02 / video - WARNINGS FOR GORE, and Lucifer not giving any warnings for gore

[dissemble]

Now before I say anything, I want to remind you all not to shoot the messenger.

[Yes, Wonderland, the angel of light is still amongst you- and is making a rare video appearance on the network. Reasons for this will soon become apparent.]

Dean and I never saw eye to eye, but really-

[He pans the camera around as he speaks and...

Squeamish viewers will want to look away.

Apparently what is on your screen is Dean Winchester. It may be hard to tell, unless you are intimately acquainted with his internal organs.

There is a body strapped upright to a mirror in the ballroom, buck-ass nude and with all its inner parts on display. (ooc: that second link is to a drawing of a pig dissected.) The body has been carefully dissected, and the organs carefully pinned in place so that nothing will fall out. Well. Not all of organs, if you look closely. There's a small gap where the spleen should be.

Others have been relocated. The body is eyeless (they're on a chair in front of Dean) and thumbless (they're down the throat). The lack of blood indicates that someone has taken the time to drain Dean of all blood before setting him up here.

Lucifer doesn't seem to mind sharing all this with the network without a warning. One part of a human is the same as another, right?

Instead of sounding pleased - as one might expect from a being who would like to end all humans - his voice sounds resigned.] I suppose this is humanity for you.

Comments

video;

[oversight]

[ Ellen. She'll be smart about it. She's a tough cookie and she's invested in Dean, but she has to know not to move a body after something like this, right? Maybe Blake ought to message her anyway... ]

Yeah, we're— We were friends... at some point. [ That obvious, huh? He stiffens his back and focuses on somewhere that's not Dean on that video feed from Lucifer. ]

Do me a favor? If Ellen gets there and she looks like she might move him, maybe stall her a little? 'Til someone gets there?

[ Sure, Blake, just put everyone out in this situation. No big deal. ]

Re: video;

[dissemble]

The other someone coming is Sam Winchester, and I'm fairly certain he'll try to kill me.

[Lucifer could be letting Blake know how the weather is for all the lack of concern in his voice.]

video;

[oversight]

[ Yeaaaaaah. Well, at least he's using less concrete words that "I'm fairly certain he will kill me." Blake frowns deeply, even if the other guy's not watching his phone. ]

If you need the help, I can handle Sam. [ Maybe. ] He shouldn't move the body, either...

Re: video;

[dissemble]

[People actually killing him is not a concern Lucifer has ever had.]

Sam's just upset; he'll get a few hits in and then lose steam. He'll be okay.

video;

[oversight]

[ Yeeeeah, Blake's starting to get that impression. Needless to say, he's less interested in dissecting the dynamic as he is in getting to check out that body for clues. ]

Good. [ He'd better be okay. No one needs two dead Winchesters (said no bad guy ever.) ] That's the ballroom, right? Where you are? I can come by now...

video;

[dissemble]

No rush. Whoever tied him on here knew what they were doing. Every organ secured in place, almost.

video; Action okay? We could handwave, too, if you'd rather.

[oversight]

[ No rush? Ugh. Now this guy's a little too nonchalant. But Blake just reminds himself that he's got to deal with all kinds in this place, and he knows at least a few people who would act just the same around the dissected body of Dean Winchester. ]

Yeah... looks like. Be right there, okay? Hold tight.

action is fine! /o/

[dissemble]

[The feed abruptly ends on Lucifer's side.

Lucifer takes a moment to consider a world where a human tells him to hold tight in watching over the dead body of Dean Winchester. Well, things could be worse.

It is in such a state of thought that Blake will find Lucifer, sitting staring thoughtfully in the direction of Dean's corpse. He doesn't look up.]

He hasn't moved.

[OOC; Lucifer still has mind reading abilities- are you okay if he rifles through Blake's head to check on his relationship with the Winchesters or any other interesting information?]

[oversight]

[ Blake is considerably more tentative about entering this crime scene. So far, he's been at every crime scene he'd been alerted about, and so far, all of them have struck him on an extremely personal level.

Warily, he eyes Lucifer, very purposefully avoiding the body for the time being. Christ, this is fucked up. And he might not get along famously with Dean anymore, but he still cares. Probably too much, if we're being fair. ]

Thanks... [ It's dry and thin and John's even paler than usual, with maybe even a slightly green tinge because there's so many implications here. Morbidly, he wonders if Dean died first, or if he'd been bled out to death to ensure he could be pinned up like this.

Focus, Blake. Focus. ] Anyone else made it here yet?

[dissemble]

Do you want to take a moment first?

[oversight]

What? [ Have a pointed look, Lucifer. He doesn't need a moment (he does); he's totally a professional (but not today). ] No, I— I don't.

[ But it feels like a subtle shove in the right direction, if nothing else. Blake presses his lips together, bites his tongue, and takes a look at Dean's body.

What a mistake, man. A huge mistake. Almost immediately, John feels that cold seep through him and he works his jaw against the upset and anger and frustration inside as it goes from a simmer to a boil to enough steam to keep him going.

He lifts his phone to begin to snap pictures, but even that's a challenge when his hands are shaking so much, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. ]

[dissemble]

He's not the one you knew well, right?

[Lucifer watches the emotions run through Blake's head dispassionately. Human emotions were crass at best, and this was no different.]

[oversight]

[ Does he have to talk? Blake feels his hackles go up and he almost feels bad for it. This guy obviously isn't at fault here. ]

Wouldn't say I stopped knowin' him just 'cause he got reset, but maybe I'm just bein' pedantic. We're— we're just not close anymore.

[dissemble]

That must be hard.

[Sympathy levels: 0%]

I used to know him in my world. Him and Sam. He could be a little hard to get on with sometimes.

[oversight]

[ He's not looking for sympathy, and he'd prefer not to talk at all, if he's being honest with himself, but John nods anyway. Over time, he's learned more than enough about the people around him, but at this point, he just doesn't care to actively engage.

In front of him, Dean's splayed out and precisely pinned, eerily incomplete in ways that Blake has a hard time comprehending. With his eyes gone, with his blood gone, his face looks particularly gaunt and pale and extremely off-color.

The thumbs (or lack thereof) don't go without notice, nor the writing from the other side of the mirror. He snaps pictures of those areas as well, trying to quell the fast-tightening knot in his stomach. ]

You make the call — the announcement — soon as you found him, or did you wait? [ And then, abruptly: ] Was there anyone 'round when you arrived on scene that you can recall?

[ Stick to business. He needs to keep pressing forward; there's no time to stop and reminisce. ]

text; -> action; investigation social link START

[glumshoe]

[ Meanwhile, some quick and discrete knife-disposal achieved and a replacement for his tackle box secured, Will is finally on a tear toward the ballroom at Blake's request. Though it isn't as if he could stay out of it when he's been volunteered. ]

Almost there, keep the place clear if you can.

[ Some asshole just had to make it public.

As far as first memories of certain locations in Wonderland go, this one may usurp his introduction to the slab of desert carved out for Evelyn in the library. Carving, the act of it, the sounds of bones giving way to a saw momentarily overwhelm the hot fury at Hannibal, at the bystander who's still in the ballroom in spite of his act of "civic duty".

Quelling a snide comment at the stranger's presence, Will instead keeps a wary eye on him, watching all the way until he gets to Blake with a bitten off greeting. ]

Sorry I'm late.

[ The distinct blanched look of a man deeply affected and desperately trying to shove it down and keep professional is one he's seen over and over. No being okay like this. Get down to brass tacks, find out what the hell Hannibal is up to. He nods at Blake's phone. ]

What have we got?

[dissemble]

[Well, he had summoned Ned the Piemaker, who had dropped dough on the floor, reanimated Dean for almost two minutes and pulled his thumbs out of his throat with a pair of tongs and left the thumbs on the chair next to the eyeballs-]

I was alone when I found him, yes.

[And look at that- here comes Mr. Special Investigator himself. A quick brush through Will's head reveals a somewhat broken human with better powers of perception than most. Luckily- all he'll see looking at Lucifer's vessel is a man, recently widowed, with some kind of strange skin disease. Nothing suspicious at all.

He steps back as Will approaches, leaving them to get on with it. He doesn't leave.]

[oversight]

[ Arrived alone, huh? Blake believes that, at least, but something about the ball of dough proofing suspiciously nearby has him thinking there's more going on here than what's being copped to. He eyes Lucifer and then turns his attention to Will, holding out his phone to show he'd been taking pictures of the scene. ]

This guy, Dean, and— [ A tip of his head points to the outlying dough. ] —that. Bit outta place for a dissection if that's what this is s'posed to be...

[ John avoids putting his eyes on Dean's body. He knows he can't avoid it for good, but every moment that passes pushes him that much closer to not wanting to study, to not wanting to look at all.

He points to the chair, to those too-familiar eyes that are so out of place. Thumbs, too. Blake had missed those the first time around, too shocked to understand what they could be when they were also distant from their origins. ] Eyes, thumbs.

[ Another gesture. ] Writin' on the mirror. Doesn't— doesn't look like whoever it was saw who did this, though.

[ Is that it? Can he go now? Can he turn this over to someone who's a little more adept to handling this? Someone who doesn't feel cut up just the same at the image of a friend, however distant, hanging there.

He swallows thickly, knowing he can't and won't leave, but goddammit. ] That's— it. So far.

[glumshoe]

[ It doesn't take Will's perception to know that Blake's been bent out of shape over this, like he could take a lot of the heartbreak that comes his way because he could withstand scald from within and keep going. But the walls are thin and weak with loss, metal hammered too thin, and the heat just enfeebles and brings them down. He shouldn't have to be here. Jack Crawford's "bedrock" is not the support Will wants to have on offer.

Will takes an extra moment before observing each of what John points out in turn, a flat look shot at the hanger-on in passing, approaching the mirror's carvings first. He runs a bare hand off a few overhanging letters, frown deepening. ]

These are carved on the other side of the mirror. For whatever reason, one of the Queen of Hearts' pets is none too pleased that this Dean was attacked and displayed.

[ Hmph. Will didn't like him, but goddamnit Hannibal. Jaw squared, Will turns, making observations aloud, but soft, as if any of this could be made easier for Blake. ]

Thumbs are off center from the eyes, indicating they were removed and placed there. Someone removed them, would you have any idea?

[ Yes, you, Actual Satan. ]

[dissemble]

[Humans. Relying on the broken ones to find out what happened to the dead. There was something fitting there.

Interesting that this Will Graham seemed to already know who had done it.

He was interrupted in browsing through Will Graham's memories of Hannibal by the question.]

Me? I haven't touched him. [It was not the answer to Will's question, but it was the truth. ]

[glumshoe]

[ That's a specific answer to an unspecific question. Blake quietly confirms that the stranger was alone when the body was found, but the sick, false tremor hitting softly off the back of Will's mind is disquieting. The stranger is disquieting. And telling the truth, as far as Will can tell, but evasive in a vein that hasn't risen to the surface yet. It seems Will needs to tap a little more. ]

No, but someone did. [ If it was someone who came before the stranger why did they leave and not address the network, for one. Running on the assumption that this wasn't the case, ]

You were alone when you found him, but what about after?

[dissemble]

I was alone then too.

[It was the truth. Lucifer had inspected Dean's corpse alone, and then he had waited alone for some time before anyone else had arrived. He gives Will an honest look-

and if Will meets his eyes he will find genuine honesty projected there. No point distracting Will with details outside of Dean's murder.]

[oversight]

[ The back-and-forth draws John's attention, but the whole while he's focused on Winchester (or maybe just past him, because he's having enough trouble focusing as it is).

Where's the real scene of the crime? Who saw to that scene? What happened to the blood that used to be pumping through the hunter's veins? Why the eyes? Why the thumbs? And why would anyone tamper with the body?

The questions rattle around in the former cop's head like the first few coins in the piggy bank, too loud to ignore, so loud he actually expects the others to overhear. He's surprisingly vacant otherwise, purposefully avoiding too many fond memories, purposefully doing all he can to attend to the task at hand. ]

We're goin' in circles. [ Just his impression. ] Someone else was here. [ Period. End of story. ]

What sorta reason would anyone have to remove the— the thumbs? [ Suppressing his urge to walk around Wonderland and shake everyone he sees, Blake presses forward and crouches nearer to Dean's body, inspecting his hands and the floor around the display. ] Those are— they're severed post-mortem? Not here, though, not unless someone left the dough and took the bolt cutters, or whatever.

[ He shudders out a breath. ] —but it's a clean cut. Scalpel, maybe.

[glumshoe]

[ So intent on staring their third wheel down with mounting distrust in the face of perfectly rational answers that Blake's interjection is what jerks him back onto the main road. The dissatisfaction shows on Will's face, but it's a subject he can leave open in order to address Blake's worry, glancing over at the grief slowly treading Blake thin. ]

Yes. [ Not point in leaving it unconfirmed. This is why the questioning should press on, he wants to add, but getting the stranger to answer the question being asked in the spirit that it is being asked is evidently too much to ask. Will circles around to the pillow, scrutinizing the thumbs and the body. ]

He was drained elsewhere. Dissection and mounting post-mortem, as far as I can tell without a lab team. [ Pulling on a set of gloves, he tosses Blake a pair and brings the right thumb to the appropriate hand, turning it to compare, check for any loose skin tags that weren't taken on the severing, but - ]

It was done in one pass. A scalpel couldn't get through bone, and bolt cutters would pinch the skin in a distinct pattern. This was a knife. Heavy duty, sharp, likely the same one that was used to split open the chest and abdominal cavity.

[ But why the thumbs? What isn't he seeing? ]

[oversight]

[ Pulling on the gloves, he silently listens to Graham's assessment, nodding slowly as he lets the suggestions settle. For too long, he stares blankly at the latex and tells himself he doesn't have to touch anything if he doesn't want to, but Wonderland be damned if he's going to be rendered useless by his own issues. ]

Somethin' like a machete's not gonna be small enough or— or accurate enough, right? And that just— that definitely means the dough's outta place. [ It's not just a coincidence.

Blake finally lifts his gaze to inspect those carefully suspended organs, his mouth deeply downturned. He feels as scrutinized as Dean at the moment, but tries to remind himself there are more important concerns nearby. ]

Precise, like the others. 'Cept where someone's tampered... [ In his mind, that includes the thumbs. No one takes care to position everything so exactly, but leaves the thumbs haphazardly askew. ]

What's the message? Or the— the demand? Reflection? Repentance?