A bright yellow strip of tape marked "Police Line- Do Not Cross" runs across a section of the backwoods road. About two to four cars with London Metropolitan Police written on the side and bright flashing blue lights camp about a good fifty meters behind the line, just in case some schmucks decided that the law didn't apply to them. Several lawmen in bright yellow jackets can be seen placing markers around the old abandoned petrol station. Some can be seen emerging from the building wearing masks and latex gloves, large plastic bags in their hands.
"Damn, what a bloody mess, literally." Herschel Helmwood, the Chief Police Inspector of the precinct, lifts his cap and runs a forearm over his brow as he ganders about the scene.
A man in his late-50s, the wide-framed sturdy man with leathery brown skin tone and graying facial hair has seen his fair share of gruesome crime scenes in his thirty-plus years as a lawman, but this was something unusual even by his seasoned standards.
"Chief, I think you need to have a look at this." Helmwood turns to a lean middle-aged policeman with slick dark hair and a small black goatee, gesturing for him to follow. Helmwood lets out a sigh and obliges. The two men stop at the pile of plastic bags that have been excavated from the station.
"Is this all of them, Lieutenant Faisal?" Helmwood slips on a latex glove and stoops down to wipe the condensation away from one of the bags, revealing frozen body parts arranged in grotesque angles.
"Yes sir, five bodies in total. All found in that walk-in freezer."
"Have we identified any of them?"
"Not by name, sir. Lyles's forensics team is still working on that. But we've managed to determine they are all female between the age of 20 to 30. Mostly likely all part of that missing women investigation."
"I see..." Helmwood nods with a furl of his bushy gray eyebrows while inspecting the bags, then glances up at his lieutenant.
"Has Graystone looked through them yet?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Graystone!" Helmwood hollers at a young man with sandy blonde hair who is standing across the field with his back turned. The young policeman turns and briskly jogs over.
"Look through this pile, lad. See if...she's in there."
The young Graystone stands over the plastic bags for a moment with dread.
"Well, go on, son. You wanted to be part of this investigation so you can find her, right?"
"Yes, sir." Graystone grits his teeth and gets down on one knee, wiping the surface of each bag with a gloved hand and studying the contents cautiously. After the last bag, he drops his head and closes his eyes with a deep sigh.
"Well?"
"She's not here, sir." Graystone rises to his feet and reports, a touch of both relief and disappointment in his voice.
"Your younger sister is not among these bodies?"
Just then, another policeman, a tall thin figure with glasses and a medical mask covering his nose and mouth, approaches and greets the group.
"Sir Helmwood, Lieutenant Faisal."
"What have you got for us, Lyles?"
"Come with me, gentlemen." Lyles stoicly turns and gestures for them to follow. Helmwood dismisses Graystone as he and Faisal follow the masked man, who turns back slightly to offer a word of caution. "But I must warn you. This is not for the faint of heart."
"Well, after seeing that, how much worse can it get?" Faisal tilts his head toward the bags of dismembered corpses.
"This is different." Lyles leads them to a large white plastic sheet and lifts it up to reveal what's underneath.
"Oh, fucking hell!"
The two officers simultaneously draw back and gag. Helmwood inches forward, covering his nose and mouth with a hand towel and swatting away the swarm of flies with his other hand.
"What happened to...no, rather, what the hell is it?"
"We believe this is the remains of Bo Mardsen, the owner of that van over there. We've also recovered the corpses of his brothers Zed and Dale Mardsen. All in similar states."
Still holding the towel over his mouth, Helmwood looks back at Faisal.
"Mardsen? Weren't they that trio who were key suspects in the missing women's case two years ago?"
"Yes, but their charges were eventually dropped."
"Why?"
"I don't recall."
Helmwood turns his attention back to his forensics specialist.
"Okay? So what the hell happened to him?"
"As you can see here..." Lyles kneels down and trace a circle around a large gaping hole where the skull had once been. "Whoever-- or whatever, did this to him , also cracked open his cranium and extracted its contents."
He moves his finger to the bits of dried up flesh scattered near the head.
"The spillage and splatter in the immediate proximity suggests that it was done in very crude fashion, without any surgical methods, and possibly... eaten."
"Eaten?"
"As I've mentioned, the other two have also been found in similar states. I can think of no other reason why the contents of their cranium would be removed in such crude fashion."
"Right then, sorry to interject, let me get this straight..." Lieutenant Faisal steps forward with his hands out in front of him. "Somebody killed him, ate his brains, and sent the police department an anonymous tip about where to find his crew and the dismembered bodies of their victims?"
Lyles shrugs without a word.
"So what, I've got a zombie vigilante running around my precinct hunting down serial killers and eating their brains?" Helmwood rubs his bronze-colored face with the palm of his leathery hand and exhales deeply. "Bloody brilliant..."
One month earlier...
A group of rambunctious lads in athletic attire stroll down the vibrant streets just outside East London Career College and waltz into the Cheers! Sports Pub. As they approach the bar counter, they are greeted by a cheery lass with light blonde short hair and pink highlights at the tips and bangs of her hair: 22-year-old barmaid Colette Graystone.
"Welcome to Cheers! Sports Bar and Pub! What can I get ya, mates?"
"Com'on, love. Don't tell me you don't recognize me?" A hulking lad at the head of the group leans confidently on the counter with every muscle in his arms and chest bulging against his tight-fitting rugby shirt, seemingly ready to burst. He flashes the barmaid a wide toothy grin.
"Oh, 'fraid not, love. Care to enlighten me?" Colette retorts playfully.
"You're talkin' to Eddie 'Big Eddy' Biggens. The captain of the regional rugby team. Ya know, I'm a bit of a local celebrity." The self-proclaimed celebrity arrogantly tilts his head slightly upward, revealing a rigid square chin. He pounds himself firmly on the chest. "Me and the lads took home club champion last week! Kinda a big news around here, I would think."
"Oh! Is that right? That's brilliant! Cheers on the win! In accordance to pub rules, all club champs get the first round of brew on the house!"
Colette deftly ducks her head under the bar to grab a few mugs and start running them under a tap for craft beer. But the only prize the rugby champ has his eyes on is the barmaid herself. As the lads chatter away and await their free beer, Eddie's eyes brazenly inspects the goods with Colette's every movement: a pair of succuclent jugs squeezed under a mini white spaghetti tank top, the cleavage jiggling with each downward and upward motion, her nipples pressing against the tight fabric. When she turns her back to fetch another liquor bottle off a low shelf, Eddie is treated to a nice view of her juicy ass squeezed into her athletic shorts. When she reaches up on a high shelf, the tank top hitches up to reveal the slender curvature of her waistline and a tiny, shimmering piercing tucked snugly in her navel, perfectly matching her small nose piercing and the ones lining her ears- two on each. A tattooed sleeve of colorful roses and thorny vines ink the side of her slender left bicep.
"Here ya go, lads, enjoy the free brew!" As Colette finishes pouring the last beer and set it on the counter, Eddie reaches out and seizes her hand.
"Oh, com'on love. This champ is looking for a bit more than just a free brew."
Unnerved by the sudden encroachment, Colette calmly slips her hand away.
"Oh? What do you mean? Would you like a free cocktail as well? I'm afraid that's against pub rules."
"Don't be cheeky, love. You know what the champ wants." Eddie takes a swig of his beer and makes a thrusting motion with his bulging crotch. "Aren't you curious to see what the champ is packing? Big Eddy will take this sexy little beer wench on the wildest ride of her life!"
Unfazed by his aggressive advances, Colette continues working the bar without skipping a beat.
"Hehe, thanks for the offer, but..."
"But what? Com'on, love! Big Eddie needs some action tonight!"
"Well, first of all, if you're chatting up the barmaid at a pub, it's probably not a good start to call her the 'beer wench'." Colette holds up an index finger to his face.
"Oh com'on! I meant that as a joke!
"Second of all..." Colette continues calmly while pouring a Mojito for another patron, holding two fingers up to Eddie's face. "I don't think shagging a customer in the middle of a shift would sit very well with my manager."
"She's got a point, Big." Another rugby player sitting besides Eddie chimes in, much to his chagrin.
"Man, shut up and drink your beer."
"And third of all..." Colette holds up three fingers up to Eddie's face with a impish wink:
"I'm just really not that interested. Sorry for taking the piss outta ya, mate. But honestly, you're just not my type."
"Aw, fuck. What kinda woman doesn't want a piece of this?" Eddie holds up his forearm and strains it in front of the barmaid, then, seemingly frustrated by his lack of success, downs his beer and slams the mug on the table "Com'on, lads. Let's go shoot some pool. Hey! You there! Fuck off and let us play a round!"
Colette giggles to herself softly at having claimed this small victory and goes right back to serving drinks.
Before long, another fellow, perhaps somewhere in his mid-twenties, smartly dressed with a light brown suit jacket and wearing specs resting against the bridge of his nose, enters and settles down at the end of the bar with a book in hand, contemplatively running one hand across his medium blonde comb-over while glancing about at the other patrons.
"Welcome to Cheers! Sports Bar and Pub! What can I get ya mate?"
"A gin and tonic, please."
"Sure thing, love. Comin' right up!" As Colette mixes his drink, she catches him looking not at her, like most male patrons tend to do, but at the book he brought, occassionally glancing up. She recognizes the book as one from her math course.
"Here ya go, my personal fave. Cheers!" As Colette hands him the drink and he thanks her, she leans over while his eyes remain fixed on the open pages. "I'm taking that course, too."
"Pardon?"
"That book you brought, I'm taking the same class with that old bean Professor Horton. Haha, I don't understand a thing he says. But if I don't pass this class I won't be able to continue my hospitality management certification program. I heard Professor Soring teaches it much better."
"Professor Soring, you say? And what kind of instructor is Soring?"
"Hmm...I've never met the man. But I heard from a few people that he's really easy-going, and patiently explains everything." Colette rubs a hand across her chin thoughtfully.
"Well, that's a relief to hear."
"Why? Are you thinking of enrolling in Soring's course?"
"I'm Soring."
"Professor Soring?!" Colette's emerald-green eyes widen with surprise.
"Well, Assistant Professor. I'm conducting research at the college, and was asked to teach a few courses on the side."
"Beg your pardon, but you look so...young."
"I wouldn't consider myself very old." Soring nods in a matter-of-fact fashion, barely able to contain the amusement in his voice as he takes a sip of the gin and tonic.
"You must be no older than 30."
"25, to be exact, Miss..."
"Graystone."
"Cole Graystone? Were you the one who emailed me?" Professor Soring looks to the left and right slightly wide-eye, then turns back to Colette.
"Well, Colette Graystone. Yes, I was the one who sent you that email." Colette sticks out her tongue sheepishly.
"Yes, it all makes sense now. You asked if I would be willing to help you on the course material. And of course you requested to meet here because this is where you work..." Soring strikes his chin contemplatively and looks up at her. "I must say, I've never met students who would ask the instructor to come to their place of work, usually it's the other way around."
"I know, I'm sorry. I need work-study to pay for the classes. I'm planning to open my own business some day and would need the certificate, but I can't if I don't pass this blasted math course. So..."
"Hey, love. Another round of brew for me and the lads!" Eddie Biggens appears from behind, deliberately throwing a stiff shoulder into Soring to nudge him aside, and places a massive arm on the counter, knocking over the unfinished gin and tonic. He glances back and smirks at the staggering young scholar.
"Who's this cream puff chatting up the champ's girl?"
"Adley Soring, Assistant Professor of Mathm..." The mild-mannered Soring extends a hand, but Eddie waves it off and turns back to Colette.
"Hey, love. When's your shift over? Me n' the lads n' a few birds over there are heading back to my place later. Maybe you wanna come along? If I'm not your type then maybe you can find one of 'em to your fancy and let me watch you get it on."
"My, you're quite persistent, aren't ya, champ?"
"Well? Is that a yes, love? Or are you gonna keep playing hard-to-get?"
Colette clicks her tongue.
"Well, first of all. Nobody here is 'the champ's girl'..." She holds a finger up to the tip of his nose. "Second of all, pub rules state you'll have to pay for spilling another customer's drink."
By now Eddie has heard enough.
"Pub rules, pub rules...com'on, love. Don't get your knickers in a twist over that silly rubbish. It's not like you own the damn place. And besides..." He reaches over and snags a handful of Soring's necktie before jerking him aside. "Who wouldn't want to be the champ's girl? Don't tell me you'd perfer a shithouse like this chump."
"Please don't harass other customers."
"So? This your type right here?"
"Maybe I do fancy a mild-tempered gentleman with manners over an unruly narcissist. What's it to you?" Colette shrugs nonchalantly.
"Com'on, who're you fooling? You're dressed to the nines like some slag. You're definitely into some kinky shit! I can tell."
"Even if I was, I wouldn't do it with someone like you in my dreams. Or maybe I'm not that into lads at all..." Colette glances past Eddie's shoulder and beams with a twinkle in her emerald-colored eyes. "In fact, that's more my cup of tea."
Eddie twists around to see who the barmaid has her eyes on. What he sees is a young woman with raven-black hair pinned into a high short ponytail stepping through the pub entrance, dressed in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and a leather belt studded with silvery metal loops. A black fishnet armsleeve runs from the black-manicured fingers of her left hand up to her elbow, where it ends and a sleeve of flame-colored tattoos begin, disappearing under her tee and reappearing in the form of a fire-breathing dragon skull just below her left clavicle. Dangling from her neck on a thin black leather choker is a small silver bell.
With a guitar bag slung over her shoulder, she stomps over in her heavy leather biker boots and perches herself right across from Colette, completely ignoring Eddie's presence.
"Hiya, roomie! How went the rehearsal today?"
"Not bad, Cole. But I'm absolutely knackered!" Kazelle sighs while wearing a smile.
"Aww, poor thing. How about a pop, then? It's my round!" Colette coos playfully and cranks open a cola for her wearied companion.
"Aww, you're the best."
"Heehee, I know."
"So how's business tonight?" Kazelle sips from the canned beverage, still not acknowledging the man just centimeters away, who by now is tired of being ignored.
"Hey, so...you gals are roommates, eh?" Eddie squeezes in next to Kazelle.
"Um...yes, that's right. Who're you?"
"I'm the local rugby club champ, love!" Eddie extends one arm across the bar and flexes his bicep in her face. "You can call me 'Big Eddy'. These babies here speak for themselves!"
Kazelle doesn't respond, instead shifting her gaze back toward her roommate.
"Are all your patrons this...obnoxious?"
Colette manages to stifle her snicker and leans forward with a whisper: "Now you know what I have to deal with on a nightly basis. He even spilled a drink and wouldn't pay for it."
"Hey! Hey! What's all this talk about spilled drinks? You know the champ's good for it!" Two members of the rugby club make their way over and chime in. "Yea, come play a round of pool with us and we'll deal with that mess later."
Eddie stands up next to Kazelle and slowly rubs his bulging crotch against her.
"And after that we can head back to my place and get in my hot tub. What do you say, love?
Kazelle pushes against him with a repulsed look on her face and gets up from her seat.
"No thanks, but I tell you what..." She flicks open a concealed pocket knife and plants it squarely against Eddie's massive bulge, her ocean blue eyes narrowing fiercely. "Touch me with that one more time and I'll make sure you never get to use it again."
"Whoa! Whoa! There's no need to get hostile, love." Eddie slowly backs away with the knife still pressed against his manhood. His accomplices looking on also begin to back away nervously.
"If you call me 'love' one more time..."
"Miss..."
"That's better."
By now several other pub patrons have turned their attention to the growing commotion. Eddie and his lads can feel more and more glares shifted on them. They have been strutting about since the moment they arrived, talking down on the men and catcalling the women. By now their celebrity welcome has long worn off. Kazelle holds up the knife and gestures toward the door with the tip.
"Now piss off."
As the rugby lads sheepishly make their way out under the watchful glares of patrons, Adley Soring cautiously sidesteps around Kazelle with the intention to follow suit.
"You're not with them, right?"
"Oh! Me? Umm....no."
"Then you stay. I believe my roommate still has some business with you."
Feeling like a hostage, the young professor obediently plops himself back down onto the barstool. He lifts his eyes and sees Colette leaning across the bar with the workbook opened in front of her. She smiles sweetly at him with a twinkle in her squinted emerald eyes.
"My shift ends in ten minutes. Meanwhile, here's another gin and tonic. My round."
