Ahem

People complained that the last post was pointless. Well, I like to prove a point, and guys, this is what pointless really is. But it was fun to write anyway. Cliched it is, but enjoy it anyway. And don't expect an ending anywhere.

The wind swirled about in delicate circles. Just like the two circles on her face. Someone had drawn circles using a black marker pen around her eyes, a thick black pen, to made it look like she wore glasses. Of course, that logic only worked in comic strips, but then, whoever had done this probably didn't have too much contact with the real world anyway. A grim looking detective was leaning over the corpse, his angry breaths falling heavily on her still warm face.

It had probably been a beautiful face once, but instead it was just a mangled mess now, covered in bright red.

A fat sargeant stood behind the officer, clearly too frightened to say anything which would send his superior officer off into one of his trademark rages. The detective was a liability to the force, often doing things that the Commissioner would painstakingly and diplomatically sort out, but while every officer hated having to work with him, they were all glad he was on the same side that they were.

Finally the sargeant said, "The forensic boys have called in sir. The markers match the ones used on the other two victims. It's the same guy"

The detective closed his eyes, remembering the scene from last week. It was another dark alley in the night, and the wind had swirled then too, carrying the scents from a nearby sewer. The call had come in at 9.40 and the team had rushed to the scene. The same scene. A young woman, with her eyes pried out with a blunt instrument, blood all over the face. And circles around her eyes.

He felt the cold rage building up, and he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, and took a long drag, but didn't feel calmer. He still felt sick to his very core, and he wished he could hit someone, he wished he could face the killer right now, and pull out his gun and fire so many bullets into the demented bastard's face that there would be nothing but a mangled lead-filled mass instead of a face in front of him.

After each kill the murderer had phoned the police. The first call was taken to be a hoax of some sort, when a hoarse voice on the other end of the line had just said, "She's dead," and then given an address.A squad car was sent around to the location to check it out, and he'd been called in. That was almost a month back. Two weeks later there had been another call. And another victim. And now a third. And they were no closer, there were no clues to follow up on.

It was always a victim in a dark alley somewhere, a young single woman, with her eyes gouged out. The forensic team felt it was a spoon that was used to gouge the eyes out. This time too there was blood on the back of the head, where he hit them with a hammer perhaps, or some other club, and then he would gouge their eyes out. The second one hadn't died from the hammerblow though. It was the shock, and the loss of blood, which took her life, according to the forensic team. He prayed that this woman had died more quickly, for her sake.

More forensic teams were carrying out their work all around him, completely unmindful of the gruesome sight in front of him, and somewhere profilers were already trying to see the connections between the victims, to try and figure out what the killer would do next. He hoped someone would have answers soon. He was very tired, and very angry, and he knew he had to do something soon. For now though he had to get back to the office, and think.