The Tale of Ragdoll

Someone's Gotta Lose

He sat quietly in the dining room at the dinner table, alone in the dark.... This was normal for him. He often reflected on his life and how it was so different from what he'd imagined as a young boy. His life was meant to be a happy one filled to the brim with love and affection, complete with a happy family. He married the love of his life fifteen years ago. Dorthea, she was his world, his queen. Dorthea began to detach herself randomly; it seemed, and it began with late nights and cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes. Then it evolved into her staying out some nights and then every night, and then she just wouldn't come home, only to get clean clothes. After a while, he finally had a moment to ask her why, and she told him she had a boyfriend, Roal, and that if he didn't like it he could leave, but he couldn't. He was hers, she was in him now, body, and soul. He wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't live with the idea of living without her. He knew it wasn't manly, but he didn't care. Work became his solace from his cold solitude that was his home life, even if that had begun to change. About eight years ago he was promoted to Detective; he was even given an office of his own! It was a forgotten janitorial closet on the second floor of the building; it was barely big enough for his desk; his name still hadn't been put on the door; nor did he have a plaque with his name on it. At first he assumed it was because everyone was too busy to put in the work orders; but now he was starting to suspect that it was because no one remembered his name. No one remembered him or even listened to him; he had solved most of the open cases each year months before they were solved, because no one had listened to him when he told them who he expected to be the suspects and why.

"Chief, I think I figured out these cases, with the fingernails. The first murder, at The Burnt Bardbarian, there was a witness that has shown up at four of the five murders. Noone has brought her in for questioning yet so I would like a warrant to bring her in for questioning." He said as he held out the thick Manila folder to illustrate his point before he had made it.

The Chief had been standing with his arms crossed, leaning against his desk, while he stared at a white board off to his left that had a picture of each victim as well as the causes of deaths from each victim. The chief looked past him before letting out an exasperated sigh and walking around his desk to take his seat. He folded his arms as he leaned against his chair.

"So Let me get this straight. You want to go arrest a victim of attempted r**e who also happens to be a young woman of color and impoverished during a time where the police, nation wide are being accused of systematic prejudice against woman, woman of color, the younger generations, and poor people. You really don't see how all of that on top of the fact that Miss Flint committed no crimes is just not a good idea." The chief searched his eyes for some semblance of intelligence.

"Sir, you dont find it suspicious that four of the five of the horrific crime scenes had her as a witness as well as the creature that the first victims reported that she turned into in fron of their eyes? I actually have a theory why we keeping finding finger nails that have no DNA, at least not any that can be recognized by our tests, at the crime scenes in the bullet wounds of the victims." He animatedly argued, talking with his hands ending, up touching his own fingernails to help illustrate his point.

"No Adams, I have no idea why you keep coming up with these hair brained theories." The chief dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"With all do respect sir, my name isnt Adams its-"

The chief interrupted him before he could finish.

"Get on with it, I have murders to solve!" The Chief angerly exclaimed while slamming his giant fists on his mahogany desk.

"The ring was created by a trickster god, I think Loki, to create Choas into the world for their entertainment. Each ring reacts differently, but this one changes its host into an unrecognizable character. I think the ring changes her fingers to bullets. Do you remember how murders two and three had different colored nails from one and four but four had different coloring to all of the others. I think Miss Flint was painting her nails to see if the nails left at the crime scene were hers. This tells me to some extent she remembers the events that take place when she wears the ring. This makes her copuble for the crimes she commits while wearing the ring. The crimes are getting more and more brutal so I worry the ring is corrupting her. I feel for her safety it is necessary to end this quickly, for her sake as well as the sake of the people we protect." He finished in a huff with satisfaction. He was well aware it sounded ridiculous, but it was also probable,, and surely the Chief would see the pieces coming together as he did when he discovered the rings.

"Get out of my office." The Chief said calmly, but his anger boiled just under the surface and could be felt in the atmosphere of the room like thick thunder clouds before a nasty storm. "I should have your badge for this, People have died, now is not an appropriate time for jokes and fun. Have some decorum! Now get out of my office and take the week off." The chief scolded angrily as he got up, walked over to the door, and held it open for him to leave. When he did, the Chief slammed the door shut behind him.

This was a normal exchange that he had become accustomed to over time. They always ignored him; that was nothing new. What bothered him was the note he found in his bathroom mirror when he returned home that evening at exactly 6:30pm.

'We know you see us, now you know, we see you too. Poor Bastard with no name. With love Shenanigunz and Ragdoll'

Oh, now this is war. He pulled the bullet out of his glass and shot the bourbon before holstering his gun and putting his badge on his hip and getting his jacket on. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to start with Shannon Flint.