Investigation, the scene of slaughter

The Fool Arc

“We’re about to close, sir.” The cashier asks, after I stare at her for too long.
“Uh, sir?” She repeats, a little nervous, but still professional.
“Magical girls.” I say, glaring at her. She nervously looks over to one of the other cashiers, a guy.
“Magical. Girls.” I say again. Something pools and pours out of the corner of my mouth. A thick trail of black liquid. The cashier’s eyes widen in fear. But not for herself… no. Not yet.
“Sir, maybe you should see a doctor. That’s… not normal.” She says.
“Normal? Nnnormal?” I repeat, followed by a croaking laugh. She stumbles back and points towards a shelf.
“Over there… sir.” She directs me to a shelf full of Magical Girl stories. Not just manga, either; real stories. Fanzines that collect reports and suppositions, theories and wild conjecture. I stumble over to it, my body feels so sluggish now. I remember how strong it felt when I was transformed, how powerful. Yes. I want that. I want that strength again. I want that power again.

My hand drips the thick black substance on the display as I run my hands over it, smearing the books with black fingerprints.

“Oh, you uh, like Magical Girls?” The guy next to the rack sheepishly asks, trying to start conversation. How dare he. How dare he.
“Like them? LIKE them!?” I give out a snarling roar. He takes a step back, but I feel my strength growing again.
“The fu-” My fist drives through his throat, grabbing his spine from the front, and snapping it. The bones become dust. There’s screaming, and it sounds delicious. Each scream heals me. The injuries from that accursed girl patching up, one by one. I let out a laugh, feeling the black ichor dribbling from my mouth course over my body, changing it, hardening it. I turn to look at the store, the remaining customers, the cashier.

♖ Queen-Side Rook ♖

“Beginning crime scene reconstruction…” I say, mostly to myself, but a little part of me is pleased to hear a quick response from Boshi.
“Yes, ma’am! Crime scene isolated and reconstructing initiated!” She’s chipper, even in a situation like this… sometimes, I wonder about the mental state of fairies.

“First…” I crouch down and follow the blood trail from the entrance. It leads to a severed arm clinging in a death grip to the underside of a table. Likely, the victim was hiding there. The smears extending outwards and into the room at large indicated that the victim was hiding until something grabbed them and wrenched them out with such force that their arm snapped clean off.

I feel sick. The smell alone is too much. I keep walking around the blood-soaked carnage, careful not to disturb the puddles or leave footprints. The people weren’t just killed, they were torn apart. It looks like Bishop was right, Maniacals heal from fear. They feed on it, grow from it. The same way that kindness fuels our power. But this sort of murder… it’s on another level. It feels like I’ve entered the set of a macabre horror movie. I was always squeamish as a kid; even as an adult I close my eyes at the scary parts.

My metal boot clacks against something. I look down and see it’s a knocked over sign offering a sale on books now too damaged to ever sell. I look over at Boshi, who is now humming softly, like this is normal. Maybe I can request a new partner… The little fairy buzzes around me gently as I call my spell circle, tracing sigils to get a clear view of any exit points of the structure. The blood is fresh, so this must have been recent. Too recent. I check the seals are holding, and nod as the information comes back. The building is multi-story, of course, but being on the ground floor, this shop has access to the back alley and… a basement.

There’s no way we can let this sort of thing be noticed. It’s too… macabre. I look over at Boshi.

“Boshi… call clean up. Four casualties. We need cover stories.” It feels wrong to lie to their families, but if word of this spreads to the general public, the mass hysteria that follows would feed the Maniacal ever greater, and we’d never get a chance to stop it.
“Will do!” Boshi nods, and flies outside to signal for help, singing to itself.

I approach the door to the back alley slowly, and reach for the handle.
“Locked.” I curse inwardly. If it had been open, I’d have at least some sense of calm. But being locked means that the only place he could’ve fled to…

The door to the basement is behind the blood-soaked counter. Getting to it requires navigating around the carnage. A broken light fitting hisses and pops with sparks of electricity as I walk around it.

The door is unlocked, and very slightly ajar. I nudge it with my foot, and hesitate. I shouldn’t, but the close confines of a space like this will make my Resonance useless.

The staircase leading down into the basement is pitch black. It’s a stockroom according to the building plans I’d used my magic to conjure. It being completely dark is unusual, not to mention the danger it’d pose to anyone entering or exiting from the stairs.

I creep down, looking into what appears to be a small area. In the center is a man on a chair. Without thinking, I run forward and cup my hand to his chin.

“Are you alright?” I ask, looking him over for injuries. None. He stares at me, eyes wide and tears forming.
“Oh… oh god… my stomach…” He moans, clutching it. I look down in growing horror as I see his stomach distending, a huge skin-lump being pushed outwards towards me… no, it’s-

I dive backwards as the fist rips through the skin, splashing me and the room with blood. The horrific form of the Maniacal steps up from the shadows, flinging the man away like a poor toy. I land three-point style, looking up at him. The Maniacal. He’s… different. Even less human now, covered in red streaks of blood, shirtless. His skin is bulging out in muscles formed by the strange ichor.

“I’m Magical Girl Rook, and I’m here to put an end to your evil!” I declare boldly. The salivating monster doesn’t seem capable of understanding. The grotesque lump growing out of the side of his skull is clearly not extra brain matter. He takes a swing and I cartwheel back, before swinging in with a double kick to send him staggering. Without pause, I slide into position behind him and run towards his back, but he turns to face me with a sickening grin. His arm outstretches before I have time to change course, grabbing me around the throat…

Choking. I can’t breathe. I can’t…