EPTCold and dark. The shades on the window are all drawn. Every so often a flash of lightning illuminates the office, the only source of light . Papers are strewn about, dust collecting on books that have obviously never been touched. I sit alone, head in my hands, a half finished glass of whiskey on my desk. Another flash illuminates the nameplate on the desk.
"Detective"
I scoff to myself. Detective. I don't deserve to be called that. Not after what happened. Not after HE appeared. Not after I failed to catch him time and again. Not after HE started taking away Liquid City's finest. Three files sit on my desk, their contents smudged and edges worn from numerous readings. I reach down to examine the first, hoping that this time, something would change. Something would be different. Somehow, there would be the proof I needed to bring him down.
Phr0st, the name emblazoned on the first file. The first victim. Poor bastard went to work one October morning, only to find himself killed while he was gone. Choked to death eating his french fries. Wasn't such a happy meal after all. Worst part of it was we couldn't convince him he was dead. Poor guy went about his daily life, pretending nothing had happened. Apparently the dead lose the ability to smell rotting flesh.
Next to go was 5hitcombo, or Shitcombo as his friends affectionately knew him. No one had heard from him for a couple of weeks, so they sent us over to check up on him. Found him frozen to death, curled up in a grill cover for warmth. From the evidenced we gathered, at first appeared just to be a tragic accident. He was wandering around outside, only to discover he had lost the key to his house. Froze to death in less than 2 hours, according to the autopsy. His friends hope that once Spring comes around he'll defrost and he'll be able to go about his daily life like Phr0st, albeit dead.
The last case was the most confusing of all. DickSuckChan simply disappeared one night. He turned up later the next day, but he was different, he had changed. He had died. He started to insist people call him WhatsUpChan. He started every sentence with "what's up?" DickSuckChan was gone. And no one knew what had happened.
At least, no one could prove anything. But I knew. I knew all to well. I knew that the 3 were not victims of tragic accidents. I knew what had happened. I just didn't have enough proof. HE was too good for that.
CALLER. The mastermind. The man behind everything. The greatest criminal Liquid City had seen since the passing of Tdot Krazy, the legendary gangster. He invincible, and he knows it. The bastard is crazy enough to actually live up to his motto. "Always kill, never die. Always win, never lose."
Worst of all, he knows he is untouchable. He flaunts it. After we arrived at Phr0st's house, I saw him across the street, hands across his throat, pantomiming choking. He then held up a small vial for me to see, the skull and crossbones visible even from a distance. He smiled, turned and walked away.
The day after 5hitcombo was found, I received an envelope unmarked envelope. It contained 5hits house key, and a small piece of paper with "HUEHUEHUE" written in green, yellow, and black. Caller's calling card. On the back, "What's Up?" was written. Unfortunatly, I couldn't put the peices together. DickSuckChan could have been saved. I failed.
Anonymous envelopes and gestures aren't enough to build a case. I can talk, no one listens.
There have been no incidents since DickSuckChan's "change." At least, none that anyone not looking would notice. But just last week, Tiamats were allowed back in the city for the first time. The weapon had been banned because of Caller's skill at wielding them. But now, they're back. And for no reason. At least, no reason that anyone not looking could see. But I know the truth. Caller is at it again. He no doubt has taken control of Riot Imports and the City council. I just need to figure out how.
And once I do, HE is going down. There will be no more victims. Liquid City will be safe once more. And I might be able to look at my face in the mirror once again.
