From the Case Files of Detective Inspector Sichs D. Kaynine (Force Identification # 60K9)
File Under: Missing Persons
I was sent to the scene of a suspected Missing Persons early in evening. Witnesses were surprisingly pliant--natural garrulousness paired with fermented liquid loosed their tongues. Also, apparently, their clothing. Many were down to leis and shells alone by my arrival.
The following is an account of the night of 2/23/17, from approximately 8PM EST to 8PM PST, as pieced together through their slurred testimonies and my own observations.
As willing as they were to talk, interviewing these people proved complicated by their constant use of assumed names, as well as their seeming inability to interact like humans.
“Ma’am, Just where is Ryan at this point?”
“One of the virgins was so fancy! Suit shirt and tie! What a virgin move!!!”
“That was not the questi--wait, sorry, do you label people based on their sexual experiences?”
“OMG, caaaaaaaar! Don’t get dead!”
There was something strange going on here, I was sure of it.
But they ran. In this business, we call that suspicious. Suspicious enough that a fellow lawman took the cue to stop, fittingly, one “Stop & Fuck.” The officer was shaken by his encounter. I didn’t have the heart to ask whether the suspect lived up to his alias.
Meanwhile, I attempted to speak with more of them.
“Sir, could you recount what you know about about Ryan, Just the facts, if you please.”
“Can I get a note please?”
“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII FUCKED A DEAD WHORE BY THE ROADSIDE”
“I knew very well she was dead,”
“The skin was all gone from her body,
The hair was all gone from her head!”
“Uhm. Right, but…”
“And after the fucking was over,
To atone for my terrible sin,”
“Oh no. Please stop.”
“I anchored my lips to her asshole,
And sucked out the wad I shot INNNNNNNNNN!”
“...I think I’ll leave that case to a different detective.”
There’s something wrong with these people.
“Virgins” were shamed for pointing, instead instructed to gesture only with elbows [Note: google “dabbing,” see if relevant?]. One member was accused of “causing blindness” after an unsuccessful striptease. Upon reaching a glyph scribbled by those that came before [Reminder: look into whether “Hares” are a deity of some sort?], the group formed a circle--jostling each other by their crotches--and squated into a groaning and shouting “human centipede.”
I’ve been at this job for many a year, but… but I could neither look away, nor bring myself to truly see the horror in front of me.
They set out. I follow, still under the illusion that speaking to them would be useful.
“Ma’am, I’m really Just interested in the whereabouts of Ryan.”
A whistle blared. Shouting. Runners shifting directions.
“Just tell me what you know about Ryan.”
A man Jumped wildly in front of us.
“JUST what happened to RYAN, ma’am?!”
Her response was meaningless.
I began to despair.
The leader rose, and for a brief moment I could finally see the center of the tumult--the man I was searching for, Just… Ryan.
With the power invested from this unholy group, the leader pronounced a new name:
And just like that, Ryan was gone.
Was he pushed into this downward spiral, or did Ryan Just Jump?
I’ll never know.