003 – Ulmec Skull Suckers

Iterative update 1.4

"...Ulmec Skull Suckers. They sliced off the top of the skull, and then slurped the blood out of the brain vessels while the heart was still beating and a high priestess was going down on .. . Oh Shit, Good evening, Detective" said a police officer, just noting Brad's arrival.

The police officer’s partner stationed at the door didn't even flinch but Brad could see the woman stifling a smile in her eyes.

"Detective, the crime scene is ready for your inspection. Detectives Jambun and Scinlin are waiting for you just inside."

Brad recognized the names and frowned, "What's Intellectual Property Vice doing here? I'm H2.” H2 was an acronym for H squared or human homicide. Brad noted the first officers name tag, Stillson, as he approached.

"Detective, IP Vice was called initially when the crime scene was first identified. The victim was not initially found and this appeared to be an IP Vice crime. All the video equipment and the dismembered penises. . . ." Officer Stillson trailed off as he seemed to turn a little green while remembering the scene.

"Penes," Rubenz said, stating the plural of the word penis, correctly with the hard 'e' sound following the ‘n’ where the ‘I’ in penis normally was.

Brad had been ridiculed by a teacher in middle school for using the word penises to insult a group of 8th graders. The teacher hoping to set an example had schooled Brad on the correct plural pronunciation of penis, ergo penes for 30 minutes and it was one of those nasty childhood memories that he couldn't quite shake even in middle age when it made him half-chuckle to recall it.

"Say what?" said Officer Stillson.

"The plural of penis is penes, spelled p-e-n-e-s" said Rubenz, "But never mind you were saying?"

"I made the initial call Detective." stated Officer Hernandez, the female officer whose eyes still had that look of an inner joke. "This looked like another illegal Whack Off Video Production. Then we found the victim."

The door opened, and Detective Jambun, an unnaturally bald man in his mid thirties, who for some reason had not undergone gene therapy yet to fix the condition, looked out at Brad, and said, "Fuck! What took you so fucking long. We've got work to do and didn't need to waste our fucking time mopping up your shit. Come on Scinlin. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Just a minute Detective, tell me what you have found here. I'm not accepting this crime scene until you get me up to speed and debrief." Brad said.

"Our report is filed. You should have viewed it already. We filed it 10 minutes ago. You being lazy again Rubenz?" Detective Scinlin leered at Brad.

Scinlin was a hard ass twenty-nine year old female detective. She had made detective faster than any other officer on the force. She had briefly worked in homicide in Brad's department. They got along together like phosphorous and water.

"I just received the call 4 minutes ago, and only the cursory first response report was included in my file." Brad said.

"Not our problem, take it up with the Captain." Jambun said as he tried to walk past Brad.

Brad didn't let him through. "Well this crime scene is still yours until I either get your report verbally or digitally. Check your phone yourself. Who is still responsible for this scene?"

Jambun looked down at his phone and said, "Shit."

Even Brad could see that the screen was still green in tint indicating crime scene responsibility had not yet passed.

"OK, asshole let’s get this over with. We have us a murder victim. One Terrence McBoyd, aka Terry. It would appear that he died due to excessive blood loss when his peter was cut off," Jambun stated using that odd and very old fashioned slang term for penis.

"What about the other eighty-six victims?" Brad recalled the preliminary report indicated as many as eighty-seven other victims.

"It was a fuck off. Terry boy was apparently the King of the Whack Jobs, literally. All those other penises lying around in that bloody mess weren't his." Hernandez said.

“Penes,” stated Rubenz.

“What?” said Hernandez.

“The plural for penis is penes, p-e-n-e-s,” said Rubenz wishing he hadn’t said a word, but it just slipped out.

"Who gives a fuck. Technically the penises probably were the victims." Scinlin snickered.

"What the hell are you two talking about? Are you saying eighty-six men were mutilated, not killed and Mr. McBoyd was the only person harmed fatally?" Brad asked.

"Brad, you are getting too old for this job. You're behind the fucking times. Didn't you hear me? Terry boy was a 'WHACK JOB'. He got his ROCKS off literally by getting his rocks cut C-U-T off.” Scinlin said with ridicule spitting out of his mouth. “Where have you been, living in a fucking hole in the ground?"

Brad was definitely a little confused but didn't want to give Hernandez the satisfaction. "I don't work IP Vice. Just what new sick and twisted shit has your department cooked up and shared with the masses lately. Trying to justify your budget again?" IP Vice had a massive corporate sponsored budget that was the envy of all other police departments short of Internal Terrorism which was funded directly by Homeland Security.

Always looking for an opportunity to show how smart he was, Jambun spoke up, "Mr. McBoyd was a sexual deviant. He engaged in a new sexual fetish called Whacking Off. Detective Hernandez referred to him in the vernacular as a Whack Job, a person that receives the cut from a Whacker, the person that does the cutting. The Whacker cuts off the P3nis of the Whack Job. That's P3nis with a three not an 'e'. A P3nis is a prosthetic device originally developed during the sixth Deck to replace damaged, mutilated, destroyed penises of veterans."

"You mean 'Penes'" Brad interjected.

"Do you want this debrief or not?” Jambun interjected. “The P3nis was developed to not only look and feel like the real thing, but to respond as well. Through a combination of biochemistry and nanotechnology it automatically electrically connects itself to the nervous system when it comes in contact with human skin. It has the ability to give the host the feeling of a fully operational penis." Jambun finished.

"He sold Plug n Play dicks, made to be Whacked Off." Hernandez spouted.

Jambun continued, "Some sick fucking house wife figured out that if you cut off a P3nis, it triggers a sensation in the brain that replicates the best fucking orgasm a person could ever hope to have. Our victim Mr. McBoyd was the King of the Whack Jobs, literally. His company mass produced and distributes P3nises around the world. He also has his own video production facility where viewers who don't want to actually experience getting their rocks cut off, can instead, get their rocks off by watching others get their rocks Whacked Off. McBoyd's moniker in this production is King of the Whack Jobs. He's had his P3nis cut off over a million times in video although most people did not know his real name."

Brad just looked at the two detectives. His phone chirped, he looked down, it was green. He had the file. This whacko fucking case was his.

Hernandez snorted, and the two IP Vice detectives walked past him to the emergency response terminal that was still open. They closed the panel and zipped away in the blink of an eye.

"Jesus stole my Skate Board" started playing on his phone again.

"Fuck," he swiped the screen, "Detective Rubenz here."

"Oh My god, Brad, Is it true? Is Terry dead?"

Brad's world just turned inside out. Jenny was talking to him, she had just called and Jenny knew about his murder victim.

Continue to Next Chapter 004 – Discovery

002 – Piece Meal

iterative update 1.3

Brad was en route to the Mega Warehouse complex. His phone indicated that he should arrive in about three minutes. It was an unusually long commute, especially in an era where live crime scene investigations were almost unheard of.

He was traveling at an ever increasing speed in an emergency response terminal that itself moved within a hyper train.

Hyper trains moved at speeds approaching three hundred fifty miles per hour. The trains however were extraordinarily long. Any given train could easily carry up to ten million passengers. The trip might not take long, but getting through the line of people or from the rear or middle of the train to the front of the train or exits, well that's where the trip could be grueling.

Brad was riding within an emergency response terminal. It was essentially a mobile pod within the train, it actually traveled on an upper level of the train, moving from the rear of the train to the front of the train. All passengers traveled in pods, that would be released as a traveler approached their destination point or exit ramps to smaller trains that would get them closer and closer. Some public terminals or pods even required the passenger to disembark and switch to a different pod on a different system.

Wealthy people had access to pods that also moved on the upper section of the train, but emergency personnel terminals were always given precedence and their own restricted area within any major hyper train and most minor trains as well.

Brad checked his phone again. Two minutes until arrival. He could be anywhere in the area of primary jurisdiction within 4 minutes, but typically dispatching optimization routines kept travel time down to a minute or less. It was atypical for Brad to be sent to a crime scene so far away regardless, he’d have to consider that later.

His phone buzzed quickly and he noticed that he was finally receiving an initial crime scene folder. This was late also and that was not normal. He'd been on this case less than 5 minutes and things were already FUBARed.

He twitched his nose and his eye lens implants activated a filter that would ensure the contents of the folder would only be viewable by his eyes only. The lenses contained an encryption key of ridiculous strength that filter out the signal images from his phone, translating them in real time so that he could view the information.

No one sitting close or using some type of surveillance device would be able to view this file in real time, although a good cracker could parse the governmental encryption key in about an hour. Few hackers had that kind of time these days. As always, Brad's head start on this case working with the incoming information would be one of his few advantages especially if the media leaped on at some point.

The file opened up on what could only initially be described as a bloody, fleshy mess.

Brad was viewing a video pan of the crime scene, with scrolling information running on the right side. He made slight rotations and twists with his hands holding his motion sensitive phone and the video angle panned and zoomed at his direction.

At first glance, he seemed to be looking at the remnants of body parts strewn across a warehouse floor between two massive aisles of pallets of goods stacked ten stories high. The shrink wrapped pallets were covered in blood that was still dripping down the sides to puddles on the floor.

Brad had seen a crime scene once where a body had been run through a commercial shredder to destroy the evidence of a white collar crime. This seemed very similar sans the shredder. Plus, the body parts were a little too large to have been sliced up by a shredder.

He zoomed in a bit and looked at a pile of flesh. He touched a sensor pad on his phone to increase the illumination on the image.

"What the fuck!" Brad cringed and almost lost his dinner at the same time.

He quickly glanced at the scrolling data.

... Initial body count estimates 87 victims & increasing.

One mostly complete body,

Male, approx. age: 42

Name: Terrence McBoyd (nickname Terry). CEO and President of ...

Possible Alias . . .

Brad's terminal came to a halt, and the exit door slid open. He walked outside the door to the crime scene entrance.

Continue to Next Chapter 003 – Ulmec Skull Suckers