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🕑 Added 2025-09-11 04:41:00 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 123 – The World Is Fucked
“Have you ever had personal problems with the pressure you face at work?” In the living room of Larry’s apartment, Jane, sipping a glass of wine, asked curiously.
“All the time.”
After saying that, Larry glanced at his drink and added, “Everyone has problems. Even agents like you question their work. The truth is, in this world we don’t make it a better place—we’re just containers holding back bad people.”
“You’re the first one to tell me that.” Jane hadn’t yet felt that she had reached her limit in this line of work.
“You’ll notice it eventually. That’s something everyone in our job learns on their own.” Larry spoke to her about a few more cases and gave her advice about the mistakes she was making.
Later that night, Jane fell asleep in the living room.
“Forgive me…” Larry lifted her gently, carried her to her room, and after making sure she was sound asleep, went out to take care of some problems.
…
Early in the morning, Larry entered the office and saw Jane sitting at her desk.
She looked at him nervously, not knowing what had happened the previous night. Asking would only make the situation more embarrassing.
Larry acted naturally—he had done this on purpose, to have an alibi.
“Anything new?”
“Alan confessed everything. The case is closed.”
Larry wasn’t surprised that Alan had confessed, so he simply nodded at the agents in greeting.
After putting his things away, Max and the others came in humming a tune. Their eyes lit up when they saw Jane.
“Everyone’s saying that by persuading Alan’s daughter, you helped the agents get his full confession!”
Jane narrowed her eyes at Max and sighed. “I didn’t really do anything.”
“If you call doing the agents’ job nothing, then I’d say you’re way too humble,” said Jack, walking in with the report.
Once everyone was gathered, Jack began recounting the story of the crime.
The story began fifteen years ago.
Alan’s family was poor, so as a child he was sent to live with a group of elders in a sanctuary devoted to the old Norse beliefs. There, he was taught about sacrifices to Odin and the gods of war and death, and he was instilled with the idea that blood was the bridge connecting Midgard with the higher worlds. He grew up surrounded by runes, chants, and tales of human sacrifice that, according to his teachers, ensured prosperity or vengeance.
When he became an adult, Alan returned to his hometown. Some time later, he met Margaret at a concert and married her. But tragedy struck soon: Alan’s sister died two years into the marriage.
Consumed by fury, Alan grew violent toward Margaret. He beat her and humiliated her constantly until she fled to her parents’ home. Out of fear of dishonor and reprisals, they refused to take her in and sent her back to her husband. Margaret, with nowhere to belong, vanished.
Alan searched for her in vain for months. But when he returned to the village, he found a funeral banner with runic symbols hanging at the entrance of his home: his parents had died two days earlier, leaving only his daughter orphaned.
One of his uncles, a fervent believer in the old rites, told Alan that it was all punishment from the gods for the rebellious wife who had brought disgrace upon the family. Alan, already burdened with years of pagan indoctrination, believed it without question. Entrusting his daughter to that uncle, he left with the money he had, convinced that he had to restore the gods’ favor.
In 2004, Alan arrived in the city and started a small business. Later he discovered that Margaret also lived there. When he found her, there was no quarrel or violence at first—he embraced her and took her to his makeshift home. But Margaret was no longer the same. She had tasted another kind of life, full of freedom and pleasures, and she had no intention of returning to Alan’s misery. Before New Year’s, she asked him for a peaceful separation.
Alan agreed, but insisted they spend the holiday together. And on New Year’s Eve, 2005, obsession and religious fanaticism merged: Alan murdered Margaret.
Following the tales of his childhood, he dismembered her and cooked her flesh, believing he was offering a worthy blót to Odin. He kept the bones in a box inscribed with runes, hidden under his bed, as a symbol that the goddess Hel guarded her in the afterlife.
The sacrifice transformed him. Over the next year, he killed three prostitutes, convincing himself that each was another tribute to the gods. No one cared about those women, and that only reinforced his belief that fate had marked them as offerings.
Over time, Alan tried to live a normal life: his daughter grew up, he bought a house, and he seemed to leave the darkness behind. But the gods he had invoked never abandoned him. Every time he met a new woman, he believed he saw in her a reflection of Margaret—a reminder of his debt to the ancient powers.
On September 1st, at Amber’s house, the sight of a knife in the kitchen reawakened the ritual beast inside him. He felt that Odin demanded blood. He prepared with gloves and an apron, entered the bedroom, and repeated what he had rehearsed countless times in his mind: kill, dismember, clean, pack.
With cold precision, he disposed of the remains in sewers and streets, convinced that the gods would shield him from discovery. In his own words, each murder was one more step toward a greater sacrifice—one that would secure his place in Valhalla.
“That’s what I thought,” said Will, after analyzing the case with the information Larry had gathered.
“Good work, everyone.” Jack praised his agents and looked fixedly at Larry before leaving.
That look told Larry he needed to focus on the case.
