Chapter 2: Investigation

In the dimly lit hallways of the NYPD Station, the heavy presence of anticipation hangs in the air. At the end of the corridor, a large black door marks the entrance to the Chief of Police's office. Moving purposefully down the hallway is Beatrice Fletcher, the personal assistant and assistant chief of the NYDP. With her auburn hair and curvy figure, she exudes an air of no-nonsense. By her side, a figure hidden beneath a grey trench coat walks in silence.

Reaching their destination, Beatrice and the mysterious companion enter the office to find Chief of Detectives, Reginald Boston engrossed in a sea of paperwork that blanketed his desk. With his commanding presence, dark brown eyes, and a well-trimmed beard, Chief Boston exudes authority. His attention is immediately drawn to the arrival, and he rises from his seat to greet.

Introducing the newcomer, Beatrice spoke with a sense of pride in her voice. "Chief, I'd like you to meet Mr. Williams Smith, an expert detective all the way from London. He possesses a sharp eye, a sound mind, and a first-class degree in criminology."

The tension in the room eased as Williams J. Smith revealed himself—an attractive man with blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw that surely turned heads. The Chief extended his arm for a handshake, welcoming Williams to the team.

"Welcome, Detective Smith"

"Thank you," Williams replied, "And please, call me Williams."

Now settled, the Chief guided Williams to a table where files relevant to their discussion awaited their attention. As Williams began to examine the papers, he couldn't help but react to the shocking contents.

"'The Reaper,'" Williams murmured, appalled. "Over a thousand kills? That surpasses even 'Fang.' It seems I've got my work cut out for me."

Chief Boston nodded gravely, hinting at the magnitude of the task that lay ahead. "The Reaper has eluded capture, despite our closest encounter three years ago on New York Harbor. He had just taken the life of a prominent foreign importer."

Three years ago....

The scene shifted to that fateful night, the memories of Chief Boston still fresh. As he stood before a group of police officers surrounding a cargo boat, he shouted through a megaphone, demanding the Reaper's surrender.

"Put your hands up, Reaper! It's over!" Chief Boston's voice echoed across the harbor, his determination unwavering.

Silence stretched agonizingly, but eventually, the killer hesitated and raised his hands. Sensing an opportunity, Chief Boston signaled his men to board the ship, attempting to ensnare their elusive prey.

However, as fate would have it, chaos ensued. A deafening explosion erupted beneath the vessel, violently hurling the officers onto the dock. In the ensuing commotion, the Reaper seized the chance to escape. Chief Boston, quick-witted as ever, caught a glimpse of the killer making a desperate leap into the water. He followed, determined not to let him slip through his grasp.

Upon reaching the docks, to his dismay, Chief Boston found nothing but empty space. The Reaper had vanished, leaving only frustration and determination in his wake.

Returning to the present, Beatrice watched as Detective Williams remained fixated on a set of files, seemingly detached from the conversation taking place around him. Frustrated, she called out to him, "Detective Williams, are you even listening to what the Chief is saying?"

Finally, Williams snapped back to attention, slamming the file onto the table. "Look at this," he exclaimed. His voice was filled with urgency and determination. "I think 'The Reaper' only targets important individuals. 'Manager of TedX branch in NYC, murdered in cold blood', 'Son and successor of NYC banking system, cut by the throat', 'Famous pharmacist and scientist died in a 'car accident'. Don't you see the connection? These are all wealthy and influential people in New York City."

Chief Boston, growing impatient, responded, "Yeah, we already figured that out. He's probably just a deranged lunatic with a grudge against the economic system."

"But what if he's an assassin?" Williams interjected with conviction. "It may be just an assumption, but it's an assumption that could be right. Someone out there is targeting the elite, aiming to take control of New York City."

Chief Boston paused, considering Williams' words carefully. Finally, he stood up and declared, "All right, you have two weeks to prove your theory."

Williams nodded, ready to take on the challenge. "Let's get to work then," he said. Beatrice, filled with determination too, chimed in, "I'll help."

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Ethan walked down the dimly lit hallway of Prestige High, with his friend Gabriel by his side. The exhaustion was evident on Ethan's face, his eyes weighed down by heavy bags and his posture slouched.

Gabriel couldn't help but notice. "Didn't get enough sleep?" he queried.

Halfheartedly, Ethan responded with a tired yawn. "Maybe..."

Feeling parched, Ethan stopped in his tracks. "I think I'm gonna get some water. I'll see you in class," he told Gabriel before slowly making his way towards the nearest drinking fountain. He bowed his head and took a long gulp, desperately trying to quench his thirst. As he raised his head, he was taken aback to find Lisa standing right beside him.

"Hello, Drake," she greeted, her presence catching him by surprise.

Ethan stole a quick glance at her before hastily taking another sip of water. Lisa, undeterred, continued the conversation in a one-sided manner. "As you know, my father's 50th birthday is coming up in two weeks. It's going to be the biggest event in New York, and a lot of people will be there. So, maybe..."

Interrupting her, Ethan raised a finger to her face. "Hold it right there," he interjected, wiping the droplets of water from his mouth before speaking again. "If you're going to ask me to come, the answer is already no."

Lisa fell silent, disappointment etched upon her face. She turned and stomped away down the corridor, leaving Ethan to process the unexpected encounter.

Before he could fully gather his thoughts, a voice broke through his contemplation. "Well, isn't she a handful. Girlfriend?" The voice belonged to Jenna, a petite girl with auburn hair styled in braided pigtails. Had it not been for her school uniform, Ethan might have mistaken her for a middle-school student.

Taking a step forward, Ethan turned to face Jenna with a mixture of confusion and disturbance. "I'm sorry, have we met before?" he questioned, trying to recall any prior interactions.

Jenna shook her head. "Absolutely not," she replied matter-of-factly.

Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about their conversation. "She's talking so plainly and calm... like she's known me for a long time," he thought to himself.

Jenna sensed his bewilderment and decided to introduce herself properly. "I don't think I've properly introduced myself," she cleared her throat. "Jenna Greenwood, Chief Editor of the Journalism Club."

Ethan's mind raced with various thoughts and emotions as he processed his encounter with Jenna. He couldn't help but recall the rumors he had heard about her being the one in control of all the information published for the students. The fact that such responsibility rested in the hands of someone who appeared so young caught him off guard.

Jenna, noticing his judgmental reaction, didn't hesitate to call him out. "It's not nice to judge someone's stature when they're talking. It's a bit rude," she retorted, her annoyance evident.

Ethan immediately realized his mistake and felt embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he quickly apologized, realizing the importance of being more considerate.

Jenna's expression softened, and she resumed speaking. "Anyways, I need your help," she stated plainly.

Confusion filled Ethan's mind as he responded, "With what? A story? What makes you think I can help you with that?"

Jenna's reply caught Ethan off guard once again. "Because you're the only person who is close to the President," she explained matter-of-factly.

Ethan was taken aback by her straightforwardness. Before he could further process her words, the bell rang, signaling the start of another class period. Disappointed, Jenna glanced at Ethan and explained, "Oh, what a shame. Anyways, meet me in my office same time tomorrow."

Instinctively, Ethan grabbed Jenna's arm, stopping her from walking away. She glared at him with irritation, but he quickly released his grip, understanding the message. "What is it? I said I would explain," Jenna questioned.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, thinking about his own plans and obligations. "And you don't think I have my own plans?" he retorted, feeling a surge of independence.

Jenna dismissed his concerns curtly. "Gabriel? He can wait. Now leave me alone." With that, she walked away, disappearing into the hallway.

Ethan couldn't help but reflect on the encounter as he checked his watch. Sighing, he realized there was no point in running now. He made his way to class, contemplating the break in his perfect attendance and the significance of Jenna's request. Suddenly, a thought struck him. "She mentioned 'The Reaper.' Why does she need my help with him? Ugh... Gabriel's going to kill me," he mused, fearing the consequences of getting further involved in Jenna's affairs.

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Gaby looked at Ethan with a mix of curiosity and concern. "So...let me get this straight. This girl, Jenna, wants you to help her with a story that might involve the notorious psycho serial killer, 'The Reaper', and that bitch, Lisa?"

Ethan nodded, his head bobbing like a kindergartener in a Q&A session. He sat on his bed while Gabriel paced nearby, clearly unsettled by the situation.

"Yeah, it's strange, isn't it?" Ethan replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Gabriel scoffed. "Strange? More like dangerous. She's trying to freaking kill you!"

Ethan paused, contemplating his next move. After a moment, he spoke up, trying to calm Gabriel's growing apprehension. "Let's just hear her out, see what she wants. We'll get an explanation."

Gabriel sighed heavily, clearly frustrated with Ethan's willingness to entertain the idea. "How can you be so smart and yet so agreeable?" he muttered.

Ethan smirked. "That's why we're friends."

Gabriel shook his head. "I wouldn't have even accepted that damn bitch's 'invitation' if I were you."

Ignoring Gabriel's concerns, Ethan remained silent for a moment before responding. "Calm down. It's going to be fine. We're meeting at school, not some abandoned warehouse."

Just as the tension in the room seemed to ease, Rebecca, Ethan's sister, barged into the room without warning, a plate of lasagna in her hand. Ethan rolled his eyes, Gabriel tried to look nonchalant but failed, and Rebecca shot them both a glare.

"What meetup?" she asked, clearly offended by being left out.

Ethan brushed her off dismissively. "Oh, dear sister, it's absolutely none of your business."

Rebecca tried to hide her hurt, but her glare intensified. "You need to show a little respect for me," she retorted.

Ethan couldn't help but take a dig at her lack of responsibilities. "Maybe if you got a part-time job or something, my respect meter would increase a few inches, but we all know that won't happen."

Rebecca's fury reached its peak, and she impulsively tossed the plate of lasagna at Ethan. He caught it just in time to prevent a mess on the floor.

"Screw you!" she shouted before slamming the door shut and stomping away, leaving Gabriel and Ethan stunned.

Gabriel broke the silence, his voice tinged with confusion. "Um...what just happened?"

Ethan sighed, realizing his insensitivity. "Just the usual sibling drama. I needed some privacy that she can never give me!"

Gabriel sighs in exhaustion as they shift to less stressful topics.

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Coming up next:

"Chapter 3: Unfortunate"