The screaming started right on the mark, and she closed her eyes to appreciate the music of Anarchy's work. She liked to guess at just how much damage he'd done. He was messy, sure, and liked to take his time with his little games, but he was also absolutely effective, and she had to admit she appreciated his creativity. It just... wasn't her taste, at least in practice. She'd leave the mess-making to him.
Precision, on the other hand, was Bea's forte. Getting gently under someone's skin, administering sedatives, gingerly handling organs so that they didn't burst. Convincing
a squirmy specimen to sit still long enough for her to take a good look at what she wanted to see. Hearing a voice call out, smaller than the screams, but so big in the quiet, to give her the all clear to come in.
She'd spent enough time with Anarchy to know to step carefully as soon as she opened the door. Lucky she did, too, because she almost stepped into a mangled pile of intestines with the body they'd come out of nowhere nearby. At least, not in one piece. She found herself admiring the brutality even while she criticized the waste. But he'd had fun with them, at least.
She heard him before she spotted him, looking over the writing on the walls as two other voices echoed in the otherwise empty room.
"Well, that was a boring game. No one came even close to winning. How . . . disappointing."
"Not enough blood. Enough to send a message."
At least he seemed happy - all three of him. She'd caught on pretty early that her one and only friend was more than one friend. It wasn't really something they talked about, mostly because, as long as they left Bea and her work alone, she didn't mind them. And they didn't seem to bother the primary Anarchy too much, as he sat on the floor, sketching in the blood. She was careful not to step on his work - he'd done a lot to get her in here, after all. All those innards would go to waste if he didn't put them to good use.
She smiled down at him as she passed, resisting the temptation to pat the top of his head as she did so. The only thing stopping her was the fact that she wanted her hands as sanitary as possible when she got down to the bodies - and, well, a hooded head covered in the rapidly drying blood of human beings wasn't exactly sanitary.
"You'd better be planning to clean up before dinner,"
she teased, mostly because she knew full well that he would. If her lab was sacred, his kitchen was a temple, and while her lab was a place for sacrifices and blood and a magical cacophony of screams, his kitchen was a place where culinary miracles were worked. He wouldn't sully it, even if both of them were otherwise fine with the blood. Bea knew Mommy would've approved of him.
Ah, but mommy wasn't here, and Anarchy was Autopsy's friend. He pointed her toward the mortuary proper, and she followed the hall, expecting to find a staircase. Bodies stayed better if kept underground, she'd learned. But this also meant that there might be people who hadn't heard the commotion up here, or maybe stayed hidden from it. That'd be fine, she thought, slipping her hand into her pocket and wrapping it around her knife.
After all, Anarchy wasn't the only one with a decent sense of fun