Not sure why I started it but I saw some serial killer Quinn stuff and thought it was a cool idea. Let me know what you think. You can find the theme music on youtube under 'The constancy part 2'.

*Theme music - The Constancy Part 2*


Quinn walks from her apartment as if it was an ordinary day. She waves to her neighbor and continues down the steps of her apartment, her movements sliding into slow motion.

As she hits the streets a blood drop falls from the sky and plants itself firmly beside her on the pavement. She continues to walk as more of the viscous liquid pours from the sky. She causally bats some off of her brow as the city goers around her shield themselves from the rain. One man stalks past her, a newspaper over his head protecting him from the bloody downpour. As he passes Quinn she watches him walk away and then notices two children splashing about in the blood as if they were frolicking in normal rain water.

She looks to her right and a dog is briskly shaking off the blood, its velvet drops cascading in sprinkles off his coat.

No one seems to notice the red colored droplets but Quinn. She walks down the street a bit and extends a hand, letting the blood pool and drop from in between her fingertips. Others continue by her, finishing their daily routine but Quinn watches the blood collect in her palm then looks up, a satisfied grin sitting securely on her face.*


She had been stalking him for weeks. She had watched him live his day to day life, each morning another layer of soil on his disgusting truth. She clenched the steering wheel tightly as she pulled up a few blocks away from a house. The lights were on and flush faced children and parents loitered in the front in sheer merriment. She watched him bend to kiss one of his children.

The son of a bitch had children.

She cocked her head curiously to the side as he picked up the smallest of his children, tossing her slightly into the air, she watched the child's face twist with glee. If only she knew who the real man was behind those kisses and bed time stories and promises of battling every monster that dare exit her closet. He could vow until his face turned blue, but he'd never tell her she lived with one, was raised by one…that he was the true creature lurking under bedsides. Come to think of it, he wouldn't be telling anyone.

They took separate cars.

Tonight was the night.

She watched him ruffle his boy's hair and kiss his wife goodnight. Where was the good doctor leaving off too so early? He left his wife and children behind to do what, go home and rest from a hard day's work of saving the world. Perhaps. Perhaps, he was one of the reasons why the world had gone to hell in a hand basket. People…things like him, dredged in shadows, stalking and pouncing when the time was just right.

Like her.

She watched him double back to talk again. It was now or never.


David Barnes considered himself a family man. He couldn't help but stop and catch one final kiss his wife blew from her hand. He had had a few drinks that night but it wouldn't cause him much worry. What he had planned to do tonight tended to have a sobering effect on him. He was playing it cool like he couldn't begin to cut away from the party but inside he was anxious. He was like a smoker on an overseas flight, nerves grinding down raw and damn near willing to jump straight out of the plane for just one hit of nicotine. He kept telling himself this was the last one, the last child he'd harm. He had even gone a month without killing; he had even gone to church.

He rocked behind the steering wheel. Maybe it was something in his gut, maybe it was the ambrosia salad one of his son's friends mother makes, but something felt wrong. The air felt thicker, he felt like something was about to happen and was about to reach for the door handle to exit but soon changed his mind. He had to do this tonight, he wouldn't get another opportunity this perfect in a long time and he had to get this….this…whatever it was out of his system.

He started the car and placed his foot on the brake, when he felt something sharp sting his neck. He yelped and automatically reached for his it, clawing at the cord he found biting into his throat.

"What-what do you want?" David gasped his Adams apple darting in and out of bondage from the ever tightening cord latched around his neck.

"You're causing a scene David." Quinn spoke rationally and calmly into his ear, still keeping her leverage around his throat and remaining out of sight.


"Smile David."

"How-how-how do you know my name?"

"We'll have plenty of time to exchange pleasantries David; right now I need you to smile."

He clutched at his throat his wild and terrified eyes landing on his wife. She looked confused and he tried to signal with his eyes that something was wrong.

"Smile." Quinn said as she tightened the cord around his neck and felt the last of his oxygen supply rip itself from his throat with a gargle.

Despite the noose forming around his jugular he managed a smile and a wave and watched as his wife shooed him away from the party. She didn't notice the look of pure peril in his eyes.

Quinn shifted up and slightly loosened her hold on him.


David pulled off and thought back to what he learned from the television shows. Most criminals wanted to remain in charge, check, the cord around his neck let him know this person already felt secure in that. Bargaining, that's what he'd have to try.


Quinn remained silent her jaw tight and her eyes and hands never losing focus on the task. This man was meant for murder, she could probably carry a conversation better with his corpse anyways. She kind of preferred talking to the dead, they were good listeners.

"I've got, I've got plenty. I can give you anything you want…"

David's bargaining chip was removed from the table with one quick tug on the wire snagged around his throat.

"I don't want your money David. Make a right." She said coolly. They were getting closer. She had put a lot of time into this one; he had to be just right.

"Where are you taking me?" David said tears breaking his voice. "Please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Quinn said in amusement.


"Good David. Very good." She loosened the cord. She felt his thick shoulders slacken. She noticed his sharp intake of breath and his posture relax. He felt safe. Good. She needed him relaxed for what was to come. "Stop here."

David pulled into the dark industrial area and placed his car in park. He killed the lights, blanketing them in the darkness.

Quinn removed the cord from his throat slowly and he nearly fell over himself. He thanked her and God and even baby Jesus.

"Don't move David."

"Aren't you letting me go…" His lip trembled as the panic set back in. "…please…please."

She slowly stood from the back seat walking around the passenger door of the car. His tears didn't affect her, the same stoic look on her face never shifted.

"Maam', have a heart….I've got kids…"

That son of a bitch. Did he really try to use his children as a defense? He was foolish and thought since she was a woman he could play her emotions against her. Quinn had never cried in her entire life. Not one single tear. She didn't even cry when her mother died, or her father. Things lived, and things died. The end.

"I can be better…I can…"

She had heard enough. A grown man sniveling and crying for his life, let alone any person was pathetic. Why keep the life. The life we humans take for granted every day. We poison it with unhealthy foods, alcohol, cigarettes and everything else under the sun but when someone puts a gun to our heads it's time for epiphanies. Only when death is imminent do we humans begin to care, when the sad truth is we kill ourselves just a little bit more every day. If you asked her she'd prefer quickly and clean over any of it any day.

She cut off his latest plea with a swift prick of a syringe in his shoulder. He tried to grip her hand but was out in mere seconds. She held the needle up and then looked back down at her victim. M99, Etorphine Hydrochloride, whatever you wanted to call it, worked very quickly and very well. The right dosage could lay a 500 pound male on his backside before he could bat an eyelash. It came in handy and played in nicely into her whole setup. She needed time after all, to prepare these things. Years of practice and near meticulous behaviors made her ritual both foolproof and satisfying.

She removed the all black Isotoner gloves from her back pocket and placed them on each hand, flexing them slightly. She paused to admire the fact that she had been using the same pair for years and still didn't need a replacement. And they say Americans can't make products that last. She pushed the sleeves of her black Henley shirt up to her elbows and smoothed out her shortly cropped blonde ponytail. Her fitted dark green cargo pants and all black casual tennis shoe added another layer of stealth to her night time occupation.

Using the same chord she captured him with earlier, she hooked it around his neck and began to drag his lifeless body towards the abandoned building they had driven too. She tugged a few times but soon his limber body matched her backwards momentum. She paused a moment more and surveyed the night.

It was time.

The last part of David this world would see was his shiny penny loafers banking off the door as it shut him inside the abandoned building, forever.



David took in a ragged breath. They always reminded her of the beginning of Herman the Munster's laugh. Quinn removed the Ammonia capsule from under his nose and watched his blurry eyes come into view. It was only a moment before his tears began to flow.

She watched him struggle for a moment. He stretched and bent the saran wrap around him all the while pleading for release. Her expression never changed as she walked over to a wall and flicked a switch. A grainy hue filled the room as three bodies came into focus. They were all male, cleaned but badly decomposing and bruised. The sight of this would stir some to vomit. To put it lightly, she didn't have a weak stomach. You couldn't for her line of work.

She walked over to the bodies and watched as the crying man's eyes shifted into disbelief.

"The third one was sloppy." She said readjusting one of the limbs. "It was hard to put him back together…you had fun with him…" Her killer hazel eyes fixed on his and caused him to look away.

"What is this…what is this…"

"You know what this is David. These are your victims."

"I am a good man…"

"Bullshit." She spat. It was getting harder and harder not to plunge one of the perfectly sharpened knives on the tray beside him into his heart. She remembered her lessons. Discipline…discipline, discipline. "They were so young…tell me…did you violate them before or after you killed them?"

"I never killed anyone!"

"A trusted physician, a loving father and…murderer. Did you think of your children when you hacked them to bits? Did you think of their families loss when you took them over and over and over again, for your own satisfaction?"

"I never meant to hurt anyone…" His outrage had downturned into regret.

It was far too late for that shit.

"David…" She said as she spread her arms in front of the bodies. "…these are your crimes. What do you think a fitting punishment should be for a man who would use his stature, use his title and use his standing in a community to commit such vile and heinous acts?"

"It was a-a mistake…it just happened."

"Murder doesn't just happen. Every murder is calculated…whether it be planned for 2 months, 2 hours or 2 minutes…every murder is premeditated. Did you stalk them David? Did it get you off to watch the life leave their eyes? It was the kill wasn't it?"

He had given up on pleading and instead chose to remain silent, his jaw tight. He had surrendered. David knew he wasn't leaving this room alive tonight. His acceptance would soon change once he found out what she had in store.

"It was the big, fat kill. And to prove you're even less of a man than I know you to be, you had to act on weaker prey. See me…I kill them all. All shapes, all sizes, all races…I kill David."

She turned back to the bodies. "You butcher. I'm disappointed in a way…murder should never be taken lightly. Murder should be…" She ran hand over one of the body's faces. "…delicate." She finished finding his eyes again. "You don't like that do you…being called a murderer? Well that what you are David. You're a murderer and looking at this job…you give murderers a bad name."

She was winding down; it was time to get to the best part. She walked back over to the wall and hit another switch. The lighting in the room grew and David's eyes shifted wildly as he noticed the entire room was covered from ground to ceiling in rubber sheets and paint liners. Quinn placed on an apron and removed her black gloves, donning latex ones in their stead. She put the last one on with a snap and the man stiffened on the table before her.

She took a scalpel and ran it along his cheek, digging a little deeper because she hated sloppy killers…and perverts. He screamed in agony as she finished the slice, collecting a few droplets in between a microscope slide. She smashed the slide closed and watched as his blood spread for her. She held it up to the light marveling as his life force glistened in the harsh beams. She placed the slide to the side and put on a welders hat, sliding the mask down over her face.

"You think this makes you better than me! Huh?"

She liked it better when he was silent or screaming. His voice now sounded like a vain attempt at self glorification. She was in no mood to be preached to.

"You're just like me! Hiding behind all this." He tried to gesture but the restraints kept it from fully forming. "Who are you to judge me? Who are you to take my life for theirs?"

Quinn almost managed a smirk when she reached for her hunting knife. It was her favorite, a gut hook that could split a hair and cause some major internal damage. She wanted him to bleed slow and witness what other vile things she had in store. Witness the carnage, feel the fear those young men had felt. Then she could watch the blood flow, slowly and even.

"You're no better than me damnit! You're no better than me you self righteous bitch!"

Shame. These should not be someone's last words. If only his family could be here, she could only imagine the words etched out on his head stone. Here lies David; he died at the hands of a self righteous bitch.

"You're right David…" She said her steely eyes shimmering from the small window of the welders mask. She raised the knife above his stomach and paused. "...I'm not." She plunged the knife into his stomach, grinding down deeper and then jerking back so the knife could snag whatever meat lay inside him.

His scream shattered the silence in between the first cut and her head lulled at the sound. He continued to scream as she picked up a small hatchet and walked down the length of the table until she got near his crotch. She slowly sliced the saran wrap just enough to expose his member. He cried for her to stop but it was too late, she had already half way severed his penis, balls and all. Instead of finishing off the cut, she tore the member the rest of the way from his body and stepped back. His cries were weaker now, his voice caught in the flow of blood from his mouth. His crotched pooled with blood but he was still alive.


After carelessly tossing his member to the covered floor she walked back over to the knife pulling it unmercifully from his stomach, his gore still attached to the hook.

And how the blood flowed.

She stepped back and watched his body convulse, watched him kick and sputter blood. The way his body creaked, the tiny droplets of blood that leapt from his body. It was like a fireworks display, only there was not gleaming of sparks in her eyes, only the reflection of blood. It was beautiful.

She walked near his head and removed the mask and casually watched as his eyes went lazy, then slack, then they edged over into death.


Clean up was easy to her. She has cut off his arms, legs and severed his torso. After clearing away all the wrappings in the room and stuffing them into neatly packed garbage bags she took a moment to survey the scene, not a drop in sight, she had truly mastered her craft. She loaded up the hefty bags into her truck and headed for disposal all the while humming that clean up song from Barney. Clean up, clean up everybody everywhere. Clean up, clean up, everybody do their share. Crazy right? She couldn't help it, her best friend Brittany had made her recite it religiously when they were school girls. So it always drifted into her mind when she had to dispose of her latest victim.

After hauling every bit of the scene into her truck she headed towards the Miami docks. There her boat was waiting for her. It was a gift from her father and if he were alive he'd approve of the use of it. She stood in front of the 284 mako her hand on her hips. She took a moment to read the side of the boat. Ann Teak. Her dad said it was punny. She thought it was a sturdy name; she felt like the name itself would make it grow old with her. Minus a few hundred dollars for upkeep and mechanics, it had.

She hoisted several bags on to the boat and then climbed on board herself, starting her up and jetting off into the night. It was still refreshing to her, the smell of the water, wind whipping her face. It was always quiet this time of night so it was her, the boat engine and the slight fluttering of hefty bags against the wind.

She drove a huge distance in and began to drop the body bags, one by one. The current would take them once again leaving the victims untraceable. No links, no ties, no mistakes. Her motto. She was a very neat monster after all. She always kept in mind that no one was perfect, everyone made mistakes and it was in her best interest to make as little as possible, or else she'd be up river and not in a body bag.

After dumping the last body, sealing David's and his victim's fate forever, she glided off into the night. His family would mourn him, for all the wrong reasons. They'd miss the father, the husband and the caregiver, the world however; would miss a cruel and evil killer. She could sleep knowing that. He was a killer make no mistake about it. She was always careful with her research. No false convictions, no lazy truths. One false move and she'd kill a innocent. She'd would never kill an innocent, never. It was part of the code.