Pumpkin Prompt 3 - Foggy
@wolfstarmicrofic October 3, word count 593
CW - Murder, blood, dead body
It was always foggy in London, and the more buildings they added, the worse it got. The misty cloud got trapped, unable to escape the rats' nest of a city and hung around, blinding the inhabitants while also giving the perfect cover for the vermin of London to commit their heinous crimes.
Sirius stuck to the shadows, watching. He was on the hunt for a prolific murderer. He’d been nicknamed the Moon Man by the boys in the office, as he only killed on a full moon. Tonight was a full moon, but it was barely visible above the fog. But Sirius knew he would strike tonight. A woman shrieked in the distance, and Sirius took off towards it.
He had this area of London memorised. He could draw a perfect map and find his way around with his eyes closed, but, at this moment, with this damn fog throwing off his senses, he would have preferred.
He ran into a tall, thick-set man as he rounded the corner of the next street. Sirius was knocked off his feet, and by the time he’d looked up, the man was gone. Disappearing into the fog without a trace. There was a postbox on the same corner, and he wondered if he’d run into that and thought it was a man. He shook off his thought and raced on, towards the scream.
The fog began to thin as he neared the end of the road, and two distorted figures emerged from the gloom. Sirius slowed his pace and clung to the sides of the buildings, making himself invisible.
A man held the limp body of a woman. By her attire, Sirius assumed she was a lady of the night. The man was covered head to toe in bright red blood, clear even in this dim light. Sirius stifled a gasp when the man carefully lowered the woman to the ground; her neck had been torn open. Sirius had no doubt that he had finally caught the Moon Man. He let his baton slip out of his sleeve, and with one powerful swing, the man was knocked unconscious, falling into a pool of his victims' spilt life. “You’re coming with me, Moony,” Sirius spat at the crumpled man as he carefully restrained him with the manacles around his wrists.
He stood and placed his whistle between his lips, and blew. The high-pitched sound it emitted alerted every other police officer to his whereabouts. He looked down at his captive. He looked young, no older than Sirius himself. His face had a long scar covering it, something none of the witnesses had ever mentioned. It was hard to tell with the amount of blood covering him, but Sirius thought he might be quite handsome under the gore. All thoughts of the man's appearance were pushed aside as the sound of the other officer's footsteps pounded closer. He’d get a medal for this, he was sure. Then why did it leave a bad taste in his mouth?
Sirius Black did something he’d never done before. He tampered with evidence. He grabbed the man under his arms and dragged him away from the crime scene, kicking open an abandoned house’s door and stowing him inside. Why he did it, he’d never know, but he trusted his gut, and his gut was telling him he had the wrong man.
He made it back to the body as the first of the officers appeared from the gloom. For the first time in his life, Sirius was grateful for the blasted fog.
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