Chapter Text
"What's the news saying?" Tommy asked, mouth stuffed with toast. He swallowed and wiped the crumbs off his chin, "Anything we need to know about?"
Tubbo threw the newspaper across the coffee table. The first page's headline was the same as it had been on the 4th of every month. "STEREOSCOPY STRIKES AGAIN!" Tubbo glared at the newspaper while Tommy slid it towards himself, eyeing the mutilated body on the front.
"There's been another fucking killing." Tubbo declared.
"Fuck! And we were out last night!" Tommy shouted as he slammed it against the table, that was decaying from age. The table legs shook from the sheer force and Tubbo's coffee spilt. They both stared at the puddle.
"Are you going to clean that up?"
"No? Are you?"
"I think a bit of darker brown would add some contrast to the table. Also, I wasn't the one who split it." Tubbo snarked as he drank what remained in his mug. Tommy rolled his eyes.
"Of course that's only important when I spill things." he moaned, moving to grab the roll of toilet paper they kept on the kitchen counter. "OooOOOoooh, I'm Tubbo and I never clean up the mess I make because milk stains suit our homeless aesthetic," he mocked in a higher pitched voice.
Tubbo raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were going to start mimicking my voice perfectly. "
"Shut the fuck up Tubbo. I'll do what I want."
There was no arguing against that. Tubbo bit back his unneeded comment and picked up both their plates. Tommy hadn't finished his toast. Tubbo took a bite. It was burnt to the crisp. He threw it out of their window for the birds. He left them in the washing up bowl and walked around the kitchen to grab a baby wipe and pass it over to Tommy so he could wipe up the mess.
"You know it isn't your fault right? We couldn't find him so we couldn't stop him. You can't save someone you can't find." Tubbo reminded Tommy, looking away from him as he finished the sentence. Tommy sighed deeply and shuffled so he was facing Tubbo.
"We both couldn't save him." Tommy corrected, grabbing his best friend's hands. Tubbo squeezed back ,impossibly tighter.
"I could have changed something. Instead I did nothing."
"We both did noth-"
"It's different for you. You know it."
"Oh is it?" Tommy asked. He gently pulled his hands out from Tubbo’s deathgrip, laughing as Tubbo groaned his complaints. Tommy glided his hands across the table, cleaning the spillage as if it had never been there. "Like how I have to mop up the coffee everytime it spills? Regardless of whose it was!"
"I don't spill things!" Tubbo argued back, moving next to Tommy to tie the bread bag to stop the mould spreading quicker and screwing up the jam jars. He shoved the jam into the fridge, alongside the bread.
"I'm Tubbo. I can change the laws of physics so I never spill things." Tommy mocked in the same high pitched voice. Tubbo stopped tidying to jab him in his side. Tommy gasped. Tubbo laughed
"I warned you to stop using a preteen girl voice for me! I'll do so much worse next time!"
"You jabbed me!" Tommy screeched " What worse can you do? Will you make me trip over my shoelaces? Oh heaven forbid it!" Tommy raised the palm of his hand to his forehead and leant back like a damsel in distress.
"I'll stop making you breakfast." That made Tommy stop.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh but Tommy! I would! I'd be on the lookout for anything going, wrong, today as well." Tubbo winked as he shut the fridge "And don't even try and steal the peach jam. I will know." and with that, Tubbo left the kitchen. His shift officially started in forty five minutes and with bus tickets costing much more than what 'their late parents had left for the two', walking was the only way. Tubbo of course, had taken this fact as a good thing, using to help the 'walk bus' or what ever the fuck the volunteers said Tubbo did. He walked nearby kids without cars to school. It was like a bus you see, you follow the same route and it’s not practical at all, except you walk. The walk bus always came obnoxiously early which meant Tommy got fifthteen minutes less lie in time.
Tommy had a far better job than a teacher's assistant. Primarily because Tommy's job was walking dogs for their elderly and disabled neighbours. It meant he could sit on the leather sofa that was beginning to fall apart and bury himself between blankets. He pulled off his white hoodie with red hood and sleeves. Black and white wings uncurled from the magpie’s back and curled around Tommy like a protective barrier. He curled into the make-do nest. There were still two more hours and with the sun on his back, with himself and his echo safe and fed, he chirped out a small song. Tubbo, a member of his charm, laughed. "Sleep well Tommy!" he called as the door slammed shut.
Tommy didn't like sleeping after he woke up but he only had to walk Fran at lunch that day, unless someone called throughout the day. His phone alarm was set and Tommy was already ready for the day. Was there really anything wrong with a two hour nap? No. Especially not if Tommy wanted to patrol that night.
"Tubbo." Aimsey said as Tubbo walked into the Year Two classroom. Her voice echoed across the whole room making every kid freeze and turn to their teaching assistant. Michael hurried over and grabbed his hand as if he was trying to assure him everything would be alright. Miss TV was scary to six years old it seemed. With a fond smile, Tubbo assured Michael he’d be okay; he watched as Michael let go and ran off to play with the other kids.
"Tubbo! Mr Innit!" Aimsey yelled again.
"I'm coming I'm coming, " Tubbo said as he stepped around the children playing on the mats. "What's so important you couldn't have sent me an email? If you needed me to cover for you just say so. I know I'm not legally allowed to-"
"Do you need another box of hair dye? Seeing as it probably isn't you know, smart for you to be out right now."
Tubbo's heart stopped. He tried to not take shallow breaths. He had to be a good role model for these kids, even if it meant shoving his skeletons all the way back to Narnia. He had to be calm, collected and not break several laws by simply walking around. He brushed his hand through his hair, "What are you talking about?"
Aimsey crossed her arms. "Y'know. Your documents. "
"What about my document, you said they were fine?!" Tubbo wanted to shout. Shroud was already inching closer with the pressure of the rest of the kids whispering about what was gone. In that moment, Tubbo hated how attentive kids can be. He couldn't shout, couldn't be a bad role model, couldn't let kids run their blabbering mouths to their concerned parents, "Miss Tv can we have this discussion when children aren't here?" his voice dropped to a whisper. "Please?"
"Only because class starts in five minutes. I better see you helping everyone with maths problems, you've got that." Aimsey ordered her students. The students nodded. Tubbo nodded because he couldn’t take Aimsey TV in a fight, he wouldn't survive the mental toll. He couldn't handle having to rob from more people and helping Aimsey teach five to six year olds paid too well for him to risk losing his job. He slunk to the back of the wall. Michael wandered up to him and offered him his stuffed toy chicken. (Technically it was from the blue and red trunk filled with toys but Michael loved it. Everyone let him have it)
"To help you deal with Miss Tv!"
Tubbo laughed and ruffled Michaels hair, "She's really scary right?"
"She doesn't like it when I talk over her. Did you do that? It sounded like you two were talking over each other."
"She's annoyed I didn't tell her something I should have. That's why honesty is important in relationships, okay?" Michael's face screwed up at the mention of relationships.
Michael scrunched his eyes, "Eww, I'm going to lie so I never have to kiss a girl!"
That was the spirit. Tubbo ducked down to whisper to Michael, "Want to go water your potato so it doesn't die. Then you'll get the biggest potato." Michael nodded and hurried into the side garden. Tubbo trailed behind him, sticking behind kids to avoid Aimsey catching onto what he was doing.
Outside was darker than the inside. The neon pink ribbons couldn't be stapled to bricks, saving Tubbo's eyes from burning out from their sockets. The potato garden was Tubbo's favourite part of his job. They were all dying because Aimsey insisted it was all about learning impermanence and death early. Even Michael's, though never would admit it, was beginning to wilt and the roots begging to stretch further than the plastic bottle.
Tubbo picked up the full watercan with ease and poured it over his potato until Michael asked him to stop. He tipped it closer, threatening to drown the plant. He pulled it back up and smiled when Michael started begging him to stop, a toothy grin on his face.
The door slid open. "There you are. Michael gets inside and asks Yoghourt to help you catch up. Mr Innit we are going to have a talk." Aimsey said as she stepped into the courtyard. Michael hurried inside. She held her hand up, stopping Tubbo from following him.
"We are going to have a private conversation. About your hair."
Tubbo raked his fingers through his hair, it was knotty from where he’d forgotten to brush it. "I thought you told me to grow it out. Between that and the contact lenses, we figured no one would realise unless they looked closely. Everyone's looking for a dumb kid with glasses and brown hair. Not an adult with twenty twenty vision who's white hair is growing out his brown hair dye-"
Aimsey pinched her nose, "Schlatt saw you. He recognised you. You need to get a nose job to change how bad you've fucked this one up."
"I can just, y'know." Tubbo did jazz hands, "Change the universe my problems away."
"We both know you can't change the past and everyone thinks you have a minor luck enhancement, remember."
"Shit. I forgot about that,"
"I know you did." Aimsey patted Tubbo on the back, "Go home, dye your hair, book plastic surgery. Tell Tommy whatever. But the afterschool rush-"
"Isn't the smartest time to show your face. I've got it." Tubbo walked around the back of the block to avoid helping year two's with their four times tables. "And Aimsey. This warning. It means a lot boss man."
Aimsey laughed, "I know it does. Thank me when I save your ass."
"Sam," Tommy said on the phone. "Sam I won't be able to walk Fran today."
"Tommy, is everything okay? You know if you need me I can come around and help, do you guys need food?" Tommy looked over to where Tubbo was desperately browsing amazon on their shitty pc. "
"I'm fine Sam. You know what it's like, being a big man and all that shit." Tommy bit his nails . He eyed Tubbo and shook his head. They weren't out of the woods yet. They'd never be out of the woods but they could get the fuck out of the middle of it.
"Is it to do with Tubbo? You know I only want to help you guys." There was a flyer on the table. It was torn and crumpled by the power of the wind. Tubbo had torn it off a nail on his way home from the school. Tubbo's face looked up at him, one of the pictures was a boy Tommy hadn't seen since he was fourteen, all smiles, hair naturally brown and Tubbo still had those ridiculous round glasses that made him look like a dork. The second photo was Tommy's roommate. His white roots were full on show, the glasses replaced with contact lenses, the young adult who had a job was nothing like the child everyone thought they'd found. The bold lettering of Tubbo's name and power made it just as ironic. Tubbo Schlatt wasn't missing. Tubbo Schlatt was dead.
In the kids' place was Tubbo Innit who had a small luck power.
"I know you do, Sam." Tommy said, aware of how he'd been silent for too long. "That's the problem."
Tubbo walked up behind the sofa, "Hi Sam!" he chirped down the line "Tommy's being dramatic. I just have a little cold and can't go to work. He's clingy enough to think he has to care for me! Can you believe it Sam! I think he's going to kill me! Death by too many pillows in my face!"
Tubbo didn't sound sick but the phone crackle would change that. It was impossible to sound healthy or not possessed down the dial phone. "He'll be with you in a minute, won't you Tommy?"
"But Tubbo-"
"Go walk Fran." And Tubbo pulled the phone out of Tommy's hand and hung up. Sam's voice crackled but neither of them managed to hear what he said
"What did you do that for!" Tommy shouted. Tubbo placed the red cable phone back on the table and ripped up the missing poster.
"They're looking for a kid with white hair? Then I think we spice my hair up a bit."
"Tubbo what did you do?"
Tubbo grinned with all his teeth, "You'll see when you come back from your dog walk."
The undeniable truth was that Tommy loved walking Fran. The labrador bounded along and chased after balls with a ferocity that Tommy didn't think anyone else possessed. She ran in the grass and lost her final tennis ball of the day. Fran didn't mind, instead having taken to eating the overgrown grass. It would be to make the hay bales soon. Until then, it was Tommy, Fran and sitting in the same place they always landed in. The grass had long since flattened, creating a pixie circle around the two.
"I don't trust Tubbo, Fran," Tommy admitted as he stroked her ears. Fran looked up at Tommy with her wide eyes. She licked his arm. Tommy giggled and pulled his arm away. When Fran went back to eating grass, Tommy returned to scratching between her ear and her neck. "I don't think he takes his identity as seriously as I do. At this point I'd have moved to France. Bounjour, I'm sure we'd learn French. I mean, what can't I do? I could learn French!" Fran did not respond. Tommy rested his head on top of Frans, "You're so good y'know. You're my favourite dog Fran." He cupped her nose gently, "But you can't tell Mr Halo that. He'll get all defensive of Rat. Like who names their fucking dog that?"
Tommy's phone pinged. He opened it to see Tubbo had attached an image.
Tubbo had dyed his hair bright. Fucking. Pink.
"God," Tommy whispered into Fran's ears, "And I thought Sam's green hair looked like shit."
The hero council was made up of assholes. Phil would run for his money to find someone who disagreed with him on this, besides the public who didn’t know better. He drummed his fingers against the desk and zoned out of the conversation. He couldn’t bring himself to care about what they were worrying about this time. Probably tax rates, taxes, something heroes demanded for their own financial gain that had finally come back to bite them in the ass. Who could have guessed that’d happen? The meetings with the agency weren't always like this but that didn’t mean they were ever enjoyable; they normally had a little less shouting though.
Normally half the members of the committee weren't out on a raid. Normally a big fight had happened which required a plan of action. Nothing unsettling had happened over the past two weeks. Two weeks and they were on their second meeting. Phil could feel his heavy eyes wanting to close. It wasn't as if he'd miss any vital information if he chose to doze off once in a while.
"Philza!" Dream said calmly. The hero's voice shook the room. Everyone craned their necks to look at him. Phil blearily picked his head up and looked at Dream. He blinked twice for his vision to come into focus. "Philza! Did you even listen to a word I said?" Dream asked. He leant down so his head nearly touched Phil's green and white striped bucket hut. He wouldn't get any closer. Skin on skin contact was never pleasant for those with mental powers like Dream.
"I was." Phil bullshitted, "You were complaining about how less civilians were paying tax. Maybe we should hire some criminals to get our bigger paychecks? That's what heroes do right, mate?" Phil asked, eyebrows raised and voice a little too cocky for a medium level hero to speak with.
Dream backed away, eyes narrowed. "Would you happen to know what the reason for our tax being lowered is?"
Holy shit. Phil was actually right? God, he thought he'd get a slap for being mouthy. Not, the restraint Dream showed because he was right!
"I would not." Phil admitted. He didn't duck his head down. His wings flared. Behind his closed mouth, his teeth gritted.
"Then I think you should know. After all, as a hero who works hard for your paycheque. You must hate vigilantes. You're going after Honeybee and Mimicry. You have two months or else." Dream stated, his finger inches away from Phil's forehead. He's bluffing, he's bluffing spun round in Phil's mind.
"Who are they?"
The whole room laughed. George spoke over it all, "They're two vigilantes in the, less than savoury parts of the town. We need to get rid of them or else the lower parts will rely on them over us. You'll get everything we know about them in the file. Your partner has it,"
"I have a partner?" Phil asked. His black wings helped him camouflage in the night and his brittle bones meant he could land on smaller, thinner objects where he couldn’t be seen. Vert few heroes worked well with that sort of stealth.
"You can't put Phil with him. Their styles are completely different!" Sapnap yelled, "You're setting them up for failure!"
Dream turned to Sapnap, "If they really cared for their jobs, they'd find a way to make it work."
"Who? Am? I working with?"
"Technoblade."
And Phil's heart plummeted.
Techno was inches away from punching his doctors in the nose. They had said again, "Oh we need you to walk up and down this corridor, never mind how we all know you walked here on your own." It was a little ridiculous. Only slightly ridiculous. What made it worse was that the corridor wasn't even long enough for Techno to break into a full sprint. The doctors said it wouldn't matter; he shouldn't be going faster than a light jog. It was for his health.
For the health of everyone around Techno, he needed to be able to do his job without destroying himself inside out.
His doctor told him,again, that ignoring your aids does in fact, not make your disability better! They ordered him to continue to wear the splint. You know, the same splint that led to a villain jumping on him because he hadn't been able to take it off his damned shoe and now his whole sense of mobility was screwed. Yeah, that splint.
"I'm not wearing it." Techno told his doctors for the second time. "It screws with my job."
Ponk looked down from her clipboard, "Techno. Your drop foot screws with your job."
"So does my myopathy. I don't see you complaining about that."
"You do all your exercises for myopathy. You don't even wear the splint around the house. I’m not asking you for much. Come on, one more month,"
"Ponk have you ever actually wore this?"
Ponk shook her head, "I've never had drop foot, and we do know they work. Don't try arguing with me."
"No no. You see, it's just a pain to put on every day." It took ten minutes and Techno had to do it every time he left the house. His carpets were sparkly clean and he wanted to keep them that way. Sure, his cat, Steve, got hair everywhere but that was nothing in comparison to trekking in with night’s worth of mud. "And after a night shift? I just want to sleep."
Ponk made another note on their clipboard, "Do you often struggle to sleep?"
"I thought we were here to talk about my nerves and muscles. Not my sleeping patterns."
Ponk lowered their gaze, "I'm your doctor. I'm specialised to work with heroes and if your myopathy wasn't congenital I would have healed it. I want what's best for you and your job. That means seeing if I have to refer you to a psychiatrist."
"I'm fine." Techno deadpanned, "Is there anything else you need me for? I missed a meeting and I need to talk to Dream and catch up on what I missed."
Ponk drew her face into a straight line, "Try the elastic. You don't have to wear it on patrol but if you're going on a trip out? I don’t want to hear you've completely neglected it."
Techno gave a small smile, "I'll try." And he would this time.
Then, he stepped out into the sterile walls of the hospital. The dash of colour on Ponk's pain chart really made a world of a difference. He knew the path of the hospital like the back of his hand. Techno didn't have to look where he was going until he had a mouth full of feathers.
The hero Philza pulled back, taking the inky black fluff with him. "Oh I'm so sorry."
Techno hummed as he continued on his way. It wasn't until Philza noticed his pink braid that he called out, "Technoblade! You're who I was looking for. Apparently we're partners on a vigilante case."
"Well," Techno said, "We should probably go and uh, work on that case unless you need the hospital."
"I don't mate. I was waiting for you."
"Okay then, let's head out then."
"Do we need to pick up any medicine for you?"
"I have weaker muscles than most Philza, not the flu or chronic pain."
"Ah okay. I'll remember that when we're working together." Phil gave a reassuring smile. Techno wanted to punch it right off.
Techno liked tea. He made himself at home in Phil's kitchen. While Phil pored over the papers, Techno took down two mugs and opened the cupboard. He asked Phil what kind of tea he liked. They both liked earl grey. Techno said he liked the taste. Phil mentioned how it calmed his anxiety. Techno hummed in agreement and brought down a second box of tea bags. Phil didn't ask what they were. There was a far bigger issue at hand which was the vigilantes he'd have to deal with since Phil worked best with a partner who could actually, do a sneak attack.
A mug was placed in front of Phil, "You don't mind peppermint tea do you? It's that the smell helps with stress and I know how annoying, some vigilantes can be." Phil bit his tongue.
"I don't mind peppermint. I wouldn't have it in my cupboard if I didn’t. Do you want me to catch you up or will you read it once I'm done?"
Techno laid his palm out, "Pass it over. I'll try to read as quickly as possible, save you some time." Phil passed the file to him. Techno looked down at the page number, 10, and flipped back to the beginning.
Techno read the entire introduction in pages, including the pages every hero was briefed on before they could get licensed. It went over the basics such as the scenario’s where killing was allowed (only if it was to protect an innocent or a larger number of people.) or what do you do if the case escalates (Call Dream, he'll send backup. Probably... He could also just leave Phil and Techno to die.) They were things Techno was supposed to know, trying not to waste Phil's time.
"That's weird," Techno commented.
"What is mate?" Phil asked.
Techno pointed to a singular line Phil had skipped over 'Any procedure may be used to prevent capture of Honeybee and Mimicry. We need them dead or captured." "That isn't standard procedure for vigilantes.“ Phil shuffled closer and leant over the table,
"No..." he said, "That's illegal unless they’ve committed a far greater crime than we're aware of."
"I'm going to read over the rest of the page again. The if there's no explanation in the file, we call Dream”
"We don't call Dream." Phil scoffed, "We march right back to the hero agency and demand answers. That green bitch can't just give us this and a pat on the back for good fucking luck!"
Techno drew his lips into a thin line, "He won't be happy about that."
"And he's breaking the law! Fuck all what Dream thinks!" Phil said, "I don't know half the information about these two! If we've been tasked with handing them their asses, I need to know everything I can about them!"
Techno hummed, "We should get what we can out of this before you storm back to Dream. Pretty sure most of these reports are crimes they’ve stopped or been linked to. The answer might be there. You know there are some vigilantes who are just as bad as the villains we can kill on sight."
Phil slouched, "Yeah okay. Do you want to get started?"
"Phil, we have started."
"I mean get to the meat of this file. It's no small feat."
"Let me finish reading the guidelines first. I thought you agreed with me on that. There's something fishy here and because I wasn't in the meeting and you've been no help, I have to catch up on everything about this case." Techno nearly growled before he shut his mouth
Phil didn't say anything. Phil didn't say anything for the rest of the afternoon.
They did have to go to Dream as it turned out. Techno had his foot elastic quiet walking thingy on and Phil had his wings pressed up behind his cloak. For two heroes, they went relatively unnoticed. No one had noticed Techno and only a fellow avian had approached Phil with a chirp. Phil had chirped back. The stranger had looked offended by whatever Phil had said. They kept moving.
They lost two minutes of time, when Phil helped a man with curly brown hair retrieve his hat which was blowing in the wind.
"I could have got it myself." The guy murmured.
Phil smiled, "Well, it looked like you were struggling."
As they walked closer further from the guy, Phil murmured, "What a bitch," under his breath. Techno laughed.
"Man really shouldn’t have let his hat blow away like that."
"Fuck his hat!" Phil shouted before he slammed his mouth shut. People were staring at the two.
They sped walked the rest of the way to the hero agency. Both hadn't opened their mouth until they were in the white lifts taking them up to the Dream Teams floor.
"Dream! Phil said as he placed the file on the desk, "I'm sorry for interrupting your work but Techno noticed we're allowed to capture the vigilantes by any means possible. That would include death and we don't understand why."
Under the mask Dream smiled. "You'll figure it out."
The police office only had off brand decaf coffee in order to 'prevent addiction and promote healthy lifestyles' as all police should do. Wilbur had originally been all for this change but as he drank the decaf coffee at the start of his 10pm shift, Wilbur was beginning to regret not holding a protest to bring back caffeine. His addiction could keep going if he didn’t have to deal with a headache in his attempt to wean off it. He stumbled past Jack, the receptionist, who laughed at Wilbur's misery and suffering.
"You want me to replace that with the real shit?" Jack asked, hand extended for the cup. , "I promise you, Everyone here gets it from me. Ask Niki."
Wilbur didn't put up much of a fight. In fact, he put up no fight at all.
"I should probably give you a warning," Jack said. Wilbur let Jack take the plastic cup and waited by the desk. Wilbur tapped his foot and folded his arms. Jack popped his head from under the desk and gave the cup back to Wilbur. The detective instantly downed the whole thing.
"It’s-" Jack said.
Wilbur spat the coffee out of his mouth. He aimed for the cup but part of it naturally missed, dribbling down his shirt and shoes. Parts that should have been caught by the cup bounded off and landed on Jack's white desk. Jack stared down at the splodges.
Jack finished, "It's cold."
Wilbur lifted the cup in the air, "I figured that one out Mr Manifold."
"Okay, okay man. I just figured you'd uh, well you were meant to wait until i finished warning you before downing the whole thing. I mean, it was kind of your fault, I've been rationing that shit since my shift started."
"Your shift starts at three pm..."
Jack stared at Wilbur. Wilbur stared at Jack. Neither of them said anything. Wilbur could already feel his head pounding. He took the freezing cup, steeled himself and took his first sip. Jack's face crinkled, "Bring your own next time. I don't want you to suffer like-" the cup was slammed against the desk. Jack’s shoulder shook and he stared at the crumped plastc cup.
"What do I do with that?" he asked.
Wilbur shrugged off his trench coat, "You throw it in the bin. I'm going to go find Niki!" He winked and slammed the doors to the offices open, leaving Jack staring at the cold coffee cup.
Niki gave a small smile as Wilbur walked in, "Are you ready to start working on the case?" she asked, pulling out the ring binder from the drawers and onto the desk. "All the information we gathered last night and this morning has been added into here. Apparently there's nothing you can add to it but-" the binder flicked open to the most recent victim. Wilbur smirked. Niki lowered her stare. "you always have something to add."
Wilbur hummed, "You know you don't become an esteemed detective for not asking all the wrong questions. So, Niki can you run our victim so we can identify him, get his details."
"Wilbur... have you looked at who we're dealing with?"
"I know we're working with Mr Smallishbeans. Did police procedures change for celebrities in one week? Come on Niki, I'm not a stan, I don't know enough details about his life to figure out why our Stereoscopy might be out for his blood."
Niki folded her arms, "Considering what he's been like so far, I wouldn't guess he personally went after Smallishbeans. I'd guess they saw someone come down the alleyway and killed him before he could realise. They've never gone after celebrities before."
"Okay Niki, I need you to imagine something for me." Wilbur said as he pushed the huge file towards her. "Imagine your stereoscopy for a minute. You attack once a month, normally at night but not the same alley because that's just asking to be caught. Why do you wait so long?"
"So I wouldn't be caught?"
"Okay but surely the police could just make sure every alley is watched on the day you strike, so why not be sporadic? Why not kill more often. Why do you need the month to not be caught."
"Oh." Niki whispered, "They plan the killings. So catching Joel in the alleyway couldn't have been a mistake. They must have known he was going to go down it. So if we can figure out why someone would want a famous architect with nothing bad to his name dead, we could figure out why they might be killing everyone. How did we not figure that out before?"
"Especially!" Wilbur announced, "If any of the information adds up with his past killings." ignoring the question as to why he had withheld the information about the case for the five months he’d been on the case.
"I'm on it. A motive would make this whole case a lot easier."
The computer got pushed towards Niki. She side eyed Wilbur but didn't say anything as he pressed the keys. She sighed as she was logged into Wilbur's account. "I know your password now." She commented, already opening up the police database and searching up Joel Beans.
Wilbur chuckled, "I'm not dumb enough to use the same password anywhere. Now budge up. I want to see this as well.
"Of course you do."
"And who is the actual detective here?"
"I'm your intern of like six months Wil. I think I'm pretty skilled enough to find someones files." She pulled up the profile and began to read through it. They scrolled mindlessly through needless, already detailed information. When they got to criminal records Wilbur put his hand up on the screen, "Stop for a second Niki. Scroll up a bit I think I might have just seen something which would have otherwise been skipped over."
Niki scrolled up until Wilbur yelled at her to stop. "See criminal record."
Niki stopped to read the first line. She moved away from the keyboard. Joel Beans had been arrested for animal slaughter two weeks ago. He had swept it under the rug by paying the bail before they could even get him in a jail cell. Niki wouldn't be surprised if he had paid off reporters to not share the thrilling gossip of established leather farmers killing horses in cruel, inhumane ways for the fun of it, "So, that could be a motive. Our serial killer doesn't seem like he cares a lot about life considering how he, you know. Kills people."
"Killing animals and killing people are different for some people. After all, aren't animals pure?" He picked up the pen and scribbled on a scrap piece of paper 'possible motives: killing animals?" "Can you run through Stereoscopy’s other victims? I think we might be onto something here."
"Will do."