Chapter Text
Frank tips back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the table, twirling a wooden stake between his fingers. He puts his dirty Chucks right in the middle of Mikey’s stack of papers, so Mikey grabs his ankle and pushes it off, causing Frank to hurriedly slam his feet flat on the floor so as not to tip over backwards.
“Asshole,” Frank says.
“You’re the asshole,” Mikey replies, and pushes his glasses up with a finger, eyes glued to his laptop. Frank fishes a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans, and lights one for himself before holding a second out to Mikey as a peace offering. Mikey accepts, and they smoke in silence for a few minutes, the only sound between them being the clicking of Mikey’s fingers on the keyboard.
“Hey,” Mikey says after a while. “I think I got something.”
Frank stubs his cigarette out on the table like an asshole and scoots his chair over to Mikey, hunching forward to peer at the bluish light of the screen. Mikey watches Frank’s eyes flick back and forth as he reads the article, and after a minute, he sits back in his chair and stretches his arms over his head.
“Looks like something to me.”
Mikey blinks slowly. “I’ll call Ray and Gee and tell them to fill up the tank on the way back.”
Frank lights a second cigarette. “Tell Gerard to bring back a can of Pringles while they’re at it.”
--
“How many you thinkin’?” Ray asks, sitting down on the bed and pulling his boots off.
Mikey shrugs. “Probably just one.” Nests are usually out in less populated areas, where there’s less risk of being found. When stuff’s happening in an urban area, nine times out of ten it’s a loner trying to sneak by under the radar-- and it usually works pretty well for them, until they get greedy and start taking more than they need. And they always, always get greedy eventually.
“Alright,” Ray says. “Sounds like this should be a pretty easy job, then.”
Gerard speaks up from where’s he’s curled up with a notebook in the corner chair, his lank black hair falling in his eyes. “No job is ever as easy as we think it’ll be,” he grunts.
Frank throws a Pringle at him. “Shut up, you’re so dramatic. We always turn out fine.”
“I’m not being dramatic!” Gerard says dramatically, sitting up straight and pointing an indignant finger at Frank. “Or did you forget about how you ended up with three broken ribs in Chicago?”
Frank waves him off. “Oh, c'mon, that was nothing. I’m indestructible, man. Unkillable.”
“First time for everything,” Gerard says darkly. Frank rolls his eyes and shoves another handful of chips in his mouth.
--
Mikey manages to hack into the local P.D.’s database on the first day they roll into town, because that kid is a goddamn wizard with a laptop and they'd be totally lost without him. Gerard peers over his shoulder as Mikey flicks through various files, opening and closing some so quickly that Gerard can’t believe he’s even reading them at all, all the while bitching about how shitty the internet is at this motel.
Then Mikey finally finds what he’s looking for, and a photo flashes up on the screen-- Gerard thinks it’s a little sick how the autopsy pictures don’t even phase him that badly anymore. By now, he’s seen things far worse in person.
The girl’s face is blank, her filmy eyes staring at nothing. The black stitching across her chest is hard to pick out against the tattoos covering her torso. If it wasn’t for the sickly whiteness of her eyes, she might almost look peaceful, like she was meditating or something-- but the illusion is shattered by the jagged, ugly gash across her throat, sutured up by the coroner but still unmistakably horrific.
“Sarah Wozniak,” Mikey says. “She was twenty-three. The cops found her body in an alleyway on top of a pile of garbage bags. Couple bruises but no major injuries, except for, you know, her entire neck area.” He coughs slightly, then continues, “C.O.D. was-- surprise-- blood loss.”
Gerard clears his throat. “And the others?”
“Gimme a second.” Mikey taps away on his computer before saying, “Yeah, there’s six of them altogether in the past month or so. Four chicks, two dudes. All found in this neighborhood. All with their throats ripped out.”
Gerard rubs his eyes. “Let’s hope we can get our shit together before it’s seven.”