#waldotective

Where were they? It had been about an hour since the game had begun, and Waldo couldn't feel the detective's presence at all. Waldo had seen the detective clock into work, then begin scanning the crowd for him, and now... Where were they? If they were playing, he would know from the scent of their anticipation or fear, which he couldn't smell at all.

It typically took the detective far less than an hour to find him... unless they've somehow relaxed while on the job...? No, that's not very typical of the detective. Waldo knew something was wrong, and he was worried— for the first time in a long while, he was worried.

This detective was special to him, because they were not like their predecessors. They were surprisingly clever and played his game as it was intended (well, for the most part). If his detective got offed, then it would be a long while until he found another just like him, and that's not a risk he dared to take.

His detective was missing, and he would find the cause of this disruption if had to slaughter his way through. Where to start? Well, he knew that the detective was handling a couple different cases on top of his recently, though he never cared to pay attention to other criminals as long as they weren't disrupting what he and his detective had. That might be a good start.

He twirled his cane and appeared inside the detective's office, with folders stacked neatly on their desk and a cold cup of coffee that was still mostly full. Waldo skimmed through his open case files first, just to chuckle about how little was truly known about him— some of the text was crossed out or annotated in red ink, and the detective was correct about most things. Flattering, but that's not what he was here for. He picked up the opened envelope underneath it, noting the name of the suspect. They were said to be aggressive and had a history of harassing his detective before they were assigned to Waldo's case. Well, this just won't do.

"Hm... this guy is horrible at cleaning up evidence. Captured multiple times?!" Waldo scoffed. One page even stated this lowly crook kidnapped their rivals and and took them to a shipping container on the outskirts of town to torture them for information. That answered his question of where the detective was. The police around here must really suck if they keep letting this idiot get away when they know this much about him... well, he'll make sure to take one no good scum off their hands for good, and the detective will get the pleasure of having a front row seat!

Waldo grabbed the detective's coffee and downed it in seconds (what? They weren't going to finish it now, and it was wasteful to leave it here), and spun his cane.

'Stay alive, detective, our game will not end like this.'

...

The detective woke with a headache, groaning as they tried to rub their head, but their hands were stuck behind them. Ah... they remember. One second they were searching the crowd for Waldo, and then they were knocked out cold, and now they were bound to a metal chair in a shipping container. They knew exactly what happened now, as the figure of a suspect they had been attempting to put behind bars for a few days emerged walked towards the detective with a metal pipe in his hands and a gun on their belt.

The detective glanced around, with what little light the lousy excuse of a seemingly makeshift living quarter provided. This didn't seem to be a permanent home— just a place that this guy camped out in... for whatever reason.

"Start talking, detective. You know why I brought you here," the man threatened. With what little the detective could see of his face, he wasn't that intimidating. Certainly not as much as Waldo. They squirmed in an attempt to loosen the rope around their feet and hands, but to no avail, which earned the detective a hard whack to the gut.

"I wasn't aware there was a time limit to respond," the detective gasped out, then after catching his breath, asked, "what? Why did you bring me here? The only thing you'll get from this is another sentence, and it'll be longer with each attack."

"I want you to clear my name. Promise those assholes you work with that I've changed so I can be free, and I mean really free."

The detective glared at the man, weighing his options to determine which one would keep them alive while ensuring that this man would never see a glimpse of freedom. It was then that they felt a chilling and familiar presence from behind, the two sleeved wrapping around them from behind with a wooden cane in one confirmed their suspicions. One of Waldo's hands rose to lift the detective's chin, all too carefully for a vicious killer. It terrified the detective wonderfully.

"Would you care to explain this, detective?" Waldo questioned with a growl, "well, whatever the reason, this is unacceptable."

The man stumbled backwards, pulling his gun from its holster and pointing it at the detective's head. "You— I didn't see you come in! Stay back, they're mine!"

"Are they?" Waldo laughed wickedly, as his clones closed in from behind, mimicking his laughter, "because last time I checked, you're not their top priority! You're just some sloppy fool who wishes to be intimating," he spat.

Waldo's grip on his detective only tightened, as he tilted their head to watch the criminal, now circled by three Waldos, "watch, dear detective, and see what happens when our game is disturbed."

The detective's mouth opened to shout to leave the man alive, that the right way of punishing him would be to lock them up, to plead Waldo to show mercy, but all that came out was a cough of blood and a whine as the canes fell upon the criminal far too fast and viciously for the detective to keep up with.

By the time the body had stopped moving, Waldo had untied the detective, letting them stand up once the shock resided, though they collapsed to their knees and clutched their stomach not long after. They could already feel the massive bruise that's sure to form by tomorrow as they winced from the pain and wiped the blood from their lips. Waldo nodded to the clones, and each twirled their canes in sync and vanished like they were never there to begin with.

"You are my detective, you play my game," the freakishly tall figure commanded, pacing around front of the detective to lift their head with his cane. It was admittedly a beautiful sight to see the detective's face staring up at him, wanting so badly to make a sarcastic comment or ask questions, yet hesitating.

"Yes of course, this was totally unpredictable, right?" Waldo hit them in the chest with his cane— not too harsh, but enough to hurt just a little— and turned the handle towards the detective with a gesture for them to grab it. As soon as the detective had a good grip on it, he abruptly hoisted them up onto their feet with surprising strength, then hooking it around them briefly to steady them.

"You are damn lucky that idiot left plenty of evidence in his trail," Waldo hissed as he tapped his cane against the floor with a rhythm that mimicked a tsk-tsk-tsk, "and you're welcome for taking this problem off your hands. I expect you to be much more alert next time, dear detective."

The detective stared at Waldo, unsure if he deserved a thanks, electing to pat down their coak pocket for his— he stopped when the creature laughed and looked up. Waldo grinned mockingly and dangled the handcuffs that were in the detective's pockets the last time they checked.

"Did you think you could take this opportunity to arrest me, detective?" the faux human thing mocked, "that would ruin the fun, but oh how I admire your quick wit!" Waldo glared at the bloodied carcass on the floor, kicking it once before waving to the detective and teleporting to another location.

The detective groaned with frustration, searching for their phone, mumbling about how they hoped someone had noticed them missing besides Waldo. Thankfully, they still had their phone on them. They pondered on whether or not to call the police or their friend from the Science Division to give them a ride back to their office, and figured that this situation would likely be best explained with a second witness that they trusted to believe their story. While ringing him, they carefully watched their step as they stepped over the corpse.

The phone rang for a long time, and the detective started wondering if he would even answer. 'Damn it, pick up—"

"Hey, sorry for the sudden call but I got kidnapped— yes, I'm fine," the detective paused, "mostly— anyways, remember the shipping container— yes, that's the place. I'll explain when you get here. You're the only person who I'm sure will believe me. Plus, you know how to get the security tapes for the cameras."

...

Addendum:

Personally I hc the Science Division guy's name to be something that sounds (to me) like a lanky old man name such as Oswald or Arthur. I wanted to include this somewhere so I put it at the end.

The sun had begun setting, bringing Waldo back to that day again, when his clones payed his detective's wife a visit. The terror on the detective's face and smell of absolute fear when he told them that their family was in danger was addictive. He'll never forget how fast the detective bolted out the door, not caring slightly about who they had to shove out of the way as they reached the car and took off, sirens blaring as they disobeyed every traffic law to get home as fast as possible.

The kick that he got out of the detective's terror and despair since that day had sustained him for a very long while, and occasionally when it wasn't enough, he'd stake out the detective's house to wait until they left so that he could teleport himself inside and get a proper look through.

The detective left their son alone in his crib for unspecified periods of time on occasion, sometimes to handle a case (that wasn't Waldo's— which he was very displeased with) and sometimes to run a quick errand. It was during these times that Waldo would occasionally stop by to rummage through the detective's belongings, and if Jr began making noise, he would entertain the child until it was nap time again. Their favorite games were peekaboo and Waldo tried to teach him how to say his name, to not avail (yet).

Waldo had been wandering out of sight for about 4 or 5 hours. The moon has been up for some time and watched the detective's routine through a window plenty of times to know that they had put Jr to sleep by now and popped open a bottle of alcohol or a few and switched the TV on. He had hoped to catch one of the detective's other suspects "by mistake" and scare them into turning themselves in, but none seemed to dare target his detective anymore after the last one who did had "mysteriously" died in their cell, so Waldo decided to check in on the detective... not out of concern, of course, but to make sure that they were still actively playing in his game.

So that's what Waldo did. He stalked his way to the detective's house and listened for the detective's snoring before swirling his cane and teleporting inside once the television made enough noise to disguise that of Waldo's entrance. He took a moment to breathe in the smell of what once was a gruesome crime scene— and his best one yet, if he said so himself.

'How ironic, a "living" room that once had a corpse in it!' Waldo chuckled. He glanced down at the several empty bottles on the table with a scoff and then to the detective's sleeping body on the couch, watching the much shorter figure twitch uncomfortably. For a moment, Waldo wondered if he should wake the detective from their nightmare, but decided against it. Not often does Waldo have an opportunity to get a nice, long look at his little mouse.

He didn't know what compelled him to do such a thing, but he found himself moving to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, his face inches away from his detective's. He may have moved closer if the detective didn't suddenly jolt. That damned heap of electrical tissue thinks that whatever horrific scenarios it can make the detective live through in a nightmare are more horrific than the fear that Waldo can cause them while they're conscious!

Waldo scoffed, imagining what sorry attempt of terror was happening inside the detective's mind. Regardless of whatever it was, he would prefer if the detective was awake for it. Trying not to wake them, Waldo reached out a hand to cup the detective's face. His heart— or whatever he had in place of one— fluttered when the detective's face leaned into his palm and his body began to relax.

Waldo was unfamiliar with this feeling, and wasn't sure if he wanted to explore it further, but he remained there for hours, with his little mouse in his claws (literally), though they didn't close around them for just once. He occasionally ran his hand through the detective's rough hair, noticing a few grey strands. Being a now single father thanks to Waldo truly must difficult. He only hoped that this wouldn't distract the detective, as he should always be their top priority.

Waldo groaned and stood up, disappointed at the fact that his time here would be ending soon. In a few minutes, Jr would wake the detective up with a loud cry. The detective would stumble to tend to their son, and then stumble to their bedroom and fall asleep once again the moment he hit the bed. He picked up his cane and walked back behind the couch, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder at the detective's now peaceful form. He will enjoy watching the detective struggle through the day with the painful, grief-induced hangover that he will surely have— the thought of which amused him.

"Goodbye for now, detective. Our game is not over. I am sure you will know what to do when the time comes. You are much more skilled than your peers," Waldo spoke to the unconscious detective, before spinning his cane and teleporting with a flash. Moments later, Jr's cries awoke them, and as they stumbled to his room, they couldn't shake the feeling that something happened that caused their nightmare to subside. Waldo peered through a window as the detective shook their head and supported themselves with the wall, then faded away into the darkness of the night with a hint of a grin.

He will return eventually, but not anytime soon.

...