The office was quieter than usual.
Not empty, just… slow.
Papers stacked, chairs half-occupied, low conversations blending into the background. It was the kind of morning that looked normal on the surface but carried something unfinished underneath.
Damian walked in without stopping.
His pace was steady, expression unreadable, eyes already scanning for what mattered and ignoring everything else. A few people greeted him. He didn't respond. Not out of arrogance, just disinterest.
He had work.
That was enough.
"New investigator, right?"
The voice came out of nowhere.
Too loud.
Too casual.
Damian stopped.
Slowly turned.
And there he was.
Leaning against a desk like he owned the place, one hand casually flipping a pen, the other tucked into his pocket. He looked younger. Not by much, but enough to stand out. His posture was relaxed, his expression worse.
Confident.
Unnecessarily confident.
"Vane," he said, pushing himself off the desk and walking closer. "Your assistant."
Damian didn't react immediately.
He just looked at him.
Measured.
Silent.
Vane didn't seem bothered.
"Not impressed?" he added with a faint grin. "That's fine. Most people take time."
"You talk too much," Damian said flatly.
Vane smiled wider.
"And you look like you don't talk at all. This is going to be fun."
Damian exhaled slowly, already feeling the start of a headache.
"Where's your file?" he asked.
Vane blinked once.
Then casually pointed behind him.
"Somewhere."
Damian's gaze didn't change.
"You don't know?"
"I know it exists," Vane replied. "That's enough for now."
A pause.
Damian stepped closer.
"From now on," he said calmly, "you don't 'guess'. You don't 'assume'. You follow instructions."
Vane tilted his head slightly, studying him.
"Already acting like a boss?"
"I am your boss."
"Technically."
Damian's eyes narrowed just slightly.
"That's not how this works," Vane continued, completely unfazed. "You don't get respect because of a badge. You earn it."
Silence.
A few people nearby had started listening without making it obvious.
This wasn't normal.
Not for a first meeting.
Damian took a step closer.
Close enough now.
"Then watch carefully," he said quietly. "You might learn something."
Vane didn't step back.
Didn't flinch.
Instead, he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice.
"Or you might."
That was enough.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then—
A file landed on the desk between them.
Vane picked it up casually.
"Relax," he said. "I was just checking if you break easily."
"I don't."
"Good."
Vane opened the file, flipping through it quickly, his expression shifting from playful to focused in seconds.
That caught Damian's attention.
He noticed it.
The change.
Subtle.
But real.
"You read fast," Damian said.
"I understand fast," Vane corrected.
A pause.
Then he stopped on one page.
"These aren't random," he said.
Damian didn't respond.
"Same pattern," Vane continued. "Different locations, same control. Whoever's doing this… they're not new."
Damian watched him closely now.
"You figured that out in seconds?"
Vane shrugged.
"You figured it out too. You just took longer to say it."
A faint silence followed.
Not tense.
Just… adjusting.
Damian reached for the file, closing it.
"Get ready," he said.
"For?"
"We're going out."
Vane's grin returned instantly.
"Finally."
Damian turned, already walking.
"Try not to slow me down."
Vane followed right behind him.
"No promises."
A small pause.
Then—
"You're going to regret saying that," Damian added.
Vane chuckled.
"Or you are. "
___
The crime scene was already sealed when Damian arrived.
Yellow tape stretched across the narrow alley, fluttering slightly in the cold London air. A small crowd had gathered at a distance, whispering, watching, trying to catch a glimpse of something they didn't understand.
The streetlamp above flickered.
The alley itself was tight, boxed in by old brick walls stained with years of rain and neglect. A place people passed through, not a place they stayed.
Perfect.
Damian stepped under the tape without asking.
Vane followed, quieter now, his usual ease shifting into something sharper.
"Location?" Damian asked.
"Camden, just off Hawley Road," Vane replied. "Low traffic after dark. Too many blind spots."
Damian didn't answer.
He was already looking at the body.
Male.
Early forties.
Lying on his back, but placed too neatly.
Too deliberately.
"Name?" Damian asked.
"Elliot Graves," Vane said, flipping open his notebook. "Freelance distributor. Small-time connections. Nothing that should've led to this."
Damian crouched beside the body.
The air smelled faintly metallic.
Rain mixed with blood.
There was a wound just below the ribcage.
Precise.
Clean.
No excessive blood around it.
"Cause of death?" Damian asked.
"Initial report says internal bleeding," Vane replied. "Single entry wound. No hesitation marks. No struggle."
Damian leaned closer, studying the angle.
"Professional," he murmured.
"Or practiced," Vane added.
Damian's eyes shifted to the wrists.
Faint marks.
Almost invisible.
"Restrained," he said.
"Briefly," Vane nodded. "No resistance. Either he couldn't… or he didn't think he needed to."
Damian's gaze moved to the face.
Still.
Frozen.
But not in fear.
Not panic.
Something else.
"That look," Damian said.
Vane crouched beside him, studying it.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "That's not terror."
A pause.
"That's the moment he understood."
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Then Damian stood.
"Timeline."
Vane flipped a page.
"Body found at 19:10 by a passerby. Victim last seen entering this alley around 18:30. No one saw him leave."
"CCTV?"
"Two cameras on the main road," Vane replied. "Both down during that exact window."
Damian glanced at him.
"Convenient."
"Intentional," Vane corrected.
Damian stepped back, scanning the alley again.
Limited exits.
Tight space.
Controlled angles.
"They chose this place," he said.
"Or they've used it before," Vane added.
Damian's eyes dropped to the ground.
There.
A faint drag mark.
Subtle.
Measured.
"The body was moved," he said.
"About a foot," Vane replied. "Positioning."
Damian exhaled slowly.
"This is staged."
"Partially," Vane said. "The death is real. The presentation is deliberate."
Damian turned toward the wall.
Something caught his attention.
A faint disturbance on the brick surface.
Like something had been there… and then wiped away.
"Light," he said.
Vane didn't hesitate. He raised his phone, the beam cutting through the dimness.
There it was.
A mark.
Scratched into the wall.
Incomplete.
Rough.
Then partially erased.
Damian stared at it.
"This means something."
"Or someone wanted it to," Vane replied.
"Seen anything like it?"
Vane shook his head. "Not exact. But similar intent."
Damian stepped back, thinking.
"Previous cases."
Vane was already flipping pages.
"Case one. Daniel Sykes. Found in an abandoned warehouse in Southwark. Blunt force trauma. Body cleaned before placement."
"Case two," he continued, "Omar Khalid. Docklands. Drowned, but lungs suggest he was unconscious before entering the water."
Damian nodded slightly.
"Killed first. Then staged."
"Exactly."
"Case three," Vane added, "Victor Hale. Underground parking in Westminster. Poisoned. No struggle. CCTV blackout."
Damian's jaw tightened slightly.
"Different methods."
"Same pattern," Vane said.
"Same control."
Silence.
Then—
"This isn't just a group," Damian said.
Vane looked at him.
"They're being directed."
"And the one directing them?" Vane asked.
Damian's gaze returned to the body.
Cold.
Precise.
Unnecessarily perfect.
"They enjoy this," he said quietly.
Vane didn't disagree.
"Not just killing," Damian continued. "Designing it."
A pause.
"Watching it unfold."
Vane smirked faintly.
"Sounds like someone who likes control."
"Not likes," Damian corrected. "Needs."
The word settled.
Heavier.
More accurate.
"Check Elliot Graves' connections," Damian said. "Calls, transactions, movement. Everything."
"Already started," Vane replied. "He overlaps with two previous victims."
Damian looked at him sharply.
"And you're telling me now?"
Vane shrugged.
"You didn't ask."
A pause.
Then—
"Say it properly," Damian said.
Vane flipped the page.
"Both victims had ties to minor distribution networks. Nothing major. But consistent contact patterns."
Damian's mind moved quickly.
"They're selecting targets."
"For a reason," Vane added.
"For what?"
Vane hesitated for a second.
Then—
"Testing."
Damian looked at him.
"Testing what?"
Vane met his gaze.
"Control."
Silence fell again.
The alley felt tighter now.
Like it was closing in.
Damian looked back at the body one last time.
Everything about it was intentional.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing random.
"They know we're watching," he said quietly.
Vane shook his head slightly.
"No."
A small pause.
"They want you to."
Damian straightened.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Sharp.
Controlled.
"Good."
Vane raised an eyebrow.
"That doesn't bother you?"
Damian turned, already stepping away.
"No," he said.
A pause.
"It means I'm close."
Vane watched him for a second.
Then followed.
And somewhere in the city,
hidden behind careful design and controlled chaos,
someone was already aware
that the game had started.
__
The drive back was quieter than the crime scene.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because neither of them wanted to say it first.
Damian kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the city lights passing in blurred streaks across the windshield. London at night had its own rhythm, alive but distant, like it was watching instead of existing.
Vane, on the other hand, had no interest in silence.
"This one's different," he said, leaning back in his seat. "Cleaner. More… personal."
Damian didn't respond.
Vane glanced at him sideways. "You always this talkative or am I just lucky?"
"Focus on the case," Damian said flatly.
"I am," Vane replied. "I'm just also focusing on the fact that you've walked into something that clearly knows you exist."
That made Damian's grip tighten slightly.
Barely noticeable.
"Everyone leaves traces," he said.
"Yeah," Vane smirked faintly. "But not everyone turns off CCTV across two blocks just to make a point."
A pause.
Then—
"You think it's a message?" Vane asked.
"I know it is."
"And you're still this calm?"
Damian glanced at him briefly.
"What do you want me to do?"
Vane shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe look slightly concerned about your life?"
"I'll do that when it's necessary."
Vane chuckled under his breath.
"Right. Of course you will."
The car slowed as Damian pulled up outside his building. Old structure, dim lighting, nothing remarkable from the outside. Just another place in the city.
"Get some rest," Damian said, unlocking the door.
Vane didn't move immediately.
"You sure about that?" he asked. "Because if someone's watching—"
"They won't act blindly," Damian cut him off. "Not after this."
Vane studied him for a second.
Then nodded slightly.
"Fine," he said, stepping out. "But if you die tonight, I'm taking your case notes."
Damian didn't react.
"Try not to slow me down tomorrow," he said instead.
Vane smirked.
"No promises."
The door shut.
And just like that, the noise was gone.
Damian stepped out of the car, the quiet settling around him again. The building entrance was dimly lit, the hallway inside even worse. He walked up the stairs instead of taking the lift, habit more than choice.
Each step echoed faintly.
Controlled.
Measured.
He reached his door.
Unlocked it.
Pushed it open—
And stopped.
The television was on.
A low static sound filled the room.
White noise flickering across the screen.
Damian didn't move for a second.
His eyes adjusted quickly, scanning everything.
Nothing out of place.
Nothing broken.
But something was wrong.
He stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind him without turning his back completely.
The TV volume wasn't loud.
Just enough to be heard.
Just enough to feel intentional.
His gaze shifted toward the security panel near the wall.
Offline.
All cameras.
Blank.
A pause.
Then he walked closer to the TV.
The static flickered once.
Twice.
Then—
It changed.
The screen darkened.
And for a brief second—
A silhouette appeared.
Not clear.
Not detailed.
Just a shape.
Standing.
Watching.
Then it disappeared.
Back to static.
Damian's expression didn't change.
But his attention sharpened completely.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
The sound cut through the room.
He didn't look at it immediately.
Just stood there.
Listening.
Nothing else moved.
No footsteps.
No doors.
No presence.
Only the faint hum of electricity.
Then he picked up his phone.
Unknown sender.
No number.
Just a message.
He opened it.
And for the first time that night—
something in the air shifted.
The message was short.
Simple.
But wrong in a way that stayed.
"You looked at the wall longer than the others."
A pause.
Another line appeared beneath it.
"That's why you're still alive."
Damian's jaw tightened slightly.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Recognition.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't empty threat.
This was observation.
Precise.
Calculated.
Another vibration.
One more message.
Slower this time.
Like it wanted him to read every word carefully.
"Turn around."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Still.
Damian didn't move immediately.
His grip on the phone tightened just slightly.
His eyes shifted.
Not quickly.
Not nervously.
Controlled.
Then—
He turned.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
Exactly as it should be.
The TV flickered again behind him.
Static.
Unchanged.
But the feeling didn't leave.
It stayed.
Like someone had been there.
Or worse—
like someone still was.
Damian looked back at his phone.
No more messages.
No trace.
Just silence.
A slow breath left him.
Then—
a faint, almost invisible smile touched his lips.
Sharp.
Cold.
"Good," he muttered under his breath.
Because now—
it wasn't just a case anymore.
It was personal.
___
A little girl sleeping, her dress torned bleeding between her legs. Her face pale tears are still on her cheeks.
"WAKE UP YOU WHORE! "
A HEAVY animalistic voice it was.The man rored and picked her up in his arms, she didn't scream it was her life after all she cried, teeth grazing her blood? Blood!
"Please... Don't... Blood... Blo" Elara woke up, another nightmare
"Fuck" She sighed. And she saw someone watching her from the door... Mark.
"What? " Ignoring her shiver Elara asked him.
"The police officer who is investigating our case... Is being followed by RAVENS "
Elara's eyes widened their biggest rival back again. A challenge.
"He is my prey we can't let him die. Put every eye on his safety"
Mark just nodded.
And here Elara gulped the full bottle of wine.
"He is mine... My prey I won't let him die not until I am giving the death to him "
____
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