Detective Wild sat on an old, but comfortable chair trying to focus on the tall stack of papers on his table. He was trying to muster the energy to drudge through the annoying process of doing the paperwork. His attempt was characteristically unsuccessful.

No work was being done in the department, and no work would be done until the sergeant was in a mood, because the captain was in a mood, because the major was in a mood, because the colonel was in a mood, because the mayor was in a mood, because the people of the city were in a mood.

Until then, and only until then, the detectives busied themselves with small hobbies and an occasional chat with their coworkers. The few empty spots belonged to those who set out on current investigations. This was an easy week, rare, few murders here and there.

The windows barely let lights through, covered in dust and grey, yellowed curtains. This didn't trouble the detectives whatsoever. The lazy office signified a lack of death. The office was peace, the paperwork was a beacon of troubles past and their hobbies a prayer for a lack of work.

This serene environment was suddenly disturbed by a bell, which only meant one thing.

The sergeant in charge had left his room.

Silence befell the department, eyes darted towards the door that was opened. The experienced detectives tried desperately to glean the reason for the sergeant to get his round bottom off his comfortable chair.

Was he in a mood?

Was it a case?

Was someone promoted?

Was someone fired?

Most importantly, is there going to be overtime?

Tension filled the department, the sergeant walked out to the center of the department and looked over his obedient, silent sheep with satisfaction. A sly smile appeared on his face.

It was time to choose the lamb to the slaughter.

His expression didn't escape the gazes of the detectives. It was just a case, and an annoying one at that. The detectives suddenly pretended to be incredibly busy, stacks of papers suddenly moved. Reports were written with incredible diligence. 

Michael quickly opened up one of the cases and hid behind his stack of papers.

Alas, he was a favorite lamb.

"Wild! you sorry shit, you can't hide from me! Where's that old shit"

Michael paused and slowly lifted up his head over the paperwork, with eyes full of sorrow and pain he looked at the sergeant with pitiful eyes.

But the sergeant didn't budge, his eyes showed a wealth of cruelty, no amount of begging would save detective Wild, and the young detective was too inexperienced to pull off the ass-kissing required to avoid this.

Michael sighed and responded.

"He's out for lunch"

Sergeant frowned. Michael's partner, detective Samuel had snickered off without jotting down the sergeant's order, likely got hotdogs too.

"Anyway, find him, you have a case, it has garnered some attention and if it's not handled properly, the shit that will rain down on me will translate to my foot up your sorry ass, handle it quick!"

After dropping the case on Wild's table, he went back to his cave and his favorite chair.

The detectives resumed their lazy existence with a satisfied smile.

Michael slowly stood up, checked his watch for time, fastened his badge onto his belt, grabbed his pistol, grabbed the case and started walking towards the elevator while flipping through the case.

Soon enough, he was sitting in his car signalling to his partner who was leisurely walking back to the department while eating the last bits of his hotdog.

He slowly walked to the car and got in without asking questions, his smile never leaving his face.

While Michael drove the car, Samuel flipped through the case, without paying too much attention.

"Hey kid"

Michael glanced at his partner, quickly darting back to the road.

"How come they are sending us, it's been days since this happened, Arnold and Skip already went through the evidence"

Michael frowned.

"Remember that housewife case, the one related to the colonel? I think we impressed, sergeant said it was important, it has apparently garnered attention"

Samuel exhaled in understanding.

"No good deed goes unpunished"

Soon enough they parked in front of an old building, probably couple hundred years old. The entire building was zoned off with police lines.

"No tennants" grumbled the old detective.

They passed under the police lines, and chatted with the police officers keeping guard. The said officers decided to go for lunch, now that the detectives were on location.

No witnesses, no cameras, no notable clues outside the building. 

Michael and Samuel made a quick walk-around, noting that nothing seemed amiss.

Then they entered the building and headed to the basement. Old wooden stairs creaked under their steps. 

Soon enough they reached the basement. Dried blood was splattered all over the center of the room. With white chalk, a silhouette of a person was marked in the center of the blood stains.

Michael opened up the case file and grabbed the pictures. Flipping through them, he paused on one, frowned and passed it to old Samuel.

A woman lay on the floor, face up, her throat cut with a knife. She was wearing a white dress reaching her knees, in the notes it was mentioned that she wore nothing underneath it.

Samuel frowned.

"It makes no sense"

The dress was too clean, the wound was too clean. There was no pool of blood, just splatters of it. The blood splatters matched the wound on her throat, but she must've been facing the floor.

"They must have cleaned her"

Wild nodded.

"They must have changed her clothes"

Samuel thought for a bit.

"Maybe a bucket or a plastic bag?"

Wild squatted down.

"Does she look like she's out of blood?"

Both detectives looked at eachother. Someone found a way to stop the blood after the initial cut, which they weren't sure was even possible.

"Give me the coroners report"

Samuel flipped through the case file. Quickly glanced through the report and passed it to Samuel.

"No needle marks..."

Wild frowned, stood up as well and after a while, he started listing the facts.

"Her throat was cut while she faced the floor, by the splatter marks we can assume that her face was at around chest height, her body or to be specific, her throat must've been facing the ground.

The cut is deep, reaching her artery, it was likely made with a very sharp knife.

After the initial cut, and the initial splatter, the blood...stopped flowing?

She didn't actually lose all that much blood. 

She was cleaned, redressed, likely somewhere else, but there is no evidence for where. This building and the sorrounding buildings where thoroughly checked and no evidence was found.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

She was then placed here, face up. The room is empty. There are no witnesses. There are no cameras in the area.

Anything of note?"

Detective Wild glanced at his frowning partner. Samuel answered with a question.

"How was the body discovered?"

"The building is for sale. It belongs to the city. There was a check for structural integrity scheduled a month back. By the time the police arrived and pictures were taken, the body hadn't even been close to the  rotting process, the scene was fresh. It can be confirmed that the inspector arrived at the time he mentioned and only spent 5 minutes in the building. But she wasn't bleeding..."

Samuel somehow frowned even more.

"No needle marks, no sign of struggle, no way to determine how they prevented her from bleeding out. There is nothing."

"Identity?"

"Jane Doe so far."

"Anything?"

"There was a card on the staircase, for a bar closeby, it's unclear if it's related"

"Name?"

"Green tits"

"Any follow-up? Trafficking?"

Michael shook his head.

"No, Skip knew the place, it's just a bar, the owner thinks himself a comedian, hence the name. Remember Halloween? The ginger fella who danced naked on the pool table?"

Samuel finally smiled

"Neil's cousin?"

"Yeah, he's the owner. He would've helped if he could, he checked all the cameras with Skip. She didn't show up there for the past two weeks apparently"

"Let me guess, the bar keeps recordings only for two weeks"

"Yeah it's a dead end, they checked with the regulars, no one saw her, she was quite pretty, they would've remembered her. No suspicious individuals came to the bar, mostly regulars"

Samuel went back to a frown.

"Why the attention?"

"I'm guessing the inspector had a long tongue, press likely caught wind of it. After the last serial murders case, everyone is on edge."

Wild stayed quiet for a few minutes. Then he spoke with some confidence.

"The only thing confusing us are the blood splatters matching the wound"

Samuel nodded.

"She could already be dead when the cut was made"

Wild stood up.

"The splatter is simulated, someone knowledgeable about this sort of thing is rare"

Samuel put on a mischievous smile.

"Jumping to conclusions, are we? I thought you were past this"

Wild shifted uncomfortably.

"Think about it. A wild goose chase, intentional, planned, well executed, we lack evidence, there is more to this. I doubt we'll find anything else, the coroner might have more answers if we push him in the right direction"

Wild started walking, Samuel close behind him.

"Well, its not like we have any better leads, so I'll forgive it kid, but don't make a habit of it."

After this they fell silent, thinking on it.

As they were walking out, Michael and Samuel both paused outside the entrance. Wild rummaged through his pockets, got a box out and passed a cigarette to Samuel. They both grabbed lighters out of their pockets and lit up, while cupping the cigarettes away from the wind. As they looked up, both paused.

At the entrance to the building, behind the police lines, a man stood, staring at them.

African-american.

Long dreads.

Normal height.

Blue, dirty jeans.

Black boots...dirty.

Wife-beater, with stains.

Sweaty.

Eyes bulging out.

Terrified.

Surprised.

Wild puffed his cigarette. 

No drug dealer with a shred of self-respect would wear such shoes. His pants are too loose, he's unarmed.

Samuel puffed his cigarette. 

No needle marks, doesn't carry himself like an addict either. No homeless person would walk around dressed like this in this cold.

Both took deep puffs of their cigarettes at the same time.

Suspicious...

Wild smiled.

  - Hey buddy, you need any help?

The man stood frozen in his spot. Samuel showed concern on his face.

 - Everything ok?

Still, the man stood frozen, but his posture changed slightly, his knees bending a little.

Wild put his hands in his pockets, both detectives glanced at eachother.

In the next moment, both smiled at the man. Wild got the car key out of his pocket and threw it at Samuel, both the stranger and Wild started running.

...

The stranger was not that fast, Wild caught up to him in a closeby alley, tackling him, he put the man on the ground and put handcuffs on him, the stranger made no sound, sat up and looked up at the detective with the same terrified look.

Soon enough, Samuel arrived in their car. They sat the stranger in the back of the car without resistance and got in the front seats.

Since it was clear that the man was unable to escape them and he didn't show any particular resistance, they didn't bother locking the car. They were already pushing the rules chasing a random passerby in the street, so it was best to be as nonthreatening as possible.

"Hey kid, we just want to ask some questions, if I take off those handcuffs, will you behave?"

The stranger looked up at Samuel and nodded after a few seconds, turned around and allowed Michael to take off the handcuffs. Rubbing his wrists, he looked back down, seemingly distressed.

Samuel and Michael looked at eachother silently making similar conclusions.

The stranger is looking to be an average citizen, unaccustomed to handcuffs, unaccustomed with interacting with the police and too docile and physically weak to suggest a rough lifestyle. This was in stark contrast with his attire.

"What's your name?"

  - "Sam"

"Oh, me as well. Would you look at that, but i prefer detective Samuel, I feel it reflects my age and status better"

Michael smiled and turned to Sam.

"The old man is a bit of a snob you see, I'm Mike, by the way"

Sam looked at Michael with a glint of fear and then responded quietly.

  - "Am I under arrest?"

Samuel smiled as well.

"Oh no, of course not. For what crime. You are currently being held, due to a reasonable suspicion of being involved in whatever happened in that old building, we hope for your prompt cooperation"

Sam glanced at the detectives. Fear clearly displayed on his face, he started shaking and spoke pleadingly.

"I didn't know, I thought it was insane, I thought we were just messing around. I promise, I didn't know"

At this point Sam had admitted to being involved in this case, the usual choice would be to take him to the precinct for a proper interrogation that could be used in court, but seeing that he was the only lead they had in a curious case, and he was awful talkative at this moment, the detectives silently decided to let him speak in the car.

"Who's We."

...

Sam went on and on about some cult, a sob story for the ages. How they ruined his life, how he didn't know about this sacrifice, how he had no choice.

It didn't matter. With every word the experienced detectives became more and more convinced something was off.

All they cared for was the location and time.

After all, they couldn't walk into this ridiculous trap without knowing where to go.

Paranoia is a dangerous thing, but it saves lives all the time. Perhaps they'd fall for it if Michael hadn't surmised the doctored state of the crime scene, but he did, so the random encounter was, if not expected, at least unsurprising. Even the sceptical Samuel couldn't deny that there must have been merit to Michaels assumption. After all, coincidences such as this were no coincidences at all.

Some questions still remained.

For one, why the manipulation of the crime scene. The best Wild could guess, was that the crime needed some flare, to make it strange and thus scary, to attract attention and give it importance. To perhaps attract the best detectives of the precinct.

The strange nature of the crime would also throw off most detectives, and normally even Samuel and Michael would've immediately moved onto other easier cases. With limited resources and time the detectives focused on easier cases, rather than dedicating an unreasonable amount of time to a wild goose chase. Higher-ups wouldn't have a problem with it either.

This way, at least, the city had forced them to actually explore this case deeper.

It was also curious, for the lack of a better word, why Michael and Samuel were targeted. They had put plenty behind bars, surely, but never unjustly, they did their job. Most criminals held stronger feelings for prosecutors, lawers and judges, rather than some random homicide detectives.

But the strangest part of this was the obscure and complicated manner that their would be assailants had chosen. There are cleaner ways to kill men. The couple detectives hardly took any measures to ensure their security.

Why send this moron, when the potential for them sensing foul play was so great.

How were they so competent and incompetent at the same time.

Cherry on top;

Few blocks down the road, the promise of another victim, if they don't hurry of course.

If you had asked Wild, it was a bit on the nose really. Samuel seemed almost insulted. So they played along.

Michael got out of the car to speak with the returning officers, acting as if he was in a hurry. Quickly he informed them of the situation. Gave out some orders and made sure to point out that the trap could be for the special forces as well, after all, maybe the incompetence was intentional.

Meanwhile Samuel used his best acting skills to send out orders over the comms, using appropriate protocols to signal to the recipients that there was something wrong.

Michael quickly returned with one of the officers while the other communicated with the precinct. Leaving Sam...if that was even his name behind, Michael stepped on it, disappearing from view. There were likely observers watching, so they played their part well.

"You thinking what I'm thinking, kid"

Michael glanced at Samuel for a moment. Someone could be listening, the car could be wired, nothing was off the table considering the lengths these psychopaths had gone through.

"We have to save her chief"

There was no way in seven hells they would approach this location without the special forces checking every nook. So Michael made a few wrong turns, until they got an indirect confirmation that the blackheads were on location starting the sweep.

...

"What in fucks name is going on!"

The seargent walked past the dozens of officers in haste.

"Sir its bad, its really bad"

The seargent was already opening the door. Most would've gagged, but not seargent, his men were dead, the only thing on his mind was finding the bastards who did this.

As he entered he took a good look at every detail and started walking carefully to not disturb the crime scene.

The first disfigured body belonged to officer dwight. He used to be a marine, two kids, been a blackhead for a few months.

Next was Jeniffer, toughest woman he ever met. No kids. Left behind a girlfriend.

Tom, the handsome son of a bitch.

Ed.

Rob.

Georgie.

Lex.

Anya.

Doyle.

"Fuck"

"Fuck"

"Fuck"

"Is that Yul?"

The names did not end.

"Fuck"

Ripped apart.

Torn.

Disfigured.

Some of them seemed to just drop without any scratches on them.

"What the fuck happened."

"What the fuck happened."

"What the fuck happened."

The seargent was livid, as livid as he'd ever been.

"My fucking cunts! Mine! What the fuck happened! What the fuck happened..."

The sergeant trailed off, on the ground laid a revolver.

"Samuel...you old shit"

The seargent moved with haste, looking for the bodies with no success. Walking out he glared at the officers on location.

He hissed out the words.

"Listen here and listen carefully...we have a dozen dead blackheads on location.  Several officers as well. All we can do for them is find who did this."

Rage, concern, sadness painted the faces of the officers.

"However, there is a revolver in that building and a car right over there"

Everyone looked at the car a block away that sergeant was pointing at.

"That car was assigned to detective Wild...Mikey and detective Samuel. The revolver in question belongs to Samuel as well. They called this in, expecting an ambush, meaning whatever happened...the blackheads were ready for it...and they still lost"

The emotions washed away. For an outsider, the detectives would've looked like cold machines, one could even hear their gears turning.

"Now, Mikey and Samuel are not in this building. As far as I'm concerned, they are alive, I don't care if its a leap in judgment"

The officers didn't move a muscle. Not one of them looked like they disagreed.

"We can't save our brothers and sisters in there, but we can save those two knuckleheads. I want all of you on this. Do not miss anything, do not dismiss anything, we are short on time. We have a fool in the precinct who led all this poor souls into this shitstorm. Neil, i want that asshole to talk...you can turn off the cameras, I'll take responsibility."

Neil nodded, while everyone waited.

"Get a move on, NOW!"