The Portal
The Portal
3:33 in the morning, on a dark and rainy night in southern Spain. Another Magnificent echo of a city, buried in absolute plasma and mud. Another scene of horror. Was it 1893 or 3033? The thought didn’t resonate anymore. None remembered the ‘when’, or the ‘how’. All left were remnants of a muddied social control, or seekers of vengeance through flood. This night was a darker shade than usual, and more so than any other formerly. Imagine the cursed-red stained blood from the glorious petrified Cathedral’s crime scene floor was the reason for the tone. It was electric. It spoke to any who viewed it. The blood covered nearly half the main sanctuary. It had a certain eminence flowing up to the altar, to the large dome above. To be alive, even after removal. “Have you ever seen anything like this before, Inspector Venustas?” began the forensic officer. “I guess you haven’t been with us on the previous crime scenes?” she said with a sense of being aced to the whole situation. “This marks the fourth different crime scene, in all four different countries, by using the same M.O. on the victims and the buildings. “And you’ve followed it this far? What drives this kind of reckless anger? If you don’t mind me asking, Inspector”, the forensic officer said, blushingly. “Maybe sheer curiosity of where anger can go? Or maybe something else entirely?” She continued, “Each of these crime scenes have a certain quality to them, all of which are portraying uniqueness to the buildings we’ve seen so far”. While speaking, a heart-shaped locket fell from the top of her closed buttoned shirt as she was examining one of the numerous decapitated bodies, lying near the altar floor. “He is so reckless,” she stalled slightly, “but very methodically chaotic, if you can follow that thinking.” What was so reckless about that scene was that all the heads were removed, but yet the bodies were left strewn about, overlooked. “Why would he need the heads?” she thought aloud. “How do you know it is a ‘he’?” the forensic officer said, with a quite puzzled look. “I for one don’t think a woman could be so reckless and brutal…no offense,” she said proudly. While the forensic officer was thinking of something to respond to that remark, Inspector Venustas seemed to have dashed off, in search of more answers to this puzzling crime scene. She was standing quietly, near the decapitated bodies, gazing at her reflection in the pool of blood nearest to the front door. “There is something odd here,” she thought to herself. The Inspector would have thought this a form of clairvoyance had it not been for the slight buzz on her right pant leg. It was her phone buzzing. “Yeah,” she said almost as if rudely interrupted by the call. “Yeah, this is Specialized Crimes Director Noble, and I was wondering what Intel you have?” he said. She responded, “Right, hello sir,” and she continued, “As of right now, we seem to be stumped on the same situation as the previous 3.” “It seems that the heads are…I know sir…thank you sir…Goodbye sir,” she said rather quickly. “What would a SCD want that we could have just told him in the morning?” she thought. “Maybe the HEADS are taking extra precautions on this one?” said the forensic officer laughingly. “Maybe” she said, “or maybe…? Another Inspector calling to her from down what seemed to be the basement of the Cathedral suddenly stopped her. “Venustas!!” said he. “We’ve found the victims' heads, but there is more,” he continued. The Forensics’ officer looked at Inspector Venustas with amazement. “I’ll be there in a second,” she said, “Maybe I should call Director Noble back?