Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.
Claimer: I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel and Ciljan) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Saphira/Thorn's human appearances.
Warnings: Slash/Shōnen-ai – meaning mild guy x guy action. Swearing or strong language. Character Death – made up characters as of now. Implied Torture. Gore and Blood – I like my crime scenes messy, my apologies. Femslash/Shōjo-ai – meaning mild girl x girl action. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.
A/N Hello and welcome to Black Mist, the sequel of Red Haze. We here at SussieKitten's fanfics ask you all to please buckle up, keep your elbows inside the cart during the entire ride, and to please read the very important Author Note at the bottom of this chapter. This will clear up any confusion and hopefully make the ride more enjoyable.
But over to more important business. Hehe. I'd like to thank everyone who read, enjoyed, reviewed and/or put Red Haze on their favourite/alert list. You people are the reason this sequel was born. A final and humongous thanks to dragonrider713 who beta'ed this story and helped me make it better. :D PS, I have changed the way I write time. It is now written as AM and PM. I hope this will make things easier.
Part One; Blackened
(02.23 PM – Wednesday 3rd of September. Inside the Police Department in Carvahall, Alagaësia.)
It had been nearly two months since their last big case, but the desk was by no means any tidier. It was still filled with papers, files and an odd pen here and there. A jacket hung over the chair and a half-filled cup of coffee that had long since gone cold had been placed over a few stained papers. Everything looked normal.
"Yo, Morann!" A blond male poked his head inside of the open door and let out a small sound of puzzlement when he found the office empty.
"Oy, has anyone seen Morann today?" Aksel shouted over to the break room.
Thorn padded over to the doorway and lifted his eyebrow.
"He's not in his office?"
Aksel shook his head.
"Unless he can disguise himself as a half-dead plant, no." The blond stated.
"I think he's talking to the Captain." Vanir drawled as he walked out of the lab next door. "And you people do realise the whole station can probably hear you?"
Aksel just nodded happily.
"Did it ever occur to you that he might just be hiding from you?" Vanir drawled with a small smirk, pointedly looking at the blond.
"Oy, play nice Therr." Aksel said and wagged a finger mock-threateningly. "Or else..."
Vanir just rolled his eyes and brushed past Thorn as he entered the room.
"How do you do that?" Thorn asked amusedly.
"That's for me to know, and you to ponder about."
The red haired man shook his head and walked down towards Aksel.
"Morann will come around." He said as he passed the blond.
Aksel just shrugged and practically skipped to the break room.
A figure came around the corner then. The figure glanced around himself before slipping into the room Aksel had just checked. He closed the door behind him and sighed. Murtagh brushed a hand through his long hair and looked at the mess with a critical eye. He only ended up picking up the half-full cup and emptying the contents into the plant by the door. It really was no wonder it was in a bad shape.
Murtagh walked back over to the desk, slowly starting to tidy up the worst mess. He hadn't done it since he had gotten the office a few years ago, but at that moment he just needed something to do with his hands. He wanted to keep himself busy enough so that his mind wouldn't start to away run from him. And since Ajihad had banned him from using the shooting range more than two times a week, he didn't have anything else to do. He wanted to save his passes until he really needed them.
Murtagh brushed hair out of his eyes and started to put old files in a pile and odd documents in another. He raised an eyebrow when he found a file from almost six months ago. He really did need to organize a bit better. The dark haired brunet reached for another pile of documents and picked it up. In the process his fingers slipped and he felt a sharp edge cut into a finger.
The papers fell to the floor and fluttered around him. Murtagh glared down at the cut that was quickly starting to bleed. A small sneer entered his lips as he watched a blood drop fall to the floor, just barely missing a document. He sighed and tugged towards the door. He stalked towards the bathroom, ignoring everyone around him as he did so, and walked inside. He watched in morbid fascination as he tended to the cut, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood. It stung like hell, even worse when he held it under water. The hazel eyed man swore again and dried his finger. Then he wrapped it up in some paper towels before exiting the room.
He tried to push down the thoughts that had started to bubble under the surface. The cut had distracted him from what he had been doing, allowing thoughts he didn't want to almost enter his conscious mind. That was another trick he had taught himself after Galbatorix. He could push down memories until he no longer could access them. That was, until something made him lose concentration. Something very simple could break the barrier completely and send thoughts and memories flying back.
Murtagh stalked into his office and slammed the door shut. He glared down at the mess he had left in his wake. He gathered up the papers messily and wished he could have slammed them down onto the desk.
He clenched his fist when he felt other thoughts start to push on the barrier in his mind. Things he wished could have, could do, things he had denied himself to even think about. Things that started with the letter E.
Murtagh let out a loud and frustrated groan. He slammed down his fist onto the desk and both felt and saw three things happening at once. First he saw the papers on his desk shake and nearly fall to the floor. Then he felt splinters enter his hand as he made a dent in the desk and felt more than he heard himself yell out. And finally he saw Thorn enter the office with a startled look on his face.
"All those times I've called you a masochist was a joke, I hope you realise that." Thorn drawled.
Murtagh snorted. He lowered his eyes to stare down at his messed up hand. Good thing it was his right; he would need the left one later.
"Do you want me to take you down to the coroner to get that patched up?"
To an outsider, Murtagh knew how that sounded. But it was a fact that people from their station got hurt so often that the coroner had started to keep a large and fully stocked first-aid kit in the morgue. The hospital simply got tired of tending to every small injury that their officers came in with, so they had un-subtly suggested that they equip the coroner with a larger and more professional first-aid kit so that they didn't have to run down to the hospital every time someone got into a fight. That last part had been directed at Murtagh, and the hazel eyed man knew it. And he didn't even care.
"Hell no." Murtagh snorted. "I'd rather take care of this myself. I am not going near any dead people."
Thorn rolled his eyes.
"Fine, whatever." The redhead mumbled. "But then you need to take care of it later. The Captain wants us."
Murtagh frowned as he listened to his friend walk away. He glared down at his bleeding hand almost accusingly. He sighed and mentally prepared himself for a new case. He took a quick pit-stop at the toilet to wrap up his knuckles before going into the briefing room.
When he entered the room was in a chaos. Murtagh had a flashback to when it had been in such a state the last time. That had been when Galbatorix had resurfaced, when he had met Er-
Murtagh killed that train of thought. He scowled before stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. Nasuada was talking to someone over the phone, looking a little frantic as she twined a piece of her hair. Murtagh was surprised to see it out of the usual ponytail she kept it in. Thorn was studying a map that had been put up on a bulletin board, a smaller one than they usually had. Vanir was glaring down at his notes, muttering things to himself as he read on. Aksel, who by now had become a permanent member of the team, was balancing a pen on his nose, his eyes closed and he had a small frown on his lips. Captain Ajihad looked up when he arrived and nodded to him. Murtagh returned the gesture.
"Now that we're all here, let's begin." Ajihad said sombrely. "Nasuada, if you could start the briefing."
The black haired woman nodded as she put away her cell phone.
"We've just gotten some rather disturbing news." Nasuada said and picked up a few files and began to pass them around. "Teirm reported in three homicides to us an hour ago after having made the connection. The defence attorney is going to have a field day with this."
Murtagh frowned at her words. When he opened the file, he had to hold down a string of curses. Three over-view photos had been pinned up on the inside of the perm, and they looked too familiar for comfort. The teenagers' guts had been split open and the organs placed in a circle around the body. There were familiar traces of torture visible on the bodies as well. And last, but not least, the heart had been placed right next to the wall and above it was a chilling message written in blood. Murtagh didn't have to look at the close-ups to know what they said.
"What the fuck is this?" Murtagh hissed.
"That would be the bodies of two males and a female, tortured in a way that the defence will not only have a field day with, but eat up whole." Vanir drawled and threw the file onto the table. "This was just what we needed. Galbatorix's trial is in three weeks!"
Murtagh found himself agreeing with Vanir's every word, and strangely enough it didn't bother him. But then again, he was too pissed off to care.
"Morann." Murtagh's head snapped up at Ajihad's voice. "What do you see?"
Murtagh forced down the sneer that he could feel was about to enter his lips.
"Either it's a really good copy-cat, which it clearly is not, or we're dealing with someone from the Forsworn."
"What?!" Aksel burst out, the pen falling into his lap as he shot up in his seat. "Oh, please be kidding."
"I'm not." Murtagh drawled. "This is too perfect to be a copy-cat. We never released the messages to the media, and we always cleaned the crime scenes before anyone from the outside could see them. Galbatorix's gang is gigantic; there is bound to be someone who knew just how to do this and is doing it to get their boss released."
Ajihad shook his head sadly.
"What are we going to do?" He sighed.
"We need to find whoever is doing this and stop them." Murtagh growled.
"Well genius, any idea how to do just that?" Vanir said with a sneer.
Murtagh smirked before standing up.
"As a matter of fact, I do." He said.
(08.07 PM – Wednesday 3rd of September. In a back alley on the Main Street in Carvahall, Alagaësia.)
Murtagh stuffed his hands into a pair of gloves and walked down the alley as if he belonged there. He had once belonged there, when he had been allowed outside as a young teenager, but it had been years since he had last stepped a foot into the dodgy end of Carvahall. He made sure the jacket was properly zipped up as the road he was walking on got a little wider. Around him he could now see strip joints, shady bars, a well disguised brothel and a few odd shops.
Murtagh made sure to look a little angered but determined as he continued to walk. Many girls and guys were winking at him, beckoning him to come over, but he would do no such thing. He was there for one purpose and one purpose only. The hazel eyed man lowered the brim of his cap to shield his eyes a little more and took a sudden turn to the right. He stepped over a few mumbling and stinking junkies and sighed silently in relief when he found the shop he was looking for. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It looked like a tattoo parlour, and it was that too, but it wasn't the only thing the house housed. He forced his mind away from what was going on in the basement and started to walk up to the counter. The room smelled of musk and cheap disinfectant. It was humid inside, and the place clearly needed to be cleaned. Murtagh pulled down the zipper on his jacket as he continued to look around the room. The counter had a slight layer of dust on it, and the display cases were smudged with fingerprints and something else that Murtagh didn't want to know what was. Large leaflets filled with tattoo designs hung on the walls, the corner of the papers curling slightly and an odd rift could be seen here and there.
The clerk was a man who looked to be in his late twenties. He had a thin but slightly tall Mohawk on his head that had been coloured dark blue and green. The rest of his head was shaved. He had various odd piercings on his face and the tattoos began on his neck and disappeared under his shirt, only to continue on his arms. The clerk looked up from where he was toying with a very sharp looking dagger when Murtagh came to a stop in front of him. Murtagh made sure to lower his head so that only his nose and mouth could be seen.
"What do you want?" He rasped angrily.
"I'm here to call in a favour..." Murtagh said and allowed a smirk to enter his lips. "Ciljan."
The man in front of him froze and his dark grey eyes widened for a second.
"There's no one here by that name." He snapped. "Get out!"
"I'm truly offended." Murtagh taunted and let his smirk widen. "Don't you remember me, Cil?"
The clerk narrowed his eyes. When Murtagh knew he wasn't about to get thrown out within the next second, he lifted his head and locked eyes with the man in front of him.
"Wha?!" The grey eyed man stumbled back and didn't stop until he met the wall. "Murtagh?"
The dark haired brunet allowed his smirk to widen just another notch. He pulled off the cap, his eyes never leaving the man before him.
"How've you been?"
Ciljan frowned and seemed to finally come to his senses.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ciljan hissed.
"As I said, I'm calling in a favour." Murtagh drawled. "Don't tell me all the screams have finally rendered you deaf?"
"No way am I repaying you!" Ciljan said and shook his head. "The Man himself is behind bars because of you."
"Yes, and I intend that his stay there becomes permanent." Murtagh said coldly and leaned onto the counter, bringing their faces closer together. "And you're going to help me."
"Sorry, I don't have a death wish." Ciljan drawled and picked up the dagger again, sticking it into a holster around his hips.
The other man didn't have a chance to pull the dagger back out before he had a gun pointed in-between his eyes.
"You will help me, Drale, or I will kill you myself." Murtagh growled. "And believe me, the last man I pointed this gun at, just like this in fact, ended up dead a second later."
Ciljan Drale gulped.
"Fine, fine! What do you want to know?" He asked shakily. "But you know I can't spill something that's too deep into the circle, yeah? I'd be signing my own death warrant."
Murtagh nodded curtly before putting the gun safely into the harness under his arm. It was the only place he could wear it that it couldn't be seen. His jacket was too short to have the harness around his hips.
"What do you want to know?" Ciljan murmured.
"There has been a string of murders in Teirm during the past month, just like the ones The Man himself was responsible for. Do you know anything about that?" Murtagh whispered.
Ciljan looked awkward for a split second before he was once again indifferent.
"Can't say I do." He said and shrugged. "Tough luck, man."
The gun was staring down at him again before he could even finish the last sentence.
"Alright, alright!" Ciljan cursed under his breath. "I've heard that rest of the gang have put the ones that performed the original torture on the previous cases. They're the ones that found the victims and took 'em out. They want their boss freed, but I'm sure you already knew that."
Murtagh nodded sharply as he slowly lowered his gun to rest on his thigh.
"Apparently, they're going to confuse the cops so bad they'll have no choice but to release him. But I don't know any names of the targets or who's doing the torture! I swear, man."
Murtagh felt a small hint of satisfaction from seeing the man before him sweat.
"Thanks." Murtagh said, knowing that he wouldn't be getting more out of Ciljan. "It's been a pleasure to see you again."
Ciljan nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shifting between the outer door and the back room.
"This is where we part, old friend. It was nice knowing you." Murtagh said and lifted his gun, pulling back the safety with his thumb as he did so.
The man before him held up his hands and started to shake.
"Aw, come on. Don't be like that! I swear I won't tell anyone you came here, I'll do anything, just please don't kill me!" Ciljan started to sob shakily.
Murtagh sighed tiredly.
"You know what; I'm in a good mood today. I'll let you live on one condition."
Ciljan started to nod his head and mumble how he would do anything.
"If you promise to give me all information that you obtain on this case on a later date, and then I mean abso-fucking-lutely every dab squat of information, I'll let you live." Murtagh said with a sneer. "Will you promise me that?"
"Yes! Anything! I promise! When I know you'll know!" Ciljan sobbed.
Murtagh let his sneer widen just a notch.
"Good. Now, remember... you owe me. Are we clear?" He asked icily as he pushed the safety back in place on his gun.
Ciljan nodded and continued to mumble how he promised to do anything, that Murtagh's word was law. Murtagh rolled his eyes and put away his gun. He put his cap back on and started to exit the parlour. He threw one last glare at the man behind the counter before exiting. He felt another stab of satisfaction when Ciljan cowered under his glare. Murtagh closed the door with a sound smack.
(08.34 AM – Thursday 4th of September. Inside the Police Department in Carvahall, Alagaësia.)
Murtagh continued to absently chew on a wooden toothpick as he looked at the mess around him. He had given his report the night before after having gotten back from his encounter with Ciljan, but he had wanted to get in bright and early to continue the work. The briefing room looked like a small hurricane had hit it, though Murtagh would admit that his office looked worse. He sighed before getting to work.
A half-hour later the room looked considerably tidier. New information had been pinned to the bulletin board and the blackboard had been cleaned. The table they sat around had been tidied, and each chair had the necessary files and documents in front of them. Murtagh dragged a hand through his hair and nodded in satisfaction.
Murtagh turned around when a whistling Aksel came to a sudden stop in the doorway.
"... I could have sworn this place looked like a mess when we left." The blond murmured. "Alright, who went all Cleaning-Nazi when I wasn't lookin'?!"
Murtagh rolled his eyes and slid into his seat.
"Three guesses who, moron." He drawled and began to look through his file, looking at the photos with critical eyes.
The blond blinked owlishly.
"Dude, you really need a hobby." He murmured, still slightly in shock. "Preferably something that drains your energy. Don't you like, need to sleep?"
"Nope." Murtagh said curtly and began to write down a few notes. "I can sleep when I'm dead."
Aksel began to mutter things under his breath before he slumped down into his own seat, still staring at the man before him.
"If ya don't sleep, that might be a lot sooner than ya think." Aksel said and raised an eyebrow.
"So?" Murtagh said, still not looking up.
He didn't need to be looking up to know what Aksel was doing.
"Oy, when did you decide to go all suicidal on us?!"
The hazel eyed man flipped a page, but didn't answer. He skimmed over the autopsy report until he found what he was looking for. He frowned.
"Object rape?" He murmured to himself.
"Yo, are you listening to me?" Aksel huffed.
Murtagh rolled his eyes and looked up. He crocked an eyebrow in disinterest.
Aksel sent him a glare before starting to mutter curses under his breath. Murtagh had to give it to him though; he hadn't heard half of them before and that was saying something. Murtagh was quite familiar with curse words and had a nice vocabulary of them at his disposal.
"Thorn!" Aksel whined. "Your best friend is displaying suicidal tendencies again."
The hazel eyed man snorted and went back to the file. He didn't need to hear this.
"Really? Well, he should know better than that. If he ever tried to kill himself, I'd be there to not only stop him, but kill him myself." Thorn's deep voice echoed briefly in the room.
Murtagh just clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"Good morning everyone!"
The three males turned to stare at the grinning female in the doorway.
"Arya, aren't you supposed to be on the streets?" Thorn asked.
"Oh, I still am." She said and winked. "But a little bird whispered in my ear, and I just had to come and see if the rumours were true."
"Yes, we are dealing with a case that could harm the case against Galbatorix." Murtagh said deadpanned and looked back down.
"You always ruin my fun." Arya said with a pout.
"It's what I live for." Murtagh drawled.
"Anyway, so it is true?" Arya said, becoming serious in the blink of an eye.
"I'm afraid so." Thorn said and sighed. "New information suggests that this is something the Forsworn have cooked up to free their boss."
"Damnit." The green eyed female cursed. "Does this mean we need to put surveillance on Eragon again?"
The room froze. Murtagh felt his knuckles turn white as he gripped the pen even tighter. How could he have forgotten that?! The answer was whispered in his mind, but Murtagh pushed it away.
"Brilliant observation, Elve."
Arya jumped slightly and moved to let the three people behind her pass. Ajihad sat down in his usual seat and looked gravely around in the room. Nasuada and Vanir sat down as well, but Thorn and Arya remained standing. Hadn't he been sure his legs would fail him Murtagh would have gotten up too.
"After talking with Detective Black, I've decided to put Detective Elve on Rider." Ajihad said and nodded to Arya. "I've also decided to put M-"
Murtagh sent his boss a sharp look that made him pause. If Ajihad chose him, he would quit on the spot. And he made sure to send that message to the Captain with his eyes.
"- Officer Elve on him." Ajihad finished.
"Really? Woot!" Aksel said and pumped his arm in the air in a victorious move. "But why me, sir?"
"You're more qualified. You also blend in on the street easier." The Captain said, folding his fingers to rest his chin on them.
"Huh." Aksel muttered. "I could have sworn you were gonna say another name, though."
The Captain gave a dismissive wave.
"We need to focus on the case, not what I may or may not have been about to say." He said and shifted his gaze. "From the information Morann gathered yesterday, what can we say about the Unsub?"
"They are a present member of the Forsworn and one of those that managed to get away." Thorn said and finally sat down.
"They have a high position in the gang and were present at the previous murders, as we can see because the torture methods didn't change and the message stayed the same." Murtagh paused.
"They're still loyal to Galbatorix." Vanir drawled.
"Who do you reckon it could be, Morann?" Ajihad asked quietly.
Murtagh shifted in his seat as he turned the question over in his mind. He had gone over and over it during the past few hours, and he was no closer to an answer.
"I don't know, sir. The previous torturers were murdered just before I ran. I don't know who he chose to be his next one or ones." Murtagh said gravely.
"What? There can be more than one?" Vanir asked sharply.
"He always preferred it to be two torturers, actually. So, if something happened to one of them, he would still have a backup." Murtagh replied emotionlessly.
"God, how sick can someone get?" Nasuada murmured quietly.
"Apparently it just got worse." Murtagh drawled. "The new victims, while they were all violated, it was with an object this time. Clearly Galbatorix himself needed to do the actual -"
"That's enough." Ajihad interrupted sternly.
Murtagh lifted his hands in quiet surrender.
"We won't be moving Rider and Miss Drake into a safe-house yet, even if there is a chance the unsubs might be moving towards Carvahall." The older man said with a small sigh.
"We're taking that risk again, sir?" Arya piped up softly.
Ajihad nodded slowly.
"I don't like the thought of not moving them, but we don't have a probable cause yet. Don't look at me like that Morann; you know that I answer to others as much as you do."
Murtagh forced himself not to let out the sneer that was begging to be shown on his lips.
"You two will be protecting them as subtly as you can. I don't want you to blow your cover unless it's absolutely necessary." Ajihad said and stood up. "But don't forget that there are still people who are in danger, and this time the torturers don't care if they're male or female. Keep your eyes open."
Ajihad was the first one to leave. Murtagh watched as the others got to their feet or started to look through their files more thoroughly. He saw Arya and Aksel talk quietly to Nasuada before leaving the room. Vanir started to take notes while he read through the documents before him. Thorn stood as quietly as he had done throughout the whole meeting. Murtagh rose from his seat slowly, putting the file under his arm before he began to leave the room. As he stepped over the threshold he couldn't help but feel like something was going to happen soon, and that it wouldn't be good.
(09.15 AM – Friday 12th of September. Inside Murtagh's apartment in Carvahall, Alagaësia.)
Not a day after their meeting had there been a murder in Carvahall. And despite everything that had happened before, Ajihad had gravely told his team that they wouldn't be moving Eragon and Saphira. Murtagh had nearly slammed his fist through the wall when he had heard this. Hadn't it been for a conveniently placed Thorn beside him, he knew he would have.
Ajihad had later calmly explained that his superiors didn't want it to seem like the new murders and the ones tied to Galbatorix were connected, so they didn't want Galbatorix's old targets moved unless it was absolutely necessary. Ajihad had told them that he didn't support his superiors' views, but that he couldn't go against them in any way. Murtagh had nearly told his boss right there what he felt about the superiors, but a hand over his mouth, courtesy of Thorn, had prevented him from doing so. Now, much later, Murtagh thanked his friend for having done so. He liked his job, after all.
Currently Murtagh was sitting cross legged on the floor, his hands resting on his thighs as he inhaled and exhaled calmly. His eyes were closed and his hair was falling into his face. He had gotten tired of it ten minutes into his meditation, and tied back the longer parts of his hair with a band. There was now a small ponytail in the back of his neck, where parts of the hair had curled to rest on his right shoulder. He had neglected to put on a shirt after his rude awakening. His first priority had been to calm his mind as well as his body.
While he slept his barriers had come crashing down. No man could control his dreams, not even Murtagh. And his dreams had been filled with a younger male, soft brown hair, deep brown eyes and a future that could have been. Midway through the dream had changed. It had morphed into a monstrosity where Murtagh had been forced to watch what was most precious to him being taken away. Murtagh had watched him get raped, beaten, tortured in the most brutal way, and there was nothing he could do to help him. And then, with a bittersweet finality, the brunet had been killed before his eyes. Murtagh had woken up just when the torture was about to begin again, with a freshly revived and still as torn Eragon.
Murtagh forced down a pained groan. He could still feel the bile that he had felt in his throat when he had woken up. The sweat had long since dried, but he could still feel it on his body. As if he didn't already feel dirty enough, he thought bitterly.
Just as his mind was beginning to calm down and his barriers snap back into place, the police radio crackled into life.
"All available units are requested to leave for Carvahall College ASAP. There has been a confirmed 419 on campus. I repeat; there's a 419 on Carvahall College."
Murtagh felt his eyes snap up. He swore loudly and sat up in a hurry. He stumbled quickly into a pair of black slacks and shouldered on a white shirt as he walked. He was still buttoning up his shirt as he locked the door. The hazel eyed man barely remembered to check if his gun was in its place around his hips before getting into his car and driving towards the college almost illegally fast.
Murtagh didn't know what, but he felt that there was something seriously wrong this time. It didn't matter that he wasn't on duty before noon, he knew this had something to do with Galbatorix, and damnit, he was going to be there!
Twenty minutes later he pulled up at the college. He winced when he thought of the innocent students inside of it, unaware of the dead body literally outside of their door. Murtagh got out of his car and slammed the door shut. He merely threw the tie around his neck, not even bothering to tighten it from when he had loosened it the previous time to take it off. In front of him he could see two officers pulling yellow tape around a more shielded part of the green. There was almost a pocket in the building where there was plenty of room for at least six people. Murtagh had visited the spot a few times during his college days. It was a popular make-out spot. Murtagh shook the memories away from his mind and continued to scan the grounds.
He could see an officer he had exchanged greetings with once or twice talking to a very hysterical young girl. One of her friends was looking just as shaken, but was trying her best to calm the other down. Murtagh nodded to the officer before going under the tape, towards where he could see Thorn, Vanir, Arya and the coroner standing. The coroner lifted the sheet from the body and spoke quietly. He saw Arya crouch down before stumbling back in shock. The hazel eyed man instantly became worried when Nasuada hastily shoved what had been in her hands into a technician's hands and rushing forward to gather Arya in her arms. Arya was sobbing loudly and shaking her head. Murtagh upped his speed. He had reached Thorn, who had walked a few steps back as well, before he was noticed.
"Murtagh, don't -"
"What's going on?" Murtagh interrupted harshly.
Beside him, Arya continued to cry and yell out curse words. Nasuada tried in vain to calm her down. Vanir had crouched down and an uncharacteristic tension could be seen in his shoulders.
"Morann, I suggest you step back." Vanir spoke up emotionlessly. "Wait for the Captain to arrive."
"What the fuck's going on?" Murtagh spat, the worry in him only growing stronger.
He tried to step forward, but Thorn put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him back. Vanir stood back up, a distressed look in his normally calm blue eyes. Murtagh couldn't help but notice that he almost looked... sad.
"Morann, I know we don't get along, but please stay back."
Murtagh felt a painful stab of fear enter his heart. He shoved Thorn's hand off his shoulder and shouldered Vanir out of the way. The coroner was speaking to a couple of medics that had just arrived, the gurney they had come with lowered to the ground and ready to be used. Murtagh looked down at the body in shock.
He had seen dead people before, plenty of them in fact. It did come with the job. But somehow this one was different. It was a young and thin male, someone who was not going to become older than twenty. His jeans had been nearly torn to shreds at the legs, but they still seemed to cover him. Dirt was present on his clothes, as well as bruises and cuts from having fought back. His hoodie had just been pushed up and a long cut sliced his abdomen clear open. Murtagh couldn't see the organs anywhere, but dark patches in the grass let him know they had been present and moved away by skilled forensics. But the worst wound was the circular cut on his chest, where his heart had been almost ripped out of his chest. A white linen cloth had been laid gently over his face, which was stained with blood and dirt. Murtagh could see the teen's hair without removing the cloth. Light brown and windblown, it almost didn't look touched. But he could see that the forelock had been smudged with blood as it had stained the cloth straight through.
The hazel eyed man crouched down, pushing away Thorn when he once again came to stop him. Almost in a trance he moved forward and pulled away the cloth. The face looked almost angelic in death, not a single frown marred it from all the torture he must have gone through. His lip was cut, but blood no longer spilled from it. His cheek was also bruised, obviously from being hit. Murtagh felt the linen drop from his hand, but he didn't care. His focus was on the face before him, the too familiar face.
"No." He said firmly. "I'm not seeing this."
But he was. The face before him didn't change no matter how hard he stared at it. From his right he could hear the coroner talk to the medics quietly.
"The deceased has been identified on the scene as Eragon Rider..."
Murtagh shot back as if pushed. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight. He had seen that face mere hours ago in his sleep. He would never forget that face.
"That's not him!" Murtagh protested.
Thorn came forward once more, and this time the dark haired brunet didn't stop him.
"Murtagh..." Thorn whispered brokenly.
"NO!" Murtagh screamed. "That's not him! HE'S NOT DEAD!"
The red haired man held him up as his legs buckled under him. The world was fading away, but Murtagh could tell the difference from waking up and blacking out. This wasn't a dream.
His heart was beginning to beat too fast inside of him. His breaths were coming too quickly. The world was rapidly going black before his eyes.
"He's not dead, damnit!" He yelled. "ERAGON IS NOT DEAD!"
"MURTAGH!" Thorn shouted in worry.
And Murtagh fell to the ground unconscious, and the last thing he saw was Eragon's dead face staring up at him.
A/N :ducks to avoid the thrown and flying objects: Before everyone starts to tell me how the plan to murder me, asks me why and/or tells me that I'm the devil incarnate, I'll explain this chapter! (I seem to be saying this a lot, don't I? Ehehe.)
First of all, this chapter is not what it seems! I know, how can you interpret "Eragon's dead" in more ways than "Eragon's dead"? Simple; I'm damn sneaky. There's more to the chapter than what is visible to the naked eye. Also, there's a reason why this chapter was written, and you will hopefully understand that a bit in the next chapter. So :bows down before her readers: I beg you to read chapter two! It'll be worth it, I promise! There will be cookies for those that continue to read.
Secondly, I promised you that this story would have more action, right? :lifts eyebrow: Think about that.
Despite everything that :cough: happened, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next chapter will be out when I come home in two weeks, if not before. I will try my best to answer reviews and PMs while I'm away, so don't panic yet. You can still ask me quiestions or for an explanation, and I will try to answer you as soon as possible.
I know you may already know some of the words, but I'm adding them all just in case.
Coroner – the person that does the autopsy (examines the dead people and determines how they died)
(Gun) Harness – the "belt" like thing the cops have around their shoulders and upper back to keep the gun in place under their preferred arm
Unsub – short for Unknown Subject. It refers to the criminal they're trying to find. This term is only used when they don't know the identity of the criminal
Safe-house – what the name implies; a house where people who are suspected to be a target is taken for protection. Very few knows the location of these houses and who's in them
ASAP – short for As Soon As Possible
419 – the police code for a Dead Body
Forensic team – they have the same tasks as the team in the TV-show CSI. They gather evidence from a crime scene and analyse them
Technicians – (in my story) they are in the police force. They take pictures at the crime scenes or assist the forensic team when needed