#quotes i can hear in sarges voice perfectly

[agentcaboose]

Sarge: You know studies show that keeping a ladder inside the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun

Sarge: That's why I own ten guns

Sarge: In case some MANIAC tries to sneak in a ladder!

[halstudandruz]

Research Purposes ~ Part 3

*Gif: Not mine; credit to @thompsonconnors

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader/ Adam Ruzek x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: What happened after Adam catches you and Jay? Part 1 (18+) here /// Part 2 here

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I used some dialogue from S6E10, but the rest of the episode doesn’t pertain

A/N 2: Wouldn’t you all be pissed if I ended up putting the reader with Ruzek 😂

You and Jay were on his couch silently eating pizza and watching Hulu. Not having said very many words to each other in the last two hours.

“I didn’t want him to find out that way.” You eventually broke the silence. Jay reached for the remote pausing the show to turn and face you as you sat up away from where you were cuddled into his side. “I mean I wasn’t ecstatic about him sleeping with Hailey, but if he would’ve just told me and been upfront about it I think I could’ve handled it better.” You admitted.

“So you wouldn’t have slept with me in other words?” He joked making you chuckle.

“Oh I still would’ve done that.” You smiled.

“I think he just didn’t want to hurt you. You know Adam. That would have never been his intention.” Jay replied.

“Well no I don’t think he did it on purpose, but I just turned around and did the same thing to him. What if he thinks it was out of spite?” You sighed.

“You don’t have any obligations to each other any more, [Y/N].” Jay shook his head.

“I know it’s hard for you to understand, and it’s hard for me to explain to be honest. You have to remember we were engaged. It wasn’t some fling. Our relationship was serious. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to have a family with him, and when it ended it hurt like hell. I know I don’t have any obligation to him, but in order to see him everyday. Work with him everyday. There has to be a different kind of respect, a different kind of… regard for each other than we have with everyone else or it won’t work.” You tried to explain.

“Then why didn’t you just tell him about us?” Jay finally asked.

“Because I don’t even know what’s going on here.” You laughed, “I mean are we just fucking? Cause if that’s the case we should be doing a lot more of it.” You pointed out, reminding him how more and more nights have ended in just a cuddle session in his bed.

“You know I’m not good with emotions and saying how I feel, [Y/N].” He sighed, “I honestly didn’t expect for this to happen. One night of fun turned into wanting you here every night. Ya know? Regardless of whether it ended in us sleeping together or you just... in my arms.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Jay, if they go up in flames and Hailey comes running to you where does that leave me?” You eventually asked the question that had been pegging you for the last few weeks.

“You know that’s not fair to ask me when I could ask you the same thing.” He replied.

“You don’t think I know that?” You questioned, head falling into your hands, “I don’t know, Jay. Okay? I-I don’t know!”

“What are you saying?” He pushed.

“I’m saying maybe it shouldn’t be this hard.” You shook your head, emotions running through you, tense silence falling between you two again. “I’m really tired.” You admitted, leaning your head against the back of the couch.

“Alright come on let’s go to bed.” He stood up turning the tv off and moving to clean your plates up.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” You asked, biting at your lip and he turned to give you an incredulous look.

“Why would you think I would want that? You know I sleep better with you beside me.” He replied making you smile, body feeling just a little bit lighter.

“Yeah me too.” You agreed, helping him clean a little before going through your bedtime routines comfortably. Sliding naturally into his body once you laid down.

“Goodnight, baby.” Jay whispered into your hair laying a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight.” You said, returning a light kiss onto his chest, nuzzling further into his arms.

“Come on [Y/N] you gotta get up.” Jay tried to wake you with soft kisses across your neck and shoulder. Groaning you didn’t move, “I promise I let you sleep as long as possible.”

“Can we just get my car registered for a spot already?” You whined.

“You’re the one that said that was and I quote “testing our luck and a waste of money.”” He teased.

“I will give my life savings for ten more minutes of sleep.” You replied, sinking further back into Jay’s warm chest.

“No, no, no!” He lectured rolling away from you.

“Ugh, fine.” You grumbled pulling yourself out of his bed turning to see him lying in only his boxers, “Are you trying to provoke me?” You gestured to his body causing him to chuckle.

“If I wanted to provoke you I could do a hell of a lot better than this.” He smirked, “Plus I already got my own shower this morning so no go.” He shooed you away getting up to riffle through his dresser. Rolling your eyes you trudged to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

The ride to the district was filled with a comfortable silence, the tension from the night before gone. He put his truck in park after pulling up behind your car.

“Just so you know I’m gonna stay at my place tonight.” You informed him, reaching for the door handle.

“What? Why?” He practically whined, but a nervous tone seeped in as well.

“Because I see you all day everyday and I would like to binge a carton of ice cream without your judging eyes on me the entire time.” You joked.

“I do not judge you.” He defended.

“Uh huh of course not babe. See you in a few.” You leaned over to give him a quick kiss before climbing out of the truck.

When you got to the district Trudy whistled to you summoning you over. You stood in front of it, hands clasped together on her desk. “Goodmorning.” You stated cautiously.

“Wanna tell me why rebel without a cause looks like someone pissed in his coffee this morning?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“No, I do not.” You replied.

“Well then just a friendly warning to step cautiously today.” She looked back down at her desk nodding her head towards the steps.

“Yeah..thanks Sarge.” You sighed moving to buzz in. You could feel the edginess when you entered the bullpen, but you couldn’t tell who else had noticed it. “Goodmorning.” You mumbled passing everyone on the way to your desk. Luckily everyone was able to work normally despite the obvious agitation in Adam’s demeanor, but per Platt’s advice you stayed out of his way as much as possible.

“Alright so we do it the old-fashioned way. Farm it off. Every beat cop and CTA worker, get every gang and tact unit across the city. If someone knows this guy, that picture’s gonna be enough to spark it. Ruzek, you run it past Mark.” Hank ordered before moving back into his office. Everyone nodded moving towards Jay’s desk to make plans. Adam moved off on his own and out of the corner of your eye you watched Hailey follow behind him. Sighing you looked back to Kevin making mental notes of the plan he was laying out to Jay.

“Alright let’s roll.” Kevin shrugged on his jacket when you heard yelling in the distance. The three of you exchanged confused glances before you easily picked up Adam’s voice.

“It’s Adam and Hailey. They’re downstairs.” You informed the two men, detouring your route to hurrying down the steps, their voices only getting louder as you made your way towards them.

“I’m not gonna talk about policing with you again!” Adam’s distinct voice carried.

“I care about you, I care about you and I-“ Hailey fought back, stopping to turn when she noticed the three of you enter the room.

“We can hear you guys in the stairwell. What the hell are you doing?” Jay asked, looking between the two. Hailey looking guilty and Adam standing at defense, restlessness clear in his frame, from more than just the conversation you were guessing.

“Nothing. It’s fine. Sorry.” Hailey cleared her throat, shaking her head.

“You cannot be having this conversation here. It’s not the time or place.” Jay warned, glancing back up the steps.

“Oh but it’s a perfectly fine place for you to stick your tongue down [Y/N]’s throat?” Adam bit back and you watched Hailey’s eyes go wide flicking between all of you.

“What?” She asked and the look in her eyes at the information pinged a feeling of jealousy deep in your stomach.

“Oh yeah you didn’t know?” Adam took a step towards Jay, anger radiating off of him.

“Watch yourself. Who do you think you're talking to?” Jay straightened his body, jaw clenched.

“I’m not scared of you, Halstead. I’m not some rookie straight out of the academy anymore.” Adam pointed out.

“All of you, cool it.” Kevin whispered harshly stepping between the two men, ”unless you want Voight to find out whatever is going on here I suggest you all get back to what you were supposed to be doing.” He ordered. Adam threw you a cold glare before maneuvering around Kevin and heading up the stairs.

“We’re supposed to be out securing an ID.” Jay grumbled stalking out of the door, Hailey following behind slowly.

“To be a fly on the wall in that car.” Kevin winced looking back to you.

“Yeah.” You laughed dryly. Starting to walk towards the parking lot.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” He tried to reassure you once he slipped into the driver's seat, starting the engine. Kevin knew more of what was going on then anybody else did. You and him had been partners in crime since your first day at the district and even before that in the academy. Your partnership was comfortable and he knew you better than most people. You had each other’s backs always, and even though he was best friends with Adam, who had without a doubt been chirping in his ear about his discovery the night prior, Kevin always remained neutral. So, you knew he would lay it straight for you. He found out about you and Jay the Monday after it had happened. You were pretty good at hiding stuff, but not with him. He could read you like a book.

“This is such a fucking mess.” You huffed watching out the window.

“Well I’m certainly not going to tell you you’re wrong there.” He agreed blatantly, “You should’ve been more careful.”

“You don’t think I know that, Kev? But it’s done now. He knows and I have to find a way to deal with it. I don’t even understand why he’s so mad. He’s doing the same thing with her, and I didn’t act like a jealous teenager when I found out. What he just did was unnecessary.” You sighed heavily knowing that there was more to the story. “I know he’s going through more than just this. I can tell this case is getting to him and he’s struggling and honestly it kills me that I can’t be there for him. It kills me every time I can’t help him through it. I miss him and what we had, but maybe it is for the best. But.. I don’t fucking know! How am I supposed to know?” You slammed a fist against the dashboard and Kevin didn’t even flinch. Adam was impulsive and had a short fuse, but what had happened a few minutes prior was not something Adam would do on a normal day.

“So, what are going to do about it?” Kevin asked looking over at you expectantly, but all that came was silence. You didn’t know. Did Adam still want to be with you? Was that why he was so angry or was it just a lingering reaction? If he was jealous, if this thing between you the two of you was still a possibility then what? Plus Hailey knew now. What if that pushed her in a direction you didn’t want her to go? Maybe it opened her eyes. Maybe she was confessing her feelings to Jay right now in his truck and that scared you. An uncomfortable selfish feeling radiated through your body at the thought. The unknown was starting to terrify you. The possibilities, the factors, all of it was too much and you weren’t sure how it was going to play out.

You had finished the case getting out of the district at a decent time that day. Which you were glad for. The room was starting to feel too small. You needed space to breathe and room to think. Which is exactly what you did. For hours until you came to a conclusion. You loved both of them, but in the end you knew who you wanted, who you needed.

You couldn’t keep dragging them around like this. Dragging yourself around like this. You were going to figure it out and you were going to face it head on. Walking up to his door your heart was racing. You had already made up your mind, but that didn’t mean you weren’t scared to actually face it. Taking a deep breath your knuckles lightly rapped the door. How were you supposed to tell someone you loved you didn’t want to be with them? Shifting on your feet you couldn’t help, but chew on your lip, anxiety only heightening when the door swung open.

“We need to talk.”

All Taglist:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3 @wanniiieeee

Jay Taglist:

@jayxhalsteadx @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @queen-of-arda @sofferderynnp

Taglist for series: @miranda0102 @5sos-imagine @5hundreddaysofsummer @a-f-f-a-n-c-u-l-o

[calliecat93]

RvB17 Episode 9 Review: Succession

You know something that's gotten on my last nerve dear readers? Nostalgia banking. What should be a good feeling about seeing something that you once loved and haven't seen in so long has now become a cheap cash0in for the media. It's now just lazy and downright insufferable with the constant reboots and remakes of nostalgic properties, like every Disney thing ever in the past decade. Why am I bringing this up? Because while it's nowhere near as bad as with other things, this season of RvB is very much counting on nostalgia to help win it over, just look at the Freelancer fan-service in Episode 5. It was fan-service that made sense in context in all fairness... but still fan-service. And that is the ONLY excuse as to why we're doing Felix again.

Alright, let's quit with the bitching and get to the reviewing.

Overview

Tucker has gone back to S11, at the moment where they lose half the team tot he Feds at Crash Site Bravo. The problem causing the paradox? Genkins has possessed Lopez Dos.0 and is making it so that the Reds and Blues win. As such, Tucker has to ensure that they lose and recreate the circumstances that lead to one of the worst days of his life. Damn,t hat's harsh bro. But he does it, even taking one of Genkins' attacks at point blank since Genkins still can't harm a shisno. Tucker takes him down, and as such aside from some minor differences, the overall conditions go as they are meant to. Genkins retreats.

The scene cuts to later, where Felix is talking to Tucker about what happened and it's still when he had his good guy facade. Tucker I going along with it... until he starts hearing voices telling him to kill Felix. The voice? Genkins, who jumped into the AI module in Tucker's armor. He tries to convince Tucker to kill Felix before he can betray them... but Tucker refuses. There's already a plan in place, and not even Genkins reminding him that it's Donut's plan deters him. He recalls how, since Chorus, he's tried to act as a leader should... but in reality, he just acted even more like an egotistical battle. But now he realizes that a leader is someone who steps up and does what needs to be done, something that Donut has so far done moreso than anyone else. Realizing that he's failed, Genkins retreats once more.

Tucker goes back to Iris, the agreed meeting point, where Donut already is. Sarge comes back briefly... where Donut informs him that he caused a Paradox, so Sarge goes away to... probably deal with that. This makes Donut concerned that maybe he didn't explain the plan too well... only for Tucker to tell him that he's doing perfectly fine. Donut's touched, though Tucker tells him to quit acting like an angsty bitch, so we can't get too happy feelsy. With that encouragement, Donut jumps to at some point in S7, where he confronts Genkins in The Meta. It is at this point that Donut points out something. Chrovos doesn't give power, she takes it. There is no guarantee whatsoever that she will hold up her end of the bargain with Genkins. Will Genkins really get the ultimate power that he wants? This seems to affect the Trickster God, as he jumps out.

Meanwhile, Wash and Carolina are talking at a cliffside where Carolina again apologizes for her actions in the last season. Wash is still forgiving, even kind of glad that he got to experience a period without brain damage for a little while. Yes my friends, there is still one more paradox that has to be fixed: the last one. The one that began all of this to begin with: Wash being shot. He knows that, in order to save the universe, it has to happen and he seems to have come to terms with it. Carolina is understandably not happy to hear this. She's downright tearful, but in the end, she understands that it has to be. Wash emphasizes that regardless of everything and no matter what happens, he loves Carolina before jumping. Carolina takes a moment to compose herself before she follows.

Back in Chrovos' domain, Genkins returns and Chrovos... she's not unhappy but she's not pleased either. Why? As it turns out not only are no new cracks forming, but all of the previous ones are now disappearing due to the damage being repaired. Only a small amount remains now, and Chrovos wants to know what's going on. Genkins reports about the Shisno being awake, which seems to... make Chrovos throw in the towel. Genkins has utterly failed and since she can't go and do anything herself, it means that soon the paradox will be undone, the Gods will have Genkins pay the price for his betrayal, and the only pleasure that Chrovos will get is it hopefully happening in front of her as she remains prison bound for all of eternity.

Genkins, however, says that he has a plan. He points out how Chrovos used time to bring back Donut and place him somewhere before. If he can do that tot he Reds and Blues, they'll be out of the way and Genkins can cause as many paradoxes as he wants. But he doesn't have the power to do this alone... so he asks Chrovos to give him a portion of her's. Chrovos is reluctant since she doesn't have much left as it is, but Genkins points out that all she has to do once freed is kill and adsorb the Reds and Blues energy, and she'll be restored. Genkins, likely out of desperation, complies and transfers the majority of her remaining power. This causes her to collapse, her armor even changing from black to white. She tells Genkins to hurry... but the Trickster God reveals his true intentions. He's going to go back, put the Reds and Blues out of the way, and weaken the prison... so that he can kill Chrovos and take over with the power that she gave him. Chrovos can only take in her error as Genkins goes back tot he Everwhen.

We cut to Season 15/S16's finale where Wash takes in his final moments before getting shot. He begins to walk forward, the others possessing their Season 16 selves, as Wash tosses aside his own gun and holds his arms out. We hear the sound of a gun go off as the scene cuts to black. But, this is not the end, as when the scene cuts back we see the pullet... frozen. In fact, everyone is frozen. Why? Genkins. He appears and informs the group that he's paused the moment for just a bit as he goes to take care of other matters. The bullet drops to the ground and Genkins bids the Reds and Blues farewell, off now that he has all of the time in the world.

Review

This is definitely better than the previous two episodes. IDK what it was about the last two, but they felt... rather rushed and all over the place. Like they wanted to do some character development stuff, but because they only have so much time they had to condense and squeeze it together and... that really made them a mess compared to the episodes before. But thankfully, this one put us back on track. It was emotional, raised the stakes in a way that I did not see coming, and has one Hell of a monster ending that left me utterly anxious. Compared to 7 and 8, which had good moments but was again very condensed and a Hell of a lot confusing, this one had me hanging on every second.

So... let us return to our nostalgia banking topic. As I said above, it's lazy and a cash-in at this point. Now this being a time travel season, I understand that we'd go back through some nostalgic moments. And again, in all fairness, the fan-service moments with the Freelancers were relevant and actually helped advance the plot without being forced. The Mercs though... while they thankfully didn't overpower the plot, going back to them... honestly had zero relevance in comparison. This is probably just me being salty because I've honestly just gotten sick of the Mercs because of how much they get hyped and such. They... or Fel9ix at least, have completed their roles and I want to move on form them. I want to move on to new stories and plotlines, hence why I want Church and Tex to stay dead too. There's this underlying feeling, to me anyway, that this season is relying on the past to get people into it, not moving forward. Although, last season tried that, and many people hated it, so what do I know?

Speaking of the reception to last year... yeah that is the only reason we have Felix and why we had a focus on Tucker. I feel like this moment was Jason, who wrote the episodes and therefore the Tucker scenes that fans had issues with including the infamous talk with Sister, apologizing for the Tucker 'derailment'. And yes, I put derailment in quotes. I know that some felt like Tucker was OOC in the previous season and to a degree S15. He was egotistical, womanizing, and people felt like it was a regression. There was a LOT of push-back on that, so having Tucker relieve one of his worst moments and have to outright re-create it and realize how much he's messed up as a leader up to now felt nice. It's Tucker not acting in a way that he thinks a leader should, but stepping up and doing what has to be done. It's a nice moment of character development and I really hope that it pleased the Tucker fans.

But... my issue is... I didn't think that Tucker was regressed in the previous seasons. He did step up when he needed to. Maybe not so much in 16, but he absolutely did in 15. He is a womanizing asshole, that part of his character had never been addressed at any point until then and yeah, it was a problem. And it's not like they demonized him, he was supposed to realize how bad he had gotten after Sister's verbal beatdown and when he realized what happened to Wash. Oh, and he has yet to take responsibility for proposing the plan that caused the paradox, to begin with, most of that has been on Carolina which is annoying. Don't get me wrong, it is good to see Tucker realize how he fucked up as a leader and can become better and this was a good moment to have him realize it. But it feels unnecessary to me because his character had been fine and we again have to have a nostalgia moment for it. IDK, it just... annoys me. It's a good moment, but I'm mixed about it for the above reasons.

Okay, let's try and talk positively now. Like Wash and Carolina having a moment Yeah, this was going to come sooner or later. We all knew that for this mess to be fixed, Wash was going to have to be shot. He's come to terms with it, knowing that it has to be for the universe's sake. That doesn't make it any less hard though. Carolina broke time to save Wash. Was it ultimately a bad decision? Yes. But it's understandable why she went that route. She made a mistake, one that she is still apologizing for, and wanted to spare Wash of the pain. Not out of guilt, but because she genuinely sees Wash as family and can't stand him being hurt. Jen Brown's absolutely tearful, heartbroken delivery was so perfectly done. You can feel how hurt Carolina is as she has to accept that her efforts were in vain, and outright made things worst. Wash has to be shot. He has to endure cerebral hypoxia. They can't undo the consequences, they have to live with them.

And you know what? Good. Mind you we still have three episodes to go... but I want Wash to keep the brain damage. Look, it sucks that it happened to him... but in the end, it happened. Brain damage is terrible, but you can keep living with it. Wash is still a strong, capable soldier and he still will be even with cerebral hypoxia. He'll only be broken if he allows himself to be. Will he struggle? Of course. Will he need more help now? That goes without saying. Does that make Wash any less of the character that he was? Hell no. Wash has proven multiple times that he can pull through some terrible shit, including having an AI try to kill itself while inside his head. Wash can, and will, get through this. Now again, we have time still so they could find an alternate solution... but I really, really hope that they stick to Wash being brain damaged. I think that there are plenty of people who can be inspired by him and it can take his character, and everyone else really, into some new directions that could be good. We'll see how it goes, but I do hope that they stick to this.

But of course, if it does happen, we're still going to wait a while. Why? Because Genkins is an asshole. Yeah, I... I did NOT see that moment coming. I guess I should have since Genkins is an absolute shit, but... no, I honestly did not see his betrayal of Chrovos coming. The guy really is the God of Tricks, huh? I almost felt bad for Chrovos... almost. Yeah, she still manipulated and hurt a ton of people with her actions so she's still a bitch who kind of had it coming. But Genkins having her power is far worst since he's just outright chaotic. Who knows what the Hell he's going to do now that he can control all of time and can kill Chrovos himself to have all the power to himself. I do kind of like how this was almost framed as a redemption, what with Donut pointing out the uncertainty of Chovos keeping her word. But nope! Genkins is just as evil, and he essentially killed the queen to take her crown. I hate Genkins with a burning passion... but he is a fantastic villain and I fucking love it.

Final Thoughts

We're three episodes away from the end, and I'm still not sure how this is all going to end. While I am certainly mixed on some of the time travel usage and on Tucker's moment, it was overall well handled. And any misgivings I had about it I can forgive for Wash and Carolina's moment and the Genkins betrayal. It was a great episode filled with emotion and surprise, and I am still coming down from it. Will the final few episodes be able to hold up? We shall see in due time... get it? Time reference? Haha... yeah... yeah, I'll just... end the review now. Tootles!

[ecotone99]

[HR] A Wholly Superior Creature - Part II: The Priest

Part II: The Priest

Tom loomed over the warming mug of beer like a sulking vulture. Two chubby wads of bloody toilet paper jut from his swollen nostrils. He spun the mug, having no interest in what was left.

"Cheer up, Thomas," Sergeant Donnell said, slapping the sour photographer on the back. "the station is going to reimburse you for the busted camera."

"My parents bought me that camera as a gift for getting into art school, Sergeant."

I felt a quarter-past half-bad, but I did my best to try and follow the Sergeant's lead. "I know exactly how you feel, Tom."

He looked up at me. His swollen, sullen face tilting, annoyed. "Oh, really?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "When I first came on the job and I was working with Roger, I had this pocket watch that my granddad gave me as a gift for making it through the academy and passing my detective's exam. Real pricey, made out of solid steel. One of those old railroad style watches you see now in those western flicks. Had the shiny silver face plate, the wheel you'd wind at the top to keep it running. The whole deal. Authentic. He even had the inside inscribed with his favorite quote." I framed my hands as if examining a freshly hung portrait. "A man delights when he does what he was built to do."

With absolute authority the Sergeant chimed in. "William Shakespeare."

"Marcus Aurelius."

"Same difference," He said, shrugging it off like an unwelcome pat on the back.

"Anyway. So my first day in homicide, Roger takes me over to an apartment complex where a woman reported a foul smell coming from her neighbor's place. Turns out he'd been shot over some money a few days before and we bust down the door only to find that he's been laying in a pool of his own stink and filth for a few days."

Tom's eyelids started to buckle in boredom. "And?"

"And so I pull out my watch to check the time of our arrival for the report. Roger bumps into me. The watch spills out of my hand and falls slap bang into a pile of ruptured guts and excrement."

The Sergeant chuckled a fat bubble into his beer mug.

Tom's puffy cheeks snapped up like an umbrella in a rainstorm.

"Roger, he just looks at me and says. "Well, you'll never get the smell outta that."

They both started laughing.

I shook my head. "That old bastard never even said sorry."

"Roger never was one to apologize for anything," Sergeant Donnell said, then took a slug of beer.

"Consider this," I said, toasting my beer at Tom. "an olive branch from a man who has suffered the loss of something dear because a fellow officer acted rashly in the course of his duty."

Tom was laughing so hard, tears were rolling down his cheeks. As he wiped them away he asked. "Still have the watch?"

I reached into my jacket and showed it to them.

"And?"

"Doesn't work and Roger was right about the smell."

The both broke open again with laughter.

"Well if it doesn't work," Tom said, swallowing a chuckle. "why do you keep it?"

"It's right twice a day. The inscription reminds me why I do the job; and the smell, well, that keeps me grounded."

The memory reminded me just how much I missed Roger. I told myself I should go by his place, visit him and Mary.

The door of the pub groaned open. The dying light from the falling sun pierced the dark interior. Through the beams we saw a patrolman step inside. In one hand he held a paper sack, in the other was a folio. The line of his mouth was drawn taut and the ghostly color on his face didn't match his olive-tan skin.

I couldn't remember his name, but we'd told him to take Tom's camera over to the one-hour photo development place to see if they could salvage any of the pictures I'd taken.

"Officer Tasker." The Sarge was always good with names.

"Sir," Tasker said. "Here's your camera, Tom."

I knew something was wrong when the patrolman went to hand me folio, a palsied tremor quaked down his wrists to the tips of his fingers.

I flipped open the folio and pulled out a deck of photos. Most of them would turn out to be blurred snapshots of a dark figure, but one set a lump in my throat.

The last one.

What I couldn't see, even though the flash had perfectly illuminated the area around his head, was a single human feature. Where should have been eyes, a nose, and a mouth was a flat slate.

"What is it, Sam?" The Sarge asked as he pulled the photo out of my hand.

I looked up at Tasker, whose face was etched like a graven idol. "Looks like a man without a face."

***

Sergeant Donnell sat at his desk inside a windowed office that gave him the appearance of a dangerous animal in a zoo. I knocked on the glass. He waved me in without looking up from folder on his desk. Wadded gum wrappers littered the open leaf of the folder where his nose was buried.

"Any of the eggheads have anything to say about the writing on Courtney's body?"

The look he gave me wasn't a happy one. "Yes and no."

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, in that they are pretty sure it's a language. No, in that they don't have anything to say about it. None of them know what it is. They've called the university to see if anyone there can place it."

"What's got you sweating, Sarge?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Not sure what you mean, Sam."

"I mean you're going through gum like a chain smoker goes through a carton. You're also going over those close-up shots of Courtney's skin even though you can't read them. I don't have to be a psychic to know when someone's seen a ghost."

A joyless smile crested his mouth. "Shut the door, would ya, Sam?"

I did.

His chair groaned on rusty springs as he leaned his elbows on to his desk. "Take a look at these," he said, handing me the folder.

I realized almost immediately that what I thought were the photos from today's crime scene were actually photos of a different girl with the same inane scrawling slashed into her skin. The label of the folder read 'Diana Mueller'.

"One of the boys in research found that in our unsolved crimes files. Dated about twenty-five years ago."

I scanned the contents. Sprinkled throughout the report was the name of the acting detective Brian Ortega. He and his team hadn't even come close to sniffing a suspect.

"Ortega," I said, searching my memory for a name to go with the face.

"He was the lead detective here before either you or I joined the force."

"You'd think the name would have come up though," I said.

Mike nodded. "Normally, yeah. Seems as though Detective Ortega is a bit of a splotch on the department. See, after about two weeks of working on the case, he decided to take a bite out of a twelve gauge as a final meal.

"Bad way to go," I said.

"They assigned a young detective to pick up where he left off, but he ended up on the same intersection of Jack and Shit that Ortega did."

"Who was he? We can take a look at his reports. Maybe question him," I said before digging back into Ortega's case file.

"I think that'd be a good idea, Sam. I already let him know that you'll be stopping by."

"Thanks, Sarge. What's his name?"

"Roger Dale."

The photos and smudge type of the report suddenly became distant symbols and structures that no longer made any sense. Looking up at the Sarge, I said. "Roger?"

"I'm guessing he never mentioned the case?"

I shook my head and slowly lowered myself into one of the office chairs.

"Makes sense. The department likes to let cases of a seemingly occult and gruesome nature die off in the public mind when they go unsolved. It's likely that Roger's chief told him to keep it to himself when he hit a dead end."

"Why's that?"

"Crimes rooted in religious zealotry catch in the public mind like a thorn in a lion's paw. The thorn sits there too long and folks start to get a fever—a public hysteria sets in."

"I'll talk with Roger on my way home," I said, rubbing the fatigue from my eyes. The images of the ruined skin of both girls flashed in my brain.

"Before you do that," the Sergeant said as he pulled a fresh stick of gum from the pack on his desk. He unwrapped it, then folded it over once before adding it to the unsightly pink wad in his mouth. "I've got someone I want you to talk to. Sort of an expert on these sorts of things."

"One of the university profs?"

Mike shook his head. "Nah, a consultant I worked with a few years ago. Helped me and my old partner bust up a cultist ring just outside Detroit. He's an excommunicated priest. Name's Daniel. I called and left a message with his secretary. She said he's available at his office after eight. Might be that he knows something about the symbols. Talk with him before you bother Roger."

I nodded.

"Sam," he said, a small measure of his warm returned to his voice. "Cases like this take a toll. Do me a favor and keep it in mind that it's the job. I know how you get. Don't make it an obsession."

"I hear you, Sarge."

"Sam," his tone grew taut. "I mean it."

"I hear you, Mike."

The office building was a three story derelict that looked like a little boy squished between two bigger, more professional brothers. I buzzed in and made my way to the second story. Years of rain and heat gave the long hallway a swampy aroma. The dark shoulders of closed doors ran the length of the hall. The overhead lamps had been put to bed and only a single rectangle of light threw itself against the wall at the hall's end.

I knocked on the glass and stuffed my hands in my pockets.

The door opened to reveal a gaunt, pale man whose eyes were a set of mismatched jewels hanging in dark sockets. His brow was lined with years of worry or sorrow often associated with men who saw time on the front lines of a war. He wore the familiar vestments of his trade, they weighed heavily on his bony frame.

"Can I help you?" It was an authoritative quality of sound he wielded, all big vowels and melodious baritone. Smoke curled from the egg-shaped pipe bowl clutched in his hand.

"Father Daniel," I said. "I'm Detective Maxwell. Sergeant Donnell let your answering service know I'd be coming by for a chat."

He nodded. "Come in." The priest stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. "I've just made coffee, Detective. Have some."

"I'm always ready for a cup."

Stepping inside I found myself greeted by the smell of books and ghosts of vanilla tinged soot. Scarlet rugs of an ornate pattern did their best to hide the creaking floorboards. The desk was a simple thing, as were the floral stamped lounge chairs tucked into a corner for consultation.

The lean man lead me through the stacks to a corner of the office where a wide-top drafting desk leaned. A percolator and white china cups rested on a small table behind the desk.

"Tell me how I can help you, Detective."

"Well, padre, to be honest I'm not sure you can, but Mike thinks you might be able to shed some light on these," I said, taking a folder out of the folio.

We swapped. He gave me a steaming cup. I handed him the pictures.

"Fair warning: those aren't family photos," I said, then sipped at my coffee, which was strong enough to chew.

He opened the folder.

Nothing.

Not an eyebrow tilt or an early wrinkle flattened in shock. His expression was as flat and cold as a nickel.

"The girl in the culvert was dis-"

"A moment, please," he said, then sat at the drafting desk, his hunched shoulders gave him the look of a looming vulture. He scooped up a pair of oval-lensed glasses and perched them on his nose. "Your men were unable to decipher the language."

"We don't employ many linguists, but we've given it over to the university for-"

"They cannot help you either."

"You have something against complete sentences?" I regretted the jab as soon as it came out. I hate being interrupted, like most folks, but the way he peered at me made me over the lip of the desk made me feel like a child who'd cut a fart in church.

"Time is a fire, Detective," he said, then went back to scratching his pen into the paper. "I am friends with most of the linguists at the university. They are quite qualified in Greek, Hebrew, Sumerian, and Proto-European languages, but what has been so gruesomely scrawled into these poor women falls outside their academic purview."

The ego that comes with expertise sometimes grinds my gears, but I let his tone slide. "Alright, I'll bite. What language is it?"

"Language is almost a word for it, Detective. It is a kind of conjuring via symbols known only to the narrowest of occult researchers and a wide array of demonic cultists. It is a written system of supernatural command."

"So religious quacks trying to bid for a Faustian bargain."

His mismatched eyes, one green and one ice blue, snapped up at me.

"Despite ignorant popular belief, Detective, the members of cults, be they demonic, pagan, or otherwise, are so many and varied that trying to categorize them all would be like trying to give every rat in New York a name."

I furrowed my disbelief at him.

"There are," he said. "hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of occult practitioners living in our country. They can be broadly identified by the kind of ritualistic symbolism they use; the group which uses this particular set of symbols is very old—patient, calculating, and most importantly, predatory."

I was getting tired of the lecture. "None of this helps me, Father. I don't need a history lesson. I need some direction."

He sighed, then ripped the sheet from his pad. He brought it over and handed it to me. He walked back over to the percolator and began to pour himself a cup of coffee.

I looked down at the sheet. He recited the text as I began to read.

"They arrived at the place Molech described to him. Cain built an altar there and set the stone table as it had been apportioned to him. He tied up his daughter Rachale and laid her on the altar, naked on the stone. Then Cain stretched out his hand and took the copper knife to kill his daughter as a sacrifice. Molech then appeared before his servant and said. "Apportion your child. Do not hold back your wrath; for with it, I will make your name great among all the nations."

Something cold curled up in my stomach.

"You are familiar with the story of Issac and Abraham."

I shook my head and set the paper in my lap. "Never really cared for Sunday School fairy tales."

"In the Torah, Yahweh," the priest said, while making a strange sign with his right hand. "commands Abraham to take his only son Isaac to the hill of Moriah and sacrifice him. However, God stops Abraham before he can commit the deed. Many scholars believe that this story was included in the Old Testament as a way of showing the Hebrews that their God was not like the Canaanite deity Molech—for Molech delighted in human sacrifice."

"I'm guessing what's written here is Molech's version of the story?"

"Indeed. Cain--cast out of paradise for killing his brother Abel, was exiled from paradise, given over to the rest of the unclean world. It was there that he was chosen by Molech to build a world quite different than the one promised to Abraham and his people."

"I'm no Christian, but I'm pretty sure that isn't in the Bible."

"Not in any bible you've ever read, Detective. What is even more ghastly is that after Cain has slaughtered his child like an animal, Molech has him remove his daughter's face, telling Cain that this is done because no human visage is worthy of setting its face against Molech's sight."

Father Daniel sat back down at his desk, his countenance dimmed further. As if a pile of worry had been set on his shoulders. "There are still people who follow this horrid belief system. They call themselves the Faceless Children."

"They use flat masks to hide their features, I'm guessing."

He looked up again, a measure of surprise dawned on his face. "Yes. How do you--"

"Saw one of them this morning inside that culvert." It felt good to cut him off for a change. "He was watching us examine the body. Likely admiring what he'd done. Psychos do that."

"It's dismissive to call him psychopathic, Detective," he said.

"Look at those pictures, Father. Her name is Courtney Marie Davidson. Is, not was. She has a name, she had a father and a mother who loved her just as much as you or I will ever love anything." I'd worked myself into a lather. "Any human being who would do that to someone else gets relegated to the status of a psychopath in my book" I stabbed a finger at the photos in his hand. "And with all due respect, Father--When it comes to understanding the criminal mind, my book is a lot thicker than yours!"

The priest was still, his face placid. "Forgive me if you thought I was calling into question your authority, Detective. That was not my intention. What I was trying to explain is that the mind of the religious zealot doesn't always intertwine with criminal intent. You see, these people, the ones who desecrated the body of Ms. Davidson, they do not carry with them any kind of remorse or criminal regret that we can associate with normal people. They live in a world where Molech's law holds primacy over Man's. They believe that they are wholly superior creatures who serve a wholly superior deity." His head craned forward where it swayed slowly from side to side. "So no, Detective, they are not 'psychos', they are quite mentally able and deeply convicted in the rightness of their action."

We eyed each other for a moment. A line of quiet drawn taut between us. Neither of us quite sure how to measure the other.

The beleaguered priest sighed as he stood up. "I have a consultation in Chicago in two days, Detective." He reached for his hat and coat off the rack next to the small coffee table.

I wrinkled my brow at him, confused. "Which you have to leave for all of a sudden?"

"No, of course not," he said. He wrapped his hand around the handle of black leather bag. When he lifted it I could hear the sound of clinking glass and metal inside. "It means that I'm accepting your offer to consult on the case."

"Wait a min-"

"I have one flat fee that I charge, but in this case, I'll be remitting it entirely. Your fervor for justice on behalf of Ms. Davidson showed me something I don't see much anymore."

"But I didn't ask you to consult-"

He slipped his hat on, then slapped a hand on my shoulder. "You have conviction, Samuel. Conviction is the lifeblood of good works." His voice was warmer now, and it felt like something more than a priest's bedside manner. "Let me help you with this good work."

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