Chapter 1 - Knightfall

You find out the coroner was called "a while ago," but they don't have an ETA.

The officers will move off in pairs, although Smith will check if Vlax is comfortable being alone in the alleyway and only head off if Vlax is, in fact, ok.

It takes about another 20 minutes before the coroner arrives. Dr. Williams probably should have retired a decade ago... maybe two. He walks -- trudges, really -- with a cane. His back is stooped, he moves and speaks slowly, he's hard of hearing, his glasses are thick enough you question if he should be allowed to drive, and you're pretty sure he drinks in excess.

That said, his eyes are razor sharp (when he has his glasses). He has also forgotten more about medicine than most doctors will ever know. He also is a bastion of moral character. There are always rumors about officials being on the take -- but not Williams. It's well known he's refused both the Yakuza and the Russians. Even lost his second wife over one of those refusals. Still refused to give in.

"Sorrysorry," he says as he totters up to Vlax. His words are a bit mumbled and a bit slurred... although you can't be sure if he's drunk or just tired. Doesn't smell like a bar at least. He has more hair in his ears than on his head, but he puts his fedora on and wraps his scarf around his neck another time. Looking up at Vlax, he says, "Shall we, Detective?"

And then he's off, tottering into the alleyway toward the corpse.

As the two of you move down the alleyway, a firetruck and ambulance pull up within seconds of each other. It's enough to make you wonder if they were waiting for the Doc to arrive?

Regardless, once they verify that they're clear to act, the girl is carefully cut down, moved to a body bag and stretchered out. The cord that was used is collected as evidence, and slowly, systematically, everyone filters back out. With the four patrolmen talking to residents, Vlax finds himself truly alone in the alleyway.

His only companions are the crows, still cawing softly and looking down on everything.

There isn't much time to investigate the body once it's down. They rush to get the corpse to the morgue, in hopes of preserving any clues or evidence that might be there.

As Vlax looks around the alleyway as he makes to leave, he looks back towards the hole in the brick where Smith's bullet is lodged.

"You still here, Detective?" O'Malley's question snaps Vlax out of it... whatever 'it' was. The Detective sees all four patrolmen are back in the alley with him. "We were surprised to see your car. Figured you'd be at the morgue, or fillin' out paperwork by now. You okay?" O'malley puts a hand on Vlax's shoulder and looks at him, a bit concerned.

"Anyway, since you're here I guess we can fill you in. A whole lotta nothin'. The best we got is a woman on the fifth floor of that building," he says, indicating the building Vlax had found a scrap of cloth on, "Said her dog went ballistic at about 3:45am. Little yorkie, I guess usually doesn't make a peep. But isn't that what they all say? Anyway, the only other reports we got were two of her neighbors woke up at 3:45 due to a dog barking. Everyone else was asleep. Hell, a few of 'em still were when we knocked. Not everyone answered, either."

The officers head off to start their paperwork, and a quick glance at Vlax's watch tells him it's just after 8:30. Where was his mind for... roughly two hours?

As he leaves the alleyway to get in his car, the crows above caw loudly and finally fly away.

Berkowitz will tell him it was an anonymous tip called in from a payphone a few blocks away.

When Vlax arrives at the morgue, he finds Dr. Williams has been hard at work. Diener Ellis, a young man whose body just isn't made for scrubs, lets him in and walks him to the autopsy room, announcing the Detective to the coroner and his assistant.

There is a great deal of information already jotted down, and they're in the process of weighing organs.

"Detective," Willaims says as a greeting without looking up from his work. "It will take me some time to have a full report submitted. This one is... peculiar, let's say. I assume you want the Cliff's Notes version early? There's so much, because there's so little."

The old man places a kidney on the scale, and his assistant writes.

"The biggest oddity? There was no blood. More than that, there was no wound to account for the loss of blood. Not a drop on her, her clothes, the cord she was tied with, anythibg. No big injury like a severed artery or missing limb. The blood just... wasn't there. And it was gone before the strips of flesh were carved. Speaking of, the precision of the cuts is unbelievable. Perfectly straight lines, the corners are exactly ninety degrees, the depth of each cut is uniform -- meaning pressure was consistant. Each cut! Each of the removed strips is uniform, so that means uniform pressure at all times. It's... it's impossible. You simply cannot be that precise!

At the moment I'm ruling cause of death as unknown. The strips of flesh that were removed, while horrific, wouldn't have been lethal -- barring shock, or infection later on. She seems to have died from a lack of blood... but I don't have the first clue where it went or how it left her body. It's like it simply stopped existing."

Dr. Williams shakes his head. "No clue. Eight strips are missing. Four from the front of the torso, four from the back of the torso. Some Gein-inspired individual perhaps? Although for a trophy-taker, I wouldn't think strips of flesh would be what they were after."

He stops and sighs, looking up at the Detective. When he makes eye contact, the tiredness in the coroner's eyes is unmistakable... and it isn't lack of sleep, or even his age. His tired runs much deeper than that.

"Scalpel," he says plainly. "That's about the only thing I can think of that would be fine enough and cut cleanly enough for these lines. Maybe a straight razor if it was sharpened meticulously?"

He goes back to work, the room falling silent as he places the other kidney on the scale to be recorded. "I can put a rush on the tox screen. This case should probably be the priority. Still, it'll take a bit."

Vlax talks to a few people, and while they're letting the night shift officers go home they'll get the paperwork to send a car out and scoop up the super.

Two hours later, a call comes in. Considering the case from that morning, they requested Vlax respond. After getting no response, and then a warrant, the officers entered the super's apartment... and found him dead.

Vlax pulls up to the apartment building, killing his siren and lights before rushing inside. He heads to the elavator and right up to apartment 10E, finding the unfortunate sight of crime scene tape and an officer at the door.

"The deceased is one Edward Schmidt. Single white male, 57 years of age. Found in his bed."

Ducking under the tape, Vlax finds a reasonably sized two bedroom apartment, well kept and clean. It does in fact have an amazing view. Moving to the master bedroom he sees the body, and one thing is readily obvious -- he has never seen this person before.

Rodgers arrives on scene about ten minutes after you call him. He's not thrilled, of course. With a sigh he radios in to put out the bulletins. "All I had to do was finish my report and I could go home and sleep." You can hear the defeat in his voice as he resigns himself to what is quickly turning in to at least a double shift.

Questioning the officers that were on scene, Ashland and Barnes, they tell you they were sent to bring the super in for questioning, and when there was no answer got clearance to breach the door. They found him in bed, and outside of checking his pulse via his left wrist haven't touched anything. You also realize the deceased has to live here... there are family photos with him included all over the place.