Hm. So this came to me in the middle of the night. What would happen if Scott Shelby wasn't the Origami Killer? That would be answered here, so let's get started!

As a disclaimer, Heavy Rain, it's characters, and it's locations do not belong to me. They belong to David Cage and the guys at Quantic Dream.

Right, with that out of the way, let's get going!



Scott Shelby was in a bit of a dilemma. Money was coming in slowly, his apartment was in pretty bad shape, and he was getting very few new cases.

I should never have left the police force, he thought briefly. At least there I had some form of recurring income.

Needless to say, making the shift to a private investigator had never done wonders for Shelby. The pay was slow and days were often empty, but at least he wasn't being held down by rules and forensics. Being a private investigator, he got to take a slightly more hands-on approach. Ever since his father had been shot by burglars at a very young age, he had always had some kind of fascination with working in law enforcement. And on the police force, he got to do just that.

Only problem was, it was stifling. As an investigator, he got to come to more conclusions. And that felt much more rewarding to him in the long run.

But at the same time, he go paid less, and people weren't as willing to come to him with a problem. And that was a little worrisome. Especially with his mother in the hospital with Alzheimers and his brother John blowing all of his money on alcohol.

So it was no surprise when the phone rang that he was eager to pick it up. He looked down at the number and shrugged.

"Scott Shelby, private investigator," said the overweight man. "How may I help you?"

"Hey Scott, it's Carter," said the voice on the other line.

Scott smiled warmly. Lieutenant Carter Blake had always been one of his closest friends on the force. He was a bit reckless and brash, but Scott and Carter got along especially well even if Scott was wary of some of his methods. They chatted every so often when Scott left the force, so feelings between them were quite codial.

But Carter never called Scott directly. Knowing this, Scott felt a bad feeling well up in his mind. All the same, though, he was pleased to talk to Carter.

"Hey, Carter!" greeted Scott. "Odd for you to be calling me!"

"I know, right?" asked the police lieutenant. "How's your work as a private investigator going?"

Scott shrugged at this. "The usual," he said. "Not enough jobs, not enough people hiring me, that sort of thing."

"Right," said Carter. It was obvious he was shifting something on his desk. "Listen, Scott, I know you don't work with the police force anymore, but I think we could use your help with a case I've been assigned on. I don't know if you've heard of the Origami Killer?"

The investigator rose his eyebrow at this. "Of course," said Scott. "He's been a media sensation for two years. I'll admit it's one case I'd really like to tackle, but none of the families have come to me."

"Well, they won't have to come to you," replied the policeman. "I'm going to hire you to help out with the case."

At this, Scott looked down at the phone in surprise. Shifting around so that he would sit in his desk, he looked down at the various manila folders scattered around his desk. "Really?" he asked. "Don't you think you should ask Perry about this first?"

"I already told him," replied Carter without missing a beat. "He told me we could use all the help we could get, especially with the media hounding down on this killer the way he is. But I'll be paying you directly out of my own pocket."

Scott nodded, pulling out a manila folder. Noticing the paperwork was empty, he grabbed a pen from somewhere and brought it to the paper. "All right," he says. "Give me the names of his victims and I'll try to find somewhere to start with that."

"You're not going to discuss prices first?" asked Carter, his voice obviously quite surpised.

Scott smiled as he began to write on the sheet of paper before him. "I'll be giving you a discount," he said. "Consider it a favor from a friend."

"Great!" said Carter. "Thanks a lot, Scotty!"

"Hey, any time, Carter," said Scott. "Now, remind me who the victims are again?"

Carter listed them off after that. After a rather friendly conversation, they hung up, leaving Scott to decide what to do with a list of seven names. He looked down at each name, pondering where he could start. He only had names, no evidence as of yet, and nothing to start with.

I wonder where some of their parents are... he thought. Maybe they'd know something.

Deciding that was the best course of action to go by, he looked down the list of names again, his finger going to one name and then the next. He pondered which name he should work with, and then his finger came to rest on one name out of the list.

John Winter

Something about the name Winter rung with Scott. A previous case of his came to mind; he had been hired by an Arthur Winter; he had hired Scott to investigate a burglary of his brother Peter's engagemen ring. The Winter family was of course not at all well off; Arthur and Peter had been together in a rather dingy apartment that could barely fit one person (let alone two), Arthur because he owned it and Peter because his wife had kicked him out. While he was at the apartment, Peter had mentioned something about his family, about how his wife Lauren was useless and how the only good thing she had ever done was to give him little Johnny. He was apparently angry that she was always selling herself to other men, having no other option.

Peter had disappeared according to what he had heard from the media when John Winter died. The name brought a lot of memories back.

But he also realized at the same time that the media completely avoided mentioning Lauren in all of that.

Maybe she might know something?

Scott decided it was the only lead he had at the moment. He would have to ask Carter about some of the other victims' parents, but that could come later. He had known Peter Winter; perhaps Lauren would know something?

Armed with this knowledge, he looked out into the rainy night. He stood up from his desk and grabbed the trenchcoat from the coat hanger before leaving the apartment.

His investigation into the Origami Killer had begun.