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Warning(s): E, graphic gore She didn’t know how long she’d been waiting in that room. The air was stale, the florescent lights clouded by dust and grime, the seat covers ripped and stiff against her limbs. Reading the magazines felt pointless, as most were a year old or more. Not that it hardly mattered. People had an almost innate aversion to the blonde woman as her red-rimmed eyes leaked tears, as she waited and waited. All they could really tell was this woman in a heinously expensive pantsuit could’ve been some unsung celebrity, for all they knew. New York wasn’t as obvious with its celebrities as Los Angelos was, but they came out of the woodwork, sometimes. Stark as a diamond amid costume jewelry. Except, their thoughts mattered little to Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. It was going on three hours that she was waiting, the car accident having been severe. It was always accidents that took her family’s lives; first their mother in a car wreck, and their father in an airplane wreckage off the coast of France. Monaco’s royal family was seen as cursed, and Luna wondered if that didn’t sing true. They said her brother could very well lose his arm. It was Stella, their baby sister, facetiming her that had kept the middle Fleuret sane. As the duration of the surgery wore on, as cups of stale coffee kept her awake, by three AM they had news. “Miss Fleuret? You can see your brother now.” Lunafreya practically leapt up despite a swoon of exhaustion washing over her, headed towards the receptionist counter as she hastily signed in on the clipboard. “Thank you. I shan’t be long,” she assured, even if the woman at the desk smiled sympathetically. A nurse in dark scrubs led her through the corridors until they came to the intensive patient’s ward, a dark cloud of anxiety pulling the blonde down. The nurse directed her to the room where Ravus was, a spacious one-person occupancy they could easily afford. Luna became crestfallen as she entered and found Ravus completely unconscious, hooked to a respirator and IV taps and breathing deeply. Notably, his left arm was completely missing and his torso was wrapped in bandages, minor scrapes and bruises otherwise littering his pale, freckled complexion. Taking a small stool and sitting at his right flank, the beeping of the heart monitor and airy intake of the respirator’s bellows seemed to be her only company through his unconscious state. “I’m so sorry, Ravus. I wish I could’ve done something to prevent this,” she murmured mournfully, biting her lower lip and covering his good hand with both of hers. Despite this, his hand subconsciously grasped hers and a watery smile spanned her fair features, choking back a sob in both relief and torment as to what had occurred. Busily, she stroked sweat-matted hair from his face and used a damp washcloth to swipe away any excess sweat, the albino male so pale that his hair looked silvery. At the very least, it was some small comfort she could provide. “Miss Fleuret? There’s someone here to see you. We can’t let him in, but he says it’s urgent.” Luna snapped from her reverie when the nurse’s aide addressed her, remembering: Weskham had promised that he’d be calling upon her soon. Seeing as she worked out of the Behavioral Sciences unit at the academy, under his wing, it made sense that this visitation had something to do with it. “I’ll be back, Ravus, I promise.” Giving her brother’s hand one last squeeze, she quietly exited his room to find herself face-to-face with a familiar face in the waiting room. Luna bore hardly any reserve as she preemptively kissed Prompto’s cheek while the younger man blushed rather happily. Though four years her junior, they’d been dating for the better part of two months. Both had graduated from the FBI Academy in the Behavioral Sciences Unit under Weskham Armaugh’s directive, Luna having even taught him at one time. Though challenging work, they’d been kindred spirits through it all. “Luna, hey,” Prompto cheerily greeted her before sobering, expression sympathetic. Thankfully, the receptionist seemed to ignore their public affections. “Ravus—is he doing all right?” Luna smiled grimly. “For the most part, yes. My sister and I decided he’ll be returning to Monaco after he’s recovered enough to travel. We think it’d do him good.” “Huh, yeah. Kinda forget you guys are royalty sometimes. Least it means he’ll be doing okay?” Prompto inquired, looking over her shoulder through the small porthole in the ward Ravus was being kept. He placed his hand on Luna’s shoulder, a silently appreciated gesture. “Also, um—we kinda have to get going. Armaugh sent me here because we’re needed on a case. It’s kinda urgent.” At this, all signs of melancholy evaporated from Luna’s face as it became serious. “At once. Simply allow me to sign out and we can be on our way.” Departing from their comfortable proximity, she returned to the clipboard, bid the receptionist farewell, and departed from the hospital with Prompto and towards the parking garage. Though part of her felt undoubtedly guilty for leaving her brother so soon, he wouldn’t have wanted her to neglect work. As an eminent West Point Academy professor, and former army veteran, he understood the call to duty better than anyone. Purpose colored every movement as they got into Prompto’s car and exited the labyrinthine parking garage. “Might I ask what we’re being called out for?” Luna asked first, grasping for a twin pair of manila envelopes with both their names of them. “Weskham wants us on as field agents. From what I was debriefed on, it’s some kinda new serial killer. They’re calling him the Huron Hunter because two similar sites have manifested within the past twenty four hours along the Huron River. Guess the guy likes head hunting, or something.” Prompto’s brief summary was consistent to what she saw of the photos already taken. Though the bodies had long been removed from the places for autopsy, they had kept the remains largely preserved in the way they’d been found. Luna found her blood curdling at the sight of the bodies posed like taxidermy animal trophies, skin flayed off and antlers embed within the skulls. It was grotesquely theatrical, that much was certain. “What about the victims? Have they gotten a positive ID on them yet?” Luna asked, leafing through the police reports made at the time of the discovery. “Perhaps there’s a theme.” “Huh, not that anyone’s been able to see, yet. I think they’re still checking local dental records, since the faces were too disfigured to make a match.” For the next hour they drove on the interstate before branching off to back roads that led along the Huron River, rife with smaller suburbs and a heavily forested sprawl that seemed alien compared to the city that resided on Long Island just along the peninsula. Being early summer, the drive was cheerier and verdant compared to the drabness of the winter season just weeks before. Prompto turned off at a turnpike to a little used gravel road. It seemed desolate until a bevy of squad cars and FBI vehicles emerged from the crawl like stones after the retreat of a low tide. Prompto parked off the flank of a squad car, both greeted by Weskham the moment they exited his car. “I’m awfully sorry about your brother, Lunafreya. God keep him, but until then, I think you two should see this.” The man’s coppery features bespoke a warning of what they would be seeing, Prompto and Luna exchanging looks before following their superior. A wide berth of crime scene tape cordoned the larger area where Weskham stopped before the epicenter of the crime. Like birds in flight had the bodies been manipulated to almost appear to be flying, the skin of the two victims’ back flayed into long strips that had been stapled to their forearms, starched to keep the tissue from sagging. Like bird feathers. Conical wood implants replaced two missing lower jaws and resembled beaks from what Lunafreya could tell. All suspended on durable fishing wire barely ten feet above their heads. Prompto cleared his throat nervously, fumbling through his lapel pocket for what appeared to be pain killers. Though unorthodox, it made sense in the context of what came next. “Um, excuse me—“ he broached nervously, swallowing shakily. “I’m, uh—gonna need everyone to clear the area. Oh man, oh man—“ Luna placed a concerned hand on his shoulder, but he was morbidly transfixed on the bodies, almost like she wasn’t there at all. Sighing, Luna walked away with Weskham as they cleared the boundaries of the police tape, leaning against a squad car as she looked on with worry. “I almost wish you wouldn’t make him use it. This extreme empathy—I worry it could break him, Weskham,” Luna said frankly as she turned to her friend and mentor, the older man fishing through his pockets for a cigarette. “I understand your concerns, Miss Fleuret, but his gift saves lives. I don’t intend on breaking him; simply reintroducing him to the field. Or rather, introducing him. There’s more to him than being a teacher’s aide and I’d hate to see his talents squandered in the classroom.” Luna clamped her jaw shut, not saying anything as blue eyes roved towards the haunting pantomime of Prompto trekking through the crime scene area like a ghost. Even if Weskham believed it to be a waste of talent, Prompto was happy being her aide. And while she could see him successful working behind the scenes, putting him on the field only promised disaster. She knew him too well. “Alright, but promise me you won’t push him. The last thing he needs to be broken in this line of work.” Weskham nodded sternly before pushing off of the hood they’d been leaning against as he shepherded Prompto towards him, circling an arm around the young man’s shoulders. Though he appeared visibly shaken, he smiled radiantly upon sighting Luna. In his wake, the FBI and police personnel returned to their work which included gathering as much evidence as they could find. “Are you alright, love?” Luna ventured gently as she drew Prompto into her arms, the younger blond seeming to enjoy the attention until he extricated himself out of mild embarrassment. He wasn’t fine china that would easily break, after all. “Yeah, I’m fine. Mind if we get back to the Academy? I’ve got a lot of reports to write up, and stuff,” Prompto said, smiling apologetically. Not that Lunafreya could blame him in the least. She wanted to leave this morbid trap of a place as urgently as he did.