Super Serial by Harker McNair

Author:Harker McNair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harker McNair
Published: 2024-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13: Cruller to be Kind

Ziggy looked around the room at his team. Pepper was texting, her thumbs jittering over her phone so fast they appeared to be independent of her hands. Her ruffled cheetah-print heels rested casually on the chair beside her. Floyd was humming to himself, flipping through pictures of past Super Serial killers on the smartboard at the front of the room. His focus settled on the visage of a woman dressed up like a crow, black feathers dangling from her arms. He mumbled to himself and counted on his fingers, then moved on. He had his noise-canceling headphones on and his baggy orange shirt-of-the-day read, “The rotation of the Earth really makes my day.”

Ziggy eyed the two murderers at the table. It seemed like Super Serial surfaced the weirdest of the weird. Whatever happened to the regular, straight-forward murderers? The bland-looking fellow who snapped and used a kitchen knife. The scorned woman who whacked her husband with a crowbar. Killers nowadays always had some bizarre kink or costume, like supervillains, rather than run-of-the-mill sociopaths. Ziggy wasn’t sure if the competition attracted the unique psychos or if Super Serial produced them.

Juan, their newest security guard, was watching Benedict and Carol play a game of cards, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Mother, the corgi, was snoring at Benedict’s feet. Ziggy’s ears grew hot as he drummed his fingers on the conference room table.

It had been two weeks since he’d taken Benedict into custody and had an insta-kill chip implanted in his brain. Every lead they’d come up with since had turned out to be a dead end. They’d spent almost a week trying to track down a Vigilante killer notorious for using a flamethrower to incinerate former mobsters. But their efforts fell flat when they discovered he was already incarcerated in another district with a bond they couldn’t dream of paying.

Another avenue they’d explored was delving into the birth records stored in DipShip’s criminal database. Their aim was to identify any already captured serial killers whose birthdays fell between July 23rd and August 22nd for Leos category, but the system was too outdated to be of any use.

No one had a pot to piss in, or a window to throw it out of, and his team was acting like they were at an ice cream social, hot fudge drizzle included.

He slammed his fist on the table; everyone but Floyd jumped. “We have less than eight weeks before the Preliminaries,” he barked. “Seven weeks and two days. We need a Vigilante, a Leo, and a Centennial killer, or we’re screwed.”

“Language,” Carol scolded him, dropping her cards to the table in a neat stack. She poofed up the hairspray-stiff mound at the back of her head. “The Bible says we must rid ourselves of obscene talk.”

“Technically, you’re the only one that would be screwed,” Floyd stated, his voice loud yet neutral. “If we fail, you’ll end up in prison.” He tilted his head in thought. “Carol and Benedict are screwed already because whether we find a full team or not, they’ll end up in Super Serial.

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