Detective Nathan:

Chapter 1: A view under the bridge 

February 7th 2:11PM

New York County Supreme Court

The kid was somewhat found innocent. When he glances at me for a short second, I smile. I was relieved that the woman had been convicted. I sincerely hope she spends the remainder of her days in torment. I leave through the doors with the light shining directly into my eyes till I put on my sunglasses. After a long couple of days, I enter my car and relax. From my walkie talkie, I hear a beep. “Detective Nathan?” I pick up the talkie from the holder. “Officer Nathan” “Chief wants to see you. Twenty minutes tops” I used my sirens in order to drive through red lights and exceed the speed limit. As soon as I pump the accelerator, I almost smash into a couple vehicles. In five minutes, I arrived at the workplace. 

NYC precinct

I walk in and open the door.“You wanted to see me, Chief?” I ask as I sit down. Chief Sanders takes a familiar item from his draw. My badge. Sanders leans back in his chair, sighing. “Nathan.. For your bravery and quick thinking. You are now Detective Nathan: FBI” FBI? Holy shit.. I’ve fucking done it. F..B FUCKING.. I. When Sanders places my badge on the table, I grasp it. I remove a speck of dust off it. I tuck it away in my badge holster and leave. I smile as I walk back to my vehicle. I knew what I was going to do first. Tell my family. I get out of the car and step up to my parents. “Hey Mom, hey Dad. I uhm.. I did it. FBI, I told you I’d make it. I… I just want to say thank you. Both of you. I love you so much.” I wipe a little dirt off of their gravestones. I stepped away with a little grin on my face. I start my motor till my talkie beeps “All available units, a body has been discovered, 32nd Brooklyn. Under the Bridge” I speed up and leave scorched rubber tyre skids in my wake. I was able to be there in just a few minutes. I step out towards the crime scene.

32nd Brooklyn 

Fucking hell, there’s police tape everywhere, I remove my sunglasses once again since the sun became hidden. It was a great feeling of satisfaction. “What’s going on here?” I ask curiously. “See for yourself” one of the officers I don’t even fucking know respond. He raises his finger upon the bridge. I take a glance in the direction he was pointing. My expression was filled with suspicion. I noticed a man whose face was covered in a pig mask. The neck hung from the bridge. Blood that has been dried. Behind the torso, I observe large lettering written in some kind of red paint.

WATCH YOUR BACK DETECTIVE NATHAN

Mike Richway: 

Chapter 2: What I don’t deserve 

February 4th 7:42PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

It's been six months since what happened. Since I've... The young man was murdered. Since the killing of my brother. Since.. The tasks... Since Tim. I've now been diagnosed with PTSD. Every night, I dream about that moment. I'm sweating when I wake up. That is unimportant, what matters is the dinner tonight. Anna Brown comes to see me once a week. It always feels like an eternity. My phone privileges have been revoked, therefore I am unable to contact her. Fuck. On the broken ass table, I laid down tablecloths. Mr Cheau & I haven't always gotten along. Our last encounter had left him with a swollen head. When I hear a knock at my door, I rush to open it. Before giving me a rushed, unexpected kiss, a gorgeous creature stands in front of my eyes “Oh, haha. Hi” I say surprised. “Hey handsome” Anna responds with a giggle. I retrieve the pizza box she was holding & position it in my hands. It was placed on the table. I took a breath & paused as I opened the pizza box. You're aware... I'm having flashbacks of when I first opened Tim's packages. When I say it messed me up, I mean it. It messed with my psyche. I can't even open packages or boxes without remembering what happened six months ago. Anna approaches me from behind & rubs my back. “You ok Hun?” She asks in her beautiful voice. I shiver as I nod. When she opens the box, I stop sweating & regain control of my breathing. She sits me down as she kisses my forehead, I feel a lot better. She goes to get some plates from the kitchen. She returns, broken plates strewn over the table. As she gets her slice of pizza, I grab mine. Pepperoni. We consume. On her Spotify, she enjoys jazz music. “Mike, can I ask you a question?” Anna asks in stress. She’s been asking questions about Tim & the tasks. I’m getting sick of it. “Not tonight babe” I responded. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?” She insists, “BECAUSE I DON’T. IT HAPPENED, I’M TRYING TO RECOVER. YOU DO THIS EVERY WEEK. CAN WE JUST HAVE ONE DAY WITHOUT TALKING ABOU….” Before I could finish, Anna kisses me, instantly calming me down. She maintains contact. We start making out, which is a strange thing to do after screaming but... It was a good feeling. We both get up while still making out. Both of us collapse into the bed. I'm not sure what occurred after that. I awoke hoping to find Anna. She wasn't there. We didn't... Did we have sex? No.. Of course not… Did we? 7:58AM I see on the clock next to my pillow. Shit, I've fallen asleep. My apartment is still a disaster. Mr Cheau & I are discussing how to clean up this property. I put on my shirt & proceed to my living room. On the kitchen counter, I notice a card. “You fell asleep, maybe next week. Love you” The note Anna left was sweet but sad. Her cutely drawn winky face at the end gave me butterflies. I was probably exhausted. I make my way from my room to Mr Cheau, who, it should be noted, is caring for his 14 year old daughter. “Hey Mr Cheau” I contemplate, he smiles as he peers at me. His daughter approaches & greets me with a fist bump. Victoria Cheau. She's a lovely young lady. “Do you need any help?” I query. “No, Micheal. Thank you” Cheau responds politely. I return to my room with a nod. The good news is that my television finally has sound. I don't have to pay attention to the subtitles. Even so, I have to manually change the stations.. Oh well. There isn't much on today, there isn't much on ever. Back To The Future, one of my favourite movies, was playing. After the talk of Marty’s Mother.. Throughout the entire film, mind you.. I was concerned about my Mother's well being. I'm sure she's alright. She's in good hands. I feel a bit of pain.. Like an itching of the tracking device I have wrapped around my leg. It sucks to be unable to scratch it but… It’ll go away soon.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 3: An unchained melody 

February 6th 2:10AM

Abandoned newspaper factory 

“Don’t move!” I instruct the man standing in front of the beaten women. Her wounds are deep and dark. Bleeding profusely. When I squint around, I observe another lady... Arms crossed, Just... Standing there. Smiling. I start noticing an uncuffed, black metal chain dangling from the ceiling. “Detective Nathan” the lady shouts across the room, “So good to finally see you in person” she continues. How the fuck does she know me? “GET DOWN AND PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS BEHIND YOUR…” She does it before I can even finish the phrase. “YOU TOO!” To the other man in the room, I shout. As he kneels down to the helpless woman, he ignores me. I perceive they have a deep bond, hence I point my firearm towards the standing lady. Still grinning. I take a step towards the shattered woman, who is being helped by the young man. I can hear distant sirens getting closer. Fuck, Detective Peterson. My weapon remains pointed at the young lady. I'm getting ready for a performance. For a brief period, there were no sirens, no sound, nothing. From behind me, I hear clanking tins sliding towards me. Smoke is abruptly exploding. I hear the team smashing through the roof at that point. Yelling “GET DOWN!” “HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!” “DON’T MAKE ME FUCKING SHOOT YOU!” That sort of thing. I drop down on my knees with a blank expression on my face, noticing green lasers shooting across the room and SWAT handcuffing me, removing me from the room. I hear the young man cry as I leave the room. “JUST FUCKING HELP HER.. SHE’S DYING!” I also witnessed the lady being handcuffed before being carried away by the smoke… It's been about an hour. The kid and I wrapped up with tin foil blankets. His sobs halt for a moment before continuing. “Her heart stopped they said. Low chance she could survive after the amount of blood loss” He asserts as he starts weeping again. By placing my hand over his, I try to console him. I rise from my seat to speak with Chief Sanders. “What the fuck Nathan. You were off the case, I hope you know you’re off the force too. Your divorced wife and kids are gonna hear about this” You don't drag my ex wife or kids into this, I wanted to strike him in the face. I couldn't, maybe because I was too afraid and broken. I peel off my tin foiled sheet and hurl it on the ground. “Good luck with your life faggot” Peterson acknowledges before leaving the scene. I swivel to approach him, my hand clenched. Peterson seems oblivious to my reaction, his arrogant eyes fixed on his tablet. “Maybe you can tell your kids that their father got kicked off the team.. You can also tell Marrisa that she made the right decision to leave you for a much more attractive, stronger, better man” Peterson continues as he hints up to me. I'm filled with rage. Before hitting him, I offer him a grin and a scoff. He was knocked out, his mouth was gushing with blood. I take a peek around, I'm surrounded by eyes staring right at me. What I've done. I don't give a fuck, I'm proud of it. I walk away with a satisfied smirk on my face. I jump into my car and gaze back in my rearview mirror. Seeing Mike suffocate in his grief. I feel pain for the guy. I activate my siren and return home. Nearly tearing the concrete off the street.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 4: Déjà vu

February 5th 10:38AM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

Fuck, this place is so boring. Nothing exciting has happened in a long time. It's more pleasant to be in a hospital bed than this. Why can’t those two lesbians come back? That was exciting. Almost died but... Exciting. I rise from my sweaty leather couch. Skin ripping away. Before I can get to my bathroom to take a shower in the grey water, I see something in the oven. What the fuck is in there? I never use that oven. With fear, I tread cautiously. I take hold of the oven's handle. It's on the verge of snapping. When it came crashing down. With a loud, rusty thud, it nearly smashed the glass. I was more concerned with the object on the inside. I take the small yet weighty object. A box? No, no, no. Not again. I fling the box onto the table, leaving a sweaty handprint on the surface. I was scared. I was afraid I'd have to do it all over again. Follow my lead from six months ago. The top of this box had a strung tie to the bottom of it. I begin to untangle it in a shaken manner. Lifting the lid slowly. Fuck… Another red envelope. This… It's not Tim, is it? Isn't he still in a mental institution? Right? An iPhone X was placed on top of the packet. The identical one Tim had, with a weapon next to it…  A revolver. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I open the parcel & scrutinize it. It has a non - perfect circle on it... It's the same as the last one. I turn it carefully & expose it. Inverting the packet till the contents fall out. A fucking note & another bullet. This can't be happening. WAKE UP... WAKE UP... WAKE UP... WAKE UP... WAKE UP... I pull up the white note with the marker lettering on it. “Phone - +1 499 048 5553” I knew what was coming.. Tim’s voice. That fucking cunt got away with it. He could torture me even more. I take out the phone & go to the home screen. Mom? Like Tim pretended to be, she was hanging by her hands. There's blood all over her body. She was dressed in a torn white tank top. My stomach is twisting inside out. I'm about puke. There was no passcode on the phone. So, before dialling the number, it was quite simple to get through. I have a peek at the available apps. Photos, emails, messages, other phone numbers are all available. None of them have had any luck. This phone has been completely wiped clean. I start dialling the number, making loud beeps with each touch. My sweat was causing the phone to malfunction. A different number is being pressed. Before I could continue, I had to erase a dial. Once I’ve dialled the number. I start to feel tense. My heart is pumping faster & faster. To confirm the call, I press the lime colored button. I wait for a few rings to pass. I hear a faint buzzing... Then… There was a sudden pause in breathing. “Hello Michael Richway. The past six months has not been easy on you. Your best friend Tim Allan becoming a fraud. Making you kill an innocent man and your brother. Just to find out that he was testing you.. For loyalty. Today, we see if you still have what it takes to complete these newly made tasks. To prove I’m not lying, switch to FaceTime. I believe you have many questions where your mother is” The voice has been completely dismantled. It wasn't as deep as Tim's. It was more obnoxious. Each word has a distinct tone to it. I get a FaceTime request. I reluctantly accept. I see Mom, exactly as she appears in the photograph. “Micheal.. Is that you honey? Micheal, please help me.” Her tone... So fucked up. Mom wouldn’t do what Tim did. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't speak. I had become immobile. “So Michael, will you fight again for your mother? I’ve given you instructions and the location for your first task..” A text comes in from the top of the phone as soon as they inform. “Better hurry, time is running out” Before hanging up, the voice continues. I'm about to pass out. The world is getting darker & closer to crushing me. I try looking at the message. “Times Square - Equipment near dead end alley near the red stairs - Vandalise parade” Vandalise parade? The fuck does that even mean? Is it necessary for me to meddle in their goals & dreams? What the fuck? From the kitchen, I take an old rusted yet razor sharp knife. I start sawing through the leather belt that has been looped around my leg. After a few minutes, I was able to completely cut it off. I hesitated to grab the revolver but managed & put it in my pants once again.. Such an unpleasant rush of nostalgia. I grab my keys & my black, fabric beanie. Along with my mask & head out the door. Mr Cheau may see me leaving the building, I realised. I cast a glance to my right. A fire escape that has never been utilised. Whatever it takes to avoid being caught. I quietly latch my door & creep up to escape. I sprang open with a blast of fresh air. Fuck… Six months without this? Never again will I overlook the need of oxygen. With a mask covering my face & a beanie over my head hiding my hair, I continue walking towards Times Square. looking about, taking in my surroundings.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 5: What I was trained for

February 6th 2:07AM

Abandoned newspaper factory 

I approach the open door marked with a purple rectangle. I moved ahead, pointing my pistol forwards. It was an open space with damaged machinery and a lot of dust strewn everywhere. I was still wary, though, since I could hear screams from the other side of the building. Far from where I am. I scan around and see a trail of blood, which I follow. It might take me to the bastard. I hear a variety of voices, all with various tones and emotions. As a result of the dust getting into my system, I cough. “Fuck that’s a lot of blood” I spoke to myself in a hushed tone. I touch it, identifying if it’s still wet. I go down on my knees. Nope, it's been at least two days. This building is squeaking with age. The pipes are about to explode. Rats and other animals catch my attention out of the corner of my eye. Across the room, I glimpse at some large lettering.

HURRY DETECTIVE 

I'm sure the fucker knew I'd show here. Fuck this shit. Many emotions and doubts race through my mind. As I go on, the shouting grows louder and louder. As I move closer, it becomes darker, putting my flashlight from my pocket into my mouth really is helpful. I may appear stupid but it is beneficial. Metal is all I can taste and dust is all I can smell. What a fantastic combination. I'm always getting shit in my eye. I'm going to have to deal with it. As I progress, more writing is left.

LIVE     LEARN     FORGIVE    FORGET

What the fuck does that even mean? Clearly, it wasn't meant for me. The stench of blood is repulsive. I wasn't sure if the writing was made of blood or paint. A set of metal stairs catch my eye. A few steps are broken. There are also a few old tractors that haven't been used in years. I make my way to the rickety and noisy stairwell. I climb to the top of the building, aiming my firearm, waiting for anything to happen. The cries are echoed all throughout the place. The blood trail continues past a front door. I gather up my energy as I ready for a kick. I'm sure I'll be in agony but... It's a necessary aspect of the job. I open the door with unusual ease. I can hear a cable snapping. Reaction time is a component of training. Detecting a weapon near to the entrance, I quickly slide out of the way to the rail. My ears were crushed by a deafening boom. I can only hear ringing. I'm seeing double. It hadn't been long since I regained my senses. I've gone through a lot worse in my life. Sweat started pouring down to the floor right away. I double check that there aren't any additional traps. A shotgun in the room's centre. Wire on the trigger. Fuck, I was on the verge of being killed. I cautiously enter the area, checking for the possibility of an axe swinging down and striking my chest or something. All clear. I see a shadow of three individuals to my right, two on the ground and one leaning on a wooden table. “Don’t move!” I instruct the man in front of the beaten lady.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 6: God bless America 

February 5th 12:11PM

Times Square

Times Square.. My favourite place in the entire city of New York. The city that never sleeps. I reach the red stairwell. I'm looking for a red circle. I reach the last step & gaze out across Times Square. Fuck.. The American parade is packed. Why the fuck do you need an America parade? It's just a fucking country. This isn't essential right now... Even with the mask & the beanie, I'm hoping no one recognises me. I take a closer look around & spot police. Shit, shit, shit.  I turn my stare to an alleyway where crimson spray paint has been splattered. Fuck yes. I dash over to it. stumbling & colliding with others, “Watch it retard” A big motorcyclist with a white beard remarks. Fuck off, dick. I pass by more individuals waving the American flag. I walk to the back of the alley & see a large box. I take a quick check around to make sure no one is looking. I'm okay. I go down on my knees & open the kit. A mask, black spray paint & a smoke grenade. The mask isn’t the same as a surgeon's mask. It’s one of those from 1620. Creepy as fuck. Like a fucking eagle. After removing the items, a note is spotted. “Use grenade wisely” Goddamn it. I can't believe I'm doing this shit all over again. At the very least, it's a lot less difficult than shooting someone. I put on the mask & go out into the public with the grenade & spray can in my pocket. The audience has come to a halt,  a stage with microphones has been set up. Is this something I'll have to do in front of everyone? Is everyone gonna look at me? I observe a sign, “Speak free” Fuck, fuck, fuck. My hands are shaking. “Are you alright sweetheart?” An elderly woman tells me. She reminds me a lot of Mom. “Yes… Thank you” I reply, scared, “Don’t worry sweetheart. It’s ok to feel nervous before you speak.. You are speaking right?” How the fuck does she not question the mask? This is fucking crazy. Does she think  that this is normal? Wearing a plague mask? As I make my way up to the stage, I gently agree with her. I'm surrounded with applause & cheering. Then there was silence. There was no sound at all. Even the cops have their eyes on me. Shit. I have the impression that I am the president of the United States. After striking the microphone with the mask's beak, I placed it near my mouth. “Hel.. Hello. I’m… I don’t usually do these sort of things. Speaking out in public… But today is a good day. A good day to be free…” As I talk, the crowd continues to applaud. I'm shaking the spray paint behind the podium violently as I speak. “A good day to be alive.. A good day to live…” Fuck.. Here it goes. “All I gotta say is… God bless America.” Following those remarks, I sprayed swastikas on the American flag in the background. I have no nerves to hold me back. People are booing & yelling. I also hear some clapping & laughter. Cunts. A gunshot slashes through the beak of my mask just as I'm about to fully pivot back to my previous posture. Holy shit.  Other people's guns are making more clicks. They're going to fire. I detonate the smoke grenade & vanish. I'm having a Batman moment. Does that cool smoke thing. I leap across the stage & hear gunshots but they all miss me. They believe I'm still up there. I sprint as quickly as I can. I'm rushing through traffic, with honks piercing my ears. When I turn back, I find an officer gazing at me. He isn’t pursuing me? The smoke most likely blinded him. I see him return, his eyes rubbing.

Detective Nathan: 

Chapter 7: Scalpels and buzzsaws

February 6th 1:29AM

New York City Mortuary

The New York City Mortuary… Fucking hate this place. Makes me sick to my stomach. Every time I hear it, I want to puke. Upon entering the room, I mentally prepare for the worst. Today, there is just one physician. Normally, there are two or three but not today. “What’ve we got?” Before being assaulted by the stench of rotting flesh, I ponder. I use my finger to cover my nose. Fuck it stinks. “Jack Ortiz, 37 year old man, what I’ve made out of his state.. Bullet through the heart” the doctor replies. “And you say he was found at the front door of this place?” “Fucking kids were screaming. I go out to see what was wrong and find this guy dead” He says confused. “Right.. Lets get him opened up” I say this as I brace myself for a barrage of gore. Without hesitation, the doc takes one of those saws and cuts the guy's scalp off. Fuck.. The breaking of bones is absolutely awful. I avert my attention. The fractures are still audible to me. The humming came to a halt. I couldn't look, though. I overhear the surgeon putting Jack's brain on the scale. “Hm.. 2kgs” he declares. Don't fucking explain the weight to me. “Alrighty.. Now his chest, where the bullet shot” He continues. I stiffen my muscles in disdain when I hear the identical buzzsaw. I hear more cracking, how could people grow up and decide, ‘Yeah, I want to cut people open for a living?’ It's disgusting. The roaring has subsided. I had the courtesy to look and it wasn't quite as awful as I had imagined. However, it was still not satisfactory. I examine Jack's heart, where the bullet is lodged. The specialist separates the rib cage from each end. I was on the verge of fainting. His organs were all black. The suregon takes the man's blackened heart, making a fucking disgusting noise. With ease, he takes tweezers and plucks the bullet out. He places it on the tray. “Detective, There’s something else in here” The physician clarifies. Something else than a bullet? The fuck? The doc hands me a rolled up piece of paper from the heart. When I indicate that I'm in need of something to cover my hands, he apologises and offers me a pair of rubber, blue gloves. I unfold the letter and carefully read it. “Abandoned newspaper factory - 5th” Fuck.. There's the piece of shit. I take my gloves off and walk to my car. The doc was genuinely worried. Without thinking, I stomp my foot on the gas pedal and drive straight to the killer's hideout.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 8: A monthly visit

February 5th 1:41PM

825 Harlem 

It's not simple to go from Times Square to Queens. Don't worry, we're about there. I'm drenched with sweat. Running probably helped me lose four pounds. I knew that task was far too easy for me. Fucker almost got me killed. I've taken a trip down memory lane. 825 Harlem. The stench of the abandoned toilet factory is more worse than before. What if Tim had my Mother there? I'm going to murder that fuckhead. I run over, the stench becoming increasingly unbearable. As I passed through the rear, the purple rectangle was still smeared on the door. I leap over & race upstairs, where I had been six months ago. I sprint as quickly as I can to the location where I found Tim. I hurry through the door & ready myself for Tim.. But there was no such luck. The fucker is nowhere to be found. I'm fast puffing. Shit. I'm starting to feel ill. PTSD is starting to take hold. Tim is the only thing I see standing in that stupid spot. Big writing is open behind me as I walk back home.

LIGHTNING NEVER STRIKES IN THE SAME PLACE TWICE MICHEAL 

Tim had anticipated my arrival. “FUCK YOU!” I shriek. I'm letting go of my rage. In a fit of anger, I bolt out the door & race back to my flat. 

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

You know how a few minutes can feel like an eternity. As I walk around the corner from my apartment, I notice a police car parked on the street. Shit. No, no, no. I completely forgot about it. It was time for a checkup today. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I make my way to the backside & up the rusted ladder to my room. I attempted to open the window before realising it was locked. “Fuck.. No, no” I cry in agony. So, what do I do now? It's safe to assume that punching the glass didn't go well. Instead of breaking a knuckle, I kicked the glass. Finally, the window was shattered. As I crawl through the glass, it stabs my arm. My arm dripping blood all over the marble floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,  I speed into the living room to retrieve my tracker. I returned the gun's box to the oven. Returning to my room, I close the curtains & pretend to sleep. Lying in my blood. It's drizzly. As two men enter my house, I close my eyes. “Mike?” From the living room, I hear. They open my door & mistakenly believe I'm asleep. “Asshole is sleeping.” Asshole? Fuck you, you fucking pig. They go through my drawers & wardrobe. They check the other rooms before leaving. They didn't try to wake me up or remove the blanket covering my blood soaked bed, which was a good thing. The front door shuts behind me. They've finally gone. Cunts. I rush to the restroom. I'm covering my severe gash with a cloth. Fuck, it hurts. I search my place for bandages. Nothing turned up, so I tried harder & harder. I start to worry, will I bleed to death? I look in the bathroom cabinet. Thank you, God. I'm carrying bandages. Fuck. I wrap the bandage over my arm & apply a bandaid to keep it in place. Mike survives another day, fuck yeah. I sit between the cracks in my leather sofa to relax, I feel something scratchy & a little sharp. I look for it. I locate it & remove it from the lodge... Shit, shit, shit. While I was away, Fucker stuffed the blue envelope into my sofa. Fuck. I easily open it & come upon the note. “Call - 2:01PM” According to the message. Oh fuck, I forgot to put the box out of the oven. I take out the phone & check the time. 2:07PM & three missed calls, fuck. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I recall the number. I was hoping Tim would pick up the phone. Ringing, ringing, fucking pick up. A click may be heard. “A bit late wouldn’t you say Micheal. Don’t worry, I forgive you. You made a very unforgettable show at Times Square. Round of applause to you. This next task is one of my personal favourites…” The sick fuck has favourite tasks? Fuck.. “Maybe have a look in the microwave before I explain the task Micheal.” I peek at the microwave & find something inside as the voice advises. When I open the microwave, I see a wrapped bundle. A  C4? A fucking C4? What am I going to do with this? “What the fuck is the task?” I request, “Well Michael, Dave & Buster’s seems to be pretty busy on 11th in Brooklyn… Boom goes the dynamite.. But don’t worry, it’s only a little explosion, I promise. No less than 10cm” The phone is disconnected. No, no, no Fuck, I'm not killing children. I guess I'll simply have to wait a few hours for the next task. I guess I'll simply watch TV to pass the time. I switch the channels manually to turn on Fox News... Great. “The parade was interrupted by a man in a 1619 plague mask, the man drew swastikas across the American flag, before deploying a smoke grenade and making a fascinating escape..” That's it for the television. I turn it off. I make the decision to see Mr Cheau & check how he & his daughter are doing. I go downstairs to study Mr Cheau as he demonstrates origami to his daughter. It's cool to do origami. “Hey guys, origami huh?” “Yeah, Dad’s teaching me” Victoria answers, “She awful” Mr Cheau adds, giggling. Victoria & I both laugh. They start speaking in their native tongue. “邁克是攻擊你的那個人嗎?” Victoria starts. I don't comprehend. “這不是他的錯.. 故事結束” Cheau replies in a grounded tone. If I couldn't understand them for the rest of the day, I decide to leave. I make my way to my room. I'm at a loss on what to do. I decided to step outdoors onto my terrace & take in the splendour of New York. I sat for a few minutes, counting the planes that flew over. This time, I'm hoping none of them will smash into the Empire State Building. I hear a small notification from Tim’s iPhone, which I dismiss. Tim is attempting to irritate me into doing a task. When a slew of alerts arrived, I became even more anxious. “Unknown caller sent a photo” Fuck, it's just a picture, it’s just a picture. I fumble with it & open it in a hurry. It’s Anna, Her neck has been slashed. Her eyes were filled with terror. I throw the phone down & scream hysterically. Tim had tracked her down. Nooooo! Fuck. Fuck. Before I hear ringing from the iPhone X, I'm on my knees weeping. With tears in my eyes. I answer the call “You refuse to do a task Micheal, this is what happens. So I would recommend completing these tasks before the same thing happens to your Mother. First and last warning.” I'm left enraged once the phone hangs up. I sprint to the back of the flat, grabbing the C4 & heading towards the arcade.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 9: Off the case

February 6th 12:24AM

NYC precinct

“YOU’VE MADE NO PROGRESS WHATSOEVER SINCE YOU WERE ASSIGNED THIS CASE.. YOU’RE OFF!” Sanders yells angrily. What the fuck? off the case? I'm so close. I had Tim Allan in my hands and I was following up on leads. “What?” I inquest. “DO YOU WANT ME TO REPEAT IT!?” Sanders is still yelling. I quiet down. Sanders starts looking at files on his computer, which may as well be broken at this point. Ignoring me, “No fuck that, I’m about to crack the case and you think you can just kick me off? Fuck.. You” With remorse, I remark. Sanders is staring me down with a murderous expression. “Fine, hand in your badge.” My badge? No, no, no, fuck. Why did I feel compelled to speak? “NOW!” Sanders screeches. In a fit of rage, I tear off my badge, toss it on his desk as I storm out. I knew I could have solved this case, fucking bastard. All I need is some time. “See you around.. PAL” In a mocking tone, Peterson adds. I cautiously approach him, preparing to punch him in the face until one of the new rookies intervenes. “He’s not worth it” I follow that advice and proceed to my vehicle. Instead of the talkie, I get a call on my phone. Actually, it startled me. I pick up, “Detective Nathan” I answer, “Hey Nathan, a body has been discovered around the front of the New York City Mortuary on 2nd, you might want to take a look.” As I drive on, I hang up the phone. This has nothing to do with the Richway case but it's better than nothing, right?

Mike Richway:

Chapter 10: Jackpot

February 5th 3:09PM

Dave & Buster’s

Scamming machines, rigged games & a fucking C4 in my jacket. I'm fucked. I'm fucked! There are a lot of kids here, as well as a lot of parents. It's only 10cm, so don't be concerned Mike. All I have to do now is place it near a game that no one plays. I have a look around. The kids are crammed into Stacker and Milk jug toss is equally congested. Fuck! Fucking packed with Pop The Lock, Air Hockey, Laser Tag and Down The Clown. As if I'm not suspicious enough already. Sweating. A couple of parents give me a suspicious look, as if I'm a paedophile. I can't say I blame them. I can't believe I'm actually doing this... For my Mother's sake, it's possible that I'll kill children today. This is fucking insane. I'm focusing on a certain game... Gold Fishing. Nobody plays that game, which is great. I don't want to leave the bomb out in the open. I'll place it in the back of the machine. I keep repeating to myself, "It's just 10cm." But what if a child approaches the game & it blows up? Fuck. Going into the rear & planting it is a huge risk for me. It should take no more than 5 minutes for the bomb to go off. “Excuse me sir? What are you doing?” An employee understandably inquests. “Oh um, I think a ball fell down here” With hesitation, I respond. He goes away with a bow. That was really fucking close. Okay, there are 4 minutes & 42 seconds remaining. I go through the arcade, ostensibly playing the rigged game. I can't just walk away when a tiny explosion occurs. I'll adopt a more suspicious demeanour. There are 3 minutes & 44 seconds left & that region is completely vacant. Good. My assumption is that I'm listening to parents singing happy birthday to a toddler. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday dear…” The bomb goes off before they complete the song. A lot more than 10 centimetres. I'm slammed into the glass counter after being thrown back with great force. I slowly recover awareness, my ears ringing. Tim told a lie. The fucking cunt lied. 10cm? That was a distance of at least 6 metres. I saw panicked kids crying & dead children. Their organs were strewn about the room. I puke on the carpeted floor. The image is revolting. Kids sobbing to their Moms as they crawl with one arm outstretched & intestines hanging out. I would not have done it if I had known the bomb was this large. I see children's faces split in half. As their children suffer, I see parents holding their kids in their arms. I rush through the exit. Well… Limped to the exit. I've had to get back home. I can hear sirens coming from all directions. Mike, just run, RUN!

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 11: Out of my hands

February 5th 10:03PM

NYC mental institution 

I'm bordered by fucking insane people. All of them are making fucking animal noises. One of them grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall. I grab the extinguisher and spray it on the other convicts as the inmate tries to smash my face. They get off me and I'm required to act in self defence. Swinging the fire extinguisher at them. The wall is splattered with blood. I reclaim my weapon and begin shooting their legs. Okay, I don't enjoy killing people. I just strike them in a crucial spot. For the time being, they all appear to be down. I continue my pursuit. The lights in the corridors are flickering. I'm waiting for another insane motherfucker to assault me. Outside the facility, I hear distant sirens. It's a good thing I have backup now. From down the hall, I hear an awful skid. The sole of someone's shoe skids over the floor. I am ready to go around the corner before being stabbed in the hip with a scalpel. With my firearm, I swing my gun into the man’s head, nearly knocking him out. I remove the scalpel from my hip. It ached like fuck. However It was simple for me. My hand is covered with blood. All of a sudden, I'm shivering. Cold. The fucker tries to stand up before being booted in the stomach. Knocking him down again. I'm aware of the prisoner. I was on that case six months ago, Tim Allan. Tim is lying on his back, grabbing the scalpel from the floor and attempting to stab me in the leg before I knock it out of his hands. I continuously beat him, hoping to knock him out for a few hours at the very least. This is a difficult one. With two blows, I typically knock them out. He's not going down without a fight. Unexpectedly, I'm kicked in the chest before the fatal strike. It was a tough kick. Before I can get up, I'm pushed down and see Tim vanish. No way, no. I had him under my control. I examine every nook and cranny of every room in the building. Nowhere. Fuck! I concentrate on a door that is wide open, they must have escaped via it. Fuck! To report to Chief Sanders, I’ll return to the precinct. I'm sure I'll come to regret it. I mean, it can't be that awful, can it? It's not like he'll remove me from the case.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 12: In a homeless house

February 5th 4:10PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

I return home via the shattered glass window.  Smoke poured down my cheeks & into my lungs. I'm coughing nonstop. My door is wide open, my blanket is off my bed. Is there a robber in the building? “Hello?” I shakenly inquired. With mistrust, I peered into my living room. It's Mr Cheau. Sitting on my couch, my tracking device in hand, watching the arcade explosion on TV. “Shit” I talk softly to myself. Mr Cheau is concerned since he knows I've been leaving the flat. “You been out have you?” Cheau expresses his grief. I'm absolutely deafeningly quiet. I'm at a loss for words. “You know you on house arrest. You can’t be out” Cheau goes on. As I comprehend, I down my head slowly. I'm not going to inform Cheau about the tasks. He's an elderly gentleman with high blood pressure. He continues to lecture me on how it's bad to leave the building when under house arrest. The iPhone goes off with a ding. “Unknown number sent a message” I pushed my finger with little hesitation, zoning out from Cheau. I take a look. It was me, lying down. Right before I got the photo of Anna, dead. On the video, you can see my reaction. There is no sound. I proceed to the location of the filming. “I got you, you cunt” I speak gently. I speed out the door & head toward the shattered structure. There hasn't been anyone in that building for decades. As I flee out of the room & into the street, Mr Cheau stops talking. The cars spun off the road as a result of my astonishment. "Sorry!" I shout

Abandoned shelter

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I walk into the crumbled structure. I'm going to the spiral staircase till I can see my floor. It didn't take long for me to achieve the level. Down the floor, I detect flames emanating from a barrel. “Tim! Come out you bastard…. Let go of my Mother!” It's completely silent. I can hear the fire crackling because it's so still. “TIM!?” I roar twice as loud. I sense footsteps behind me & try to turn around before getting knocked in the popliteal fossa. If you didn't know, the back of the knee. My leg is pressed against the ground before being bashed in the face with a rusted ripe. Blood was spitting out. I'm shocked there were no missing teeth. When I look up, I saw a man with long white hair & a beard. He was clearly a homeless person. “What did I tell you if you fucked with us again” Exclaimed the man. Another group of destitute, strong males emerged from around the corner. One of them reaches into the fire barrel & pulls out a wooden stick, still spreading with fire. “Woah, no, no, no, no” I state that with a cowardly tone. There are four of them, they're largely made up of muscle. Expect the one who doesn't have any teeth. One of them.... is well…  Black. One has a scar over his eye. I've already mentioned the one with the long white hair. They grab my arm from behind, almost ripping it off. The individual with the blazing wood steadily burns it on my arm. I shriek as though I’m rotting in hell. “FUCK YOU!” “Wait!” Asserts the long haired one. The other stranger removed the wood from my arm. “I don’t recognise this one, are you with 2K?” 2K? What the fuck is 2K? “What? What the fuck are you talking about” As the ache in my arm worsens, I enquire. “Fuck, let him go” He orders. I'm no longer restrained. My arm was wrapped in old bandages by the one with no teeth. Blood was smeared all over it. “Sorry, we get these kids killing us one by one” The white haired giant expressed apologetically. I’m in critical pain. “I’m Randy, the one with no teeth is Rick, the one with the scar is Chuck & the big…. Black one is Teddy” Randy paused before using the word ‘black.' “What the fuck is 2K?” I question. “A group of kids. Fucking dirty cunts, they attack us, usually daily. Believe it or not, we used to have a lot more people” Fuck, the agony has subsided. I didn't know where to begin when it came to small talk. “Ummm, where do you keep the bodies?” I awkwardly add, “We take advantage of the free food” Chuck explains. Ughh, fuck, Cannibals, shit. I have a terrified expression on my face as I look at them. “What would you do if you had no food for a week?” Teddy stated emphatically. His voice seemed unreal since it was so deep. Randy takes my hands in his & effortlessly raises me up. Jesus Christ, he’s got a good grasp on things. “You probably should head back to your apartment bud” Chuck conveys friendly. “How do you know… You know what, don’t even answer that. Have a good day” Before I pose the enquiry, I begin heading to the stairwell. “Did you see someone here earlier?” I ask rushingly. “Well, 2K attacked us a few hours before you came along” Chuck responds right away, “Yeah, one of them were filming you. On that balcony there” Teddy begins, pointing to my balcony. “Did you get a face?” I spit. I didn’t mean to yell. “No, they were wearing a hood” Teddy continues to respond to the question. He has a very strong New York accent. I'm finished. As I walk out of the building, I gently sigh. Tim has already fled. I was going to step out, breathing fresh air when I heard rapid footsteps approaching from behind me. I take a short glance back... Charlie? My brother is still alive? His face was covered with stitches. I'm in a muddled state. I'm unable to move. He smiles as he approaches me. “Hey, are you alright? Hey, HEY!” Before I recover control of my body, he shouts. It was just Rick, oh fuck. PTSD is something I despise. In a long time, I haven't thought about my brother. Maybe it's because Rick has the appearance of an addict. “The guy in the hood dropped this… It’s no use to us, maybe it’s something to do with you” Rick reaches into his pocket & pulls out a green envelope. It's all folded up. The packet has already been opened. It's a task, fuck. The sketched triangle on it was enough for me to figure it out. I softly grab it from his grasp. He strikes me on the arm with a strong blow & flees. I'm on the verge of collapsing. I take a stroll inside the flat, keeping an eye out for vehicles. When I opened the two doors, Mr Cheau looked at me with disdain. As I rush to my room, I cast a peek at him. I shut the door & re - open the package. I take a note & a bullet from the pouch. Shit, shit, shit. “Phone - +1 522 090 1749” I take out the revolver & toss the bullet into the spinning thing that pops out of the side. I'm not a gun expert. I just know they shoot & murder people. I search the interior of the packet for any more contents. Nothing is a good thing. I toss the envelope to the ground. I use the iPhone X to dial the number… The fucking bastard picks up before the first ring. “Hello Michael…”

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 13: Insanity isn’t only in institutions 

February 5th 9:53PM

NYC mental institution

The NYC mental institution is the second worst place besides operating rooms. So far, Peterson has been a genuine cunt. Maybe it's just a miscommunication. I make an attempt to strike up a little chat. “You can’t be rushing people like that, especially that child back at the apartme…” I'm interrupted just as I'm about to finish my sentence. “Listen, I do my thing, you stay out of my way, got it?” Peterson acknowledges aggressively in a grounded tone. “Why are we here in the first place?” He enquires. “There was a report of a possible breakout” I answer confidently. “A ‘Possible’ breakout? Ah fuck, we’re just wasting our time” Before being attacked by a prisoner who has burst through the door, Peterson comments. I throw him off, Peterson takes out his weapon and shoots the convict in the brain. “You shouldn’t have done that” I speak dissatisfied. “Ha, next you’re gonna say ‘It’s not the jedi way’” As he rises off the earth, Peterson lips. Although Peterson is a dick, he is well versed in popular culture. The facility is emitting alarms, which we hear. “I’ll call for backup” Peterson spits quickly. I go in alone. “Hey, where are you going?” As he channels the talkie, he inquests. I shove my right side of the torso into the door, which swings open. Fuck me, there are insane individuals all over the place. It isn't long until they are apprehended by security. I saw two prisoners fleeing with no one pursuing them. This is, I suppose, my pursuit. I dash over to them. Jumping over the incarcerated. “Freeze!” I wail. They don't seem to be able to quit. Not at all surprised. They never manage to do so. I sprint toward them. Before they both open the doors besides each other, I almost catch up to each individual. Four inmates from two cells appear out of nowhere and bring me down.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 14: A squeeze is all it takes

February 5th 4:27PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

“Hello Michael. I just want to congratulate you for the arcade act. You can say you got the jackpot. I see you’ve….” Before he could continue, I cut off the irritating disembodied speaker. “You lying fuck… You said that bomb was 10cm” I declare in aggression. “This isn’t about me Michael. This is about you… Your show” The voice continues. As I ponder, I sigh. “After these tasks.. Will I be able to see my Mother… Alive?” “I promise that Michael.. With a cherry on top” He speaks promisingly.  I'm not sure why but... When he stated that, I believed him. “Now Micheal, I’ve noticed for the past six months. You and An Cheau have become close friends. Well unfortunately today. That has to stop. Eliminate Cheau from this disgrace we call earth. His sins have corrupted him” I hear a gunshot coming from the call after the speaker stops talking. However, that wasn't a genuine gunshot, it was a sound effect. I'm being mocked. As I cry, I drop the phone. Tears stream down my cheeks. My cheeks began running down to the floor. I'm unable to stop it. I have to do everything it takes to rescue my Mother. I pull the revolver & stuff it into my pants, just as six months before. An uneasy feeling of nostalgia. I take it gently because I'm not prepared. Victoria & Mr Cheau appear to be continuing their origami craft. As I try to wipe the unending streams away, Mr Cheau observes my tears. “維多利亞，你能去你的房間嗎” Cheau orders Victoria. Before she sees me, she has a puzzled expression on her face. She is aware that Cheau & I would like to be alone but… Neither of them have an idea what the true cause is. She enters her extra bedroom. “Hey, you ok?” Cheau's calming voice makes the task more difficult. I shake my head & cover my eyes with my palms, obstructing my tears. He wraps his arms around me & gives me a loving embrace. Trying to make me feel better. Since Dad, I haven't had a hug like this. I grab for the revolver in my pants & steadily move it towards Cheau's head. I regretfully squeeze the trigger. The bullet slammed against the wall after passing through his skull. As he slides down the stairwell, he jumps with fright. I can make out his features. He's still moving his eyes, as if he's still alive. With a final breath, he stares squarely at me… Dies. Sadness in his eyes. My eyes are welling up with more tears. I don't bother to take them out of my face. From behind me, I hear distant creaking. Victoria. She saw the whole thing. “No, no, no Victoria. You don’t understand!” I sob as she retreats to the spare room, weeping just as hard as I am. I knock loudly on the door, hoping not to startle her. I de - stressed so she could de - stress. “Victoria, call the police, alright sweetheart. Get an ambulance as soon as possible” I'm constantly bawling. I race to my room & grab the iPhone X & the handgun. I keep running to the rear of the flat, heading toward the shelter, barely avoiding the incoming cars.

Abandoned shelter 

I bolt into the structure where the four homeless men are housed. I ascend the spiral stairway. Randy used the same pole to strike my leg, so I wasn't anticipating a swing to the stomach with the same pole. I drop once again. Rick begins to beat me several times. My entire body is dripping with blood. Teddy & Randy effortlessly lift me & hurl me onto a wall adjacent to their little fire barrel. Randy slams his fist into me with ferocity. He seemed to be wearing knuckle busters. That was the extent of his power. Randy's punches are more enjoyable than Teddy's. Teddy is the biggest of the group. “Why’d you do it, you fucking piece of shit?” Randy inquests furiously. I make an attempt to talk but I am unable to do so. I knew they were discussing the murder that had just happened. Randy extends his hand to Teddy, clicking his fingers. Teddy reaches into the barrel & hands Randy a long flamed stick. Randy brings the flame to my fingertips. In dread, I take deep breaths. My fingers are slowly being burnt by the heat from the fire. “Why.. Did… You… Do it?” Randy repeats it again. I regained my ability to talk with authority & force. It was difficult but not insurmountable. “I’m… I’m being tested” In a battered voice, I remark. Randy peers over his sunglasses at me. I can feel his gaze piercing my eyes. He pauses for a moment before returning the stick to the barrel. He lets out a gentle sigh. Randy locates the phone in my pocket & takes it out when it rings. “No, please. Please don’t answer that” I make an attempt to express myself. He takes the phone & puts it on speaker. “Hello Mr Estlay, obviously three years in a slum hasn’t taught you anything has it Randy? I mean after all… What does murdering your wife teach you huh?” With ease, the voice sarcastically states. Randy is completely quiet. Is that true? Randy, did you kill your wife? Randy is taken aback, as if a secret has been revealed by accident. Each of Teddy, Rick & Chuck take a stick from the barrel. “Wait, wait.. Now hold on…” Before getting hit in the face by lava balls, Randy suggests. The phone almost breaks as a result of the hit but it doesn't. Randy is nearly killed by his own companions. “Enough” They continue, Ignoring my demand. “ENOUGH!” I growl. They come to a halt. Their sticks in the air. I find my strength & get to my feet. Limping. Teddy Places Randy up against a wall. I tease Randy by mimicking his clicking fingers for a burning stick. I take his hand in mine & slowly move his fingers closer to the flame. He begins to breathe deeply, exactly like I did. “Tell us.. Everything” I recommend. “She was an addict. Cocaine, she attacked me with a butcher knife one night. I had to act in self defence man. Please let me go.” Randy sobs. Living in a home with an addict, I understand Randy's plight. I try to throw the stick into the barrel but... I simply soared over it. It was more cooler when the others did it. In humiliation, I rise & pick up the practically smashed iPhone. “What is my next task?” I appeal in desperation. “Tim Allan. You remember him don’t you? Well, I think it’s about time he got out in the world once again. Don’t you think Michael?” The shattered voice inquired. The phone is disconnected. “I recognise that voice, that was the same voice the hooded man used when he attacked us” Teddy acknowledges. “He’s right” Chuck concurs. I take a seat among them. The four horsemen of homelessness. That would, I assume, make me homeless as well. I'll take the fifth. “I guess dinner is ready” Teddy exposes. I knew I smelled beef, lamb or some other type of meat. Teddy takes meat bits from the barrel. Through the blaze, his hand. “Doesn’t that hurt?” I curiously ask. “You get used to it” Teddy responds to the inquest. How can you get acclimated to situations like that? I'm out when it comes to paper cuts. Teddy pulls a massive spherical bone from the flame & smashes it on the ground. The structure is cracking like a rock. I couldn't tell you what it was because I didn't know what it was... Well… Until he rotated it. Teeth.. Eye sockets, Uggh. I've completely lost my appetite. I just gaze at them as they consume human flesh. I close my eyes. I can't stand to look. It doesn't help that I can still hear the tongue spinning on the body. I rise to prepare for my departure. “Alright guys. I’m gonna leave, I’m gonna do the task” Teddy takes a breather from his meal. He gets up & takes both of my arms. “You are a good person Mike. Don’t you ever forget that” He communicates gently. Before I say anything, I scoff. “Thanks Teddy” I smile. Teddy reminds me of Lenny from Of Mice & Men… Or John Coffey from The Green Mile. I make my way to the rear exit. “See ya guys” I conclude gladly. Everyone, including Randy, gives me a wave goodbye. Randy hasn't been defeated yet? Ha. I give them a grateful smile as I leave. The further I get away from the shelter.. The closer I get to the NYC mental institution.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 15: A dead man and a prick

February 5th 4:38PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

God, six months since this place. Shit. It wasn’t very nostalgic. I step out of the vehicle. Sunglasses still on my face. I catch a glimpse of the man's body being lifted onto the bed. “This is where Mike Richway lives?” I inquired of Peterson, who had also exited the vehicle. “Yep, sad sack deserves to live in this shithole” Peterson answered. Mike, I don't believe, does. He doesn't appear to be a threat. The odour of blood and flesh greets us as we enter the rotting complex. I use my hand to cover my nose. The same motion as the arcade. “What’ve we got?” I question the officers in the area. “An Cheau, age 64. Shot on his left side of the skull. Right through the brain” Jesus Christ. A homicide? Almost certainly. I find a gunshot lodged in the wall. It’s quite jammed in there. “Mike was the only one living here, correct?” I curiously wonder. “By the state of this place, I’m surprised he lived here but…. Yes.. He was the only one here” The investigator responded. I walk inside Mike's room. On the floor, I notice a green envelope. I take it in my hands and flip it over. A drawn triangle? Shit. It's happening again. A blue one is on the counter, while a red one is hidden inside a large box. “Peterson!” I howl. He steps in and takes a peek around. “Do you remember the Richway case six months ago?” I query, trying to spark his recollection. “Yeah of course, the fucker was found innocent” Peterson adds in a dismissive manner. I stare down my nose at him, disgusted. “Leave the kid alone man” He is offended by my remark. I toss the green packet in his direction. It's been caught. “If that’s not another Richway case… I don’t know what it is” I utter with trepidation in my voice. “Alright, the investigators will pick this up” Peterson murmurs. From one of the doors down the hall, I hear faint blubbering. “Do you hear that?” I concern Peterson. “What?” I collect my handgun and proceed down the corridor. The sobbing is becoming very loud. I turn the handle on the door. When the door is locked, I shoot the latch, leaving the door open. It gets a good kick from me. The sound of a loud, muffled scream can be heard. It was only a small child with a teddy bear. I make an effort to calm her down. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m one of the good guys” To show that I'm a detective, I take out my badge. She gives a quick nod as she pulls the bear from her lips. Peterson enters the room unimpressed. “Alright kid.. Hurry up, lets go” I was outraged, you can't hurry a little girl when someone has died. “Give her time” I suggest immediately. “We don’t have time!” As he takes the girl's arm forcefully, Peterson exclaims impatiently. I hurriedly shove him away from her. He tries to remove his pistol from its holder. To be fair, I do the same approach. “That’s enough” Chief Sanders demands. We both belt our holsters slowly. “Give her time to calm down. Don’t rush her” To Sanders and Peterson, I urge. I grin and wink at the little girl before hearing a loud cry from the damaged building across the street. I escape through the back door and listen for any more shouting. I overhear a faint conversation about cocaine and a… Wife?  A guy in a black hood strikes me with firecrackers as I go closer to the structure. As I see the man flee, I gradually regain my vision. “Shit” I maintain my voice low. Smoke from outside barbecues sprays in my face as I pursue him. To be honest, it's a wonderful scent but it's not a pleasant experience for the eyes. I take a deep breath and exhale the smoke. I come to a complete stop. “Fuck” I softly talk. I couldn't find him, I glance about. Shit. Fuck. Fucking smoke. I return to the flat to see if there is anything else I can look into.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 16: A longer friendship 

February 5th 9:36PM

NYC mental institution

All I hear is shouting as soon as I come in. Coming from each & every one of the cells. There's blood upon the wall. I'm led into the speaking booth. It's the one with two phone lines, one on each end. I sat down, which was a great experience after a few hours of walking. I patiently wait, take your time. Anything to avoid having to deal with Tim. I hear buzzing followed by an abrupt unlock from the door on the opposite side of the stained glass. I was looking down, trying not to establish eye contact, I didn't get a clear picture of his face. The man takes a seat on the other opposite of me, just 5cm away. The phone is taken from my end & handed to me by security. I nervously take it in my palm, placing it against my ear. Tim's breathing, his fucking cunt breathing, could be heard “Hello Mike.. You come to visit me and you don’t even want to talk to your friend” In a mocking tone, Tim asserts. I tremble with rage, hatred &... fear. I'm not interested in conversing. “Look at me Mike, look what this place has done to me.” Tim's ramblings persist. I'm still unable to look at him. My attention is transfixed on the ground. “I said look… At… Me” Tim demands in a firm voice. I dread to look up but... I do so. Tim Allan, I see him. Hair has grown in length, the beard is much longer than it was six months ago. Bruises around his left eye, a large lump on his right side of his skull that might as well be a tumour. He definitely hasn't slept. His eyes are bloodshot. I still don't feel sorry for the bastard. With a mocking grin, he stares at me. “How… How are you doing this to me when you’re locked in here?” Tim appears perplexed for a few seconds before answering the unintentional riddle, which I fairly doubt. “It’s happening again isn’t it?” Tim sneers. As much as I despise him, he is a skilled problem solver. Tim starts tracing a diamond on the glass with his finger over & over. I'm being teased. “What’s the task Mike? Are you gonna break me out of here, is that it?” Even though Tim already knows the answer, Tim muttered into the phone, I don't answer. Tim goes into his shoe & pulls out a rectangle shaped object, which he quickly gives to me through a small gap in the glass. Tim's motions are watched by the security staff behind him. I examine the object beneath the desk. A security card? “This’ll give you access to all the rooms in the building.. 825 is a real important one” Tim explains. I observed the guard standing behind Tim making a phone call from one of the wall mounted telephones. A strange buzz startles me. “Time’s up” As he raises Tim up with his hands, the staff addresses. Tim smiles & winks at me as he walks away. His cunt face is ripe for punching. The warden who granted me entrance escorts me once again. I take a walk, looking for a way to Tim's cell. “Uh, do.. Do you have a bathroom?” I enquire respectfully. As we walk together, he points me in the direction of the restroom. It's a lengthy walk to the bathroom. We made it after a few turns. There are no security in sight. As he begins to unlock the door, inmates scream & scramble around their bars. They make an attempt to dismantle the metal. Obviously, this doesn’t work. As a signal to shut up, the sentry begins to hammer on the door. A convict snatches the man's arm & bites a large piece off of it. The lips of the guard is grabbed & pulled away from his face. As the captives eat their supper, the warden starts screaming. There was blood all over the floor. So gloomy. I sprint to the cells with greater numbers. “799, 811, 825, here it is” As I run, I puff. As I swipe the card through the slot, I take a deep breath. As the door slowly opens electronically, another buzzing can be heard. Tim is resting against the wall with the same fucking smirk he had six months ago. Tim pulls the card from my grip & swipes it through the remaining cage slots. A horde of insane individuals manages to flee. One of the criminals receives instruction from Tim. “Take the card and swipe it on every single cell” Tim does a demonstration for the other detainee. The psycho snags the card & swiftly swipes the door open. We hurry for the exit. Unfortunately, a charging detective had blocked the escape. Shit. Tim takes my arm as we start running in the opposite way. We are being pursued by the officer. “Freeze!” From the opposite side of the room, we hear. Fuck, he was incredibly fast. He was standing right down the hall from Tim & I, he was very near to us. “Open that door” Tim provides me instructions while pointing to the door on my left. As Tim unlocks the door on his right, I open it. Four mad men suddenly appear in front of the officer, who was just two feet away from us. As the men begin making animal noises, the deteis pushed down the officer. Tim drags me up once more. It does not please me in the least. As we conceal, he pushes me around the corner. Tim notices a cart loaded with surgical materials. As the detective approaches, Tim grabs a scalpel. The amount of flicker emanating from the lights makes it difficult to see. Tim abruptly assaults the cop, stabbing him in the hip. Tim gets knocked down by the deputy's pistol with a hard swing. Shit. The detective takes the blade from his hip & drops it on the ground. His hand was drenched with blood. He doesn't appear to be aware that I'm present. Tim subsequently attempts to stand up before being kicked in the stomach, causing him to fall flat on his back. Tim makes the mistake of trying to stab the officer in the leg with the same scalpel but…. The detective kicks it out of his grasp. Tim is repeatedly punched by the cop, I can tell Tim is likely to die or at the very least suffer a concussion. I act in fear & knock the detective off Tim with my foot. The officer's chest shock reverberated through my neurological system. As I run, Tim gets up. We both race for an open door as we begin our journey back home. There was no one in sight. Past the building's alarms, we hear distant sirens. We successfully jump over the barb wire fence, slashing my left arm in the process. Away from the psychiatric facility.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 17: Rigged partners

February 5th 3:24PM

Dave & Buster’s

I can only smell smoke and it's not barbeque smoke, it smells more like cigarette smoke. I'm still shocked the place survived. I go through the swaths of police tape that have been strewn over the area. I saw blood vessels, intestines, organs and children. The stench is so bad that I cover my nose with my arm. The smell Is currently in my mouth. I puke in the entryway's corner. Fuck. That's how awful it is. I believe it has all gone. Okay, here we go. I take a walk through the smoke and tiny flames. “Nathan” Chief Sanders has arrived at the crime scene, I hear from afar. There isn't much of it, however... It's not insignificant. Sanders transports me to a nearby detective. A face I'm not used to seeing. “Nathan this is detective Peterson. He will be your partner till the case is over” Sanders acknowledges the matter. I give a low key nod and cast a peek at Peterson, who, based on his eye rolling, appears uninterested in me. Sanders departs for us to examine the area. Okay, Nathan, try making small talk. “Hi, I’m detective Nathan.. You’re obviously detective Peterso…” “Don’t even bother, I know who you are Nathan, I know everything about you” Peterson interrupts. He definitely enjoys mind games but.. He doesn't know everything there is to know about me. “Ha, not everythi…” I make an effort to respond. “Born September 29th 1994. You graduated top of your class by your impressive hearing, speed and social awareness. You have an ex wife named Marrisa and two kids named Shaun and Maggie. You see them once a year” Peterson interferes once more. Hmmm, I guess he does knows all there is to know about me. I don't see my kids very often now that I think about it. We were complete strangers the last time we spoke. I'm standing there contemplating how my life spiralled out of control three years ago. “What do you think caused this?” I question, concentrating on the investigation. “Some kid forgot to blow out the candles?” Peterson raises a snarky remark. With disappointment, I squint at him. “Well, by the state of this place, we can’t really identify anything without the cameras. That’s our lead” I understandably call. One machine stands out as having sustained more damage than the rest. Gold Fishing. I approach the overturned game. I'm not sure what to make of it. Is it possible that the explosion was triggered by an electrical failure? We won't know until we look at the Video surveillance footage, I guess. I've finished with the crime scene. Apart from dismembered bodies, there isn't much to look at. I extend my hand to shake Peterson's “Don’t fuck up my case” Peterson speaks disrespectfully as he rolls his eyes once again. He exits the arcade with a frown on his face. “Fucking prick” I speak quietly to myself.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 18: A hopeful goodbye 

February 6th 1:28AM

New York City 

“Ah, home, sweet home” Tim exclaims with glee. I make an effort to disregard his excitement filled amusement. Tim begins swinging on poles & singing ‘Singin’ in the rain by Gene Kelly’ “Come on Mike, join me” Tim requested. I'm continuously ignoring him. Tim's phone is humming, I can feel it. I pull it from my pocket. “Hey, there it is” Tim exclaims excitedly as he looks at his phone with a smile on his face. “Shut up!” I order Tim. As soon as Tim becomes silent, I pick up the phone. “Hello Michael… Hello Timothy Allan. You have done very well Michael, I think you deserve the location to your Mother. As for you Tim. You’re petty and weak. If I were you, I would recommend leaving better tasks” It was humorous to see Tim get insulted. He was humiliated by the speaker. As soon as a message is sent, the phone call ends. “55th Hell’s Kitchen - Abandoned newspaper factory” Yes, ok. It's not a long walk, perhaps a half - hour. “You don’t see it do you Mike!?” Tim inquires, I am perplexed. “The fuck you talking about?” I'm pleading for an answer. “That.. Guy called you Michael.. Not Mike” “Yeah, so?” What the fuck is Tim trying to say? What does it matter if they use my full name? “For fuck sakes Mike. Your Mother is the only one who calls you Michael. When have you ever heard someone call you Michael besides your Mom. Not me, not Charlie, not your girlfriend, Anna” Tim is getting his message across to me. He's making some excellent points. This isn't my Mother's fault… Is it? No, no. Before I think about it, something Tim said jumps out to me. “How did you know Anna was my girlfriend?” I question in confusion. “She visits me once a week” Tim clarifies. I'm guessing Anna & Tim remained friends after the incident six months ago. She could have, so at the least, informed me. I start walking in the direction of my Mother's location. I take a breather to say one more thing to Tim. “I hope you know… Your little admirer… Got Anna killed” Tim's expression appears to be sorrowful & astonished. I proceed to head away, imagining my Mother as the murderer. Why did Tim have to be so clever? I turn around to find Tim walking in the opposite direction. Rubbing his eyes. Is he crying? Fuck, I never expected to see that. I'm still not sympathetic. I hope we don't run into each other again… Ever again.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 19: New case, new rules

February 5th 3:09PM

NYC precinct 

Six months later

Sitting at my desk.. Eight hours a day, seven days a week. I'm waiting for fresh cases to come in. All I do is stare at Shaun and Maggie's photo. I think it’s about time I stand that photo again. I open my drawer and let out a dusted photo of Stoll and I eating at the best doughnut stand in NYC. Unfortunately… That closed down. I stand it next to Maggie and Shaun as I wipe dust off Stoll’s face. Miss you bud. I'm idle, I sign. “Nathan, in my office!” Across the precinct, Chief Sanders shouts. I get up and speed over to his office. As I close the door, I walk in. I take a step forwards, my hands behind my back. I'm awaiting instructions. “Now, it’s been six months since the Richway case and ever since officer Stoll’s… Death… I think you need a new case” Sanders gives commands soft and sympathetically. Fucking finally. Another case. I smile as I slowly nod, trying to hide my excitement. “You will be assigned to the latest case we get reported to” Sanders goes on. I'm exploding with excitement and happiness in my head. Sanders is left alone. I'm getting back to my workstation. Great, there will be a new case shortly. A six month delay. I keep up with the newest news in New York. It's basically a bunch of nonsense articles on how fast food is good for you. Nowadays, there are a lot of stupid people. I'm caught in a time loop, reading through increasingly dumb articles. “Nathan! Reported explosion at the arcade on 11th in Brooklyn. You’re up” Sanders exclaims. Yes, yes, yes. This is it. This is the first investigation I've done in a long time. I depart the station, taking my jacket from my spinning chair. I put it on before starting my vehicle, increasing the siren and accelerating, approaching 11th.

Mike Richway: 

Chapter 20: Front page

February 6th 1:58PM

55th - Hell’s Kitchen

I approach the abandoned construction site. I take my revolver from my pants in case I need to intimidate someone. I was aware that the pistol was empty but... It gave me a sense of security. My eyes adapt to the dim lighting. The door has purple spray paint on it, a rectangle. I’m at the right place. I happen to come across it. As I step out of the way, I unlock the door. Silence. That's a positive indication. I approach with care. I observe a trail of blood, hopefully leading to the bastard. I follow it. My PTSD is playing up. It's so powerful that I can smell the toilet factory. I find Tim standing at my side. Following me. I'm aware that he isn't present in reality. “Wow Mike, completed two tests in the matter of less than a year.. And you call yourself a nobody” As I move forwards, I disregard Tim. The wall has huge wording on it, which I observe.

HURRY DETECTIVE 

“Well, the last time I checked, you were not a detective Mike” Tim continues to annoy me as I still avoid him. Dust keeps going into my mouth. I have to cough it out of my lungs constantly. I focus on the lettering up ahead . I give it a tap to see whether it's moist. Dry. Dry as a bone. I start reading the text.

Live     Learn    Forgive    Forget

“Forgive? I don’t think murdering Anna is forgivable Mike. Died in fear, sadness” Tim spoke in hushed tones into my ear. He was however correct, what I've gone through is inexcusable. I walk slowly & come upon a set of stairs leading to a door. Out of nowhere, a loud supersonic boom erupted. It’s been a long long time by Kitty Kallen. Playing the same tune six months earlier, copying Tim. My heart skips a few beats, which startles me. As I ascend the stairwell. Tractors are strewn throughout the area. I get towards the front door. When I turn around, I discover Tim has vanished from my mind. As the weapon is aimed forwards, I gently push the rusty door wide. The door had been left unlocked. It unfolds with ease. I take a few steps forwards. My breath became deeper & thicker with each stride. I cast a glance to my right. I count four individuals. Charlie, Anna, Tim & Mom. I was very aware that it was my PTSD acting up. Charlie & Anna are no longer alive... They're not returning. It's awful but there's nothing I can do about it now. Just be honest with yourself Mike. The fact is that it is my own Mother who is the killer. I close my eyes & take the deepest breath I can to reclaim control of my awareness of reality. My lungs filling to the limit. My airholes are closing, preventing additional air from entering my system. As I gently open my eyes, I exhale. I'm preparing to confront my own Mother. I spy a figure resting against a wooden table. Tim did it the same way. I'm taken aback. I'm paralysed. “Hello handsome” Anna enthusiastically comments.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 21: Innocence 

August 18th 2:41PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

After a forty minute delay, Stoll and I made it. SWAT is lurking around the corner. We peek through the glass and see a man who is bleeding. He's lost a lot of blood, fuck. We approach with extreme observations. As I set the equipment down which I claimed from the car on the chilly floor, we concentrate on the male bleeding rather than the one standing behind the shattered counter. “What took you guys so long!? I called you guys nearly a fucking hour ago!” The adolescent screams furiously. “Sir, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened” As he unbuckled his firearm holster, Stroll made a suggestion. The kid heeds the instruction and begins to relax, softly inhaling and exhaling. “Alright, this man has kidnapped my best friend & has been sending me these boxes full of these... tasks or objectives to hurt others to find him.” The gentleman explains himself. As I do so, I examine the bleeding individual and the blood soaked cold marble floor. I can't believe he's still alive. I grab a large bandage from the first aid kit and wrap it over the dying man's head. “Do you have any... proof or evidence of this happening?” Stoll interrogates the kid. “Yes.. yes, the cameras can prove it” The boy answers in an obviously noticeable nervous tone. “You mind if I take a look?” Stole inquiries, “Be my guest officer, I got sent the box at around 2:00PM today” The adolescent replies. “Do you.... Do you still have the box with you?” I question with a legitimate concern. “No, I uh... I threw it out” The kid pauses. Something doesn’t feel right. Something’s suspicious “You can just grab it out of your trash ca....” Before being interrupted, I try to quote. “No, I mean like... thrown it out.. yeah, out the window.” The boy communicates. I cast a sceptical glance at Stoll. While I take the elderly outdoors, I leave him to cope with the young adult. As I open the door, I place the old man in my car. “It’s ok, I’ll get an ambulance” I reassured. “Dispatch, this is detective Nathan. I need an ambulance as soon as possible at Cheau’s 5 star apartment” I spit in the walkie. “I’ll be back, alright sir” I tell the elderly gentleman. In anguish, he complies. I walk in as soon as I detect the kid has left. “Stoll, where did the kid go?” With prudence, I query. “He went to his room” Stoll returns immediately. As we both examine the CCTV footage. We see the exact reverse of what the young man claimed. A cloaked figure handed the goods to the old gentleman. As I tap Stoll on the shoulder, I sigh. I pound on the young kid’s door as we finish mounting the stairs. “Mike Richway, come out with your hands up. You are arrested for assaulting an innocent man, anything you say can and will be used agai....” As we are pushed down by the man, Stoll advises. Stoll takes his pistol from his holster and attempts to fire the kid. As he flees, the bullet whistles past his ear. “Are you ok?” I worryingly ask Stoll. As we hear a lot of gunshots, he responds with positive head shakes. The entrance door smashed, I help Stoll up. As the firings come to a halt, we take a look outdoors. The young man vanished from view. With all of these SWAT officers, how did he get away with it? We're hopeless, to put it that way. I realise that the elderly has left my vehicle. He'd have been picked up by the ambulance by now. As I enter my car, I close the rear door. As we both drive to the precinct, Stoll leaps in.

Mike Richway: 

Chapter 22: The color brown

February 6th 2:02AM

Abandoned newspaper factory 

Anna? Anna Brown? My girlfriend is the brains behind this? Fuck, This isn't my PTSD. It's the reality I'm dealing with. Tim has influenced my girlfriend. Behind her, I glimpse a dangling torso. Mom! Still alive. Blood slowly trickling. I'm disgusted as I stand there staring at Anna. She comes up to me, giggly. “Turn that frown, upside down babe” She joyfully exposes. She takes my head in her hands & moves it closer to her lips, kissing me. I was at a loss for words. I loved it in part because I assumed she was dead but... The majority of me didn't, considering Anna is a murderer. She grinds to a stop as she locks her attention on myself. “Hi” Sniggering, she laughs. “You were… Outstanding Mike. Applause to your son Mrs Richway, aww but you can’t.. Because you’re hanging like a bat” Anna jokes to my Mother. “Get her down” I speak gently to Anna, quietly. I'd want to describe exactly how I'm feeling. “Just hang on babe, first you have to giv…” Anna begins to ignore. “GET HER DOWN!” I shout vehemently. She is bemused since she has never seen this aspect of me before. She gives me a disgruntled expression. She expresses her dissatisfaction by shaking her head. She takes a drawer from her table & uncovers it. Speakers & laptops are all over the area. On the edge of the table, there appears to be a voice changer. She loads a large shotgun with ammunition. As I issue the command, I point my weapon at her “Put it down!.” “Don’t worry, it’s not for you babe… Do you really think I don’t know the bullet is loaded? I can’t believe you felt sympathy for An Cheau, after the way he treated you for that long.. I think he deserved it” Anna responded quickly. Anna obviously never saw the good side of Cheau. I lower the pistol, knowing Anna is aware that the weapon is empty of bullets. She connects the shotgun to a little structure in the centre of the room. She points it ahead of the entry, the wire attached to the doorknob. She inserts the wire into the trigger. If that door is opened, the gun will be fired. “Get…. My… Mother… Down… Now” I submit a final order. Anna starts to approach me by skipping. “Only if you give me a kiss” Anna is adamant. Oh fuck, shit. I go ahead & fulfil her request. I lean closer, gingerly, to kiss her lips. I'm able to accomplish this. With annoyance, I cease. She chuckles as she nears my Mother. She turns around & grins at me. She grabs a small blade from her jeans pocket, beginning to stab Mom in the leg. Mom cries in misery, I am traumatised. Anna stabs Mom in various parts of her body several times. Again & again. Over & over. Mom’s shrieks became increasingly deafening. As I run over to Anna, I struggle with my hesitancy. I hadn't taken more than a few feet when Anna pulled a handgun from her back pocket. “Anymore steps and I’ll shoot you Michael, I swear to god” Anna remarks fiercely. I come to a complete pause. She beams at me as she uses a key she secreted in her shoe to free Mom's chains. Mom is sucked into the earth's core. I sprint over to her, who is haemorrhaging profusely. As Mom's eyelids slowly close, I attempt to comfort her. From the entrance, I hear a tremendous blast. Someone is arriving after the gunshot. At the moment, I'm too preoccupied with Mom. “Don’t move!” I hear emanating from the room's centre.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 23: First case, first partner

August 18th 2:10PM

New partner. Ok, ok, calm down Nathan. You can do this. “So now that we’re partners, it would nice to get to know each other better” In a trembling voice, I suggest. Stoll gives me a smile. During the trip, he shuffles in his seat as he settles in. “You got a wife?” Stoll inquires. I provide a reluctant response to the question. “I.. I’m divorced” “Oh fuck, sorry man” Stoll apologises. “Hey don’t worry about it. She cheated on me with an ex detective at our precinct” I contribute.  That is true. My own wife had an affair with my friend. If it isn't fucked up, I don't know what is. “That’s even worse” With a chuckle, Stoll tells. In a fit of laughter, I scoff. “Why’d she leave you?” Stoll wants to know. “She said I wasn’t spending time with her” I answer with quick timing. “We’re cops, what did she aspect?” Stoll inquired again. I answer with a shrug. “I have two kids, Shaun and Maggie. What about you? You have kids?” I investigate inquisitively. “Uhm, no. I’m sterile. Diagnosed with cancer last year. It’s hard to say when my time is up. I don’t think I’ll have time for kids” Stoll asserts himelf. Fuck. Cancer? Jesus… Shit. I cast a peek over his shoulder, catching his sorrowful demeanor. On the walkie, Stoll and I hear a beep. “All available units, we have a reported assault at Cheau’s 5 star apartment. Recommended backup” Officer Garza, on the other side, provides information. This location is already familiar to me. With an excellent recall, I've lived in New York for 28 years. Every area is familiar to you when you live in this city for this long. “Ready for work?” I wonder rhetorically to Stoll. As we go past the speed limit, he chuckles. Sirens wailing. We've come to a stop after nearly colliding with a truck in the middle of the road. “What the fuck?” Stoll speaks in confusion. We get out and inspect the vehicle. When we come upon the window.. We knock, expecting for a response from the driver. Nothing. From the other side of the steering wheel, I unlock the door. There is no one inside. The truck was damaged and falling apart. Stoll notices folded paper on the steering wheel. I reach within to take it. I pull out the paper and unfold it.

 Hurry detective

 The message reads. I'm puzzled once I look at Stoll. He shrugs as he calls for a tow truck on his walkie talkie. Hurry detective? I have a glance throughout. It appears to be an average neighbourhood. Nothing unordinary. I close the letter and put my keys in the ignition to start my motor. While we wait, Stoll joins me. “This’ll be at least thirty minutes,” Stoll informed.

Mike Richway:

Chapter 24: A cry for help

February 6th 2:10AM

Abandoned newspaper factory 

“Don’t move!” On the other side of the room, deafening shouting can be heard. I fix my eyes on the armed man. A well known face. Back at Tim's institution, it was the detective from whom we escaped. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He's going to execute me. “Detective Nathan” Anna exclaims loudly & cheerfully. So he's Nathan, the detective. Shit. SHIT! “So good to finally see you in person” Anna goes on. Mom remains to be comforted by me. I'm hoping everything will turn out ok. When Anna reveals his name, detective Nathan looks flummoxed. “GET DOWN AN PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS BEHIND YOUR…” Nathan gives orders while roaring. Before she lets the detective finish his statement, Anna does so with ease. I get to my feet & raise my hands in the air. “YOU TOO!” Nathan screams. Me? Why me? You want to arrest me right now when I'm attempting to save my Mother? Fuck that. I'm returning to the floor to reassure my Mother, I stood firm. While Detective Nathan aims his pistol at Anna, approaching me & Mom, Anna smiles with her cunt face as she stands up, disregarding detective's instructions. We can all hear distant sirens nearing the structure. Anna's grin is becoming bigger & wider. The sirens suddenly come to an end. Nothing. My ears are ringing with nothing but silence. From a minor hole in the ceiling, a small metal tin emerges. As another can enters through from the same hole, Nathan advances. As the officer returns his eyes to the source of the noise. The cans detonate. Almost threw me over. As the smoke penetrates our bodies, Mom & I cough. The SWAT team enters via the shattered room. We were on the verge of collapsing. “GET DOWN!” “HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!” “DON’T MAKE ME FUCKING SHOOT YOU!” Howling, the police command.  There are green beams across the room. Some are beaming directly into my eyes & chest. As he is hoisted & carried out of the facility, I observe detective Nathan being cuffed. “JUST FUCKING HELP HER… SHE’S DYING!” Fearless to help my Mother, I cry to the SWAT. As I watch Anna being carried out of the factory, they shackle me. They struck me in the face with their rifle. I was on the edge of breaking asleep. I'm feeling a little wobbly. Drowsy.

Detective Nathan:

Chapter 25: Detective and the rookie

August 18th 1:03PM

NYC precinct

Sitting at my desk.. Eight hours a day, seven days a week. I'm waiting for fresh cases to come in. All I do is stare at Shaun and Maggie's photo. I'm idle, I sign. “Nathan, in my office!” Across the precinct, Chief Sanders shouts. I get up and speed over to his office. As I close the door, I walk in. I take a step forwards, my hands behind my back. A person stands in the corner, which I note. Shy in appearance. He has a terrified emotion on his face as he looks at me. With a smirk, I slowly bow my head down. Greeting him to the force. “Nathan, this is Richard Stoll. Ahead of his academy. Richard this is Nathan, he will be your partner from now on, show you the ropes” Chief Sanders confirms. Stoll extends his hand to shake mine. I accept his partnership. We are sent. Stoll casually strolls in the other route as I do. “Hey, where are you going?” I speak in concern. “To my… To my desk” Stoll answers with a shy pause, “You don’t want to go for a ride?” I offer. As he puts on his jacket and sunglasses, he smiles and scoffs with me. As we head over to the vehicle, I politely open the door wide for Stoll.

Chapter 26: Valid sentence 

February 7th 9:01AM

New York County Supreme Court

Mike Richway:

“Mr Richway, this is the second time in the matter of a year that you’ve been sent to this court for murder, trespassing and other accusations. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honour”

“Richway, we understand that you didn’t want to hurt anybody but… This is unacceptable at this point son. Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“I was scared that if I did so.. She would kill my Mother, your honour”

“It is reported you freed Timothy Allan from his imprisonment. Do you know the current location of Allan?”

“No, your honour”

“Are you aware of nine children and thirteen parents murdered at an arcade you recently visited?”

“Yes, your honour”

“Are you also aware of twenty seven escaped convicts at the NYC mental institution?”

“Yes, your honour”

“Well Mr Richway. I don’t.. I don’t really have anymore questions for you son. All I can say is may god be with you. Your sentence will be announced later this evening”

Anna Brown:

11:33AM

“Anna Brown.. Why? Why do this to Mr Richway?”

“The same reason Tim Allan did it. Loyalty”

“Were you.. Let’s say.. Inspired on Timothy’s crimes six months ago?”

“You can say that, Tim was… An influencer”

“Why force Mr Richway into putting a bomb in Dave & Buster’s?”

“Because I fucking hate kids. Running around with their snot hanging out of their noses. Coughing without closing their mouths.. Little cunts is what they are”

“Why instruct Richway to assassinate An Cheau?”

“The way he treated Mike, the suffer he went through. An didn’t give a shit about Michael”

“You do know you have given a traumatic experience to his daughter, Victoria, correct?”

“Well Mr Wilson.. That’s something she has to overcome”

“Are you the one who left Jack Ortiz’s body in front of the New York City Mortuary?”

“Yes”

“Right um.. Ms Brown.. Your.. Your sentence along with Mr Richway’s will be announced during the same time later this evening”

2:09PM

Today, the judge appears to be... sick. By the minute, his sweat glands were gushing water. I cast my eyes across to detective Nathan, who appears to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. With a thumbs up, he expresses his approval of my innocence. I was hoping for a fair trial. Anna is gazing at me with another cunt sneer, which I see from the corner of my eye. I stare back, disgusted & enraged. With a shock from me, the adjudicator slams his hammer down, breaking our eye contact. “The court is now in session of the sentences of Micheal Richway and Anna Brown” With a croaked voice, the magistrate speaks. “Anna Brown, convicted of murder, trespassing, theft and other convictions. You are sentenced nineteen years in the same institution Timothy Allan did, with as much security as necessary. As uhh.. As for you Michael. You have a… A choice. The court has made the decision for you to decide thirteen in NYC state prison or… Or join the… The war in Afghanistan starting tomorrow. The decision is yours Micheal” War in Afghanistan? What the fuck? Fight? Is it better to be imprisoned or at battle? There is no way out of this situation. I take a big inhale & calming breaths. I'm making a decision. “W.. War, your honour” I confirm belatedly. The jury smacks his hammer against the tabletop. Anna is being escorted to the psych ward. I search over to see detective Nathan smiling as he walks away. When I turn approximately, the judge is levelling a revolver at me. The security guards in the rear of the room draw their firearms & direct them upon him. Fearfully, I raise my hands. As he draws the gun's hammer back, the judge weeps. Prepared to fire. Knowing that this is my last day on earth. I breathe one last breath. The prosecutor raises his weapon to his chin.. Pointing up, pulling his trigger. His body drops with hard impact. Before stillness, the court erupts. I'm trembling. I'm freezing, my skin turning pale. The blood of the adjudicator splashed over my face, near my mouth. “Check him” One of the bodyguards direct the other officers, I see he's as alarmed as I am. A hefty item was discovered in the jurat’s pocket by security. A tape recorder. What is the jury's purpose with a tape recorder? The patrol triggers the recording within by clicking a button. A heavy exhale can be heard in the courtroom. The speaker was not dismantled, deep or strange. The speaker just sounded.. Like a man speaking, a normal man. “Hello judge Wilson…”