Chapter Text
With a groan, Osmosis turned over and covered his head with his worn-out, yet still soft blanket that his mom gave him a few years back. His alarm continued its obnoxious, blaring, screeching, echoing off the cloud gray walls of his messy room, but, what really woke him was the disgusting smell of the mold-dripping ceiling laid above him.
He lazily shifted, turning his head towards the alarm, only for his eyes to widen before he darted up. He looked at the old slanted calendar hanging off of his wall, whispering a quick "Fuck!" before rushing to the bathroom to get ready.
As usual, he was late to his job as a homicide detective for the fifth time this month. He knew that if he didn't get his shit together now, the chief where to surely kill him the moment he walked through those doors. Ozzy trudged into the bathroom to turn on the sink.
As he stood across from the mirror, completely distracted by his disheveled appearance, he would begin to listen as the sink began to fill, unknowing of the fact it began to overfill. He looked down at the overflowing sink. "God, dammit," he muttered, the water spilling from the sides. He would grab a bleach-stained towel from the dusty bathroom closet. tossing it onto the worn-out, white, Linolium floors after turning the sink off and drying up all the water. He knew he was only wasting more and more time, letting out an annoyed groan.
Ozzy quickly splashed water onto his face, getting rid of the puffy, tired feeling that he had and washing the sleepiness from his eyes. He snatched his blue toothbrush from its holder, squeezing out a minty paste from a surely expired toothpaste tube onto the soft bristles of his toothbrush. After around 20 minutes of being in the dimly lit bathroom, he wore the same wrinkled white button-up shirt, black vest and all tied together with his black trousers.
.......
"JONES! IN MY OFFICE, NOW!!" Ozzy could hear the chief yell at the top of his lungs the moment he walked through the doors, just as he predicted. A few officers near Ozzy let out a few mocking chuckles; nothing Osmosis isn't used to.
"It looks like it's back to the meters for you, Jones." One of them said and let out an audible cackle. Ozzy had wanted to be a detective all his life; as a child, Ozzy would constantly wear the same make-shift detective costume that his mother had made for him on his fifth birthday while trying to 'arrest' the neighborhood children for loitering or being too loud or disruptive. (He got beaten up a lot.) But he didn't want it as badly as he wanted to punch Detective Colonic right in the jaw.
Ozzy quickly walked to the chief's office, a nervous feeling pitting deep in his chest. "Chiefy-weefy! How are ya' on this fine day?" Ozzy said, trying to sound as pleased as possible with a faux grin. "Don't Chiefy-Weefy me, Jones. This is the fifth time this month you have been late. You need to take this job seriously! Cells's lives are on the line."
"I get it! I get it! Some cells need help and rely on us." Ozzy said, annoyed. "I'd take it more seriously if you treated me like a real detective. Give me a real case! I'm tired of being assigned the most ridiculous things, Chief!" Osmosis said, leaning against the chief's desk.
"Jones, the only reason you are still here is because your mother was my friend and I promised her I would keep an eye on ya'." Osmosis sighed. The Chief and his mother had been friends since high school, almost inseparable. "You can't expect me to treat you like a real 'detective' if you're not going to take your job seriously! You are one more screw-up away from being fired, and I'm not kidding."
Ozzy sighed, sitting down in the chair in front of the chief's desk. "I'm sorry, chief," Osmosis muttered, slouching down in the chair with his arms crossed. The chief looked down at Ozzy for a moment before letting out a quick sigh and reaching into his drawer.
"Fine, you want to be treated like a real detective?" He asked. Ozzy perked up at this, sitting up in his seat. The chief slammed down a file on his desk, passing it over to Ozzy. "I have this case that has been sitting in my drawer for a while. 10 prostitutes in their late 50's and 60's were found brutally beaten and murdered." The chief began to explain, all while Ozzy flipped through the file.
"This case needs to be completely kept under wraps until we have enough evidence to pursue. We cannot let the media know about this. The last thing we need are pimps blowin' away Johns left and right because they feel a certain type a'way." The chief said, watching as Ozzy's eyebrows furrowed as he continued reading. "There's absolutely no evidence in this. What do you expect me to do with this garbage?" Osmosis thought, giving a perplexed look.
"Is there a problem?" The chief asked. "This case has been open for almost two and a half years, and there's no evidence other than they were all wearing the same colored lipstick. Has no one looked into it?" Osmosis asked out loud, yet he knew the answer in the back of his head.
This is the city of Frank. No one cares about prostitutes here; you're more likely to be arrested for spitting on the sidewalk anyway. The chief leaned back in his chair and shrugged as if to say 'This is all you get.' "You better get started, Jones." and with his head, motioned him to the door.