Joahna Moriarty sat in the polished office of the Royal Police, facing Commissioner Stanley Hopkins across his massive oak desk. The room was filled with the faint smell of tobacco and the weight of countless cases solved and unsolved. Hopkins, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanor, leaned back in his chair, studying her with a keen eye.
"Alright, Detective Moriarty," Hopkins began, lighting a cigar. "Tell me everything about your encounter with The Butcher."
Joahna took a deep breath, her mind replaying the harrowing events of the previous night. "I was walking home after visiting Hell's Kitchen. The streets were quiet, and then he appeared. The Butcher, in all his terrifying glory. He lunged at me with that red cleaver of his. We fought, and I managed to hold my ground, but it was clear he had the upper hand. That's when Victor Delacroix showed up and saved me."
