I'm sorry...
You might be wondering why I am apologizing. Well, first of all, I will have to be honest with you, and say that I lied to you. I'm sorry, I really am. But the fact that I deceived you, still remains. A correction is needed, and thus I shall do it; the lie in question being that Anthony Paxton is the main protagonist. In fact, he's not; one could say that he's nothing more than a secondary character, a very important character at that, but still secondary. Now, with all the corrections being done, let us start the story. Story that will be told through the perspective of the handsome blue eyes of our, true, protagonist—Melys, Arnold Myles...
Narrator: "Sorry for the sudden stop, it's just—just that I can't keep up with a straight face. Not with a fucking James Bond reference, right from the start." *Take a deep breath* "5 minutes break? Anyone? Editor?"
Editor: "whatever."
Narrator: "how could you…" he said to Author, as he walked out of the room.
Author: "what?..." *confused*
5 minutes later.
Editor: "All alright now?"
Narrator: "yeah, I'm fine."
Editor: "No more breaks" *menacing stare*
Narrator: "alright… then."
November 8th, 1960. 10:07 PM
In an abandoned public bathroom—of an abandoned public park—at a fresh crime scene. There was Myles, in yet another workday—as a detective. Approaching the entrance of the bathroom, he saw a suspicious silhouette, holding what seemed like a gun. Myles only had time to shout out loud: "Freeze!" while he pointed a gun at the silhouette.
Narrator: "I know that I already said this to you in the last chapter, but still, he's fucking hot."
Author: "Come on. Is not for all that much."
Narrator: "Shut up! You wouldn't know what is hot, even if a truck hits you and sends you to a handsome themed isekai."
Author: "But I created him." *mumbles.*
As the owner of the silhouette walks out of the bathroom, he said: "what da…" just to be interrupted by Myles.
Myles: "Here is the U.C.P.D! Drop your gun! Hands where I can see!" *points the gun at him.*
What the person was holding not only seemed like a gun, it was indeed a gun. And with it, he shot at Myles. Myles shot back, and out of reflex, he jumped to the left—taking cover. With bullets flying in mid-air, we end this scene—for now at least.
Narrator: "Oh! So you repeated the same scene from the last chapter but through Myles's perspective, this time. That's so cute,'' he said condescendingly. "He really thinks he is smart," he said while looking at Author.
Author: "Hey, Editor. He is being mean again."
Editor: "I'm not paid enough for this shit." he thought *sighs*
November 6th, 1960. 05:00 AM
Radio: "run, run, run away oh, oh, oh. Psycho Killer. Qu'est-ce que c'est…"
.Myles turned the radio dial, until the next radio station. At the sound of radio news, he starts his morning routine: shaving his beard, brushing his teeth, and working out soon in the morning—as usual. He was 24 years old, golden blond medium-sized hair, pale with blue eyes, and top models' levels of handsomeness.
Narrator: "Gotta work out to keep looking good."
Editor: "Ok. You're gay, we got it. But can you, please, stop simping every second that Myles appears?."
Narrator: "Simping?! Who is simping? I'm not simping." *disconcerted* "You are simping!" he said on the defensive.
Editor: *sighs.*
After his workout routine, he took a shower; as he walked out of the shower droplets of water ran down his herculean body, passing down his formidable chest, dancing around his chiseled abdomen—six-pack—, and finally down his thick thighs. A truly amazing body, it was. He got dressed up and then walked down a hall, to the kitchen. The hall was decorated with shelves—full trophies and medals of all kinds of competitions, and even prizes that he had won because of his charity work.
07:00 AM
Radio: "towards Earth, towards us. The trajectory is clear. It's a threat to mankind, my fellow humans protect yourself, and the ones dear to you. To survive you need…" The message was interrupted by Myles changing station.
Myles: "What kind of pseudoscience nonsense is this?" he said, as he started to prepare himself to start cooking.
Myles wasn't any master chef but his cooking came close to theirs. For breakfast, he prepared Grilled Steak with Parsley-Parmesan Salad—a meal so delicious that just the mere scent of it would be enough to attract you, just like a song of a mermaid would. But the recipe itself wasn't special, what was special is how he prepared it.
Radio: "Another unidentified dead body was found yesterday night, in the Industrial District, in time record after an anonymous report. The authorities are still investigating. In other related news, the rate of suicide seems to increase"
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
After the break—before he goes to work, Myles enters the basement.
47 minutes later. 09:12 AM
Narrator: "Okay, then... We really will just gloss over how bizarre and ominous that was, right?"
Author: *looks away*
.It was time for Myles to go to work at the U.C.P.D police department. However, before he left, he received a call from his partner—Allison Quintin. Telling him to go to a crime scene instead, unfortunately, he couldn't use his car, so he had to call a taxi. Arriving at the crime scene, he was received by stares of admiration and envy, as if he was a pop star walking into the stage. Quintin was waiting for him.
Quintin: "the forensic team says it was suicide." he said to Myles, handing a clipboard to him.
Allison Quintin was 27 years old, average height, black-haired. The thing that used to worry him the most was the fact that people were bothered about how honest and trustworthy he was—square, am l right?— Another noticeable fact about Quintin was his unmeasurable respect and admiration towards Myles, that to him was a role model since Myles not only was one of the youngest detectives to join the department, he also was the number one detective.
Myles: "It sure is, it sure is…" *reading the clipboard*
Myles proceeded to examine the scene, collect reports from the forensic team. He stops to put his thoughts together, looking around as if he was scanning the layout of the back alley inside his head, and then he looks up at the top of a factory.
Myles: "do we think he jumped from there?" He asked one of the forensic people.
"Yes." one of them answered.
Myles: "We got to go up there." He said to Quintin.
Quintin: "Yes, sir."
Myles, from the top of the factory, look down at the alley. After a quick look, he was done with the place.
Myles: "There's nothing more here. Let's go." *walks down the stair"
Quintin: "already? Wai—wait for me."
Myles: "You drive." *Enters Quintin cars*
Quintin: "Car still needs a fix?"
Myles: "... Yes."
Quintin: "Sr, back there, what did you mean by that, I thought you said there was something suspicious about this recent suicide."
Myles: "the suspicious part isn't the suicide."
Quintin: "Then what is it?" He said enthusiastically because he was doing a thought experiment with his role model.
Melys: "Think Quintin, think… What is the only fact that all the cases have in common?"
Quintin took his time thinking about the answer. When it looked like he was about to give up, he had a realization.
Quintin: "They were quickly reported?"
Myles: "Exactly. Well thought, Quintin."
Quintin: "But isn't it a coincidence?" he asked Myles but at the same time he was very happy with sudden praise.
Myles: "too much coincidence… don't you think?"
Quintin: "..." *intrigued*
Myles: "The suicide rate didn't increase, but the rate of discovery did. "Anonymous reported" discovery. If my hypothesis is correct, there might be someone related to all of these cases."
Quintin: "How can you know?"
Myles: "That's simple. The location."
Quintin: "..."
Myles: "A majority of the suicides occurred in places extremely remote. So remote that they become a go-to in matters of suicide. But why?"
Quintin: "Because there is no one around?"
Myles: "Yes."
Quintin: "But what does that have to do with someone being there with the victims?" *intrigued*
Myles: "In this particular case, the body was found in the back of an alley that was locked. With no possible angle in what someone could have seen the body, except for one…" *interrupted.*
Quintin: "The rooftop!"
Myles: "Yes…" *bothered by the interruption*.
Quintin: "But it isn't the same for the other cases. It could be someone else who tried to kill themselves too."
Myles: "At first I thought the same, but one case grabbed my attention. One young woman was about to attempt against her own life in an abandoned well, but she didn't. Someone else tried the well before her. Just the sight of what was left was enough to render her traumatized and incapable of moving, then she called the police, who helped her. The conclusion is: If someone was about to commit suicide and saw a dead body, they would finish what they started, call someone—possibly the police— or just leave. Of course, there is the possibility of them calling the police and leaving, but if they did; they would have left some kind of evidence of their presence. Plus, all the bodies had their belongings stolen."
Quintin was Impressed by Myles's detective skills, but still skeptical about the whole situation.
Cut to the radio station.
November 6th, 1960. 06:48 AM
Evan: "Are you sure you want to air this?"
Arnie: "He did pay a lot for it"
Evan: "It's just that, this is a lot of pseudoscience bullshit, about some light meteorite nonsense"
Arnie: "Since when you have scrupulous."
Evan: "true!"
Arnie: "Three minutes, until we go live, time to decide."
Evan: "Fuck it. How much did he pay again?"
Cut to the U.C.P.D. 11:28 AM
Narrator: "Actually, don't cut to the U.C.P.D. It's just that it's gonna be a lot of boring paper work scenes, so I'm going to skip it. No hard feelings."
03:30 MP
Quintin: "Lunchtime, lunchtime!" He chants cheerfully as he enters Myles's office.
Myles: "Are you a child?" He said ironically.
Quintin: "Wow, so this is your new office, hum... The best for the best, I guess."
Myles: "Quintin…" *pauses* "Come on now, you will have one too, one day. I believe in you." *Smiles cheerfully*
Quintin: *smiles back*
Even during lunchtime, Quintin wouldn't stop working by bringing some case files with him. Proving how hard-working of a man he was.
"Meat, meat, meat." Some cops chanted giggling to Myles as they passed next to his table.
Myles waves his hand back to them.
Narrator: "What's that supposed to mean?"
Author: "Ah! So… it's an inside joke in the department because Myles is always eating all kinds of meat-based meals."
Narrator: "Let's see if I get it" *sighs* "You put an inside joke in what is—literally—the first chapter the reader follows these characters. And you expect them to understand it?"
Author: "..."
Narrator: "You really have a future as a writer." He said sarcastically.
Myles: "Are these files of a new case?" He said as he started to eat his meat-based homemade lunch.
Quentin: "Yes" *bites a meatball sandwich* "We still don't have enough evidence to build a case on those weird suicides, so we're going to have to start a second case in the meantime."
Myles: "I am fully aware of it." *eating*
A dead silence strikes, killing the conversation and making it awkward—mostly to Quintin, Myles didn't mind—
Quintin: "and the family… how are they going?" He said in an attempt to restart the conversation.
Myles: "Too personal." He quickly said, killing the conversation back again.
Quintin: "..."
Myles: *sighs* "Why don't we finish eating first and then start to talk about this new case."
Quintin: *smiles* "You gonna love it, it's a mystery about…" he started to explain enthusiastically, but was interrupted.
Myles: "what did I say? Let's eat first."
They both smiled happily at each other and started to finish their meals.
Editor: "By the way, don't you think this chapter was kind of slow passing?"
Author: "I was going for something like an introduction. It'll be more exciting, promise."
Editor: "Cool, cool, cool."
Narrator: "Sure, I wonder why I don't believe you."
Author: "hum… Now that I think about it H.R didn't show up today."
Narrator: "Oh! I lied to him, saying that today's record was canceled."
Editor: "Nice."
Narrator: "Would you look at that?" *looks at his watch* "time to get hell out of here."
Editor: "Yeah, me too."
Both of them leave the room and turn the light off on their way out, leaving Author alone, in the dark.