Click me for the BoG R5 Main Thread for additional info!

Welcome to a Round Five Battle Thread for the BoG Tournament! Be mindful now, as your votes are the determining factor to who takes the win!

I will reiterate what I said in the main thread for those who missed it. If you will comment on the plot, please use spoilers. This is a mystery genre after all where plot is everything.

For a few reminders though:



Now without further ado here are the works of our would-be Masters of Genre!

TheOrganization

Casefile in one hand and granola bar in the other, Briggs squatted in front of the white tape outline, questioning the dried blood fused into the hardwood. The cold apartment had been left as is, a disheveled and seemingly random cacophony of torn upholstery garnished with fragments of furniture. Even the heat was left off, as turning it back on would only disturb it more. Briggs hated the cold.

The only thing they took from the scene was Ms. Beaumont’s body of course. It was being processed to the lab and then shipped back to her family in Louisiana. Surely, her parents plead with her not move away, definitely not to a city as dangerous as the burglary capital of the States. She must’ve promised them that she would’ve been fine, that this would be a new opportunity for her, that everything would be ok. And now, he’s got to clean up the fallout. Briggs even watched them scrape her off the floor, the blood had soaked her clothes and bound her to the it. She was just a kid, she didn’t know any better.

Briggs shook those idle thoughts from his head. He was a veteran on Homicide after all; he had seen much worse than this. Perhaps, it was because his own daughter was moving out soon for College. Was it normal to worry about a kid moving out this much? Even Megan was freaking out and she had known all the answers since Delilah was born. Briggs knew he couldn’t tell Megan about this. That was one of the few things he knew for sure.

“Of course you’re still here…”

Briggs turned back to see his annoyed partner with a stack of papers in her hands and furrowed eyebrows above her shades.

“Ah…the autopsy report?”

The detective’s pixie hair appeared to stand up, becoming even paler as they caught the sunlight, as her annoyance began to evolve into full blown anger.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day Briggs!”

Hearing his name, Briggs shot up from his feet, stumbling a bit as he had crouched for far too long. His face a mix of sad dog who and lazy dad, he brushed off her tirade as he did his hair.

“Why not call?”

In his partner’s other hand was a white iPhone already ringing. After only one, it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, its Cecil Briggs...and uh...you know what to do..."

"Ah."

Briggs pulled out his cellphone, the screen cool and dark. Within a moment of holding the power button, the phone vibrated to life. Satisfied, Briggs placed the phone back in his pocket and looked back on the tape outline.

"Well then?"

Sighing, the frustrated detective walked up to Briggs side and handed him the report. She knew arguing with him was a pointless endeavor.

"You're hopeless, Briggs."

Briggs chuckled to himself. All the women in his life have said the same.

"So how's it look Baum?"

“She died two days ago, on Monday at 3:25 AM. The knife we found was definitely the murder weapon. There are slight signs of a struggle. A bit of blood on the nails, scratches on her arm and face-“

“There was no sign of forced entry,” interrupted Briggs.

He could feel the icy cold glare behind Baum’s sunglasses, but Briggs didn’t really care.

“Yeah, so she must’ve knew the guy, but no prints on the weapon so he must be a professional-“

“Or really cautious…”

Baum folded her arms, her gaze avoiding the bloodstains.

“You’d have to be in a murder like this…the few prints on the handle are inconclusive, the few unwiped partials are muddled and old. Oh and get this. Most of the blood on our victim, in her sweater and on her gloves, they aren’t her’s. Two distinct types even on the knife.”

“So she managed to knick the perp…”

Baum nodded, raising her sunglasses to reveal her cold sky blue eyes. They seemed to burn with intensity as he began to enter her element. Briggs’s tired brown eyes envied that enthusiasm, but they also knew that she was on the wrong track.

“The guy is wounded and he definitely knew the victim. Two days is more than enough time to get out of the state and hold up somewhere, but at least she-“

“Hold up their Baum...” he interrupted again, although he began to trail off into his thoughts once more. With a fierce look shooting daggers at him, Briggs noticed that Baum was unconsciously playing with her watch. A habit she developed to deal with things when she was getting frustrated and her anger was getting out of control. It was good that she was finally listening to her counselor. Baum smirked a bit, only to be reminded that the chief had already reprimanded him once this week for antagonizing her. As her senior, he should set a “better example”. Another phrase, Megan liked to remind him off.

“If she got the perp, where’s the blood?”

“I told you Briggs, the guy’s a professional. Why the hell wouldn’t he wipe up the blood before he left?”

“But the perp didn’t though…”

“Then where is it?”

“Pay attention, Baum. You’re the one that found the body remember? The bloody knife, Charlotte’s blood pooled around her body? You want to tell me that the killer wiped their blood up off the floor but left it on the murder weapon?”

Baum bit her lip and took a step back, another one of her bad habits.

“Stuff is missing though, he’d have to find some way to leave.”

“Maybe…” trailed off Briggs once again, as he began to walk away from the blood stains and follow a trail of blood droplets that led to the hall. Engrossed in the case, Baum’s anger subsided for curiosity and she followed close behind him. With his elbow, he pushed open the door to one of the bedrooms to find more labeled blood stains.

“They weren’t supposed to close this door,” complained Baum.

“It probably closed itself, the wind maybe…”

The blood cascaded from the wall to the floor, but there was only one real true line of it. Briggs didn’t cover it in school like Baum did, but he had been on the force long enough to know what it meant. The splatter definitely confirmed that the blade had to have been removed after she was stabbed, flinging off blood as it swung back into the air.

"But their was no blood in the hallway...If the blade had been removed, she would've bled a lot more here...why wait till out in the front to take the blade out?"

Baum scratched his head and looked toward the young detective.

Her eyes were locked upon the closed closet to the side of the door, her intense focus reminded Briggs of his younger self.

"There are two bedrooms in this apartment Briggs, the more I think about it, the less it makes any sense to me...I don't think forensics checked this place as well as they thought, there's way too many holes..."

"Seems like it...mind filling me in on your hunch?" requested Briggs as he seemed to stare off into space, his hands in his pocket.

"Yeah, ever since we came in here I've been smelling something foul...its faint but-"

"I can't smell anything."

"Just look Ok," complained Baum as she walked past him and threw open the cupboard. A wall of foul mainly metallic odor slammed into Baum nearly knocking her off her off her feet. Her face turned green as she turned away from the closet. In contrast, Briggs came in closer, getting a better look.

"Looks like you've found the roommate."
[/spoiler]

devi

ber, feeling the soft fabric of the sheets and the relaxing feeling of laying his head on the pillow. It was a tempting thought to not exit his comfortable position was an incredibly pleasuring thought, but he knew there was no choice but to get up. Drowsily, he opened his eyes to his room. A strong beam of light from the close-curtained window, revealing its decorations and furniture, pierced the room’s usual darkness.

Will was a simple man of simple tastes; he never really liked the idea of having extremely extravagant furniture just to make him look rich or something. He liked what he had. He liked his sofa, the feeling of its soft bounce still intact after many years of having it. He liked his table, it’s sturdiness made sure it would hold out for a very long time and it held his paperwork and equipment quite well. There wasn’t anything in his room he didn’t like. Well, beside the screechy door that he hadn’t gotten around to oil.

Slowly he got himself up, his eyelids weighing heavily on his eyes, his whole body yearning to lay down again. Lifting up his arms in the air, he yawned out-loud as his body cracked loudly. He reached for the edge of his blanket and pulled it off his body, its comfortable feeling leaving his body wanting it back. Turning his body, he put his feet onto the cold wooden floor and stood up from his bed.

He stood there for a few seconds stuck in thought of the day, the wind from the window gently brushing his pajamas and face. After a minute or so of waiting he sighed and scratched his head. His hair felt much more ruffled and all over the place than it usually was, brushing his hair would be more than a pain.

“I mean, I might as well get breakfast first.” He murmured to himself as he looked to his door. He approached it and grabbed the golden knob, turning it gently as he pulled open his door. The screech of the hinges was close to unbearably loud, it felt like it was the sound of some sort of banshee on her period after a violent episode of breaking up with her boyfriend. Or something like that.

Opening the door revealed the main hub for rooms in the building, Will’s door being in a hallway that went on for a few meters for another four rooms for other people. Right now however, they were empty as no one had moved in just yet. It was a new apartment, with fresh paint on the walls and the wooden floor like a good carpet. With much less tentacle things, whatever those things are called, but still just as smooth one.

He continued down the hallway to a brightly lit room, with sounds of clashing metal emanating from it. It was the kitchen most likely, but what was someone doing this earlier in the morning? Will looked in and saw Grace.

“Did you forget that people other than you lived here?” She asked politely

“Oh how could I forget about the lady that can read my mind at all times?” Will answered, face palming in answer to his own apparent memory loss.




Grace was a mutant who lived in the same apartment, a gentle girl who always seemed to be so innocent and kind to everyone around her. Even if people were being rude or disrespectful, she would keep her calm at all times. Hell, she even looked pretty hot at the same time, especially since she looked remarkably human. As mentioned however, she isn’t.

The only ways to see that she wasn’t human was the completely blank eyes and two thin antennas protruding from the top of her head that had yellow balls at the tip of them. Of course, she looks better than a lot of mutants in this ghetto, that’s for sure. Some of the girls look like something straight out of a horror movie.

“So how’s sleepy head this morning then?” She asked, this time with a bit of a tease in her voice while a small smile grew on her face. Will didn’t actually know much about her, she being not very talkative when it comes to who she is. Understandable, mutants here don’t trust humans much, since they’re “oppressed” and what not.

“Tired as hell. Work has been kicking my ass around like it’s a football.” He answered, rubbing his eyes to get rid of some dust in them. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes again that he realized that Grace had no idea what he was talking about. “Oh sorry, I mean figuratively. It’s like a thing we humans say to complain about how much stress and crap we are dealing with.”

“I understand, it must be pretty stressful to be a detective in this area of town. People here tend not to like you guys at all.” She replied, giggling a bit as Will explained himself. Mutants and Humans were so separated back in the day that even some sayings within the two species had molded to different things.

Before Will could say anything at all, the phone right on the counter next to him rang with a loud annoying sound. To avoid being tortured by it, he quickly picked it up and spoke into it. “Ant lady and detective residence here. Who is it that’s calling?”

“Get your ass in gear, you idiot! You’re an hour fucking late!” The voice was tough, loud and easily discerned to be very very mad. The voice also sounded very rocky, if that makes sense, so it could only be one man. Will’s boss. He must have slept longer than he imagined

“Oh fuck. I’ll get there as soon as I can!” He replied quickly, surprised and intimidated by the shouting of his boss.

“Not as soon as you can, your get in here now!” Will didn’t answer, he immediately ran into his room, grabbed his stuff and ran like a maniac out of the apartment. Before he ran through the door, he looked at Grace and gave her a gentle smile. He quickly ran out, leaving behind a terrified Grace, who look liked she just saw a ghost pass by her very eyes.




“Care to explain why you are late, weak-blood?” Will’s boss was a mutant, specifically a rock-man. His voice always seemed to be incredibly raspy, as his voice box was literally just rocks moving around. Rock-men are these huge and wide people quite literally made out of rocks. All of them have varying colors for their eyes, and regular people have difficulty seeing difference between people. Which is why its encouraged for rock-men, to have nametags or always have something on that tells other people who they are. They said they were being oppressed.

Will stood there for a few seconds thinking of an excuse to tell his boss. He thought he woke up at the regular time he always does, apparently today was an exception for his sleep schedule. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough to be late on the first day of work, after spending around a week getting accustomed to the area, how he got here was no better. He quite literally changed as he ran full speed to work. As he ran, he took of his pajamas and put on his regular attire, a black suit and pants decorated with a red tie and dapper shoes.

To say that people stared at him as he ran was an understatement. Some even looked at him in fear, wonder why.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Boss continued, as he pulled out a drawer within his desk. The station seemed to be pretty busy today, as mutants and humans (primarily mutants) walked around doing their job or whatever they do. The station always felt so depressing, not many windows to let the light in, with the primary sources of light being the lamps on the desks. The desks were very old fashioned, like something you’d see during the 21st century, much more blocky than regular desks and made out of wood. “We’ve got a case for you right off the bat.”

“Alright, what have I got?” Will asked, hiding the excitement in his voice under a tone of seriousness. He had to get back into his regular mood of bei

Both of these stories almost seem to have no ending. They reach a neat point where information is revealed, but what about the mystery? The plot still hasn't been solved. All I have is a reveal that thickens the plot, but doesn't resolve anything. If I was reading it right...




I'm left wanting with both endings. But I guess I'll vote TheOrg because I liked the dialogue between the two detectives

My vote goes to The Org