And if you've been mislead

surprise ray actually does have a mobile or he's had one but doesn't ... share it...

2010-06-17T09:26:55Z

[There's a brief silence before:]

What do you want, Chris?

[And then a beep.]

(OOC: yeah awesome. i can't remember how he even got it but I bet I can blame handy.)

gotitwrong @ 2010-05-12T20:34:00

2010-05-13T00:34:38Z

COMM: break in
VERSE: canon
WORD COUNT: 841

It was something he learned as a kid.

Ray stalked around the car, tapping his knuckles on the hood and roof as he passed them by. He hadn't had reason to do this often - he usually hotwired his own car when he lost his keys, or in very, very rare cases, hotwiring the Cortina because Gene was somewhere without it, and the call had come in to get the hell where Gene was. Employing that little used, but well honed talent, on something other than the Guv's car and his piece of shit one was a right treat.

He stopped at the driver's side door and jiggled the handle to no avail. He smiled to himself. Getting to smash in a window was always fun to do, and he removed his jacket to wind it around his elbow. Windows never broke in movies, Ray knew that, but he also knew how to break them. Ray aimed his elbow at one spot in his window, pulled it back, then slammed it down with all the force he could muster.

Pain spiked up his arm, but the glass cracked and began to give. Ray gave it one last smash and the window collapsed in, little bits and pieces folding inwards like some weird sheet. He stuck his hand in and yanked open the door. He brushed his hand across the seat and flopped in without much care. It was just a matter of getting things open to get at the wire, and that was a piece of cake.

Plus, he came prepared. All he needed was a screwdriver, and bam, it was open, providing him access to all the wires he needed. He tapped the ashes of his fag out the broken window, cracked his fingers, and got to the delicate work of hotwiring. A wire here, one crossed there. All and all it was confusing work for anyone who didn't know jack shit about cars and theft.

"Carling? What're you up to?"

Ray lifted his head up calmly, and flashed a smooth, guilt-free smile at the man. "Just messin' around, Tony. Figured you weren't usin' this junker for anythin', and it were me day off."

Tony sat down on the hood and smirked. "Thought you weren't into that anymore."

He crossed another wire and the engine roared to life. "Nah. Still into it, just can't do it. Guv'd have my head if I went 'round stealing cars." Ray slid back out of the car to speak to the man face to face.

Tony was a dark haired, wiry, shady sort of bloke dressed in grease covered overalls. He owned the car, he owned the other cars around the lot, and worked as a mechanic as a hobby. The man clapped Ray on his shoulder and tried to lift Ray's cigarettes off him with his other hand. Before he cleaned up his act, Ray remembered, he was an ace pickpocket. Ray stole cars, and Tony stole wallets.

"You coulda told me you were coming to visit," Tony said as he removed both his hands, Ray's pack of cigs in one of them. "I could have done something about that piece of shit you drive."

Ray laughed and snatched his pack from Tony's hand. "Yeah, maybe. But I wasn't really gonna make it a social visit." He tapped two cigarettes out and passed one to his old mate. "Just needed to see if I could still do it on sommat other than my car."

"Oh, so you were gonna make me out like the poor folks you used to steal from, eh?" He snatched the cig from his hand and produced Ray's lighter from apparently nowhere, causing Ray's ire to rise a bit. "I'm hurt, Carling. I thought we were mates."

"I think you're bein' a bit of a hypocrite, Tony," Ray said, taking his lighter back. "Your motor's still here. And I'm the one havin' to get my stuff back."

Tony took a deep drag. "So where's the kid what runs with you now? That Skelton bloke."

Ray shrugged. "Visitin' his mum."

"Momma's boy, huh? Sounds like a shite excuse for a copper."

His smile went from something amiable to something almost more sinister, just a bit more disturbed. "You insult him, you insult me, Tony. I'd watch your tongue if I were you."

"Hey, hey, no offense meant, Carling. I were just sayin'-"

"What you were sayin' is 'I'm a twonk who never learned to shut his bloody mouth'." Tony held his hands up in surrender, and Ray let it go, tossing his old fag to the ground and replacing it with the one he had tapped out only moments before. "How much to replace the window?"

Tony shrugged. "Don't worry 'bout it. S'just a window."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Ain't gonna cause me a problem."

Ray grinned and slung his arm around Tony. "How 'bout we get out of here and have us some fun? Almost like old times."

Tony tilted his head to the side, then nodded. "Like old times."

gotitwrong @ 2010-05-09T06:00:00

2010-05-09T10:00:12Z

COMM: n/a
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 622

It was 1975.

Sam Tyler was still DI. Ray Carling was DS. Things had smoothed out between them, and CID was more or less a sort of family. Sort of dysfunctional, but a family. It had been one of those days, too. The case was rough, and Tyler was being a right prat about something or other. Ray spent the time grumbling to Chris about how if he were DI, there'd be none of this talking malarkey and they'd get straight to business on the case.

But when the day ended, he and Chris headed on home. No night at the Railway Arms this time; the Boss had gotten the Guv in a sour mood and Ray didn't fancy being on the bad end of Gene being frustrated over something Sam did. It were bad enough that he had gone and forgotten about the Plane and what all that went on.

Ray didn't like the idea of keeping his mouth shut about it. It wasn't something they were supposed to do - keep their mouth shut - but Ray had just come to a silent conclusion that if Tyler had off and forgotten about it, and refused to remember despite being reminded, it might've been for the best. That was one point Ray kept himself from latching onto like a rabid dog. Some things were better left alone.

He had resigned to his bedroom, not for the night, but just for a quick clear of his head and to take the medication he had been given by Sid. Chris would hound him all night if he didn't, especially since they weren't right pissed. Couldn't take them when drunk, so he usually found himself only taking half (at best) of what he was supposed to.

In one of the other rooms of the flat, he could hear the sound of Sandwich (which was a terrible name for a cat, so he called her Sandy) running at full tilt. The louder thumping noises behind him, he guessed were Chris doing a very animated and exaggerated run after the cat.

For a moment, he closed his eyes. Chris had moved in full time only a short while ago, and Ray had up and decided to move to a different flat. He had reasons, one of the being he was tired of Chris hogging up his couch all the time. Another was that he had a niggling suspicion if anybody found that Chris were living with him official like and there was only the one bedroom, he'd be called a poof or some shit like that. It was one thing for a bloke to be staying on your couch for a while. It was another for a bloke to be living with you and on the couch.

He sat down on his bed and had just removed his suit jacket when a furry blur darted into his room. Sandy leapt onto the bed, onto his shoulder, digging her claws in, then leapt onto the opposite floor. Chris appeared in the doorway moments later, hair tousled and a wide, gleeful smile on his face. He posed as if ready to dart in any direction.

Ray couldn't help but grin a bit, especially as Sandy arched her back at Chris, fur standing out all on end. Chris started at her, trying to provoke her into running. The cat shot straight up as if she were on a trampoline, and as soon as she landed, bolted faster than any criminal he'd seen in his life. She dashed between Chris' legs and disappeared out of view - and Chris chased after.

He popped the two pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them.

Things hadn't turned out so bad after all.

gotitwrong @ 2009-08-27T02:56:00

2009-08-27T07:41:22Z

COMM: justprompts - Fight
VERSE: canon
WORD COUNT: 600
NOTE: blahblah shit set during when Ray was younger because I feel like it

The kid went tumbling down onto the dirt and the gravel. Any sound his fall might have made was drowned out by the sound of teenage boys taunting and jeering at him. The boy who had sent him down - younger than most of the other boys with him, by a scant few years - stood over him with a smirk.

Ray always did love kicking the shit out of people. He didn't have much problem with the kid whose nose he had just broken, but, hey, when an opportunity presented itself, he wasn't the sort to back down. Especially when the rest of the gang was around. Really, having them there only spurred him on. There was an added rush to having people cheering for you, for people encouraging violence, for people wanting you to bust some bastard's face in.

"Come on, Ray," one of the boys - Nicholas, who preferred to be called Nick - said. "Show him what for!"

He wasn't going to let them down. The boy, who Ray was certain was named Will or Bill or something, was trying to get back up in his feet; but Ray put a quick stop to that with a quick stomp-like movement placed right on his back, meant to pin the kid back onto the gravel. Bill (or Will, whichever it was) went down with a cry, and the group let out a raucous whoop.

Immediately after, Ray kicked the kid in the side, hoping he might break a rib. That would be something to brag about. Anyone could bust somebody's nose, but breaking a rib, that was something else. He wasn't sure if he heard a crack or not, so he gave it another kick for good measure. If it didn't break, ah, well. No big loss.

Bill (Ray started to lean towards using that, pretty sure it was the right name) cried out again and began to cry, his breathing laboured with coughing and sputtering from the pain of the stomp and the two hard kicks; not to mention the assortment of punches he had been subjected to prior.

"Get the hell up, you sodding little faerie." Ray's smirk turned into a disdainful sneer. If the fight was going to turn into him versus some crying little girl, then there'd be no more fun in it. Granted, he could mock Bill for it, but it didn't have the same reward as kicking him in.

Bill didn't get up.

"You hear me?"

The crying quieted, replaced by rapid breathing with the occasional sniffle.

"I said get the hell up!" Ray moved to kick again, but felt a firm hand on his shoulder and halted. He short a glare back to whoever was only loosely restraining him.

The hand belonged to the makeshift leader of their group - a tall, lanky, dark haired teen named Terry. "Enough, Ray. You already beat the shit out of him, you ain't gonna get much more fight now."

Ray's shoulders slumped, and he stepped back. If Terry told him stop, he stopped. He sure as hell didn't want to, but he knew better than to challenge the bloke in charge. Besides, Terry was right. Bill wasn't going to give him much more of a fight no matter how long he taunted and teased him.

"Fine. Whatever you want, Terry." With that said, he stepped away from the main group, which was already beginning to dissipate a bit. Ray glanced around for Nick. He felt in need of a damn smoke, and like hell was he going to wait until later for it.

gotitwrong @ 2009-06-11T02:30:00

2009-06-11T06:32:39Z

COMM: justprompts - Lost
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 713

Ever since things had gone right to hell, Ray had been even rougher on the people he knocked around. He never said why, never made any mention of anything, but it was plain to see that he put more force in his punches, in his strangleholds, in his restraints. He seemed just barely on the verge of snapping and doing permanent damage to whatever poor sod found himself on the receiving end - and Ray knew it.

The bloke who was now sporting a broken nose was starting to realise it a bit as well. It wasn't an interrogation, and the violence that Ray was using was uncalled for, but he didn't particularly care. The man had pissed him the hell off, and Ray was going to do whatever he felt like, especially if it meant turning the man's face into a bloody pulp. He didn't even know the man's name. It wasn't important. Not nearly as important as throwing an arm up to block a punch, then using his other to send a blow to the gut back to his opponent.

The man doubled over, and Ray grabbed him by his shoulders then proceeded to yank him upright. Ray took only a moment to look the man in the eyes before he smashed his head against his victim's. The shock and pain tore through his skull, but he ignored it as he threw the man to the ground seconds after.

Ray managed to get a few kicks in before someone dragged him away; he was sorely tempted to start being the shit out of them as well, but decided against it. His hands were already a bit sore, and his head was aching. He was better off calling it quits for now - if he felt like continuing, he was pretty sure he could find both of them to finish the job.

* * *

He was still brimming with the need to hit something when he got home. He slammed the door behind him, which was enough to snap Chris (who was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall) out of his stupor. Ray didn't pay him any mind and ignored the curious stare and simply stalked by, headed off to his room.

Ray stood directly facing the wall and drew back his fist. With one quick motion, he slammed it into where he knew there was a stud, and was rewarded with the painful shock of flesh, muscle, and bone against a good, solid wall. He drew his fist back, and hit it again. Again. Again. Eventually, the pain started to fade away as it was replaced with adrenaline, and all he focused on was the hard sound of his blows hitting the wall.

He didn't want to think about things. It was nicer to just indulge in violence. Thinking about it made him feel weaker, like something had been taken from him, though he couldn't pinpoint what exactly. Thinking about it meant-

He smashed his hand into the wall again, leaving a small smear of black.

What the hell did it mean, anyway? If he thought about it, was he admitting he was weak? Because shit, he knew he wasn't. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't as if he had any way of-

Ray threw his fist again and fixed his eyes on the growing smear of black. It didn't look like blood - blood was red, blood flowed differently, blood smeared on walls differently, he wasn't bleeding. It reminded him more of motor oil than anything else; motor oil some queer tossed glitter in or something.

He seethed through his teeth and continued with the assault. Ray picked up the speed, turning his stuttering blows into a furious staccato, and with each hit the black on the wall spread. It wasn't blood; he was fine. His hands felt the thud and the dampness, but none of it came together to register that he was bleeding.

"...Ray?"

Ray stiffened at Chris' voice, but didn't turn. Neither did he throw his fist again, holding it back for now. His reply was half snarled. "What?"

"You... okay? I were just... well- I were just wonderin', 'cause you didn't say anythin', then-"

"'m fine. Nothin' you need to worry 'bout."

gotitwrong @ 2009-05-20T16:08:00

2009-05-20T21:25:14Z

CID
not exactly 'family' but might as well be

	theguv Ray has known Gene for some odd twenty years and served under him for just as long. The amount of respect and admiration for Gene that Ray has is literally without end, and Ray will do anything - anything - to please his guv. Whether it was jump off a bridge or if somehow Gene went nuts and ordered Ray to kill a man, he would do it without hesitation. Being Gene's loyal attack dog seems to be one of Ray's goals in life, and one he strives to do with utmost perfection.
	knowswheregodis Ray's memories about Chris' first few weeks within CID may be a bit muddled (he remembers it being just a few years ago but at times it seems much longer) but he knows one thing - from the first time he met Chris, he took a shine to the lad. Ray became friends with Chris faster than he had anyone else, and since then, the two of them have been attached at the hip. Though their personalities are different and interests somewhat varied, they make an excellent team. Ray's possessiveness of Chris is often taken to extremes as he carefully sabotages Chris' relationships with women, and his defensiveness of the lad is a steady constant. To say that Ray would take a bullet for Chris is underestimating it by massive extremes.
	Annie Cartwright Originally, Ray just viewed Annie as an attractive plonk to flirt with now and then. With her having become a WDC and part of the team officially instead of just wandering into their cases, he's accepted her as one of the boys, so to speak. He still acts in his typical demeanour, but he counts her as a friend of his, even if his sexism and attitude don't exactly show it.
	didorothy Sam Tyler always has and always will be a thorn in Ray's side. Between taking the DI spot that Ray wanted, then shaking up the 'stability' in CID that Ray established for himself, Sam never really had a chance to get on well with him. Their methods of policing are at odds and while Ray has finally accepted Sam as part of the team, he always resents him, just a bit, for trying to take away what he thought of as his - which doesn't necessarily mean the position as DI, so much as the good friendship he had with Gene and the closeness he has with Chris. Ray doesn't harbour any true hatred for Sam anymore, but has instead decided to view him as an almost equal rival.

FRIENDS
oh my god, ray is capable of friendship, what?

handysparehand
James (or is it Thomas?) is one of Ray's few and closest friends on the Plane. He counts the man as a best mate and enjoys his company, even though to start with he didn't make a very good impression. Since then, he's been perfectly in line and he, along with Chris, spend a fair share of time hanging out where they're usually watching movies or playing video games. While Thomas (or James, whichever) is from the future, much like Sam, Ray tolerates it a lot better. Mainly because he isn't an annoying prat about it.

madamemoiselle
If you ask Ray, he'll mention he's friends with Diva, to some degree. What he won't mention is that he feels almost intimidated. After all, he's only human and she's a regenerating vampire who has murdered dozens of people. So Ray does his best to avoid offending her and keep up an appearance of friendliness to avoid being added to her substantial kill number. Better to be alive and with shady ties than to be dead entirely.

ACQUAINTANCES
completely empty until i go over all his entries

ENEMIES
killing you isn't murder

	demnify Ray still wants the Master to die. No one is surprised.
	savagestime Ray has never met this Master, but he knows he exists and looks like Tyler. Ray wants him dead too, just for good measure.

gotitwrong @ 2009-05-10T04:59:00

2009-05-10T09:01:03Z

COMM: justprompts - Appearances can be deceiving.
VERSE: open
WORD COUNT: 10324
NOTE: Part 1 of ??. For Kisha (I promise it'll end up with Ray/Chris someday.)

The heater whined and groaned from use. Ray was only slightly surprised that smoke didn't ease its way from the vents; the heater was in enough disrepair that smoke seemed like a perfectly normal thing. He almost chuckled to himself over the idea that smoke accompanied fire, and that fire was likely how the whole thing worked anyway. He hadn't been able to repair it despite attempts, so fire made as much sense as anything else.

Chris was semi-curled up in the passenger side seat, dead asleep. He had been out for a good hour, too tired to keep awake for the rest of the drive. Ray didn't mind. He had gotten to sleep earlier, a brief kip while Chris had the wheel - only woken in the brief moments where some random thing had gotten Chris nervous and he had jerked the car enough to disturb Ray from his sleep. If it wasn't for the fact it was Chris, he would have chewed the div's head off and given him a smack upside the head.

Ray reached out to the heater and twisted it up a bit more. He had thought he saw Chris shiver, and while he wasn't particularly cold, he didn't want to leave the younger man uncomfortably cold. It had nothing to do with treating him special, he told himself. It was just being decent to his closest mate. That was all.

They were still a good hour or two outside of Manchester. Damn if he was going to make another trip like this for any reason again. Two days out of the city and then drives that took hours to do? Just the once was enough for him. Besides, he had had enough of travelling when he was a lad and in the army. But he had been roped into it. Never again, though. Ray was sure about that.

Another fifteen minutes had passed before he pulled his car over on the side of the road and given Chris a whack on the shoulder. Chris grunted and curled up further in response.

"'m takin' a leak," Ray said while opening the door. "Back in a jiff."

Chris opened a bleary eye and nodded before closing it again, drifting back off into sleep.

* * *

Ray figured it had to be three AM when they pulled up to his flat. The lights in his car weren't working (not much was, though), so he hadn't taken a look to check. Still, it felt like it was later than midnight, but it wasn't quite bright enough to be morning. If he and Chris were lucky, they'd be able to get in a few hours of sleep before work. They'd be tired, but it'd be better than nothing.

"Chris." Ray turned off the heater. "You're stayin' at my place tonight. Ain't up for drivin' out to your mum and dad's to drop you off."

When Chris didn't reply, Ray just shook his head. He could leave him out in the car, let him sleep there, but it was a mite cold and he didn't feel like listening to any whining in a few days about how Chris had come down sick. Yanking the keys out of the ignition, he resigned himself to the fate of having to escort the younger man into his place and got out of the car.

It was easier done than said, by all accounts. He simply opened the passenger side door, slipped an arm around his friend's torso, and dragged him out. A kick to the door closed it, and he went about his way to his place, trying not to let Chris fall in the process.

"Hnnn...?" Chris articulated spectacularly - or rather, did not.

"You heard me."

"Oh. ...'kay."

Ray fumbled for a minute at his door, trying to balance keeping Chris up while unlocking his door. He'd only done it a few times - usually while pissed - so attempting it while sober was a much different and more difficult task. After a few failed tries, he had the door open. And once again he closed it with a good kick. He wouldn't bother locking it while he was home. He was too confident to do so.

He yawned. God, it would be nice to get into bed and get proper sleep. Chris might've been able to sleep anywhere, but he couldn't. And while he was thinking of Chris, he unceremoniously dumped the man on the couch, intent on letting him get comfy on his own. Chris seemed content to remain where he had been left, and so Ray stumbled off to collapse into his own bed. He didn't even bother taking off his shirt.

* * *

"Shit!"

He had overslept. Thirty minutes, an hour, somewhere in between; it didn't really matter how much it was so much by the fact he had overslept. He hadn't done that in a while. "Chris! Get your arse off the couch and into sommat!"

There was a faint rumble of movement and Ray figured that Chris had heard his yell, and was getting his shit into gear. Chris didn't have any spare clothes with him, though Ray thought he might've had a spare shirt of his in the closet. He'd check while rummaging through for another pair of trousers, he decided as he yanked his current pair off. A quick stumble to the closet and a cursory glance through gained him a set of trousers, a shirt, a set of trousers that he figured would fit Chris, and one of Chris' shirts he left behind one of the times he had stayed there.

Ray yanked up his trousers when he walked into the living room. Chris was sitting up on the couch, half asleep, and Ray threw the clothes at him. "Put 'em on. We gotta go." With that said, he pulled off his old shirt and put on a new one, buttoning it up as quick as he could.

From the corner of his eye, Ray could see Chris undo his trousers, slip his thumbs under the band. He focused on putting on his tie. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it before from the other times Chris had stayed with him. In fact, the sight was borderline common, but he never felt right acknowledging it. It was easier to just focus on something else while Chris yanked up the pair of trousers Ray had fetched for him.

When they had both changed, they went on their way to work.

* * *

He had seen enough murders in his time to where his stomach no longer churned - if it ever had. Ray just registered it as just a thing; the blood and the gore just splashes of colour and chunks of meat. He gave Chris a quick glance to make sure he wasn't on the verge of throwing up his lunch, and was pleased with the barely-managed attempt at stoicism. If anything, Chris was learning how to shut off his emotions on a temporary basis. It was a good start.

"Damn, Ray," Chris said quietly. "Went to town on her, didn't he?"

Ray crouched down near the body, trying to get a closer look at the cuts and slashes. From the look of it, whoever had done it had taken his time, making each wound with precision. He knew professional killings - executions, hits and the like - but this was a different sort of professionalism. He shook his head. Whoever did it was a sick bastard, regardless of what kind of method he went about it.

"Aye." He looked up at Chris, and gestured for him to crouch down with him. Chris obliged. "You see how he went about cuttin' her up?"

"Yeah?"

"Methodical, like. Weren't just some bloke jumpin' out at a skirt to rape her and she struggled."

Chris furrowed his brows and sucked in inside of his cheek in thought. "So he had her, then?"

Ray glanced over at him. "Think so. Might've done the cuttin' somewhere else, then left her here to bleed to death." He thought he saw Chris shudder when he said it, but chose to say nothing about it. It wasn't any of his concern if Chris was bothered by it or not.

"Why? I mean, if he had her somewhere, why bring her out here? Why not, like... I dunno, keep it?"

"Maybe he didn't want some dead bird stinkin' up his basement." He rolled his eyes. "How'm I supposed to know? Ain't like we even got an idea what the bloke is like."

Chris pulled his pen from his pocket and began poking at the body with it. "Maybe somebody good with knives?"

Ray cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Like a butcher, yeah? Or maybe a doctor."

"Maybe."

With Chris still poking at the body, Ray stood straight back up, glancing around the area. She hadn't been there long, and if she had been dumped in the area, somebody might've seen a motor or a suspicious looking bloke. A canvas of the neighborhood would hopefully give them a lead or two while forensics picked over the crime scene. He clapped his hand on Chris' shoulder. "Come on."

"Huh?" Chris stared up at him blankly, having been disturbed from his body poking.

"Somebody might've seen somethin'."

He could practically see the lights going on in Chris' head as he surged to his feet.

* * *

They made a perfect team while gathering information. Ray would turn on the charm whenever he needed to (or just shoved a potential witness around), while Chris offered an honest and sincere approach. If one of them wasn't working, they switched and let the other take control of the situation, and it worked like a dream.

But the dream team either wasn't on their best game, or there were almost no witnesses. They'd canvased most of the area to no avail, and only when they were about to call it a day did they manage to get some sort of information.

2:30 PM, an older man named Thomas Brown had seen a man in a dark car skirting about the area. He hadn't seen the body being dumped, but he found it a mite suspicious that the fellow had circled the block some five times before seeming to have gone on his way. It wasn't much to go on, but it was better than nothing.

2:30 PM and a dark car.

* * *

Ray took a deep drag of his cigarette as he watched Chris trot to the door of his mum and dad's place. He'd be waiting for a few minutes, he figured, as Chris would explain to his mum that he was spending the night at Ray's again, and how he just needed another set of clothes. Long enough to finish off a fag and maybe find something playing on the radio, if he was lucky. He needed something to take his mind off the fact that there was a dead woman and the only lead he had was a time and a general description of a car. It didn't help that he had this nagging feeling at the back of his head that it wouldn't be the only body to turn up.

If it had been some sloppy handiwork, he would have writ it off as just an impassioned crime, something spur of the moment and unplanned. But that precision... that precision just screamed about it being planned - and if there was one thing he knew about killers, it was that if they take the time to do planning, they'll kill again, without doubt.

Part of him was content to just let that happen. Sure, it wasn't a good thing, women being killed, but with each body dumped off somewhere, there would eventually be another witness or two. A make and model of a car. Maybe somebody getting a good look at his face. Hell, a license plate number. He'd do the killings himself, he thought, if it'd net any of those things. But he shook the thought from his head.

He may have killed before, but he never planned it. It was usually series of accidents, or just shooting a suspect in the wrong spot. He wasn't a murderer, and didn't take kindly to thoughts that skirted the edge of planned killings. Ray flicked the radio on and quickly moved the dial about, trying to find something other than static. When he finally found a good rock station, he left it there, and turned the volume up a bit higher than he kept it normally. As long as it was loud enough, he couldn't think over it.

A few more minutes passed before Chris yanked open the passenger side door after a bit of struggle. He tossed his clothes in the backseat and flashed Ray a wide, happy grin. "Mum wanted to know how you were doin'. She thinks you oughta visit a bit more."

Ray flicked his cigarette out the window, then turned down the radio. "I come over plenty."

"Yeah, well, guess it isn't enough."

"Guess so." He put his car into drive and did just that.

* * *

Chris was dead asleep on the couch once again. It had only taken him a few minutes after stripping down to his pants to fall asleep, and for a brief moment, Ray envied Chris' ability to fall asleep so soundly in such a short amount of time. Sure, he could fall asleep quick, but he was often woken up by a bunch of things through the night. If Chris was spending the night, usually the 'bunch of things' became limited to 'Chris'.

Ray tipped back his glass of water, leaning against a counter in his kitchen. He could see Chris, fast asleep, from that spot. One of the man's arms was dangling over the edge, fingers just barely scraping the floor, and one of his legs hung limply over the arm rest. Ray shook his head just slightly at the sight, smiling to himself.

Typical.

* * *

A week had passed with no new leads. He and Chris had exhausted their supply of snouts on their self-appointed mission to try to gain some sort of concrete clue, but nothing had turned up. No rumours about crazy murdering butchers or doctors; not that Ray had been expecting there to be, but- He had still hoped there might've been something. The only good that had come out of it was that their connections would now be on the lookout for something suspicious. A man in a dark car picking up women. Of course, that sounded like at least half the johns in all of Manchester, so the odds of anything coming out of that were unlikely.

But they were monitoring reports of missing persons.

Ray had been half asleep at his desk, having drifted off while trying to think of what they might've overlooked at the scene, when he heard Chris.

"Ray! I might've found thing."

Ray opened a single blue eye to stare at Chris. "What?"

Chris beamed and pushed a file at him. "Missing person's report, just filed a day ago. Looks like that bird what were killed."

He flipped through the report, skimming through the details, before coming to a stop on the photo provided. Smear a bit of blood on her face, maybe carve her up a little, and she'd be a spitting image of the body in the morgue.

"It's her, isn't it?" Chris leaned over to look into the file and at the picture.

"Yeah. Shit."

"'s got her address in it and her family's." He reached into the file and moved some of the papers around until he found the one he wanted. "Maybe they know what she was doing before she disappeared."

Ray handed the file to Chris and removed his feet from the top drawer of his desk. "Or know who she tended to hang with."

* * *

"Mrs. Matheeny? Detective Sergeant Carling."

"Detective Constable Skelton."

"We're here to speak with you about your daughter, Jessica..."

He had done this a hundred other times before. Approaching a family, talking to them, making them comfortable and relaxed, then telling them someone they cared about had been killed. The responses were just as typical, just as scripted. Crying, sobbing, moaning, yelling. It differed just a little between people, but Ray had seen every variation of it that he could guess what type of reaction a person would have. Mrs. Matheeny he pegged as the type to go quiet for a while before slowly crying. She seemed like a strong woman - she would try not to cry in front of the two strangers, the two detectives in her home. But her type always did.

"You've found her already?" Mrs. Matheeny asked.

Chris nervously shifted his weight. "I think you might wanna invite us inside, ma'am."

Ray nodded. "Afraid it isn't good news."

The woman bit her lower lip before pulling the door open fully and gesturing for the two to enter her home. Ray and Chris entered without hesitation, stepping into the living room so as to provide her with the opportunity to sit down if she needed to.

"What's happened?"

Ray glanced over at Chris, then back to Mrs. Matheeny. "We've got a body in the morgue. Looks an awful lot like your daughter. We're gonna hafta ask you to come in and identify her."

"If it's her, we need to ask you a few questions, too," Chris quickly added.

And just as Ray thought, she went silent.

* * *

The morgue was cold enough to where he thought he could see his breath. Just faint wisps, but he was pretty certain it was, indeed, his breath. Chris hunched his shoulders, slightly bothered by the chill, and shoved his hands into his pockets. In front of them was the covered body of Jessica Matheeny, and her mother stood nearby - quiet, afraid, and nervous.

Ray didn't wait for her to build up her internal strength, and simply pulled back the white sheet, revealing the cleaned up body. Without the blood, she was devoid of colour, like every other body he had seen on the slab.

"Is this your daughter, ma'am?" He asked, sparing her only a passing glance.

She nodded solemnly and looked away. Ray dropped the sheet back over the body's face. No further reason to keep it exposed; she was dead and they had their answer, that was that.

"Do you know, uhm, where she was going the day she disappeared?" Chris asked.

Mrs. Matheeny shook her head for a moment, then stopped. "She had called. She said she had met a nice young man... Jacob. He was taking her out that night."

"Think any of her girlfriends might know a bit more 'bout this Jacob bloke?" Ray pulled his cigarettes from his pockets as he spoke.

"Why? Do you think he might've done it?"

"Dunno. But it's worth a look."

She nodded. "Tiffany Alvaro. She and Jessica were inseparable."

* * *

Tiffany Alvaro was a skinny young woman, not much older than 21, with bleached blonde hair. Tight arse with a nice set of tits. If they weren't in the middle of an investigation, and with her as a lead to anything, he'd have hit on her and invited her on a date himself. He was tempted to do it anyway, if only to show off a bit to Chris.

"Now, Miss Alvaro," Ray said, attempting to keep himself vaguely professional despite the fact he was a bit distracted by her chest. "Jessica Matheeny had herself a new bloke, didn't she? Jacob?"

Tiffany popped her gum and twisted a finger in her hair, possibly in thought, but Ray figured she was just some thoughtless skirt. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

"Seein' as she were murdered, I can think of a lot of reasons."

Chris nodded eagerly. "If you know anything, we might be able to find who did it."

She spit her gum out, then stared at her shoes for a few moments before peering up. "She said his name was Jacob Woods. She never said his address or where she met him. I figured that she found him when she was out clubbing, you know? He picked her up and they decided to go out on a few dates. It really seemed that way."

"You're sure it's Jacob Woods?"

Tiffany nodded. "Yeah. She was all mooning over him, wouldn't shut up about it. It was like she had met Prince Charming or something." She scuffed her foot. "So much for Prince Charming, huh?"

* * *

Chris handed him his pint and sat down in a chair at the table. Ray leaned back against the post, blowing smoke into the air. Jacob Woods. A common first name coupled with a common last name. With their luck, he wouldn't have any previous, no files on him with any potential addresses. He didn't fancy having to go through phonebooks looking for addresses of every single Jacob Woods or Jake Woods in the whole of Manchester.

"So, Ray. Got any plans for this weekend?"

"Huh?" Ray blinked himself out of thought and focused on Chris.

"I were just wondering if you were doing anything."

He shrugged. "Dunno. Don't have a date or anythin', if that's what you're meanin'."

Chris smiled at him. "Wanna do sommat, then?"

"Might as well." Ray grabbed his pint and downed it, not bothering to take his time in drinking it. He felt like being drunk and had no intention of taking his sweet time to get to that state. He would've liked to get completely pissed, but he knew he had to drive home - and Chris got pissed after a few pints, so he couldn't turn to him for help there. "Feel like stayin' at my place again tonight, Chris?"

He looked up from intense inspection of his fingernails. "Uh, I suppose. Gonna need a new shirt, though. Don't think I got any left at your flat."

Ray nodded. "We can pick somethin' up on the way. Your mum won't mind- other than me keepin' you from home so much."

Chris laughed. "Yeah. Good thing she likes you, huh?"

"Aye."

* * *

By the time they reached his flat, they were both utterly sloshed. If Ray believed in God, he would have thanked him for making sure he didn't crash into something stupid, like a telephone pole or a pedestrian. For the second - or was it third? Ray wasn't sure - time that week, he was dragging Chris into his place; but 'dragging' was a word equally applicable to himself, as he was barely able to keep his feet. How he managed to remain upright with Chris hanging off him was a mystery, especially to himself.

He stared drunkenly at his current, and quite difficult, task of depositing Chris on the couch. It seemed like an easy concept, at least in theory, but when he tried it, he found himself almost tumbling down with Chris. And Chris was not making it any easier. He was conscious, which meant he was trying to do his own thing, which only served to throw Ray off balance.

While he was attempting to figure out how to get Chris off him, his brain was sidetracked by one loud, overpowering, booze fueled thought. Chris is a div. That seemed to explain everything, and Ray accepted it easily. Chris was, indeed, a div. A drunken div who was trying to fall onto the couch and drag Ray down with him.

Ray snorted, and decided to screw the ordeal with the couch. He would just toss Chris in bed. If he got dragged down there with him, it didn't matter - because, as his brain told him, Chris was a div, and thus the whole situation was moot.

* * *

Come morning, the situation was no longer moot.

Ray never had much problem sleeping with others. Most things woke him up, certainly, but years of inviting women to spend the night with him - or him ending up in some strange woman's bed - had resulted in resistance to that sort of rousing. He hadn't thought twice about the fact someone was in his bed with him, not yet, at least. Ray was still half asleep and feeling the effects of a hangover starting to creep into what consciousness was developing.

The numbness in his arm, the weight of someone partially draped over him, didn't seem as important as the throbbing in his head. He groaned, and then slowly opened his eyes. Ray stared blankly at the ceiling for a few moments before the foggy memories of the night began to return to him.

He and Chris drinking. Not crashing on the way home. Attempting to dump Chris on the couch. Failing at dumping Chris on the couch. Ray stiffened with realisation. It wasn't some bird currently laying on his arm.

It was Chris.

There wasn't a moment of hesitation as he yanked his arm out from under his friend's shoulder. Chris didn't stir, so Ray took the next moment to shove him off entirely, then slip out of bed before anything would be noticed. As far as Chris would know, Ray had slept on the couch.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Ray sat on the couch, glass of water in one hand and pain killers in the other. It was a heavy debate he was caught in, trying to decide whether or not he should take the pills and lessen the pain from the hangover, or let it just go on. If he let it go on, he had something to distract him from the thought of how he had slept in bed with another man. Taking the painkillers meant he had to think about it with no buffer. And it was something he didn't quite want to think about without something to allow him to be removed.

He decided to bite the bullet. Ray popped the pills in his mouth and took a swig of water, then leaned back in the couch, waiting. It would be a bit for the effects to kick in, but there was no harm in trying to will them into effectiveness early. It certainly couldn't make things any worse, and it provided an ample distraction.

From his bedroom, he began to hear the sounds of Chris stirring, and what he thought was the sound of him dragging himself out of bed. Ray hoped Chris had no recollection of the evening, or that he hadn't woken in the middle of the night and realised he had fallen asleep with Ray. Though that thought sent him into wildly different territory.

If Chris had woken up in the night - which he was apt to do - the fact that he was still in bed come morning meant he had gotten back in bed with him. Ray quickly decided he didn't want to think about that.

In fact, he decided that he had never thought about it at all.

* * *

"Chris!" Ray called from his desk, fishing through one of the drawers for his misplaced phonebook.

Chris scurried over, his arms filled with files that were likely from the closest thing they had to a 'W' section in the collator's den. "Got the files, Ray!"

"Good. Grab a chair. You go through those, I'll go through me phone book..." He yanked a drawer out entirely and dumped the contents on the floor. "When I can find it, anyway."

The younger man nodded intently and dragged his chair over to Ray's desk, and dropped the files with a careless flop. Ray shot Chris a pointed look before going back to his rummaging, which finally resulted in a tattered phonebook. He wasn't sure how old it was, but he figured that it would do just as well, even if it was a year or so old. He was pretty sure it wasn't much older than that.

"What do we do if he's not in here?" Chris asked as he opened up a file.

Ray flipped the phone book the the W section. "He'll be in one of these, Chris. Guarantee it."

"Well, if he isn't?"

"He will be."

"Yeah, but-"

"Chris. If he ain't in the files, he'll be in the phone book."

A few page flips brought him to a long list of people with the name Woods, and he frowned in aggitation. Woods, A. wasn't what he needed. A few more page flips, and he had cut things down substantially, to a nice, small little list of Woods, J. Only two were listed as being Jake, but Ray jotted down the rest of the addresses and numbers of whoever had a J initial for a first name.

Chris, across from him, diligently went through files, tossing on the floor whatever didn't meet the required standards of being named Woods, then narrowing it down further to anyone named Jacob or Jake. When he had finished, he had a single file in his hands.

Ray smirked. "Lemme guess. Jacob Woods?"

Chris nodded. "Charged with assault. Got off on it. Weren't enough evidence to make a conviction."

"Hand it here a minute," Ray said as he reached for the file. He wanted to know exactly what the bastard looked like before he got to drag him in.

* * *

Ray parked his car down the street from Jacob Woods' house. It was a nice place from the outside, but the twisted son of a bitch probably had all manner of blood and the like stained into the floor and walls. After all, that was where he cut up Jessica Matheeny. Maybe he even had some girl in there now, bound and gagged, bleeding from the first set of cuts inflicted on her.

It wasn't quite enough to get his blood boiling, but he was excited and spoiling for a fight. He had wanted to burst in as soon as they got to the address, but Chris convinced him to stay his hand. Jacob wasn't home. Busting in the door wouldn't do any good, and even if they hid away, the broken door would've made the bastard flee. Chris may have been nervous and flighty about various things, but he was shaping up to be a good detective- and Ray couldn't help but feel a bit proud at that fact. He chose to ignore that some of Chris' ideas were a result of the Boss's teachings, and decided to credit himself entirely.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Bet he's dumpin' some other girl somewhere. 's why he ain't home."

"Maybe... maybe he just went out to get a sandwich."

Ray glanced over to Chris. "Which means she's in there, right now, and we aren't liftin' a finger to get her out."

Chris frowned and began rubbing his thumb across the top of his hand. Ray only barely acknowledged the nervous gesture, having only seen it a few times before. The fact that the situation didn't sit well with Chris either cooled his head a bit. If he had remained dismissive, he was sure that he would have grown to further agitation. He might've even snapped at him had it continued.

He smacked his hand, palm open, on the steering wheel. "Alright... how 'bout," Ray momentarily trailed off, thinking. "I know how to pick locks. Won't bust in the door, just slip in, see if he's got her in there."

"You know how to pick locks?" Chris asked with an incredulous tone.

"Somethin' I picked up when I were a lad," he said. "But if you keep lookout for anybody comin' down the road, you can give me a holler to get out."

"What if he sees me?"

"Pretend you're just lookin' for your dog or sommat. Got loose and you chased him clear out this way." Ray flashed Chris a confident smirk. "Think you can manage?"

"Yeah. No problem, Ray."

* * *

It had been a while since he had picked any sort of lock. It was just one of those skills he let deteriorate once he became a copper, one of those things you still knew how to do, but it took you a bit to get back in the saddle. He had been lucky enough to find some strong enough wires in the boot of his car, left over from some attempt at fixing a headlight back into place.

He glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure Chris was still looking out anyone coming down the way - and to make sure he wasn't drawing undue suspicion to the both of them. Comforted with the fact Chris was keeping up the appearance of someone looking for a lost animal, or something of that sort, Ray went back to the delicate work of manipulating the wire in the lock to get the door to open.

It took a few tries to get it right; he either bent the wire wrong or twisted it at an angle that wasn't working for the lock for the first few attempts. Once he had it, he smirked, slipping the bent up length of metal into his pocket. Then he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him quietly. He wasn't sure of Jacob Woods had a dog or something set up that would make a lot of noise, but he wasn't up for setting anything off. Or being attacked by some mutt.

His heart pounded in his chest with excitement, and it took all of his control to keep him from smashing a few things, from roughing the place up a bit. He had a job to do, and a self appointed mission to see if he had another victim somewhere in his home. He needed to be quick, though. If Jacob Woods got there while he was, say, upstairs, he would be caught in a hard place to get out of. Ray hadn't exactly planned what to do if such an occurrence happened.

So far, a search of the first floor had revealed nothing, and he hadn't spotted any stairs down to a basement. Odds were that the entrance was outside, in the back of the house. Ray cursed. He probably should have checked there first, but there was no point in going out and back in. He would hit it on the way out; for now, he would head upstairs, make sure there was no one being held there.

He thought he wouldn't find anyone. His next victim, if there even was one, was already dead and dumped somewhere. It wouldn't be too much of a loss. Only two known victims and the perp put away. It was practically a great thing, in Ray's book. Some bastards got away with four, five, six, even more killings before they were finally caught. Two was next to nothing.

Ray was about to check the final room upstairs (the rest having yielded nothing), when he heard the muffled and faint sound of Chris yelling his name.

* * *

Shit.

Ray moved with alacrity, practically leaping down the entire flight of stairs and landing with a heavy and loud thump. He had maybe a minute or two to run to the front door, lock it, then run to the back and make his escape. He couldn't lock that one, but it didn't matter; the front door did. When he reached the front door, he practically slammed into it. He wasted no time in locking it, and as soon as the lock was turned, he sprinted down the hall, going as fast as he could.

Best as he could figure, he had thirty seconds to get out the back door. He was damn glad he had taken the opportunity to scope out the first floor before anything else; he knew exactly where the door was. He came to a skidding stop, wrapped his fingers around the knob, and practically ripped the door off the hinges. Ray slammed it behind him and leapt off the back porch.

His chest heaved with the sudden rush to action, and he crouched down near one of the corners of the house. He could hear the sound of a car's engine dying, hear a door open and close. Ray waited a few moments before peering around the corner. The coast was clear. He couldn't see Chris, but he figured the div had dove for cover, completely forgetting the fact he was supposed to keep up an act. He could forgive him for it; sometimes even he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

Ray crept by Woods' powder blue motor, taking the brief time to get his wind back and pinpoint where, exactly, Chris had gotten off to.

"Chris!" He hissed, glancing to the front door of Jacob Woods' home.

"Ray?" Chris peered his head from around a row of bushes, and Ray smiles just a bit.

"Come on. Woods' is inside."

Chris slunk over, trying to keep low but only managing to look awkward. "Did you find anybody?"

"Nah. But sure as hell, he's guilty. I know it."

* * *

Ray had made a quick call for plod to come by. They hadn't arrested Woods yet, they were now standing at the door, prepared for just about anything. Ray hadn't seen any guns inside of Woods' place, so he figured they wouldn't have to worry about being shot. A bloke like him, who enjoyed carving up young women, would've had the guns on display. There was some psychological crap to it, Ray knew, but that was more Cartwright's thing than his. He just knew that killers like Woods liked to show off, they liked to brag. If there wasn't a gun somewhere he could see, there wasn't one in the whole place. They could take a calm approach, so Chris rapt on the door with his knuckles.

The door opened. Standing in the door way was a young man, Ray guessed around Chris' age, or not much older. He quickly looked the young man over, judging whether or not he'd struggle or give them a hard time. Ray smirked, concluding it wouldn't be much of a fight. The bloke looked built, but he could tell by how he held himself that he was no fighter.

"Jacob Woods?" Chris inquired calmly.

"Yeah?"

Ray's smirk only spread as he grabbed the little prat by the front of his shirt and jerked him out. Oh, he could have been nice about it, but he no longer felt in the mood. "We're arrestin' you on suspicion of the murder of Jessica Matheeny."

He could see Jacob's eyes widen and a look of fear and shock crossed them. The man was guilty as sin. It was plain as day. "No. No, you've got- I didn't do anythin' to her!"

"Shut up!" Ray barked, then gestured with his head to Chris; a quick signal for him to get out his cuffs and arrest him. "You are not obliged to say anythin' unless you wish to do so, anythin' you may say may be taken in evidence."

The sound of cuffs snapping closed was music to his ears.

* * *

He clinked his glass of whisky against Chris'. They had done good. No reports of another body had cropped up, and the perp was safely away in the cells. All in all, they had done spectacularly. The reward of getting pissed was well deserved and just as well earned.

"That's the end of him," Ray said before tipping back his glass of whisky.

"Good thing, too. Didn't think I could stomach seeing another body like that."

He laughed, and lightly shoved Chris on the shoulder. "Gotta get used to it somehow."

Chris pouted. "Well, it don't mean I wanna see it anyway!"

"Scared?"

"No!"

"You are too." Ray smiled and crossed his arms on his chest, taking on an air of 'prove me wrong'.

"I wasn't scared! I've seen worse than that, and you know it, Ray!"

"Aww, am I gonna hafta tell your mum to put out a nightlight for you? Don't want you wakin' up all alone and afraid in the dark..."

Chris protested, but nothing could quite put a damper on Ray's mood. There was, after all, no better way for him to express his affection than with teasing. So he spent the rest of the evening and a fair deal of the night poking at Chris until it was finally closing time, and Nelson chucked them both from the Railway Arms.

* * *

Ray pulled off his trousers and tossed them across his bedroom. He wasn't usually the sort to just toss them anywhere, but he was a bit too drunk to go about putting them in the usual pile. Even though he wasn't as pissed as he was the night before, it just seemed like too much effort when he could simply toss them aside and crawl into bed right at that moment.

Which was exactly what he did, in fact. He was just in the process of getting himself comfortable when he realised something. His bed still faintly smelled like Chris' cologne. Ray groaned in mild annoyance - he had done an amazing job at forgetting he had passed out in bed with him, and now the thought had popped right back in his head. Complete with neon lights and sparklers.

Ray dragged a pillow over his head. He wasn't sure if he was doing it in an attempt to smother himself to avoid ever thinking of it again, or to just put a filter between his nose and the smell of cologne. After all, both seemed like such excellent choices.

* * *

When morning had come, he had once more forgotten all about it. He simply showered, dressed, grabbed breakfast, and stopped by Chris' parents' place to pick up Chris. All and all, it was typical, average, not worth any particular note. And the day at work was shaping up to be similar.

"Hey, Ray?"

Ray had been almost asleep when Chris' voice stirred him, and he opened his blue eyes to stare blankly in his direction. "What?"

"You remember what colour Woods' car was?"

He tilted his head to the side, wondering what, exactly, had prompted that question. "Blue. Why?" He remove his feet from the upper drawer of his desk to sit upright.

Chris looked down into the file in his hands. "Well, uhm, it says here that Thomas Brown? He saw a dark car in the area."

"So?"

"...Nothing. Car was blue, that could be considered dark, specially if it was moving and you're far away, right?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah." Then he paused, for a moment, before continuing. "You aren't thinkin' we got the wrong bloke, are you?"

"Well..."

"Chris. It's him. He were the last one to see Jessica alive, he's got a previous for assault, so he's already got a taste for that sort of thing. The colour of his car don't matter - and even then, 's blue. Blue's dark."

Chris fidgeted, rubbing his thumb across the top of his hand. "Suppose. Guess I'm just thinking too hard."

Ray snorted and his tone was harsh. "Yeah. You are." With that said, he rose from his chair, and stalked off toward the cells to 'check up' on Jacob Woods.

* * *

There wasn't any reason for Ray to toss a few blows Jacob's way, but he couldn't quite resist the urge to give him a few hits. He had been spoiling for a fight the previous day and had been denied it, so Ray chalked it up to that. He carefully avoided hitting the man in the face, going more for blows to his gut and his chest. Jacob Woods would be lined with bruises when Ray was finished, but nothing that anyone would notice unless they went about trying to undress him.

In a way, Ray was disappointed. Jacob didn't fight back. He just tossed his arms up like some sissy little girl trying to fend off Ray's blows. Ray wanted a fight. If he wanted a punching bag, he'd just take up boxing in his spare time. The lack of defense spoiled the pleasant rush that accompanied acts of violence, and he stopped before he would have liked to. His hands were starting to get sore anyway; not to mention there was this annoying pain that he associated with him having fractured or cracked a bone in one of his fingers.

He slammed the cell door behind him, leaving the battered, but not broken, Jacob Woods to rot.

As he walked down the hall, hands in his pockets, he couldn't help but think about how Chris was uncertain on their arrest. It made enough sense to him, as he had laid it out to Chris, but somehow the thought was nagging at him in his head. It didn't sit well with him. The car was blue, he was sure of it.

And as long as it was dark, it was all the connection he felt they needed to make sure the bastard was put away.

* * *

Ray was in the middle of giving the drink dispenser a good kicking when Chris came running up to him. For a moment, he didn't acknowledge Chris' presense, but finally turned his head so as to give the man a half glance. "What?"

"Shit, Ray. Another girl's turned up."

Ray started. "What?"

"Carved up, just like Jessica Matheeny."

"You're kiddin'."

"No."

He slammed his fist into the drink dispenser. If that one finger hadn't fractured before, it did just then. "He's... he's gotta have an accomplice, then. Workin' with somebody."

"I don't think it's him, Ray."

* * *

When she was alive, Amanda Carrow was likely a pretty thing, or so Ray guessed. As it was, she was a dirty, bloody corpse on the side of the road. He could imagine, though, what she might've been like alive. Pretty ginger hair that wasn't matted and tangled. Pink lipstick that wasn't smeared across her face. Maybe a nice red dress. It didn't particularly strike him that the thoughts were inappropriate at that moment.

Ray shook his head and nudged one of her legs with his shoe. "If it ain't Woods, we don't have any leads."

The thought didn't please him at all. Sure, he had counted on there being two dead women, but he had been patting himself on the back. He got him in one. Got a killer before he could do it again. Instead, he'd banged up some poor bloke who probably didn't have even the foggiest idea that his girlfriend had been murdered. Then, to top it off, he had given the man a thorough beating.

It was no wonder Woods didn't fight back. He wasn't a killer. He was innocent and likely didn't have a single bone in his body capable of killing women off like whatever sick bastard was doing it. The thought just pissed him off.

"We could canvas the area. See if anybody saw something this time?"

He snorted. "I can tell you what they saw. Dark car circlin' the area, then disappearin' off into no where, leavin' behind a corpse."

"No harm in trying?"

Ray sighed. "Go on. I'll be right behind you."

Chris nodded, and darted off down the road, leaving Ray behind. He crouched down next to Amanda Carrow's body, and on impulse, began checking her pockets. Forensics wasn't there yet, and damn if he was going to let them find something before him. Ray was about to give up when his fingers touched a slip of paper, and he pulled it out.

It was a phone number.

* * *

Their attempts at gleaning more information came to naught. A few people had seen a dark car circling the area, but no one had bothered to take a look at the license number, and no one had bothered to try to get a look at the driver. Ray hadn't expected any better, but he could tell Chris was disappointed that nothing had turned up.

He hadn't quite confessed that something had turned up, and that it was in his pocket. It wasn't for a lack of trust; he trusted Chris, but this was something he wanted to keep to himself for now. It was just a gut feeling. For now, the number was for his knowledge only.

Ray was sitting on his couch, phone in hand. It wasn't too late to make a call just to see who answered, but he was unsure if now was the right moment for it. Whoever the killer was, he had just dumped the body. If a call happened right after, it would be suspicious. He might stop, or skip town for a while.

He wasn't going to let that happen, and so he put the phone back down on the receiver. He'd wait a few days, and then see who that number belonged to.

* * *

His days off were usually spent with his girlfriend of the moment, but Ray was currently between girls, leaving his time open. Chris had suggested they spend the day doing whatever came to mind, and Ray decided to go along with it. It was better than hanging about the flat, debating whether or not he should screw waiting and just call the number right then.

In fact, he welcomed the distraction. He wondered, briefly, if Chris had a strange ability to know when he needed a distraction of some sort. He always seemed there to provide one at just the right opportunity, even if there wasn't some obvious indicator that he needed a distraction. If there was only just one positive to their entire friendship, it was that.

Chris had wanted to go out to lunch, and Ray had decided to indulge him. It was a common thing between them, going out to lunch, breakfast, dinner. Usually, Ray had to pay. He never complained, though he had plenty of reason to - as Chris very rarely ever reimbursed him for all the money spent just so he could drop food into the bottomless pit that was his stomach. Ray figured he had spent clear over a thousand pounds in the past year alone feeding him. Maybe one day, he thought, he'd ask for it back.

"So, Ray. You got a new girlfriend yet?" Chris asked between bites of his sandwich.

Ray shrugged. "Nah, not yet."

"Why not?"

"Been busy with you. We've been off gettin' pissed every night, ain't like I got the time to run off to a club and pick up a bird."

Chris smiled and took a bite of his sandwich. "Could go out to a club tonight, if you want."

Ray leaned back in the chair, contemplating the idea in a vague sense. He hadn't been to a club for a while, now that he thought about it. In fact, it was now seeming more and more like a good idea. With a broad smirk, Ray told Chris that that was exactly where they were going to spend the entire night.

* * *

The air in the club was smoky. It always was. Ray never quite figured out if it was from cigarettes, smoke machines, or marijuana; every time he visited, it had a different taste and smell to it. Best as he could guess, it was some mixture of the three, and depending on the night, one of the three overpowered the other. The club benefitted from the smoke, though, as coloured beams of light filtered through it and gave the place a frantic, almost dizzying appearance.

The music was a loud, hard rock beat, just the sort of sound he liked. He needed to come by more often, clubbing always made him feel relaxed. The combination of drinking, of loud music, of dancing, and that faint hint of marijuana cigarette smoke set him at ease. Any thought he had of the case was gone from his head as he chose to indulge purely in the moment.

Chris had wandered off a few minutes before to fetch them drinks, and Ray idly scoped out the dance floor, looking for anyone he felt like taking home. A few women caught his eye, and he stored their appearances in the back of his head for later, when he had decided who he wanted for the night.

Now Chris returned, armed with booze. Ray deftly took his from Chris. "Cheers!"

They both knew that drinks weren't supposed to be taken out on the floor, but they never particularly listened to that rule. They had never been caught, nor scolded for it by the bartender, so they had long since decided that the rule did not apply to them. Ray wouldn't have been surprised if some of the management had recognised them, pinned them as CID, and thought they could use it to their advantage, in a way. Let them do as they like - maybe they won't bring charges crashing down around their heads.

And that was exactly how Ray played it. He knew there was drug use, but he never reported it. He liked getting special privileges a bit too much to give it up. The law took a temporary backseat on his days off, after all.

* * *

She said her name was Lindsey. Lindsey Tor-something, Ray had already forgotten. It wasn't like her name mattered, she was just another pretty thing he was taking home. She didn't strike the right chords to make for a girlfriend of his, but she struck all the ones to be a good shag for the night. He didn't even have to get her drunk; she was already pissed on her own, and from the looks of her eyes, she might've taken a hit or two during the time at the club.

He didn't care. He wasn't fond of drugs- he had a bad experience trying to get a suspect to talk with them, but if some airheaded bird wanted to get herself messed up on something that wasn't nearly as good as cigarettes themselves, who was he to complain? He didn't know her, beyond a first name, and she'd be gone he next day.

Ray took her home.

Once inside, he couldn't keep his hands off her. She giggled and laughed, playfully pushing at him, but he knew he was in control. He slowly pushed her back to his bedroom, his hands carefully undoing each button of her blouse. When she finally got the drift, she was as bad as he was, her hands sliding down and inside the front of his trousers, teasing him. If she were sober, she probably would've been a dream at handjobs. But as she was, it was awkward fumbling, just enough to get him excited.

With her blouse undone, he pulled it off her, then shoved her back onto the bed. He panted, looking down on her from where he stood. He pulled his shirt off without a thought and tossed it on the floor, then positioned himself over her, and used one hand to remove her skirt.

He was quite sure he would have a very good night.

* * *

He was out of bed before she was. Ray never enjoyed telling his one night flings to get the hell out of his place- or at least, never in person. He had a much easier way of telling the they were unwanted. After waking, he sauntered into the bathroom to take a leak, then went searching for tape, a pad of paper, and a pen.

When he found the three, he quickly jotted down a message, then went to get changed into a fresh set of clothes. Once changed, he tore the paper from the pad, and went into the bathroom with the tape. It was a nice gesture, he thought, leaving her a note in a place that no woman could ever miss.

Ray smirked at the message. Won't be back for a few hours. Let yourself out. It was just polite enough so he could get another night with them if he so wanted, but carried the exact message he wanted to convey.

With that done, Ray grabbed his keys and left.

* * *

There was no particular destination in his mind when he had left. His only goal had been to not be there when she woke up. It was a risky maneuver; he had once found the bird he slept with stole his telly, but he had managed to replace it without much trouble. He didn't exactly leave things of value lying about, so there was little point in stealing from him. It was the one benefit of not being particularly well off.

Ray idly turned on the radio, seeking some sort of background noise beyond the sounds of his car's tyres on pavement. He could have used Chris and his amazing distraction abilities, but Chris slept in on days off, and considering the shape he was in when he went home, he could use the sleep. Yet without that distraction, Ray found himself thinking about the case again.

It wasn't Jacob Woods. Or at least, not for the death of Amanda Carrow. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and decided to do a drive-by of Woods' house. The colour of the car was bothering him. He was positive it was blue. He knew it was blue. And blue was dark, so the car used had to have belonged to Jacob. Ray didn't want to think of alternatives.

If he had bothered, he knew he could think of them, but it was a matter of personal pride. He was positive that Woods was their man, and if he was wrong, it was like an insult. He hadn't been able to pin the right guy. His hunch and the evidence and his gut feeling were all skewed, and that was no good. If those weren't spot on, hell, he might bang up some little old lady for bank robbery.

The drive passed quickly enough as he was thinking, trying to look at the case from a different angle. He slowed the speed of his car and cocked his head to the side of the road Woods lived on. What he saw made him apply the breaks.

"Shit."

The car was powder blue.

* * *

In the minutes following that realisation, Ray had decided to screw waiting. He had the phone number in the car, he was going to find a public phone and give it a ring. Damn if he was going to wait any longer. Jacob Woods wasn't the one who did it; his car wasn't the dark car people had been seeing. It was sodding powder blue, not blue.

He came to a screeching halt at a phone booth, and yanked the door open. He slammed a coin in, and then began to dial the number as fast as he could manage. Ray wasn't sure if it was fear, jitters, or some other type of excitement that was seizing him, but he felt himself shaking just slightly. No, he wasn't afraid. Excited, that was it. Maybe a bit nervous, he didn't want this to turn up to be another dead end.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

There was no answer. He let it ring a few more times, to no avail, before he slammed the phone back down on the hook. He curled his fingers into claw shapes, then decided he would do something even better to the phone than slamming it down. He would rip it, cord and all, out.

* * *

Ray parked his car outside of the Skelton's, and lit up a cigarette. He was still a mite pissed over no one answering the phone when he called; not even someone picking up and just breathing heavily over their end of the line. He didn't want to show off that side to Chris' parents, who knew him more as the friendly, if a bit gruff, older Detective that took care of their boy while they were out working.

He inhaled deep, let the nicotine work it's calming ways into his system. When he felt it had mellowed him enough, he flicked the cigarette out the window, and exited his car to walk up to the door.

Ray lightly rapt on it with his knuckles, and waited patiently for someone to answer. Usually, it was Chris' mum; and like usual, it was her who answered.

"Hello, Mrs. Skelton." He always felt a bit awkward calling her that. She wasn't much older than he was, there was maybe just five to seven years of difference between them. In fact, when he was younger, he figured she would have been in the right age range for the types of women he lusted after. Usually he didn't think about these sorts of things. "Chris up?"

She smiled at him. "Not yet, but I'm sure I could manage to get him out of bed if I tell him you're here."

"I'd appreciate it," he said.

"Come on in. Get yourself a drink if you like - you know how it can be getting him out of bed some mornings."

Ray chuckled. "Aye, I do. He can be a right pain in the arse if you don't know how to deal with him."

Mrs. Skelton held the door open for him, and Ray stepped inside to wait for what would be the result of her poking and prodding at her son to get up: Chris' dragging his sorry carcass downstairs.

gotitwrong @ 2008-12-15T00:26:00

2008-12-15T05:38:00Z

(blahblah charloft blahblah this)

1. What is your height?

~~173cm~~ 184cm.

2. What is your weight?

84kg.

3. What body type(s) do you identify yourself with?

Tall. Strong. Stuff like that.

4. How do you feel about your body?

Fine with it.

5. How do you think others feel about your body?

Women love it. Thats all that matters.

6. How does the media portray those with your body type?

Don't care.

7. What could you change about your body if you could?

~~Height~~ Nothing. Fine the way I am.

8. Has your body had any drastic changes?

No.

9. Have you ever had an eating or body image disorder?

No.

10. What piercings/tattoos/other modifications have you done to your body?

Doesn't apply.

11. How in tune are you with your body's signals - can you tell when an illness is coming on, for example?

Sorta. Don't get sick much.

gotitwrong @ 2008-12-13T18:19:00

2008-12-14T00:33:39Z

(For an older charloft prompt, found here.)

The following is handwritten in a cheap journal that looks generally NOT taken care of at all.

Therapist says I gotta write. Answer questions and stuff he gives me. He don't look at it none so I don't see the point. Questions he always gives are loaded. Stuff about emotions and stuff I think about or what I'd do if something happened. Like this.

WOULD YOU KILL 1 PERSON TO SAVE 1.000.000 OTHERS?

Whats that got to do with anything? Mean, sure, I'd do it. Makes sense, yeah? Cause I'd've just saved a bunch of other people for offing just one. Hell, it don't even say who its gotta be. I could just kill some bloke off the street or a druggie or a fella that's gotta rep for assault.

Boss'd say it were wrong, I bet, but it don't matter what he'd say. I was the one who kept all them people from dying. Ain't no way he could say it were right letting them all die if I could stop it. Specially since I wouldn't be killing anybody who didn't deserve it anyway. Not like I'm gonna go into somebody's flat and off them.

WOULD YOU KILL 1.000.000 PEOPLE TO SAVE SOMEONE IN PARTICULAR?

Damn right I would. If it were the Guv or Chris, I'd do it. Maybe even for the Boss. The Guv'd have my head if I didn't. Dunno how I'd do it, but I'd give it a try. Probably end up locked up before I could hit ten though. Ain't like I got anything that could kill that many people at once. So I'd have to do it one at a time or sommat. And nobody's that good.

You don't even kill that many people fighting in a war. Bloke like me, might be able to work a bit from the inside, muck about with stuff. Make it look like somebody else did it, but the Guv'd figure it out quicker than I could get it done.

Or the Boss. Both of them, likely.

WOULD YOU SACRIFICE YOURSELF TO SAVE 1.000.000 PEOPLE?

Think there were more on there, but it don't matter. I got one answer for this.

Fuck no.

Makes me a bad person, don't it? Not offing meself to save others or killing one bloke or killing a bunch of people to save the Guv or the Boss or Chris, yeah? Bet my therapist'd have a fuckin feild day with this.

Don't care. I don't feel 'bad' about any of the decisions. Nothing. Zero, zip, nada. Don't regret a thing either.

Not like it matters. Its just questions and questions don't mean a thing.

gotitwrong @ 2008-12-13T05:54:00

2008-12-13T11:22:15Z

(For an older charloft prompt, found here. :| Just doing a bit of fleshing out with Ray on various things, NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE ALONG.)

A Collection of Things Found in Raymond Carling's Pockets (And On His General Person)

2 packs of cigarettes (one half empty)
1 Zippo lighter
3 packs of Juicy Fruit gum
1 keyring (with 7 keys)
1 warrant card
48p
2 1/2 pieces of paper (complete with phone numbers)
unknown quantity of string/thread
1 pen

gotitwrong @ 2008-11-28T22:25:00

2008-11-29T03:27:49Z

☆ Threadhopping with this character - yes/no/maybe so?: Yes!

☆ Backtagging with this character - yes/no/maybe so?: Yes.

☆ Hugging this character?: Ray isn't big on hugging. But go ahead!

☆ Giving this character a kiss?: Ray will accept it from any and all women, and if you're a dude, he will kill you.

☆ Punching this character: DO IT.

☆ Is there anything ought not be mentioned near this character?: :| No?

☆ Is there anything you need us to know about interacting with this character? Special physical features, fighting abilities, STUFF: Ray wears four inch heels sometimes.

☆ Anything else, please mention here: :|

practice with knowswheregodis

2008-11-24T08:16:06Z

[Another day, another case. And with that, surveillance, as done by two particular detectives: Carling and Skelton. Neither of whom exactly enjoy doing this part of the job but always seem assigned to do it.

Ray is leaning back in the driver's side seat, barely paying attention. His car stereo is faintly playing Free's new album, Heartbreaker (because since it's his car, he gets to pick the music).

In various locations in the car are binoculars, a camera, trash, papers, cans, magazines, and stuff for him and Chris to munch on when they feel like it. Basically everything they'd need for hours of sitting around in a car]

practice with knowswheregodis

2008-11-18T22:24:01Z

[and we open on Ray Carling. note that Ray is relaxing at his desk, foot in top drawer, smoking a fag. there is probably paperwork to be done, or something that would involve him doing work, but he is currently not doing that. hurrah for procrastination and shirking of duty selectively and at what is clearly a well planned moment. or not. though it doesn't matter, point is, Ray is not Doing Work, he is Goofing Off]

gotitwrong @ 2008-11-08T14:46:00

2008-11-08T21:19:58Z

GREATEST HITS OF 1974
For use by Reality Shifted's Life on Mars cast. :| Maybe eventually there will be download links.

JANUARY

The Faces - Pool Hall Richard/I Wish It Would Rain
Golden Earring - Radar Love
Robert Knight - Love On A Mountain Top
Mud - Tiger Feet
Cozy Powell - Dance With The Devil
The Sweet - Teenage Rampage
Andy Williams - Solitaire

FEBRUARY

Marc Bolan & T. Rex - Teenage Dream
David Bowie - Rebel Rebel
Alice Cooper - Teenage Lament '74
Ronnie Lane - How Come
Lulu - The Man Who Sold The World
Suzi Quatro - Devil Gate Drive
Diana Ross - All My Life
Alvin Stardust - Jealous Mind
The Stylistics - Rockin' Roll Baby
The Wombles - The Wombling Song

MARCH

The Bay City Rollers - Remember (Sha-La-La)
Barry Blue - School Love
The Hollies - The Air That I Breathe
Hot Chocolate - Emma
Terry Jacks - Seasons In The Sun
Elton John - Candle In The Wind
Love Unlimited Orchestra - Love's Theme
Paul McCartney & Wings - Jet
The New Seekers - I Get A Little Sentimental Over You
Paper Lace - Billy, Don't Be A Hero
Freddie Starr - It's You
Ringo Starr - You're Sixteen
Barry White - Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up
Lena Zavaroni - Ma He's Making Eyes At Me

APRIL

ABBA - Waterloo
The Carpenters - Jambalaya
The Chi-Lites - Homely Girl
Gary Glitter - Remember Me This Way
The Glitter Band - Angel Face
Bill Haley & His Comets - Rock Around The Clock
Limmie & The Family Cookin' - A Walkin' Miracle
Mud - The Cat Crept In
Olivia Newton-John - Long Live Love
Little Jimmy Osmond - I'm Gonna Knock On Your Door
Queen - Seven Seas of Rhye
Charlie Rich - The Most Beautiful Girl
Diana Ross - You Are Everything
Slade - Everyday
Sunny - Doctor's Orders
The Wombles - Remember You're A Womble

MAY

The Bay City Rollers - Shang-A-Lang
Mungo Jerry - Long Legged Woman Dressed In Black
The Osmonds - I Can't Stop
Paper Lace - The Night Chicago Died
Peters & Lee - Don't Stay Away Too Long
The Rubettes - Sugar Baby Love
The Sparks - This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us
Jim Stafford - Spiders & Snakes
Alvin Stardust - Red Dress
Status Quo - Break The Rules
Wizzard - Rock'n' Roll Winter
Stevie Wonder - He's Misstra Know It All

JUNE

Charles Aznavour - She
David Cassidy - If I Didn't Care
Gigliola Cinquetti - Go (Before You Break My Heart)
Cockney Rebel - Judy Teen
Brian Ferry - The In Crowd
Gary Glitter - Always Yours
Lobo - I'd Love You To Want Me
Mouth & McNeal - I See A Star
Alan Price - Jarrow Song
Leo Sayer - One Man Band
Scaffold - Liverpool Lou
Showaddywaddy - Hey Rock And Roll
Ray Stevens - The Streak
R. Dean Taylor - There's A Ghost In My House

JULY

Stephanie De Sykes - Born With A Smile On My Face
The Drifters - Kissin' In The Back Row Of The Movies
First Class - Beach Baby
Terry Jacks - If You Go Away
Paul McCartney & Wings - Band On The Run
George McCrae - Rock Your Baby
The Pearls - Guilty
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap - Young Girl
Slade - Bangin' Man
The Sweet - The Six Teens
10cc - Wall Street Shuffle
The Three Degrees - When Will I See You Again
The Wombles - Banana Rock
Roy Wood - Going Down The Road

AUGUST

The Bay City Rollers - Summerlove Sensation
Eric Clapton - I Shot The Sheriff
Cockney Rebel - Mr. Soft
The Glitter Band - Just For You
The Hues Corporation - Rock The Boat
Mud - Rocket
Doony & Marie Osmond - I'm Leaving It (All) Up To You
The Osmonds - Love Me For A Reason
The Rolling Stones - It's Only Rock 'n Roll (But I Like It)
The Rubettes - Tonight
Jimmy Ruffin - What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted
The Sparks - Amateur Hour
The Stylistics - You Make Me Feel Brand New
Sweet Dreams - Honey Honey

SEPTEMBER

Johnny Bristol - Hang On In There Baby
John Denver - Annie's Song
Carl Douglas - Kung Fu Fighting
KC & The Sunshine Band - Queen of Clubs
Andy Kim - Rock Me Gently
Paper Lace - The Black Eyed Boys
Cozy Powell - Na Na Na
Diana Ross & The Supremes - Baby Love
Leo Sayer - Long Tall Glasses
Showaddywaddy - Rock 'n' Roll Lady
Alvin Stardust - You You You
Sylvia - Y Viva Espana
Barry White - Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe

OCTOBER

Paul Anka & Odia Coates - (You're) Having My Baby
The Bay City Rollers - All Of Me Loves All Of You
Ken Boothe - Everything I Own
David Bowie - Knock On Wood
David Essex - I'm Gonna Make You A Star
Andy Fairweather-Low - Reggae Tune
George McCrae - I Can't Leave You Alone
Gary Shearton - I Get A Kick Out Of You
Peter Shelley - Gee Baby
Slade - Far Far Away
Rod Stewart - Farewell/Bring It On Home To Me
Sweet Sensation - Sad Sweet Dreamer

NOVEMBER

Lynsey De Paul - No Honestly
The Drifters - Down On The Beach Tonight
Gary Glitter - Oh Yes! You're Beautiful
The Glitter Band - Let's Get Together Again
Eddie Holman - (Hey There) Lonely Girl
The Peppers - Pepper Box
Pilot - Magic
Suzi Quatro - The Wild One
Queen - Killer Queen
Roxy Music - All I Want Is You
The Rubettes - Juke Box Jive
The Sparkles - Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth
The Stylistics - Let's Put It All Together
Barry White - You're The First, The Last, My Everything

DECEMBER

Bachman-Turner Overdrive - You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet
The Chi-Lites - Too Good To Be Forgotten
Disco Tex & The Sex-O-Lettes - Get Dancing
Rupie Edwards - Ire Feelings (Skanga)
The Goodies - The In Betweenies/Father Christmas Do Not Touch Me
Hello - Tell Him
Elton John - Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds
Ralph McTell - Streets of London
Mud - Lonely This Christmas
Elvis Presley - My Boy
Status Quo - Down Down
Rod Stewart & The Faces - You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything
The Wombles - Wombling Merry Christmas

gotitwrong @ 2008-11-06T15:25:00

2008-11-06T20:34:00Z

Player Name: Dero
Player LJ: derogative
Email and/or AIM: auron12001@hotmail.com (or) auron12001@gmail.com; xx derogative xx
Timezone: EST
Other Characters: The Master (demnify), the Brigadier (barelyemoting)

Character: DS Raymond Carling
Series/Fandom: Life on Mars
Deviance: d1

Age: 38 38 38 (Birthday: April 30th, 1933/1939)
Gender: Male
Species: Human

Canon Used: Life on Mars, info from Ashes to Ashes

Appearance:

After the events of this comment thread, Ray now has a scar running under his right eye and down his face, a scar across his stomach, and a scar on his lower back from where he was stabbed.

Psychology: To most appearances, Ray Carling is not a complex man. He likes drinking, good looking women, and plenty of fags. He's crass, boorish, an aggressive womaniser, and has no problems putting people in their place. Technically, that's all true. Ray does love a good night out at the pub with friends. He loves looking at gorgeous women (though with Ashes to Ashes hinting he might actually be gay, that might just be an act. Or he's bisexual. Who knows). He loves smoking, and is probably well on the way to lung cancer.

Ray keeps up this appearance with most people. He shows off his more crass side because it establishes him as a strong person. He can take the rough and tumble just as well as he can dish it out. It's gotten him along his whole life, so there's no reason for him to put down the defenses. Why ruin a good thing?

While he's not the brightest bulb in the box, Ray has a bit of wit to him, along with a few random bits of knowledge. He never got far in education, so the stuff he knows isn't that advanced. Basic english, maths, sciences. About the stuff you learn when you're 11 or 12 or so. So he's of an average intelligence, but he doesn't have that much knowledge - and he's not going to change his ways for anyone. He knows what works.

He can be a right stubborn git when he wants to be; the aforementioned resistance to change is one of those. He knows how things are and how they work. He's strong in his convictions, and by god you'll have to spend ages trying to convince him of something he's against. Most people don't have the tolerance for it, because he'll resist it with every fibre of his being.

Carling isn't much prone to extreme shows of emotion, especially rage. He almost never gets angry, which is a bit unnerving at times, since you can't really read what he's up to. He could be pissed beyond all belief but wearing a faint grin. It's only when he attacks that his feelings are made aware, but even then, he still has that cold, removed demeanour. Ray Carling doesn't show anger, he doesn't show rage, but he feels it - extremely. Ray can be an angry man when it comes down to it, but you'll almost never find out why, or just how much.

He tends to express his displeasure in things more subtly, or with barbed comments. He'll bump into people he dislikes. He might knock papers to the floor 'on accident'. Things that are acts of aggression and shows of power, but not overt and obvious signs of rage. His commentary is similar, with snide remarks and pointed commentary that is meant to elect laughter in other people while thoroughly frustrating the target of his ire.

All and all, the persona Ray shows to the world is that of a bully. And not just any bully, he's one of those bullies who somehow keeps getting all the chicks, or so he claims. And he isn't even classy about it; as his idea of things to happen on a first date involve 'downstairs inside', ie, putting his hands down her panties. Ray moves quick - or he's just trying to assert himself as heterosexual, if you believe Ashes to Ashes' hinting.

But that's not the end all of Ray. That's just what he shows to most everyone. The select few Ray gets close to (Chris comes to mind) get to see a completely different side of Ray. They get to see a fairly compassionate man, someone who cares about the people he works with and the people in the city. Ray may be a callous prick to the world and the people in it, but it doesn't mean he doesn't internally care. He just can't afford to, not on the job. He has to do what is necessary, and even then, he doesn't want to seem frail. So his better side is private, and rarely seen.

Along with that side is a heavy dose of silly, something that frequently comes out with colleague and best friend Chris Skelton. He'll get involved in such antics such as lighting farts on fire, or attempting to anyway. They goof around, they tease each other, and all and all Ray allows himself to relax. Ray without his defenses up is a very different animal, almost a complete opposite of the bully he shows. Oh, he's still a jerk and a prick, but you can actually see he has good traits, and he's a decent human being.

(And while we're briefly on the subject of Chris, let's take a moment to look at how he views the man. There's a significant age gap between Ray and Chris, fifteen years total, but it doesn't seem to show when they act. The two of them are on the same mental wavelength - and arguably the same mental age. Ray is... very attached to Chris, always has been and always will be. It's multiple parts how he views him. You've got one part seeing him as his much younger (and much beloved) younger brother, whom he must defend/protect from things he doesn't approve of. There's the part of him that views him as his best friend; someone who he can always turn to when he needs support or companionship. There's also the young rookie he took under his wing and is in the process of training to be a good copper. Then there's one other bit that loves Chris in some weird way, except Ray won't admit it and will just write it off as caring about the div, 's all. If there's one person Ray cares about the most in the world, it's Chris. Sometimes he lets him down, he knows it, but he does care, and he'll do just about anything for him. That is, suffice it to say, if you hurt him, Ray will smash you into pieces. The easiest way to get Ray's ire, after all, is to be mean to Chris. Then you're doomed. Saying Ray is 'protective' is putting it very, very lightly.)

Good luck getting to see that side of Ray, it's nearly impossible. You pretty much have to rank right up there with Chris to get to that bit.

Another bit about Ray is he's fiercely loyal. He'll do just about anything for the people he's devoted to. Ray would have to be pushed to extreme limits to legitly betray anyone in CID (except maybe Sam, but that'd tick the Guv off), and even then he wouldn't do it willingly. So if you at least win Ray's loyalty, you're golden, and you'll have an ally for nigh on forever.

Ray also has a bit of a significant jealous streak going on; not just over the loss of DI position, but over a perceived threat that Sam would take away the two people closest to him - Chris and Gene, who in turns are his best friend and the man he looks up to the most. He dislikes people moving in on what/who he considers 'his', even if he doesn't really mean to be possessive of them. He doesn't like the threat to him - in a sense he doesn't like the potential instability, and fears that he'll be left behind. Whether or not this is some huge insecurity of his is really unknown, but it's worth noting that there is a niggling fear in his mind that he'll be dumped for something newer and better. This is probably why he doesn't have many friends, too.

Another thing is that Ray tries to emulate Gene in as many ways as possible. He wants to make the man proud, and he's willing to do just about anything to garner Gene's approval - including one instance that resulted in a cell death. He'll do whatever he thinks his Guv would do in a situation, which isn't exactly the way he should be going about things. After all, he isn't Gene, no matter how much he tries to be like him. You can say there's a hefty dose of idolising here with him, and there's no other man in the world Ray wants to be more like than his very own DCI.

Towards the cell death, it showed off another facet of his personality or rather showed one put to it's very length. Ray caused the death of a man in his care, but he showed no remorse about it. He even went so far as trying to destroy the only evidence that would point him as being guilty of manslaughter. In fact, one could almost say Ray showed off a degree of sociopathy or psychosis, but odds are he was just hiding behind his established dickish persona. Though the fact he was almost grinning as he was talking to Sam about the tape is a bit worrying...

But anyway. After the events of 2x03, Ray has been suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He has a few nightmares, gets a bit uneasy around anything explosive, and sometimes goes into brief fugues. His manifestation of it is through numbing, essentially turning off his emotions and shutting things out as a means of coping. While he's getting a handle on things and is at least functioning as he would normally (he has to keep up appearances), he is still trying to deal with it in private. That sort of weakness he won't let anyone see ever again, not under any circumstances.

Despite all his bad bits, he's still a decent person and a damn good cop. People love hanging out and talking with Ray, and he's got one of the best arrest records in CID. So he must be doing something right.

Also, while I'm thinking of it: passive-aggression. Ray has plenty of it.

PS: Ray didn't seem particularly thrilled at Sam saving them from bent copper status. He seemed more annoyed, actually. So either he didn't care or he was enjoying the perks that came with being a bent cop. :|

Other Skills/Abilities: Ray, to put it rather bluntly, is more brawn than brains. His skills are more geared toward the physical, for taking and receiving blows. If Gene's a lion, then Ray is a bear, and he has absolutely no problems showing off all the brute strength he has at his disposal. Just for a bit of reference? He can chuck a locker across a room, and that type of locker had to have a base weight of around 250 pounds. And that's if it was empty. So, suffice it to say, Ray is damn strong.

Going with that, he's not the sort of man you want to tangle with. Nine times out of ten, Ray'll win whatever fight he's dragged into, if only out of the fact he has experience, the tenacity to keep fighting, the strength to break people (literally), and enough stamina to keep him fighting as long as he needs to.

To things that aren't fighting or crushing people with his mighty fists of doom, Ray is actually a damn fine singer. He doesn't do it often, and usually when he does it's to mock someone else, but he has a lovely singing voice. If he had different aspirations in life, he probably could have had a career as a singer.

As well, he had a bit of a rough and tumble youth, one where he hung about with the wrong crowd. He picked up a few skills from them, but he's let most of them fall into disuse. He's a cop now, after all; he doesn't have any need to know any breaking and entering skills, or stuff like that. Though he's still a damn fine lookout when he pays attention. He just doesn't.

Now, according to Gene, Ray has caught more villains than the whole department put together. So it's easy to assume he's a damn hard worker and despite moments where he seems like a bloody idiot, he's a good cop, and one who always gets his collar. He has years of experience and know-how, and he knows more of the 'old' procedure inside and out. He can sniff up evidence where other people might not (or he'll bang things about until he gets said evidence; either way, he gets what he needs). Not to mention his ability to intimidate is very handy in getting people to talk.

As of his most recent death, he has unknowingly gained an ability to manipulate fire.

Other Weaknesses: Due to the education system at the time, Ray doesn't have much of a formal education. He knows a bit about some things, but otherwise has the skills of a young boy towards things such as science and maths. And by young boy, I mean '11 year old'. He was, after all, sent to a secondary modern, where he was taught skills meant to shove him right out into the work force to do some menial job. But he gets by with what he has, even though it's not particularly stellar.

As a result of this, Ray has pretty shoddy handwriting. It can be read, but he never really took the time to hone it once he got past 12 or so. Thus, when it comes to writing, it's a bit messy. Then again, Ray doesn't write much, so it doesn't hold him back. Plus he can make Chris write stuff for him. Chris! Chris, go write things for Ray.

Despite Ray's totally awesome physicalness, he's not exactly the pinnacle of health. He's been smoking since he was a teenager, so he's pretty much addicted to nicotine. Along with it come the various perks of lower lung capacity, higher blood pressure, so on and so forth.

He also has been drinking for years. Possibly a decade or two. He often drinks to excess and sees very little problem with it (though he'll never drink while on duty, only when off). If he hasn't become an alcoholic yet, Ray's well on the way. Odds are he doesn't care.

And one final, last note: Ray is painfully human.

History: Ray Carling was born April 30th, 1933, in the great city of Manchester, to a working class family. His very young childhood went relatively uneventful; his dad worked a lot, and his mum did her best to raise him right. It went well enough until World War II, where upon his father was conscripted.

His mum took up a job to try to keep things going at home, but women weren't paid that well, even with a good chunk of the male work force gone. Ray was put into school and for a year they struggled along. Then when he was seven, on Christmas, Manchester was bombed. Ray made it through, but his mum didn't. So, not having any other family (as far as he knew), his mum dead, and his father still fighting in the war, he was stuck in an orphanage. Only temporary, they told him. When his dad came home, he'd be sent home to live with him. Ray clung onto that idea.

Pity for him his dad got killed in the fighting in 1942. Ray was nine at the time. That sealed his fate, more or less. He would not be going home to anyone, so he pushed the idea out of his head and, even as an adult, never mentions his parents. No point in mentioning what he doesn't have and what he can barely remember. But life went on.

In 1944, when he was 11, he went to take his 11+ exam to see where he'd be 'sorted' in the tripartite system. Ray didn't keep much up on his studies as a boy, so it wasn't much of a surprise as he got relegated to a 'failure school', a secondary modern. He stayed with it for a few years before leaving completely at the age of 14, in 1947.

Ray worked odd jobs here and there to make money, and he fell in with a bit of a rough and tumble crowd for a few years. He never broke the law personally, but most of the people he hung about with did. He was the de facto look out when they took him a long, and became well acquainted with running and hiding whenever the law came by. That went on until Ray was 17, when he was conscripted to serve National Service.

That was in 1950, the year the Korean War started and National Service was extended from eighteen months to a full two years. As a result of the whole thing, those two years were spent in the war itself. He served in a fair share of battles and did a good deal of fighting. He came out of the war in 1952 when his National Service ended, and he was in, more or less, one piece. He was shot once, but otherwise was very good at not getting himself blown up, shot, attacked, or otherwise sent off to hospitals. He was a lucky bastard, basically.

He was 19 when he was back home, and turned his eye to taking up a new area of work. Most of his old buddies had either been conscripted themselves and probably killed or most likely locked up for being trouble makers, so he had, essentially, an empty slate to work with. And after careful deliberation, he joined the Manchester police force, where he's been working ever since. He spent his mandatory time on the beat before putting in a request to transfer to CID. He worked his time as a Training Detective Constable before promoted to a full DC. It's also worth noting that during this time, Ray became friends with Gene and came to view him as a personal hero figure, sort of.

After a few years, Ray was promoted to Detective Sergeant. Ray worked damn hard all those years, earning himself one of the best arrest records of CID current. No one could argue that he wasn't a damn fine copper and he didn't do his job well. Also during this time (or even before he became DS) he started taking bribes.

By the time he was at least 38 or so, Chris Skelton was added to the team as a new Detective Constable, and Ray fell in with him rather quickly. He and the younger man became fast friends and good working partners - not to mention, Ray sort of went about teaching Chris the ropes. Things went on rather well, the lot of them working with each other nicely. Sometime before February of 1973, Ray put in for a promotion to Detective Inspector. He might've gotten it too, if it weren't for Sam Tyler. Thanks, Sam.

Also ps: I am doing it in clear list order so I can keep track of it otherwise I will go OH NOEZ INTERNET

1x01: Things were going nicely until DI Sam Tyler stepped into things, thus promptly killing Ray's chance at the promotion. Stupid Sam. Anyway, a series of murders had been going on, involving young women being garroted with a thin wire/rope/thing, no sexual assault, blahblah. Presumably Ray and Chris were two detectives on the case, seeing as they knew a bit about it. Anyway, in comes Sam with his crazy. Perhaps Ray could have tolerated it. Except then Sam was mean to Chris and that was it. Through the rest of the episode Ray spends his time being mildly antagonistic and wondering wtf is going on with Sam. He also demands a striptease from Annie.

Then he disappears for the rest of the episode, because Sam is crazy and he didn't want to hang out with Ray. Then again that's silly, because Ray was actually doing other work he was supposed to be doing. Yep.

1x02: Robberies! Fun. Or, well, not fun, as Sam let the lead suspect go and that got June, one of the girls that worked at CID, shot. Ray is mostly doing his own things in this episode but he does make brief appearances to tell a crowd to get away from a crime scene, bring a lady Gene describes as 'tits in a jumper' into CID for questioning (he also got her a ride home on the bus), strong arm a guy into giving them information... then he and Chris are supposed to do surveillance to keep an eye on Annie and Leonard, but the skip out to go play darts against C Division.

1x03: Oh, this is fun. This one has murder (or so everyone believes)! Ray, uh, still doesn't do much. Though he gets to be racist! Also Gene sends him off to find a blade that doesn't exist and he does it because he loves his guv. Though he also roughs up Dodds a little, and hangs around while Sam does the bit with trying to catch the person who was buying guns. It failed and Ray was annoyed. :| THEN THERE IS A GUNFIGHT WOO AWESOME.

1x04: Ray ...still doesn't do much but he's around. He does a bit of betting, he insinuates that Joni is, uh, generally dirty (I mean, 'wash your hands' comments? :| Really). Though there are about two scenes that are important. One is the one where they find Joni's body. You can just barely hear Ray explaining things to Chris. The lines are this:

"You can't mess around with Warren and get away with it. (Something here I still can't make out.) That's just how it goes."

Then when Sam approaches, Ray snarks loud enough for him to hear, generally making barbed commentary that the only reason Joni was dead was because of Sam. The lines "If you don't play the game, people get hurt. You didn't play the game, and she paid the price." are significantly telling. ...Then Sam tries to smash his head in.

Then at the end Sam arrests Warren and CID is saved from corruption and everyone is happy. ...Except Ray. He's sort of annoyed.

1x05: Ray fakes sick, skips work to go see Manchester United play against City, and then Gene chases him down the streets to bust his ass for faking sick. Oh, and he arrests someone for cattle rustling. Good job, Ray.

1x06: Ray has a birthday party thrown for him, stands around with a gun, makes a comment on donuts, gives Sam tea, momentarily frets over Gene, and then is totally proud of Gene at the end.

1x07: OH MY GOD AN EPISODE RAY IS IN FOR MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES HOLY DAMN.

Okay. Let us attempt to be coherent. This episode is one of two that actually, you know, feature Ray prominently. Note, the first episode that does show him a lot paints him as a villainous sort. You see, Gene wants to have dinner with Sam some few hours after they arrest a drug dealer/streaker. (Ray's car is shite, too.) So, Gene leaves Ray in charge.

Thing is, when they get back? Dude is dead. Everyone except Ray is generally upset or traumatised. Ray is just cool with everything and his normal prickish self. Things go on as Ray does his job and Sam goes around trying to figure out why Billy Kemble is dead.

Ray trusts a tape to Chris. Chris fails at destroying it. Sam finds said tape, and Ray reveals how psychopathic he really can get. He proceeds to try to beat the shit out of Sam and he throws a locker. Sam cheats and wins the fight.

The truth is revealed: Ray killed Billy Kemble with Chris' assistance. It wasn't murder, but it sure as hell was manslaughter. As a result? Ray was demoted down to Detective Constable and had his pay halved. This was, suffice it to say, devastating.

1x08: Ray is allowed to go on a case, yay! Anyway, Ray gets to manhandle Sam's daddy a little bit, threatens him a little, gets yelled at by Sam, blahblah. He contemplates going toe to toe with Sam before backing off. Then at then end, he wins a bet! :D With Chris. Because Ray bet Sam would pull a gun on Gene, whereas Chris bet Gene would pull a gun on Sam.

2x01: Ray shoves around reporters. Ray also sings for a bit to mock Sam and his evidence searching team. Chris and a few other CID detectives join in. It's a lovely bonding moment that possibly annoys Sam. Ray also assists in tossing around a vase of human ashes. He even pretends to drop them and points and laughs. Ray is totally the best. RAY GETS PROMOTED TO DS hooray. Chris and Ray also make fun of Sam's silly little invention for blowing up tires.

Also RAY mentions getting a warrant, shock and awe. Ray arrests Crane, he has the murder weapon checked for prints (so he says), he and Chris arrest some Hungarians, then Ray and Chris drag Crane out to the funny farm.

2x02: Ray, with Chris, make fun of a guy for having sex with a sheep. Also more racism. Ray also sleeps at his desk and pretends to be a customer at a post office.

2x03: SAM FUCKING BLOWS RAY UP WITH A CAR BOMB JESUS CHRIST. No seriously that's what happens. Ray is hospitalised (and apparently is supposed to be off work for at least a few weeks, possibly remain in hospital for that time), but he lets himself out early. And guess what? PTSD, okay. He blanks out, he goes numb, so on and so forth. He ends up shooting an innocent man, too. Then to top it off? He gets held at gunpoint. This is, uh, pretty major. Especially since Gene was goading the guy to shoot Ray, and Ray was pretty much frayed to start with. He almost cries, really. :| Not the best moment ever. But at the end he seems more or less okay, as the guy gets arrested and then everyone is all nice to Ray. Awesome! :D Also Chris is a div.

2x04: Sexy parties that Ray did not participate in. But this does feature Ray giving Chris totally awesome (and totally bad) dating advice! :Db Also there is silliness in the dark, started by Ray. Seriously, he starts it by waving his flashlight in Chris' face and giggling like a little boy. Also he sets up a radio in the women's bathroom. Good job, Ray. Surveillance. Then darts at the end and Ray demands to know how far Gene got with Missus Luckhurst. Ray loev hearing other people's sex lives.

2x05: Sam is on drugs! But no one cares. Ray attempts to make a man not commit suicide. Ray hasn't been to the pub in 36 hours. This is hell. He whines that he was busy but uhhhh he was sleeping. Most of this episode was in THE PAST so. It is in the past. Uhhhh stuff. Ray reveals he really doesn't like it when people go after kids.

2x06: Ray fails at identifying living or dead bodies. Fail. Ray also is assigned to keep an eye on a witness in a coma. Fail there too, as the guy gets killed. That's about it.

Reality Description: Manchester, England. 1973. This, my friends, is our basic setting. Now, allow me to elaborate.

Manchester is a working class city, for most part. Sure, as time goes on, there'll be a few big scientific advances going on, but for now, it's mostly a city of hard working people. A city of factories, of smoke, of mills and all sorts of things.

It also is a city of murderers, drug dealers, prostitutes, bombings, robberies, gangsters, illegal pornography and the ilk. Fun, isn't it? Good thing the city has damn good cops. (I like saying 'damn good', apparently.) You've got your good and your bad, and the people work with it.

It also happens to be 1973. What does this mean? It means totally awesome 70s fashion. It means totally awesome 70s music. It also means everything has a sepia filter, because the past always has sepia filters. This is all you need to know about 1973 specifically. Though I suppose it'll be 1974 soon. But 1973 information still applies.

A particularly significant location in the reality is CID. It's a biiiiig police place. Well, I doubt the building itself is CID since everybody seems to hang about and there's different floors, but only CID is important and everything else is silly and in the mystical ether. Now, CID. CID has the best in everything. And by best, I mean typewriters, messy collator's den, and some chalkboards. And a thing they can tack stuff into if they don't wanna use the chalkboard. Also phones. 1970s phones. Also booze and cigarettes. Also there's a bathroom around there somewhere. And some holding cells! Totally awesome, man.

Another place happens to be The Railway Arms. It is a pub. That is why it is important, because Ray can often be found there if he isn't at CID. It is run by Nelson, who is awesome. :| Anyway, it has booze. Totally even more awesome. Ray even has a certain spot he likes hanging out at near this one sort of pillar thing. Don't sit there. ALSO? There's a TELLY! A telly! So yeah that makes it even more totally sweet.

Ray also has a flat but we never see it. Presumably he sleeps there sometimes. And has a couch and stuff. He lives alone, too, because ...because he's Ray. Though sometimes when he has a girlfriend (or so he claims) she moves in for a bit before they break up and she takes off somewhere.

UHHHHH I think that is everything. :|