June 29th, 2007

"Got another one for you, Doc." The cheery call made Doctor West, Brockton Bay's senior forensic pathologist, look up from the clipboard he was studying and peer over his glasses at the large man who had just pushed a gurney with a body bag on it through the double doors at the end of the lab. Putting the clipboard down, with the pen he'd been using to fill out a form on top of it, he walked over to meet Yusef next to one of the examination tables. "Deceased was shot in the commission of a robbery at the gas station on Atlantic and Bayshore this morning. Caught a bullet right between the eyes, dropped him in his tracks on the spot."

Both of them heaved the body bag off the gurney onto the table, then Yusef unzipped the top part. Doctor West leaned in to examine the corpse with professional interest, long practice meaning that the waxy appearance of dead flesh and the faint smell of decomposition that was already starting was ignored. The face of the dead man was locked in an expression he'd have put down as surprise more than anything else. Exactly centered between the eyes was a neat hole he could tell immediately was from a 9mm round.

"Good shot," he commented absently, pulling on a set of disposable gloves, then experimentally poking the wound. "Clean through and through," he added, feeling the back of the head, which had a considerably larger piece missing. "Death was probably instantaneous, I agree. Who shot him?" He was only curious as it didn't make much difference to his job, but the accuracy of the shot was intriguing.

Yusef chuckled. "You're not going to believe this," he said. West glanced sidelong at him. "It was a twelve year old kid. This guy and his friend robbed the gas station and fired off a few rounds. Hit an off-duty cop, killed him, and got the girl's mother too. The girl got the cop's piece, got the drop on the idiots, and apparently when this one tried to use his shotgun on her, she plugged him without a second thought." He shook his head in respect. "Fucking amazing job. Got the other one on the floor with the threat of killing him too, shot half his ear off to make a point, had the clerk disarm him, then talked him through patching her mom up enough to keep her going until the ambulance turned up. Saved her life, and probably her own and the clerk's as well."

"Interesting," West commented, straightening up and looking at Yusef. "Who was the officer who was killed?"

"Ray Ellison." The other man's face fell for a moment. West bowed his head a little.

"Damn. I liked him."

"Yeah, he was a good man," Yusef agreed quietly. "At least the girl got his murderer, so there's that."

"True." West shook his head. "That's not a good thing for such a young woman to go through though."

"No, it's pretty horrible," his colleague said. "Hope they go easy on her. From what I heard it was pure self defense."

"I expect it will be handled properly, if only out of respect for Ray," West remarked, turning back to study the body. "Who's got the case?"

"Thorpe and Vanover, I think."

"Ah. Yes, the young woman is in good hands, then. All right, if you'd give me a hand with getting our friend here out of the bag, I can begin immediately. Unusually there's a hole in my schedule at the moment."

"Gangs not killing as many people as usual?"

West gave the other man a severe look over his glasses. "Not entirely amusing," he said sternly, making Yusef smirk. "Although in this case, sadly, fairly accurate. I suspect it won't last, it never does."

Between them they soon had the corpse laid out on the examination table and the body bag and gurney moved away. Yusef handed Doctor West the documentation, which he flipped through, signed, and returned the relevant parts of. "I'll leave you to it, Doc," the other man said with a wave as he headed towards the exit. "See you soon."

"Most likely," West muttered, flicking a wave over his shoulder without looking away from the dead man in front of him. "Now, let's see what else there is about you that's interesting, my friend," he went on, more to himself than the corpse, as they generally weren't good conversationalists. "Aside from having the distinction of being gunned down by a prepubescent girl, of course. Which I do rather feel was something of a shock..."

Smiling grimly at his own joke, he got to work, pulling the microphone for the recording system down into place and pressing the on button. Shortly he was making audible notes while carefully disassembling the body with great expertise.

Several hours later Doctor West finished typing, saved the document, and shut his computer down. Looking over the large pathology lab, now quiet until the night shift came in as everyone else on his shift had left, he pondered life in Brockton Bay and how many people he'd seen go through here. Including several he'd counted as friends, like Ray Ellison whose remains were currently in cold storage having turned up too late for him to work on today. He'd made sure he was the one who would do that job in the morning, as he owed it to the man to do right by him.

He glanced at one table in the middle, the one he never used any more, and closed his eyes in remembered pain for a second. Opening that bag had nearly killed him.

Doctor West didn't like the Merchants. Or narcotic use.

Shaking his head, he put the stack of paperwork he'd finished into the out tray, stood up, picked up his coat, and left, intending to stop off at a small diner he liked for a late meal before heading home. It had been another long day.

"What the hell..." West blinked at the ceiling, wondering what had awoken him, then heard an explosion in the distance. It echoed around the city, distant but clear, and had obviously been fairly substantial. Worried and curious, he fumbled for his glasses on the table beside the bed, while next to him his wife Jacqui mumbled something and rolled over. Sliding out of bed, careful not to jostle her, he went over to one of the bedroom windows and unlatched it, then swung it open and leaned out a little. The sound of gunfire was now audible, and a moment later another explosion rumbled in the distance. He tried to work out how far away it was and where, assuming it was yet another cape fight or something of that nature.

He could make out a number of automatic weapons firing, probably AK-47 variants by the sound of it, as they were very distinctive and it was an unfortunate effect of living in a city like Brockton Bay that most people could identify a surprisingly large number of firearms by ear. A much louder and deeper one started up, producing long bursts as a continuous roar, and he winced. It sounded like something along the lines of a fifty caliber machine gun or something of that size, which was terrifying if true.

The sounds of distant intense battle rose and fell for nearly ten more minutes, with sirens joining in fairly shortly after he opened the window. Flashes of light lit the horizon, along with deep booms from what were obviously grenades, and at least two much bigger ones he couldn't place. All of this was somewhere in the center of the city, three or so miles from his house, the still night air making the sounds easily audible even if faint. Eventually there were a few closely spaced grenade detonations and the shooting began dying down, flared up briefly, then sputtered to a halt. All he could hear then were dozens of sirens converging on the area from all over the city, the distinctive notes of the police, the fire department, and the PRT all evident.

Sighing, he listened for a little longer, then pulled the window closed and made sure it was locked. Shaking his head he got back into bed and made himself comfortable, taking his glasses off and folding them then putting them on the table.

"wha' ws tha'?" his wife mumbled sleepily. He put his arm over her and held her close.

"The sound of a lot of future clients, I'm afraid, dear," he replied very quietly. A few minutes later he was asleep, dreading what he was going to find on his tables in the morning, since it was obvious he was going to be called in even on a Saturday.

June 30th, 2007

"How many more are coming, Yusef?" West asked, signing the paperwork after quickly inspecting the half dozen body bags laid out in the mortuary.

"At least a dozen, Doc." The other man shook his head, scowling. "Fucking Merchants went insane last night. At least eight or nine cops are dead from what I've heard, and god knows how many of the fuckers themselves. This is just the first batch."

West pondered the bags as he handed back the relevant parts of the documentation. "Merchants?" he echoed. "I see. I wonder why?"

Yusef shrugged. "Fucked if I know. They're Merchants. Who knows why they do anything? Probably so high they couldn't even see the ground, most of them." He looked at the bags too, his face grim. "Only good thing is that they're basically extinct now. Skidmark's dead..."

West snapped his head around and fixed the man with a hard look. "Dead? You're certain?"

"Yeah. Seen him myself. Dead as mutton with a hole right here," he replied, tapping himself between the eyes, which made West's eyes widen fractionally, then narrow a little. "SWAT must have got him. Praise Allah for that. And Squealer's in custody, pretty banged up after they blew up her tank, plus they got Mush yesterday morning too. And from what I heard cleaned out pretty much their entire stock of drugs and cash."

"Did they now?" West was thoughtfully looking at Yusef, who spread his hands. "Fascinating."

"Yeah. PRT and the Protectorate are all over the cop station, which is blown to hell, and they've got Skidmark's body so I doubt you'll see it. Armsmaster was stomping around pointing his beard at everyone and looking like someone ate his puppy too. The PRT really dropped the ball on this one. You should have heard the Commissioner complaining about it right in front of them, it was… impressive." He looked mildly amused as West snorted. "Man is not happy. The cops are pretty jumpy too, and are watching the PRT like they're wondering if they're going to need to defend themselves or something."

"The relationship between the authorities in this city is unfortunate," West noted quietly.

"It's completely broken, Doc. Mostly Calvert's fault, of course, but at least that idiot's gone. No idea if the new one can fix it, but she's pretty much got to be an improvement over him."

"It's difficult to see how she could be less effective, I have to admit," West noted with a wry smile. Yusef nodded, looking momentarily annoyed.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I lost a cousin because that asshole was grandstanding a couple of years ago..." He sighed as West watched him understandingly. "Brockton Bay. It's a hell of a place."

"I can't argue with that, my friend," West nodded.

"Better get back to it, then," the other man said, putting the papers in his hand into a folder that was under his arm and turning around. He raised a hand in a wave. "See you soon, Doc."

"Later, Yusef," Doctor West called as he moved to unzip the first body bag, while waving over a couple of assistants who had been wiping down the other tables. Kneeling down next to the bag he examined the face of the body inside it. Very obviously a drug addict, he noted to himself, seeing signs he recognized all too well. Probably about twenty two, although he could have passed for an unwell forty, very underweight, with bad teeth.

And with a nice neat hole exactly centered between his eyes…

West sucked air thoughtfully through his teeth, then stood up again, watching while his people moved the bodies to the tables, avoiding one particular one as they all knew the history involved.

He was thinking hard, even as he got to work.

July 2nd, 2007

Doctor West pushed the microphone away having clicked it off, then stood studying the body in front of him for a few seconds before he turned and walked off, removing his gloves carefully as he moved. Dropping them into a biohazard receptacle as he passed it, he sat at his desk and wiggled the mouse a little, then examined the documents on screen when it woke up.

"Fascinating," he murmured to himself, leaning closer and reading his own notes with interest.

After a while, he glanced over at the far wall, which consisted of a large number of stainless steel refrigerated drawers, each large enough to contain a body, which most of them did. One in particular drew his attention. Scanning the room he saw that his staff were all out at the moment, two of them for lunch, one retrieving some equipment, and the other pair doing a physical paperwork search in the archives. He got up and headed over to the drawer, unlatching it and pulling it open, then bending down to unzip the bag inside it.

He looked down at the face of a robbery suspect who had bitten off far more than he could chew, before turning to look in the direction of the table he'd been working at. Then he pulled a tape measure out of his pocket and made a few measurements, before closing the bag and the drawer again, going over to the table, and repeating those measurements.

"Absolutely fascinating," he said under his breath, stepping back and regarding the corpse with interest. Absently putting the tape measure away he returned to his desk and sat down once more. Following some minutes of thought, he leaned forward, pulled the keyboard closer to himself, and made a few edits to several files, before saving them.

Then he went for lunch, still thinking carefully, giving one table a glance as he left and sighing quietly.

July 3rd, 2007

"Lieutenant Hackett, what an unexpected pleasure," Doctor West said with a small smile as he turned to inspect the man who'd just come into his lab. He noticed that the timing was remarkably convenient, all the other people who worked there currently out for lunch. He himself often ate at his desk, so could usually be found here even during the lunch break. "My condolences on the loss of so many of your colleagues."

"Thanks, Doctor," the SWAT officer said heavily, looking tired. "It was pretty horrible."

"I can imagine. I heard it at home, and of course I've seen the end result come through here over the last few days." He motioned at the four tables that still had bodies on them, all currently covered. "Just these and another six in the storage area to do now, though. It's been rather busy as you can imagine."

"Yeah. I can," Hackett nodded, looking around. "PRT been through yet?"

"We did have the pleasure of a number of PRT personnel asking some fairly detailed questions," West smiled. "And even were graced by the presence of Armsmaster himself, who was quite interested in some of the bodies. He seemed to be somewhat annoyed."

"He usually is in my experience," Hackett smirked. "Man's too tense. Probably needs to get laid."

West suppressed a chuckle, although the officer seemed to notice. "I couldn't say. It's hardly my area of expertise."

"I dunno, Doc, you deal with stiffs all the time," Hackett said with a grin. West shook his head, amused.

"One way to put it, certainly, although possibly not the most politic. So, what can I do for you? I imagine you're as busy as I am."

Hackett looked around again, glancing behind himself at the door, then motioned to West's desk on the other side of the room. Both of them walked over, West sitting down in his chair and Hackett leaning on the wall next to the desk. "Got a little problem you could help with," Hackett began.

West, who was leaning back in his chair facing the man, his hands folded on his leg, watched with neutral interest.

"A problem?" he repeated calmly.

"Yeah." Hackett seemed to be trying to work out how to explain himself.

"Would it have to do with some unnervingly precise shooting that stretches the bounds of probability, perhaps?" West asked, not looking away.

There was a pause, then Hackett nodded slightly.

"I see." West regarded him closely. "Oddly enough Armsmaster was interested in the same thing. I found it intriguing too."

"Did you?"

"Oh, yes." West nodded. "The placement of the shots was extraordinary. Not only was it precisely in the correct place to sever the medulla and cause nearly instantaneous death, each shot was within one millimeter of any of the others. Truly incredible shooting. I wouldn't have thought it was possible, but then it's not my field of expertise. My compliments on the training your SWAT people undergo."

Hackett looked a little uncomfortable, making West almost smile.

"The remarkable thing is, though, that I have recently seen a case that mirrors that particular shot placement to a level that is… impressive."

Now Hackett looked worried, although he was hiding it well.

"However, I can't actually show you the body, unfortunately, as I expect you'd have found it interesting. The deceased had no next of kin and as we have had an unprecedented case load over the last few days, I arranged to have an expedited cremation carried out on the body, and several others that were in a similar position. A pity in a sense, it was almost art in a somewhat morbid fashion, but needs must." He shrugged a little.

Hackett at this point was looking both relieved and impressed. And slightly amused.

"I've updated the records with all the relevant details," he went on, tapping his mouse to make the monitor stop displaying the screensaver, then clicking a few times. "As you can see. Incidentally, please pass on my condolences for the loss of Ray Ellison, he was a decent man and didn't deserve that fate. I'm glad he managed to take down his attacker even if it cost him his life."

There was a pause of a few seconds as the SWAT officer read the screen, then he nodded. West closed the document again.

"Thanks, Herbert."

"It was my pleasure, Alex," West replied quietly. "Did I tell you about my niece Jennifer?"

The other man shook his head. West looked over at that table. "Nearly a year ago. Worst shock I ever had in my life when I opened that bag and..." He stopped, exhaling almost silently. Hackett said nothing, simply waiting silently. "It was very hard. My sister has still not recovered. You'll understand when I say I do not like the Merchants, and find it difficult to mourn the loss of so many lives even though it's a tragedy."

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

They shared a glance for a second. Then West stood up, as both heard someone coming down the corridor outside the forensics room. "A great pity Ray didn't make it," West noted as he accompanied the other man to the exit. "I'd have liked to buy the person who did the city a favor a case of beer or something of that nature. But such is life."

"True enough," Hackett nodded, before holding out his hand. West shook it. "See you around. And thanks again."

He turned and pushed the door open, holding it for one of the assistants who was pulling a trolley covered in medical supplies. She smiled at him as she passed. West watched the door close, then went back to his desk and finished his coffee, before getting back to work.