Chapter 2: The Silent Clue
The pale morning light filtered through the blinds of Calvin's room as he meticulously adjusted his tie in the mirror. Even though it wasn't required, Calvin always dressed sharply—a symbol of his mental discipline. His reflection revealed a pair of sharp brown eyes framed by neatly combed black hair. It was a contrast to the youthful energy he often displayed when not immersed in a case. Today, however, his face bore the weight of unfinished work.
The chessboard lay open on his desk, the pieces frozen mid-game. It wasn't an ordinary chess match but a clue left by the elusive mastermind behind the city's unsolved cases. The previous night, Calvin had cracked part of the cipher etched on the white king.
"Checkmate in three moves," Calvin muttered, staring at the board.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was his father, Mr. Carter, the brilliant lawyer and his secret benefactor.
"Calvin," his father's deep voice carried urgency, "Another case just landed. There's been a robbery at the Hamilton Art Museum. A priceless painting has vanished, and the security footage was wiped clean."
"A perfect heist?" Calvin mused, intrigued. "I'm on my way."
Calvin arrives at the museum, the sound of the forensics team was buzzing,sirens were off.
The museum was buzzing with police officers, reporters, and confused staff. Calvin slipped past the crowd with ease, using his compact frame and youthful looks to his advantage. His school backpack, slung over one shoulder, looked harmless, but it was equipped with tools—a magnifying glass, a compact fingerprint kit, and his secret weapon: a gadget watch his father had custom-built for him.
Detective Hardy, a seasoned investigator, spotted Calvin and frowned. "You again? Don't you have school?"
Calvin smirked. "Consider this extracurricular." He moved past Hardy before the man could object, heading straight to the gallery where the painting was stolen.
The room was a pristine display of modern art, except for the empty frame that once held The Solitude. Calvin's sharp eyes scanned the area. He dropped to a crouch, inspecting the floor and nearby furniture.
"What are you looking for?" Hardy called out, exasperated.
Calvin didn't answer immediately. His mind was already working in overdrive, analyzing every detail. Finally, he stood, holding a single fiber—a faint trace of black material.
"Latex," Calvin said. "The thief wore gloves, but they slipped up."
Calvin says walking up to the surveillance room
Calvin examined the wiped security system with the help of a museum technician. "The footage didn't just disappear," Calvin said. "It was erased selectively. This isn't a brute-force hack; it's precision."
The technician nodded nervously. "That's right. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."
Calvin tapped his watch, activating its holographic interface. "Let's retrieve the fragments they thought they erased."
Within minutes, the partial footage reappeared. The screen showed a shadowy figure darting across the gallery, their movements too fluid to be random. Calvin froze the frame. A faint glimmer on the intruder's wrist caught his attention.
"A watch," Calvin said to himself. "Not just any watch—it's emitting a signal."
Calvin stepped outside the museum just as a black motorcycle roared to life in the alley. The rider, clad in black, matched the figure from the footage. Calvin's pulse quickened as he sprinted after the thief, dodging pedestrians and vaulting over obstacles with agility honed by hours of parkour training.
"Stop!" Calvin shouted, knowing full well the thief wouldn't comply.
The motorcycle turned sharply into a narrow lane. Calvin didn't slow down. He veered left, climbing a fire escape with practiced ease. From above, he tracked the rider, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.
As the motorcycle sped past a sharp bend, Calvin leaped, landing just short of the rider but causing them to skid. The bike toppled, and the thief rolled to their feet, pulling out a weapon— a compact taser.
"Nice trick, kid," the thief said, their voice muffled by a mask.
"Thanks," Calvin replied, his stance shifting into a fighting position. "Want to see another?"
The thief disappeared into the shadows after a brief scuffle, leaving Calvin empty-handed but not without a lead. He picked up the taser they had dropped—a sleek, custom model with a faint engraving: Ravencorp.
"That's new," Calvin muttered, pocketing the device.
As sirens approached, Calvin slipped back into the alley, unnoticed. The thief might have escaped, but Calvin was closing in. With each unsolved case, the web of mystery grew tighter. And Calvin? He was just getting started.