The Nature of Predators - Human Exterminators (4/9)

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Memory transcription subject: William Kane, Human Refugee

Date [standardized human time]: November 3, 2136

The hours following the body’s discovery were a blur. I had snapped pictures from every angle on my holopad, though I lacked the forensic tools to do much more than that. With my own cache preserved, I held the evidence to explain to these imbeciles why this was no animal attack. Rauln had the nerve to suggest that I was imaging the corpse to drool over later!

My next action had been to dial the UN’s Emergency Response Team on Venlil Prime. The original plan was to bring them in to handle the Rottweiler, since I didn’t trust the flame squad to give him a cozy stay. That bit was still part of my request; the embassy agreed to transfer the canine to their custody.

Torched dog crisis averted. However, the news I tacked onto it carried more gravitas. I told them about the corpse we’d discovered on duty, and asked them to send crime scene technicians. You could hear it in the voice of the person who answered the phone. They already knew that the Venlil were allowing murderers to operate unchecked.

There were no questions about how I knew it was, in fact, a murder. The phone operator exuded more concern over violating the Venlil’s sovereignty, and was reluctant to supply forensic aid. I had to patch Volek into the call, then persuade her that humans should look at the body. It felt humiliating, having to beg for us to give common sense aid to them!

The situation was so much worse than I had thought when I took the job offer. The exterminators were unwitting accomplices, covering up murders…and the United Nations wouldn’t say a peep of it. God forbid we offend the Venlil Republic, since Governor Tarva was such a wonderful friend.

The fucking blue helmets don’t have the balls to confront the Venlil about anything! I have to explain it to these dipshits, or no one will.

My gruesome images were taped to a whiteboard; I couldn’t find anything I could pin them to, like in the crime shows. I had uploaded my data to the internet as well, in case someone silenced me forcibly or destroyed my copies. Human refugees deserved to know about a serial killer on the loose; there was no guarantee a psychopath wouldn’t hunt down our kind too.

Now, I sought to gather information on related cases. The exterminators, as incompetent as they were, had attributed a pattern of deaths to this Intestine-Killer. The three aliens who’d received the dog call, along with the receptionist at fault for my hiring, came at my request. Volek didn’t say anything about the cheese and crackers carton, openly displayed on my desk.

For my piece, I didn’t say anything about the fact that I explicitly asked her not to bring Luala to the briefing. A twisted part of me fantasized that it was her corpse that we found. Perhaps I wouldn’t have investigated a Krakotl death with such fervor.

“William…I hope you have a good reason for making a spectacle out of a Venlil’s death.” Volek shook her head with disgust, and pointed to the graphic images on the board. “The victim’s family were livid when they heard humans were playing with and taking photo souvenirs of the corpse! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

I issued a bitter chuckle to myself. “What’s wrong with me? Rauln tried to burn a murder victim. That’s no predator attack. Your Intestine-Eater is a Venlil, or some other race on this world.”

Hopefully a Krakotl. I’d love for one of those sick fucks to have an “accident” in my custody.

Rauln’s ears pricked up with indignation. “That is what you thought?! How dare you? Just b-because you predators slaughter each other, it doesn’t mean we did…that!”

I picked a plastic knife off the table, and the smoke-colored Venlil leapt back like I’d grabbed a machine gun. Luala hid behind Volek with terror, though her fright was more plausible. It would be ineffective, but I might jab the disposable silverware into her throat, if she got too close. Fyron the Farsul just looked traumatized, and watched as I opened my cheese-and-crackers packet.

“What you’ve just said is ludicrous, and indicative of your mental state. You get one chance to explain yourself,” Volek hissed. “Make it quick, William Kane.”

“The wound.” I plucked a cheese cube from the carton, and steadied it on the table. “It’s clean and straight. And deeper on one side than the other. As if someone…”

I extended my forearm in front of me, and stabbed the plastic blade into the far side of the cube. Pulling the knife toward me, I tried to slice it in half from above. For accuracy’s sake in my demonstration, the cheese wasn’t cut all the way to the bottom. I pointed to the uneven incision, and how it curved up from my tugging motion.

“…someone jabbed a knife into the skin, then tried to pull it out. It’s methodical,” I explained. “It’s not jagged or curved like claw marks. Drag your own claws against something, if you don’t believe me. And well, if you think it’s bite marks, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Fyron twisted her ears in distress. “So this p-predator has d-different-shaped claws. Knife-like claws.”

The other exterminators piped up with agreement, and I facepalmed. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the open food, which silenced the chatter. Let me guess; the Venlil thought this corpse talk was appetizing to me? It couldn’t be that I hadn’t eaten all day, and I could practically taste the saltines in my mouth.

I shoveled the sliced-up cheese cube into my mouth, earning a scowl from Volek. Smiling with sickening sweetness, I made a point of depositing more “predator food” through my lips. The Venlil receptionist stormed over to me, but I moved the carton out of reach. She was not going to pitch it into the waste bin.

“How can the f-fucking human think of food, now?” Rauln spat.

“I’m hungry. The fuck am I supposed to do—eat the bird?” I flashed my teeth with amusement, but the others in the room looked less entertained. “I was kidding! Anyhow, Fyron…a predator with knife-like claws? That’s the dumbest, most illogical, shit I’ve heard.”

The Farsul’s nostrils flared. “M-must you be a prick all the time, Will?”

“Eh, it’s a coping mechanism.” Sarcasm does hide pain and insecurity. “I’ll tell you, and you alone, later. For now, I need you to put your thinking caps on.”

“Our what?” Volek growled. “Fyron just ruined your entire argument. William, you’re really reaching—”

“I am not. You are! Hey, you know what else is a sign of claw marks? Multiple slashes, because there’s multiple claws. How many animals have you heard of with one, knife-shaped claw?! For fuck’s sake!”

“It could b-be mutated,” Rauln suggested.

“That’s not how mutations work! And also, how did the ‘predator’ get a clean cut in, without the Venlil resisting out of sheer pain?! Have you even thought to do a blood test for sedatives? An autopsy for cause of death?”

Fyron’s eyes widened. “T-those are good questions. N-no matter the claw shape…”

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Luala agreed. “I mean, t-to get such a clean cut, every time?”

“Bingo! Chicken nuggets there hit the nail on the head. If you saw a predator approaching you or pouncing head-on…one of the victims would’ve reacted.”

“Well then, I don’t see the harm in a blood test.” Volek’s claws curled up from tension, but she’d kept her wits. “It’s worth looking into. A predator couldn’t have access to sedatives, so that bit doesn’t make much sense. Someone should’ve writhed in pain.”

Rauln was rigid with denial. “No, I don’t accept this! P-prey don’t kill each other. We’re not…not like…”

“Says the Federation,” I scoffed. “Your dystopian overlords are liars…shocker.”

“William, that’s enough!” Volek swished her tail with assertiveness, and met Rauln’s eyes. “I’m not ruling out other explanations. If it’s a type of venom, we should know about it. We could make an anti-venom at least…it might help.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s no way it’s an animal. The gut cut is in the same spot, every time; that requires premeditation. Animals just don’t do that.”

“But there are always predators spotted in the area before! You didn’t listen to what we said.”

“That’s not true; I did listen. I think someone’s tuning in to your radio chatter…”

Or it’s someone on the inside. Actually, that makes the most sense, doesn’t it?

Horror seeped into my expression, alongside a full-fledged jolt of fear. I began retracing my colleagues’ whereabouts during the mission, and cursed my shoddy memory. The guilt I’d felt over being out in public, as a human exterminator, had left me preoccupied with my own issues. What if I had missed a clue to the killers’ identity?

Shit, what if Rauln was responsible for it? The hostile Venlil was the one to discover the body, and he was the most resistant to my theory now.

“W-will? You just went very pale,” Fyron mumbled. “Are you okay?”

My own voice lapsed to stutters. “F-fine. Just dandy.”

Volek narrowed her eyes. “What were you about to say?”

“Er, j-just that someone…someone knows when exterminators are coming. They’re using you as cover. All the, um, r-reports are different predators. Your theory falls apart from that. It can’t be one venomous creature.”

The room felt stuffy and hot on a dime, as though the AC had broken down. I uncorked my water bottle, chugging it as though my life depended on it. Ringing assaulted my ears, and I struggled to keep my suspicions under wraps. If the killer was one of my coworkers, and they realized I was closing in on them…

Accusing the wrong person would be a disaster. Just because Rauln found the body and acts like an ass, it doesn’t mean it was him. I act like an ass, and I didn’t kill anyone…except my family, indirectly.

Fyron tilted her head with concern. “S-stars…you’re right.”

“Besides, what wild predator kills and doesn’t eat their food?” I feigned confidence, and tried to keep my hands from shaking. “We need to review all the cases where the body wasn’t eaten, er, down the line that is.”

“Alright. You’ve made your point, Will,” Volek said. “Let’s say I accept your disturbing version of events. What do we even do?”

“The gents at the UN are searching for any DNA or biological evidence, so we don’t have to worry about that. They’ll also determine cause of death, and any internal damage that isn’t visible to the naked eye. We should request a toxicology report.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Is that it? Do we just wait on that information?”

I racked my brain for crime shows I’d streamed, and attempted to filter out the fantastical elements Hollywood threw in. If only there was actually a computer program that, by punching in three variables, could crack the case and give us a home address. Actual cold cases could sit for years, and those ones hadn’t burned their evidence. Depending on how long ago the prior attacks were, there could be no one left who remembered them.

“First off, we need to collect ‘witness statements’ from anyone at the scene. Any detail they remember, no matter how small, could help our investigation,” I answered. “Anything out of the ordinary, like someone watching the park the day before. Maybe someone talked to the victim…maybe someone was seen running from the scene.”

Volek drew a calming breath. “Okay. We can handle that.”

“Good, because that’s the easy part. You need to also collect alibis from different witnesses; their stated whereabouts at the time of the crime. You find inconsistencies in those, maybe you crack the whole case.”

“That’s a good idea. It’s suspicious if someone is lying…probably means they did it.”

“Or they know who did, Volek. Could be an accomplice, or could be afraid of retribution for speaking out.”

“I see.”

“You also want to know about the victim’s life; she could’ve met the perpetrator at another location. She could’ve been lured to where they wanted to kill her, or the body could've been dumped separate from the real murder scene. Talk to friends and family, and see if they know anything out of the ordinary.”

“You think the killer befriended her?” Fyron shrieked.

“Maybe. Oh, and last thing–get security footage from every camera nearby, and scrub it with a fine-tooth comb. Anyone with videos on their mobile devices could have those analyzed too. The more techy side of this guild could handle that bit.”

Rauln growled with suspicion. “How do you know all this, predator? Were you planning to kill someone on Earth…or have you already done it?”

“I’m not a predator, and the only person I might kill is you. Get the fuck out of my briefing room! At least Luala has the sense to stand there and look dumb.”

“Thanks?” the Krakotl squawked.

“You know what, you’re fucking welcome! Now Rauln? Get movin’! Don’t let the door kick you in the ass.”

The Venlil exterminator shot me a look of unfettered loathing, before skulking out of the briefing. A weight was lifted from my chest, with my prime suspect not standing in the room. Perhaps I should search through Rauln’s things when I got an opportunity; I’d be watching him with a close eye.

I pumped my fist in a triumphant gesture. “Good riddance, right? Now, I’m sure you guys don’t know much…but I want a copy of every case attributed to the Intestine-Eater. And I’d like a synopsis of everything you know.”

“That’s why I brought Luala here,” Volek replied, in a pointed voice. “She was assigned to tracking this predator. She’s been following it from the start, or close to it.”

“Very well. Go on, little birdie. Sing your heart out.”

Mild irritation flashed in the Krakotl’s eyes. “My name is Luala.”

“Fine, Luala. Get on with the info. Or are you waiting on a love sonnet written just for you?”

“Will! You’re being a prick again,” Fyron hissed.

I huffed dismissively, and my facial features hardened. My hands reached for the remains of my lunch, and I popped more food in my mouth. I made sure to stare the Krakotl directly in the eyes, while tapping my foot with expectancy. Luala trilled in exasperation, flapping her wings with discomfort.

“The Intestine-Eater first struck on Nishtal,” she began. “That’s why I was transferred to this office; it was to continue our pursuit of the predator.”

I chortled with disbelief. “Oh my gosh! The killer traveled across planetary borders, and you what…thought it stowed away on a spacecraft?”

“Just let me finish! Here. This is the lone photograph of the Intestine-Eater’s first kill. The victim was elderly, and ripped apart in her own backyard. Innards…yanked from her stomach, one of the pred…the killer’s most violent assaults.”

Luala pulled up a digitized image on her holopad, and transferred it to mine. Bile rose in my throat at the gory sight. The corpse was already rotting in the photo; it had been there for days without being found. Despite it being a Krakotl that was slain, I felt a morsel of pity. However, on a less treasonous note, this did lend credence to my theory of the killer being a Krakotl. Maybe even Luala–oh shit, that would be awesome.

“I’m surprised you guys didn’t torch the corpse,” I grumbled, coughing to mask my nausea. “A photo of a body? How predatory!”

“Don’t mock the dead! Look, the case was profoundly upsetting to the officer assigned to it, enough so to make him quit the exterminators guild. His partners had to talk him into going through with standard fire procedure. He became obsessed with catching the predator, and transferred to the military due to his failure.”

“Sounds like a fine suspect. Can you interview this guy, and see what he knows?”

“That might be possible for you to speak with him, but I d-don’t think I can establish contact. You might want to expedite your plans, before the United Nations…finishes him off.”

“What are you saying? He attacked Earth?!”

The Krakotl took a shuddering breath, and folded her wings in a submissive gesture. Fury swelled in my chest anew, leading me to take aggravated steps forward. A vicious scowl overtook my face, charged with hatred for those who participated in my family’s attack. But how did Luala know that this monster didn’t die during the battle?

“It…it w-was…” Luala’s words were choking gasps; she was unable to complete her thought.

Fyron raised a tentative paw. “Kalsim.”

My vision tunneled, as white-hot rage rose to its crescendo. Self-awareness diminished, hearing the name of the one who spearheaded my people’s genocide. There was no chance I was asking that bastard, who should’ve gotten the chair, for information on the case. Our extermination office could be self-sufficient, if he was our best source.

I cracked my knuckles, and tried to restrain myself from a complete meltdown. What I needed was to focus on the task at hand…to get to the bottom of this fiasco. Wouldn’t it really stick it to Captain Kalsim if a human solved the famed case he couldn’t? Spite was the only motivation I required to proceed.

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A/N - Part 4 of the miniseries! Will convinces the exterminators that this kill is a murder, while only partially revealing his suspicions of an inside job. Our human narrator decides to take the investigation into his own, unqualified hands after learning that Kalsim bungled the original case (Chapter 64).

Who is the serial killer (and how would Kalsim react to learning the truth about the "predator attack?" Can William Kane ever find a way to be cordial with the vitriolic Rauln and Luala, whom he hates for being a Krakotl?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!