Gerard Way: Crime Scene Investigator

Bob parked in front of the large mansion and gently woke Gerard from his slumber.

“Gee, wake up. We’re here.” His eyes opened slowly as the fog of sleep left him.

“Okay, I’m awake. Let’s go.” He got out of the car and stretched, still ignoring the rain. It was refreshing. They walked up to the front door, and Gerard knocked on the heavy door. The wealthy man answered it.

“Anything I can do for you?” he asked. Gerard held up a small plastic bag containing the diamond.

“Care to explain this?” he asked flatly. The man took a quick glance at it and shook his head.

“Doesn’t look familiar.”

“It was found in the handle of your employee’s gun. We already know he was a drug smuggler and in possession of at least one illegal firearm, so don’t lie to us.” The man hesitated for a moment before allowing them inside.

“You see, every diamond - every legal one, anyways - has its own serial number laser inscribed on it. Illegal ones don’t. Take a guess at which one this is,” said Bob.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the man. His accent made him sound like a member of the Mafia, something that only served to set the two investigators on edge.

His words almost made Gerard snap.

“Look. Our crime lab suffered an attack this morning and one of my CSIs is in the hospital. So you tell us the truth, or so help me I will lock you up for the rest of your life,” the senior investigator said coldly. Bob’s eyes widened. Gerard was mad.

“I have to go where the money’s at,” the man said simply. “When I had to get more employees to help with...distribution, my profits started to drop. Diamonds are worth a lot on today’s market, and I couldn’t afford to lose any money.”

“Why, do you owe someone?” asked Bob while Gerard regained his composure. The man lowered his voice as if someone was eavesdropping.

“Look, there’s not a lot I can tell you if I hope to wake up tomorrow.”

“If your information leads to the capture and arrest of any smugglers, we can knock some time off your sentence,” Bob offered. The man’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting a jail sentence, even after Gerard’s comment.

“There’s a group that controls everything that goes on in the city.”

“What, like a gang?” Gerard asked. He received a serious look.

“They’re much more than one of your little street gangs, Lieutenant. When I say they control everything, I mean they literally control the city.”

“Could you be more specific?” asked Bob, who was taking notes. “A meeting place, a symbol they usually use...”

“A name?” added Gerard.

“They call themselves The Black Parade.”
-
The rain had picked up by the time they left the mansion. Bob finally conceded and let Gerard drive his own car. They had gotten an address, their only current lead. They came to a run-down apartment complex on the other side of town. Gerard tentatively kept one hand on his gun. He didn’t like this part of town very much. Bob knocked on the door.

A short, tattoo-covered man answered the door. A half-finished cigar dangled from one corner of his mouth, and his breath smelled strongly of alcohol.

“Hey, you must be the guys from the lottery. Did I get anything?” he asked with a drunken laugh. Gerard almost rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m thinking you’ll get twenty-five to life.”