How astonishing! How dazzling! The police are now obstacles to my plans—my life's goal, which is more of a mission. I can't help but wonder which bastard orchestrated this assembly of faggots in blue uniforms. This must be the work of a top-notch detective. But how could he have pinpointed my next target? Could it be that he knows all of them? No, that's impossible. I have the book—the list of their names. There's no way he could have figured them out. This is preposterous. How far can logic stretch to arrive at this point? I must find the root of all this.
I check the time. It's just 8 p.m. I can't believe I tailed that man home for so long. But why was he alone? If I had known the police were all over his house, I would have tried luring him elsewhere—somewhere secluded—so I could kill him silently, even if it meant losing the chance to wipe out his family. I would have assumed the heavens decided to spare their lives, and I would've been satisfied with killing just him.
I need to start moving before they suspect my vehicle. The last thing I want is unnecessary attention from those officers. I've overstayed my welcome here. Though I'm parked far from that man's enormous house, there's still room for suspicion. He should thank his maker for keeping him and his family alive tonight.
As I drive, my mind races. A new enemy has emerged, and I need to figure out how to deal with them. What can I do now that the police are so involved, likely protecting all my targets? Think. Think harder. I need to come up with a solid plan...
****
The wind blew swiftly, caressing his skin. Roland sat on his porch, savoring the tranquility of the evening. His mind was at ease as his eyes lingered on the mesmerizing stars above. In that moment, he chose to let his thoughts wander freely in peace rather than be weighed down by worries.
Apart from the ongoing serial killer case, he had other pressing matters demanding his attention. The pressure was immense, but as a man who never wavered, he faced them all head-on. Many of his peers knew him as a man of principle and keen judgment. His graceful demeanor and unwavering charisma had earned him admiration from colleagues and family alike.
His intelligence and ability to adapt swiftly were among his most profound qualities. With an analytical mind and sharp reasoning, he had tackled countless cases over the years, earning him the title "Genius Detective."
As he gazed at the stars, a sudden chuckle escaped his lips. A childhood memory had surfaced—one that seemed almost ironic now. He recalled a day back in JSS 1 when his teacher had asked the class about their future aspirations. When it was his turn, he confidently declared that he wanted to be a detective. The entire class erupted into laughter, mocking his dream. Even his teacher, Mrs. Bola, a young woman at the time, had chuckled and gently urged him to consider other career paths.
At school, he had been known for his obsession with crime novels and detective films, earning him nicknames like "Mr. Detective," "Wannabe Detective," and the one that stuck—"Detective Roland." Who would have thought that the boy they once ridiculed would grow up to live his dream?
His parents had also disapproved, fearing the dangers that came with such a profession. They had tried to steer him away, but neither their concerns nor fate itself could deter him. Or perhaps, it was fate that had paved this path for him all along.
His thoughts drifted to his journey—earning a diploma in criminology and security, then a master's degree, and further sharpening his mind with studies in psychology.
Just then, his phone, resting beside him, rang, pulling him out of his reverie. He glanced at the screen, and a flicker of curiosity brightened his face. Answering the call, he listened intently. The voice on the other end spoke of something suspicious, prompting Roland to take immediate interest.
As the call ended, he remained still for a moment, processing the information. Then, slowly, a sinister smile curved his lips.
"I see… he took the bait. This is going to make things far more interesting." He chuckled to himself, his grin widening.
"Who will win this game of tag? Well… there's only one way to find out."
****
Linda found herself in an unfamiliar place. Her vision was blurry, but she could make out an odd-looking surrounding. She tried to move her body, only to realize she was restrained. A sharp wave of panic coursed through her as she discovered her hands and legs were tightly bound to a chair with thick ropes.
As her vision gradually cleared, she took in the dimly lit room, most of it shrouded in darkness. Her heart pounded as a chilling realization settled in—she was being held captive. Her eyes darted around, searching for her captors, but she saw no one.
Just as she was about to scream, a calm yet eerie voice whispered from behind, sending shivers down her spine.
"Linda..."
A cold dread settled over her. She had the urge to turn around, to see who had spoken, but her body was restrained.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" she demanded, her voice shaky.
But only pure silence answered.
She kept shouting, her voice growing more frantic, but there was no response. Fear tightened around her chest, and tears welled in her eyes. Just then, the voice returned—this time, it was closer.
"Oh, my sweet Linda, don't cry. Daddy and Mommy are with you. You're not alone."
A slow, creaking sound followed, like that of a chair being dragged across the floor. Linda's breath hitched as another chair appeared beside her.
She turned her head, and her heart nearly stopped.
Sitting beside her was her father. But his face—his once-familiar face—was barely recognizable. It was horribly burned, blood dripping from fresh wounds. He looked like he had been tortured.
She screamed.
"Dad! W-What happened to you?" she stammered, her voice trembling with shock.
Her father's eyes, clouded with pain, stared back at her.
"You did this… didn't you?" she accused, her gaze shifting to the unseen tormentor. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to us?"
A deep, unsettling chuckle filled the room.
"I think you already have an idea why I'm doing this," the voice teased.
Then, after a brief pause, it added in a mocking tone, "Oh, pardon me. I almost forgot to bring your mother by your side. Here she is"
Another creaking sound. Another chair.
Linda turned her head hesitantly, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. "Her mother."
Her face was intact, but her limbs… they were gone. Severed. Blood pooled beneath the chair. Both of her parents were barely clinging to life, their breathing shallow.
"Linda…" her mother whispered weakly, using the last of her strength.
Linda froze in horror, her sobs growing louder.
"Mommy… Daddy… please, hold on," she pleaded desperately, though deep inside, she knew there was no hope.
The voice spoke again, its tone disturbingly casual.
"I know you're wondering why I left your mother's face untouched. The thing is, women's faces are precious to me. I don't derive the same pleasure in disfiguring them as I do with men. But what am I saying? You're already in pain—you probably don't care about my reasoning." A sinister chuckle followed.
"You see, your parents' suffering—and your agony—bring me immense joy. But don't blame me for this. No, no. Blame them. They brought this upon themselves."
Linda's body trembled. "W-What did they do?" she sobbed.
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. But first, you need to feel a little pain yourself."
A metallic click echoed through the room. Linda's pulse skyrocketed. Her breath hitched as the presence moved closer. Then, from the shadows, a man emerged. His face was concealed behind a disturbing skull mask, and in his gloved hand, he held a gun. The barrel was aimed directly at her.
Linda's body stiffened. "A-Are you going to kill me?" she stuttered.
The man chuckled darkly. "Oh, don't worry. I always keep my word." Slowly, he lowered the gun, shifting its aim. "I think… your legs will do."
Linda's eyes widened in horror. She turned toward her parents, only to realize they were now completely still. Their eyes—wide open—stared lifelessly at her. A chill ran down her spine. Then— BANG! The gunshot echoed. Linda's body jolted—And she woke up.
Gasping. Trembling. Her heart racing wildly in her chest. It was all a dream. A nightmare.
Yet, even as she sat up in bed, her skin damp with sweat, she couldn't shake the overwhelming dread clawing at her chest. Something about that dream… felt too real. And that terrified her even more.