The Eastern District Chief Constable's office hummed with tension, the kind that settled in when something didn't quite add up. A detective stood rigid in front of a large monitor, eyes locked on the rotating surveillance feeds as they cycled one after another. In the upper right corner of the screen, green text flickered steadily, marking the exact location of the incident.
Second Cross Street, Wallier Avenue.
"How's it looking, George? Find anything useful yet?" The voice came from behind, heavy and worn. An older detective with a thick build and a permanently tired expression stepped closer, his tone low but edged with concern.
George didn't turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the screen as he answered, his voice tight with frustration. "Nothing concrete. Whoever this guy is, he's been dodging every camera in the area like he planned it. And his speed… it's not normal. Half the footage just shows blur—like an afterimage, not a person."
The older detective frowned, folding his arms as he stared at the looping footage. "Didn't expect someone like that to show up in our district. Things are already messy enough. Central District's got its own problem—someone calling themselves Batman has started killing people again. Makes you wonder what goes through their heads. Who gives them the right?"
George finally turned slightly, his expression grim. "Batman? That situation's not even close to this. At least over there, it's chaos with limits. The guy we're looking at…" He paused, eyes narrowing at a still frame on the screen. "Every time he shows up, someone dies. You could call it a perfect record—one hundred percent fatal."
The room fell quiet for a beat as that sank in. George leaned forward, zooming in on a paused image. A figure clad in a dark robe and mask stood with his back to the camera, arms extended casually. In each hand, he held a fully grown adult as if they weighed nothing.
"Hey, bosses… you notice something else here?"
A younger officer with dark skin leaned into the room, pointing toward another screen. George shifted over immediately, attention snapping to the new footage. The image froze on a narrow alley along Hallier Street, where a man pushed a cart slowly through the frame. There was nothing overtly suspicious about him at first glance, but something about the timing felt off.
"What's this?" George asked, stepping closer.
The officer quickly enlarged the image, enhancing it as much as the outdated system allowed. A blurry face came into view—indistinct, smudged, impossible to identify clearly.
George's jaw tightened. "Damn it. I've been saying for months we need to replace these cameras. What the hell is this supposed to be?" His voice rose, sharp enough to draw glances from nearby desks.
Another officer leaned over. "What's going on, George?"
He waved it off impatiently. "Possible suspect at the judge incident scene. Timing matches, but the image quality's garbage. Can't confirm anything."
The older detective turned to the officer at the console. "Trace him. Where'd he come from, and where was he heading?"
"Already pulled what we could," the officer replied quickly. "He shows up around Second Street and disappears near Third. Key intersections are Wall Street and Horst Street. Based on the cart… we're guessing his destination might be either the garbage disposal facility or the waste processing plant."
George nodded slowly, processing the information, when a sudden stir rippled through the station.
"I'll take it from here—wow… now that's something."
"Damn, look at her."
Voices rose in surprise and admiration, pulling George's attention away from the screens. He frowned, irritation flashing across his face as he followed the direction of the commotion.
A woman was walking in.
She moved with quiet confidence, her presence commanding attention without effort. Her features were delicate yet striking, her eyes large and clear, and her tall figure was wrapped neatly in a black coat that hinted at her form without revealing too much.
George blinked once, caught off guard before quickly regaining his composure. He straightened, smoothing over any trace of reaction as she approached.
No wonder the whole place just froze, he thought.
"Hello," she said, her voice calm and clear. "My name is Patrina."
George shook her hand firmly, his expression settling into professional focus. "Detective George. We'd like you to walk us through what happened that night, in as much detail as possible."
Patrina's gaze swept briefly across the gathered officers, her lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile. She didn't rush to answer, letting the silence stretch just enough to shift the room's energy before she spoke.
"I was pushed off a building that night," she said evenly. "I want the man responsible to face the consequences."
"…Understood," George replied after a brief pause. "We've already filed for his arrest. It shouldn't take long."
"How long is 'not long'?" Her tone sharpened slightly, though her expression remained composed. "You're not planning to go easy on him just because he's a senior executive at the Allen Group, are you?"
George's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. "Ms. Patrina, our immediate focus is on the individual who intervened and rescued you. We need any information you can provide about him."
"Do you even know who he is?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
George hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. "He's being referred to as a 'judge.' He's appeared twice so far, and both times ended in fatalities. You should understand why that concerns us."
"Terrifying?" Patrina echoed, a faint hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "When I was lying there, those three men felt far more terrifying."
The subtle deflection didn't go unnoticed. George's brows drew together, his expression darkening. They'd already tried questioning witnesses from the motorcycle gang incident, and every single one had shut them down. No one wanted to talk about the man who had killed those criminals. If anything, they seemed determined to protect him.
Patrina appeared no different.
"He's young," she added after a brief pause. "And he smelled faintly of alcohol."
That caught George off guard. His eyes sharpened instantly as he leaned in. "Anything else?"
She glanced toward the nearby monitors, her tone softening slightly. "If I could review the surveillance footage from that night, it might help me remember more details."
Within minutes, George and the officer guided her through the recorded footage. Clip after clip played across the screens as her eyes moved quickly, scanning each frame with careful attention. At one point, her gaze flicked over the blurred image of the cart-pushing man—the same one flagged as suspicious.
"So?" the officer asked eagerly, pointing at the screen. "Does this guy seem off to you?"
Patrina studied the image for a moment before shaking her head. "He noticed me before anything happened," she said calmly. "But he didn't try to help. Do you really think that kind of person would be your 'judge'?"
The simplicity of her logic hit harder than expected. Several officers shifted awkwardly, embarrassment creeping into their expressions. It was obvious in hindsight, but they'd been so focused on finding a lead that they'd overlooked something basic.
George exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. "Understood."
After finishing the review, he personally escorted Patrina out of the station. She paused briefly at the exit, turning back toward him.
"I've done everything I can to cooperate," she said. "I hope you arrest the man who tried to kill me soon."
"We will," George replied.
He watched her leave, his expression turning thoughtful as the doors closed behind her.
"What's with that look?" a younger officer asked, stepping up beside him with a grin. "Don't tell me you're already missing her."
George didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the empty doorway, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"I just find it strange," he said finally. "She fell from that height two days ago… and she looks completely fine."
The younger officer shrugged casually. "Maybe the fall wasn't that bad."
Before the words had fully settled, a sharp smack landed on the back of his head.
"Use your brain before you speak," George snapped, his patience clearly gone. "Now get back to work!"
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