The Pulse was buzzing—literally and metaphorically. The crowd still hummed with shock from the earlier murder, a blend of exhilaration and terror hanging thick in the air like the scent of cheap cologne and spilled drinks. I stood at the bar, nursing a whiskey that was more ice than anything else, trying to blend in while keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.
Lucian Stone stood beside me, his posture relaxed but his eyes darting around like he was on a treasure hunt. "This place is a gold mine for trouble, Hayes," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "You think we'll find the killer in here, or is it just another night for the Eastbridge nightlife?"
I chuckled, leaning closer. "With my luck? Probably both. Though it'd be nice if trouble came with a name tag."
Detective Harper and Officer Lee were in full control mode, ensuring nobody left the club until they gathered every scrap of evidence. Harper, with his badge glinting under the dim strobe lights, commanded the room with the confidence of a seasoned leader. His badge—a silver shield with the words "Eastbridge Police Department" etched in bold letters—was a symbol of authority, though the nightlife atmosphere made it seem slightly out of place.
Lee, meanwhile, was barking orders with the authority of a drill sergeant, his badge clipped to his belt, reflecting the neon colors of the club like a tiny disco ball. "No one leaves until we get answers!" he bellowed, glancing our way with an enthusiastic grin that was almost infectious. If you ignored the fact that we were in a nightclub instead of a boot camp, it was remarkable how he managed to keep a lighthearted air amidst the chaos, especially given how terrified he usually was at crime scenes.
Harper stepped closer, his brow furrowed in concentration. "We need to talk to witnesses, gather statements, and make sure everyone's clear on what happened." He shot a quick glance around the club, taking in the frantic faces of partygoers, their fun abruptly turned to fear. "And, Lee, try to keep it professional. We're not here to give out dance lessons."
"Hey, I can do both!" Lee shot back, his playful nature shining through. "But you know what they say: dancing is just controlled falling. I've got that down to an art."
Harper chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Focus, partner. We've got a job to do." He turned serious again, his tone sharpening.
"Right, because everyone is just itching to help with the police work while they're three drinks in," I muttered, shaking my head.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Got a point there. But you know what? Let's see what we can dig up while they do their thing."
As we moved carefully through the thrumming crowd, I kept my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. The chaos had eased somewhat, but an undercurrent of tension still hung in the air. My gaze caught a subtle glint near the restroom doorway—a strand of hair, almost blending into the shadows. I crouched low to get a better look, a thrill of discovery pulsing within me.
"Lucian," I murmured, discreetly beckoning him over.
He knelt beside me, his expression serious. "Nice find. Could be the victim's or… someone else's," he replied, casting a quick glance toward the bar, where the bartender continued his routine, seemingly unaware.
I nodded, feeling a sense of urgency. "If the killer was here, he might still be lurking around. We can't let this slip through our fingers."
As we straightened up, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. "Do you notice those scuff marks on the floor?" I pointed. "They look like they could be from a struggle. Maybe the victim fought back."
"Or maybe the killer just got sloppy," Lucian replied, his voice low. "Either way, we should check in with the bartender. Maybe he saw something."
We moved toward the bar, where the bartender was busy wiping down the counter, his movements almost robotic, like he was stuck in some mindless routine.
"Hey there," I said, trying to sound casual. "Just a couple of quick questions. It's been a wild night, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, just another crazy night at The Pulse," he replied, his tone flat, almost rehearsed.
Lucian leaned in, adopting a friendly demeanor. "You were working when everything went down, right? Must have been quite a scene. Did you see anything unusual?"
He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Nope, just the usual crowd. People enjoying themselves."
"Interesting," I chimed in, feigning nonchalance. "You're telling me that no one seemed out of place? No loud arguments or strange characters?"
The bartender wiped the counter with a little too much fervor, the cloth squeaking against the surface. "Nothing like that," he insisted, though his eyes darted to the side as if searching for an escape route.
Lucian exchanged a glance with me, sensing the tension that hung thick in the air. "You know, it's funny. I caught a glimpse of something unusual on the floor—a strand of hair. Makes you wonder who else might have been here tonight."
The bartender froze for a heartbeat, then continued wiping the bar, but I noticed the way his hands trembled slightly. "Could belong to anyone," he said quickly, shrugging as if dismissing the thought.
"Sure, but it's strange, don't you think?" I pressed, watching for any signs of a crack in his calm exterior. "You seemed to vanish right when the chaos began. I'm sure you figured out something important in the middle of all that."
At that, his calm facade cracked ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of panic. "I just did my job. I was busy serving drinks," he repeated, but there was an edge of desperation in his voice now.
Lucian leaned closer, his expression turning serious. "You really expect us to believe that? You were right there when it happened. Surely you saw something."
As we continued our conversation, I noticed small details that added to the unease. His sleeves were rolled up higher than I remembered from our earlier encounter—perhaps to hide something. I could've sworn he was wearing a different shirt, too, one that looked cleaner than what he had on before.
"Funny how you changed shirts so quickly," I said, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. "Some people say a killer can't wash off the blood so easily."
His eyes narrowed, voice rising defensively. "Are you insinuating that I had anything to do with it?"
"Just pointing out the oddities," I replied, keeping my tone light, even as the atmosphere thickened around us. "We're just trying to connect the dots here."
"Why would you be in the middle of all this?" the bartender inquired, brow furrowing. "It's almost as if you're detectives."
"We make it a habit of seeking answers in these kinds of situations," I shot back, a smile tugging at my lips. "Plus, you seem much smarter than you let on. You're no ordinary fella."
Lucian stepped closer, his gaze sharp enough to cut through the tension. "And you don't look like a man simply going about his business. You're sweating. Is there something you're not telling us?"
The bartender swallowed hard, his throat bobbing nervously. "Look, I've told you everything I know! You can't pin this on me!"
I could feel the tension crackling in the air, growing thicker as the bartender's calm façade began to slip. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between us, clearly unsettled. I leaned in, my voice low, almost conversational, but every word had a purpose. "It's strange, isn't it? You were right here, but you don't seem interested in telling us what you might've seen. Makes it look like you've got something to hide."
The bartender scoffed, trying to wave us off. "Look, I've got nothing to hide. I didn't see anything, alright?"
Lucian stepped closer, his gaze locked on the man. "That's odd, because for someone who didn't see anything, you sure got out of that shirt fast. And it's a shame… You missed a spot," he said, his eyes landing on a small, faint smudge near the bartender's collar.
The bartender's jaw clenched as he tugged at his shirt, giving a strained laugh. "It was busy. Drinks spilled. Happens all the time."
"Oh, sure," I replied, nodding. "Just like how scuff marks appear out of nowhere, right? We saw them, back near the restroom door. Looked like a struggle. Makes sense if the killer was sloppy, maybe even slipped. Right?"
The bartender's face drained of color. "Anyone could have made those scuff marks! People stumble around all the time."
"True," I allowed, before Lucian seized the man's wrist, turning his hand with a quick, almost clinical motion. Beneath the cuff of his sleeve, a small, fresh scrape cut across his knuckles.
The bartender tried to jerk his hand back, his eyes widening in panic. "This proves nothing!"
"Does it?" I said, watching him closely, savoring the growing discomfort in his eyes. "Could be a coincidence. Or maybe you stumbled. Lost your grip."
The bartender swallowed, his voice wavering. "You—you're making assumptions. It doesn't mean anything."
Lucian tilted his head, giving a small, amused smile. "So, we're just supposed to ignore the hair?" He reached forward, plucking a fine strand off the bartender's sleeve, holding it up to the light for effect. "Funny, don't you think? Seems to be a match for what we found at the scene. Coincidence?"
The bartender's face twisted, but he forced out a laugh. "Lots of people have brown hair. That doesn't prove I did anything!"
"True again," I said, leaning closer until he had nowhere to look but right at me. "Except when it's paired with a freshly sharpened knife, wiped down a bit too hastily. Strange that a knife behind the bar would be cleaned so carefully and then left out. Not to mention, it's still damp."
A bead of sweat trickled down the bartender's forehead as he shifted, his gaze flitting between us, desperately searching for a way out. His calm had cracked entirely now, panic gleaming in his eyes.
Finally, when it felt like the weight of our questioning pressed down on him, I leaned in, letting each word land like a hammer blow. "You disappeared right when the incident happened," I said slowly, watching as his knuckles tightened around the bar edge, his jaw clenching harder with every word. "Only to reappear just before anyone noticed what you'd done. We know you're involved. The only question now is how you pulled it off—it's too precise, too much like Cipher's methods."
I paused, letting the words sink in. A thin sheen of sweat had broken across his forehead, glistening under the dim lights, and he swallowed, throat bobbing visibly as he tried to maintain composure. But his gaze kept flickering away from us, as if something else held his attention in the shadows beyond the bar.
"You're working with him, aren't you?" I pressed, my voice dropping to a cold whisper. "Who is—"
But just as I was about to finish, he jerked backward, his breath hitching as panic exploded across his face. His eyes kept darting to a spot around us, wide with a growing terror that seemed to coil through his body like a spring ready to snap.
I shot Lucian a look, and he gave a quick nod—he'd noticed the same thing. A split-second calculation flickered across the bartender's face, like he was weighing his chances. Then he bolted, shoving back from the bar and tearing through the crowd, a rabbit fleeing from a fox.
Detective Harper and Officer Lee caught sight of the bartender bolting toward the back exit, his movements frantic. Harper's eyes flicked to us, understanding sharp in his gaze. "Go after him," he instructed Lee, his voice low and steady. "It seems we've found our man."
Without hesitation, Lee nodded and took off after the bartender, dodging through the crowd as he yelled, "Hey! Stop!"
Lucian and I exchanged a quick look, and I gestured to the exit. "Let's move, quietly," I urged. We slipped through the crowd, adrenaline spiking as we reached the door, Harper close on our heels. Outside, we spotted Lee in the dim distance, his figure weaving between pools of light and shadow as he pursued the bartender's silhouette disappearing into an alley.
"Didn't think bartenders were that spry," I muttered, breathing hard as I picked up my pace to keep up with Lee. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as we followed them down the dark alley, the pulsing sounds of the club fading into silence behind us.
I felt a knot of tension twist in my stomach as we rounded the corner, half-expecting the bartender to be lying in wait, ready to fight—or worse, already gone. The alley stretched on, dimly lit, with only the faint scrape of footsteps echoing against the walls.
But what I found instead stopped me in my tracks. Lee was kneeling over something, his face pale under the glow of a nearby streetlight.
"Oh no," I whispered, horror flooding my system. There, sprawled on the ground, was the bartender—mutilated, blood pooling around him like a sinister glow, casting a gruesome light in the darkness of the alley.
"What just happened?" I breathed, glancing around. The alley was eerily quiet now, the sounds of the club completely swallowed by the darkness.
Lee looked up, his expression a mix of shock and fury. "I chased him here, but I didn't get to him in time. I just found him like this."
Before I could respond, a shadow flickered at the edge of my vision. "Did you see that?" I asked, turning just in time to see a figure dart away into the night. "What was that?"
"Damn it!" Lee cursed, scrambling back to his feet, his gaze darting into the dark. "I saw someone move too! We have to go!"
"We won't be able to catch up." Lucian's voice was low, urgent, as he scanned the shadows. "Did you see who it was?"
Lee shook his head, frustration tightening his expression. "No, but they were fast. Too fast."
Just then, Harper caught up to us, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto the body slumped in the alley's oppressive shadows. The stench of decay mingled with the distant thrum of the nightclub, creating a nauseating backdrop for our grim discovery. He scanned the scene, his jaw tightening. "We're too late, aren't we?"
My heart raced as I absorbed the sight of the lifeless form at our feet, dread coiling in my stomach. "That was Cipher's doing," I said, my voice dropping to a hushed whisper, the realization slicing through me like a knife. "We've stumbled into something far bigger than we thought."
Lee's expression darkened, a flicker of fear crossing his features. "I know his methods—swift, brutal… and he always leaves a message." He swallowed hard, trembling slightly as if the shadows themselves were closing in around us. "But I didn't expect to confront him this close. He is a monster."
"Great," I muttered, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Just what we need—a killer who plays by his own rules."
Lucian's gaze was sharp, penetrating as he locked eyes with me. "This isn't just about the city anymore, Hayes. Cipher is issuing a direct challenge to us. He's not going to stop until he gets what he wants."
A chill slithered down my spine at the weight of his words. We were in over our heads, entangled in a web spun by a mind that thrived on chaos.
"Well, I came here to investigate Cipher, but he beat me to it," Lucian said, a manic smile creeping across his lips that sent a shiver down my spine. "He's challenging me."
"Interesting," he continued, his excitement palpable.
Lee stepped forward, eyes wide with a mix of realization, admiration, and disbelief. "Wait, I know you! Lucian Stone—the legendary special agent, the second-best student ever produced by ISI, and a pivotal member of Nexus!"
Harper scoffed, a dry humor lacing his tone. "Oh, so we have our rival on this case as well."
Lucian straightened, confidence radiating from him like a beacon in the darkness. "Detective Harper and Officer Lee, both top graduates of ISI, brought in for this case by OTF Zero. You're all among the finest students produced by the institute, so I see why you're here. It seems my competition just got tougher. You've got a solid team here, Hayes."
"Seems you've done your homework on my team," I replied, casting him a sidelong glance. "But I told you before, this isn't a competition, Lucian." I cast a heavy gaze his way, uncertainty gnawing at my insides like a persistent rat.
"Well, whether you want it to be or not, this just got more interesting," he said, a sly grin creeping across his face. With that, his silhouette began to blend into the inky blackness of the alley. "But Hayes, I'm sure you've pieced something together by now. I'll wait until later; you and I are getting closer to catching Cipher. The next time we meet, we'll find him. Until then…" His voice trailed off, the last syllable hanging in the air like a specter, and then he vanished into the night, leaving an unsettling void in his wake.
Harper raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What was that about?"
"Nothing," I replied, shaking off the feeling of unease that clung to me like a shroud. "Anyway, we need to head back and report to Victor." The weight of our discovery hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that pressed down on us.
At OTF Zero, the team assigned to Cipher's case convened in a dimly lit, secret room. Victor Grey sat in a high-backed chair, exuding authority, flanked by Marcus Hale. Lee, Harper, and I filled the remaining seats, tension palpable in the air as we prepared to report our findings.
"Cipher is moving faster than we anticipated," I said, my tone grave as I scanned the faces around me. "We need to prepare for the worst."
Victor leaned forward, the light catching the sharp lines of his face. "And you mentioned that Nexus's best agent was at the scene and that he did his research on our movements. That is bothersome."
"I can handle Lucian," I replied, my confidence unwavering.
Marcus interjected, his voice laced with concern. "That's not the problem. They may have more ISI elites helping them in their case. Lucian is enough of a challenge; they might get closer to catching Cipher."
Victor's expression darkened. "If that happens, all our time and resources that Elise gathered and put together will go to waste. The government isn't going to give us another opportunity, and the reputations of OTF Zero and ISI might be at stake."
A heavy silence settled over the room, thick with the weight of our predicament. I broke it, sensing the urgency. "Lucian mentioned something I discovered, and I'm sure he did as well. When we confronted the bartender, he was terrified. At one point, he fixed his gaze on a specific spot, almost as if he were trying to communicate something without saying a word."
Harper leaned in, curiosity piqued. "Isn't it normal for someone who committed a crime to show fear?"
I met his gaze, urgency creeping into my voice. "You'd think so. But if he worked with Cipher and committed the murder, why would he still be looking in that direction? It doesn't add up."
Lee chimed in, brow furrowed. "It doesn't make sense."
I paused, weighing my words carefully. "Here's what I figured out: the time interval between the crime and when the bartender disappeared aligns perfectly. But the victim was only found shortly after he vanished. For the bartender to kill the victim and clean up all that evidence in such a short window? It's impossible."
Understanding dawned on Harper's face. "Which means everything was set up to make it look like the bartender did it, but it was—"
"Exactly," I interrupted. "It was actually Cipher who committed the murder."
The room fell silent, the implications sinking in. Victor broke the stillness, his voice steady but urgent. "Are you sure?"
"That's what I discovered," I affirmed. "And I'm certain Lucian pieced this together too."
Harper nodded slowly, realization sharpening his features. "So that's what his last statement was about."
"The fact that when we confronted the bartender," I continued, urgency rising in my chest, "and he kept glancing at a specific point in the bar, indicates that he knows who Cipher is and was terrified of revealing Cipher's true identity. There's some connection between them—I don't know how, but that's the most logical conclusion. At that moment, he was—"
Marcus finished my thought, his voice low and steady, a shiver of realization running through the room. "He was looking at Cipher at that moment."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of those words settling like a dark cloud.
Victor broke the heavy silence that enveloped the room, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. "It means we are closer than ever to uncovering Cipher's identity. But let's not underestimate what that entails. Jasper, you are our best agent, and this team is the most formidable we can assemble. We've put everything on the line for this."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in, and I could feel the tension building in the air. The stakes were impossibly high, and the reality of our situation pressed down on us like a lead weight. "Whatever happens, we must reach Cipher first, before Nexus does. We cannot allow them to get the upper hand. That's an order."
I took a deep breath, my mind racing with the implications of his directive. The thought of Nexus closing in sent chills down my spine. "Victor, we're not just racing against time; we're up against an adversary who plays by his own rules. Cipher won't make this easy. We have to be meticulous, strategic. Any misstep could be catastrophic."
Victor nodded, his expression grave. "I know the risks. That's why I'm counting on you and this team. Trust your instincts and each other. We need to anticipate Cipher's moves, stay one step ahead. If he senses we're onto him, there's no telling what he might do."
The room was silent as we absorbed his words. The responsibility felt like a heavy mantle resting on my shoulders, but I steeled myself, determined to rise to the occasion. "We'll get to him first, Victor. I promise you that."
The air crackled with tension as we prepared to face the storm ahead. We were on the brink of something monumental, and failure was not an option.