loki456
10-25-2010, 01:07 AM
Chain Reaction
written by Loki456
FIRST KILL
My thoughts ruminated as I gazed past Lakewood park at the yellow police line. I couldn't help but think that there a man stood. A man like no other. Standing like only few others had before him. His hands rolling with an extra pyramidal predetermination, and his gaze fixed as he stood on the street sidewalk. It would not be a stare that resonated from boredom, but rather a cold, calculating preoccupation with his surroundings. I once heard of this man, 'dumb as door nails and retarded' seemed to be the most used urban vernacular for his description. But now, standing in front of me was not the man harnessing an IQ equivalent to that of a 6yr old. Here stands a wily and cunning individual. Apt in all area's of evidence, a student of facts and probabilities and as far I am concerned, a threat to a media induced, hysterical community.
He was dubbed the 'chain reaction man'. Menacing tabloids flashed on their front covers irrelevant Greek letters circling a giant ghosted question mark. The obvious intention to instill a sense of social distrust in their fellow strangers. Hell, what else are the media good at doing well? And secondly, to of course make my life a bit more complicated than it already was. My name is Detective John Waterford, San Diego PD. And I’m the lucky S.O.B that got to cuff Edward Lorcester, aka 'the chain reaction man'.
I had the fortunate or unfortunate (depending on your take on the situation) chance to encounter this eccentric's handiwork. As I thumbed the evidence bag, silently pondering, I just couldn't believe that he caused so many murders with only a fake Rolex. With over a hundred of these watches accounted for at various 'suspicious' crime scenes over the last decade, one can only conclude that Edward must have been a grifters wet dream.
To understand the beast, you must first grasp his motive. This was the first lesson taught to me by my mentor, the now chief inspector Richard Gault. A smart man to say the least. But he obviously didn't meet this guy in his efforts for gaining worldly wisdom. Because as far as motive goes, Edward was a 'tard, he had asparagus syndrome (oh wait, that's a vegetable, my bad). Umm.. as... asp...oh god where is that file... oh yeah, Aspergers syndrome. There was also something about a 'smart drug' trial in here as well, hmm...oh well can't seem to find the details. But anyways, he apparently became some spaz on roids. Go figure, can do anything these days with the right pill. To be honest, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been witness to one of the murders.
The sun had hit its celestial mid line and doughnuts were the subject of much thought provoking debate. Glazed or unglazed? Toppings or just cinnamon? And the greatest question to ever grace a policeman's lips, Dunken doughnuts or Dreamy doughnuts? I had gone with the latter on all three accounts. I remember ripping the box open as my foot passed the shops entrance, I wasn't concerned with strangers that passed by. The gruff and social inept perturbed at my lack of respect for oncoming traffic, would digress from moral obedience and in base dialect inform me of my likeness to a farm yard animal. I don't have much time for the diminutive socialite wannabe with a vocabulary consisting of one syllable words. So, I kept walking. There in the corner of my eye, a shimmer, nay, a glimmer? It radiated with regal golden yellow, the light refracted and gave off majestic colors, all the colors of the rainbow. My attention was immediately drawn from doughnuts to shimmering lights in my eye. Geez we cops are fickle creatures. And I bent over, searched for the tool of such radiation and there it was, a gold banded, roman numerical Rolex. Sitting there in all its glory, waiting for someone, no, waiting for me to pick it up. My hand clutched at its band, feeling the dexterity made me cringe at my own fortuitous luck. I turned the watch over and there it was, the calling card of the scum that had seen my heart jump for joy, but now to have it crushed. A clear case-back. Expletives rolled off my tongue like I had been born with such a carnal knowledge and had been cussing since the age of diapers and breast feeding.
I turned around in such disgust, but the chain had already been started. As I leaned back to prop myself up, a bicycle hit me, the rider flew three meters. He then rolled into a hot dog trolley, the umbrella reflexively shut, tearing into the vendors skin. The man jumped in agony hitting a older lady walking her dog, who with the fright let go of the leash. The leash found its way around one of the wheels of the hot dog cart and the dog ran into the middle of the road. As the cars swerved and went through misguided turns, one car eventually failed to continue the luck of missing the dog and hit the yapping Jack Russel with a force to drive the hot dog cart into oncoming traffic. As the cart rolled, a 30 something C-cup in a red dress happened to pass by in front of its trajectory. The pink lipstick and daffodil in her hair is really the only thing I can remember about her. Forced into an oncoming Mercedes Benz, a permanent fixture like the tri-star emblem became her fate. She was the 26th case by my calculation. The 26th murder, by a mad man, a fidgeting, calculating creature.
written by Loki456
FIRST KILL
My thoughts ruminated as I gazed past Lakewood park at the yellow police line. I couldn't help but think that there a man stood. A man like no other. Standing like only few others had before him. His hands rolling with an extra pyramidal predetermination, and his gaze fixed as he stood on the street sidewalk. It would not be a stare that resonated from boredom, but rather a cold, calculating preoccupation with his surroundings. I once heard of this man, 'dumb as door nails and retarded' seemed to be the most used urban vernacular for his description. But now, standing in front of me was not the man harnessing an IQ equivalent to that of a 6yr old. Here stands a wily and cunning individual. Apt in all area's of evidence, a student of facts and probabilities and as far I am concerned, a threat to a media induced, hysterical community.
He was dubbed the 'chain reaction man'. Menacing tabloids flashed on their front covers irrelevant Greek letters circling a giant ghosted question mark. The obvious intention to instill a sense of social distrust in their fellow strangers. Hell, what else are the media good at doing well? And secondly, to of course make my life a bit more complicated than it already was. My name is Detective John Waterford, San Diego PD. And I’m the lucky S.O.B that got to cuff Edward Lorcester, aka 'the chain reaction man'.
I had the fortunate or unfortunate (depending on your take on the situation) chance to encounter this eccentric's handiwork. As I thumbed the evidence bag, silently pondering, I just couldn't believe that he caused so many murders with only a fake Rolex. With over a hundred of these watches accounted for at various 'suspicious' crime scenes over the last decade, one can only conclude that Edward must have been a grifters wet dream.
To understand the beast, you must first grasp his motive. This was the first lesson taught to me by my mentor, the now chief inspector Richard Gault. A smart man to say the least. But he obviously didn't meet this guy in his efforts for gaining worldly wisdom. Because as far as motive goes, Edward was a 'tard, he had asparagus syndrome (oh wait, that's a vegetable, my bad). Umm.. as... asp...oh god where is that file... oh yeah, Aspergers syndrome. There was also something about a 'smart drug' trial in here as well, hmm...oh well can't seem to find the details. But anyways, he apparently became some spaz on roids. Go figure, can do anything these days with the right pill. To be honest, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been witness to one of the murders.
The sun had hit its celestial mid line and doughnuts were the subject of much thought provoking debate. Glazed or unglazed? Toppings or just cinnamon? And the greatest question to ever grace a policeman's lips, Dunken doughnuts or Dreamy doughnuts? I had gone with the latter on all three accounts. I remember ripping the box open as my foot passed the shops entrance, I wasn't concerned with strangers that passed by. The gruff and social inept perturbed at my lack of respect for oncoming traffic, would digress from moral obedience and in base dialect inform me of my likeness to a farm yard animal. I don't have much time for the diminutive socialite wannabe with a vocabulary consisting of one syllable words. So, I kept walking. There in the corner of my eye, a shimmer, nay, a glimmer? It radiated with regal golden yellow, the light refracted and gave off majestic colors, all the colors of the rainbow. My attention was immediately drawn from doughnuts to shimmering lights in my eye. Geez we cops are fickle creatures. And I bent over, searched for the tool of such radiation and there it was, a gold banded, roman numerical Rolex. Sitting there in all its glory, waiting for someone, no, waiting for me to pick it up. My hand clutched at its band, feeling the dexterity made me cringe at my own fortuitous luck. I turned the watch over and there it was, the calling card of the scum that had seen my heart jump for joy, but now to have it crushed. A clear case-back. Expletives rolled off my tongue like I had been born with such a carnal knowledge and had been cussing since the age of diapers and breast feeding.
I turned around in such disgust, but the chain had already been started. As I leaned back to prop myself up, a bicycle hit me, the rider flew three meters. He then rolled into a hot dog trolley, the umbrella reflexively shut, tearing into the vendors skin. The man jumped in agony hitting a older lady walking her dog, who with the fright let go of the leash. The leash found its way around one of the wheels of the hot dog cart and the dog ran into the middle of the road. As the cars swerved and went through misguided turns, one car eventually failed to continue the luck of missing the dog and hit the yapping Jack Russel with a force to drive the hot dog cart into oncoming traffic. As the cart rolled, a 30 something C-cup in a red dress happened to pass by in front of its trajectory. The pink lipstick and daffodil in her hair is really the only thing I can remember about her. Forced into an oncoming Mercedes Benz, a permanent fixture like the tri-star emblem became her fate. She was the 26th case by my calculation. The 26th murder, by a mad man, a fidgeting, calculating creature.