Fortunately, the man was dead. Unfortunately, he wasn''t alive long enough to endure the true torture the poet had planned to place upon him, no matter the case, the bloody scene was enough to get the same people, who scroll endless hours on the dark Web, to squirm.


    What a mess, the walls covered in pink flesh, icy cold blood congested alongside it in a morbid mural, a reminder of the still, warm mass (hardly identifiable as a body) currently displayed. It was almost procedural, every 2 weeks, another murder, another body mutilated into the desired painting of whom people don''t speak of. Although the strict schedule the criminal placed himself upon made his murders predictable, this nightmare he crafted with his own ruby-stained hands, was the unique turn in uncovering his identity.


    Police sirens filled the air as a young woman stumbled upon the vile act, vomiting and heaving in the process as her whole body shook, trembling as she called 999. The glacial, dead streets of London suddenly turned alive, blue and red blinding curious neighbours, who''d been peeking out from windows from the safety of their own homes. What a shame, 5 am never did seem to be the ideal time for crime.


    ~???~


    “Detective Artemis Nektarios, a pleasure to be speaking with you today” the Chief Inspector started, his voice low and dangerous, looming over Artemis in a threatening way contradicting his hearty personality.


    “The pleasure is all mine, chief, how may I be of service?“ He questioned his superior. Artemis was almost as mysterious as the serial killer he was about to be assigned with, his chestnut hair swept back with the appropriate amount of gel to give it volume, one hair askew. He had a rather pale complex adopted from his mother, his family tanning a warm sun-kissed gold, whilst he burnt a bright coral. The outfit he had on was bursting at the seams with professionalism, a burnt umber long coat, plain leather gloves, chocolate trousers, vest and pure white dress shirt. Adorned, of course, with a matching long tie. Rich hazel eyes sparkled yet blocked advances. In short, he spoke and dressed as an old British soul, despite his Greek name.


    “ Well, I''m sure you''ve heard of the mass murders currently causing chaos? I believe the youth have been referring to him as the grim reaper''s poet as well as simply the poet” he explained slowly, with purpose.


    “Yes I have sir, he is a rather confusing case” Artemis spoke apathetically, keeping it short. He wasn''t one to be overly empathetic during a case.


    “That he is, which is why you''ll be working on this case with Detective Zahra and forensic pathologist Juliette. I''ve already emailed the files necessary and informed them of your arrival.“ Chief wasn''t fond of using full names, which Artemis deemed unprofessional, insisting he must use his if not anyone else''s. Artemis had also furrowed his eyebrows together, sighing inwardly, content with being alone.


    “I understand, I assure you Chief, you won''t be disappointed,” He carefully constructed his words, not missing a single beat. Standing up, he muttered a small thank you, leaving the office with a weak smile adorning his face. Finally, a case, worth living.


    ~???~


    The meeting he had after was short, detailing the murders previously made with less than pg images. He didn''t take much time to dwell, following the simple instructions of meeting up with Zahra and then Juliette. Stepping out of his car, he inhaled the damp smog gradually, striding towards a woman with coily, onyx hair.


    The London streets weren''t what Hollywood presented them as, there wasn''t potential, everything was expensive and the air was heavy with gloom. Constantly moist surroundings made the atmosphere smell of fresh soil, the soft patter of the rain droplets wasn''t an uncommon sound. Artemis was (to say the least) disappointed when he realised the air wouldn''t get much clearer and tensions would only rise. Nonetheless, he resumed his path towards a familiar face.


    “Detective Zahra Naaji, a pleasure to be working adjacent to you in this case” Artemis smiled tensely, bringing out a hand for her to shake.


    “Always so professional, Arty I''ve known you long enough that you don''t have to refer to me as anything more than Zahra” Her voice was smooth, delicate and laced with a powerful, pronounced Egyptian accent. Her hair was placed into a bun, some curly strands spilling over, covering her decadent face. Her features were sharp, straight with a cut jawline, upturned eyes, and coffee-stained irises whilst her lips were velvet, full and plump. Artemis always thought of her as a model, her assertive stride and natural chirp were oddly fascinating. Then her personality made him lose his mind and consider resignation.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “I appreciate your distaste for my speech patterns yet they are fixed, I shall try to limit my use of your surname, however, -for my own comfort- please do not refer to me as ''Arty'',” His way of talking had a tendency to either spark a curious flame or make someone feel simple-minded and moronic. Artemis would have rolled his eyes in any which case.


    “I will never not miss that mouth of yours, anyways, this play the poet has performed is awfully brutal, looking at it alone makes me ill” Zahra stated with a less than excited expression painting her perfect features.


    “Anything note-worthy?“ Artemis pondered.


    “Only the small letter he''d left, the prick didn''t leave a trace of anything else, the man''s name was Damien Brown,” Zahra placed a hand over her mouth, heaving, “Jesus Christ, I can''t stay here, I''ll be off to see Juliette.“


    Meekly nodding, Artemis heard the clacking of her heels become less pronounced, finally taking a look for himself at the situation the killer had displayed in such a bloodthirsty fashion.


    The scene was still, unmoving and stationery, the air around becoming stagnant as the blood seemed to stick to the discoloured walls. Everything was placed perfectly, in a melancholic symphony with one another. The only thing missing was the body currently being assessed in the lab.


    “The poet who played God huh?“ Artemis murmured to himself, carefully calculating his steps to avoid the blood. A flutter of a piece of parchment had coined his interest, “This is the letter then.”


    The crackle of the paper as he picked it up echoed around the small alley walls, he could practically taste the metallic ego of the writer already.


    Can you smell that?


    Metallic taste.


    Cracking of bones,


    As the lights shuddered


    Intestines warped


    Heart thumped


    Limbs torn off


    And conscience crackled,


    With utter distaste.


    Maybe kisses, love can change


    For now, he has completed


    That metamorphosis.’


    Artemis rolled his eyes, the garish and uncivilised note proved his theory that the man was a psychopath. Lack of rhyme, rhythm and overuse of enjambment pointed signs to this murder being unplanned, almost incomplete with no preparation. Although he only had some examples of his poems before, this one seemed different. A hiccup. However, Artemis set that thought aside, rather he was puzzled by the mention of the intestines. He wasn''t much disturbed by the organs when he first saw the pictures, yet it spiked his curiosity.


    Knitting his eyebrows together at the apparent mystery at hand, he felt satisfied by the amount of inferring he would be subjected to in the coming months.


    Pushing himself up, he walked back to his car after a brief (mostly one-sided) conversation with the policemen, informing him of what had been found alongside time. After taking his absence, he made an effort to drive to the lab in which the autopsy had taken place. He reached his destination in a matter of minutes however neither worried nor stressed, only a small wrinkle of his brow was evident. His only show of emotion. It wasn''t as if he was a squeamish person.


    Juliette had greeted him before he had any time to properly associate himself with his surroundings, “Artemis, I''m so glad to finally meet you, my name is Juliette” she grinned at him, her eyes downturned, bright and ever so shiny.


    “The same could be said for you, Juliette Blanchet, a privilege to be working with you in this case,” he had reached out his hand for her to shake, which she graciously accepted. Soft hands caressed his equally velvet skin with ease.


    “Well me and Sophie had just finished the autopsy an hour or two ago, the body is still on the table if you''d like to check it out. It''s Uh grim to say the least” she smiled sheepishly. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, dirty blonde with licks of strawberry as if it were an ice cream swirl, even if it were it wouldn''t be as sweet as the woman in front of him. Although she stood quite short, her confidence kept her on her feet with her every loving passion for helping and fighting for justice. Inspirational, delightful, and irresistible are some adjectives that were used to describe Juliette, her amber eyes reflecting those of a simple yet captivating deer.


    He nodded, laying down light, pleasant steps on the ground as he noticed Zahra also analysing the body.


    “Do you think something feels, hm, odd? Off almost? Something is out of place,” Zahra mentions to Artemis who is still perplexed at the precise incisions made at the fleshy mass.


    It was vile, a mess and in general disgusting. The revolting body had looked to have been skinned whilst the victim was alive, the intestines both removed at the end of his torment. No stitches were present. A ghastly sight, indeed.


    “It seems so messy. Although we aren''t familiar enough with his patterns to be entirely sure this disaster wasn''t planned, or worse.“ Artemis stated calm and composed.


    “A copycat maybe?“ Juliette offered.


    “Good call, Jules but this is definitely the poet.“ Zahra stated confidently.


    “I must agree with Zahra, albeit, we still don''t know enough about him, to correctly make that assumption that is,” Intrigued Artemis, his mind swimming in possibilities pulling out his notebook to jot down a couple words from his breast pocket, “We shall sleep on it for these odd circumstances,”


    “Sure, his body will be put in the morgue,” Juliette stated the morbid truth with an odd cheer.


    “Wait a minute, Juliette did you run a background check? On Damien Brown that is.”


    “I''m sure we did, you can check it out in the police office I''ll send you the file when we find it,” she took off her gloves slowly, “I haven''t had the time to read it all, just some basic medical history.“


    Artemis nodded, he was about to leave until a police officer had walked in on the 3 of them standing around the piece of flesh, looking as dishevelled as ever.


    “What happened, are you alright?“ Zahra asked hurriedly, Juliette''s gaze was coated in a thick layer of concern whilst Artemis waited patiently, although on edge.


    “Another body was found.“