Thread: Mercury Milk

Morgan rubbed his hair. It was late and there was no need to look presentable in his own office, especially not when he was alone. Besides, he needed the comfort of a good ruffle. As the dirty blond fell into his green vision he looked through the facts again, spread over his desk. There wasn't much, but what they'd found was bat crap macabre. This had all the tells of sensationalism that could have people hounding him for details. Some of those people would have enough strings to pull that their anger would matter when the investigation didn't take the direction they wanted. He'd seen a few of these over his career. He straightened in his chair and sighed for clarity. She had been out, that wasn't unusual for a girl her age. Even when the hour got late her parents didn't call the authorities. Allyard was willing to bet the Ivory Group had people of their own to solve these kind of problems. Nina had also had an online life that deviated slightly from posting her newest shoes and best fashion related purchases. A prominent member of several communities where dark sexuality was centered, she posted often and intricately about her obsession with the product of male orgasm. After having read some of her writing, he found the events of her death described with her own words. While she used screen names and the forums she liked had adequate security, the murderer had been able to obtain crucial details about who she was, probably over other mediums. His hope was over the phone, since none of the tech team had been able to find anything incriminating in writing phone or computer. Maybe he should work closer with Taylor on this one. He leaned back so far he could look up in the ceiling. The list of suspects was long, but there were few that could have pulled this off. Motive to hurt the rich wasn't hard to find, but the gull and skill to do it out in the open was rare. None of the known enemies of the Ivory Group would have stooped to this. He needed to close his eyes for a while. Just a few minutes. And what do you know about the murderer so far? How did he do it? a reporter asked louder than the others in the puddle of flashing lights. A cleaner cut Morgan Allyard, well trained not to blink at all the cameras, regarded the question as it quieted the mass. He would have to answer it. Political face on. We would stress for the public to be vigilant at this point. We're not only going to catch this criminal, we are also here to protect all of you. he had to bring it back, or they would pick up on his avoiding the issue. So far we can only speculate on this person or group. For now we will shut down the unused warehouses and areas around them. Thank you. And then, a few weeks later, another clue, another murder. Isabelle Cruise was found face down in her aquarium, hands bound to the opposite side to keep her in place. It almost looked as if she had reached for something and fallen in. Or it would have, if it hadn't been for the rest of the ropes of her bare body, pressing her breasts together, squeezing her flesh. She had been bent around the fish tank, wrists connected to ankles by the special thread bindings. It could have been another perpetrator entirely if it hadn't been for her gaping anus, greeting the crime scene team as they entered through her apartment door. Lines of dried blood reaching out from that dark muscle, wounds inflicted by murderer and his signature giant. The carpet three-or-so inches from the soles of her captured feet was stained be a large area of wet darkness, around globs of thick seed. Trails down her thighs, dark hair swimming with the fish that nibbled on her widely open, blue eyes. Her body was still lush. More flesh on this woman than there had ever been on Nina. Breasts impossibly caught and pressed up against the glass because of the way they had been bound, ass welling out around the almost pried open asshole. Most of the fishes were dead, probably from the shock of the play - what a tragedy. Morgan didn't have the luxury of ruffling his hair this time. With the investigation going nowhere, and the DNA leading them to no one, he'd had to rely solely on Ange's work, which seemed to have been lead partially by the Ivory family and their indept underground contacts, or her intuition, which he suspected came from a source that didn't want to explain himself. Striding down the corridor of central hall, he was showered with questions already, PR of both his own instance and that of the Ivory group suggesting how he should go about this conference. And oh, the fucking mayor. Nevertheless he made it up to the podium, looking more svelte now than before - maybe the only good thing that had come from his ulcer. It had been a while since he'd gotten an update from Taylor. Some intel would have been nice, so he wouldn't have to go up there with the same nothing he'd had last time. Hello, Detective Taylor. He'd called her, and she'd answered promptly. He was never accused of being a technological genius, but he did know enough secrets to make a phoneline safe, especially for someone who wasn't allowed to look for him. Did you enjoy stalking the Lillyfeldt familly this week? Ever since he was informed that Ange Taylor was on the case, he couldn't help but string her along. He never meant for this to be a game for the detectives, but when this one had caught his eye. At first it had been a demonstration how too many fetishes dealt with terminal extensions. After all, if you want to submerge yourself in something, you have to let it engulf you. And that was how he justified having her look up snuff on her computer, visit bondage clubs, and lately, investigate a incestuous family. All under the promise of him going to meet her if she did what he said. Mostly it was to educate her, get her inside the mind of the deviants, as if she hadn't gone there many times herself. That's why he liked her. She was tethering. Don't you love how the teen twins try to make time for each other while pleasing mom and dad too? You've been doing such good work, I think I'll wanna see you soon. How does thursday sound, in the parking lot under the old Ivory apartment building.