CW: coroner examination, blood, injury mention, mention of murder, harassment and stalking mention, body description
Civilian tried not to throw up as he lifted the sheet. Not because of the purple hue of livor mortis, all the blood long pooled to the victim's back and the heels of their feet, nor because of the 23 violent stab wounds littering their gut, insides now nothing more than a gooey, shredded mess. No, the real reason he felt so nauseous was the victim's face. He knew that face. In fact, he’d seen it only yesterday when it ambushed him outside his office. Sneering, too close, the hot, floral stench of their breath on his cheek.
“I wasn’t aware they died,” Civilian said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.
“Hasn't hit the news yet,” the chief police officer said. It figured they'd send the boss to deliver the remains on such a sensitive murder case. “Imagine the headline: Superhero Murdered: Killer Unknown and At Large.” It will be an uproar. Superhero was supposed to be the most powerful person alive, if it gets out that someone took them out... The public is going to panic. Not to mention all the villains who might make an attempt on the city without the opposition. I don't even want to think about Supervillain."
Civilian saw the implication in the officer's hard, over-the-glasses stare.
"I'm not going to tell anyone," he said dryly. "That would be unprofessional in any case. Being a hero doesn't change anything."
"Of course," the chief said, probably also hiding his real emotions. The police force's backbone had shattered and crumbled a long time ago. Probably the day Superhero came to the city and took control. None of them were equipped to deal with the type of criminals that narcissist had been keeping at bay. "So. Besides the obvious. How do you think...this...er...came about?"
Civilian turned to his tray of tools, straightening the knives, saws and forceps into even rows. "I need to give a full autopsy before I can give any cause of death."
"Ok, just give me a surface-level first impression then. "
Civilian sighed. "Didn't you have a medical examiner at the scene?"
"I've heard you're better."
Civilian really just felt like collapsing on the ground and breaking down. To get this confusing rush of relief and guilt under control. However, he had a sneaking suspicion that the chief wasn't going anywhere until he got something. Civilian tried not to feel too discouraged that the force was in a low enough place to be relying on him for leads.
He walked around to the other side of the table, gluing his eyes to the wounds instead of the face. If he could pretend this was just any other body, he would be fine.
"I mean, the stab wounds are a start. 23. That's an excessive amount. So it was personal. It's entirely possible it's no deeper than that. Someone got mad, and...bam."
"I could have told you that,” the officer said, index finger stuttering rapidly against his belt. “The question is how? If none of Superhero's enemies could kill them in the past, how did they do it now? The crime scene didn't even show a significant struggle."
Civilian rolled his eyes. Superhero wasn't a god. Just because they were big and powerful and felt like they could dominate everything and everyone around them, didn't mean they were perfect. Just because no one knew how to stop him didn’t mean there was never a way. At least…they’d always hoped there was a way.
"No need to be testy,” he said. “I’m just doing what you asked. Like I said, I need a full autopsy to know if there were drugs or other substances in their system at the time of death. Something like that could have slowed them down long enough to be attacked. Or perhaps, it was the drugs that killed them and the stabbing came later to cover it up.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know, scare tactic? I’m just spitballing. But if I could get to work…”
He motioned as politely as he could toward the door.
“Alright,” the officer said a little tightly, but he still offered Civilian a short nod before striding out of the room. Like always, the large, metal door slammed a little too hard when dropped.
Civilian collapsed immediately.
He barely caught himself in a low crouch, fingers spread flat against the cold tile. His breath came too hard and too fast, but now that the need to regulate his emotions was gone, he couldn’t seem to calm down. He hoped no one else would walk in. He didn't know how he would explain this. The best cover he could come up with was that he was afraid for the future with Superhero gone, but it would be dangerously awkward if anyone happened to hear the lie in his voice.
He honestly didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. Was it awful that he couldn’t bring himself to be sad? Superhero was a human being, someone he’d known personally, shouldn’t he feel some sort of sympathy?
Then there was the awful fact that he’d sort of wished it would happen. Every day that that monster trailed him like a lingering nightmare, in front of his workplace, outside his house, in his favorite stores, he’d wished that something might happen to them. If the law wouldn’t take care of it, then maybe one of their many fights would end badly. Or maybe a tragic accident might occur: struck dead in a lightning storm, broken neck in the shower, anything.
But Superhero had always been blessed.
Civilian slowly uprighted himself. Guilty or not, he had a job to do. And if he didn’t want the police back down his throat, he should get started.
With a deep breath, he clicked the red button on his voice recorder.
"January 5th, 5:40 p.m., Superhero. Subject has 23 abdominal stab wounds, just below their ribs. No sign of further bruising or injury on any other part of the body." They held their magnifying lense up to the corpse's blue nails. "Not even any skin beneath the fingernails to indicate a struggle."
Civilian was relieved when they finished the external part of the examination and could get started with the internal. No need to look at the horrible familiarity of their smug jawline and forceful hands. Not only were insides less unique, but they'd carved a body so many times they could do it in their sleep, in fact, with all the inner turmoil roiling inside, the familiar monotony of the procedure was sort of relaxing. An incision here, and incision there, open up the chest cavity, remove the organs, check the weight, take some samples, bag them up, and... What was that?
Civilian squinted at the right bottom rib, smooth bone interrupted by a few jagged markings engraved large across the center. As he leaned in closer to the chest cavity, markings became letters.
Civilian's stomach lurched.
"There....there seems to be a message carved into the subject's 12th rib, on the right side." They swallowed hard before saying the word aloud. "Stalker. Along with um…I think that’s a lotus? But with...eyes."
The symbol was unsettling, a staring eyeball carved onto each petal and staring straight into Civilain's soul. Almost like...it knew...
Civilian paused the recording and took another moment to breathe. They needed to think. What was this? A brand? A message? But for who? They glanced back at the staring lotus, quickly swiping a smear of blood over it with their thumb to block it out. It only made it worse.
Did someone know what Superhero and him? He'd never told anyone. He didn't have anyone close enough to confide in personally, and Superhero had been too prominent a figure to go public. If anyone even believed him, he'd been much to afraid of what Superhero might do to him after the fact.
Was it a coincidence that one of the only people who could examine the body intimately enough to see its ribs was...him? It wasn't like he was the only coroner in the city. The body just happened to fall into his jurisdiction based on where it was found. So unless the killer lured Superhero somewhere nearby specifically so Civilian would be the one to-- No. No, that was ridiculous. They were too close, making this all about them. More likely, Superhero had stalked more than one person.
"Someone who wasn't too soft to bite back."
Civilian was used to being alone, but suddenly he felt nervous hearing his voice squeak out against the autopsy room's empty quiet.
He cleared his throat and hit play on his recorder. "I've never seen this symbol before, but it may be a hint to whoever did this. It's the only unnatural mark I see on the body so far, but I will keep an eye out during the rest of the examination."
Civilian blabbered numbly throughout the rest of the autopsy, doing his best to keep the tremor from voice. It was easy going through the motions, it was less easy trying to block out the surge of thoughts invading his mind. There were no other marks and no other clues as to how Superhero was overwhelmed. The contents of Supehero's stomach and blood would take some time to be tested, so as unhappy as it would probably make the police chief, the only lead he was going to be able to give him was that rib. Civilian managed to transfer his old nightmare into one of the freezers and make an appointment over the phone for the chief to come back in the morning, before locking up the office and starting the trek to the bus stop.
He had to admit, even with a powerful killer on the loose, it was one of the least stressful walks he'd had in over a year. At least he knew Superhero wasn't around any of these corners now, watching his every move from the shadows, crooning soft flatteries that Civilian forced queasy smiles to in case Superhero decided to get offended and unpleasant.
He shuddered, swallowing the instinctual bile that rose in his throat at such a familiar image.
It had been flattering at first, receiving attention from someone as big as Superhero. He was no one and Superhero had deigned to look in his direction. They picked him up from work. They worried about his safety. They called him every night to ask about his day. He'd felt special. That is until the red flags started popping up: the demands, the guilt trips, the complete and utter lack of boundaries. The calls became interrogations, the walks turned intrusive, and "no" became a meaningless word.
No. Civilian was not upset Superhero was dead, and if that made him bad person, so be it.
A bus ride later, he fumbled to unlock his front door, relieved that he now had the time to fumble. As he finally got the lock to ungum and swung the door open, a little piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Someone must have slid it halfway into the door's crack.
Civilian snatched it off the cement and stepped inside, already kicking off his shoes and sliding his bag to the floor as he flipped the paper over in his hand.
5 eyes stared straight back.
Civilian yelped, dropping the paper as if it were on fire.
It landed face-up on his hallway tile, gazing up from their respective lotus petals. Underneath penned in looping letters was an phone number.
Civilian rapidly slammed the deadbolt in place, racing to the living room window and peeking up and down the walk through the blinds. A couple passed by walking their dog, but nothing suspicious.
He took a deep breath and cautiously approached the little white square, forcing himself to pick it up by the corner.
He should report this. He didn't know how to handle this alone; his best chance was the police. But...how likely was it for the same symbol to be found on both the body and a note in his own home. And with Civilian's less than pleasant history with the victim... Wouldn't that make him a suspect? But, then again, if he didn't report it and anyone found out...that would be worse.
Not that the chances of anyone finding out were high. Civilian didn't have anyone to invite over, not since their trouble with Superhero prompted them to push everyone who could possibly be used as leverage away.
Civilian stuffed the note in his pocket and headed for the kitchen. He pushed the fear way, way down, and focused on boiling water for a too-rich cup of hot chocolate that made his eyes droop when he reached the last drops. He went upstairs, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into sweats and an old t-shirt. He was just about to throw the clothes into the laundry basket when he couldn't help but pull the note back out of his pants pocket.
He should have let it get damp and ruined in the wash. He should ignore it. Or throw put it back outside and pretend not to have sen it. He should not be sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling out his phone and preparing to call. But some part of him needed to know. Was there more than just him? Who were they? How did they do this? It wasn't like they didn't know where he lived already, so...
He punched in the phone number and listened with a tight stomach to the rings.
Civilian nearly dropped the phone at the sudden even tone. It was a woman. That much was obvious. He had been half expecting a voice changer like the criminals in the movies, but the biggest alteration to her voice was the static crackle of slightly bad connection.
"I...er...yes. Who is this?"
"A friend. At least I hope you'll come to consider me as such."
Her voice was smooth with an obvious effort to infuse some warmth to its natural chill. It reminded Civilian the thawing sheet of ice that coated the lake each spring.
Civilian shuddered. "I don't understand. Who are you? Why are you doing this? Did you kill Superhero? What do you want with me?"
It all spilled out in a jumbled panic they couldn’t stop. They felt sick and they probably should have hung up by now, but they had a distinct feeling that stopping now would only make them feel worse.
“Shhh,” the voice soothed. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything. Can we meet?”
“What?” Civilian choked incredulously. “No. No, I’m not meeting up with a killer!”
“It can be public. Anywhere you like. But if you’d rather not at all, I understand.”
What sort of a response was that? Was she really offering him an out? Did he really not have to do any of this? But what was the point of setting up this call then?
“You might want to talk? About what happened?”
“Superhero being murdered?”
Hy couldn’t think of anything he would like less to discuss with a killer than their own murders. It seemed sort of sick. Did Civilian seem like the sort of person who got excited over those sort of topics?
“If you like. And everything Supehero did you before that.”
Civilian’s chest went cold. “How do you know about that?”
His sharp intake of breath echoed airily in the speaker.
“Not on purpose,” the woman added quickly. “I wasn’t following you. Superhero and I had a relationship that required seeing each other on a regular basis, and I happened across it in the aftermath of…work. From the way they talked, I knew they had someone, but I never imagined…”
Yeah. No one did. That has been the problem.
“Can we meet?” the woman repeated.
Civilian had to be crazy. Something must be truly , seriously wrong with his head.
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, voice losing its chill entirely for just a moment. “When? Where?”
“Now? Apparently you know where I live, so how about the diner on the corner? It’s open 24/7.”
If Civilian gave himself more time to think about this he’d chicken out. And maybe that would be for the best, but at this moment he didn’t need sense. He needed this suffocating weight off his chest.
“I’ll be about 15 minutes; I wasn’t expecting you to want to meet so quickly.”
"Right, see you...um...what do you look like exactly?"
"You'll know," the woman said, and the line went dead.
Well. If Civilian died tonight, at least he got to cut up Superhero. That was more than he really could have hoped for.
He didn't bother changing out of his lounges clothes, just pulling on a pair of rubber boots and grabbing a roughly matching jacket from the coat hook before darting for the door. Last second, he rummaged out the little canister of pepper spray from his work bag. It had been purchased especially for Superhero, but he had never had the guts to use it. Maybe this time... Well, in any case, he felt safer with it sitting in his pocket.
When Civilian arrived at the diner it was all but empty. Just one couple sat at the counter sharing a disgustingly overtopped milkshake, while a pale-haired woman in a forest green coat sat tucked in a booth at the back.
Civilian drew cautiously near. "Um...hello?"
The woman looked up from her menu, revealing the five eyes lotus tattoo in the hollow of her throat.
Civilian retreated a step back, but it was too late. She grinned, stretching a long pale scar that cut from her cheekbone to the end of her chin, and those eyes...pale as ice and just as sharp. When she stood she practically radiated power. The same aura always surrounded Superhero, something unnatural, awe-inspiring, and terrifying.
Civilian recognized her almost immediately. Not because he'd ever met her in person, but from the many pictures he'd seen on tv.
"Hey," she said, waving to the open seat across from her.
"Told you you'd know me." Her voice then dropped back into the even tone it had carried over the phone. "Would you rather sit here, or in the next booth over? I don't want to be shouting sensitive information to the room, but I also want you to have all the space you need."
"This is fine," Civilian said, dropping into the booth. He'd never imagined Supervillain being the type to ask. Not with her dangerous reputation.
For a moment they just sat in silence, Civilian looking at his knees, Supervillain's eyes boring into the crown of his head.
"So you did that," Civilian interrupted. He immediately blanched. He didn't need to make himself a target for another top super.
"I did," Supervillain said calmly, not even a speck of remorse on her tongue. She didn't duck her head in shame either. She was...apparently fine with what she'd done.
"Aren't you worried I'll tell someone?" Civilian hoped desperately that didn't sound like a threat.
She shrugged. "Police will unravel it soon anyway. And I'm not too worried about their power."
Civilian nodded vaguely. If they hadn't caught Supervillain with Superhero's help, they certainly weren't going to catch her without. He wasn't sure if that she be disheartening or not, but at the moment he only felt neutral.
"And the..." Civilian mimicked writing letters in the air.
"Ah, so you did see that." She leaned forward a little in her seat. "I just called it as I see it. Call it a statement to the public. How long were they doing this to you?"
"A little over a year..."
"That scum." Her pale eyes narrowed and Civilian got the feeling if she could kill Superhero all over again, she would.
Civilian swallowed. "Excuse me, Miss--"
"Miss? That's cute. Just call me Supervillain."
"Supervillain." It tasted strange on their tongue, but not exactly bad. "Why, if I can ask, did you do it? How did you do it?"
"How is easy," Supervillain shrugged. "I've always been stronger. I've only held myself back because together we kept the city balanced. But when it came down to it, it wasn't too hard for me to punch through their steel skin.
"As for why..." Her icy eyes softened. “They were bothering you. So I got rid of them.”
Civilian blinked. "But you don't even know--"
"I didn't have to. It was wrong. Even I wouldn't be so vile, and I'm the expert on the wrong. I saw someone who needed a way out of a terrible trap. One with only one possible escape route."
“Th-thank you.” Civilian squeezed the legs of his sweats in his fists, blinking rapidly to keep back the tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his chin up to stare Supervillain directly in the eyes. "Thank you."
Supervillain smiled. "You're welcome. Do you... want to talk? Or order something? I find it's easier to get words out when I have something else to distract me."
Civilian quickly ordered a large stack of strawberry and banana pancakes. He told her everything.
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