The second worst thing after being left unconscious was to find out where you wake up. For Mortis the waking up came with the horrible face of Sergeant Clancy Wilson looking over him, his sour mug nearly making think Mortis that he had gone to hell, although this was a pretty close second.
Mortis had been laid on a spare stretcher on the porch of the house while the paramedics worked on the Officer who got into he scene and had been badly injured.
"The nerve of you Bastard!" Wilson spoke with indignation, but little pride as a cop. "There is a rookie with a fractured skull and his faced crashed by you blowing up the damn kitchen!"
Mortis tried to collect the last thoughts in him mind before the darkness took over, and thus asked a basic question borrowing from the sentence uttered towards him.
"Explosion?"
"Yeah! That fucking gas explosion you set in the kitchen! Did you use that canon of yours to set the place up? They had to put out the gas fire before they can get you lot! I am telling you, you and that darn mutt of yours should have left to burn in there" stated Wilson.
Mortis's mind flared up with urgency at the mention of his dog, the whine sound playing in his head as the painful cry made him want to kick his won ass.
"Cicero! Where is Cicero!?" Mortis stood up, but two officers made sure to grab Mortis by the shoulders, shoulder that, to the police officers surprise and worry, were incredibly solid.
"I need to see my Dog!" Mortis remained composed and cool, he knew Wilson would do anything that would land Mortis into further trouble than he was, the Detective had to be careful, even under such dire situations.
Wilson got to Mortis's face, the Police Sergeant knew how important was Cicero to Mortis, and the man was one to allow cruelty to happen, only if it amused him. "You should care of yourself first! I see a long stay in prison for you."
Mortis hardened his gaze and lowered his tone to a more menacing statement: "I need to see my dog".
Wilson was taken aback by the insistence and its tone, Mortis was supposed to be begging, not demanding.
"Look you bastard, I have some runt that needs stitches and a full cast, had to deal with the full arsenal you were carrying, some sort of street thug dead, a weeping bitch begging for her useless husband, and a bomb blowing in this God Forsaken place. As far as I am concerned you are going to rot in the slammer before you see that mutt of yours!" shouted Wilson in an empty bout of intimidation which did not impress the Detective.
Mortis spoke again, slower, more menacing in tone: "I. Need. To. See. My. Dog".
The Police Sergeant felt the aura that accompanied the words. Mortis looked like a mess, his hands down and cuffed, his body covered in bruises, his face dirty and tired, and yet Wilson could feel the underlining threat: Mortis, in his debilitated state, was far more dangerous than Wilson and his little posse could ever be, and the only reason Mortis was not snapping the cuffs and shoving Wilson's head up his own fat ass was The Detective's belief in the importance of the strong obeying the rules. Wilson could feel it, and he did not know how to react, the fat sergeant tried to find support among the officers surrounding Mortis, but the short sighted fat ass had not taken into account that the men were not part of his in group, and thus were giving him very dirty glances after the way he had referred to their fellow officer and the crying woman. Realizing then and there he needed to get some pressure off he relented, mostly to get away from Mortis.
"Officers, take this man to see his dog, then put him on the back of the car" said Wilson as he ambled away as fast as could.
The officers silently escorted Mortis to the neighbouring garden where Cicero was lying on his side as a man in his pajamas that had all the telling of a veterinarian tended to the dog. The poor beast gave shallow breaths as his eyes where blindfolded, one of his front legs was bandaged, and his body was covered by a sheet.
"How is he doctor?" Mortis asked as he kept the best straight face he could, inside he wanted to punch himself for letting his friend be mangled like this.
"He is doing better than I expected, had to give him a sedative though. Ribs seems to have survived a very strong impact with very little damage, but he had a nasty splinter on his leg so he will have to be off his left paw for a couple of weeks" explained the veterinarian.
"Thank God" Mortis said in a low sigh of relief.
"If you don't mind I would like to take him to my clinic for observation, just for a day" said the Veterinarian.
"You have done more than enough Doctor, I have a family Veterinarian, send Cicero there and he will cover your expenses" said Mortis.
The local veterinarian agreed, Mortis handed the contact information and patted his friend one last time before the officers escorted the Detective to the back of a police car.
Mortis tried to absorb what had happened, what he had seen. The man, the victim, had been fully possessed, his body morphed and twisted in the shape only abominations could. Whatever he was after it was not his garden variety issue: Not a demon, or at least a standard demon, or a magical beast, or some sort of mutation, it was either something he had never seen before, or something he knew doing tricks he either did not know could happen or he could not recognize because he did not know what the thing he was dealing was, yet.
The Officers were kind enough to let a paramedic perform a check-up on Mortis before loading him onto the back of the car. The Paramedic remarked how unique of a specimen Mortis happened to be, far more solid than any man they had ever treated before, and that included prison thugs and muscle-heads. Mortis went slowly, reported a series of fake pains that would buy him some time and waited patiently, he had been paying attention to police radios.
Not soon Mortis was given the green light to be taken to a Police Station the Forensic team arrive to the scene, and with them was the Police Chief. Mortis made sure to make himself being noticed by Rhodes, to which the Chief took note and acted as expected.
"What is the matter with this man officer?"
"Sergeant Wilson told us to take into custody Sir" said one of the officers.
"Under wht charge?" the Chief gave a stern frown, the officers stuttered.
"W-we are just following orders…"
"Do we throw people into prison for no reason at all? Is that how this place works?"
"N-no I don't think so…"
"Then release this man and go get his stuff!"
"B-but he had a gun and…"
"This is America! Unless a man is blowing people's heads on the streets everyone over the legal age can have as many guns as they want. Or did anyone suddenly repelled the American Constitution?" asked Rhodes with the rhetoric of a school teacher addressing a confused child.
The officers fumbled as they took the handcuffs off and immediately went to their new task as Mortis stretched.
"Good timing" said Mortis.
"You are lucky the idiot cannot pin you for nothing, or I would be in trouble" said Rhodes. "Then let's make this count" said Mortis.
"Tell me what the hell happened in there?" asked Rhodes.
"Whatever we are dealing with, is nothing I have seen before" stated Mortis.
Rhodes's jaw dropped, he was not expecting that kind of bad answer.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Rhodes asked, trying to understand the nature of the answer, hoping that it may have been a mistake.
"Whatever is killing people can possess them and make their bodies do impossible things. I do not know what we are dealing with" explained Mortis.
"But you have a lead, right? A way to track it?" Rhodes tried looking into a silver lining but Mortis shoot the optimism down.
"Maybe."
"What do you mean by maybe?" Rhodes grew more frustrated at the answers.
"I do not know what it is, but I may be able to find out" explained Mortis.
"You can still track it down? Maybe it hasn't gone too far away" said Rhodes.
Mortis shook his head and lowered his gaze in shame. "Cicero could, if he was not part of the wounded."
Rhodes decided not to push it.
"I need access to the crime scene" said Mortis.
"Look, I just got you off the hook. Don't push your luck" stated Rhodes. Helping Mortis was one thing, but having Wilson see direct confirmation of Rhodes collaborating with Mortis, that could spell disaster.
"I need to inspect one of the bodies, the one of the kid with the hoodie, the sooner the better" pointed Morits.
"Look, there is too much on my plate right now, I cannot just do this an expect to not have issues later on" explained Rhodes.
Mortis was in no mood to get lip from the man he helped get his job, as far as he understood it saving people came before any power play, it was must be done, and damn the consequences.
"You want this nightmare to end, either you get me in or every door after now will be an exit in your life, you choose Chief" stated Mortis, dead serious on his threat.
Rhodes stared back at Mortis, the man knew he was on a leash, but even he had limits, and seeing the bigger picture and the rode ahead he challenged.
"So that is it? I am just another pawn for you to use and abuse? I knew I was going to compromise when you approached me, but I assumed you would play it smart and honorable, but if I am just another pawn to control and discard then pull the rug from under my feet. If this has to be the end of my career let it be, but at least I will not let you do to me what you asked me to fight against" stated Rhodes dead serious.
Mortis look into the Chief's eyes, he saw the same determination he had seen the first time he had extended his hand to help, in exchange for his cooperation. Mortis knew he had a few extreme methods to keep things in line, but he wanted to be better than the life he had before, better than his father, and this was being the same. Mortis was in pain, and he was using it as an excuse, he knew he was better than that.
"I am sorry" Mortis spoke looking away.
"Either way, if you need to look into the body I will bear the brunt of it" said Rhodes.
"If you were going to help me anyway why put such a fight?" asked Mortis now confused at Rhodes.
"To remind you we are partners, maybe not equal, but we are partners. And also to remind myself that I should not give so much of a damn to Politics in my unit, I am Chief, I am in charge!" pointed Rhodes.
"So…"
"Follow me" indicated Rhodes.
Mortis was escorted by the Chief into the house where John was hard at work with a small team of forensics with Wilson looking over the scene running the clock, he was completely zoned out up until Mortis appeared behind Rhodes.
"What is he doing here?" Wilson shouted, pointing at Mortis and forgetting he was talking to his superior.
"Is there a problem Sergeant Wilson?" Rhodes asked, emphasizing rank, reminding Wilson of his place in the force.
"Chief Rhodes" Wilson hurried to acknowledge, realizing the mistake he had just made.
"Sergeant Wilson, I want you out there, helping keep an eye on the perimeter, and combing nearby houses for our killer" ordered Rhodes.
"B-but he is a suspect. We found him here with a gun and the corpse" said Wilson.
"And you can prove he is the man that shot the dead guy, right?" Rhodes stared Wilson in the eye, Wilson tried his best, but the man was not that brave, not when alone, and if Wilson was bothering the forensic team it meant his 'friends' were doing some light job around the area.
"You cannot do this Chief, he is a charlatan, the Union doesn't like him" pointed Wilson.
"Then let the Union deal with it, for the time being he is a witness and consultant, so you better not mess with him" ordered Rhodes.
Wilson looked away in defeat and uttered a simple "Yes Sir".
"I would suggest to focus efforts in patrolling streets and keeping an eye for drunk and lonely people walking around the streets. The killer has proved to be an opportunist, although I doubt that the killer will try to hide in a house again after being cornered, too many risks. The killer will flee until he feels safe, then kill again" explained Mortis.
"Thanks Mr. Mortis" said Rhodes, then turning to Wilson "Well, you heard our consultant, go!" ordered the Chief.
Wilson puckered his face and bitterly passed Mortis uttering a low "You will pay for this" threat to the Detective before Mortis was left with Rhodes, John, and a couple of forensics working on the latest victim.
"Okay Mortis, I have a dead teenager riddled with bullets, a destroyed kitchen, a missing husband, and the press and major hounding my every move, what can you do about it?" asked Rhodes.
"Missing husband is the new vessel of your killer, this thing jumps from host to host. Hey John" Mortis saluted the forensic working on the corpse.
"Hey Mortis. You won't believe this…" began John as he lifted the corpse's right arm which Mortis anticipated.
"Let em guess, you have seen that wound before, it was on the Antique dealer" said Mortis.
John nodded frantically "Yes, I see you have studied the files thoroughly".
"Haven't read a letter, I just know that in my field of work weird wounds are far more than a fetish or freak accident, they are the trail you follow" pointed Mortis.
"How could you know then that the Antique dealer had the same wound?"
Mortis looked at John with the world's greatest poker face, to which John looked down in shame with a simple "Right". John kept forgetting that some things are obvious when you deal with forces outside of the realm of science.
"I also know that this kid was dead long before it got to the house" added Mortis as he ripped the teenager's hoodie, revealing the many bullet wounds in the chest and head.
"Did the man of this house did this?" asked Rhodes.
"No, this happened at an alleyway closer to the river, but I have a feeling that this man died a few days earlier" suggested Mortis as the Detective took a look at the young man, he was indeed in very good condition; Mortis inferred he could have been an inner city youth, probably a gang member and addict by the syringe holes in the forearm. But what caught everyone's eye was the hole in the young man's chest, a deep and dry stabbing. John took to the task of examining the wound, his expression was one of worry.
"Fascinating, this wound is indeed old but not fatal, it may have even been temporarily shut through sheer force of the surrounding muscles" pointed the Forensic, after prodding slightly deeper he was shocked at his discovery. "Bone and muscle has been lacerated and thorn, is a miracle it was able to move after that."
"You mean this guy closed this wound with his strength alone?" asked Rhodes perplexed.
"It seems so" sugegsted John.
Mortis looked into the wound, it was the same wound he found in the old homeless guy inside the large trash container, he was sure of it.
"What do you think Mortis?" asked John.
"I think, this creature tried to kill this man, but found it more interesting that its previous host, so he used the wound as the point to anchor itself and pull itself out of the old host" reasoned Mortis.
"You are making this thing sound like an alien parasite" commented Rhodes, to which Mortis only focused further, seemingly entertaining the possibility.
"An Alien! You think this could be an alien?" asked Rhodes in sheer disbelief.
Mortis stood up and went for the door. "Alien is a relative term Chief, but for what I know this thing is breaking too many norms of what I am used to deal with".
Short of words Rhodes looked at John for cues, but the forensic only returned a confused shrug, prompting the Chief to ask. "What are you going to do now?"
Mortis stood near the kitchen door where the police officer dispatched by Rhodes had come bearing his jacket, weapons, and hat. Once the Detective was back in full attire he said: "Now Chief, I need to do my homework, for next morning I have a date with a widow".
And so Mortis took to the streets, to prepare himself for the storm to come.