Urban exploration and homicide, something many people don't know it's a match like the devil and his demons. Lewis knows more than enough about the dangerous nature of this trending hobby and the crime rates that slowly started to spike. His job, by any means, literally revolves around corpses lying in abandoned areas, places and sometimes even underground tunnels. He had seen his fair share of dead people and places they usually shouldn’t even go to.
In his almost two-decades-long career in the urban crime scene, he had never thought he couldn't get over something he'd see or experience there - there is no connection from him to the corpses he'll find.
Something he will never get over, though, is the way the corpses were found in the pictures he looks at. Fifteen corpses in fifteen abandoned places, ninety places the pieces were strewn across and the symbols of a lion cut into the place where the heart once had been. The last time he had seen those corpses, a then sixteen-year-old had been sentenced to death.
Don’t get him wrong, Lewis doesn’t feel guilty for what he did; justice is the highest moral in his life. What he feels worried about is whether the once sixteen-year-old fled the death row and now wants to continue his thirty-three-long killing streak or if he wants to take revenge on Lewis one day and currently practises again.
"Lewis," his thoughts get interrupted by the unmistakable German accent of Sebastian, a long-time colleague and friend of Lewis’. They started as trainees together, Sebastian in the domestic field while Lewis loved the urban direction.
Turning around to face his friend, Lewis lets the pictures fade out of his vision, immediately noticing the way Sebastian seems uncomfortable. "What’s wrong, Seb? Is it that couple from Britain and Australia that causes trouble again?"
Sebastian laughs for a moment before falling quiet again, something Lewis hates about the German. He’s good at reading almost everyone but when a German person pulls out their neutral face, he has the worst time enciphering possible thoughts and emotions. "The head office just informed me about corpse number 16. We now have sixteen corpses in sixteen abandoned places. However, this corpse is missing the other parts…"
Not good, Lewis feels his heart drop and without much thought, he takes his weapon and marches away. "Lewis, stop!"
No, not anymore, Lewis thinks and starts calling the chief. He needs to confront this murderer as soon as possible!
Exactly fifteen days later, in the early morning, which was too early for his own liking (he normally loves to start his day at seven o'clock in the morning but not with the person he’s about to meet), he stands in front of the very room the murderer is in. By now, the teams found the rest of the sixteenth body and sent him pictures of the body parts, identifying the victim as a thirty-four-year-old model. That poor woman got found on an abandoned runway, how dramatic and ironic...
Counting to ten, Lewis regulates his breathing and knocks three times on the door, waiting another four seconds to enter the room and his eyes immediately zoom in on the murderer who leans on the wall in the darkest corner, hands and feet bound, his face behind a muzzle (fuck, Lewis didn’t realise they held captive a rabid dog) and long, light brown hair with cold eyes staring right through his skull. Chilling, if Lewis has to admit it.
"Officer Sir Hamilton," a thick Dutch accent freezes Lewis. Over nine years ago, this accent framed a young, misled child of god in Lewis’ eyes but now, it’s the reminder of a monster in human flesh, someTHING that doesn’t feel human emotions, someTHING that can never be changed.
"Mister Verstappen," he answers after a moment of silence, his body slowly moving towards the table in the middle of the room, never letting his eyes stray away from the Dutch monster. It’s a shame this nationality will forever be tainted for him because this kid decided to end the lives of thirty-three innocent people in the most brutal way Lewis could imagine.
"Sit down, please," is the only thing he says and watches as the monster walks to the table with practice, the ankle cuffs not bothering him or making his steps falter the slightest bit. He got used to these things, Lewis realises. Even his body got accustomed to the weight because the sixteen-year-old boy isn't seen in this grown man - muscles make the shirt stretch over the right zones, if Lewis has to admit, and the youthful face morphed into a handsome one. If this wouldn't be a criminal, Lewis could see him attracting quite a mass of admirers.
Once Max sat down, he seemed bored and looked around the room, scanning every millimetre of possible threats in the forms of cameras, one-way mirrors or even small microphones, even though he was longer in that room than Lewis so he could've found them by now. "What do you want from me, Officer Sir Hamilton? I’m sure you didn’t put me into a lonely and cold cell for nine years, letting me wait for my punishment, only to come back to me and say hello after all of these years."
Insulted by those simple words, Lewis has to take another deep breath before forcing his body to relax. "I’m here to talk to you, Mister-" "Either Verstappen or Max, not Mister," Max interrupts him, eyes colder than before and his body tensed. "I’m not older than you nor am I my father."
"Max," Lewis sighs, "I, representing the state, want answers from you regarding the murderers you’ve committed."
This surprised the killer because he blinked for a moment, mouth closed and surprise slightly visible in his eyes before he went back to the posture he had before Lewis’ words. "I already told you everything I did to those thirty-three people." "I need you to describe it again."
"I'll generalise it then. All thirty-three assholes got what they deserved - I killed them differently, some with stabs, others with lead and others I hated so much that I strangulated them. After I killed them, I started to separate their heads from their bodies, then their arms and hands and for the last separation, I cut off their legs and feet so their spirits would never find peace in the afterlife. That's all I did to them, no rape, no cannibalism-"
"I have to interrupt you here," Lewis sighs and looks for the right picture to show the killer. Once he finds it, he projects it onto the whitish table and Max nods in understanding.
"Yeah, the lion carved right above their heads might've looked like cannibalism but all I did was burn it in a fire I always had started next to the head. Funny how you're the only one who noticed that even if it's nine years too late. Your other colleagues missed this detail from me."
Now, Max leans forward, putting his bound arms on the table and behind the muzzle, Lewis sees a big grin. Has he awakened the beast?
"You brought me behind bars and closer to my death, Officer Sir Hamilton. Now I have to ask you - why do you want to know more about my murder career, over nine years ago? For what we both know, I'm a dead man. My life will be ending sooner than others and I don't care what's happening to the outer world, so why do you ask me again?"
This isn't how Lewis wanted this conversation to go, he should be the one leading and the monster in front of him should be scared, should be afraid of what he'll say. He should have the reigns in his hands, whip ready to strike the creature in front of him shouldn't it behave but all he does is watch as the reigns fall apart.
"Because sixteen new corpses got found with your signature on them," he decides to reveal and immediately, Max's expression darkens, eyes turning the coldest Lewis could've imagined and body tensing in preparation for a confrontation. "Really?"
"Really," Lewis admits and can see the anger rising in Max, his body straightening up as if to get up, flee and get the copycat himself. "This killer seems to take after your business, having killed sixteen people by now and counting. They also separated the body parts, carved a lion into their chest and had the parts strewn all over the place they killed the victims."
"And I assume you wanted to make sure I wasn't free?" Max looks at him right now, anger almost creating a fire behind those blue eyes that get covered by light brown hair; Lewis never noticed how long and crazy hair can grow in nine years.
"At first, yes," Lewis scratches his head and feels anxiety slowly rising, like a slumbering flood coming back to life. "Now, I need your help to catch this murderer."
Silence fills the room, nobody says anything before Max starts laughing like the maniac he is, leaning back and almost causing the chair to topple over. "The police are pathetic," he brings out in between laughter. "Wanting the help of someone they hate with a passion, what a joke!"
Lewis wants to feel anger and indignation but what Max said is, to a degree, correct and he hoped it wouldn't go like this right now. "I can't believe you want my help for something I'm not involved in!" His laughter turns boisterous and his whole body shakes with the force he has. "You can deal with this motherfucker on your own. I'm not involved-"
"If this person is taking after your killing style, you are involved," Lewis corrects him and the killer stops any motion, leaning back towards Lewis. Really, this man is unpredictable and even harder to read than Sebastian as a German.
"Officer Sir Hamilton, I'll be frank and honest - I don't give a flying fuck about what happens out there," Max looks at him. "All I care about is when death will be forced upon me, everyone wanted me dead since I killed the first person and you want me to help you? I mean, we all know that I have no screw anymore that could be loose but this idea of yours is the craziest thing I've ever heard. You basically want me to kill again, don't you?"
"You're laying words into my mouth that I never intended to use or thought of," Lewis crosses his arms and decides to show him all the sixteen victims now, knowing that he doesn't have any other option left. "This isn't an invite for you to help me, it's an opportunity for your sentence to be lightened if you decide to help us out."
Not answering him, Max looks at the pictures in silence, his eyes looking over the victims before looking up at Lewis again with an insulted face. "How could you think I'd help you out? This isn't my work, I never killed people like them nor do I want a lighter sentence - I don't regret what I did, I'd even repeat my work twice as fast and hard if I'd get out. I'm a monster that has to be locked up, fuck, I even enjoy the cuffs and muzzle. You're scared of me, so much to the point where you only feel safe with me in one room if I'm rendered useless."
Surprised in a morbid way, Lewis blinks and feels his brain trying to work out words he should be saying according to the murderer's words but he can't. All he can do is stare at that once sixteen-year-old murderer who matured in the craziest way he had ever seen.
"If this is all you had to ask me, I'd like to be brought back to my cell," Max stands up and wants to walk towards the door when Lewis grabs his arm, free hand on his gun in case he has to shoot him. "I've got a contract for you, for this case."
"A contract?" Max asks in fake amusement, turning his attention back to Lewis and deciding to sit back down. "Okay, what's in this contract?"
Somehow happy to have his interest, Lewis pulls out the contract and shoves it towards Max who picks it up and starts reading every word printed on the paper. "And this whole contract has the okay from the government and police?" he nods in astonishment, his eyes not moving away from the inked paper.
"If you have questions regarding the content of the contract, please just ask-" "I know, Officer Sir Hamilton, I'm not dumb. I've read enough contracts in my life before."
Right, one detail Lewis overlooks is how well Max did in karting. He even had job offers for Formula One, even though he was only sixteen. A shame this kid couldn't find the right path and got dropped after the revelation of him being a serial killer.
"Why would you allow me to kill people on this mission?" Max looks up. It seems like he did read the fine print, a smart move. "If this mission turns towards other criminals blocking our path of success, I'm not allowed to shoot or threaten them to get results, you, however, have the free reign then to do what you want to do with them to get information. This also includes drug deals, sex offers and your connection with other criminals."
"And about others," Max puts down the contract, "what about the people you'll get to know that are connected with me? Will you use this mission to get to know other criminals to bring behind bars?"
Shaking his head, Lewis feels the temperature rising. "No, I don't care about your contacts and relationships in the criminal scene. All I want is to catch the real murderer and only them. Those who're connected to you will remain faceless for the state and police department as long as they're not caught, which is also written down."
"I just wanted to make sure the contract isn't fake," Max huffs. "But I don't want my sentence to be lessened. I already told you that I neither regret nor not plan to repeat my actions."
"It's still necessary for us to write it down in case you change your mind and do your work so well," Lewis rubs his forehead and watches as Max nods. "Do you need a pen to sign?" "Cut my finger, ink is easily fakeable."
"Official documents like this can only be signed with ink, Mis-" "Max, and my blood is my ink as it connects the signature to my only being, DNA and shit."
Feeling defeated, Lewis nods and stands up. "I will go grab a knife for your finger. Wait here and don't destroy the contract, please." "Didn't plan on doing anything," Max laughs and closes his eyes while Lewis leaves the room.
Once the door is closed behind him, Lewis breathes out heavily. "I didn't think this day would go like this," he looks at the guard, Oscar is his name and nods at him to make sure Max won't run out.
But he won't do that criminal the favour of giving him a knife, he'd be just as a lunatic as this Verstappen kid. And he isn't dumb, he knows that a contract is only valid if it got signed with state-approved ink and frankly, blood isn't even an ink in the first place. So what he'll do is simple - get a knife and pen, let Max cut his finger with the knife and give him the pen. If the majority of the signature is of state-approved ink, it's valid.
With quick steps, he moves towards his office, bumping into Sebastian in the process. "Woah, Lewis," the German is surprised and laughs. "What got you this worked up and hectic? Do you finally have a date?"
"What?" Lewis turns towards him in surprise and shakes his head. "I need to get a knife for that Verstappen kid, he wants to sign the contract with his own blood." With a huff, Seb looks at him. "You're not going to give him the satisfaction of invalidating the contract, do you?"
"No," Lewis shakes his head, trying to remember where he put his knife the last time he had it. "But he only wants to sign the contract if it's with his blood, so I need to compromise because I need his expertise in this case."
He finally remembers the old roll container should have his knife since it's the only thing that can be locked by a key. The first drawer should have his knife in and with a swift motion, he gets the knife only for his wrist to be grabbed by Sebastian.
"Are you seriously letting him out of his cell?" he asks incredulously, "he killed thirty-three people and never regretted it! He'll kill you the first chance he gets, Lewis. This isn't a movie where the psycho gets changed by the main lead-"
"And it shouldn't be," a new voice scares both officers and together, they turn around to see Max leaning on Lewis' door frame, Oscar right behind him with a face that screams "I don't know how we got here!".
Drawing his gun, Sebastian moves right in front of Lewis, pointing the barrel right at Max's head who only laughs and stays relaxed. "Chill out, Wessi. I'm not here to even think about doing anything. Just thought that it might be smarter to sign the contract with more than one witness in the room. Y'know, for the validity of it."
Surprised, both Sebastian and Lewis freeze and Max holds up the contract, still neat and without any crinkle. "This guard here was by my side the whole time we walked here, so chill out. Other officers already tried that trick. Don’t know why they even tried to intimidate me, never really worked on me since I was twelve or so."
The surprise quickly wears off on Lewis and he quickly closes the distance between him and Max. "Go back to your room, Max. You're not supposed to be here nor should you have had the chance of seeing any of this."
"You make it sound like I'm a spy for the FBI or so," Max chuckles and Oscar already sees his termination being printed out. He shouldn't have been so easy to persuade, really. You guys are hiring literal children to keep criminals like me in check? Shame on you."
Getting furious, Sebastian wants to get into Max’s face but, lucky for Max, Lewis is faster and gets Sebastian to calm down a bit. "This isn’t a discussion to be held with us or right now, Max," Lewis turns his attention towards Max who just huffs and shrugs, unimpressed.
"Please, just sign this contract and our heads won't explode-" "Cut my finger or hand and I'll sign," Max seems to enjoy interrupting Lewis since he grins when he shoots him an annoyed look.
"I don't think I can let you do this, Max. Blood is not considered state-approved ink and I can't risk my life having you by my side if I let you void the validity of the contract," Lewis sighs and gives Max a pen to just sign it.
"Awe, I thought you could've bent the rules for me, seeing as you're a walking machine at this point with all the computers and stuff in your head," the killer pouts and huffs in fake disappointment, clearly having lost the fun of the situation. "Stomme, saaie hoerenzoon," he mumbles and signs the contract.
"Now that I signed it, can I please get these restraints off of me?" he holds up his cuffs around his hands, having the decency to look somewhat annoyed and with a headshake, Sebastian opens the cuffs after Lewis digitalised the contract and put it somewhere safe.
"Finally," Max moans for dramatic effect, rubbing his wrists and looking at the slight redness on them. If Lewis didn't know better, he would worry that the cuffs were too tight. "There," Sebastian is fully annoyed now and leaves Lewis' office right after that, taking Oscar with him and leaving Max and Lewis alone.
"Soooo," Max grins and tries to get his hair slightly out of his face, cringing at the greasy texture, "I’ve signed the contract, just as you wanted. Can I now go out or what did you plan for me to do now?"
Despite his head containing mostly technology, Lewis swears he can feel a migraine forming behind his skull, trying to wrap his head around Max’s personality and mood swings. He’s worse than a pregnant lady in her worst moment.
"I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Max. You still have the ankle cuffs and muzzle on and I would have to remove both things in front of the chief. So for now, you’re not going anywhere other than the big boss," Lewis starts walking past Max, hoping that the chief will take some mercy on him.
"You’re hurting me, Sir Officer Hamilton," Max follows him, Lewis can hear the ankle cuffs on the Dutchman’s feet clanking together. "You do know that I once had a home those years ago, no? I’d much rather spend a night there and then be stuck with you forever than be back in the cell for a night, no matter how comfy that one was. You’re a cruel man to let a poor child like me suffer such horrible conditions."
“Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you can be when you whine?” Lewis snaps for a moment and only hears Max chuckle. “Of course they do, why do you think I was in an only cell? Humanity nowadays can’t appreciate good literature or speeches anymore,” Max sighs, just as dramatically as before. “I wish it were nine years back when people were dumber and more naive, thinking a child couldn’t possibly kill thirty-three people.”
Okay, Lewis had enough and decided to just switch his mind to autopilot, having had enough of Max and his jumps from one topic to another.
They make it through the process of going to the chief, getting Max freed from the ankle cuffs and muzzle before deciding to see if they still had his belongings after nine, almost ten years to give them back to him. Funny enough, they find some things and return them to Max before Lewis gets instructed to chauffeur him back to his old home.
Great, just the thing he wanted to do the most right now!
So now, they’re sitting in Lewis’ personal car, with Max humming to some random radio song while Lewis wishes for some tree to just lose its rooting and fall on top of his car, crushing both him and Max to just end his suffering. Why god decided to punish him with Max Verstappen as his passenger, he will most likely never know.
“Hey, Officer Sir Hamilton?” Max turns towards him, attention fully on Lewis. “Why me? You could’ve downloaded all the data about urban crimes or could’ve gotten someone else, another criminal to aid you. Why did you choose me?”
“Don’t question my reasoning,” Lewis groans in annoyance, already anticipating an absurd sentence spewing from Max. “But I enjoy questioning strange things,” Max huffs. “It’s the whole purpose of doing it, not just to annoy people. I don’t really get the need from you to use my twisted and upside-down mind to catch someone just as fucked as me?”
Surprised by Max’s thoughts, Lewis has to say that he sees the point. “It’s actually easy. As I already told you, the current serial killer copies your style of murdering people, with slight differences in the way they chop off the limbs; you always cut off the hands and legs from the arms and legs, but this person doesn’t. And the heart is also inside the people’s body despite your style being to always get the hearts out to burn it. This person might be a copycat, so I need the original to think like the copycat.”
“Hm, makes sense,” Max nods and turns back to the road that turns more narrow, they officially left the city now judging from the the downgrade of houses and the quality of the road. Lewis just hopes that he can drop off Max as soon as possible and then get some well-deserved quiet time for himself and the files he needs to organise.
“I need to get up to date with the streets again,” Lewis hears Max mumbling but when he turns towards Max for a short moment, the serial killer is still looking outside the car window. As if he never said anything, Max stays quiet for the rest of the car ride until Lewis parks his car outside an old house.
Red brick stone walls look at Lewis, having had better days in former years as moss and ivy slowly hide the redness of the house. Even the roof looks embarrassingly sad with the roof tiles rotting away or falling off, it’s not a good sight. But what saddens Lewis the most is the hedge behind the property’s fence - grown high and wild, blocking everyone’s view with the last remaining leaves on this cold autumn day.
From what the hedge hasn’t hidden, Lewis can make out that the windows are all closed and the blinds shut; nothing really tells Lewis that this house still has life inside but Max gets out of the car and walks towards the house.
“This kid is crazy,” Lewis grumbles and rushes to get out of the car and after Max, hoping that his car wouldn’t be stolen in this neighbourhood. Jogging after the Dutchman was easy until they got to the fence of the property. Behind it there’s a garden, small and dead after summer passed but still a hint that people had to have lived here during summer.
“Can’t remember we planted those pink and orange flowers. Officer Sir Hamilton, can you scan those flowers and tell me what they are?” Max, kneeling on the slightly wet ground, looks up at Lewis and with annoyance clear on his face, Lewis finds the answer quickly and easily. “Those are Asters and the other ones are Camellias,” he points to the orange flowers first and then the pink ones before having to take a double take since Max wasn’t kneeling down anymore.
Ringing the doorbell, Max ignores the way Lewis angrily tries to reprimand his way of moving and thinking. “I can’t believe you’d use me to get information and then just leave, as if you never had interest in that!” Lewis complains and goes silent, noticing Max’s own silence and the way the Dutchman looks at the door.
They both stay and wait in silence for a good minute, Lewis already turning around to leave again when the door creaks open with a loud sound. As if Max expected it, he stays put and slowly peaks out behind the door to see whoever openedthe door for him. “Good morning you sleepy fucker,” he says and the door bursts open.
Hands grab Max and pull him inside, leaving Lewis perpllexed and confused outside. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he calls out after Max and leaves, weirded out by the way the Dutchman got just snatched inside but to be fair, Lewis is too glad that he finally has some time away from Max now. Maybe he also has finally time to really look at the pictures of the victims and all the reports?
No matter what, Lewis will use the rest of the day to get some mental rest from the nightmare that Max Emilian Verstappen is.