In the dimly lit alley, a gruesome scene unfolded before the eyes of the onlookers. A multitude of people gathered around the lifeless body, their expressions filled with a mix of surprise and fear. Some couldn't contain their emotions, their tears streaming down their faces as they mourned the loss. They sat or lay on the cold ground, their grief palpable.
The detective, a stoic figure, stood there with a cold detachment. His eyes scanned the body of the young woman, a victim in her mid-twenties. Her once radiant blond hair now matted and stained with the evidence of violence. Numerous stab wounds marred her delicate skin, and even the echoes of gunshot wounds echoed in her lifeless form. A severed arm added to the macabre scene, and blood seemed to have painted the alley in a horrifying display.
Glancing back at his partner, the detective's gaze held an icy edge. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, causing his partner to instinctively cover his mouth and nose, fighting back the urge to vomit. "Lance, go throw up," Mitchell commanded, his voice laced with a mix of concern and impatience. Lance hurriedly made his way towards a nearby bar, seeking solace from the nauseating reality.
With Lance momentarily distracted, Mitchell took charge, forcefully urging the crowd to step back. His authoritative presence demanded attention as he pushed the curious onlookers away, creating some semblance of order amidst the chaos.
As he went about his duty, the detective's mind wandered, contemplating the nature of serial killers. "Serial Killers... humans, not monsters," Mitchell reminded himself, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. He knew all too well that these individuals didn't lurk solely in the shadows, but rather lived among ordinary people, blending seamlessly into society.
"True... we are the embodiment of our darkest desires and fears," a voice whispered, barely audible amidst the surrounding commotion. Mitchell's head jerked around, searching for the source of the enigmatic voice. However, all he could see were two white balloons entwined around a bloodstained knife and a gun. The chilling sight only served to deepen the mystery that lay before him, leaving him with more questions than answers.
As Mitchell continued to investigate the gruesome crime scene, the weight of the situation began to settle heavily on his shoulders. The alley seemed to close in around him, the walls whispering secrets that he couldn't decipher. He couldn't ignore the overwhelming sense of dread that permeated the air, as if the darkness itself was watching, waiting.
The flickering lights above cast eerie shadows, dancing and contorting with each gust of wind. Mitchell's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of evidence before him. The brutality of the murder sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of the evil that lurked within the depths of humanity.
His thoughts drifted back to the victim, wondering who she was and what led her to this tragic end. Was she a random target, chosen by a deranged mind, or was there a deeper connection? Mitchell's determination to bring justice burned within him, fueling his every move.
As he meticulously examined the crime scene, Mitchell couldn't help but notice the haunting silence that enveloped the alley. The usual sounds of the city seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of his own breathing and the distant echo of footsteps from passerby. It was as if time had momentarily frozen, allowing him to delve deeper into the darkness that had consumed this young woman's life.
The scent of blood and decay lingered in his nostrils, a constant reminder of the horrors he was tasked to confront. Every step he took, every piece of evidence he collected, brought him closer to unraveling the truth. But with each revelation, the line between his duty as a detective and the weight of his own mortality blurred.
In the midst of the chaos, Mitchell's resolve remained unyielding. He knew that the answers lay hidden within the twisted minds of those who committed such heinous acts. And as he stared at the enigmatic white balloons, a chilling symbol of the unknown, he vowed to uncover the truth, no matter how deep it led him into the abyss of human darkness.
As Mitchell looked over the body, multiple other cop cars showed up, about 15-20 cops interviewing people and taking pictures. Mitchell starts walking down the allay, searching for more clues before he spots what looks to be droplets of a gold liquid on the ground, they look out of place.. Mitchell walks over to the strange liquid and kneels down to look over it before a cop walks over, tapping Mitchell on the shoulder causing Mitchell to get startled and jump up back to his feet.
"Detective Grant, we found something." The cop says.
"Very well, thank you, Officer Sato." Mitchell says walking back over to the body with the cop.
"What do we got?" Mitchell asks.
"We found a piece of white hair, doesn't belong to the victim." The medical examiner says.
"Put it in an evidence bag, sir. Does anyone in the area have white hair and a criminal record?" Mitchell asks, glancing at the cop.
"A man known as Roman Hart, he has 1 count
of murder." The cop says.
"Right, I'll speak with him. His address?" Mitchell asks.
"127 Rudy St.." The cop says.
"Well, I'll be going, collect some of that gold liquid from the ground. Contact me if any new information is found." Mitchell says, walking towards his car.
Once Mitchell reaches the house he steps out his car and looks over the house. It was a nice house for a murderer. He steps onto the porch and knocks on the door. After a short minute a tall male opens the front door.
"Hello, are you Mr. Hart?" Mitchell asks.
The man pauses before nodding.
"Yes, I am. Do you need something, detective?" Mr. Hart says coldly.
Mitchell blinks, surprised by Mr. Hart's coldness.
"May I speak with you?" Mitchell asks.
"I suppose so, sir. Come in." Mr. Hart says.
They walk into the house and Mitchell takes a seat the table, glancing around the house.
"Coffee?" Mr. Hart asks, grabbing 2 mugs.
"Erm.. black.." Mitchell mutters.
Mr. Hart hands a cup of coffee to Mitchell and sits down across from him, sipping some coffee.
"Thank you. So, you wouldn't happen to know any blond haired females would you?" Mitchell asks.
"No, I don't. Why do you ask?" Mr. Hart asks.
"A female was found dead in an alley at 7:30am today and a white hair was found on scene."
"I see.. and you think i have something to do with it?"
"Well you're the only one with pure white hair in this city.. but I won't accuse anyone till i get the information i need.."
"Very well, go ahead, sir."
YOU ARE READING
White Balloons.
RomanceThe story of a great detective known as Mitchel Grant falling in love with the serial killer he was suppose to catch, Roman Hart, a demon known as The White Balloon killer.
