Detective Watson and Inspector Anon VI

A fanfic where you, Anon, have just landed a job at Amelia Watson's detective agency. Escaping from a living nightmare, you were aided by... you're unsure what exactly, but there is a noticeable gap in your memory. Yet, this mysterious benefactor or twist of luck has yielded you a potential answer to solving this case! Will you find the missing piece to this puzzle or will the killings from The Omen continue? Find out below! Updated every weekend! Previous Chapter: https://rentry.co/gfspa As you can likely tell from my work down below, I'm a pretty amateur writer. I hope that through my posting and your criticisms that over time, I shape up to be much better and produce more enjoyable stories.


"Are you... sure we'll need this, Anon?" Your flaxen-haired companion asks as you scan a 10-pound sledgehammer at a self-checkout lane and tuck it into a duffel bag. Hefting the bag onto your shoulder and leaving the Home Depot, you check the time on your phone.

5:51 PM.

Your brisk strides turn into a hasty powerwalk, and you glance back at Amelia Watson- who is doing her best to keep up with your long legs without breaking into the awkward middle ground between a powerwalk and a jog. However, being the kind soul you are, you slow your roll because you know what it's like to have someone you're trying to follow run away. "I'm positive, Watson," you assure her, doing a bit of mental math in your head. It'll take another eleven or so minutes to get back to Northfield Funeral Services, and sunset would be in another hour and a half after that.

"By the time we get there, the police should have cleared out by then- if they're even still lurking around there. I should also have enough time to use this ol' thing, if my gut's right about things," you continue, lifting your bag slightly, "and we should be out of there by sunset."

Amelia nods, now managing to meet your walking pace. "Out of there by sunset?" Her tone seems like it's very slightly teasing as if she's implying that you're scared of the dark. After being chased by The Omen though, being frightened by the absence of light is honestly the smallest of your fears now. If anything you feel like you've left the situation with a couple fewer fears and just one more dominant phobia. How were you supposed to be scared of spiders or heights or deep spiders or whatever, now that you've encountered some avatar of hell- or what comes very close to it?

"Yeah, I prefer to not be chased by the shadow monster in near pitch black. Besides, I got this painful reminder of why running in the dark's a terrible idea." Tugging the waistband of your pants down slightly, your partner lets out a tiny squeak and waves her hands at you.

"What? AnON WHOA WHOA WH-"

"Dude, it's just my hip." You groan, showing off a dark splotch of purple and yellow on your left hip. Fortunately, there weren't any onlookers nearby, otherwise, you would have just drawn a whole load of unwanted attention.

Cheeks a rosy red, she slowly peeks over before lowering her hands. "O-Oh... Phew, I thought you were gonna do something pervy." Letting out a sigh of relief, she wipes a fake tear from her forehead with the back of her hand, giggling awkwardly before regaining her composure. "Okay yeah, I see your point now, Anon." She exclaimed, cringing slightly.

"Yep, got that from running full force into a table." Tugging your pants back up, you round the corner with your friend and spot the funeral home another two blocks down, with a large graveyard on the side. "I don't see any squad cars so we should be okay," you mention, approaching the door labeled 'Morgue Access' with Amelia. The walls were brick on this side, but towards the front- where bodies were likely displayed for funerals, it was wooden. Assuming that The Omen had a set range of where it could manipulate things, maybe you'd be able to break down the walls in the event it showed up again?

The last vestiges of sunlight peek through the window of the door, letting you know that your time is short as you enter the lobby of the morgue once more. Your eyes set themselves on the chalk outlines of the bodies, and you come to realize something.

You couldn't see it in the dark before, but with proper lighting, you see that tiles on the ground form a circle that just happens to surround each of the body outlines.

"Amelia, I don't think these people were just randomly killed..."

"... Sacrificed?" The detective whispers, crouching by the circle and glancing over as you unzip your duffel bag. "Are you going to do what I think you're gonna do?"

With a nod, you roll your shoulders and hoist the sledgehammer above your head. "URGH!" You let out a shout of exertion, slamming it into the tiled floor- only to discover that you can't pull it out. The sound the floor made when you struck it didn't emit one that hitting a solid surface would make. It was hollow. Wrenching it out, Amelia shuffles forwards slowly to peer into the hole- and promptly retch. Before you can ask, the smell hits you too. Something was rotting, and it had been for a while now.

She shoots you a concerned look, and you don't need her to tell you what to do. Smashing more of the circle inwards, your stomach churns as the sound of falling ceramic makes disgusting plops. With some more effort, you create a sizable hole and tuck your face into the crook of your elbow to try and avoid the nauseating stench of decomposing meat, your partner peering in once more-

"Holy shit, Anon! They're alive!" Amelia spluttered, tossing fist-sized chunks of flooring out of the hole frantically. You take a step closer and your heart catches in your throat.

Within the recess in the ground lies a person- no, the remains of what used to be one. A body devoid of hair and with fair skin, withered eyes sunken deep within the sockets of a gaunt face. The skin-if they still had any, looked horrifically tight on their frame, outlining individual muscles. You've seen pictures of mummies, and this poor man might as well have been one. The only indicator that they still lived was the almost imperceptible rise and fall of their chest. Yet, the fact that they were practically desiccated was not the worst thing about them. Scrawled across almost every available inch of their body was what you thought to be writing, and only confirmed by Amelia.

"Ego sum oves datum lupus de Pluto..." She whispered, a deeply concerned look appearing on her features as she looked over at you. "I am a sheep given to Pluto's wolf. I custodi fata omnes homines ab alio." Her jaw was set firmly as she reached down, gingerly taking the person's hand. "I keep the fate of all men from another... Anon, he's a sacrifice!" Looking back at the previously entombed person, she let out a surprised gasp as their arm separated from their torso- just from her small movements.

"dad... kill... me..."

The both of you stare at the living cadaver, whose mouth cracks from the force of effort to attempt to move. You weren't even sure how they were talking, considering that their tongue might not even be functional anymore. You didn't want to know, either. Their eyes trembled ever so slightly as if they were trying to look at the both of you. "kill... me..." It repeats itself, albeit quieter.

You glance over at Watson, unsure of yourself at that moment. Killing someone for you was something you'd thought of in dark times, but as with many daydreams you come to realize that reality is much more different. Your mouth goes dry as you stare down at the victim of twisted dark magics, fingers clenching around your sledgehammer and relaxing as if trying to find the ideal grip for it.

"Anon, do it or I will," Amelia said coldly, rising and staring at you. "If you don't want what little blood this poor guy's got inside of him on your hands, then hand it over."

You shake your head, shuffling forwards and raising the sledgehammer. You were never terribly religious, but the sight of such a defiled human being helps you piece together a simple prayer to God- Allah, Buddha, whoever was listening and would take mercy on this victim. Closing your eyes, you put them out of their misery, ignoring the godawful sound it made as their head was caved in. Letting it slide out of your hands, you stumble back a few steps and fall on your ass, trying to think about anything other than what you just did.

"Hello? Sergeant Morrish?"

Glancing over at your partner, she's still standing over the remains of the person.

"We have a body at Northfield Funeral Services. Can you come down alone?"


The events that transpired over the next couple of hours were a blur. The Sergeant came down, saw the body, asked questions, and talked with Amelia while you sat off to the side- dissociating and speaking whenever he walked over to you. He picked up the sledgehammer you used with a pair of gloves, handing it back to you.

"We'll do some looking into whoever this... was. Best you kids get a move on though, I won't be able to make a good enough excuse to stop you all from walking away scot-free." He told you.

You ended back up at the office with Watson, sitting at your desk and filing through papers about The Omen with her quietly. The appearances were random but had the common factor that it had always appeared at places where bodies had been interred. Graveyards, morgues, and even once- a hospital.

"So, let's go over what we know about The Omen so far," Amelia began, looking at you from over her own stack of papers, "it's definitely an avatar of death. The writing was in Latin and makes mention of Pluto- and no, not the planet. If it has a wolf, I don't want to see it. Pluto is the Roman God of the Underworld, in case you didn't know. The wolf of Pluto, which I think means a hunter or something." She continued, tapping away quietly at a keyboard.

"A hunter of the God of the Underworld?" You frown slightly, crossing your arms. "Like... the Grim Reaper or something?"

"That," She pondered, pursing her lips in thought, "would make some degree of sense. No, no wait, that makes a lotta sense, actually. 'I keep the fate of all men from another'." The blonde recited aloud, making eye contact with you. "The fate of all men..." A jolt of realization seems to occur, the both of you coming to the same conclusion.

"Someone's-"
"-immortal." She finishes.

The phone rings and the detective snatches it up, answering coolly, "Watson's Detective Agency. Watson speaking, how can I help you?" You hear a few quiet words and she presses a button, turning it towards you.

"We have a positive ID on the victim. It's a Nolan Abernathy." Comes the voice of the Sergeant from the phone, just about crystal clear. A rotary phone with speaker mode though, neat! "It was a real issue trying to figure it out though, it was damn near impossible to get the fingerprints with it crumbling on us. We had to do all of our forensics work up there and without the lab. You two can rest easy now though, we have a pretty solid idea who did it. He's the son of the owner of the building, who also assures us that his son is alive and well abroad. That was four years ago. Overall, he's ringing plenty of bells and we're sending a patrol ca-"

"No, don't."

"What? Watson, you've done your part in this, so let the law-"

"The law's not what he deserves, Sergeant. That's for people, and what he did? That strips him of being recognized as a person. He committed things outside the scope of normal nature and tried to... tried to use his own child to prolong his own life. How old is he right now?"

There's a pregnant pause, before the man answers, "... Eighty-seven."

"Do you think you can arrange for him to be taken somewhere?"

"Amelia Watson, are you asking me to put the life of another person in your hands, to be punished by a force that isn't... our laws?"

"Yes, Sergeant. It's only right. You saw the body. You can't possibly think he deserves a jail cell, especially after the murders." Your partner insists, gesticulating wildly with one hand and facing the window with the phone. "Think about it, all the sightings of The Omen! He could be the root cause of them!"

"If I agree to deliver him somewhere secluded, I will be choosing the drop-off. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Tomorrow, midnight. I'll call you two hours before."

The phone clicks.

Hanging the phone up, Amelia sits down as you look at her with concern in your eyes. "Watson, why are we... y'know, asking for an elderly person? We're not going to kill him, are we?" You ask hesitantly.

Those beautiful ocean blue eyes of hers meet yours, and you feel none of her usual joviality and optimism. Instead, you meet an unforgiving force of nature, a cruel tidal wave that dragged vessels under the surface.

"We won't hurt him, Anon. The Omen will." She clarified, raising a finger.

"But how? Doesn't it show up randomly?" You start, but a small ghost of a smirk appears on her features. "... Are we going to summon it?" You question, but the smile only grows and answers your inquiry.

"I know how to call it, it's just that I've had no reason to." She said softly, rising from her seat and taking her coat from a rack. "It's counterproductive to stand in front of a train if you don't know if it'll stop. I'm going to go gather the reagents necessary."

"I'll help," you start, getting up only to be stopped with a hard look from your partner.

"No, Anon. You're going to stay in the office for tonight, okay?" Amelia tossed a key onto your desk, putting her jacket on. "You can't come with me or else you'll spoil some of the things I need. Just pick up the phone if it rings and note whatever the Sergeant says, alright?"

"A-Alright, Watson..." You relent, sitting back down and looking at the phone, listening to her steps recede and the door close.

As you sit in the dimly light office sifting through the same documents and trying to glean new information or draw new connections, you continuously glance over at the phone... but it never rings. Amelia doesn't return either, which is concerning even as the Sun begins to rise. The flow of time is unreal to you, going through spurts of either taking forever to go a few minutes or having an hour fly right on by. You even clean the office a little bit, fixing your desk and cleaning dust off some of the shelves.

Moving behind Amelia's desk though, you notice a picture frame.

It's of Watson and four silhouette figures. Family, maybe? She seemed happy in it.

Midday soon approaches and you can feel the fatigue slowly setting in, but you don't want to risk falling asleep and missing a phone call. You weren't really that much of a coffee person, but soon enough the cups start to pile up on your desk. You try to think about the dreams you've had in the past few days, but the details are muddled and hazy- something you curse about. You should have taken note of them while you still could've. Running somewhere, and then... fire.

The day is one of contemplation, it seems, for you spend much of your time now thinking about what you're going to do with the old man. What if it all doesn't stop? What if it keeps going, and comes after you and Watson next? Why does she know how to summon it? Why, why why?

Brrrrrrrrrrring!

Bolting out of your seat, you grab the phone. "Watson's Detective Agency. Anon speaking, how can I help you?"

"Abandoned concrete building, corner of Alderwest Street and Lemias Drive. Use the Maps app on your phone, you'll find it real quickly." You hear the Sergeant say, and the phone hangs up as quickly as he started. Pulling out your phone, you check for the address and soon enough, find it. The only real concern is how you're going to message Watson since she never gave you her contact details.

... Yet for some reason, her number and name are on your phone.

Did she unlock it while you were passed out?

[10:09 PM] Anon Anonymous: Watson?
[10:09 PM] Detective Watson: Got the address?
[10:09 PM] Anon Anonymous: Corner of Alderwest Street and Lemias Drive, the closest building would be 3488 Alderwest Street. Looks like it's an industrial part of town, with no houses around.
[10:10 PM] Detective Watson: I'll see you there.

Grabbing the key off your desk and your things, you lock the door behind you and set off to find the place. The app says it'll take you about thirty minutes to get there, and you've no intention of running. The deadline's at midnight, and if you tire yourself out now, you might just die if The Omen decides to pursue you again.


Finally arriving, you cast your eyes up at an unfinished concrete building of sorts. It was the frame for a complex of sorts, with stairs and pillars and all, but a severe lack of... well, anything else really. "Watson?" You call out hesitantly, hoping that there weren't any squatters around. Fortunately for you though, you get a response from a familiar voice.

"Third floor, Anon!"

"Coming!" You shout back, hustling up the steps. The place seemed to have been abandoned for a good while, with a firm buildup of dust coating just about every surface. You follow the sounds of scuffling about to find Amelia in a room, crouched over a large and complex circle drawn in... some sort of red substance. The smell of iron fills your nose as you near her, nose wrinkling instinctively. "Is that..."

"Ketchup? Sure is, just don't think too much into it." Your partner offers helpfully, nudging a bag with her foot and causing a few black candles to roll out. "Can you stick those around the circle at regular intervals for me? Don't smell your hands afterward or wipe them on you later, the dry-cleaning ladies will love you for that."

Shutting your mouth, you do as she asks, spacing the candles out evenly, watching as she retrieves a wrinkled piece of yellow parchment from within her coat as well as a knife. "Keep those candles lit, they're a line of defense in case our otherworldly friend gets antsy with us. Were you more versed in what was probably Latin, you could probably make out what she was saying, but you did catch the odd word here and there. 'Death' was one you knew kinda well, you thought, and she seemed to be murmuring a lot of that as she lit the candles one by one.

"Are you summ-" You start, only to be silenced yet again by a hard glare from her as she chants. Looks like she really was doing this now. You take a few steps back and keep your hands by your side as your partner finishes lighting the candles, handing you her lighter, and continuing her chanting. What she seemed to be reciting was less of a spell of sorts in your opinion, but a song with how her voice rose and fell. It was beautifully melodic and though you couldn't understand it, the lyrics were haunting and melancholic with her intonation.

The air progressively grew colder and colder as she sang, the small flames atop the cylinders of black wax wavering slightly and drawing nervous looks from you constantly. It took quite a long time too and drew a bit of appreciation for just how long Amelia could sing. Though her voice rasped occasionally, she never faltered or paused once. Walking circles around the one she had drawn and taking precise steps, she ended up standing by your side now. Watson said one final phrase and cut her hand with her knife, smearing it on the paper before throwing it into the middle of the circle.

"If I did it right, it should call it from where it lurks and it'll come if it's willin-" Amelia was instantly interrupted as a vacuum devoid of light ripped into existence inside the circle of candles, snuffing them all out instantly and plunging your vision straight into muted blacks and greys. "TOO WILLING, TOO WILLING! SCATTER, ANON!" The blonde shrieked, spinning around and bolting.

"I THOUGHT THE FUCKING CANDLES WERE SUPPOSED TO HELP!" You shouted, the familiar feeling of absolute dread washing down your spine once more as you followed her. The coolness of the night had absolutely nothing on the chill emanating from the thing behind you, the lights of the city hub seeming like a distant reality now. You slip rounding a corner, shoe unable to gain traction on the dusty floor. Hysteria bubbles up from within you as the stomping approaches from your six, making your way to the stairs and practically falling down them.

The way the building was laid out, the stairways weren't all connected. The first floor had stairs on the right, and you'd have to go all the way across to the left side to ascend to the next, then on the second, you had to go to the right and so forth.

"ANON! THIS WAY!" Amelia shouted, before the ceiling in front of her collapsed, a circular slab slamming into the floor with a thunderous BOOM.

Falling backward and looking up, both of you saw a circle had been cut out from the floor above, and The Omen fell to the ground. Momentarily, you caught sight of a humanoid shape as it rose to its full height, only to be enveloped by the black mists once more. Amelia skittered backward on her hands, getting to her feet and knocking right past you as you stared at The Omen- transfixed by the singular malefic rose-colored eye that stared at you with such hatred.

You turn and follow Amelia, but she's already a good forty feet down the hallway. The corridor's swallowed by darkness, but there's one light source and that's your partner, but she's a ways ahead. Praying to the gods that The Omen isn't manipulating the environment again, you sprint after her, a cold sweat building up on your phone. Your pace is quick, but also careful because with how close the entity seems to be behind you, you're sure that slipping now would be your end.

A piece of paper kicked up in Watson's wake reads '-ATELY THE CASES OF MISSIN-' as it flutters past you.

Your heart clenches.

What?

As you keep running, you see Amelia, halfway out the window. A fog clouds your thoughts. You've been here before. She's going to say something. An intense sense of déjà vu hits you and your body hits a running slide, just as Amelia shouts:

"ANON! DUCK!"

Time practically slows to a stop as your brain processes everything in ultra-slow motion for a moment, allowing you to see a black wave go straight through the air where your torso occupied just minutes prior. Popping back up to your feet, you see Amelia hop out and disappear from view.

"... come... "

But you have no intentions of listening to this fucking thing. You throw yourself out of the window- and realize you just went headfirst out of the second floor. Amelia rolls and pops up to her feet, turning to stare at you with absolute disbelief. You have no time to properly scream- just enough for a very loud "AUEAAAAAAAAAAUGGHHHHHHHHH!" As you twist your body midair and slam into her, eliciting a loud shout of pain as she breaks your fall and the both of you tumble to the ground.

Something cracks, and you taste blood in your mouth.

Dazed and winded from the impact, the both of you look back at the window and watch as a dark figure lands but ten feet away, shadows billowing outwards from it. Your bones ache and you can tell Watson isn't doing much better, thanks to you. Guilt clenches your heart as it stomps towards the two of you, the sound of the metal weapon it wielded being dragged through the sand.

Then, the sound of an electric car. Quiet, pulling up with a screech just behind you.

"GIT YER HANDS OFFA ME-!" You hear, turning to see a man who can't possibly be out of his fifties be shoved out of the side, the vehicle speeding off. Was that the owner of the funeral parlor? Well? It didn't matter now. You closed your eyes as the stomps came within five feet, the feeling of primordial dread overwhelming you until...

"N-NO! GET AWAY! I-I MADE A DAMN DEAL! I DON'T G-GET TO DIE! HELP! SOMEBODY H-HELP ME!"

What?

You look over, and The Omen quite literally stands next to you, a few things registering. You aren't fearful of it anymore. It's holding the man up, and the wreath of blackness is slowly peeling away, revealing a woman with pink hair wearing a black dress of sorts. "You made no deal with me! You dared use the most treacherous of magics and the sacrifice of the unwilling- and your own kin to prolong your own life, you petulant mortal, now you reap your rewards." The woman's voice is on the deeper side, but authoritative and stern. Her facial features were twisted with anger as she slashed the man in half.

Preparing for the spray of blood that never comes, you watch as the man crumbles into a pile of foul-smelling black ichor as opposed to two halves filled with gore.

The scythe-wielding woman looks down at the two of you, frowning and flicking her weapon clean of any slime. "You two... freed me?"

"Freed you from what?" You ask nervously, slowly getting off of Watson and pulling her to her feet, wincing from the pain of your earlier jump.

"My mind was clouded earlier, I was sent up to be his courier," The Omen said, nodding her head at the ashes that once were a very alive and screaming person, "When I arrived though, something came over me." A crestfallen look flits across her noble, defined features. "I-I... could not control myself when I struck down those five not too long ago. Something that was not the one who I answer to commanded me, and I could not refuse it." Letting out a soft sigh, she turned to face the full moon in the night sky. "It has been many ages since someone knew how to invoke such dark things, yet I fear this will not be the last in this century... What are your names?"

"M'name's Amelia Watson." Your partner pipes up, an arm around your shoulder and her free hand pressed to her ribs.
"Anon Anonymous." You add in, freezing up slightly as The Omen turned to look at you again. Giving the both of you a hard once-over, as if sizing you up, she nods her head slowly.

"It is only right for you two to learn mine then. I am called many things the Grim Reaper being one, but one alias that I prefer to go by in the last two decades is... Calliope Mori," The woman said, resting her scythe on her shoulders and outstretching a hand towards the both of you, "it is a pleasure to make both of your acquaintances."

Watson shakes her hand and you follow suit, noting how delicate her fingers were and how soft the hand was despite her profession of well... reaping. Something hard finds its way into your palm though and when she pulls away, you see a small skull trinket. You give her an inquisitive look and she steps back.

"A memento mori," Calliope said softly, slowly fading into wisps of shadows, "you need but call, and I shall aid the best I can- a just reward for saving my mind, no...?"

And then, it was just you and Watson, standing in front of an abandoned building.

"What a... night..." She mumbled into your chest, slumping and leaning her whole body against you.

"Watson...? W-Watson!"

She was out like a rock.

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Pub: 11 Oct 2021 13:54 UTC
Views: 646