Chapter Text
The Jump Street cops have been undercover for the past week in order to catch the criminal who had been raping, beating and murdering teen male prostitutes who frequented the area.
The murders were especially brutal. Each boy had been found, raped, brutally beaten, stark naked, hog tied and dismembered in some way. One boy had been missing his right index finger, another his ear, another one no longer had his tongue, one was missing his foot and two had been castrated.
The dismemberment had been one of the major aspects that threw the cops for a loop. There was no pattern, or rhyme to them, each was different in more ways than one. Some had occurred antemortem, some postmortem. Another was that all of the boys had been different. Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, tall, short, skinny, muscular. All they had in common were that they were all homeless teenaged prostitutes.
Most of the city had been unaware of the brutal slayings as they were not being reported on by the media, because of who the boys were.
Currently a boy named Aaron who had last been seen getting into a black beamer said to belong to the suspect, has been missing for a week. The night before the cops went undercover. It was unusual to say the least. The bodies of all other known victims have been recovered. Based on the m.o. of the killer, there was little hope that the boy was still alive.
Tom and Judy had successfully infiltrated Aaron's group of friends, posing as down and out homeless teenagers. Fuller pretended to be a part of a volunteer group called Second Home while Doug, Harry and Dennis had the tedious job of posing as streetwalking prostitutes. This was what the squad had been doing for five days straight, spending hours cruising down the streets trying to get sight of the black BMW so they could finally catch the bastard who had been committing these horrible crimes.
Unfortunately no one had a positive ID of the assailant, the only lead anyone had was: a middle aged white man with white hair driving a "bitchin" black BMW. And that car has not been spotted since the night Aaron had got into the car.
Times like these were when Doug questioned if he was truly cut out for the force.
Violent crimes always made his blood boil to no end and he knew that as a police officer he should never get too emotionally invested in a case, more specifically, with the people involved. And more often than not he often found himself caring too much, never feeling satisfied when a case came to a close, knowing where most of these kids would end up in the end.
The real world was no after school special.
The Jump Street program has been around for a year and a half. Judy, Dennis and Harry have been at Jump Street since the very beginning, Doug joined ten months in, Tom twelve months in.
The Jump Street program was originally run by Richard Jenko a very eccentric but caring cop. In the beginning the division was very small, consisting only of the five cops and Jenko. Four months into Doug's time at Jumpstreet, Jenko had been killed by a drunk driver. His death had been so unexpected and a shock to the tight knit group of cops.
Adam Fuller has been their captain for the past two months. He was a hard ass, despite that Doug liked him, he was a good captain, though his opinion was of the minority. Tom and Judy couldn't stand the man, Harry and Dennis were neutral.
The bright lights of a car shine in his face and illuminate the area. Doug immediately rises from the store window he was leaning against. It was the "bitchin black beamer" with tinted windows.
As the car pulls up, he quickly approaches it and leans against the passenger side window. The window slightly cracks, enough to hear the driver speak but not enough to see what he looked like.
Doug expeditiously starts his act. “So you like em young huh?”
A monotonous curt male voice answered back. “How old are ya?”
Doug is smooth. “I’m a baby.”
“Really?” That hadn't been a lie from Doug. He was the baby of the team at only 19 years old and he looked his age.
“Really.”
“You’ll do.”
“You look just like my son.” The comment catches Doug off guard. "What in the actual fuck?" He thinks.
“How much.”
Doug finds himself a little stumped, for some reason not thinking that he'd need to be asked this question. Truthfully Doug never imagined that he'd be the one to catch the one who was being dubbed the "Savage Of Metropolis". “One hundred.” He blurted out after some hesitation, cursing himself after he says the words. One hundred was probably too high.
The man seemed to agree. “That’s a little steep isn’t it?”
Doug quickly comes up with an answer. “I got a lot of mouths to feed.” Yeah himself and his own big appetite.
The door lock clicks. Despite knowing that it was very unwise Doug opens the door and hops in. The inside of the car was pitch black and despite being so near to the driver, he could barely make out what he looked like.
The car drives off into the night. Doug had something to prove, he was the youngest on the team at nineteen. Most of his coworkers had been against him joining the division based on his age. He was eighteen when he graduated from the academy and immediately joined the Jump Street division. He had turned nineteen not too long ago.
Doug was in the same age demographic as the highschoolers the Jump Street team were constantly interacting with undercover and like them he had a similar immaturity. He could be quite reckless and childish at times, something dangerous in his line of work.
He didn't get along that well with his coworkers besides Tom. He and Tom had hit it off pretty well and had become fast friends. They were the closest in age and both had reputations for being reckless at times.
Doug felt as though he was the perfect choice to be sent uncover for a job like this as he was an actual teen. He'd never let his teammates hear this out loud but he didn't think most of his coworkers could pass for teenagers anymore.
Judy was 25, looked 25, and acted it, she never failed to come off as somebody's mother during their undercover assignments. In his mind the woman was too pushy and bossy. He felt as though she was always trying to school him and showcase how smarter she was. It pissed him off. They barely got along but because Judy had a secret crush on Tom, and because he was his best friend she wasn't as ruthless on him as Harry and Dennis.
Harry was pushing 30 and to Doug while he looked a good five years younger, he acted his age and didn't look high school age at all. The two rarely got along, mostly thanks to their large age difference. Harry thought the boy had no business on the squad at his young age and he wasn't afraid to say it to his face.
25 year old Dennis came off like a greaser, hated Tom, had a crush on Judy, disliked Doug and at the most could pass for 22.
Tom was scrawny and boyish enough that he looked the part.
If Doug could catch a serial killer all by himself and rid the streets of a very dangerous man who was preying upon teenagers, his coworkers would have no choice but to respect him and to stop looking down upon him. He'd probably be promoted or honored.
After driving for quite some time they pull up to a very secluded house located in the outskirts of the city.
Doug felt anxiety building in his gut at this, he never expected the man to take him to such a secluded and far out location. When the man shuts the engine off Doug starts to question his decision not to tell anyone where he was going.
They step out of the car and Doug can finally get a good look at the man.
The man looked differently than Doug had envisioned him. He was very clean cut, dressed in a grey trench coat, black slacks and suede shoes. Judging by his appearance and clothes, the man must of have been well off and it led Doug to the conclusion that he probably didn't live here.
The house was a rundown small, brown brick one story home.
He opens the door, ushers Doug into the home, turns the light on, and leads him to the open living room that seemed like it was being used as a bedroom. The average sized room contained a bed and in an enclosed area in the back of the room, a sink and bathroom.
Doug intently stares at the significantly older man, he was middle aged, looked no older than 50 and had short cropped white hair.
Doug had a false sense of security, with his build compared to the other man and most boys his age, he didn’t think the man could do anything to him.
The older man grins in appreciation as he can finally get a better look of Doug under bright lights. “You look just like my son.” The man oddly says again.
Doug can barely hide the discomfort that worms itself on his face at these words once again. This guy was somehow sicker than he thought.
“Turn around.” The man takes off his jacket. “Let’s have a look at you.” He states in a weird admiring tone.
“I don’t turn my back on nobody.” He couldn’t blow this case, it was a very important case. More importantly, if he fucked this up now it was his ass on the line, no one elses and he highly doubted anyone would be on his side if he did, not even Tom.
“Well you’re on my time now.” The man arrogantly responds. “The going rate okay?”
The man walks to the bathroom area and pulls a towel off of the rack, walks over to the bed, unfolds it and lays it down.
“Being?” Doug couldn't shake this feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach.
“75 a shot."
Doug nods his head.
The man walks away from the bed and so does Doug turning his back on the man and going towards the window, stopping at it and looking out at the scenery. This room smelled completely clean, and looked it as did the surrounding area. The bed looked clean.
Have they got the wrong man? The cops had no real leads, the victims bodies being dropped off to another location away from where the slayings took place.
Jump street would typically never get the case of a serial killer, a case like this was typically given to major crimes. But because of the age of the victims, and the fact that no other division really cared because of who the victims were, getting the division known for specifically dealing with teens was great PR for the Metropolis law enforcement.
The man goes back to the bathroom, eyes on Doug’s unsuspecting form. He pulls out a long black baton he has hidden.
The next thing Doug feels is excruciating pain shooting through the back of his head and he feels himself falling forward, his face landing onto the red carpet.
The man starts wailing on him with the weapon, his hands and fists. The sentence "I’m a cop" for some reason wouldn’t leave his mouth. He couldn't get a word out, he was truly petrified. Deep down he was worried that if the man found out who he truly was, it would be the end of him.
~*~*~*~
Handcuffed and gagged the young officer lay violated, battered and stark naked on the floor after the man finally lets up and gets off of him.
The man had discarded Doug's clothing to the other side of the room long ago, but after he gets up, his eyes land on the officers jeans and something that had caught his attention when he first took the boy's clothes off, but he ultimately had thought nothing of it. There had been something in his back pocket, most likely a wallet. And that was why it had caught his attention.
It was unusual for one of these boys to have a wallet on them and if they did, it either wasn't theirs or the information was fake. One of the kid's ID claimed they were Ace Frehley.
He grabs the wallet and flips it open. What he sees makes his heart stop.
Douglas Penhall, Police Officer, badge number: xxx and his shield was located on the other side.
“A cop?!” He screeches. “Goddamn it!” He kicks the nearest object, the leg of the bed frame.
"You're a cop?!!" The man just couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it.
"What am I going to do, what the hell am I going to do?"
He was screwed, he was so undeniably screwed. The police were onto him and they'd undoubtedly be looking for this cop if they weren't already and when they found him, they undoubtedly do anything in their power to nail his ass to the wall.
If he kept the boy alive and ran right now, he was screwed, if he killed him he was even more screwed. The death penalty would be sought. He was damned regardless.
A broken Doug could only think one thing as he lay immobile on the floor: Maybe if he had identified himself sooner none of this would have happened.