Don’t fear the Reaper {Kevin, Openish}

[richie]

It was the oldest story in the book. Long week of work, the boss yelling for results and a psycho slipping through the cracks. This case was a though one, people disappearing and found later completely drained of blood like it was the work of some freaking vampire.

God, a vampire…it was a ridiculous idea.

Richie pictured a moron in a cape speaking with Romanian accent and running around at night role playing and killing people. What a freak.

But he was off the clock and tomorrow would be his day off, and that was his phone was turned off. He could swear the chief would call him if they found an unsharpened pencil in the precinct and it would be his fault, he would be called in and screamed about it for oh, about a couple hours. Seriously, the boss needed a date.

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged off all the memories of work. A drink or two, or three or four, that was what he needed to feel light as a feather and forget about everything for the night.

Dressed in plain jeans, boots and a brown leather jacket over a white tshirt, he wandered towards the club’s door and his head turned to watch the brunette that had just walked out. He eyed her, she eyed him back.

“Meow,” he flirted with a smirk and took a step closer until a large man with snakes tattooed on his neck and a mean looking frown stepped out while he placed one arm around the brunette’s waist, yeah that was Richie’s cue to take two steps back and wander into the club.

Ah, music, booze, good looking girls and no jealous boyfriends wanting to kick the crap out of him, that was more like his scene. He wasn’t one to run from a fight, but why in hell exchanging punches with a guy that was twice his size when he hadn’t enjoyed even a little? Nope, inside was full of better possibilities.

But as he took a step in, he saw this cute blonde…quick, what was her name again? Oh never mind, she had just slapped him and wandered past him. Man, he wasn’t so sure it was his fault. But yeah, the brunette that slapped him next, he certainly had deserved that one.

Rubbing his now red cheek, he walked towards the bar and glanced at the woman behind the counter.

“I ever gave you a reason to throw a drink over my face?”

When the women shook her head, he smiled lightly and added a ‘Just checking’ before ordering a beer. It was time to just lean back and wait to see what the night had in store. And please, no psycho guys who thought they were freaking Dracula….girls tough, yeah, that would be kind of hot.

[Detective Kevin Slame]

Ah, the smell of a dressing down in the morning…reminded him of peanuts and ass, man. Why couldn’t the Lieutenant scream at him BEFORE it was time to clock out? Or on a Monday, instead of in the sanctity of a Friday night? The guy was just plain crazy.

“And furthermore,” The schmuck went on, his mustache practically twitching on his face. “You’ve got yourself a new partner. His name’s Richard Sanders, and you WILL PLAY NICE and I won’t kick your ass down to beat for the rest of eternity. You got me?”

Completely, utterly, batshit crazy. Him? Have a partner? After all the crap going on in his life, he’d have to deal with a stranger? Jesus, save him from idiots!

For the next hour or so, he proceeded to tell his superior officer how his hair had browned at the roots, being so far shoved up his own ass. He proceeded to inform him that, under no circumstances would he be given another partner, after the last one had joined that nice little convent after meeting his ‘dark half’ during a particularly nasty blackout. Waking up next to a corpse and a dominatrix-style hooker definitely wasn’t his version of a good morning, and supposedly, neither was it Smith’s.

So anyway, no way in fuckin’ HELL was he gonna be teamed up with some no faced, possibly stick-up-his-ass dude from another division. No frikkin way, man!

Which was exactly why he was outside Screamers, holding a picture of the schmo’s face in his hand to show the bouncer, so he wouldn’t have to check every single bar in the district. He was such a goddamn pansy for his job.

When the bouncer nodded, Slame sauntered in, sliding the picture into his inner pocket while checking out the crowd. It was beautifully packed tonight, and with all the hot women and inviting smiles he was catching, he really did wish he’d made it off the clock. But, after the Lieutenant caught him commenting on his parentage, he was resigned to pulling a double shift tonight. Psh, who cared if he hadn’t slept in over three days? As long as he caught bad guys, he was allowed to be neurotic.

And speaking of neurotic, who the hell didn’t keep their cell on at night? This ‘Richard’ guy wasn’t on the lookout for a nice bootycall? Definitely not gonna get along.

Muscling his way through a throng of college kids- damn, nice ass…he should’ve hit campus instead of going to the academy- he managed to make it to the bar before a headache hit him. Rubbing at his temple as he scanned the nearby faces, Kevin couldn’t help but grin back as a particularly leggy blond gave him a ‘come hither’ signal. Hell, why couldn’t he have a bit of fun while looking for Partner Dearest? Pushing himself off of the bar, he started walking toward the sexy Barbie, but halfway to his mark, he caught sight of a familiar face.

“Okay, now that’s just not fuckin’ fair,” He sighed, looking from Richie, to the sexy blond, then back to Richie. Sometimes, he really hated his job.

With an apologetic smile in the woman’s direction, he tapped a finger on the other cop’s shoulder before taking a small step back. Just because they were going to be uniform-buddies, didn’t mean he had to marry the guy and his personal space issues. With a little salute as the man turned around, Kev put on his best shit eating grin. “Hey, you Richard Sanders? Name’s Kev Slame, 72nd Precinct. Guess what, buddy? You’re my new partner! Yay, huzzah, fuck yeah…now buy me a drink? We’re both gonna need it.”

[richie]

A few minutes of talk, a drink or two and the hot as hell blonde was giggling at him and brushing his hand against his thigh. Oh yeah, he was good. Off course somewhere along the line he’d tell her he was a doctor, must have been because she’d mention she thought them to be hot. And that was better than saying he was a cop, which with those expensive earrings she was wearing, she’d never even look at him otherwise. And not only a cop, but the chief’s favorite punching bag when he saw Richie with his daughter.

Maaaaan, talk about over protective fathers. The guy had him working the worst shifts and in the worst cases all around. It was only by a fluke in the space-time continuum that he had been allowed a night off. And he was going to make it a heck of a night…she would, that was more likely.

That was, until some guy would came in interrupting them and blurting out he was a cop. Which seemed to be the cue for the woman that was giving him all the right signals to throw her drink at his face and storm off, yeah, that definitively wasn’t a good signal.

With a groan, Richie swiped a napkin to dry his face and then gave an annoyed glare to the snitch. Why the heck that guy came out of nowhere and blurts out stuff like that? Wait a minute, had he said partner? No way, the chief would call him if he was going to assign some moron…oh wait, scratch that as he picked his phone, turned it on and saw five unanswered calls on it. He could only shiver to think what kind of partner they’d given him since the chief loved him oh, so much.

“Sure buddy, I will buy you a drink. Oh by the way, that was your drink that she threw at my face! Thanks for screwing what looked like a very promising night too…and you just say you’re called Kev is Lame?”

It was then that downed him, his night off was indeed a fluke, the chief had just corrected it,

“Aw man! It was supposed to be my night off! Can’t you just say you didn’t find me?”

[Detective Kevin Slame]

Kev did his best to put a contrite look onto his face, but hell if that shit eating grin didn’t seep through. If his ass didn’t get to flirt with the big boobed ladies, his new ‘partner’ sure as hell wasn’t gonna be scoring anytime soon. Call him a sadist, but a guy liked to know that he was in the same boat as the moron next to him. At least Richard had some okay taste…that one was just fine.

While the other cop proceeded to wipe his eyes and gripe, Kevin leaned back a little, following that perky ass storming away from them with a wide grin. Whoof, hello sister, he thought with a low whistle. And there was fire in that belly…maybe he’d catch her before the night was out.

Screw the no poaching rules, man. He’d actually have to like the guy to not steal his date for the night.

At the word ‘drink,’ he slowly straightened and faced off with his partner again. Rolling his eyes at the insult, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Did you seriously just call me ‘Kev is Lame?’ What are we, two years old? Fine, Mr. Stinky Pants, I’m sorry that I messed up your game,” Another glance in the blond’s direction had him grinning. “So, SO sorry.”

Straightening when he started getting signals from that hotty from before, Slame managed to muscle his way next to Richie and scope out the bar. “Gimme a Bud, man,” He said to the bartender, pointing to Richie when the guy asked for cash. Leaning on one elbow, he scoured the crowd behind them while he spoke. “And hell, Richard; if I gotta be sniffing out clubs to find your ass, you are DEFINITELY not taking a vacation. The Sarge wants us both to check out some crime scene in the Quarter tonight. Said something about a kid being found with bite marks on her neck.”

Smile fading, he raised a brow, taking a gulp of his beer when it was delivered. “You’re working that vampire-wanna-be case, aren’t you?”

[richie]

One hell of a way to start a partnership, huh? That guy was not getting on his Christmas list for making miss long legs storm off like that. This guy had a lot to learn about personal space and finesse…and looked like he was being stuck with the guy…oh joy! Why couldn’t he be partnered with that big boobed woman that had just joined the department the other week?

Oh right, because the chief hated him.

At least this way he wouldn’t feel the urge to sleep with his partner and have to work with a mad as hell partner when he’d tell her he wanted to be just friends. Wouldn’t be good to be in that situation with a woman that was supposed to be watching his back, would it?

“Yeah, I can tell you’re sorry man! Thanks so much.”

Hopefully this guy had any clue to what sarcasm was at least. And if he wasn’t sick of this vampire role playing schmuck, the idiot had to go and make a mess on his day off? He could swear, those psychos out there were a dime a dozen. He’d put one behind bars or in the morgue and the next day two more started into the murdering bastard business.

Sighing, he took his beer and killed it in one long pull.

“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?” Not to mention that behind all of his bravado, he had one hell of a conscience. It wasn’t Slame that had screwed his night, well in truth he had too, but it was another innocent girl who wasn’t going home that was the worst of it all.

“Alright Lame, let’s get moving. For justice, and for... the safety of puppies... and Christmas, right?”

Reaching got his pocket, he took out his wallet and placed the money in the counter. And just as he started to walk, the bartender called him back.

“What you mean I owe another beer? I only had two…”

[Detective Kevin Slame]

Holding his hands up, Kev did his best to look contrite. "Dude, you really think I wanna be talking to your ass, instead of going after that blond?"

With a 'yeah right' snort, he took a gulp of his beer before giving the guy a subtle once over. He had some kind of pretty boy face and an obvious love of the ladies, which he could definitely respect. Not to mention that the chief hated his ass as much as Kev to stick them together. Hooray, he wasn't the only turd in his boss' coffee! Nice!

But question was, could he stand up to his other side? Well, it wouldn't matter; no way in hell were they going to stay partners. He had too much crap in his life; he definitely didn't need to worry about leaving his partner with a target on his back when he went over to the literal Dark Side. He had enough dead bodies on his conscience as it was.

"Not tonight you're not," He replied cheerfully, taking another gulp of his beer. "But don't worry, Toto, you'll be out of OZ in no time. Just gotta catch the witch first!"

With a wide grin, he sauntered out toward the exit, his beer in hand. He hadn't heard much about the city's newest vampire wanna-be, but he'd reviewed the case file on his way over. That thought in mind, he turned around to face his 'partner,' looking completely unrepentant.

"Oh, by the way, I don't drive...something about my being a danger to the public when behind the wheel. You got a car, man? Scene's about 15 minutes away..." With fake cheer, he clapped his hands. "But you know what? We could always walk and get to know one another! Hey, you wanna get those BFF bracelets later? I want the right side of the heart!"

[richie]

Okay, he was surely going to love his new partner…not.

Come on, what had happened to camaraderie and yeah, not scamming him for paying for his freaking beer? Not to mention messing up his plans for a hot sleeping buddy for the night, those were two strikes out already.

And that guy had a smart mouth to match his. He’d thank the chief for being such a sadistic bastard. Ain’t he a lucky one? He could just feel the love. Why couldn’t they have given him a partner like Monica? One with a cute face, a great rack and long legs? Maybe just not so annoying and competitive as she was. Off course he would as well charm the hell out of her, sweep her of her feet and have her hate his guts when he told her he wasn’t looking for a long term relationship and have her asking for another partner. At least that way he would have one good night to remember.

Stepping outside, he glared at his new partner.
“You owe me a beer man, not cool.”

And off course the smartass was happy to be annoying again. Oh great.
“We are taking the car,” he replied instantly when the guy asked and muttered under his breath, “God, I’m driving Miss Daisy!”

Richie pointed the man to his car, a beaten up mustang that had seen better days. The different color of the doors that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the paint job when he had to replace them and there were a few dents here and there. But what could be expected on a cop’s salary? Especially when he spent a great deal on booze?

Luckily the radio worked, so he turned it on, loud. Anything to get him from telling his new partner where he could shove his attitude. Ah hell, he wasn’t that mad at the guy for being a prick. He was tired and annoyed that the crazy ass vampire wannabe was out there killing people and not allowing for him to enjoy his night with hot women.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the site, Richie followed Slame’s directions and as soon as he stepped out of the car he could see the flashing red and blue from the squad car there. Some of the guys with blue uniforms were already there and guided them to the place the body of a young woman laid still.

God, she was almost a kid. Didn’t deserve to end like this.

“Hey detective!”

He turned to face Mark, the police’s coroner. “Hey Mark,” he returned the greeting. Richie would actually like the guy…if he didn’t eat and smoke during the autopsies that he performed. It was unsettling enough without the thought of eating…but the dead didn’t seem to care much.

“What you got for me?”

“Yeah man, it’s your boy alright. The same M.O. she struggled before the end, she has a broken arm and almost no blood at all.”

“Let me guess, no signs of struggle here? The vamp wannabe killed her elsewhere and drained her blood since I don’t see a drop in the floor?”

“You got that right man.”

Richie sighed and rubbed the back at the head as he knelled to check the damage on the poor girl’s neck, it wasn’t a good sight.

“Alright Lame, time to do our magic and justify our crappy salary.”

Just as he was about to get up, he noticed something under the woman’s neck. Calling the coroner, he asked for a pair of gloves, tweezers and an evidence bag and quickly pulled a half-burned down cigarette into the bag and tossed it to Mark.

“There you go, a little souvenir. Did you know vampire was a smoker?”

The shake of Mark’s head told him he wasn’t aware. Great, it had just cut down the suspect list to…about 40% of the city?

[Detective Kevin Slame]

Ah, the witty banter of a guy with balls as chewed up as his. Maybe this really was going to be a nice little temporary partnership! With a laugh as the threat of a beer was thrown at him, Slame just put on his best happy go lucky expression...and started to laugh hysterically when he caught sight of the guy's ride. Jesus Christ, had he saved that since high school? Pissed someone off so much, that they went and crapped on his car? He refrained from voicing any of the comments that lodged themselves in his throat, practically choking on giggles that threatened to pour from him.

He needed a ride to the crime scene, after all, and antagonizing the driver was definitely not going to get him shotgun. But hell on wheels, if the car started to put-put up a hill, he was SO gonna lose it!

When they got to the actual scene, however, all such humor faded away. It was like he had two faces on; one for the real world, and one for the darker one that he was in charge of paroling. Like a switch being flipped, he lost all traces of wit and whatever easy going nature he still had, now falling into the cold, cliche persona of the cop he played. A sarcastic smile was etched into his face as he nodded at the scene techs and threw a caustic look around the place. From inside his coat, he fished out a pack of cigarettes and fell into routine.

Light cig, take a drag, prepare himself and walk in. Look at the body up close and personal, memorizing that face, those sightless eyes, and then walk around the perimeter. He nodded to himself when Sanders chucked a spent cig at a tech, then continued his little lap around the room. Loss of blood due to esanguination. Ligature marks around the wrists and ankles meant restraints...but from where? His eyes searched the place, looking for anything that could lead them in the right direction.

As he had with partners in the past, he started to voice what he thought. "She was killed elsewhere...but 'where' exactly? Maybe those restraints could give us a clue to what kind of bondage he likes. Guy like this, with a vampire fetish; maybe he's got ties into the S&M world? Nah, he's too loving with the victims...the only part of her that's torn is her neck, right? He wants the experience to be perfect. Only when he strikes, does the real animal come out...he builds it up, then strikes."

He paused on his way back to Sanders and the body, a flash of pain shooting through his skull. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he let the cig shift to the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, Richie? Any thoughts on who the killer might be?"

[richie]

Man, that was the part of the job he hated. A dead body lying there, one that belonged to a cute girl that should probably be partying with her friends tonight instead of ending dead in a ditch. No, the part he liked was getting creeps - like the one that had done it – off the street and send them to rot in a prison cell.

He watched as the crime scene party did their thing, collecting evidence while he turned his neck left and then right, hearing the faint crack of his tired muscles and started remembering what he knew about this case.

This was victim number five, all were found like this, a gash to the neck but little to no blood left in the scene. Richie shivered just thinking what the killer did with the blood, if he was really a freaky vampire wannabe…did he drink that shit? - Focus man, leave the gory details to the sensationalist papers and those noisy reporters. Man, he was relieved there weren’t any around there shooting off their mouths. Okay, back to the evidence.

So they were killed elsewhere, not sure where. They had never found anything close by, so whenever it was, wasn’t around the murder’s dumping sites. There was never a sign drugs found on the autopsies. Sure there wasn’t much blood for the coroner to work with, but there was no sign of anything, so he was betting it was a man that was getting the jump on the girls. But the guy always been very methodical and careful, never leading any evidence behind until now.

He had a list of suspects, people he had interviewed but never managed to pin anything due to the lack of evidence. The chief would so love him if he had made an arrest without evidence to back it up.

His head turned to Slame when he spoke.

“Oh sure man, I think it was you. You know, you are a smoker and have that psychotic look in your eyes…”

Straightening up he shrugged, yeah I have a few types on my head. Nocturnal types, a couple of dudes that only seem to like to hang out at night, that fit the vampire fantasy right? Wonder if any one of them smoke that brand of cigarettes. Care coming along for a visit and finding out?”