WARNING: EXTREME DEPICTIONS OF GORE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
"It was once again late at night when the second murder happened. Silas and I weren't at the station that time, but I pieced together the story from what the other Guards told me later…"
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"Ugh, this is eating away at me," Officer Lucas muttered, dragging his hands through his disheveled brown hair as he sat slumped at his desk, frustration etched into every movement.
"Are you talking about the murder?" Officer Laura asked hesitantly, her voice soft as though uncertain if she should bring it up.
Lucas let out a heavy sigh, turning to her with a look of weary resignation. "What else? It's been two damn weeks, and we've got nothing." His fist hit the desk—not with anger, but with a helpless sort of defeat. "A Guard is dead. An Ironguard officer. We're supposed to be the protectors of Ironhelm, and we can't even protect our own. It's infuriating."
Laura dropped her gaze, her hands fidgeting. The unsolved case weighed on her just as much, and being chewed out by the Lieutenant for not spotting the culprit hadn't helped.
Lucas shook his head and stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm done for the day. What about you?"
Laura blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Uh, yeah. I guess I'm done too. Why?"
He grabbed his gear from the desk and motioned toward the exit. "Let's head out together. It's safer that way, and we live pretty close to each other."
Gear in hand, they made their way to the front desk, where the station receptionist was engrossed in scribbling notes. As they approached, the receptionist glanced up at them with tired eyes. "Heading out together, huh?"
Laura nodded, feeling the need to explain. "We live close to each other," she said simply, not wanting to leave room for speculation.
The receptionist leaned forward slightly, his face growing serious. "Just be careful, alright? After what happened, I get uneasy seeing people head out this late."
Lucas offered a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll be fine. Don't worry."
The receptionist watched them go, his unease lingering long after the station doors closed behind them.
Lucas and Laura glanced up at the full moon, its silvery light casting sharp contrasts across the streets. It might have been a moment to admire its beauty, but the front of the station no longer held any sense of tranquility.
"Let's go," Lucas said quietly, breaking the silence as he began to walk. Laura followed wordlessly, their boots crunching softly against the stone in the otherwise lifeless night. The cool wind whipped through the empty streets, carrying with it the sharp bite of nearing winter. Lucas shivered involuntarily, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to keep warm.
"Do you need my coat?" Laura asked, her voice calm but tinged with concern.
Lucas waved her off, shaking his head. "No, it's fine. You'll freeze if you give me yours. I'll suffer the consequences for forgetting mine this morning." His tone was light, but the chill in the air cut through it.
"Okay," she replied simply. It wasn't much of a conversation. The silence between them stretched long, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of their footsteps echoing through the desolate streets. The weight of their earlier frustrations hung heavy, leaving little room for small talk.
After nearly twenty minutes of walking, Laura broke the silence abruptly. "Lucas, do you think I'm to blame for us not finding any clues?"
Lucas stopped so suddenly that Laura almost walked into him. He turned to her, his expression one of bewilderment. "What? Of course not! Why would you even think that?"
Laura hesitated, rubbing her arm nervously as she looked away. "If I had seen something—anything—when it happened, even just their silhouette, we'd have something to work with. But because I didn't, we're stuck. And now…" She trailed off, her voice heavy with guilt.
Lucas sighed deeply, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't let the Lieutenant's words get to you. She's just looking for someone to blame because we've hit a dead end. You didn't do anything wro—"
A sudden, sharp scream pierced the air, cutting off his words. It wasn't loud, but the pain in it was unmistakable. With almost no hesitation, the two officers broke into a sprint, following the direction of the sound.
Rounding a corner sharply, they came to an abrupt stop. There, in the middle of the street, lay an Ironguard officer clutching his chest, his breaths shallow and labored. His face was pale, his eyes wide with panic and pain.
"Hey! Are you alright?" Lucas called, kneeling quickly beside the man while Laura immediately drew her weapon, scanning their surroundings.
The wounded officer weakly raised a trembling hand, pointing down a narrow, dark alley nearby. "Ki...ller," he managed to gasp, the word barely audible.
Lucas and Laura's eyes widened in unison, a shared look of urgency passing between them. "Stay here," Lucas instructed firmly, laying the officer gently on the ground. The man gave a faint, pained nod, understanding the gravity of the situation.
Drawing his own weapon, Lucas rose to his feet, his expression grim. Laura nodded at him, and together they crept toward the dark alley, their footsteps measured and quiet. The closer they got, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, until the unmistakable, sickly-sweet smell of blood hit their noses like a solid wall.
Feeling an urgent need to act, the two officers quickened their pace, their breaths sharp and shallow as they neared the end of the alley. But the sight that greeted them brought their steps to an abrupt halt, their raised weapons faltering as icy dread gripped them.
In the dim glow of the moonlight, the scene unfolded like a nightmare. Against the far wall, a severed head was impaled on a jagged metal spike driven mercilessly through an eye socket. The skin was flayed and shredded, leaving patches of raw, glistening tissue that gleamed sickly in the faint light. Blood streamed from the ruined visage, trailing in dark rivulets down the cracked wall to pool at the ground below.
The body—or what remained of it—lay in grotesque disarray. Limbs were torn violently from their sockets, the jagged edges of bone protruding through ragged flesh. The arms and legs were strewn haphazardly, one crushed against a garbage heap, another half-submerged in a murky puddle of blood and grime. The torso, mangled and barely recognizable as human, was ravaged beyond comprehension. Sections of flesh were missing entirely, as though savaged by claws, exposing jagged ribs that jutted from the chest like cracked spears. The abdomen was a horrifying ruin, entrails spilling from the gaping cavity onto the blood-soaked ground in a tangled, glistening heap. The organs lay crushed and torn, their textures distorted and defiled. Blood painted every surface—the ground, the walls, even the alley's air seemed thick with its metallic stench.
And in the midst of the carnage stood a figure, bathed in eerie moonlight. Their back was turned to the officers, but the outline of wolf-like ears twitched faintly atop their head. Blood matted their hair and clothes, dripping in slow, rhythmic splatters that only added to the macabre symphony.
Laura and Lucas struggled to steady their weapons, their hands trembling as the gravity of what they were seeing threatened to overwhelm them. "Y-You're under—" Lucas began, his voice shaking with fear, but he never finished.
The figure moved.
With an unnatural swiftness, it leapt straight into the air, soaring high enough to almost clear the roof of the three-story building ahead. The impact of their landing against the wall echoed through the alley as they dug clawed fingers into the stone, scaling the remaining distance with effortless brutality. Gouges were left in the brickwork as they vanished onto the roof, leaving the two officers frozen in place.
Pale and visibly shaken, Lucas and Laura stood rooted to the ground. Their breaths came in shallow gasps, their guns quivering in unsteady hands as the stench of blood clawed at their senses. Laura's hand flew to her mouth, her stomach churning violently as she fought to keep from vomiting. Lucas wasn't faring much better, his face drained of all color as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. The horror of what they had witnessed etched itself into their minds, a grotesque tableau that would haunt them forever.