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cabinetofquriosities · 2 months ago

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Everybody Wants to Rule the World || Chapter 1

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Violence, Smut for later chapters

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Chapter 1: Westview

Mr. and Mrs. Hart took their nightly walk through their lovely neighborhood in Westview. The smell of an incoming storm was in the air. It was sharp and heavy, carrying a tightness within it. Mrs. Hart happily chatted with her husband of forty years about every menial thing throughout their day, finding contentment in the comfort of their lifestyle.

In the distance, she heart a meow.

She perked up at the sound, wondering if it was a neighborhood pet who escaped. Outdoor cats were banned by the housing association for their risk to the local ecosystem. The only felines allowed needed to be confined to a house.

“Oh, Arthur, we should-,” Mrs. Hart began.

“Absolutely not!” Arthur said, anticipating his animal lover wife’s reaction.

“Honey, don’t be so heartless. If we don’t find that cat, the animal control officers will.”

“What if it has tags?”

“What if it doesn’t? Remember when Mittens was taken? Diane had to jump through hoops to prove she was hers. They were a week away from putting that poor cat down!”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. He knew that if they didn’t at least try and something happened to the cat, his wife would lose respect for him.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said.

Mrs. Hart visibly relaxed, giving a grateful smile to her husband. They set out to look for the animal. She cooed and made kissy noises to lure her out. They did not have to look far. Clear blue eyes glinted with moonlight. The white, long-haired cat sauntered out from a bush.

Mrs. Hart knelt down, baby talking to the cat as her husband noticed something on the pavement. Paw marks. Red paw marks. Mrs. Hart petted the friendly cat’s head before her eyes dropped to its legs. The bottoms were soaked in blood.

“Is she hurt?” she wondered aloud, carefully taking a paw and checking the pad.

“Any scratches?” her husband asked.

“None,” she said, looking up at him with her face draining of color.

“She’s Herbert’s, right?” he asked.

“Yes. Mittens,” she said, looking at the cat’s stained feet.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Arthur, wait! It might not be safe!” She said.

“Someone might be hurt in there. I’ll be okay,” he said, waving her off before thinking better of it, “If I’m not back in five, call the cops.”

Arthur walked up to the green front door, knocking on it before it slowly creaked open. He leaned in a bit to call out with his feet firmly planted in the doorway.

“Herb? We found your cat… you okay?” he listed for a minute, “Herb?! I’m coming in, so no need to ‘stand your ground’, okay?”

He carefully crept in. The house was completely silent and still. Shadows engulfed a leather sectional, mounted fish, and dozens of other items that made it clear the place hadn’t known the touch of a woman for quite some time. He looked around, seeing nothing out of place in the living room. Even though it was early in the evening, every light was switched off. Arthur hoped that he was just out at a friend’s place… and happened to keep his front door ajar. He heard a floorboard creak from the staircase.

“Herb! You here?”

He hurried to the stairwell and was met with nothing. He began climbing up before hearing a few muffled steps in the kitchen. He froze for a moment before walking back down. His heart thudded against his chest at the thought of what he would find. Perhaps his wife had been right.

He hoped against hope that he would find his neighbor of fourteen years puttering around his place, exhausted after a long golf game. After a few slow steps, he opened the kitchen door. The screen door to the outside squealed shut. The crackling of the autumn leaves sounded, only to grow distant as rain began to fall. Whoever had been there was now gone.

Rather than give chase with his bad hip, Arthur returned to the bottom of the stairs. He could just stop now. He could just call the police and have them check, but how would that make him look? The steps could’ve been a branch knocking against the wall. The door could’ve been opened and shut by the strong gusts of wind that were starting to kick up. He refused to be some loopy old man who overreacted to a strange situation.

Taking a deep breath, he ascended the stairs to the second floor. He was about to call out again, but knew it would be redundant given that Herb hadn’t answered before. Instead, he walked to the end of the hallway, passing pictures of Herbert’s late wife, their daughter, and their various pets throughout the years. His life had whittled down to just him and a cat now.

Time seemed to stretch as Herb reached for the doorknob. He finally turned it, revealing the fate of his neighbor. The stains that decorated the wall were angry and long from a violent struggle.

The dim streetlights outside illuminated the horrifying tableau. Frames on the wall were tilted or broken on the floor with smeared crimson streaking across them. A mahogany nightstand had been kicked over, leaving the lamp atop it in pieces. The forest green curtains had been torn down during whatever took place with dark stains where someone had clung to them. The rod they hung on was crooked against the wall after being yanked down.

The curtains unfortunately did not save Arthur from seeing the full extent of what Herb had endured in his final moments. He was sitting up on the floor by the window, his head tilted back and his mouth stretched open. His hazel eyes were bulging out, fixed on the ceiling above as if he were frozen in fear.

His body had been savagely vivisected. His chest and stomach had been cut. The cut was long, traveling down from the bottom of his belly up to his diaphragm. Whoever cut into it was messy. Several slices formed the wound as if the killer either didn’t have the care or the tool to completely open someone up in one go. They had grabbed each side of the cut and pulled it apart, opening his body to show Herb’s inner workings. It looked more like he had been attacked by an animal than a human being.

Arthur stood there dumbly, his brain refusing to process how this man he knew for over a decade was suddenly turned into nothing more than meat. He was jolted out of his stupor by a voice sounding from the front door.

“Arthur?! Are you alright?” his wife called.

“STAY DOWN THERE!” he bellowed.

“Why? What’s ha-“

“Call the police!”

—————————————————————

Agent Harkness downed a black coffee on the way to her next assignment. The bitter taste made her cringe, the grounds loose in there from her broken coffee maker. She had been called to a scene an hour and a half away following an urgent request by a small town chief who understood how in over his head he was. The town was one she had never heard of. Westview sat in Connecticut between Wilton and Ridgefield. Since it was a single killing in a single town, she would only be aiding the local police, so she figured it would be an easier situation than traveling states away. It especially helped that it was less than ninety minutes away from Longmeadow. For someone in her profession, that was a reasonable commute.

The neighborhood surrounded the taped off yard of Herb’s home. The neighbors craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. Despite their supposed care of the dearly departed, they still had that morbid curiosity shared by humanity as a whole.

She stepped past the perimeter and into the yard. While it had been Westfield’s first murder since the seventies, Agatha had to admit that the local cops did well in securing the scene. She walked up to the front door where a man with an aggressive mustache greeted her.

“Agent Harkness? Hello, I’m Chief Jones,” he said.

“Hey, Chief. Nice to meet you. So, we have an intruder homicide here?”

The Chief nodded, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Despite his position, he had a self consciousness about him. Agatha was shorter in stature, but commanded any room she was in with a confident attitude. The two of them looked like a combined contradiction.

“…Could you take me through the scene?” she asked dryly after a few silent moments passed.

“Oh, right, sorry…” he sputtered out, stepping inside and guiding her up the stairs.

Agatha took in every minute detail she saw. Nothing was disturbed. Every frame was perfectly balanced. There were no signs of a struggle, no busted doorframe, no broken windows. The door was ajar, but the lock was in tact. The surgical precision of the break in was all a sharp contrast to the bloody scene in the bedroom. Even with everything Agatha had seen in her line of work, she was still stunned for a beat by the unexpected brutality of the kill. Maybe she hadn’t completely numbed herself to the darkness of the world.

“Geez… look at these cuts…” Agatha said, kneeling down.

Chief Jones winced and looked away, unable to keep his eyes on the carnage. Agatha, however, pushed through her own discomfort by treating it all like a puzzle. She leaned in, squatting just far enough to preserve any evidence on the body. Her attention was drawn to the jagged edges of the wounds

“This killer hated this man,” she muttered.

“Uh… How’dya figure?” the Chief asked.

“Look here,” she said, forcing him to face Herb.

He gagged before regaining composure. Agatha rolled her eyes. She took a pen out of her pocket and used it to point out the discoloration surrounding the wounds.

“See the swelling here? Only living tissue develops edemas like this. You can also see marks of active bleeding down the entire path of the injuries.”

“So… he was-“

“Alive through the entire thing.”

“Shit…”

“I know. This killer wanted him to suffer.”

They both straightened up, standing and facing each other.

“Did he have any enemies?” she asked.

“Herb? No. He was just a nice guy. Never bothered anyone.”

“Heard that before.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head, “He definitely made at least one enemy. I would say it was a hired killer, maybe a business dispute, but this seems more personal than that. No professional would be this… emotional.”

“Someone who can do things like this can’t have feelings or regular emotions, can he?” the Chief asked.

“Rage is an emotion. A pretty strong one,” Agatha said before leaving to examine the rest of the house.

—————————————————————

Agatha made the long drive home while on the phone with her boss. She felt spent after not only seeing such a horrible scene, but also trying to keep an inexperienced police force calm while handling their first major crime.

“I don’t know how well this case is going to go if it all falls on them,” Agatha said.

“Well, that is why you are there to help. Keep them on track. If there are more victims across state lines, then you can take it off of their hands. In the meantime, be a resource.”

“Lilia, they have no idea what they are facing with this guy. The scene was…”

“Was what? You sound shaken.”

Agatha sighed, biting her thumbnail while resting her elbow on the driver’s window sill.

“It reminds me of Englewood,” she said.

“Oh, dear…”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Agatha began to drift off into her thoughts again until Lilia’s voice cut through.

“How similar is it?”

“The method of killing is different. A knife as opposed to blunt trauma, but something about it…”

“How about the victim?” Lilia asked.

“Elderly male.”

“The other was thirty six.”

“I know, I-“

“Agatha, I know you have your hunches, but I am failing to see a connection.”

“It was a perfect scene apart from the body itself. I mean… nothing disturbed or left behind. No prints, no hair, not even a discernible footprint. Everything was so skillfully done… except the kill itself.”

“Was the victim a mark?”

“I don’t know. It was so much more brutal than a hitperson would bother with.”

“Perhaps he was paid to torture him beforehand?” Lilia posed.

“Not like this. This body was hacked to pieces. He wasn’t tortured in the typical ways done by hired hands. The pursuit and escape were smooth and planned. The unsub left no fingerprints or DNA behind as far as we have found. But, the murder used excessive force and emotional drive. They allowed for a struggle that left blood everywhere. They didn’t try to hide the body or clean the room even though their own tracks were completely covered. It was a chaotic kill, but not an unplanned one.”

“So, disorganized during the kill but an organized killer in every other way?” Lilia said uncertainly, “And you think this could be someone who knew him? If it was, it is unlikely the same person killed someone states away in the same manner.”

“Maybe. I just feel like they must be linked. Maybe he doesn’t know them personally… maybe he hates them for what they are. Like how some killers hate mothers and kill older women, or hate their ex girlfriend and kill someone who looks like her.”

“Similar ages and types of people. These two… a young dentist and an old retiree? I don’t know, hun. It seems like a reach. You need more.”

“I know. I’ll let ya know if I have it,” she sighed.

“Agatha?”

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep.”

Agatha let out a small laugh through her nose before hanging up. She mentally thanked the universe for the sleeping pills waiting for her at home.

Once she pulled into her garage attached to her ranch style house, she turned her car off. She got out, pressing the button to close the garage door and kicked off her boots. She could hear the soft noises of her pet through the door before she walked inside. Agatha smiled at the black and white rabbit waiting for her in an oversized enclosure she had built for it.

“Hello, Señor Scratchy!” Agatha cooed, her voice taking on a tone that only the rabbit would ever hear from her.

The rabbit jumped around happily like a kernel of popcorn at her arrival. She opened his enclosure and picked him up, hugging him close. She carried him as she checked the house. In her line of work with her own personal history, Agatha could never relax before checking every dark corner of her home.

She returned to the living room with him, setting him down on the floor to explore. She wandered into the kitchen while rolling her neck, groaning as it popped. She took the bottle of pills from a cabinet and took one out. She nearly reached for the wine, but could just imagine her friend Wanda scolding her about mixing the two. That woman was the only person apart from Lilia who could be that motherly toward her without getting an earful. Maternal figures had left such a bad taste in her mouth throughout her life.

She opted for water instead of wine and washed the baby blue sleeping pill down. She felt her thoughts beginning to blend together as it started to take effect. She was swaying on her feet by the time she was brushing her teeth. She watched as shadows seemed to shift in the room. One passed by the window and stopped for a minute, the dark outline falling over Agatha. She turned around and it moved away. Occasional hallucinations were a symptom of the medication, she reminded herself. It did little to ease her mind.

She squinted her eyes to see a soft outline of the word “hi” rubbed into the fog on her window, revealed by the frosty temperature drop outside. She shook her head, convinced it was her mind drifting to sleep before she had reached the bed. She clumsily stripped her clothing off, flinging each article in a different direction. She face-planted into her pillow before sinking into her mattress.

The next morning, she was jerked out of a deep sleep by her screeching alarm clock. She groaned, her limbs feeling heavier than usual. The meds had done their job almost too well. She stumbled to the bathroom with her eyes still closed and sat down on the toilet. As she peed, she looked up at the window and remembered the message from the night before.

After flushing, she looked at the pane of glass that was stippled with the morning dew. Instead of “hi” was a spot that looked like it had been wiped off by someone’s sleeve.

She rolled her eyes and smirked, knowing it was likely one of Wanda’s kids who often snuck into her backyard. They would write messages in chalk or the snow to say hello to Agatha when she was away for work. It was very sweet and meant more to her than she cared to admit.

A question of why Billy or Tommy had wiped it away flashed in her mind, but it was shooed away as she tripped over her bunny.

—————————————————————

“Where’d you get a black eye?” Chief Jones asked as she walked into the station.

“Where’d you get that stain on your shirt?” she calmly snapped back.

He looked down at his white shirt, noticing a few drops of brown from his coffee.

“Damn it…” he muttered, dabbing at it with his tie as if that was any better.

“So, were the witnesses interviewed?” she asked, sitting herself in a chair by his desk.

“Yeah. Sharon…”

“Who’s Sharon?”

“Uh, Mrs. Hart. She’s the wife of the man who found Herb,” he said as Agatha nodded and motioned for him to continue, “She told her husband, Arthur, to help her find a loose cat. The cat was Herbert’s. Mr. Hart approached the house. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the house… apart from-“

“The corpse in the bedroom-“

“Uh, right. He found the front door open and went inside.”

“Which is when he found him,” she droned on, making an impatient circling motion with her hand.

“Actually, no.”

“Oh?”

“He heard something first. Someone in the kitchen. He went to see what it was and saw someone fleeing the scene.”

“What details did he give about the killer?” she said, sitting upright with more urgency.

“Uh… he said he didn’t see them. He saw the door close and heard his footsteps.”

“Damn…” she muttered before perking up again, “Wait… he was there and the killer just ran off?”

“Yeah, luckily.”

“Huh… the killer was really only there for Herb…” she wondered.

“I guess so. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” she muttered, “And his daughter?”

“Pepper? Oh, they don’t talk much.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, loss changes families. Y’know?”

“I do…” she said quietly before clearing her throat, “So they’re estranged, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you reached out to her?”

“She’s been notified. She said she doesn’t have interest in any of this.”

“Really?” Agatha asked with an arched brow, “Do we know where she was that night?”

“Yes. She was on the other side of the country vacationing in the Hamptons.”

“Wow… A rich alibi for a rich woman.”

“Yeah, she ended up working at a pretty big ad agency.”

“And she won��t fly back for her dead father? Herb must’ve done something to drive his only child away like that,” she said.

“Like I said, loss changes people.”

“Not like that, it doesn’t. Not so much that you don’t cut your vacation short if they get murdered,” she said, thinking back to when her own mother passed, “No, there is something deeper. Do you think she was abused?”

“By Herb?! No, the guy was a teddy bear. He was always so proud of her. He’d never do anything to her.”

“Thing is, Chief, a lot of people who terrorize their families seem like harmless people.”

“I knew the guy. No drinking issues, no bar fights, no cheating on his wife. I don’t think he ever even got a speeding ticket.”

“And Pepper?”

“What about Pepper?” Jones asked.

“Was she also a rule follower?”

Chief Jones hesitated a bit before saying, “Well, every kid goes through a rebellious phase.”

“And what did hers look like?”

“Just the usual stupid teenage mistakes. Getting drunk, caught with pot, fights with girls at school…”

“She got into fights?”

“Yeah. She would get pretty scrappy in the locker room when she was on the soccer team.”

“A temper issue?”

“Something like that. Girls fighting over a boy. Typical. Tale as old as time,” he said.

Agatha fought every instinct to bristle at that comment.

“Which boy?”

“Tony,” he said with a grimace.

Agatha took note of his reaction, unaware that the man was capable of showing such vitriol for one of his neighbors.

“Tell me about him.”

“Well, if you think Pepper was rebellious, he made her look like a saint. He was a bit of a heartbreaker. He was this little rich brat who would hold these wild parties and…”

“And what? Partying isn’t worse than fist fighting other students.”

“Well… Pepper always had bruises on her when she dated him. Herb hated him. Hell, I hated him. Everyone tried to reach her, but she never pressed charges.”

“Sounds like Tony had a reason for a grudge. When did they break up?” she asked.

“They didn’t. He’s with her in the Hamptons. Married for over twenty five years.”

“Geez. I’ll have someone look into their finances. If there’s anyone who could afford a hired gun, it would be them. I need to talk to them.”

“They aren’t answering any questions.”

“Tell them the FBI wants to speak with them. That usually lights a fire under people’s asses.”

—————————————————————

“Tony STARK?!” Lilia yelled over the phone.

Agatha flinched at the reaction.

“Yes, that Tony,” she said.

“You had better be sure to tread lightly here. This is a powerful and litigious family.”

“I always tread lightly.”

“Agatha, you tread with the weight of an elephant in steel-toed boots. Be. Smart,” Lilia scolded.

“I will be! I just need to look at them. They are the strongest leads we have right now. Like you said, they are rich and powerful, which means they have the resources to get away with murder. They also have anger issues and a grudge against our victim. Now, either Pepper is hiding something about why she wouldn’t speak to her father or her husband isolated her from him on purpose. Either way, we need to explore this.”

“Agreed, as much as I hate to say it. Ugh, there is going to be so much paperwork. I will try to get a warrant for the finances AFTER you speak to them.”

“That could give them the warning they need to move things around!”

“If they are masterminds who plan murders, they have already done that. This will go much better if you get an interview with them.”

“Fine. I will do everything possible.”

“Good. Call them.”

Lilia hung up and Agatha huffed out a breath. She retrieved their numbers and called them all, only to be sent to different answering services. She left messages with each one.

—————————————————————

After going through every detail of what they had, Agatha forced herself to leave for the day. She drove the hour and a half to Longmeadow while listening to a podcast and stopped off at the 24hr gym a few miles from her house. It wasn’t the fanciest gym, but it was the only one that was open after she worked half the night or when she couldn’t sleep.

She took her gym bag out of the trunk and walked inside, a handful cars surrounding her in the parking lot as the streetlights turned on. She changed into yoga pants and a sleeveless tee that hung loosely around her muscular form. She brought her bottle, put in her earbuds, and got onto an elliptical. As she exercised, she scanned the gym to take stock of her surroundings. She had made a habit of memorizing the people around her.

A mother and teenage daughter were on the other ellipticals, seemingly competing with one another in a friendly manner. There was an old woman on the exercise bike. Two high school boys were spotting each other on the bench, pressing weights with terrible form. She was watching them closely when a woman next to her got onto the treadmill.

She seemed younger than Agatha’s fifty three years. This woman was either in her late thirties or early forties. She had dark hair and prominent brown eyes. The irises were nearly black. Her mid length hair was pulled up into a ponytail that bounced as she ran. She definitely worked out. Though slender, Agatha could see abs and lean muscle given the sports bra and shorts she wore.

She looked away the moment she was caught staring, swallowing as she moved a little faster, pressing a button to raise the machine’s resistance.

She heard a muffled voice close to her. She looked around before her eyes fell on the woman next to her. Agatha tapped her earbud to pause it and took it out. She must have looked annoyed since the other woman looked apologetic.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were listening to something,” she said.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Agatha nearly stuttered out, “Uh, did you need the machine?”

“Oh, no,” she said, lightly panting as she jogged on the treadmill, “I’m new here and just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Alison.”

Agatha normally hated socializing with anyone outside of her tight friend group. Her resting bitch face normally warded people off. This woman seemed unaffected, though. That alone interested her.

“Agatha,” she said.

“Both A names. Weird coincidence,” Alison said with a smirk.

“I mean, maybe,” she said.

Agatha needed a plan of escape if this woman started talking about fate or, even worse, astrology. It was bad enough that Lilia used her birth certificate in her file to do her charts. She didn’t need someone else telling her that she was anxious or upset because “Your 8th house is in Saturn” or whatever the fuck.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be more impressive if our names started with X or something,” Alison joked, “Did you just get out of work?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious… also, you’re wearing a watch.”

“Why does a watch give that away?” Agatha asked.

“The only people who wear watches are old or in a job where they can’t always be on their phone. Unless it’s a smart watch, people normally don’t carry them around.”

“Huh… forgot it was on,” she said, undoing the thick, men’s silver watch and slipping it around her water bottle.

“What do you do for work?” Alison asked.

“I’m a law enforcement officer,” she said.

“Oh, so the enemy, then,” Alison said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Sorry?” Agatha asked.

“I work at a nonprofit that works with victims of police violence and I organize protests on the side. A lot of your boys in blue have caused their share of trouble.”

“Ah… yeah, I’m not one to defend dirtbags like that. I’m also not in blue. I’m a federal agent.”

“Ooh,” Alison said, clearly pretending to be impressed, “DEA? ATF? Immigration? What sort of people do you go after?”

Agatha scoffed at the baiting this woman was doing. While she was fully aware at the massive flaws in the system, she also didn’t appreciate being lumped in with all of the corruption due to her job title alone.

“Murderers. I work in homicide,” Agatha said tersely.

“FBI. Okay, I actually am impressed.”

“So glad to have your approval,” Agatha muttered, looking ahead as she kept exercising.

Alison sighed and said, “Hey, I’m sorry. That was really hostile. I’ve been told I can come off a little strong sometimes.”

Agatha slowed down and looked at her for a beat.

“Same,” Agatha said, “And that I’m off putting and too blunt, so I guess we have that in common.”

Instead of being offended like most people would, Alison let out a full body laugh. A small smile settled on Agatha’s face as well.

“I like you, Agatha,” she said.

“Thanks… you’re not terrible either,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

The two exercised quietly, only talking a bit during water breaks. Agatha appreciated how sarcastic and self assured Alison was. She also caught herself sneaking a few peeks at her while she ran. She couldn’t deny a slight attraction.

After an hour and a half later, the two of them made their way to the lockers. Agatha took her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“You’re not showering?” Alison asked, already taking her shoes off.

“No, I live really close by.”

“Oh, well, I hope I see you later!” she said, “Never thought I’d want to spend time with a cop— well, Federal Agent.”

“I never thought I’d want to spend time with a bleeding heart, but here we are,” Agatha retorted.

“Bleeding heart? You make me sound soft,” Alison said with fake offense, dropping her register to a goofy creepy voice, “No, I have a tough, black heart.”

“A bleeding black heart?”

Alison laughed again, winking at her. Agatha knew from the warmth in her cheeks that she was blushing.

“See you around, Black Heart,” Agatha said.

“See you around Officer,” Alison teased before walking deeper into the locker room.

Agatha found herself smiling as she walked back to her car.

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cabinetofquriosities · 2 months ago

Text

Everybody Wants to Rule the World || Chapter 2

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Violence, Smut for later chapters

Leave a review on ao3!

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Listen along:

———————————————————————Agatha traveled back and forth to Westview for a week and a half. She and Chief Jones worked together to create the most accurate timeline possible leading up to the discovery of Herbert Potts’ body. He had been seen earlier that day playing golf up to the twelfth hole. He then had dinner at the club with a few friends who all had solid alibis. After that, he went home alone and was killed between 4-4:50 when he was discovered. It was likely closer to 4:50 given that the killer made their exit while Arthur Hart was in the house.

They questioned his friends, neighbors, and everyone else who knew him in the community. Each person had the same things to say about him. He was kind. He would give you the shirt off his back. He was too heartbroken to date after losing his wife. He adored his daughter and never recovered from losing a child to estrangement. Apart from her and Tony Stark, everyone liked him.

The forensics told them no more than what they ascertained at the scene. He had been alive for the majority of the time he was being cut apart.

No fibers, no prints, no DNA.

After work every night, Agatha would go to the gym. She normally went once or twice a week, but found herself there much more often. She told herself that it was just to blow off steam, but always kept an eye out for the playful brunette with the bleeding heart.

She was there nearly every night at ten like clockwork. Agatha would spend time doing her warmups and catching up on audiobooks until the other woman would walk in.

At first, the two made comfortable small talk. However, a rapport was established between the two by the third night. They became workout buddies. Agatha stopped hiding her smile whenever Alison arrived and Alison stopped keeping herself at arm’s length, pulling her into a hug every time she said “hello” or “goodbye.”

Agatha would go stiff, but Alison would wait until she relaxed into the embrace. Affection was always complicated with her. She paradoxically wanted so desperately to enjoy physical displays of affection while also feeling at a loss of how to operate when it would finally happen. It discouraged a lot of exes and friends from trying, but Alison was like Wanda in that she understood that Agatha actually needed it. She just had no idea how to exist comfortably while receiving love of any kind, whether it be romantic or platonic.

One night, Alison didn’t show up for her usual workout. Agatha waited for a while, but finally gave up. She didn’t know Alison long enough to be familiar with her work schedule and decided that Wednesdays were probably her off-days.

She walked out to the parking lot, having exercised regardless of her new friend not being there. Her thighs and calves burned from pushing herself thirty minutes further with cardio, due in no small part to hoping that the other woman would walk in at any moment. She called Wanda from the car as she settled her gym bag on top of a pile of takeout remains.

“Well, hello stranger,” said a wry yet posh voice on the other end.

“Long time no see.”

“Or talk, or anything…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. I’ve just been slammed at work,” Agatha sighed.

“Try again. You’re always busy at work, but I usually hear from you at some point.”

“Well, what do you think this is?”

“I normally hear from you every few days. Is everything alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” said Agatha in a frustrated tone.

“You don’t sound it. What’s going on?”

“It’s a rough case. That’s all it is.”

“You sound out of breath.”

“Oh, I was in the gym.”

“This late? I practically have to lure you in there with promises of post-workout wine. Wait, are you working out because you’re dating again?!”

Agatha groaned as she could hear the smile on Wanda’s lips. She sighed, running her hand through her hair.

“I’m not dating,” she said.

“…but you like someone?”

Agatha always hated how Wanda seemed to get in her head. She always recognized Agatha’s methods of lying by omission. She waited a moment, which turned out to be a moment too long.

“Who is she?” Wanda asked.

“Fine. Her name is Alison,” she said.

“How’d you meet? Please tell me she’s not a witness or something.”

“No, geez. She goes to my gym,” Agatha said.

“Ah, so you’re working out to see her, then,” Wanda said, “When are you asking her out?”

“I don’t even know if she’s into women.”

“And you won’t find out unless you ask.”

“You say that like it’s so easy,” she said.

“It’s easier than whatever you have going on now. Have you even taken one rest day since you met her?”

“…no.”

“So, either you ask her out or you become a gym rat who’s sore every day.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her to hang out.”

“No… you will ask her to go out. On a date. None of that unlabeled nonsense.”

“I will ask her out on a date. Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

—————————————————————

As Agatha was on her way to Westview, she received a call from her boss. She answered as she drove in a flurry of snow down the highway.

“Agatha, are you in Westview yet?”

“I’m halfway there.”

“Well, you are going to need to turn around and drive north.”

“To where?”

—————————————————————

Agatha drove back up to Massachusetts, passing through the Berkshires to the town of Cheshire. The scenery was picturesque with mountains dappled with the first snow of the winter. She saw fields and produce stands fly by her window.

While stopped at an intersection, she saw a decoration left over from Halloween. Just outside of the fence surrounding a farm was a painted wooden cutout of a classic witch stirring a cauldron. Despite how progressive it became, Massachusetts would always decorate itself with caricatures of its gruesome past. The witch looked like a cartoon, green and smiling out at Agatha with a pointed black hat. She rolled her eyes and kept driving.

She looked for the turn to Mount Greylock, slowing down to find signs pointing to one of the summits of the Appalachian Trail. Her eyes fell on a small statue of a wheel of cheese. She squinted to look at the lettering. “CHESHIRE’S MAMMOTH CHEESE, 1235 LBS, Presented to Thomas Jefferson, January 1, 1802.”

“I don’t even wanna know…” she muttered to herself as she took the turn.

She pulled up to the Veteran War Memorial at the top of the mountain. The view was breathtaking. Frosted peaks and valleys stretched across nearly a hundred miles in every direction. She looked at a plaque listing three states that could be seen from the highest point in Massachusetts. Vermont, New York, and New Hampshire.

Agatha was normally an avid hiker and she knew this beautiful spot would be ruined by whatever she was about to witness. She took a moment to appreciate the beauty before moving towards the very thing that would tarnish it.

The veteran memorial looked like a pawn from a chess board. It was a tall, sloped structure built from granite with an orb at the top. Slumped near the bottom arch of the tower was a brutalized corpse. The man was 75. Lonnie Duncan. His form was tall and lanky. His cheeks were sunken in from age and his silver hair was stringy, the ends falling to his shoulders.

His head was tipped forward, causing strands of his hair to fall in front of his face. A dark streak of blood stretched above him. Small trails had rolled down the curve and dried between lines of granite blocks. The effect was a geometric design of interconnected red-rimmed rectangles reaching down below his body.

An older, middle aged woman approached her. Going off of her uniform, Agatha could tell she was in charge. She looked like a sturdy, tough woman. Her thick, strawberry blonde hair was loosely held by an elastic. It puffed out in the back and fell like a squirrel’s tail. Her stature was tall and slightly wide. Agatha could tell she was hiding bulky muscles. Her skin was wind blown, a cranberry hue topping her round cheeks. She uncrossed her arms and extended one out to Agatha.

“Chief Mona Wentworth. Thank you for coming.”

“Agent Agatha Harkness. Hello. I would say good morning, but that would be a little ridiculous here,” Agatha said, testing the waters with the other woman.

Mona didn’t crack a smile. She also didn’t act irritated, but it sent a clear message to Agatha about what sort of woman she was. In truth, it was the type of person she worked best with.

“Yes, well, this is an unusual situation for us. We find bodies off of the trail, but they are typically inexperienced hikers who fell or were victims of fatal accidents. Intentional murders are few and far between.”

“But you have seen them before?”

“Yes. Some were premeditated spousal murders and others were drifters who were either perps or victims. The last was a few years back. It was a couple who was killed and robbed by an unwell individual living in a makeshift camp deep in the woods. We caught him soon after.”

“Could this be something similar?” Agatha asked.

“Not likely. Lonnie is not someone who had enough bad blood to make anyone a clear suspect.”

“All it takes is one.”

“His family members are scattered in different states and he kept to himself beyond a casual conversation,” the Chief said, “No chance for his loved ones to be here at the time of the crime.”

“Alright. What do we know about him?” Agatha asked.

“We know he grew up in New Hampshire. He was an accountant for forty one years following his time serving in Vietnam. Came out here to retire.”

Agatha looked up at his blood staining the memorial.

“One hell of a way to honor a vet.”

Once they had ladders set up, Agatha and Mona ascended for a better look. His button down shirt had been opened to show the killer’s handiwork. Carved into his sunken chest and abdomen was a letter and two numbers. The cuts were relatively fresh, with the excess blood wiped off after death to more clearly show the writing.

Agatha wrote the numbers and letter down in her mind. Her attention was then drawn to the man’s extremities. The cleanliness of his torso was the only self restraint the killer seemed to have. Agatha felt a sense of deja vu at the sight of the jagged slices mutilating every inch of his arms and legs until they were barely recognizable as body parts. She couldn’t find a larger fatal wound. It made her wonder if he had simply been left - or forced - to bleed out from the veins opened up on his wrists or inner thighs. Any one of the countless cuts could have caused a slow death.

“He wasn’t killed here,” Agatha said.

“The blood?” Mona asked with understanding.

“Not enough of it. Just enough for him to he bleeding slightly, but not enough to have him bleed out up here.”

“Could he have been killed in town?” Mona asked.

“No… Too much blood was wet enough to smear and drip down. Not a lot, but enough that his body was still warm when he was lugged up here.”

“The killer must’ve been strong. Carrying dead weight up a ladder like that,” she said.

“You’d be surprised at just how many people know how to handle one correctly. Could the killer have caught him hiking up here?”

“In the middle of the night? No. He had some issues with his leg too. There’s no way he’d be able to hike this high alone and his car isn’t nearby,” Mona said.

His face, much like Herb’s, was a portrait of horror. His mouth hung open and his cloudy eyes stared dead ahead. Frost had crystallized over his hair, eyebrows, and lashes. It looked as if the terror of the man’s final moments were frozen into a mask.

“Huh…”

“What is it?” Mona asked, having a great deal more composure than Westfield’s chief.

“The cuts… gashes… look a lot like some I saw on another victim a couple of weeks ago. And another a few weeks before to that.”

“Wait… so this may be a serial killer’s work?”

“I can’t confirm that. Not yet,” Agatha said as she climbed back down to the ground.

Mona descended and moved over to her, slightly into her personal space. Agatha leaned back just as far out of instinct.

“Do I need to be on alert for a serial killer?” she asked calmly in a low tone.

Agatha could see the concern in Mona’s eyes. She recognized the fear so many felt when they were responsible for a newly traumatized community.

“Look, if it is connected then it won’t happen again in your town. The other two were states apart. I just….” Agatha sighed, “I am going to ask that you keep the idea of a serial killer away from any conversations surrounding this death. Unless we have proof, it will only serve to scare people more than they need to be.”

“Fine. But we cannot keep this murder quiet. Lonnie is a well known person here. I won’t lie about what has happened to him.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just don’t want the rest of the police force wasting time panicking about a larger vendetta while they could be focusing on the crime at hand. You will be the first to know if anything changes,” Agatha assured her.

Mona nodded and walked off. Agatha sighed, a cloud of breath escaping her. She hoped against hope that she was right about the killer not returning.

—————————————————————

Agatha tried to shake the memory of a butchered veteran out of her head as she pulled up to the gym. She needed something to help her leave the day behind before she had a chance to bring it home. Other agents used hobbies, alcohol, or their families to flip that switch. Agatha now used exercise. She found herself escaping more and more often as the job seeped into her mind.

She wasn’t thinking about anything but sweating out the memories as she trained with weights. She felt her arms burning by the time her other reason for her nights at the gym strolled in. She caught her eye as she stood up from the bench, taking a swig of water from her bottle.

“Well, hello there,” Alison said as she walked up to her.

“Hey,” Agatha said back, now feeling even more short of breath than she had been before, “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, I needed a rest day,” she said, “But I’m flattered you noticed.”

Agatha was sure her face was bright red. Of course she needed a rest day. Normal people who weren’t waiting for their gym crush every night took days off.

The two of them ended up running on treadmills next to one another. Every time Agatha looked at her, she would forget how to speak. She did everything possible to keep herself from acting so affected by her. She kept herself staring ahead as they talked.

“…and then we were denied a permit for our rally,” Alison sighed as the soles of her sneakers pounded away at the black rubber of the machine.

“I mean, that is a dangerous part of Springfield. I wouldn’t want to see what would happen to y-to anyone if something went wrong.”

Alison was about to retort when Agatha’s reply fully processed in her head. She smirked before pressing the speed down.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a tough cookie,” she said.

“Find, fine… but let me know if you ever need someone to back you up.”

Alison gasped dramatically, resting her hand over her heart.

“My own personal guard cop?”

“Agent.”

“As sweet as you are for that, I can’t be at a protest about over policing with someone from the FBI. Even if you would make a beautiful Kevin Costner.”

Agatha shut her mouth and nodded. She did wish she could go to one of her protests, but there was no way she was able to with her job. Even with her support of her fellow law enforcement officers, she knew the system was fundamentally broken and nurtured certain types of dangerous people within it. Every industry had corruption in it, but not every job had life or death stakes with protection against any consequences. While she didn’t always agree with every assumption made, she was happy there were activists like Alison out there.

Once they were finished warming down, they made their way to the locker room. Alison bypassed the lockers and tugged her shirt up. A muscled form was revealed underneath, leaving her in her sports bra. She shed her shorts, leaving them on the bench beside Agatha. Not far from them was a cold dunk tank. Alison climbed in, hissing through her teeth as she lowered her body into the ice water.

Agatha took her time opening her locker. She got her own combination wrong twice. She looked shy beneath her gruff exterior. Each time she gazed at Alison, she would be entranced by a new detail. The shifting of her muscles in her shoulders. The beads of sweat at her temples. The small curl of her baby hairs at the back of her neck. The goosebumps erupting across her skin.

Alison looked up at her, causing the other woman to panic a moment and look back into her locker. Alison’s eyes stayed fixed on her. Wanda’s voice stubbornly stuck in her mind.

“Agatha?”

Agatha closed her locker and turned to look at her, steeling herself.

“Do you want to.. do something together…” Agatha stuttered, “Outside of here.”

“Sure,” Alison said with a little smirk, “What did you have in mind?”

“I mean… we could hang o- uh, go out to dinner?”

“Is that your final answer?” Alison said, arching her brow.

“Yeah, sorry…” Agatha said with a forced laugh and shake of her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Alison said with a serious expression.

She stood up in the cold plunge tub, her eyes fixed on Agatha’s. Agatha swallowed, unable to keep herself from looking. Her gaze raked over Alison’s muscular form that shone with the ice water. Droplets forms and ran down the curves and muscle-cut lines of her body. Her bra and underwear clung to her, soaked from the bath.

She stepped out of it, stalking toward Agatha. She stopped once she was toe to toe with her, her smile now softened.

“Ho ahead. Ask for what you want.”

Agatha was flustered for a moment, scrambling to recover any type of composure.

“I want… to take you out on a date,” Agatha said more clearly and confidently than before.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked.

She leaned in further, her front pressed to hers. Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her lips parting as all vestiges of her earlier spike of confidence fell away. Considering her slightly masculine attitude, she was normally the type of woman who took charge while pursuing other women. She held the doors, pulled out the chairs, and made all of the first moves. She wasn’t used to being the one rendered speechless. She wasn’t the type to become flushed or nervous.

Alison reached behind Agatha into her locker, her eyes never leaving hers. She took the other woman’s phone. Still pressed against her, she opened her phone with a 0000 password and put her number in. She stepped back and handed it to her.

“Make sure to change your code. For an FBI agent, your phone was way too easy to unlock,” she said, pulling a towel from her own gym bag, “Text me the details.”

She walked out, heading to the showers. Agatha was left with her phone and a mind that was completely melted.

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