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Streets of Midgar	By : crystalwind Category: Final Fantasy VII > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1124 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or its characters, nor do I make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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- 3
Warnings: Sexual Content, Murder, Language

Chapter One

Year 486
The boy cleaned himself meticulously, ignoring how the cheap inn's shower continuously shifted between lukewarm and freezing cold. He was careful in his scrubbing: underneath the fingernails, in between fingers and toes, in the folds of his outer ears. Inside, too, and that had to be followed by bleach down the drain, just in case. No hairs allowed down the drain either; he stared at the floor of the tub intently during the entire ordeal to make sure that none of those slipped by.
After the shower was done, the dingy hotel towel went into his bag; so did a small plastic bag containing the handful of hairs that he'd cleaned up from the shower, from the bedroom. The knife was safely back in its sheath, his distinctive red hair tucked up under a plain black beanie. There was nothing he could do about the scars, but then again, most people in the Slums had scars. Checking his wan reflection in the mirror, the boy nodded to himself and stepped out into the bedroom.
The boy spared only a glance for the body that lay spread-eagled across the bed; a few flushable wet-wipes had taken care of anything left behind on the man's cock, and the boy never allowed himself to come when he did this so cleanup had been relatively simple. It always was. The boy took one final look around the room, reaffirming that he'd done a thorough sweep the first time, and then he walked quietly out the door.

Year 489
"We thought it was just an isolated incident at first, I mean, a murder like that, you figure we'd hear about it if something like that was going on. We started asking some questions though, and turns out this has been going on for three and a half years now. So- "
Veld held up a hand. "You mean to tell me there's been a serial killer running around down there for years and you just now realized it?" The officer shifted uncomfortably and Veld's eyes narrowed. "I hope you were here to request a team assigned to this, because that's what you're about to get. They'll be contacting you shortly for the case details." The dismissal in his tone was clear.
-o-o-o-
The streets were quieter than normal that day. The Slums were always more subdued than above the Plate, but the recent spate of murders had the citizens in Lower Midgar tense. Tseng personally thought they all deserved what they'd gotten. The victims were married, after all - several with children of their own - and it was fairly obvious at this point that the killer was one of the many child-prostitutes that littered the lower city. Littered, in Tseng's mind, because like so many of the city's dirty 'secrets' they were use and then casually thrown away. Last night's trash, not worth a second glance in the light of day. Tseng "threw away" plenty of trash in his job as a Turk, but he never had understood how people could do such cruel things to their own children. Even perpetual abuse would be better than this studied indifference; at least it was some form of attention! What kind of world could possibly be built by people who'd been ignored their entire lives? No wonder the Slums were such a shithole.
Vincent ignored the denizens of Lower Midgar as much as he was able. For one thing, their lack of morals - and common sense - disgusted him. Oh, sure, let's abandon our children so that they have nowhere to turn and nothing of value except their bodies, and then freak the fuck out when they can't handle being ignored anymore and they lash out. What did these people expect, anyway? It was one of history's biggest lessons - the oppressed always rebel eventually. Personally he applauded the filthy little rat, whoever the brat was; the ignorant bastards had it coming. Speaking of filthy rats... his second biggest gripe about the people of Lower Midgar - gods, they smelled.
The two Turks continued towards Sector 4, habitually scanning for threats even as they each ruminated on the decrepit lower society. They were heading for the latest crime scene, the 15th according to the Midgar Police Department's ongoing investigation. Tseng suspected that there were more murders that the MPD wasn't aware of; if it had taken this long just to find out that this was a serial killing then he doubted they'd found all of them yet. Tseng didn't particularly care about any of the victims, and he doubted that Veld did either; now that the murders were in the press, however, ShinRa couldn't afford to let them go and Vincent would have to find answers quickly; he just hoped that the incompetence of the MPD wouldn't hinder their efforts.
-o-o-o-
There weren't any crime scene photographs from the previous murders, but the MPD had at least done a decent job with the current one so the Turks knew what to expect when they entered the hotel room. The inn was typical of the establishments in Lower Midgar: dirty gray walls, threadbare carpets, tired linens. These linens, of course, were soaked in blood and had a dead body lying on them. Tseng noted that the case officer, Jenkins, didn't seem too pleased by the Turks' lack of reaction to the body or its smell. Ignoring him, Tseng stepped to the bedside.
Five wounds. A sweeping slash across the torso, running from the lower right at the hip to the upper left on the chest. Another that crossed the first, starting just under the chest on the right and dragging across the gut to the left. A third dragging cut down the chest on the right. Two puncture wounds, one over the heart and one just above the collarbone, both perfectly positioned to deliver fatal wounds.
"Left-handed," Vincent murmured. Tseng nodded quietly. That narrowed the population down considerably; left-handed people were rare enough in Midgar, and there wouldn't be many young male prostitutes who would fit the bill.
Stepping back, Tseng looked over the rest of the body. Male, in his 30s. A father with a 15-year-old son, according to the case file. 15 was the average age of the male prostitutes in the Slums, a fact that Tseng found morbidly amusing when he noted that the body was still fully erect. Vincent was smirking too, and Tseng almost laughed aloud at the affronted look on Jenkins' face.
"Offended, Officer? Surely you can appreciate the irony, when you take into consideration the age of the man's son." Stepping away from the bed, Tseng shrugged in dismissal. "I don't suppose the witness statements from the previous murders mentioned whether the other bodies were in the same condition?"
Jenkins scowled at him. "Why would that matter? The wound patterns are the same by the sound of it, and the other victims fit the same profile as this one - married men known for soliciting young boys. I'm sure their families are embarrassed enough without giving details like that."
Vincent fixed the officer with a sharp glare. "It matters because it tells us something about the killer. You have a case that's been going on beneath your notice for nearly four years. You have no evidence, no autopsies or forensics except what you're getting from this case. Trust me, Officer, with how little info you're able to give us we need as much information about the killer's MO as we can possibly get."
"You will have your officers return to the witnesses, and you will have them get more details on the condition of the body," Tseng stepped in. "I'm sorry that you somehow have sympathy for the so-called dignity of these low-life scumbags, but this is our investigation now, and we have no sympathy for the incompetence displayed by your department. The President himself is demanding answers on this, and gods help you if I have to tell him that you're holding us up."
Jenkins paled, nodded, and hurried out the door.
"I'll have Cissnei grab one of the junior Turks and start questioning the prostitutes. They'll probably get answers faster than these idiots will." Tseng nodded and Vincent pulled out his PHS to make the call.
-o-o-o-
"What I don't understand is how this kid has managed to convince this guy that it's ok for him to have a knife so close at hand. I mean, it's pretty obvious he killed them in the act, so to speak, so he had to have the knife right there, right?"
Tseng scooped some noodles up with his chopsticks, considering Cissnei's words. "I suppose he could have passed it off as a safety issue or joked it away. Now that this is in the news it may be more difficult for him to convince his victims to allow it."
"Not necessarily," Vincent objected. "It could give him more reason to have a knife at hand, especially with so many of the prostitutes in hiding right now. All the press knows is that there's someone killing johns, possibly one of the boys. There's enough fear about the boys being next though that it would make sense for them to begin protecting themselves."
The four Turks, Veld included, were gathered for a late dinner of Wutaiian take-out at the office. Cissnei's questioning of the prostitutes had confirmed that the other bodies were killed mid-coitous as well; unfortunately none of the people that she'd questioned were left-handed or knew anyone who was. The investigation was at a stand-still for the time being, until someone new came forward with information or until another murder took place. It was a bad position to be in but with the crappy forensics provided by the MPD there was nothing else that they could do.
Tseng sighed. "We'll have to continue canvasing the area to see if we can dig anything new up. If we can get the news outlets to put out a request for info, maybe someone will come forward."
Veld nodded his acceptance of the plan and the four continued to eat in silence, each wondering when the next murder would occur.

A/N:
I'm writing this from my tablet, which doesn't have spell-check, so feel free to point out any errors that you spot!
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Streets of Midgar