Chapter Text
Case Report #2313
January 22nd, 2024
Detective On Case: Pandora Hemlock
Remains of a John Doe found on 324 Millard Court. Known to be an abandoned building, teenagers often trespass. John Doe thought to be between ages 23-32. He has yet to be identified. Face ripped off and severe lacerations found on the body. Missing face causing lack of recognition. No evidence of struggle outside the body as well as no evidence of a weapon. No further evidence to suggest foul play.
Case closed under accidental death through animals.
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Pandora Hemlock would describe herself as a perfectly normal human being, thank you very much. She normally got up in the morning, normally brushed her teeth, normally showered, all while normally mentally preparing herself for the work day. She was satisfied with her life, as a normal 26 year old would be. She had a normal job as a detective, ran her own normal crew, and had very normal coworkers, albeit obnoxious ones.
This, my friends, brings us to the present. As of today, February 5th, 2024, Pandora struggles to get out of the house, her cats trying—and inevitably failing—to run out the door before she can close it all the way. As her back hits the door, Pandora sighs and closes her eyes.
Pandora Hemlock works for the Novis Police Department as lead detective. Novis is a queer little city, quite unlike Pandora herself. It had everything a normal city had to offer, minus the distinct lack of any churches, historical sites, or graveyards around. This didn’t bother Pandora much. She wasn’t religious and, as far as she knew, Novis was a relatively new establishment, as new as full-fledged city establishments can get. Besides, Pandora prided herself on being a very busy woman with no time for busy work as she was already as busy as she could be without stress.
When she arrives at work, things are bustling as normal, which fills Pandora with a sense of security. She sits down in her office and is about to open a new case file on her desk from the day prior when her supervisor, Damien Scott, busts in.
“I need you to reopen the John Doe case you had last week.”
Whatever it was Pandora was expecting, it is certainly not this. She peers at him through her circular, wide rimmed glasses. “Why?”
“Because new evidence and the autopsy report Michaels put through came back. Turns out, mauling wasn’t even the cause of death. It couldn’t have been a wild animal with the new cause of death the coroners found.”
“Well what, pray tell, is the cause of death? We found lacerations all over the body! His face was missing! How in the WORLD could it have been something different if he died through a struggle?”
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“He didn’t die struggling.”
“Please enlighten me.”
“He died through internal burns, Hemlock.”
Pandora shook her head, “Then he inhaled chemicals. It must have been a suicide and some animal got to him.”
Scott sighs. “Pandora. There were no traces of chemicals found in his system, no nothing. Everything indicated a healthy, thriving man. So explain to me why he suddenly died from severe internal burns when nothing that could have burned him was found in his system. Reopen the case and figure out who he is and what-- or more likely, who-- killed him.” Pandora rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, sir.”
***
So, there she was, at the scene of the crime of a case that was closed 2 weeks prior. She really doesn’t know what she is doing there, what she is looking for, or why she is even reinvestigating the case in the first place. Well, she does know that. What she doesn’t know is why the sudden change, so far from the original prognosis. Pandora is a great detective when she is enveloped in a case. After the case closes, though, she puts it behind her and doesn’t come back to it. This case reopening goes against her very being as a detective. Whatever. No use complaining now. She’s here, reinvestigating a case she closed, because a man-- who happens to be her boss, but that’s not important-- told her to.
324 Millard Court is, oddly enough, located in a well-developed community. It reminds Pandora of those shows where the haunted house was a decrepit, old place in the middle of a classic suburban neighborhood. It feels that way too, like the weather shifts when she walks onto the property. Even though it is along the edges of spring, bordering summer, there is a sharp chill when she steps into the house. She pays it no mind, though. She has a job to do, and she wants it done.
Pandora makes her way through the house, inspecting every corner carefully in order to fully maximize to Scott that there is nothing, NOTHING, to keep investigating. Of course, life has its way of turning her thoughts into the exact opposite of what happens. When Pandora goes to check the garden, though not much of a garden anymore as it was overgrown with vines, branches, and weeds, something catches her eye. A signet ring is buried under some dirt, small and dainty. She picks it up and examines it. It has a black gemstone on the right side and a snake curling around a hollowed out diamond on the other. If she squeezed the two sides together, they’d touch. The two sides were connected by a golden band. Upon closer inspection, she sees the initials “FH” are engraved underneath the gold surrounding the back stone. Pandora carefully slips the ring onto her finger, making a mental note to put it somewhere for inspection regarding the case later.
Pandora is about to leave when something else caught her attention. Along the stark white body outline from the week prior, there is a remarkable lack of blood. Surely there would be more blood around and under the figure, even if he died through internal burns. The lacerations and missing face would have made sure of that. Upon further thought, Pandora thinks it would be worth her time to investigate the body’s surroundings further. With this, she finds a small wooden cross dangling from the leg of an overturned chair. The cross looked as if it had been gripped hard, a handprint from sweaty palms embalmed on the surface. Pandora supposed this belonged to her John Doe, and takes it with her as well. She flips it around and gasps. Carved into the surface of the back of the cross are the stark words of “this never did anything.”
Suddenly, Pandora wants to be anywhere but here. The words sent a chill down her spine and she was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that someone, or SOMETHING, was watching her. She gathers her things and books it to her car, parked at the end of the driveway. Sparing one last glance, she looks towards the tree line behind the house. She thinks she can make out the rough figure of something, but speeds off before she can look again.
***
By that night, Pandora is exhausted. She had gone back to the station and dropped off the information she found. She dropped off everything except the signet ring, which still sits on her finger. She felt compelled to keep it on for at least a little while longer. She only takes it off when she gets in the shower.
She steps under the steam of the water and lets out a sigh. As the water gently teases out the knots in her back, she hears a meow. Her cat, Persephone, had climbed up onto the shower-bath combo’s ledge. Peering at Pandora with her large yellow eyes, Persephone lets out another meow. It has a sense of urgency, but Pandora hadn’t fed her yet. “Give me a moment, ‘Seph. I gotta actually clean up.” Pandora reaches out a hand towards the black cat, but Persephone hisses and jumps away before Pandora can lay her soaked hand upon the furry thing. Pandora chuckles and finishes up, turning the water off. She steps out of the shower and picks up her towel, wrapping it around her hair and another around her body. Stepping out of her ensuite bathroom and dressing in her comfy pajamas, Pandora picks up Persephone and goes to feed her.
When Persephone is properly filled, Pandora realizes that she no longer has the signet ring on. She walks back towards her bedroom and Persephone is on her heels, meowing incessantly. Pandora chuckles and pushes open the door. She looks up. Her face immediately goes deathly pale. In the window, there's a large, full moon illuminating her bed. Pandora looks down and screams. On her pillow, neatly sat, was the face of her John Doe. This day is *anything* but normal.