Chapter Three

(Jack's POV)

Jack always got some sort of sick joy from flirting with assholes, and Aster Bunnymund was most definitely an asshole. At least, at the moment he was. Jack had to keep in mind that Aster had a very obvious, very nasty hangover. Speaking of, he could hear the man behind him, grumbling about the cold. Perfect FBI material.

Jack finally caught sight of the other "Guardians", which wasn't hard given the fact one was practically seven feet tall and another was covered in bright colors. Said bright-color lady, Toothiana, (he really wasn't one to make fun of names, given his added to appearance.) apparently saw him as well and started making her way toward him, pulling the other two with her.

"So? What'd you find?" She asked, her voice a little too chipper. He heard Aster finally catch up.

"Uh, the remains are female. I'm pretty sure the killer is human, definitely not an animal. It's pretty obvious, actually. There were no actual wounds caused by teeth, just a lot of stab-wounds from some sort of serrated knife. If the other bodies are like this one, the local coroner ought to be fired. I don't even know how he was hired if he was capable of this kind-" Aster piped up, interrupting him. Jack turned around.

"Wait, why didn't you tell me about the stab wounds? That's kind of important information."

"Well, you seemed pretty busy being an ass, and it looked like you were trying really hard to come up with your questions, so I didn't want to interrupt your concentration. But, know you know! All's well that ends well." He turned back around, searching for the sheriff, but not before catching Toothiana smirking at Aster and mouthing 'burn'.

When Jack failed to find any sign of the man, he sighed and faced the others again.

"He's probably down with the body to make sure his guys don't fuck something up. I should-" once again, Jack was cut off, this time by a loud Russian accent. [I'm not writing out the accent, sorry]

"Sheriff Pfiefer is a good cop. It will be fine. We need to head down to the station anyway. The car is this way, Jack, you can take shotgun." Jack nearly failed to avoid giggling at the upset and, frankly, offended look Sanderson, the much, much shorter man gave Nicholas, the much, much larger man that made the offer.

The five piled into the car, Jack having taken up the offer of shotgun, enjoying the some-what playful glares he was receiving from Sanderson in the rearview mirror. He wanted very badly to point his tongue out at the mans reflection, but given the fact Aster already saw him as an incompetent child, he figured that was probably not the best idea. Not to mention the fact he had no idea how serious these people were. It could result in him having to find a new job. He did not waste his teenage years in Medical School just to be chased out of the only fucking career he actually studied for. At least he knew some street magic. Only problem was his sensitivity to sunlight. Unless he went somewhere rainy. . . okay. He really needed to stop overthinking. It always leads to worrying about stupid things that wont happen. Luckily, Nicholas' voice pulled him out of La-La Land.

"Well, while we're all in one place, names! None of us actually go by our "Official" names, such as "Agent 'Last name here'", unless, of course, it's official business. Anyway, I'm North. The cranky Australian is Bunny,-"

"I'm not cranky."

"Whatever you say. The one who looks like the personification of art is Tooth, and the small man who keeps glaring daggers at the both of us is Sandy. He's mute, which means-"

"Yeah, I know what it means. Medical School. Doctor."

" Ah, right. Anyway, is there a nickname you would prefer?" Suddenly all eyes were on Jack. Talk like an actual normal person, talk like an actual normal person.

"Uh, just-just Jack. Jack is fine, I don't really, um, care I guess." Nailed it. He could practically hear Bunny thinking of something snarky.

"I think 'Frostbite' would suit him more." He snickered from the back. Suddenly Jack figured he could get by being a street magician.

"Wow, how unbelievably original. I have never, not even in High School, heard that one. You, sir, are a comic genius. I'd say we should go out for celebratory drinks, but A, that would be illegal for me, and B, I'm pretty sure you had enough yesterday to hold you off for a good two weeks." The engine was the only sound in the car. Jack casually gazed out the window, masterfully hiding the overwhelming sense of I fucked up. Shit.

He was in the middle of calculating which angle he would have to be at in order to jump out the car with minimal injury when he got a pretty good idea of how loud a gun is in closed quarters. By the time the ringing in his ears dies down, North was trying to contain his deafening laughter, and Tooth's now-audible snickers attracted Bunny's glare, causing her to laugh more.

Jack stopped thinking about being a street magician.

{line break}

Tooth seemed to get a little too excited to see a computer. She actually squealed. Squealed. He himself, of course, got a little too excited when they told him the morgue was in the same building. Jack asked to see the bodies that were still there, and, just to spite the man, dragged Bunny with him.

"Why do you keep making me go with you?" He asked, although he obviously already knew the answer. Jack answered anyway.

"Because you're an ass and I like annoying asses." He suddenly realized that had two meanings, and both were true.

"Wait," Bunny must have realized as well. "Do you mean you enjoy the act of making asses annoyed, or are you attracted to asses that are annoying?" Wow, he can actually construct sentences. He's a keeper.

"Yes." Might as well keep the flirting going. No point in stopping, really.

"Uh, yes to the first one, or the second?" Bunny sounded uncomfortable. Good. Jack didn't answer.

He really shouldn't have been surprised when the morgue was practically in the basement. Quite a few people seem to think along the lines of "I believe it's creepy, therefore, it belongs in the basement." An obnoxiously common mindset, really, and tended to be followed with "Medical Examiners are creepy, therefore, also belong in the basement." Jack was used to comments on how he was on the road to becoming a psychopath and start murdering people. He learned early on to not explain to them that he couldn't really become a psychopath. Sociopath, maybe. Maybe.

The body was already set up, as was the second most recent. They were laid on two tables, side by side. Who ever set it up did a horrible job of it, really. The parts that had been separated from the bodies were just piled up on the chests. Now Jack would have to organize them to actually resemble a human being. Fun. He ignored Bunny's sound of disgust as he grabbed his white coat that the officers had oh-so-thoughtfully thrown onto an empty table. Bunny snickered as he put it on.

"You look like a kid that stole his dads clothes for Halloween. Really, a doctor's coat? You're gonna get blood all over that. Good luck trying to wash that out." He was really trying to insult him. How cute. He pulled some gloves on, walking between the two occupied tables.

"Well, once again, I am a doctor. The coat is kind of something that comes with being a physician. And I worked at a body farm when I was 19, I know how to get blood out of white clothing." He started to organize the pieces of the older body. It didn't take too long. As he moved to the most recent, Bunny finally found something to say.

"Wait wait wait. . . what the fuck is a body farm?" Here we go. He never should have mentioned that. People always freak out and tend to assume it's some sort of satanic deal.

"Okay, a body farm is basically where people in the forensic pathology field can study how bodies decompose in different situations." Woah, wait, he just saw something weird-

"Wait," NO STOP I SAW SOMETHING- "so, it's just a field filled with dead bodies? Where did you even get the bodies?" TELL HIM TO STOP TALKING.

"Yes, it's a field filled with Cadavers, who are people who donate their body to science and study. Questions can wait, I just noticed something weird, hold up. . . I think I know how they died, but. . ." He checked again. This wasn't good.

"But. . ." Bunny tried to get him to continue.

"Well, they both have hand-shaped bruises around their necks-"

"Asphyxiation?"

"Most likely but. . . you're not gonna want to hear this. They were caused by two different hands." Bunny stared at him for a bit longer than he found comfortable. His brain then decided that it must have meant he thought he was crazy and that now was a perfect time for a panic attack. "I-I know you're probably thinking I have no idea what I'm doing, but-just-just come here. Look." For a second he was worried the man was gonna call the others with a note of 'this isn't gonna work' without even looking at the evidence, but he stepped towards the tables. Jack was starting to regret never going to that therapist when he was 15 and it was recommended.

"I think I see it. . ." Bunny muttered, mostly to himself. Jack was suddenly very glad that the aussie noticed obvious things about as well as a child. That is to say, not very well.

"Uh-yeah, see? This one," Jack said, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as bad as he thought it was and pointing to the most recent victim. "this is bigger. Obviously caused by a man."

"So, you mean the other one is-"

"A woman." Bunny's stare only made just about everything worse. "I-I mean, maybe, it could be anyone it's just-just. . . it was definitely two different people." He resigned himself to rearranging the autopsy tools, praying to every god out there that Bunny was too hungover to notice the brimming panic attack. The man pulled out his phone, and, for probably the first time in his life, he got his wish.

"Hey, North. . . Yeah he said it was two people, tell the sheriff we need to get the other bodies from the funeral home. . . Of course to check to see if it's a copycat! . . . alright, I'll be up there in a minute. Tell Tooth to start searching for anything that could-just-just tell her to search for anything. . . okay, see you soon." The phone disappeared back into his pocket before he started for the door. "Hey," he stopped with his fingers around the handle. "Good job. Anything else will help. Just meet us upstairs when you find something." With that, he made his way back to the others, leaving nothing to stop Jack's panic attack. It wasn't as bad as they used to be after. . . shit went down, but it still wasn't fun. He pulled the gloves off and tossed them in the trash, sitting in one of the few chairs scattered around the room. He tried to focus on the 'good job', but it still took at least 15 minutes to calm himself down. When he was finally able to breathe normally, he pulled on a new pair of gloves and actually started to do what he had been training to do for a good five years. For the first time, he was getting paid to cut open dead bodies.