The sirens and police lights began to fill the street as several flying vehicles descended at full speed and began to surround Jake.
Men in black mechanical suits descended from the cars and approached Jake without receiving any harm. One of them approached Jake to check his vital signs while the others surrounded him, aiming their futuristic weapons around.
"He's alive," the man gestured for the ambulance to come down and begin treating the wounded.
Paramedics used a strange machine to quickly stitch Jake's wounds, leaving almost no evidence of the horrible injuries. They also administered serums and conducted a thorough body analysis.
"How is he?" asked the policeman.
"Much better than it seemed," the paramedic replied. "He lost a lot of blood and energy but he's not really in danger."
The policeman nodded and looked around with a furrowed brow.
"Team 1, check the right; team 2, the left. Find that son of a bitch!"
"Yes, sir!"
...
Jake woke up in the bed of a small simply decorated room. There was only a bed, two chairs, and a small table.
The first thing he did upon waking up was to check his wounds.
"Incredible! Medicine in this world is on another level."
The only evidence of the stabbings that Jake could see were some white marks that were almost indiscernible.
His body was in incredible shape and full of energy.
Ten minutes after waking up, more than four agents entered the room and looked at him strangely.
"Good to know you're okay," a middle-aged man with short brown hair and a stern look spoke to him. "I'm Captain Sanders, nice to meet you, Jake Hurkacs."
"We understand it may be too soon, but we need your statement," said one of them. "It's very important since we haven't been able to capture the suspect. Maybe something in your statement can help us."
"I couldn't see much about him, he was wearing a hoodie that covered his head and even a bandana to hide his face. All I could see were his brown eyes," Jake was honest with the police. He had no reason to lie to them and really wanted them to catch the guy.
"A clue!" one of the policemen jumped excitedly and began to write in a notebook.
The captain frowned at his enthusiasm and saw that Jake also found this behavior strange.
"I won't lie to you," the captain shook his head. "We've been after this guy for a long time but we hadn't found a single clue, until now."
"That's not a clue," one of the policemen was more negative. "Thousands of people share that eye color."
The captain frowned but didn't deny what was said.
"I know this may be considered very intrusive on our part," the captain hesitated for a long time before continuing. "But you would help us a lot if you allowed us to see the records of your day."
Jake's eyes blinked before narrowing with annoyance.
"That's private!" He said almost instinctively.
The records were recordings taken by his eyes throughout the day. It was a function integrated into the PRS technology of his hand tattoo.
Especially useful for forgetful or senile people.
They were files that were updated and deleted every so often to protect people's privacy and could not be accessed without the permission of the person in question.
Even more so after the personal privacy agreements imposed after the civil war over 200 years ago.
"We understand. It would be a violation of your privacy... But we really want to catch that bastard," the captain gritted his teeth.
"Why?" Jake asked intrigued.
It was true that a policeman's job was to catch criminals, but this eagerness was not normal.
"We have to tell him, captain," the policeman who had celebrated earlier whispered to his captain. "We don't know if he might suffer another attack."
Captain Sanders thought about it carefully and, understanding that he was asking a lot of Jake, agreed.
"We believe that the guy who attacked you is a cruel serial killer, whom we are tracking."
Jake took a few seconds to fully understand what he had just heard.
"A serial killer?"
"Yes," the negative policeman nodded with a furrowed brow. "We're certain of over 237 murders committed by him."
"237?!" Jake was startled by the ridiculous number. "That guy had killed so many people? How come you haven't caught him yet?"
"He never leaves survivors!" The captain replied emphatically.
"But..." Jake's eyes widened in shock.
"That's right," the captain nodded. "You're the first victim who managed to escape from him."
"That's why we believe he might try to attack you again," another policeman followed, causing the captain to look at him harshly.
They didn't want to scare the boy who had barely survived the attack by that maniac.
When he tried to turn to reassure Jake, he found himself met with red eyes staring into nothingness with anger.
"I want to see him try again," he said through gritted teeth. "And this time he won't get away with just a stab."
"What?" the captain asked, unable to believe what he had just heard.
"I agree to share my daily record," Jake said without responding to the captain's question.
The officers rejoiced and began to organize a meeting room. Although Jake could join his wrists and share what he saw, it was not practical since the records had to be viewed by different professionals.
The profiler, the forensic scientists, the officers, captains, and even some advanced AI.
When everyone gathered in the meeting room, Jake placed his tattoo against an electronic device on the wall and asked to see his records.
"Are you sure you want to share your record?"
"Yes," replied Jake.
The wall in front of the room began to transform and transmit images.
The transmission began when he woke up to find he had no water in his shower.
Since he didn't want the police to see his family fight, he fast-forwarded the time. The images moved very quickly to the fights in the special class and his own fight, which surprised the policemen a bit.
"Is he in the special class?"
"I think so."
"Well, at least you need that skill to survive the dismemberer, right?"
Jake ignored their comments and let the images continue just before finishing his training in the park.
The scenes changed to where he was walking lost in his thoughts and then collided with a man dressed entirely in black.
Like Jake, several officers were stunned by the suddenness of the situation. One moment you're walking calmly and the next you have a knife in your stomach.
The scenes unfolded as Jake remembered. The panic, his struggle to push the man away, but everything changed when the man let out a little laugh.
That could be called the moment when the murder was truly frustrated.
Jake stopped fighting blindly and in panic. Anger and the desire to survive made him act quickly and decisively.
He hit an area that could be called forbidden and vulgar. But at that moment, Jake didn't care about anything other than knowing that was a weak spot; he didn't care about honor or a fair fight.
The images follow Jake fleeing and calling the police, only to be back in the clutches of the killer.
Many in the room were horrified to see Jake practically at the mercy of the man, and he stabbed him mercilessly.
They knew Jake had survived because they had him right in front of them. But the situation seemed so desperate and hopeless that they didn't know how he had managed to survive.
Furthermore, there was the fact that when they arrived, they only found Jake on the ground but no sign of the killer.
The images blurred for a few seconds before clearing up completely, and everyone stared fixedly into the killer's brown eyes.
"I'm going to kill you!" A guttural voice, sounding almost animalistic, was heard as a scream when the killer's gaze clouded over.
Everyone held their breath for a moment when they saw Jake pull the knife from his own abdomen to plunge it into the killer's chest.
"Hiss!" A forensic examiner took a cold breath as he stuttered a bit. "The knife was stabbed just a few centimeters from the heart. If the boy had stabbed a little more to the side, I would be examining the killer's corpse right now."
Whispers began to circulate among the officers as they looked at Jake.