Chapter Text
“Petty with a prior”
There were very few phrases Morgan hated more than that. In her line of work, saying her client was a petty criminal with a prior criminal record was like saying she had to spread butter with a steak knife; it’s just damage control at that point. And in this day and age, with everything more connected than it’s ever been, even damage control was getting harder and harder to do. It’s all but impossible to argue that your guy feels remorse and won’t do it again so he should get some lenience if the entire courtroom can watch in ultra-HD as he pulls a gun and mugs someone. It’s always a gamble taking public defender work, I guess, Morgan thought in an attempt to reassure herself. It’s a bit easier to tolerate such horrible luck and awful odds in a casino rather than in real life. Because, after all, even if you draw nothing but garbage all night, you can still walk away from the poker table with a few wins if you play it right. I’ll be licking my wounds after this prelim trial no matter what, here’s to hoping I just get some scratches instead of losing a full limb…
Her client tapped her shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “tell me straight, how bad is this going to be for me? I can’t handle a fine right now, and if I go away for too long…” Don’t touch me you fucking-
Morgan sighed. “Just stick to the plan. Don’t say a word and I’ll get you a year in prison with eligibility for parole. That’s about the best I can do given your prior record.” As the start time for the hearing drew closer, Morgan took a sip of water from the bottle Serra had brought her, and nearly choked as she glanced across the courtroom and saw none other than Emma Rockford sitting in the prosecution’s seat. The hell is she doing here?! This is WAY below her level. The two made eye contact across the room and Emma’s eyes sent a clear message; “we’ll talk after.”
Before Morgan could question the situation any further, the Adjutant in the center of the room powered on and began the hearing in earnest. “Adjutant number 3717 presiding over the People v Stevens, hearing a charge of armed robbery.” Reserved, robotic, finally a normal adjutant rather than that complete nutjob from the Ashur case… “Do the People have any opening statements?”
“None, Your Honor,” Emma replied impatiently. Even with Morgan sitting at the defense table, this trial was about as much of a slam dunk for the DA as any trial could possibly be, and she knew it. She just wanted to get it over with. Can’t fault her for that, I do too.
“Then, Counselor, how does Mr. Stevens plead?”
“Guilty, Your Honor. However, the Defense would like to recommend leniency in this case.” The adjutant and Emma remained silent, neither deciding to immediately contest the motion. So far so good, I guess.
“Very well, let’s hear it,” the adjutant replied, clearly about as bored as everyone else in the room.
Morgan sighed and rose from her seat. “My client was captured on multiple cameras committing this crime and has a prior record of petty crime, it’s true. However, my client’s past crimes range from minor vandalism to shoplifting, hence petty crime. The most nefarious crime on his record before this robbery was a dumpster fire that just barely caused a first-degree burn on a responding hapless firefighter, which healed within minutes. All this is to say, the sudden jump to felony armed robbery is uncharacteristic. An escalation of severity on this scale is indicative of a serious outside stressor, which in this case, was my client’s mother unexpectedly falling seriously ill. Mr. Stevens works a minimum-wage job and could not afford his mother’s treatment, so he, in a moment of mental weakness and distress, made the very poor decision to rob someone. My client is remorseful for his actions and will readily accept his sentence, however I believe the nature of his crime is understandable, hence why the defense recommends leniency.”
“This is hardly a rare sight these days; how many of these ‘remorseful’ criminals do we sentence, only to see them back out on the street committing the same crimes within the year?” Emma chimed in, still visibly bored.
“Straw man?”
“Withdrawn,” Emma practically yawned out.
The adjutant wasted no time. “I hereby sentence Mr. Randall Stevens to twelve months imprisonment with eligibility for parole. Anything to add, Counselor?”
“No, Your Honor.”
And with that, the most boring trial of recent history came to a close.
“What, trying to pad your record against me?” Morgan called.
Emma turned to face her, still looking exhausted and bored. “Haven’t we established you’re the only one keeping count?”
“Come on, spill it. Why? This trial is below you, isn’t it?”
“It’s below you too, and yet here you are.”
“I’m flattered. Now, why are you really here?”
“What, I can’t enjoy the scenery?” Emma smirked. Seeing Morgan’s complete lack of reaction to her subtle flirting, she sighed and put on her serious face. “Victim was a friend of a friend, and I haven’t been particularly busy recently either. You surely know what it’s like to go pro bono, don’t you? I mean, is that not why you’re here? Morgan Esquire, the hero of the David Ashur poisoning case, taking public defender work?” She couldn’t help herself and ended up teasing Morgan again. This time, she finally got the reaction she was looking for.
Morgan sighed and relented. “That offer for a coffee is still on the table, you know. It seems we have a lot to talk about.”
Emma smiled, “it seems we do. I think I’ll take you up on that this time, as long as you’re buying.”
Morgan chuckled, “kicking me while I’m down? I mean, I’m taking public defender work on ‘petty-with-a-prior’ cases, clearly I’m scraping the bottom of the financial barrel here.”
Emma laughed, “well, maybe you’d be better off if you stopped tanking the no-smoking fine to the face…”
“Fat chance.”
“So, where’s your totally-not-AI?” Emma began as soon as the two of them sat down, drinks in hand.
“It isn’t an AI, thought I proved that beyond shadow of a doubt.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, sorry. Where’s your medical assistant android?” Emma smirked, with an intensity in her eyes Morgan was all too familiar with. She had seen it countless times in the courtroom by now.
“Powered down at home, why do you care so much?”
“Withdrawn,” Emma joked, and the two laughed. “You know, I only ever really see you on the other side of the courtroom nowadays. What happened to us being friends?”
Oh, is that what we are? Morgan shrugged. “I don’t have too many friends, and the ones I do have definitely aren’t paid to be a pain in my ass.” More friends mean more eyes on me. I don’t need friends anyway, especially not if they’re her. Emma always made Morgan feel uneasy; that “profiling” of hers had already given her more insight than Morgan would’ve liked into Heartbreak’s true motives, and the reasonable part of Morgan’s mind knew that staying as far away from her as possible was the smartest way to play her hand.
Emma rested her chin on her palm and smiled across the table. “One could argue the same about you; you’re paid to be a pain in my ass.”
“Comes with the territory,” Morgan spat out dismissively, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Well, how’s this; work will always be work, but we don’t need to be a pain in each other’s asses all the time. So, I was thinking we thaw some of this ice between us.”
Morgan raised her eyebrow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, for starters; Ashur called you ‘Red,’ Serra calls you ‘Adonai,’ and Reyes has a plethora of colorful nicknames for you. I don’t know about Ashur, but I’ve definitely known you longer than most people who have nicknames for you, and I have to admit I’m almost hurt by that,” she chuckled. “So, how about it? If a nickname is too much, how does first-name basis sound?”
Absolutely not. “Why?” ‘Why’ indeed? Why did I invite her out to coffee if I’m supposed to be staying as far away from her as possible? There’s back-scratching to make my job a bit easier, but Emma Rockford doesn’t back down or bend over for anyone, no matter what. This is a waste of my time.
“Were you even listening? ‘Thawing the ice,’ you know? You’re telling me you don’t want to get closer, maybe even be friends?”
ABSOLUTELY not… but- “I mean, sure.” No one’s ever gotten her to back down even a little bit, but there’s a first time for everything. To be fair, no one beat her in the court room until me. And she is seeking me out for this pretty actively, so I guess it could work. Fine, you got me, Emma Rockford. I’ll bite. “What did you have in mind?”
Emma smiled with a flash of triumph in her eyes. “Well, I like ‘Red’ but I understand if that’s a bit too special to Dr. Ashur, and if it brings back bad memories, which is why I was asking you first.”
Morgan shrugged. “Red’s fine. He’s not the only one who called me that.” He was, but it doesn’t matter. “Am I sticking with ‘Emma’ then?”
She smiled, “I’d like that.”
“Where are you going, Adonai?” Serra peeked up from the TV to watch Morgan attempt to quietly shuffle out the door.
“Out. Stay here. Be back soon.” It’s all gone to hell. Everything is falling apart. Every single noise is too loud, every single streetlight is too bright. The heat on me has been way too hot ever since Ashur’s trial. I haven’t been able to… *go out* since before the trial. I have to, I have to do this tonight.
I feel every single blood cell rushing through my veins, even the sensation of blood flowing is starting to overwhelm me. I just need all of it to stop. I know the window and the area. I know the patrols and the pedestrians. I have everything except a target.
It was loud, it was just too damn loud. A car rushing down the street, two drunk people arguing in the street. The man stumbles and bumps into a woman walking alone. DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME. I want to kill him for that alone, but the window isn’t open yet. Not enough time. It’s still too early. Eyes on every corner.
She’s beautiful, long brown hair, beading brown eyes, singing and dancing through the streets in a drunken stupor. She sounds awful, too damn loud. She would be perfect if she would just quiet down. She’s looking at me, smiling at me. Her friends kept walking, she stayed behind. Hey, you’re pretty. Oh yeah? My name’s Robin what’s yours. Singing like a little songbird.
I hate songbirds.
Smiling, touching, kissing, she smells like booze. I can’t take this much longer. One more second of smelling this rancid little-
Darkness all across the streets, it’s The Window. Eyes are closed, ears are shut. Follow me. Where to? You’ll see.
Back in the alleyway, no one will look back here. Ever. Didn’t know you were dirty like that. Me? Dirty? Yeah, I’ll have to wash your filth off me. The stench may never wash out. You disgust me. Blinding lights, deafening sounds, it’s too much, IT’S TOO MUCH
Put my hands around her neck and shove her into the wall. Songbird chirping, songbird squeaking, songbird choking. Sing, sing little songbird. Sing as I push my thumbs into your throat. Sing, little songbird, sing and scream for help. No one will save you. No one will hear you. The city sleeps, you are the last noise. And I hate noise. Shh, sleep, little songbird. Sobbing, choking, kicking and scratching- it’s no use. Sleep now, little songbird, let me watch you die. Struggle, fight, and cry, no one is coming to save you.
Please, please don’t kill me.
Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP AND DIE. Push even harder, push until the snap
Silence
Golden, glorious silence. Drop the little songbird, singing no more.
Shaking, spasming silently, yes, YES, PERFECT
Stumble back home, golden silence the whole way. I can’t walk straight, still spasming. It felt good, it felt so good.
Snap, I’ll hear that sound in my dreams tonight.
My sweet, silent dreams.
I don’t even make it that far. In the shower, only sound I hear, snap. Snap, and no more songbird. My heart is racing, that was so much fun. See her face, see her fear, touch myself, watch the life leave her eyes, feel myself shaking again.
I’m exhausted, like I just had the party of a lifetime.
I go to bed, snap ringing in my ears.
“Really, Red? Taking even more losing cases? Come on, business can’t be that bad.” Emma approached the familiar lawyer standing in the courthouse lobby.
Morgan turned and offered her rival a warm smile. “Good morning to you too, Emma. I’m just picking up a few documents, though. Not taking any cases. What about you? You’re up awfully early.”
Emma snorted, “you think I slept last night? Maybe we really should talk more, you clearly don’t know me very well.”
Morgan retrieved her documents from an android behind the front desk, then they walked together and sat side by side on a nearby bench. “Alright then, tell me; what does the legendary District Attorney Emma Rockford do on Wednesday nights, and why does it not involve sleeping?” Morgan inquired, smiling at her the whole time.
Well, she’s awfully chipper this morning, Emma thought to herself. “Heartbreak coming back but with another M.O. shift isn’t exactly conducive to relaxation and sleep.”
The color drained from Morgan’s face. “Heartbreak is back? How are you so sure?”
Emma sighed. “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, and it’s just speculation anyway, but what the hell. I trust you, sue me.”
“You trust me?” Morgan snorted.
Emma laughed, “yeah, with this at least, against my better judgement. Anyways, I’ve told you my theory that Heartbreak isn’t the type of person to stop killing. He’s killed before the six women we attribute to him, and he will keep killing until he’s stopped. I still believe that’s true.”
“So, what exactly makes you think HK is back?”
Emma let out a sigh that quickly evolved into a yawn. “Nothing concrete; I told you it’s just speculation. Police got a missing person report late last night, and London told me about it.”
“What’s the DA’s business with a missing person report? They got a suspect?”
Emma sat up in her seat, “no; he and I exchanged a few theories about HK and he called me because he thought this report had potential to be HK and he wanted a second pair of eyes on it. My eyes specifically, he said. Together, we’ve been chasing down the vague connection of victim appearance. As you know, all of HK’s victims were…”
“Women who look like you, yeah. Long brown hair and brown eyes. I thought you also said that was a weak link?” Morgan leaned in as she spoke, indicating her personal interest in the case.
“Police said it was a weak link. My running profile on HK indicates that all these victims have to be linked somehow. I don’t think he chooses them at random, at least not entirely. My thought is, maybe Homicide’s initial read of ‘victim six’ being the culmination of the first five shootings isn’t entirely misguided. Maybe HK is targeting these women because of someone in his life; maybe it’s someone he can’t kill no matter how badly he wants to, or maybe it’s just a really deep personal grudge. Who knows? Point is, a woman with long brown hair and brown eyes went missing last night, and the implications kept me up to brainstorm.” Emma rubbed her face then leaned back against the wall behind the bench. “So, tell me, why does a lawyer care about HK? This isn’t the first time we’ve talked about him, and I don’t get why you’re so invested in it.”
Morgan shrugged dismissively. “I wouldn’t say I’m invested, just curious. You know, first I exonerate Flatt, then we keep talking about it? It’s kinda just become a brain worm of mine by now. This profiling stuff you keep talking about is definitely contributing to that interest, I think it’s some neat stuff.”
Emma smiled. “Alright, well, would you be terribly upset with me if I asked you to take my mind off it for a bit instead? I think I owe you a coffee.”
Morgan smiled right back, “coffee sounds great right about now.”
They slipped into the same seats at the same table in the same coffee shop, with the same drinks. “So, where’s your totally-not-AI?” Emma asked. Morgan glanced at her in confusion, before the start of yesterday’s conversation popped back up in her memory and she laughed.
“You wanna get your mind off HK, right?” Morgan asked. Emma nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “Alright, tell me a bit about yourself.”
“What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”
“I know you prefer tea over coffee, which is probably why you rejected me the first time I offered, even though we’re here now by your offer. I’m guessing you picked something randomly off the menu yesterday and ordered the same thing again just so you don’t hold up the line, since you clearly know nothing about coffee. I also know you read true crime novels religiously, mainly because you’re too good for them. You get some kind of weird satisfaction out of unraveling the poor author’s carefully crafted story as fast as you possibly can.” Morgan paused to take a sip of her own coffee. Black, bitter, quiet.
Emma laughed. “Is there a question in there, Counselor~?”
Morgan chuckled into her cup, then set it down and continued. “Allow me to rephrase; what can you tell me that I don’t already know?”
“Well, it sounds like you went pretty deep to find a profile of me, so I guess I can only tell you things the internet doesn’t know. Knowing you, your search was probably pretty intricate.”
“Guilty as charged. So, what would the internet not know about you?”
“Oh, you know; my body count, my sizes, things like that.” She wore a devious smirk and blushed ever so slightly, speaking over the rim of her cup.
Morgan sighed, maintaining absolute composure and not reacting in the slightest. “Well, I don’t really have any use for that, so I guess I have all the information I could want about you.”
“Could I ask you a few questions, then? Fair’s fair, right?”
“What’s fair about this? You don’t tell me anything, and now you ask me to give up information in the name of fairness?!” I won’t tell her a single damn word about me. Talking to her is a minefield, and I happen to be off-balance today.
“You’re such a lawyer,” Emma pouted. “But really, you don’t want anything else about me at all? Not even my sexuality? I know of a few online sources off the top of my head that have been chomping at the bit trying to figure that one out.” Morgan shook her head. “Aw, come on, you’re not even a little bit curious?”
“Nope, not at all.” I guess I could push for embarrassing information about her I can use as leverage, but she would never- wait, is she not offering that to me of her own free will right now? I guess sexuality isn’t necessarily that, but the other things certainly could be. Maybe it would be worth pushing her for-
“Are you familiar with ‘ransom facts,’ Red?”
Of course I am, they’re at least half of my damn job… “Not in the slightest, what are you talking about?”
“It’s a trust exercise, more or less. You and I share a secret with each other that could cause a lot of harm in one way or another. Usually that ‘harm’ is just embarrassment, but I have heard cases of people confessing crimes to each other as ransom facts.” Morgan put a hand to her chin and forced a confused expression. Emma bought it and continued to explain. “The point is that you give each other a sort of ‘mutually assured destruction’ option, with the hope that you never have to use it. If you both keep the secret, then you know you can trust each other. But if one person doesn’t keep the secret, at least the other can release their half of the secret to even the playing field. Would you be interested in something like that?”
Not even a little bit. This is such an absolutely awful idea for me; she will take anything I give her and run with it, she’s way too smart to play with. But, maybe… “You’d have to go first, because I’m still a little muddy on the details here.” That was an awful excuse, and Morgan had no idea why she ever thought Emma might buy it.
Emma’s smirk deepened. “No way would I let the lawyer hear my dirty secret first, you lot aren’t exactly known for being trustworthy.”
Am I really about to Raise this? Eh, why the hell not, this isn’t super serious anyway. “I’m not trustworthy? Remind me how many innocent people are in prison because they trusted a DA to tell the truth?”
Emma snorted. “Everyone I put away is guilty; the evidence makes sure of that. Can you tell me how many criminals are roaming free because a lawyer lied well enough to convince the jury the evidence was wrong?”
“If you don’t trust me in the first place, then what’s the point of a trust exercise?”
Emma leaned forward and clasped her hands in front of her face. “Because I want to trust you, Red. With more than just my theories about HK.”
Now Morgan was the one to snort. “If you want to trust me, then trust me.” She downed the rest of her coffee in one long gulp then similarly leaned forward to match Emma’s posture. “You’ve given me no reason to believe you won’t burn me. You’re bringing this up because you want me to spill juicy details about myself. As far as I’m concerned, you need to give me the assurance first. Gotta pay the blind before you get your cards, right?”
“I didn’t take you for a connoisseur of the card table.”
“I dabble. Now, are you paying into the pot or not?”
Emma leaned back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. Morgan had seen her make the same move countless times in the courtroom; she’s thinking. Eventually, she sighed and relaxed her posture. “Fine, I’ll go first. The impetus here is gonna be embarrassment, since I’m planning on talking a bit about my- shall we say- preferences. But first, conversations like these are better suited for places without prying ears.” A black SUV with tinted windows pulled up in front of the shop, and Emma stood to leave, presumably walking to it. She spoke over her shoulder to Morgan, who was following her. “That’s my ride. Driven by an add with no capabilities for verbal commands, if you catch my drift.”
I do; it can’t process human voices, so our conversation will truly be private. I love adds that can’t hear, they make my job- no, jobs- very easy.
Emma tapped a few commands into her phone and the add driver took off. Most people would enable voice commands in their drivers so they could just say an address, but Emma was far too careful and curated to opt for the lazy solution to a problem. She turned her phone off and set it down beside her. Emma and Morgan sat side by side in the back seat; such an arrangement was far more conducive to the conversation they were about to have. “Alright, now that the environment is far more suitable, I’ll go first, as agreed.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Morgan called, with a calculated slight worry in her voice.
Emma smirked, “you think I’m doing this because I have to? No, I just wanna know your dirty secrets that badly~” She cleared her throat. “Okay, you probably guessed, but I’m going to be talking about my love life a little bit. For starters, I’ve had a few girlfriends in my time, but never anything super serious. Longest relationship was a year and a half. Here’s the juicy parts though; I’ve been the one to initiate and the one to break up every single time. And to make matters worse for me, I’m usually the bottom in the relationship. So basically, I end up obsessed with some girl, tell her to basically abuse me, then I leave when I hit my limit.”
“…that’s it? You have relationship problems? Like most other people in this city?” Morgan tried and failed not to be disappointed. I can’t use that at all! She might as well have not said anything.
Emma shrugged, “sorry, my life’s pretty boring. The depths of my problems and insecurities are all I can really offer. Here’s the thing about ransom facts though, you’re expected to give me something of equal value. So, you don’t have to go super deep to match that. You don’t have to like, you know, confess all your crimes to me.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Morgan didn’t miss even a quarter of a beat, replying with a dry tone. If I didn’t go out last night, I might’ve faltered on that. Proof that she’s way too dangerous to be around. I need to appease her and get out as fast as possible. “So, in the essence of fairness, I can tell you something equally boring about my love life?”
Emma leaned forward in her seat, “that’s exactly what I wanted to ask you about, actually.”
“Well, you’re also going to be disappointed, because there isn’t one.”
“…pardon?”
“I don’t have a love life. Never had, probably never will.” I don’t need other people; they actually just get in my way most of the time.
Emma stifled a laugh by pressing the back of her hand to her lips. “You’re serious? You don’t have any relationship experience?”
“Absolutely none. What’s so funny about that?”
Emma let out her restrained laugh in an amused snort. “It’s just… it’s so hard for me to believe that Evangeline Morgan is a virgin…”
Of course, I can’t stand sex. Too loud, too many sensations, and I’ve never found my target. “Am I supposed to be flattered or offended?”
“Well, that’s up to you! I’m just saying, you’re certainly both charismatic and attractive enough to find a partner, so why haven’t you? Lack of interest?”
Morgan shrugged and relaxed into her seat. “More like I haven’t found the right person.”
Emma snorted again, “no way, don’t tell me you’re a hopeless romantic???”
Ugh, DEFINITELY not! “Maybe.”
“So, it’s not that you aren’t in the market, got it. But really, you haven’t even found the wrong person before?”
“I’m quite picky.” Morgan stared out the window, rapidly losing interest in the conversation. I’m just bleeding information at this point and getting nothing in return.
“Can I ask, boys or girls?”
“You can ask, I don’t have to answer though.”
“Tell me, and that’ll be the end of this conversation. Or, lemme put it this way; I’m not gonna leave you alone until you tell me.”
“Girls, probably.” Morgan tossed nonchalantly, still staring out the window.
“What do you mean, probably?” Emma pushed to raise, but went bust.
“I already answered your question, that’s that. No more freebies; you want more out of me, pay for it.”
“Ugh, you’re such a lawyer,” Emma teased.
Morgan turned to face her and smiled, although she had no idea why she was smiling in this situation. “I’ll give you three good guesses as to why that could be.”
They laughed in unison. Emma’s laughter was quite loud as it echoed through the confined space of the car, but Morgan didn’t mind.
Emma’s phone buzzed and she promptly picked it up, answering the incoming call without even checking the contact. “Rockford,” she answered. Her face contorted into various amusing expressions as she listened to the voice on the other end, which Morgan could not recognize. It was masculine, but that was all she could make out. “I see, I’ll be right over. Thanks, London.” She hung up the call and turned to speak to Morgan, but Morgan’s phone rang before she could even say a single word.
Serra started speaking immediately after Morgan picked up. “Redirecting a call from Homicide Department.” The moment the android stopped speaking, the line clicked and transferred.
Morgan gathered herself and answered this time, “Morgan Esquire.”
A gruff and annoyed feminine voice replied, “get your ass down to the station, our suspect just asked for you by name.”
“Good morning, Sunshine! How have you been?” Morgan couldn’t help but tease the young detective.
“I’d be a lot better if I could go the rest of the day without seeing you,” Reyes barked on the other end of the call. “Hurry up, I want this piece of shit behind bars before dinner tonight. End call.” The line clicked once again, signaling her voice command had gone through. Morgan snorted in amusement then turned to meet Emma’s eyes.
“What are the odds we’re going to the same place?” Emma mused.
“The precinct?”
“Pretty high, I guess~” Emma tapped a few commands for their driver into her phone, then set it down on her lap. “I can’t imagine Reyes was too talkative. What did she want from you?”
“Apparently they apprehended a suspect in some crime who lawyered up… by asking for me by name.”
Emma sighed, “that’s just great. According to London, they have a suspect for the missing person case from last night and they just brought him in.”
“Who is he, a boyfriend or something?” Morgan asked, knowing damn well that was very likely not the case.
“No, he was standing over the body of our missing girl. He’s a suspect in homicide.”
“You mean…?”
“We could have HK in custody, and he apparently just asked for you by name.”
Well, shit. That’s not good.
The ever-opposed attorneys stepped out of the car, surprised at the crowd already gathered outside the normally-all-but-abandoned police station. Pushing their way through the crowd, they walked inside, where London was waiting for them. He wasted no time at all, and started his briefing the second the front doors closed behind them. “Autopsy report came in about a minute ago. Time of death was some time around two in the morning last night, which is about three hours before the missing person report came in. Cause of death was asphyxiation due to total airway collapse. Bastard strangled her so hard her neck snapped. We got his modded arm to thank for that jolly news.”
Snap. Morgan shuddered at the memory.
“So, he killed her last night, then came back to check on his handiwork?” Emma asked, audibly confused.
London shrugged, “I guess. Innocent people don’t run when they’re seen standing over a dead body. Maybe he came back because he was starting to feel braver? Maybe he was moving up his timeline or something.”
“Or maybe you have the wrong guy,” Morgan chimed in. Emma and London glared at her. “I mean, no one’s told me jack shit about this case so far, so I’m just speculating.”
London exhaled strongly and smirked. “So, Reyes didn’t fill you in fully, I should’ve known.” They walked into the homicide department’s office and London sank into the chair behind his desk. “Suspect’s name is Robert Downey. Witness saw him kneeling next to a woman this morning, called out to him, and he immediately took off. When the witness approached, they found a corpse and called us immediately. Didn’t take us too long to find him and bring him in. He was seen at a bar with the victim last night just before time of death, so we know he was in the area. That’s good enough to at least bring him in.”
“So, you’re holding him under suspicion alone, you don’t have anything to tie to him,” Morgan clarified.
London sighed; he’d clearly had a long day so far. “Nothing super concrete, no. Victim had Downey’s prints on her but he was seen touching her postmortem, so a smart lawyer could explain that away. Reyes let slip that we think this guy could potentially be HK, hence the circus outside." Well, that would explain why Reyes was even more hostile than usual to me, that's one hell of a rookie mistake. "We think that because of the victim’s appearance matching the other known victims, but also Mr. Downey has a few other points that hit for us.” Under Emma’s surprisingly intense stare, London strayed away from the HK point. No need to play your cards too early, especially in the presence of the enemy; a lawyer. “Anyways, the important part is he was in the area and was acting suspicious. Unluckily for us, but luckily for our dear Counselor, most of the evidence is circumstantial. Convincingly circumstantial, but circumstantial nonetheless. I’m ready to turn out the lights in there whenever you are, go nuts.”
“I trust you’ll send me the ARCS and any other related footage?”
London shrugged, “we don’t have much in the way of footage; kill happened during a scheduled camera drop window, if you can believe it.” He chuckled at his own sarcasm. “But yeah, ARCS is uploading to you as we speak, and the witness who called us this morning sent us their Mod-eye footage of that encounter. That's on its way to you too.”
“Thank you, detective. I imagine we won’t be long at all; we certainly weren’t the last time you held an innocent man.” Morgan looked toward the interrogation room the police were still trying to label as anything else, before taking a moment to look over the files London had sent her. She already knew the scene pretty well, but she did have to be careful to only use information the police tagged in ARCS. That would be one hell of a way to defend a client though; this guy is innocent, and I know because I’m the real murderer! Anyways, let’s see what I have to work with here.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Downey,” Morgan began cordially as she walked into the interrogation room.
Robert Downey was a tall and muscular man, although his posture would never suggest that. He sat practically retreating into his chair, as if he were hoping he could hide inside himself like a turtle. According to the police’s profile, he was around 185 centimeters tall and weighed around 104 kilograms mod-less. His prosthetic left arm, an entirely unremarkable standard issue mod for government employees, reflected the inconsistent light of the room with a slight twinkle. By all accounts, he was massive, likely due to his career in city planning and construction. Morgan could already piece together all the little unfortunate facts that were lining up to stand against Downey, and if she were capable of feeling pity, she would absolutely be wallowing in the poor guy’s situation alongside him. He met her eyes and smiled weakly, “Miss Morgan, I presume?”
“Just Morgan is fine. How about you, Mr. Downey? What can I call you?” Make the client comfortable; that’s the best way to handle things like this. If he’s panicking the whole time, he’s way more likely to do or say something stupid that will make things harder for both of us.
Downey visibly relaxed, exactly as Morgan had hoped he would. “Um, my friends call me Bob.”
“Alright Bob, let’s talk shop.” Morgan sat across the table from him and crossed her legs while folding her hands atop the table. “Why did the police bring you in here today?”
Downey blinked in confusion. “You’re… not gonna ask if I killed her or not?”
Morgan smiled, still actively working to calm him. “I already know you didn’t, so instead I would like to use our limited time to talk about what went wrong, because you and I both know innocent people don’t get apprehended. So, what’s the story?”
He was still not completely calm, as Morgan could tell from where he started in the story. “I have no idea why they think I’m some serial killer, I’d never hurt anyone! Especially not Heartbreak, like, where did they even get that from?! I… that’s why I asked for you, I know you got that Flatt guy out of here, so maybe you can help me the same way.”
“I need to know what happened before I can make any promises about proving your innocence,” Morgan calmly explained, hoping to bring the conversation back on track.
“Right, right, sorry. Well…” he took a deep breath. “I was walking to work this morning, down Mercer Street, like I always do. I… this sounds really bad, but for some reason I decided to walk through the alleyway connecting Mercer and Elm. I never do it normally, I just randomly decided to do it today. And when I walked into the alley, I saw a shoe behind a dumpster, not normally something I would think too much about, but I could’ve sworn I saw someone was wearing it instead of it just being a normal discarded shoe. So, I went to check, and sure enough it was a woman. I…” his breathing accelerated and his eyes started subconsciously darting around the room. “This was so wrong of me, but I was hoping she was just, like, unconscious, you know? Her eyes were open and her neck was all bruised to hell, but I just… I didn’t wanna believe it, you know? I… so when that lady called out to me… I just started running, I don’t know why or where I was going or…”
“Bob, look at me. You’re innocent, so there is a way to prove it. I need you to stay with me so we can figure that out.”
He buried his face in his hands and took a few moments to stabilize his breathing. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I have anxiety and…” he trailed off.
“Is that diagnosed, by any chance?”
He looked up in confusion, but nodded. “Yeah, I take an SSRI for it.”
“Do you have a history of panic attacks? Even just one in your whole life will do.”
He looked around the room, still confused, but evidently, he was slowly calming down. He gave a self-deprecating chuckle and continued, “I almost went into one just now, actually. So yeah, I’ve had a few in my time.”
Morgan smiled. “You just bought your way out of suspicion for this morning. Now, all we need to do is prove you couldn’t have done the deed last night, and you are a free man.”
The momentary joy across Downey’s face was quickly chased away by more confusion. “Last night?”
“I need you to think back to the woman you found this morning. Have you ever seen her before?” Morgan pulled out the picture from the missing person report and put it on the table. “Here’s a more… typical photo of her.”
Downey examined the picture from a plethora of angles, but ultimately shook his head. “Other than this morning when I found her, no.”
“I see. Now, can you tell me about the bar you went to last night?”
“Uh, yeah, I go there all the time. After work, usually. I uh, I try not to go home for as long as possible…”
“Why’s that?” Morgan inquired, purposefully pushing into his discomfort. He didn’t budge. “You can either tell me, someone committed to proving your innocence, or you can have the police interrogate you about it and interpret whatever you say to assume the worst from you.”
Downey recoiled immediately. “Okay, alright. I- it’s my wife. We’ve been fighting a lot recently; she says I’m not pulling my weight.”
“So, someone could call your relationship ‘strained’ at the moment?” Downey nodded. “Your wife wouldn’t happen to have long brown hair and brown eyes, would she?”
“She does, actually. I can get a picture for you.”
“That won’t be necessary, I believe you. It does make things worse for you, however.” It’s weak, but with as little evidence as I have to work with, every little bit counts. I don’t think they can pin HK’s other victims on him right now, but they’ll definitely take this and anything else they can to try. It shouldn’t be too hard to clear him from that though, luckily for me. But first things first, I need to prove he didn’t kill this woman, and he’s not giving me very much to work with. “The victim was at the same bar as you last night, around the same time. What were you doing around two in the morning?”
Downey’s eyes bulged. “I was walking home, but… Shouldn’t there be surveillance footage of- oh no…” He buried his face in his hands again. “The rolling blackout, I completely forgot… There’s not even a single byte of footage proving me innocent, is there?”
Morgan shook her head solemnly. “I’m afraid not. That’s…” she caught herself. It isn’t publicly available knowledge that Heartbreak takes advantage of these random surveillance blackouts to kill. I do have a good reason to know that myself, but I can’t share that with him. “That’s part of the problem. If we can’t find an alibi for you, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do right at this moment.”
“You’re saying you can’t defend me?”
“I’m saying I can’t get you released from holding right this instant. I’ll need more information to prove you innocent, which I can absolutely get, but not from in here. At this rate it seems you’ll have to spend a few days in holding until your trial.” Panic began to well in his eyes once again. “Deep breaths, Bob. You’re right, I exonerated Flatt, I can get you out of this too.” She rose from her seat, I need to see the body, that’s my next best bet. “You did good though, asking for a lawyer immediately. You don’t have to say anything to them without me being present, remember that.”
“Thank you, Morgan. Really, you're a lifesaver.”
Reyes scoffed as Morgan left the interrogation room. “Time to play with your food again?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sunshine?” Morgan shot back. She turned her attention to London immediately, cutting off any rebuttal from Reyes. “It seems we’re in the same boat. Nothing concrete to tie to him, but nothing concrete to un-tie him, so to speak. I can’t convince you not to hold him, looks like we’re going to trial.” She smiled at Emma, who appeared to be lost in thought.
“Yeah…” Emma replied automatically, her mental distance visible in her eyes.
“Well, I’ll be off then, I suppose.” Hearing no objections, Morgan set off for the door, pulling out her phone and sending a text message to her own number: “need ride to morgue.” She had given Serra access to her phone, and the two had established that if they were ever separated, that would be how they communicate. Messages sent to her own number wouldn’t be saved in any data clouds or leave any crumbs, and she had instructed Serra to delete them after reading, which normally would only hide the message on the sender’s side and not the recipient’s. In this unique case, however, the sender and recipient are one and the same person, so once the message is deleted sender-side, it is effectively gone forever. Living with an AI required a certain finesse, and Morgan was not about to have all of her hard work in the Ashur trials chewed up and spat out by one or two small mistakes, so she took proactive measures to protect herself. Just like in my other line of work, she thought. If you’re reacting, you’re as good as dead. She pushed through the flood of people outside the station and eventually made it to the car Serra had dutifully sent to pick her up, tossing out a few “no comment” answers to pestering reporters as she went. Safely inside the car, Morgan was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. The crowd outside the station had grown into a bona fide mob at this point, much to her dismay. It seemed Heartbreak truly wasn’t going to die out so easy, and Emma was right to say he had become a sort of cultural icon.
Stupid, absolutely stupid. Six kills with a six shooter for the fun of it, and I’ve made a media sensation? Six precise, beautiful, perfect kills… ruined by these fucking MONGRELS who just *need* to give everything some sensationalized name. Those fucking hundred-word journalists who give the entire occupation a bad name, they’re making my life so much harder than it needs to be. I’ll find them, I could easily find all of them and shut them up for good- but that would just make things worse. And besides, most of them are probably greasy, bloated man-children anyway. They’re not worth my time, they’re no fun at all. Not as fun as…
Snap
The sound shot across her synapses once again and she shuddered in delight. Last night was something truly special; not a single one of her other kills had made her feel like this. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into the cushion of her seat and took a few shaky breaths while the sound and scene recreated themselves in her mind. As she replayed the moment over and over, slipping deeper and deeper into the tantalizing memory, her rational mind snapped back to attention. She caught her hand that had been subconsciously trailing across her inner thigh and was resting between her legs, scolding herself.
What the hell is my problem? I’m acting like such an amateur. I haven’t been this out of control since… I can’t even remember. I’m nothing like those sex-freak murderers, not even remotely. And yet here I am acting like one…
Emma Rockford
This is her fault. It’s her fault I couldn’t go out for so long. It’s her fault I got such a bad courtroom record and no clients to begin with. It’s her fault I had to use my hands last night. It’s her fault I’m losing control. Hell, it’s her fault HK is taking off.
Every single conversation Morgan ever had with the DA replayed in her mind back-to-back, and she felt a burning deep in her chest. It started out as anger, but gradually built and morphed into something else. Anger is easy to handle; find a target, kill, no more anger. But this? Killing Emma? No, that’s not right. She’s too much fun, it’s a waste to kill her. Maybe eventually, but I can have so much more fun with her first. That Ashur trial, my first ever win against her, I haven’t been the same since that night. Using my hands last night, realistically, that’s why. I don’t use my hands usually; guns are so much better at the job. Hands are personal, intimate even. Is that it? Is that what I want from her? It could be. If it’s her… she makes everything else that much more fun, why not sex? What I said to her earlier, not finding the right person, is there any truth to it? I mean, all eight of my most recent targets have all looked like her… what if it really isn’t a coincidence?
The car pulled up in front of Gatesfield Memorial Hospital and Morgan shook her head to refocus. There would be plenty of time later to agonize inside her mind; right now, she had a client to prove innocent.
“Yumi, right? Long time no see!” Morgan amped up the cheery attitude, since it had seemed to work around the Medical Examiner the last time they had met in the morgue.
“Good afternoon, Morgan. I take it you’re here for my new roommate, the one the news is saying was the Heartbreak Killer’s handiwork?”
“The news says all sorts of things, it’s my job to call them out on it.”
Yumi laughed, then turned to walk over to a table in the center of the room, where a humanoid shape covered by a white sheet lay. “You got here just in time; I was about to put her on ice.” Morgan’s favorite part of the beautiful and slightly eccentric examiner was how quickly she got to work, never leaving anyone waiting too long. She pulled the sheet down, exposing the victim’s head, shoulders, and arms, but leaving everything else covered. “Cause of death was strangulation, as I hope you can see,” she began, gesturing to the very clearly defined bruising around the throat. “Got choked out hard enough for one of the cervical vertebrae to fracture… Or, sorry, one of the bones in her neck broke.”
Morgan nodded, examining her handiwork with satisfaction and slight horror. How the hell did I even manage to do that? London even assumed a modded arm would be required to cause that kind of damage. Evidently it’s not, but… “Looking at wounds like this, would you automatically assume the suspect used a modded arm to inflict them?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised. That would certainly make it easier for him.”
“Easier? So, it’s possible to inflict this kind of damage with normal human hands?”
Yumi shuddered slightly. “I hate to think about it, but yeah. You really don’t need to be too strong to choke someone out. As for this kind of damage, I mean, I can even see someone with noodle arms like me being able to do it under the right circumstances. If you pissed me off enough, maybe I could muster the strength.”
Morgan nodded in approval. “Would you be willing to attest to that under oath if it came up? That a mod isn’t required for that kind of damage?”
“Actually, I’ll do you one better. At second glance, now that I think about it…” Yumi grabbed a pair of glasses off her desk and leaned in a bit closer to examine the bruising much more thoroughly. “Yeah, I’d say this can’t be caused by a mod. Mods are, y’know, metal, and if these bruises were made by a heavy metal object, I’d expect to see skin tearing or something else of the sort. Also, with the grip strength modern mods can hit, this amount of damage is frankly pathetic in comparison.”
“That’s a bit better, although still not quite perfect. My client does have a mod arm, but he does still have a normal one to do this with…”
“Oh! I think that might actually clear him completely,” Yumi chirped excitedly. “Look, the bruising is super even all the way around. Whoever did this used a two-hand grip and applied the same strength with each hand. And with how incredibly similar these marks are… I’d say the killer used two organic hands.”
“How certain are you of that?” Morgan asked, already knowing her evaluation was accurate, on account of Morgan's own two organic hands. “Is it remotely possible that a mod arm could be calibrated to the exact same grip strength as an organic hand?”
Yumi snorted, “are you serious? Why would he bother?”
“I agree it’s stupid, but it looks like this case could be going to court, and Rockford is going to be prosecuting. You know how thorough she is. I need to be ready for absolutely everything.”
“Short answer, no. Again, it’s how the bruises look. A two-handed grip with one mod one organic would not look so even. And even if it somehow could, the damage would still be greater on the mod side because of it being metal. There’s no way a modder could do this. The more I look at it, the more certain I am of that.”
Morgan took a step back from the table and took a deep breath. She was starting to feel… excited… from being so close to her handiwork, and she had just gotten everything she could need for her trial. She took a few steps to re-gather her façade and settle down, selling the illusion of a lawyer who just got everything she could possibly need for her case. “Dr. Sato, you just saved an innocent man’s life. You can put this on record if you want; I owe you a drink.”
“I’ll hold you to that for sure. Till next time, glad I could help!”
“I’m sorry to admit it, but I lied.” Morgan sat on the edge of Reyes’s desk with an infuriatingly smug grin.
“What else is new,” Reyes grumbled, trying to ignore her.
“What about?” London asked, without looking up from whatever he was reading on his monitor.
“I’d like for you to release my client from holding, he’s innocent.”
“What else is new,” Reyes grumbled again, with much more audible frustration bleeding into her voice.
Within the minute, Downey, Morgan, London, and Reyes all sat inside the interrogation room, feeling a strong wave of déjà vu. However, this time, Morgan knew Emma was pacing around outside, watching and listening. Morgan produced a piece of paper from her inner jacket pocket and set it down on the table, sliding it across to London.
“What I have here is a written statement from Dr. Yumi Sato at the Gatesfield Memorial Hospital morgue. In her expert opinion, it is impossible for a modder to have killed the woman you claim was killed by my client.”
London scanned the paper multiple times, then set it down and sighed. He went to stand up and fish the handcuff keys out of his pocket, but Reyes jumped up to stop him. “That’s it? One piece of paper and we let Heartbreak back out on the streets? No, that can’t be enough. Every single thing matches! The guns, the right hand, the victims, the…”
“With that statement, my client is cleared of the murder charge you placed on him. Unless you would like to charge him with HK’s other six murders, he will be walking out of here a free man within the hour.”
Reyes twitched, almost as if she wanted to do exactly that, but London waved her away. His exhaustion was audible in his voice as he spoke; “no, that won’t be necessary. Mr. Downey, allow me to personally apologize for my mistake of arresting an innocent man.”
Walking home. I see a cat. Cats are pretty rare nowadays, especially strays.
Haven’t bothered with animals since I was a kid, but I’m feeling fucking whimsical.
No one around, and I’m in a rare camera dead zone. I bend down, hold out my hand, it comes strutting right over. Nuzzles my glove, purring, looking all happy with itself.
I don’t know what it is with animals, but their instincts never seem to tell them just how dangerous I really am. Their loss.
I remember why I don’t bother with them anymore. It’s a lame little crack, not a robust snap. Much less satisfying.
I toss the thing aside and keep walking. I’m disappointed.
Serra glanced up from the TV as the front door swung open, and Morgan walked in. “Welcome back, Adonai. How was the case?”
“Disappointingly easy,” she replied, with audible exasperation. She draped her coat over the rack, fished out a pack of cigarettes and her lighter, then habitually lit one up. Walking over to the couch, she sank into it beside Serra and let out a sigh as she let herself relax. “What’re we watching?”
“A movie about a banker who gets wrongly accused of and arrested for murder. He is trying to escape right now.”
Morgan let out an acknowledging “hm” and let her mind wander. She wouldn’t be paying any attention to the movie at all, but Serra always seemed to enjoy talking about what she was watching, and Morgan treated the android the same way she did David Ashur. She would smile and nod along to whatever they say, without hearing much of it at all. Time passed. Hours or minutes, Morgan couldn’t tell and didn’t care. Serra was similarly too thoroughly invested in the movie to keep track of passing time.
A knock on the door drew both out of their inattentive haze. Morgan got up and went to the door, opening it without much thought. Emma Rockford stood in the doorway, looking exhausted as ever, and holding an expensive-looking bottle of wine in her hands. “Good evening. Someone gifted this to me and I can’t possibly drink it all by myself, so may I come in?”
Morgan chuckled. “Sure, why not.” Stepping aside to let Emma in, she glanced at the couch and saw Serra staring up at them expectantly. “Serra, go to bed,” she ordered. That was one of many coded orders they had worked through; it was incredibly efficient to have complex commands keyed and classified by simple phrases, especially when trying to hide that your android is secretly an illegal AI. Serra’s eyes went blank as she executed the command, walking into Morgan’s laundry room to power down, closing the door behind her after entering. Out of sight and out of mind. Emma took the bottle to Morgan’s kitchen counter, setting it down and leaning against the counter, eyeing Morgan with a curious expression. However, Morgan would be the first to strike. “So, should I be filing a lawsuit? You clearly know where I live despite the fact that I never told you.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Your address was listed in Serra’s registration papers. I can’t tell you how many times I read those papers top to bottom scanning every little detail, so it’s not too surprising I’d end up accidentally memorizing your address.” Morgan produced two wine glasses from one of her cabinets and set them down on the counter before wandering over to sink back into the couch. “Twice now you’ve taken a slam-dunk HK suspect and proven them innocent, how do you keep managing that?” Emma asked, with a vague hint of joking in her voice.
Morgan shrugged, “maybe it’s not something I’m doing, but rather something the police are doing; arresting innocent people.”
Emma chuckled, walking over to the couch and handing Morgan a glass of wine. She sat down next to Morgan, taking a sip from her own glass, then turned to the TV, which was still playing the movie. “What’s this all about?”
Morgan scoured her brain for what Serra had said, eventually regurgitating it nearly word for word: “A banker who gets wrongly accused of and arrested for murder.” She didn’t finish Serra’s statement, because she had no idea where in the plotline the movie was now, and didn’t want to get caught being wrong if Emma had somehow seen the movie before.
Emma took another sip of wine and laughed, “seems like your kind of movie.”
“None of this would’ve happened if he had a good lawyer though,” Morgan commented with a laugh and sip of her own. At least the expensive shit has a tolerable taste. “So, why’re you really here?”
Emma sighed and settled into the couch cushions. “It’s been a really long day; can’t I just want to have a few drinks with a friend?”
“You didn’t have to show up at my door to have a few drinks with me.”
Emma snorted. “Believe it or not, your address was easier to find than your phone number, so this actually was the easiest way to contact you.”
“My phone number is listed front and center on my website, don’t tell me you didn’t even try that? If so, you’re really getting rusty,” Morgan teased. She already knew very well what Emma’s response would be, but getting under her skin as much as possible was absolutely imperative.
“I’m willing to bet that isn’t your personal phone number; it’s probably a number handled by your little android paralegal, which would mean it’s not a valid way to contact you outside business hours. Instead of wasting my time there, I just came straight here. Sue me.” She finished the rest of her glass and stood to grab the bottle she had stranded on the kitchen counter, immediately pouring herself another glass as soon as she sat down.
“So, since the guy’s cleared of suspicion, can I ask why you thought Downey was HK? I’ll admit, I really don’t see it. And that’s not just me talking as his lawyer, I genuinely don’t see the connection. Reyes mentioned something about guns?”
Emma shook her head disapprovingly. “That little hothead’s gotta learn how to keep her mouth shut, I swear. Yeah, Downey was a gun nut. A collector, according to his wife. London went to take a look at his collection, and apparently Downey had a few of the old-timey gunpowder models in his collection. Not real, all of those old ones were just models, but it wasn’t a great look.”
“What about the wife? He said they were fighting. Was it just finances, or something else?”
“Finances was a big one. She’s a bigwig researcher type, so her paycheck is… hefty, compared to his, to say the least. I'm also not supposed to say things like this, but," she sighed. "I'd call her abusive. The way she talks about him set off alarm bells for me, and it made me start wondering how many of his bruises were really from work. Of course, I can also see how that could lead to serial murder. He’s angry with his wife, but he can’t kill her, so he takes it out on other women who look like her. It fits, and he has the requisite knowledge to pull off HK’s other murders, but…”
“There’s nothing even remotely concrete to tie him to any murder, let alone HK’s other six,” Morgan finished for her.
“Yeah. Another thing is the M.O. shift, it’s really tripping me up. HK’s kills were with a gun; cold, impersonal, distant. It suggests he’s more about the ritual than the kill itself. It’s more about feeling powerful by evading cameras and being the thing that goes bump in the night than it is about inflicting pain on someone else. But last night’s kill, he switched to his hands. That’s about as personal as you can get. It suggests he’s angry, starting to break down, starting to lose control. He’s overtaken by an overwhelming urge to kill. I wouldn’t be surprised if it came from all the heat on the HK case making security crack down in a lot of places. He can’t go out as often as he wants to because it’s too dangerous, so he just has to sit with his impulses, and that pisses him off even more.”
“So, Downey was too calm to be HK, despite the fact he nearly had a panic attack in holding?” Morgan’s voice was completely free of sarcasm, despite the contents of her statement. She sought clarification, nothing more.
“No, far from it. If anything, this frustration would make HK seem even more normal and composed on the outside. He’s so used to bottling everything up and hiding it that all his added stress never makes it to the surface. He stores all of it up, and lets it out when he finally does get to kill, which is why his kills are so much more violent now. I’d expect to see some overkill in the future, maybe even some weapons other than hands or guns. Could see a stabbing soon,” she shuddered, “as much as I hate to think about what that could look like.”
Morgan finished what was left in her glass and clicked the TV off; the background noise was starting to get annoying. Emma immediately poured her another glass and Morgan didn’t waste any time with it, taking another long sip. “You sound almost scared of this HK guy,” she stated, with an almost accusatory tone.
“How could I not be? I am his preferred victim type, and I think he’s moving his schedule up. Forgive me for not wanting to be alone right now~” Emma smiled through her glass at Morgan.
Snap
Morgan’s heart rate quickened, and she didn’t bother trying to control it. She set down her wine glass and turned to face Emma. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to tell me something with all of our conversations today. Are you?”
“Oh, I don’t know, am I?” Her smirk widened into a grin as she took another long sip of wine.
Morgan shrugged, refusing to play into her trap. “Alright, I guess I was wrong then.” She stood up, downed the rest of her wine glass, and calmly walked over to leave it in the sink. As she walked, she heard footsteps behind her. The second she set the glass down and turned, Emma struck first. She pushed Morgan into the kitchen counter and lunged forward into a kiss.
SNAP
Morgan felt a familiar wave of excitement crash into her; she had previously only felt it when locked deep in a battle of wits with the DA in a courtroom. The endless give and take, the ebb and flow, the tangible potential coursing through every action, it’s just so FUN.
Morgan put her hands on Emma’s waist and leaned into the kiss, fine, I’ll play. She had never felt this way about someone; she had never wanted someone in this way, or this badly. A foreign, unfamiliar emotion pulsed across her synapses and named itself Lust, and Morgan welcomed it with open arms. It rushed over her and threatened to leave her breathless in an instant, but it was just too exhilarating to resist. Just as she was about to be swept away by it fully, Emma retreated.
“Fine, you want me to admit it? I’ll admit it. I’ll admit I was sizing you up earlier. I’ll admit I’ve been trying to get closer to you. I’ll admit I came here tonight with less-than-pure intentions. I’ll admit I want you…”
“Shut up,” Morgan interrupted in a captivating whisper, pulling her back in for another kiss. Talk is worthless in this moment, it’s just noise pollution. Conversations like these could go entirely unspoken, and were actually better that way. A burning fervor drove Morgan as she parted her lips and darted her tongue into Emma’s mouth. The heat crashed into Emma’s own flames as she reciprocated the motion.
Emma wordlessly sang confessions of her depravity and desire with each action as she let her hands slip inside Morgan’s shirt and gradually work through each button one by one. Separating from the kiss, her breathing became heavy panting while her eyes danced across the supple skin of Morgan’s body. Her expression said it all.
Clothing was gradually shed and left littering the floor, marking a pathway to Morgan’s bedroom.
That night, Morgan learned an important lesson in the distinction between noise and music.
Emma’s voice is music to my ears.