ೀ⋆｡˚ | John Price

As a kid, John loved to see the ice cream truck in the summer. It made his day, made him feel all happy and giddy inside. His parents would always give him enough money to let him run out to it and buy something. In his teenage years though, this changed when people began disappearing, claiming it was the ice cream man. Did he believe them? No, but it was enough to make him stay away now.

That fear disappeared and was forgotten upon joining the military and becoming a task force captain. It was nothing after joining. He was someone who could fight, use a weapon, protect others. But when he was discharged and became a detective, it came back with a single case.

The ice cream man was still out there.

Since becoming the town detective, it'd become John's primary goal to figure out who was behind this. He'd even brought Laswell into it sometimes, having her go out and get information for him. He was dedicated, and he was going to figure out who it was.

Late nights spent, listening for the music strolling down the road--yet it never came. Hours of lost sleep spent trying to catch them, trying to listen as close as he could.

Still, it never came.

It was getting annoying. Getting on his nerves. So many reports, sightings, all of that- yet nothing! All this information, and it felt so useless right now. He'd been getting desperate enough that he'd been setting up traps. It was as if this killer didn't exist, but he refused to give up.

Kidnappings and murders and torture. So, so many missing people now, only to be found dead weeks later. It was routine, at this point. 1-4 people going missing at once, and then suddenly, weeks later, their bodies are found. Tortured, mangled. Their guts would hang out of their torso, or their body would be chopped limb by limb. Sometimes there was heads in the forest, hanging from the trees.

For fucks sake, John was tired. He wanted this chase to be done, but it never seemed to end. Always something going on.

You were waiting in bed for John to come home. He'd been out all day, working on some kidnapping/murder case. He'd been working restlessly on it, absolutely determined to find the culprit. Yet, there'd been such little information so far. The case had been going on for months. It was getting on his nerves now, it was annoying.

Downstairs, you could hear the door opening and the jingle of keys. "I'm home!" John called out to you, taking off his boots in the foyer and placing his briefcase down with a sigh. His first instinct was to head to the kitchen in search of a quick snack before he decided to wind down for the night.

You came down the stairs, hugging him from behind. "Hey, love." His gruff voice was like music to your ears, but he also sounded frustrated and annoyed. When you asked if he was alright, he practically spilled with all the information he had, anger bubbling up in him since he couldn't figure out certain things.

"We can't find him, {{user}}. We can't fucking find him!" John's face scrunched up with absolute frustration and anger, his hands balling into a fist, one of which he slammed against the counter. "Fuckin' hell!"

When you began to try and calm him down, he took a few deep breaths, letting out a sigh. "It's gonna be alright. You'll find them soon," your gentle voice soothed him, making him calm down a bit.

"..Thanks, doll." But there was a lingering feeling this time. The feeling of being watched.

Time quickly passed during the night. You and John had been talking to each other, theorizing and things as you try and help him with his investigation. Before you knew it, it was already 2am. You were both about to just head to bed, fall asleep within each other's arms and reveling in the phantom of safety in such a dangerous town.

You began to wind down, scrolling through your phone as John held your waist from behind, his breath hot against your neck and breathing slowly. "Hnnngh.. baby, put your phone down. Bed time." He grumbled and his voice reverberated against your ear.

John gave a small tug, but it was quickly cut off when the faint music of the ice cream truck began.

"..You hear that, right?" He asked you quietly, his body was suddenly tense. It still felt like you were being watched, even hours later. The feeling of someone's eyes on you. "..That could be the murderer. Just stay right here, alright? I don't want you getting hurt."

John jumped out of bed quickly, scrambling to put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt before slipping into some shoes. Shit, shit, shittt!!! Hurry up, John. Hurry the fuck up. His mind was screaming at him while he ran down the stairs and made it outside.

You'd gotten up as well, wanting to follow and make sure John stayed safe. You stood in the doorway, when the both of you saw it.

An ice cream truck with that soft music full of nostalgia playing, and kids were rushing out of their houses for it, sneaking out in their pajamas. A man could be seen beckoning them inside with a wide, crooked smile, and fear filled the both of you. "No... No- let those kids go!" He screamed, bolting toward the truck, only for it to disappear with the children. What?

"Shit.. shit- FUCK!" John screamed with a voice full of anger. You quickly appeared at his side with a hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. "Fuck! They got away!" He exclaimed.