No Rest
William Barnett didn't just kill his wife. He butchered her. He used the checkered floor of their kitchen to perform the task. Bit by bit he ferried her down to the dumpster. The head went first. The rest of her body eventually followed. It took him three trips, both hands overburdened with heavy duty garbage bags. The plan was fool proof.
Or so he thought.
The dump truck that was scheduled to service his area never arrived. In Gotham City, spontaneous union strikes are not at all unheard of. Sandra Barnett, or rather the smell of her decaying body, did not go unnoticed. Three days after being abandoned, the neighbors began to complain. William Barnett was arrested in a matter of hours. The cleaver was still in his possession. The arresting officer of record was Detective Renee Montoya.
The proceedings blew through in record time. The court would have sentenced him to 28 years. It never had the chance.
William Barnett, rather than face the prospect of imprisonment, hung himself in the confines of his cell before judgment could be passed.
One less psycho.
Cris had delivered the news himself. Three days ago. As she walks into the office this morning, the event has all but slipped her mind. She has other fish to fry. Current cases to pursue. There isn't enough room in her brain for all the names that have been erased. She closes the door behind her as she enters.
William Barnett is waiting for her. Tones that were once a healthy shade of pink are now a rotten grey, punctuated by streaks of blue. His shredded prison issue jumper hangs on his body two sizes too large. Eyes that were green are now black and piercing. The expression on his face can be not be mistaken for anything but fury.
A split second is all it takes for Montoya to recognize him. Her mouth drops open and her eyes bulge. Instinct kicks in and her service weapon is out and on target. "FREEZE!"
The early morning sunshine streams in through the window beside him. After a moment, it seems to travel through him. Dissolving him as it shines. Montoya watches in horror as the man she thought dead disappears into nothingness.
She's once again alone. Breathing raggedly, she lowers her gun. She glances around the small space. Searching. Frantically. For something... anything... that will prove she's not going loco.
Nothing.
Pause.
"What the fuck... was that?"
Or so he thought.
The dump truck that was scheduled to service his area never arrived. In Gotham City, spontaneous union strikes are not at all unheard of. Sandra Barnett, or rather the smell of her decaying body, did not go unnoticed. Three days after being abandoned, the neighbors began to complain. William Barnett was arrested in a matter of hours. The cleaver was still in his possession. The arresting officer of record was Detective Renee Montoya.
The proceedings blew through in record time. The court would have sentenced him to 28 years. It never had the chance.
William Barnett, rather than face the prospect of imprisonment, hung himself in the confines of his cell before judgment could be passed.
One less psycho.
Cris had delivered the news himself. Three days ago. As she walks into the office this morning, the event has all but slipped her mind. She has other fish to fry. Current cases to pursue. There isn't enough room in her brain for all the names that have been erased. She closes the door behind her as she enters.
William Barnett is waiting for her. Tones that were once a healthy shade of pink are now a rotten grey, punctuated by streaks of blue. His shredded prison issue jumper hangs on his body two sizes too large. Eyes that were green are now black and piercing. The expression on his face can be not be mistaken for anything but fury.
A split second is all it takes for Montoya to recognize him. Her mouth drops open and her eyes bulge. Instinct kicks in and her service weapon is out and on target. "FREEZE!"
The early morning sunshine streams in through the window beside him. After a moment, it seems to travel through him. Dissolving him as it shines. Montoya watches in horror as the man she thought dead disappears into nothingness.
She's once again alone. Breathing raggedly, she lowers her gun. She glances around the small space. Searching. Frantically. For something... anything... that will prove she's not going loco.
Nothing.
Pause.
"What the fuck... was that?"