L_zer @keeira - Tumblr Blog

Oct 10, 2025

Take a hi(n)t

Hey Wyern, remember that drabble I told you about, the one I've been working of for... uh, months? Yeeaaaaahhh well, I kinda forgot it existed until some nights ago, soooo

Pairing: Slasher Sun and Moon (belonging to @wyervan)/Self Insert Warning: Slightly suggestive, referenced blood, torture, and murder, use of alcohol, referenced abuse Words: 7400+ Summary: Someone new walks inside the little town's arcade, someone with a police badge and pics of a dead body, and asks Sun what he knows about his most recent victim. Immediately after, the two killers embark on a quest to win the affections of the woman before she can incriminate them and send them to the electric chair. Swinging a knife is just one of the many ways to get to someone's heart.

Would you guys believe me if I said this is my first time actually writing a self insert? I always went with 'x readers', so this is very new for me. I'm still not sure on how to feel about this, it's so... so self-indulgent. Almost too much.

Moon had a date. It was a surprising thing to say, especially from the man’s perspective. He wasn’t one to flirt with strangers, ask for numbers, invite out for drinks or a nice dinner. His ideal date, if he had to choose, would have been to drive out of town, stop somewhere far from any sign of civilization, smoke a blunt, listen to the radio, and stargaze on a patch of grass with someone at his side. The fact that for both him and Sun it was a common way to unwind on the weekends from the stress of their two jobs—one definitely more stressful than the other, although which was which changed depending on who you asked—didn’t matter. Moon liked a routine, he liked the comfort that nature brought him, he liked to stop by the drive-through at 2 a.m. after coming back into town.

He didn’t ask out on dates, not if the other person expected him to pick them up at their house and take them out for dinner in a fancy restaurant, dressed nice and clean, but many things of his beloved routine had changed when that damned woman had stepped into the arcade just the week before.

He didn’t have the pleasure to meet her until the day after, when she had spontaneously come to him after meeting Sun. The curly-haired man had warned him beforehand, telling Moon to be careful, to be patient, to keep his cool and not give away anything that could incriminate them, as if he was stupid enough to snitch on himself in front of a cop.

The woman was short, her hair were long and straight, and they were of a faded red shade that almost looked natural—hadn’t it been for the few fiery locks still peeking out near the ends, proof of a long faded home-made dye, and the brown roots on top of her head. Her eyes were dark, her lips tinted red, and she was wearing black dress pants that matched the dark coat covering her white button-up. Her shoes seemed comfortable, easy to run in despite the short heel that clicked against the carpeted floor of the arcade, and even the pants tightening around her hips and thighs before falling loose down her calves must have been made with a stretchy and soft material, if the swift way she walked gave Sun any hints. The woman looked like she was ready to run if the situation required it, but at the same time, she was put-together and confident, like someone heading to their 9-to-5. She was too young to be a mother there to schedule a birthday party for her kid, too old to be a college student, and Sun couldn’t figure out why she had entered his arcade, and neither where he had seen her face before.

When she came closer—polite but cold smile, sharp eyes that looked so cruel on those soft features, cupid bow enhanced by the matte lipstick—Sun’s eyes dropped on the mole under her lips, then to the second one on her cleavage slightly exposed by the undone first two buttons of her shirt.

Her eyes darted around the arcade entrance, skimming over posters, carpet and walls, stopping on Sun and focusing on his face like a predator setting their sight on prey. Her cold look didn’t seem to soften despite the bright smile the man tried to offer her.

“Hi and welcome, miss!” he cheerfully began, resting both his palms on the top of the counter. “How can I help you?”

“Hi,” she spoke to him, voice clear and feminine. Sun was sure he had seen her somewhere. Maybe on the TV? “My name is Bianca Lazarus, from the Hurricane Police Department. Do you have a moment?”

Blood froze in Sun’s veins, turning icy and hard inside his still body. A shiver ran up his spine, goosebumps rose on the skin of his arms and shoulders, and his smile strained at the edges in a terrible attempt not to make it drop. Whatever he had eaten for breakfast that morning was stirring in his guts like a petulant child, complaining and bothering him with the promise of a future stomach ache, and it took him a lot of strength not to wince and double over himself after hearing those words.

“How may I help you, officer?” he gasped out, leaning further over the counter in a mock of serenity. His hoop earrings winked at the cop, bringing her attention to them, enticing her eyes to move down his neck, sweater, arms and then hands, seeking for any detail available to be studied by her hawk-like gaze. Sun wondered if there was any possibility he still had blood dried under his fingernails, despite the fact he had cleaned himself thoroughly after the night before. The need to look down and confirm scratched at him with intensity, screaming in his ears to sneak a glance at the nearest reflective surface to check himself for any hint of… something. Speaking of his hands, when did he start tapping his fingers against the brightly colored wooden counter? He forced the movement to cease, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins requested him to move, to do something, to walk and pace around the room. Soon enough, his heel was tapping the floor in a rhythmic pattern.

“I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions—if you have the time to talk, that is,” the woman replied, faking politeness in a clear attempt to see if Sun was going to refuse speaking to her. Just then he realized the lack of a uniform suggested that the woman was not just a cop, but rather a detective, and his nervousness reached peaks impressive even for a guy like him.

“I have all the time in the world, officer!” he replied, attempting to look more welcoming and open despite his tense back. “I just opened for the morning, so I doubt any client will come to interrupt us at this hour.”

“I know,” the detective replied, finally giving Sun the time to breathe when her eyes moved to peek at the arcade unfolding behind him, like hoping to catch the sight of his other coworker, but her attention snapped back to Sun’s face when she heard the slightest groan leave his exaggerated smile.

Was she attempting to count each of his freckles? What reason brought the woman to his arcade? Was there a possibility they had left something behind, the night before? A hint, proof of their presence, or maybe an unknown witness?

“So! What kind of questions do you have to ask to little old me?” he tried to push for answers without making it seem like he was getting impatient, even if the urge to just end the conversation right there and deal with his new walking problem was beginning to rise from his guts and settle in his hands. No one would have noticed, no one would have walked through the doors for another hour—client or employee. Sun had time, an opportunity, and a perfectly good reason! Protecting his and Moon’s lives was important enough to demand drastic solutions!

“May I begin with your name, sir?” she asked, bringing out a notebook and pen from the pocket of her jacket, opening it to a clear page near the end. The click of the pen echoing loud in the arcade, ready to spell Sun’s demise with accurate strokes of ink and the snapping sounds of a clock. Click, click, click. Their time was running out.

“Call me Sun,” he answered, and the detective’s eyes slowly rose up from her page, looking softer with perplexity.

“Sun?” she repeated, “Like… our star?”

“Yep!” he let the ‘p’ pop in his mouth, a sharp comment ready to strike if the other had dared to comment more on his name. Slowly, Bianca’s ring-clad fingers began to write on the paper without having her eyes follow the movement, and the sound of the swift scribbling spoke of acceptance.

“So, you’re the owner of this arcade, yes?” she started again, slightly relaxing at his cooperation. That was a good sign, in Sun’s agenda.

“I sure am! Along with my friend Moon, of course. We’ve both been running this place for quite some time.” Sun was aware that, after that comment, that woman was going to ask to talk to Moon as well, but lying about being the sole owner when she could really easily check into it and find out alone the truth would have brought more problems.

“Your friend’s name… is Moon?” she asked with that baffled expression all over again. Did she think they were making fun of her? Probably.

“Best friend! Known each other since we were kids, we’re closer than two peas in a pod,” he nodded along, eyes stabbing daggers in every organ, slashing tendons, carving wounds on soft skin. “Is there something wrong, officer?”

A pause, then she shook her head. “No problem at all. May I ask if Moon is here today?”

“He’s not, unfortunately.” Finally something he could lie about! “He’s running a commission for me, but he’ll be back at any moment, I’m sure.”

Truth be told, Moon was napping on the couch in the break room, a few doors behind Sun, but he probably wasn’t going to wake up before an hour or two. That meant Sun had some time to get rid of the detective pestering him with questions.

With an affirmative ‘mhm’, the woman began searching through a bag at her side Sun hadn’t noticed before, some locks of hair slipping down to cover her eyes and cheeks and hide her poker face from view.

“I was wondering if you knew a man called Peter Manger, 57 years old, plumber?”

Sun’s hands twitched with the need to close around something—a knife, a bat, a wrist or throat.

“Not really familiar, no,” he lied through his teeth, long neck extending to take a peek at whatever the detective was searching for. “Why? Is he a wanted man?”

“He was, up until this morning.” Finally, the detective finally straightened her back, and Sun snapped back into place behind the counter, chin resting on his palms and a wide smile opening on his lips. His bright blue eyes drifted down to what the woman was holding; a couple of pictures, each between two fingers of her hand. “A fisherman found him floating face down in a lake outside the city, as you can see.”

She laid the two pictures on the counter, where Sun could look at them better, and the killer didn’t even have to pretend to be disgusted. Anyone would have looked that terrible after being left soaking for a week in the company of aquatic animals, naked and defenseless like a stillborn calf. Sun winced, looking to the side for a moment, then his eyes landed again on the puffy, greyish face of the man, who had his empty and milky eyes up and staring at the camera, while his mouth was left open in a gasp for air, like he had been deprived of oxygen in his last moments. Of course, that wasn’t the cause of death, but instead it was clearly the large gash opening on Peter’s neck which declared his death. The cut was bold, deep, going from one ear to the other, like how people did with pigs during slaughter. Sun didn’t look at the second picture, but he already knew it was a detail of the man’s bare ankles, which sported purple rings of bruises where Moon had wrapped the rope to hang him upside-down. Before killing their victim in a nearby barn they had found some time before, Moon had asked Sun to give him the opportunity to try something new, a technique he had seen in one of his horrible movies a few nights before, and when Sun had uncertainty agreed, the other killer had hung the man from a hook dangling from the roof of the barn, then he had placed a bucket under their victim, who was screaming and crying around his gag, and he had lastly cut his throat so as to collect all the blood dripping from the dying body. Crimson rivulets stained the sides of the man’s face, and Sun could remember looking at his partner in crime with disappointment. It would have taken a long time to exsanguinate the poor bastard, and they didn’t have more than a few hours! Plus, it was disgusting seeing the body jerking around while hanging from the rope, muscles twitching in the violent aftermath.

In the end, they had brought the body to a lake and dumped him inside, but not after emptying the blood collected so far in the water. They knew the police would have found the body someday, but they had been careful not to leave any traces. They surely hadn’t expected them to immediately go visit their arcade the morning after the discovery!

“That’s disgusting!” Sun jerked back, retracting his hands from the counter as if the pictures of the corpse could contaminate him with the sole proximity. “Why did you have to show me that?!”

The woman shrugged, collecting the photo of the swollen and bruised ankles.

“This is all I have at the moment to help you identify the victim. Is he familiar now?” she pressed on, and Sun had to force his already consumed breakfast down his own throat.

“Yes—Yes, he is. I’ve seen him a couple of times here,” he confessed the truth, “But I didn’t know his name.” Followed by another lie. Satisfied, the detective hummed, taking the second picture as well and putting both back into her bag, then proceeded to note everything down in her book.

“I’m guessing he often brought his son here?” she asked, taking a step closer, almost entering Sun’s personal space from the opposite side of the counter, and in her piqued interest the man saw an opportunity. Maybe she wasn’t going after them to incriminate them, but instead was just looking for information! If that was the case, then he had to keep his cool and look shocked, but also partly curious about the happening. It wouldn’t have been the first body found in the premises of the city, after all, and in the role of the innocent citizen, Sun was expected to be concerned just enough about the topic.

“You’re guessing right! Poor little Henry, what a sorry situation,” he sighed, pretending to look deep in thoughts as he stared up at the ceiling. He was preparing to cast the hook, hoping the detective would bite. “First the alcohol, and now this. His father really knew how to break a boy’s little heart, may he rest in peace.”

As expected, Bianca saw the bait, and she bit it with all the strength of her maw. Dark brown eyes widened in something akin to excitement.

“Peter Manger had a drinking problem?” she asked, hands coming to rest on the colorful counter as she leaned closer, almost hypnotized by the man’s icy blue eyes. Sun had to stop himself from grinning.

“Yes, a huge one too!” he leaned in, whispering as if the two were sharing a secret. “I’m fairly sure he gambled too, if what I heard is true. Wouldn’t be surprised if he pissed off someone a little… prone to roughness, if you catch my drift.”

Oh, he was definitely going to spread those rumors around the next time he went to one of Chica’s classes! Peter Manger had already been a hated and despicable man, so Sun had no problem with spitting on his grave. Despite his suggestion, the detective didn’t seem to be too eager to get caught up in the gossip, instead zoning out as she took a step back and flexed her fingers.

“I’ll need to look into the local organizations,” she hummed to herself, and Sun caught the chance to chit-chat a bit with the detective.

“New in town?” he asked, arms folding over his chest as he leaned with his hip against the counter. With his back kept straight, the woman looked so much smaller than him. What was she, 5’3? “Never seen you before, when the first bodies had been found.”

The question seemed to have caught her off guard, and the detective stuttered for a moment, blinking to regain focus on her interlocutor.

“I… Ah, yes, I come from… another district,” she explained, sounding lost.

“Which one?” Sun followed with another question, enjoying the way she seemed to crack under the sudden pressure. His new friend had lost the upper hand in the conversation.

Another pause. “I’m from Vernal.”

“And what convinced you to move here, officer? I’m sure there’s far more crime to fight in a city double the size of Hurricane.” Sun’s grin widened. If she wished to go around and bother him with questions, then he could also play the same game.

Probably having noticed the man’s amusement, Bianca straightened her back, attempting to look as intimidating as she did the first time she walked into the arcade.

“That’s none of your business, sir,” she spat, taking a defensive step back from the counter. Finally, that was his chance to get rid of the officer.

“Oh, sorry, did I go too far?” Sun cooed, a dangerous look shining down on her. “Making someone as pretty as you uncomfortable is the last of my wishes.”

The killer wasn’t sure why he had thrown in that compliment. It wasn’t planned, he didn’t mean to call her ‘pretty’, there was no intent behind it. And yet, the consequences of that simple action made an idea shine in his mind.

It all started with that rosy dust spreading over the woman’s cheeks, brightening them with color and life, softening her eyes and making her brows knit together. Shying away, closing herself in her shoulders, Bianca looked down at the floor, blushing visibly at the random compliment.

“Y-You’ve been very useful so far,” she spoke, trying her best at keeping her composure, and Sun’s mouth opened in surprise at the display. “I’ll return if I have any more questions you could… help me with.”

She had grown red all over her neck and face at something Sun had said, unable to control how her body reacted to his voice. It couldn’t just be his impression, right? There was no way he could have imagined it, not with how she was avoiding eye contact as she began to stuff her notebook and pen back into her pockets. She had blushed, and what Sun had taken from that detail was that he had power over her, she could be conquered, she could be controlled. If Sun chose his words carefully, he could gain access to a precious source of classified information.

He just needed to make that little detective fall head over heels for him.

“Oh, please, do!” he found himself screaming at the woman who was hurriedly leaving his arcade, “Talking to you’s been lovely!”

Sun had never tried to flirt with a cop before, but despite his defeating lack of experience, he refused to back down. It was too good of an opportunity to miss.

The following days were a total mess. Sun had caught sight of the home-made redhead a couple of times during his week, but not once did the detective enter his arcade, choosing instead to hover around him as he went on with his daily routine. So far, Sun had seen her shopping at the 24-hours near his house two times, joining his same yoga class, and even ordering at their favourite pizza place! There was no way she really was stalking them all the way to Freddy’s, that was borderline illegal! Well, each time Sun tried to strike up a conversation—so, every single time he saw her, basically—she always had an answer ready.

“I live nearby.”

“I’m just trying to stay fit.”

“I burnt my dinner.”

How mature of her. Yet, Sun had to admit, it gave him lots of opportunities to shoot his shot, throwing mild compliments her way and finding joy in the way she turned beetroot red each time he praised her hair, her eyes, or her outfits. She was either going to give up following him around due to embarrassment, or she was going to fall into Sun’s trap, there was no other option. The man had complete faith in the relationship tips given by the magazines he had bought. Of course, he had roped Moon into it as well, especially considering the fact that his friend had already reported seeing the detective eyeing him from inside a parked car outside their arcade. With the both of them working to sneak their way under the woman’s defenses, there were higher chances of success, right? Initially, Moon had refused.

“I’m not going to flirt with a cop,” he had answered, deadpanned, while laying on the couch in front of the TV.

“But this might be our chance to get ahold of classified information about our case!” Sun had replied, bringing out the leftovers from the fridge so he could reheat them. The beeping of the microwave had spelled a moment of pause between the two.

“Can’t you just do that alone?” Moon had asked, scoffing and changing channels.

“We’ve been sharing everything since we were kids, Moon,” Sun had reminded him, leaning against the wall and staring at his partner in crime on the couch. “Why not this time?”

Moon had pushed himself up on his elbows to give Sun an unimpressed look.

“Is this your way to get back at me for using your toothbrush?” he had wondered, and Sun had looked at the ceiling with interest, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Maybe.”

With a sigh, Moon had laid back down, ready to return to rotting on the couch, but Sun had refused to let him ignore him for long.

“How about we turn this into a game?” he had offered, knowing well that Moon wasn’t one to turn down something as tempting as a game. “The first who manages to bring her out on a date wins.”

As expected, Moon had brought his attention back on Sun, eyebrows rising up in glee.

“And what’s the prize?” he had asked, and Sun had winced.

“The loser will have to clean the play structures for a week,” he had allowed. What did he have to worry about, though? Moon hadn’t even talked to Bianca yet! The odds were on his side.

“Challenge accepted,” Moon had smiled, returning to lay down.

Since their conversation, Sun’s attempts at flirting with the detective had doubled, to the point the woman had begun to blush just at his sight alone. Was it a good sign? Sun wasn’t sure, many times he had approached her with a plan in his mind just to back down at the last minute and end up doing casual chit-chat with the woman. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure he was ‘flirting’ anymore, he would just show up earlier to his yoga class to talk with Bianca, then stay late for the same reason, talking about the most random things and hoping his jokes and compliments could help him score some points. He refused to simply go up to her and ask her out, he was a gentleman, after all! Sun wanted to make sure she was comfortable in his presence before attempting to take things further.

Sometimes he would ask her how the case was proceeding, and each time she replied with a simple and straightforward: “Things are going well,” and every time she did Sun would deflate in disappointment. The murders were the entire reason why he had begun going after her! It didn’t matter if seeing her occasional smile made him feel weird, or if he liked breathing in the scent of her shampoo when he was close enough to her hair, or if he often struggled to tear his eyes away from her lips when she talked—he just liked the shade of her lipstick, okay? There was nothing weird behind it, he simply often wondered how many times she had to go out and buy a new one of the same exact shade to afford wearing it every day.

Sun had begun to actually look forward to seeing Bianca, hoping to run into her while doing his commissions, so he was very surprised when Moon had told him they were going out on a date, that Saturday. At first, Sun had thought he was just messing with him, but his friend had spoken with complete seriousness.

Moon had a date. Moon, who had talked to her a maximum of three times, had a date with Bianca—and not him.

He wasn’t jealous.

☆

Moon was sitting on the cushioned cubicle in the corner of the bar, tapping his fingers against the wooden table and occasionally chipping the dark nail polish on his nails. He had come early simply to get out of the house and escape Sun, who seemed to be more excited for the date than Moon. The curly-haired man had been fretting over his friend’s outfit, trying to talk him into wearing something nicer than the usual hoodie, but Moon had insisted on dressing comfortably.

“Hands off, I’ll be late!” he had grumbled, dodging another one of Sun’s “attacks”.

“Girls go crazy for leather jackets!” the other man had tried to reason with his friend, who had refused.

“It’s too hot for that, also, where did you read that? In one of those stupid magazines?” Moon had teased him, and Sun had turned bright red with shame. ”Sun, Bianca is not fourteen.”

Moon had lastly managed to slip out of the house free from Sun’s talons, but his date was nowhere to be seen, and the dark-haired man felt his irritation increasing with each tick of his watch.

He had no real reason to be on a date, he just wanted to piss off Sun a bit, but he was growing restless and nervous. Did Bianca forget? Or did she find out something about them? Was she far smarter than they thought, had she figured out everything from the very start?

The door opened, revealing a red-clad figure standing in the doorway, and the second Moon looked in her direction, a set of dark eyes set on him with relief. Bianca was wearing a simple maroon short dress with simple heels, something comfortable and open in the back so she wouldn’t suffer due to the summer night heat, and the shade complimented her usual lipstick and hair. Was it weird for a grown woman to be so obsessed with a color? At least, Moon noted, the heels were black.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, rushing to her date’s table and sitting down in front of him, but not before throwing her black jacket over her chair. “I couldn’t find this place anywhere, I must have looked like a fucking idiot walking into seven different bars in the span of five minutes.”

“Or a drunkard,” Moon hilariously suggested, and the woman rolled her eyes with a slight laugh.

“Ah-ah, yeah, that too,” she allowed, immediately regaining her usual composed demeanor in the blink of an eye. Moon could bet she had been part of some kind of drama club when she was younger, with the amount of control she had over her facial expressions. “A-Anyway, you called me here to discuss something important, correct?”

“What’s with the leather jacket?” Moon asked, changing the topic in the blink of an eye, successfully managing to confuse the detective for a moment.

“The…? Oh! I just thought it was probably going to be a little chilly by the time we leave,” she explained, a polite smile peeking through her mask. “So, about the Manger case…”

Moon looked to the side, focusing his attention on the bar, and searched for a waiter with his eyes.

“Sure, but how about we order something first?” he suggested, “Hungry? Or do you want to start with a drink?”

“Oh, no, it’s better if I don’t drink tonight,” Bianca tried to refuse, but Moon sent her a questioning look, and her cold facade melted down. “I… I drove here.”

“You mentioned living near me and Sun, right?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then, it’s just a ten minute walk. Why did you take the car?”

The lie fell apart right in front of her eyes, and the detective found herself opening her mouth without being able to utter a word.

“I’d just prefer not to drink, while discussing such delicate topics.” She was clenching her fists on the table, and the killer’s eyes darted from her face to her hands.

“It’s fine if you don’t like alcohol, you know?" Moon giggled, and a slight flush spread over her cheeks.

“…I’m a lightweight,” she murmured, and the man finally grinned in victory. He got her to admit the truth, and the feeling was almost exhilarating. “Look, over the phone you told me you had some new information about Peter Manger, and that’s what I’m here for.”

“Yeah, I did say that,” Moon played with a dark stain left on the table by a cigarette, chipping the burnt wood with his thumbnail. “I might have used it as an excuse to invite you out for a drink. Maybe.”

He offered the woman an apologetic smile, but was rewarded only with an half-open mouth and blinking offended eyes, then, by a scoff.

“I can’t believe this!” she protested, rising up from her seat in shock. “This is a serious matter, Moon! You can’t just go around claiming to know something about a murder! Especially if Sun’s right about the gang affiliations, and—!” With a growl, she sat back down, covering her face with her hands in irritation. When she looked back at him, Moon saw some smudged mascara around her right eye, making her look like half a panda.

“How about we just enjoy the night we have ahead?” he offered with a smile, but the woman didn’t look impressed. “Look, I might have lied, but you can’t say I’m wasting your time. What were you even going to do, alone in your apartment, all night?”

“Researches,” she answered, arms crossed under her chest. “About the murder that took place in this town. You know, the one that caused the death of a man? The one with the killer still on the loose?”

“There are thousands of killers on the loose in the United States,” Moon replied, causing Bianca to roll her eyes again.

“If you’re going to say ‘What’s one more?’ I’m going to arrest you,” she threatened, but despite her angry demeanor, Moon noted that she hadn’t yet left the table. She could have walked out anytime, but chose to stay for the banter.

“Unfortunately for you, breaking free from handcuffs is one of my many secret talents,” Moon laughed, leaning back against his seat, and the detective scoffed.

“I won’t ask how you learned that.” Another small smile was peeking through, and Moon found himself grinning at the sight, entertained by the silent challenge of attempting to make the woman laugh. He considered the way she was humoring him a green light to actually get to the fun part of the date.

“So, what made you choose to become a police officer?” he began to ask, ready to tease the detective as much as he was allowed to do before she actually arrested him. “Any unresolved issues with daddy back when you were younger? A savior complex?”

Finally, a laugh—short and loud, but a laugh.

“I think your career choice is much more interesting,” Bianca dodged the question with ease. “Why an arcade?”

“Maybe I’m just a person who likes to have fun,” Moon decided to stay vague as well, playing with her like a predator with his food.

“And what do you do for fun?” she asked, placing her elbows on the table and leaning towards him, a shine in her eyes, and the killer shivered with glee under the intense stare. Adrenaline was so addictive.

“Hunting.” He hoped she would take the bait.

“You got the permit for the firearm?” the detective asked, and Moon’s grin widened sharply.

“I never mentioned any firearm.”

Bianca looked confused for a second, her brows furrowed, and she ducked her head to the side.

“How do you hunt without one?” she questioned, and Moon lowered his voice to something akin to a purr.

“Just gotta be smarter, stronger, faster—overall better than your prey,” Sun would have scoffed at his words, knowing well what he was hinting at. “But this is probably something people of your kind are not really used to, mhm?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, eyes already warning him to watch his big mouth.

“You shoot on sight. If it moves, it’s dead, no matter the species. Tell me, where’s the thrill of the chase in that?” he asked, nodding in the direction of her hip, where her gun would have rested, had she been wearing her work uniform.

“It’s not for the thrill I began doing this job!” she protested, and it was Moon’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Well, it’s surely why I began mine.”

A slight slip of the tongue, a quick reference, that was everything Bianca needed to immediately seize her prey by the throat—even though she was far from hunting down a prey, and was instead more akin to a fox facing a wolf twice her size.

“Which kind of job are we talking about, now? What are you chasing down in your little arcade?” she teased, hoping for Moon to slip once more, to say something else that would incriminate him.

“Snooping bastards who love to stick their noses in dangerous places,” he barked back, and just then the woman leaned back against her seat.

“Should I take this as a threat?” she asked, tone whispered, and the man laughed.

“I don’t know—did I scare you enough? Do you want me to keep going?” He watched her expression twist in an attempt to hide the effect he was having on her, then she stood up, fixing the short skirt of her dress, eyes roaming the length of the bar. Many more people had walked in while the two started talking, and now the bartender was almost invisible behind the amount of customers crowding around him.

“I’m getting a drink,” she declared, and Moon sighed with fake disappointment.

“And here I thought you’d be down to indulge me in a little game of cat and mouse.” As soon as he spoke, Bianca slammed her hand down on the table right in front of him, leaning over him and casting him in her shadow, and a sharp smile opened her red lips.

“How about, while I’m away, you think about another game we could play, Moonie?” she purred, standing back up at full height. “This time, make an attempt at surprising me, ‘cause up until now you only proved to be exactly as I pictured you to be.”

After her words, she left, turning her bare back to Moon and leaving the man in stunned silence, satisfied with her answer after having been the victim of his teasing all night. His eyes followed her as she walked, lips curling up when he noticed a small detail of her attire—her dress wasn’t zipped all the way up, meaning that not only she had probably left her house in a hurry, but she likely lived alone, with no one to help her get dressed. Moon wondered how weird it would have been if he offered to finish the job. Would she refuse? Thank him, not thinking too much of it? Or would she turn red like her hair? The idea was tempting, but the killer quickly returned to reality when he saw Bianca running back to their table, eyes wide, proceeding to collect her jacket and bag faster than Moon could ask for an explanation.

“H-How about we go somewhere else?” she asked, visibly shaken, and Moon looked back at the bar with a questioning look. What had happened in the span of a few seconds? “This place is nice, but I know another bar further down the street which is simply amazing, we could order mozzarella sticks, a-and…”

“What’s wrong?” Moon asked, darting his eyes from Bianca to the people around them, finding a blond-haired man staring back at him with curiosity mixed with off-putting amusement. Moon’s brows furrowed, and apparently that convinced the other man to stand up from his table and walk their way, a smile spreading on his round face without actually brightening his gray eyes.

“Bianca!” the man laughed, arms opening like inviting her to hug him, but the woman stayed still with panic, stare focusing on her shaking hands.

The man was shorter than Moon by an entire foot, his body was thicker with muscles and fat, and his thick neck reminded the killer of a bull. He and Sun had murdered men stronger than the guy, so Moon didn’t react at the sight of the newcomer grabbing a chair from a nearby empty table to sit with them, but worry caused his expression to darken when he saw how Bianca seemed to sit back down on her chair with defeat.

“Hi, Dave,” she replied, jacket slipping from her hold and into her lap.

“Didn’t know you lived around here!” Dave ignored her nervousness, turning to face Moon, “Is this your new man? Randy didn’t tell me you were seeing someone else.”

Moon felt irrational animosity rising in his chest, and he found that every little action of this Dave irritated him greatly.

“The last time I’ve seen Randy was four years ago,” Bianca dryly replied, but somehow her answer made Dave laugh like a maniac.

“Wait, aren’t you the clow— co-owner of that arcade? The one near the candy shop?” he asked Moon, pearly whites splitting thin lips into a wide grin. Moon smiled too in response, seeing the man’s confidence waver at the sight of his sharp teeth.

“Yeah, and no, I’m not her man,” he spit out like the words tasted bitter on his tongue, “How do you know Bianca, anyway?” Moon usually would have simply growled at the man to turn his ass around and leave them alone, but something in the woman’s panicking eyes told him to dig deeper, that there was something Bianca was trying to hide—especially considering how she opened her mouth to object after his question, but Dave was faster.

“Oh, we used to go to the same academy!” Dave brightly replied, happy to let Moon know that he too was a cop, tapping on his pocket, where he probably kept his badge. A rumbling laugh shook the man’s chest once more. “Ah! She wasn’t cut for the job, probably the worst cadet in the school. I remember Vanessa wiping the floor with your face each time you two got paired to train together!”

Bianca lowered her face to the table, color draining from her face and making her look paler, sick, younger than she probably was. Dave’s words brought back old shame, carrying with them the same derisive and mocking tone. Red lipstick only enhanced her pallor.

“The only time I actually saw her running like she should have was when she was being chased down, and dude, trust me when I say it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” Dave persisted, turning his grin towards Bianca’s stone mask. “I always thought you were more cut to do brain work, it’s a good thing you decided to drop out and become a journalist, you look better on the screen than in a uniform.”

Moon faced Bianca, who had turned to something barely different than a ceramic doll.

“A journalist,” Moon repeated, incredulous, and he swore he saw her lower lip tremble, but Dave had already moved on from the subject. He poked Bianca’s arm, like trying to wake her up from her coma.

“You were already small, but you’ve gotten even skinnier since then. Did you stop working out entirely?” he asked, and at the third poke, Moon grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand away from Bianca. Dave froze, looking at Moon with a sudden blank expression.

“Is something wrong, dude?” he asked, and Moon considered breaking his wrist at that exact moment.

“…No,” he lied, moving back to sit down again, still not letting go of him. “But you interrupted a private conversation, dude.”

It didn’t take too long for Dave to return to his table, mumbling excuses about his sudden departure to his friends, eyes flickering in Moon’s direction with unease, and finally the killer was able to turn his gaze at Bianca without the annoying voice of the man chiming in his ears. Moon waited for her to start speaking, and eventually she released a trembling breath with the same resigned expression of someone about to rip a band-aid off from a wound that had yet to be healed.

“Please, don’t report me to the police,” she begged, brown eyes framed by bleeding mascara, “I only wanted information, I would have never mentioned you or Sun in my articles, I just…!”

“So, you’re not a police officer, and neither a detective,” Moon clarified, and Bianca nodded.

“I just pretended to be one because some people tend to give out info more easily when dealing with cops, and…” she looked to the side, looking slightly ashamed, “And Sun looked like the kind of person that would grow uneasy around a police officer.”

“So, you pretended to be a detective to intimidate Sun?” Moon asked, and she nodded in confirmation, causing Moon to bark out a laugh. Unbeknown to her, Bianca had risked her own life by introducing herself as a police officer to two serial killers, and that amused Moon to no end. How close they had been to murdering her! She had no idea of the danger she had been in. “You have guts, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re… you’re not mad?” she asked, unsure, and Moon chuckled.

“If you wanna pretend to be a cop, then go ahead, I won’t stop you,” Moon smiled, and Bianca felt her lips turning upwards, “But it’s your ass on the line.”

The red-head raised her head to look around the bar, scrutinizing the place as if to search for anyone else she might know from the academy, then she stood up from her chair once more with newfound confidence.

“I don’t like this place anymore, let’s leave,” she said, and Moon already knew what she was hinting at.

“And go where?” he asked, standing up as well.

"Somewhere where I can get wasted. Do you know a place?” Her grin was wide and pleased, but the shadows left by her mascara still clouded around her eyes. Moon pretended to think for a moment, even though he had already decided where to take her.

“First round’s on me, but only if you promise to tell me why you enrolled at an academy in the first place.” They left the table, walking side by side and completely ignoring the man who was still staring at them both.

“I just thought I could do some good, but reality is… different from what I expected it to be.” She shrugged, clearly ready to change the topic. “Anyway, I’m glad I left. All the other recruits turned out to be assholes.”

The door closed behind them, the faint ring of the entrance all that remained of their presence, and the night swallowed the two figures like a hungry predator seeking some way to sedate its craving. Words, jokes and laughs were exchanged, over drinks, over snacks, over a shared blunt while sitting on the grass, and when an hour turned into two, then three, then four, Moon remembered that he was supposed to call Sun and update him about the date, but lastly decided against it, shrugging and slipping his phone in the pocket of his jeans without a care. Sun could think what he wanted, the night was still young, and the two had a lot to talk about, after the barrier created by her fake job had been lifted. Turns out, talking to a woman is much easier than talking to a cop.

I'm going to go die in a hole now. Don't mind me.

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