracking down” on 24 hour surveillance and police presence, the crime rate seemed to only be getting worse. Too many years on the job had taken any faith Hol Horse had in the criminal justice system and warped his days into never ending spirals of frustration.

“The sick fuck cut off her right hand,” Mista said, angered by the unknown perpetrator’s disgusting actions.

His comment caught Hol Horse off guard, whose breath caught when he heard him.

“Her right hand?”

“Took it with him, most likely,” Mista nodded, face visibly displeased. “Shot her in the knee too, but we might have caught him on video.”

Hol Horse breathed a very, very small sigh of relief. There’s no way it was him again. That case was over two years ago, and was considered cold. He hadn’t been active in two years, plus, he was always careful to cover his tracks. If it was the same guy, he would have never been caught by a camera in an alleyway.

“Who found her?”

Mista nodded his head toward a woman near the ambulance, currently being sat down and evaluated for injuries. “Shopkeeper on the corner. Said she saw someone run off not long before she found the body behind the dumpster. The cameras around her shop are pointed toward the alleyway, and we’re getting an order to seize the footage.”

Some time passed between the three detectives as they silently stared at the bustling crime scene around them. A few foot officers were yelling at the growing crowd to disperse so the investigators could properly find and label any pieces of evidence.

“Where’s J. Geil? You never fly solo,” Abbacchio commented with a judgemental tone, lighting up a cigarette as if they were anywhere except a crime scene.

Hol’s fists clenched in his pockets but he let the comment pass. It was true, he didn’t work alone often.

“Got shot in the arm last week. He hasn’t been cleared to get back out in the field, yet.”

Both Mista and Abbacchio nodded their heads in understanding. Between them, they were happy that J. Geil wasn’t there, despite having to deal with a grumpy Hol Horse. Whenever those two were together, they were an unfortunate mix of showboating and overconfidence, despite working in one of the worst parts of the city.

“I’m interviewing the chick,” Hol Horse said suddenly, not giving the other two a moment to process as he already walked away from them and toward the ambulance. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair tucked into a low bun, was still speaking to the EMTs, a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

“Good evening ma’am,” Hol Horse said with a tired voice, not bothering to look up as he took out his notepad and flipped to a blank page. “What can you tell me–” he looked up and froze. The woman was beautiful, green eyes shining with the reflection of the police lights around them. She seemed lively despite the rather upsetting situation she was in, and Hol Horse couldn’t help but chuckle.

“How did a pretty lady like you get caught up in something like this, Ms..?” he asked, making a show of his southern drawl that he was told added a certain finesse to his Japanese.

She smiled and turned away. “Call me Holly, and I was doing some inventory in my shop after hours since my husband couldn’t get to it this morning.”

He let out an airy chuckle. “That’s a beautiful name you got there Ms. Holly. Listen, I’m sure you already know this, but you shouldn’t stay out late in this part of the city.”

She nodded and tucked some loose hair behind her ear.

“Now, what can you tell me about what you saw?”

She deeply exhaled for a moment before starting. “Well, like I said, I was in the shop doing some inventory. It’s a music shop and we sell a lot of vintage stuff. Vinyl records, 8track, cassettes, all that sorts of stuff, so we always do inventory to make sure nothing’s out of place.”

Hol Horse nodded and wrote a few details down.

“I heard a yelp and a banging outside, followed by a gunshot. I rushed to the door immediately to make sure it was locked, but I saw someone rush by the window.”

“Just one gunshot?”

She nodded her head. “Just one.”

He shook his head but wrote it down. If he had to guess, the shot to the knee wasn’t what killed her, at least not immediately, judging by the streaks of blood on the ground from when she presumably crawled. The woman continued speaking before casually dropping a fact that made Hol Horse snap his head up.

“Wait, you knew her?” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the body.

“I’ve seen her around before.” Holly suddenly got quiet and looked around before leaning in closer toward Hol Horse. “I think she might have been caught up with the wrong crowd.”

Hol Horse huffed. Yeah, no shit.

“And you mean?”

“Well,” Holly wrung her hands as she spoke, “I’ve seen her around here before. I noticed she looked hungry once so I gave her a dinner I packed for my husband one time.”

Hol Horse raised his eyebrow toward her.

“Okay… I gave her dinner several times, and we talked. She told me once her name was Roxanne –I think that was fake, though– and she claimed she was from Hell City.”

A shiver ran through Hol Horse’s body at the mention of Hell City, a place notorious for its nightlife and tech scene. In reality it was named Genesis, but was given the moniker for how hellish the tourists who visited there acted. Once upon a time, he was intimately familiar with that place, but hadn’t stepped foot in that town in over two years.

“Hell City, you’re sure?”

She nodded in confirmation. “Yes.”

He grimaced but wrote down the information, making a mental note to grab a picture of the girl’s face before he drove the hour it took to get there.

“Holly!” “Mom!” two voices suddenly yelled. Hol Horse and Holly both looked up to see two tall Japanese men yelling and pushing their way past the crowds to get to them. The younger one, the taller of the pair, looked especially distressed as he bullied his way through the police barricades.

“You know them?”

“That’s my husband and son.”

---------------

Genesis Hell City. The city that prided itself on its bustling tech industry and sightseeing. What had once started as a coastal city that had pristine beaches, eventually grew to be the home of some of the world’s finest technology developers. As the tech scene rose, so did the portion of the population who chased after it. A long, long time ago, Hol Horse had been a uniformed officer here who prowled the streets while working his mandatory night watch shifts. He’d been placed there after graduating from the academy and spent the better part of four years of his life working these streets.

Life was okay then. For the first two years, he had a partner that was pretty good and did most of the paperwork between them. Hol Horse coasted on his success until said partner was promoted to detective and moved to narcotics across the city. Hol Horse then went on to have a series of partners who he’d long forgotten their names. He enjoyed the lifestyle of Hell City as much as a police officer could, entertaining the men and women he met around there during his free time before being promoted to detective himself.

You see, up until that point, Hol Horse would characterize himself as someone who got by in life by knowing who to hang around. If you find the right person, you’ll get carried to success with little struggle, that was his life motto. If there was one thing Hol Horse was good at, it was finding that person. There was his first partner; a girlfriend he lived with for about six months who had a lot of inheritance to spend; a young man who recently moved to the city and looking for a ‘guide,’ you get the jist. Wherever there was someone in need of a right-hand man, perhaps even a devil on their shoulder, Hol Horse was there.

Although he had a great setup going, the demands of his job and the city had sucked the life out of him until one case in particular was enough for him to send in a request for a new location. Back once again, driving through the streets of Hell City made Hol Horse’s stomach churn, as they reminded him of a bad time in his life when he cared too much about his job. While the city was only an hour away from where he lived now, he had made a point of never coming here again. Of course, fate would make sure he failed that goal. Why was he here? Because old ghosts needed to be put to rest, despite Hol Horse vehemently spending the last two years running from them.

Being away from here for the past two years, Hol Horse wasn’t entirely familiar with the subtle changes made to the city, but he still managed to find the oh-so familiar bar he was looking for. When he pulled into the parking lot of Stardust Saloon, Hol Horse turned off the engine of his car and sat in silence for a moment. He cursed himself for so eagerly going to talk to Holly Kujo, as Mista and Abbacchio told him he might as well head to Hell City since he was “already ahead of them” in terms of the case. It had been two weeks since they found Roxanne’s body, and the further Hol Horse investigated, the more each sign pointed towards a serial killer Hol Horse had lost track of back during his days in Genesis when he was freshly promoted to detective. The Genesis police department was no help, claiming that even though it pointed to one of their old suspects, the case was in Hol Horse’s hands since it occurred in his city.

All Hol wanted to do was turn the car back on and hightail it out of there, maybe go and stop at one of his flings’ apartment instead of returning to his own. Midler was back in town after going on vacation, she might be up for a little fun.

As much as his plan tempted him, the picture in his coat pocket of Roxanne weighed him down. Deep down, part of Hol Horse did still care about his job and wanted to get the girl some sort of justice, but he didn’t have high hopes. Things like justice don’t happen in either of these cities.

With a sigh, Hol Horse got out of his car and slammed the door shut. Before he went anywhere, however, he reached into his coat for a cigarette and his lighter. He’d gone the past two days without a smoke, he reasoned he could have one now. As he lit up the stick and tucked his lighter away, his boot clad feet dragged him toward the glass door of the bar as he contemplated his last few moments alive, because surely, once he opened that door and walked inside, he’d be as good as dead. Afterall, that’s always what you promised he would be if you ever saw him again.

---------------

“There you go,” you said as you sat the three mugs of beer on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be behind the bar, so just flag me down.”

The group of salarymen thanked you and politely dismissed you. With a heavy sigh, you turned around and walked back to the bar. For a Thursday night, Stardust was surprisingly busy.

Stardust Saloon was your pride and joy. When you were twenty, after moving out of your family’s home when you had a falling out with your mother, you had landed on the doorstep of Daniel J. D’Arby. He’d found you tucked away in the booths of Stardust, half-drunk and half-depressed as you failed to keep a steady job after having lived in Hell City with your little sister for seven months by that time. The city had been swallowing you whole, and you could see why it was nicknamed what it was.

Daniel first approached you with his brother at his side, ready to throw you out and call the police for not paying your tabs, but they halted when they saw the mess of a person you were. Telence, the younger of the two, got Daniel to calm down just enough to listen to your sob story, and when you were finished, he immediately offered to let you pay off your debt by working for them. With no other option, you took their offer and started.

That was over eight years ago. Since then, you've managed to work your way up and get promoted to manager. Daniel and Telence trusted you enough to run the place for them, so much so to the point where they only stopped into the bar about twice a week when they came to collect their cash. Honestly, the whole thing was a win-win situation. Their bar was being run for them and you had enough money to find a decent apartment and not have to hustle for money.

Tonight was a night like any other, complete with you coming out of the office for the evening to help on the floor. Tonight’s staff included several of your good friends and best workers. Behind the bar was Polnareff, an eccentric French guy that was a great barkeep. He could get anyone to buy any drink, and he earned the bar a huge amount of sales. When Polnareff wasn’t working, he was flirting with Avdol, one of the cooks in the back. The two had been dancing around admitting their feelings for each other for several months at this point, which frustrated everyone on staff as Polnareff made it everyone’s problem when he was feeling discouraged about the situation. On the floor with you was Bruno, a kind-hearted man that kept the regulars returning for his great service, and Ermes, your fiery waitress who had a knack for somehow getting the most tips every night. How she did it when all she did was yell at her tables, you’ll never know, but you reasoned it was fine. She always ended up splitting some of them with Weather Report, the resident bouncer of Stardust Saloon, at the end of the night, so you assumed they had some sort of deal going on there. Whatever it was, you turned a blind eye to it.

“Y/n,” Polnareff exaggerated, putting his hands on your shoulders as you returned back to the bar. “Can we close up shop yet? I’m tired,” he cried.

You laughed and shrugged his hands off. “Tired my ass. You were just in the kitchen nearly bouncing off the walls as you talked to Avdol. What happened?” He scoffed. “I was not talking to Avdol! He’s in there training the new kid.”

“Narancia isn’t a kid, he’s nineteen.”

“I’m twenty-five! That’s a kid to me!”

You laughed to yourself and pushed past him and toward the sink to wash your hands. Polnareff got back to wiping off the glassware he had been towel drying previously. As you finished drying your hands, you leaned your back against the bar and looked at him. Behind you both, the door chime rang indicating someone stepped into the busy bar.

“We’re only a couple hours into the shift. Why are you so tired?”

“I didn’t sleep well,” he huffed. “Can’t we close early just this once?”

“Jean, it’s only,” you paused to look at the clock on the wall, “10:30pm. We can’t close.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You would let us close early if–”

Polnareff paused, staring at something in the corner of your eye in surprise.

“If what?”

“Can I help you?” Polnareff suddenly seethed, causing you to turn around in shock at whoever he was speaking to.

Whoever you had been expecting to be on the other side of the bar, was nowhere near close to who actually was. A fury suddenly ignited inside you, causing your brow to pinch as you glared at the man on the other side of the counter. Standing there in all his stupid, cowboy-aesthetic glory, was none other than Hol Horse. A man who had run from your life over two years ago.

His hand reached up to take off his signature hat as he exhaled a puff of smoke, his blonde tresses fell around his face in loose waves. “I was hopin’ I could talk to your boss lady here,” he said, nodding his head toward you.

“Je t’emmerde!” Go fuck yourself! “We should have you thrown out of here,” Polnareff yelled.

“Come on now, Polnareff, no need to get so worked up. I got business with y/n, nothin’ more.”

“We’ve got no business,” you scoffed. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it,” you spit, turning away from him. “Get out of my bar before I have security throw you out. Shouldn’t you be in your new city now with your new life?”

“Y/n–”

“Leave! I’m serious!”

You started to walk away, hoping to make it to the kitchen for escape, but he called your name gruffly and slammed something down on the counter.

“A girl wound up dead in an alleyway two weeks ago and she was missin’ her hand. She was from here.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Memories from three years ago when you first met Hol Horse started washing over you, a familiar ache working its way back into your heart.

“I need to speak with you. Please. I want to help this girl.”

Hol Horse held his breath as he watched your back. There was a tension in your shoulders that he could visibly see, and if wasn’t so sure that you would slap his hand away, he would have reached out to massage the stress away like he used to.

“I thought you gave up that life. I thought you don’t help people anymore,” you said bitterly.

He sighed and took the cigarette from his mouth, putting it out in the ashtray on the counter. “Call it a change of heart.”

He watched your shoulders rise as you took a deep breath in. Turning to Polnareff, you pointed to the floor.

“Make sure Ermes doesn’t burn this place down. We’ll be out back.”

Polnareff was visibly shocked as you so easily gave in to Hol Horse’s request. He had been there two years ago when the two of you had your terrible break up after Hol Horse informed you he put in for a transfer and claimed he “wasn’t the type to do long-distance.” He had rushed to your apartment that night to keep you from killing Hol Horse as you threw various objects from around your shared apartment at him. And he had been there for the following two years of pain as you struggled to get over being so suddenly abandoned.

“Come on, I don’t have all night,” you said to Hol Horse, gesturing for him to come around the bar and follow you through the kitchen. With one final nod of courtesy to Polnareff, Hol Horse gathered the crime scene photos and walked to catch up to you.

---------------

The outside air was cool compared to the heat of the kitchen and you would have found relief in the temperature change, had Hol Horse not been there with you. As soon as the two of you stepped outside, you turned to him and held out your hand.

“What?”

“I know you’ve got cigarettes on you. Gimme one.”

With a sigh, he reached into his coat and pulled out two sticks, one for each of you, before flicking open his lighter. Both of you leaned in together to breathe in so the flame caught hold, and memories of doing so post-intercourse flashed in Hol Horse’s mind.

You exhaled your initial puff before taking one more. Hol Horse swallowed hard as he watched the smoke curl past your lips and into the night air. You were so damn beautiful, especially since it had been two years since he saw you, and he struggled to think as he watched you.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you gonna get on with the pictures?” you asked with a roll of your eyes.

“Oh,” he realized, taking the photos and shuffling them around a bit. He took the one of Roxanne laying on the morgue table, blood and dirt brushed off her face, and gave it to you. You held the picture for several moments as you sucked on the cigarette.

“Never seen her before.”

“A witness who had seen her before explained that she claimed her name was Roxanne and she was from this area. When we found her, her right hand was missing.”

You were quiet as you studied the photo. Hol Horse grimaced as he could feel the tension rising in the air, and he leaned against the wall so he wouldn’t have to directly face you.

“Our working theory is that it’s him again…” Hol Horse whispered.

You remained silent, continuing to flip through the pictures.

“He fucked up this time, y/n. We’ve got a lead. There’s camera footage this time.”

He watched you with bated breath as you studied the photos. The scene was oh-so familiar, almost exactly like that of the one where they found your sister’s body three years ago. Your hands shook violently as you were stuck on one particularly morbid picture; a close up of her severed wrist. Your grip was so tight on the photo that it creased the edges and caused you to drop your cigarette.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” you advised him, shoving the photo back into his chest and stomping out the cigarette on the ground. When you turned to go back through the door, Hol Horse’s hand raised over your head and shut it back in place.

“Hey,” he said, firmly pushing on it so you couldn’t get through.

“Let go, Hol Horse! I’m done with this conversation!”

“Y/n.” He placed his other hand on your back, his touch burning you through your shirt. “I’m going to the station tomorrow and requesting all the files be brought from storage. I’m opening your sister’s case back up.”

“I can’t do this again,” you shook, tears falling from your eyes. “I can’t let you get my hopes up that you’ll find who killed her.”

Hol Horse was unsure of what to do. He’d seen you cry plenty of times, hell, this moment wasn’t that different than when you first met, but now, he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew if he tried to comfort you like he did back then, he’d get a swift slap to the face.

---------------

Three years ago

When a blonde haired man dressed in a dress shirt and suit pants knocked on the door of your apartment, you were utterly confused. Despite being in a loose band t-shirt and biker shorts, you answered the door anyway.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Ms. y/n l/n, ma’am? My name is Hol Horse and I’m with the Genesis Police Department,” he flipped open his wallet to show his badge quickly before stuffing it back in his wallet.

You scoffed. “You don’t need to be so formal, y/n is fine. What’s this all about?” you asked, crossing your arms to lean against the doorframe. There had been a robbery at the gas station a block away from here, but that had already been a week ago.

He nodded and stood a little straighter, pulling off his strange cowboy hat to look at you. “I’m very sorry to inform you Miss, but your sister Diana has passed.”

Your stomach dropped as your eyes widened in shock, not quite sure of what exactly he just said. “W-what?”

“We found your sister’s body on the bank of the river early this morning.”

Everything else he said was muffled by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Diana was dead. Your little sister was dead and you had just seen her the day before.

He might have been a stranger, but he was the only thing you had to support you. So, you fell into his arms as you sobbed. Hol Horse was taken by surprise, but eventually wrapped his arms around your shoulders. This wasn’t his first death notification, nor would it be his last, but something seeing the spirit break in your eyes made his own heart clench.

“I’ll be working as the lead detective on your sister’s case…” You raised your head to look up at him, and saw the dark determination in his eyes.

“I promise you, I’ll bring your sister justice.”

---------------

“Listen, I know I made mistakes back then,” Hol Horse whispered, taking his hand from your back to turn you by the shoulder. “I promised some things I shouldn’t have and I let myself get too close to you. I fucked up, I know.”

Bravely, he let his hand come up to cup your cheek. He was surprised that you didn’t immediately remove it, so he took it as his sign to continue. His thumb swept over your cheekbone to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen.

“My mama raised me to be a church-going boy, and you of all people should know I didn’t turn out to be one of them.” He half-heartedly smiled and looked deep into your eyes. “But I know I got some sins to atone for, and I got some forgiveness to earn. I’d like to do both of those things by finally closing your sister’s case.”

“Holden Horse you’ve got some balls for coming back here,” you whispered to him, tears still flowing. “I’ll be damned if I let you screw me over again.”

Hol Horse prepared himself for you to berate him, so he removed his hand from your face. Just as it lifted off, your hand came up and snatched his wrist, pulling his hand to you.

“You better be right about being able to find this guy.”

#hol horse #hol horse x reader #depravity series

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