The heat rolled off of the asphalt in nasty waves. The hottest day on record, said that pretty-boy secretary shuffling papers at the office. Didn't matter though; all I knew was the burn of the sun through my uniform, my shoes sticking to the nastiness plastered on the sidewalk. I remember Carnes; we were boys when we first met; his ugly red hair always stood out; "Pumpkin Guts", we called him; we were all assholes back then. I never heard exactly what happened with the guy; we lost touch after I went to academy. I've seen shit in my time; gory shit, creepy shit, shitty shit. The world's a shit place, with shit people, and no amount of training can prepare you for that. I learned the hard way, like most of the others do; by wading through the shit. That said, something about this case cut me down hard. From the moment I left the squad car with Nelson at my side, something about it sent chills up my arms, and nothing about that day's heat helped it. Jimmy Parsons had already made it; him and "The Duke" were getting their asses handed to them by the massive crowd that had gathered. Some kid from another department was working on getting the tape up, while his buddies from Forensics took their first looks. Then it was me and Nelson's turn. Nelson went white as a ghost; I didn't blame him. The boiling street didn't help quell the sticky sweet smell rising from what was left of Carne. I felt a muttered "Fuck" rise from my lips, my mouth getting a mind of its own from shock. It looked like the man's brains were covering about half of 5th, contrasting sharply against the expensive-looking Rolex glinting on his fat wrist in the Manhattan sun. I smirked then, in spite of myself; looked like ol' Pumpkin Guts had made something of himself. While Nelson gathered intel from the other teams, I went to talk to the one of the kids from Forensics. Sweat stood out on his forehead in beads. He looked as bad as Nelson had, and as bad as I knew I looked. "Afternoon" he said, almost whispering. He went to shove the thick glasses back up his nose, the eyepiece sliding down almost immediately. Whoever had done this to him had serious balls. The body wasn't found til early morning, and most of the witnesses had been on their way to work at the Rockefeller. Looked like he was another casualty of the gang violence spilling over from Hell's Kitchen; the powder burns, the ripe smell of hot metal still held on the corpse. Bunch of snobby Italian idiots, in my own opinion. Been the same for the last hundred years or so, and would be for the next. Didn't even register in my mind when I first crouched down, and looked again at that fancy Rolex. I had a thing for expensive things, so sue me. I wouldn't have even noticed unless it were for that watch; I mean, how often do you look at a body's hands over the gaping hole in the head? Carne's hands stood at odd angles, almost raising themselves up off the putrid road, the nails cracked and torn, with several missing. Blood had congealed on the tips and joints, freezing his fingers into horrible poses. Something like that happens when you fight for your life; the only other time I'd seen it happen was from my early patrol days, after breaking up a bad bar fight. One wise guy had a crack over another patron's jaw, breaking the fella's left mandible, and most of his fingers. The guy's arm looked like a purple club when we cuffed him. Carne looked like this, but worse. So much worse. His phalanges looked like he'd been in the fight of a lifetime, and losing. Something else, too; the blood spatters were all wrong; normally, they pretty obviously follow the path of the projectile, and cover everything; here though, the bloods stayed near the body, and went out in a spiral of congealed specks. I didn't know what could have caused that, and it chilled me to the core. Apparently, it bugged the hell out of Forensics, and the kid stood there looking stumped. After a bit, he turned to the cases resting nearby, pulling out some tagged baggy. "Ever see anything like this?" He looked ashen. I took the bag. Inside looked almost like some kind of chewed up candy; maybe a cherry gummy worm. I looked at him, a bit incredulous. "Some kinda candy, right? What's this show?" "Look closer." he stated, crossing him arms sternly. I peered at the bag, poking at the thing inside. Without a warning, it flipped and wriggled, and it sure as hell tried to get out. I almost dropped it, it scared me so bad. "My team found that on the body, apparently trying to crawl out of the brain casing." "The hell is it?" "That's what were trying to find out." he stated bluntly, pulling the baggy from my grasp, returning it to its case. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer you didn't mention this to your superiors until we gather more information." I stood there silently for a bit, locking eyes with the man. "I mean.... if that's what you need." I said slowly, going back to where Nelson was still chatting with Parsons. This was getting a bit far-fetched for me. For the first time in 13 years of service, I had no idea what to do next. Something about this scared me, and scared me bad.