A black Limo pulled over by a beautiful mansion. The driver came out and opened up the door and a hot 20-year-old guy alighted from it. His bright Leo eyes flickering under the rays of the autumn and his silky brown hair smoothly arranged in spiky textured manner.
"Mr. Mercen" a voice called out.
Mercen turned around, he faced Ridka who smiled back at him. They were long term friends from childhood but we're separated in teenage-hood. Ridka had come to deliver a message to this C.E.O, unknown to him that it was his best friend Mercen.
They exchanged pleasantries and for a while, Ridka knew that he had seen this face before.....but where?
But he was sure that it wasn't Mercen....
Flashback
Bumuura called Ridka to his office. "You know, Ridka.." he said, taking a sip of his black coffee off his white tea-cup. He gently placed it on the saucer across the table and continued "I've been meaning to ask you this; given that you are committed in working with me as a minor detective, you might as well know this...that night...in that hospital, I was present...the slaughter was unforgivable"
Mercen stood still but with the curiousity to know more of what Bumuura was saying
"I had gone to investigate Mr. Hardy that night and....I saw hell..."
Bumuura suddenly snapped out of his grievance and with a bit of a hateful tone, he said
"I'm going to show the world this son of a bitch, he can't get away with it. Make a painting of my description..."
Present
Ridka clutched the sheet of paper tightly, 'this was impossible right?'
But then...on the night of the incident, Mercen was missing too. This couldn't be right Mercen couldn't be the killer...but still, all the evidence and research he made all pointed to one person... Mercen?!