Soft lamplight spills over an array of documents and photographs spread out on my coffee table, casting long shadows across the room.
With a fierce determination burning in my eyes, I sit cross-legged on the floor, meticulously examining each piece of evidence.
They say the truth is stranger than fiction, and in my case, it's also far more elusive. Mr. Cruel isn't an easy guy to hack, but I'm determined to find whoever this despicable person is.
I pick up a photograph, studying it intently as if it holds the key to unraveling the mystery. Shadows dance across the girl's face, concealing more than they reveal.
Every detail holds a clue, every shadow a story waiting to be uncovered.
Around me, computer monitors display forensic reports, and my fingers fly across the keyboard as I sift through digital evidence.
In a world where secrets lurk behind every corner, the line between truth and deception blurs.
I lean back in my chair, frustration evident on my face as I hit a dead end in my investigation. Running a hand through my hair, I'm determined to press on.
I pace the living room, my phone clutched tightly in my hands, searching for any shred of information that could lead me closer to the truth.
The key to solving the puzzle lies in the stories people tell - and the ones they try to bury.
Seated at my dining table, a map of the city spread out before me, I connect dots with colored string, mapping out connections and potential leads.
In the solitude of my own home, I wage a silent battle against the darkness, determined to bring the truth to light.
Time becomes meaningless as I lose myself in the digital abyss, my only goal to unearth the truth buried within the endless stream of data.
Sifting through online forums and social media platforms, I piece together fragments of information like a digital detective, following digital breadcrumbs and tracing the digital footprint of my target.
I don't realize it's morning until the first rays of light filter through the curtains, illuminating my room and signaling the start of a new day in my relentless pursuit of justice.
from all I gathered,
Number 1: Mr. Cruel targeted young girls, typically between the ages of 10 and 14. He would break into homes during the night, often while the families were asleep.
Mr. Cruel would abduct his victims at gunpoint, sometimes taking them from their bedrooms, and would restrain them using bindings and blindfolds.
He would then take the girls to a secondary location, where he would assault them before eventually releasing them, often in remote areas.
Number 2 : The first recorded attack attributed to Mr. Cruel occurred in August 1987 when a 10-year-old girl was abducted from her home in Lower Plenty. She was assaulted and released.
In December 1988, another girl, aged 13, was abducted from her home in Canterbury. She was held captive for approximately 50 hours, assaulted, and then released.
The most well-known incident took place in July 1990 when a 13-year-old girl was abducted from her home in Kew. She was held captive for approximately 18 hours, assaulted, and then released in a remote area.
Number 3 : This Mr. Cruel case sparked one of the largest manhunts in Australian history, involving multiple law enforcement agencies.
Despite extensive investigations, including forensic analysis, behavioral profiling, and public appeals for information, the perpetrator remained elusive.
Number 4 : There have been various theories about the identity of Mr. Cruel, including speculation that he may have had some connection to education or youth work due to his knowledge of the victims' routines and the locations he targeted.
And I personally believe that Mr. Cruel may have been inspired by or emulated the tactics of infamous American serial killers such as the Zodiac Killer or the Golden State Killer.
The last piece of information I found was crucial: one of the victims mentioned that Mr. Cruel had reddish-brown hair and that she heard the sound of airplanes when she was with him.
The only airport near the victim's house was Tullamarine Airport.
A sense of satisfaction washed over me as I pieced together this puzzle, but my reverie was interrupted by a loud knock on the door followed by Kaius's voice.
"Open up, Cyra made something special for you," he yelled.
I grunted in response, lazily opening the door to let him in. Kaius proudly announced that Cyra's mother had visited, and Cyra had made pumpkin soup and blueberry muffins.
"Pumpkin for a pumpkin, hm? Just don't eat too much before your match tomorrow," I quipped, cracking my neck.
Rolling his eyes, Kaius left, and I got dressed, eager to visit the airport and nearby locations.
As I drove, I called Faye and instructed her not to contact me unless it was an order from Denver.
Arriving at the airport, I blended in with a family, carrying only my phone. Just as I stepped inside, my phone buzzed - it was Denver. I answered promptly, trying to sound cheerful.
"Greetings, sir," I said.
"Pleasant to hear from you, Rei. I've missed your voice since dusk," Denver responded in his characteristic calm tone.
I assured him I wasn't sick and just wanted a day for myself, enjoying the outdoors.
"That's understandable. I would love to accompany you, but work keeps me occupied," he replied, the tension palpable even through the phone.
My cheeks flushed with shyness, but my attention was diverted when I spotted a man dressed in all black, accompanied by an assistant.
The man's hair was unmistakably cherry red, and his face concealed by a mask.
It was a crucial lead - Mr. Cruel might be closer than I thought.