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[31] A Broken Mirror
🕑 Added 2024-07-01 16:28:55 +0000 UTCWIIUUUU! WIUUUUU! WIUWIUWIU!
Incessant sirens shattered the night's tranquility as familiar red and blue lights flashed arbitrarily all over the dark, old shipping docks. Police cars hastily skidded to a stop some distance away from the warehouse, with ambulances following behind. The police on the scene climbed out of their cars, their hands tightly clutching their pistols. There were quite a number of young faces, probably fresh police graduates from the academy. Dave Rodriguez was among the few who had been on night duty. He had sandy brown hair and an eternal worried look etched on his face as he stealthily walked toward the warehouse. He had been lazing around in his car together with his partner, a few miles from the shipping docks when he heard the unmistakable sound of bullets. The sounds had scared him and he was once reminded that New York City wasn't as peaceful as his hometown in South Carolina. In the end, It was Dave who had called for backup before daring to drive headfirst to the possible crime scene.
Dave swallowed a mouthful of saliva, an uneasy feeling rising inside his stomach, as his eyes were drawn to the plasma-carved door. The carved-out red surfaces were still emitting waves of heat and it meant that whatever had happened had been quick.
Dave turned on his flashlight, his colleagues following beside him as he stealthily moved towards the carved entrance. Taking a deep breath, he entered, his finger hovering over the trigger, ready to incapacitate any hostiles in the vicinity.
"THIS IS THE NYPD! I REPEAT, THIS IS THE NYPD! DROP ALL YOUR WEAPONS AND RAISE YOUR HANDS!"
Dave's eyebrows knitted together, his mouth hanging slightly open as he swept his flashlight back and forth, searching for any sign of movement in the empty warehouse. His weak flashlight didn't pick on any criminals waiting to ambush them.
'But what's with this nauseous smell? It reeks of iron, gunpowder, and horror... maybe even death.' Dave frowned heavily as he tried to sniff the air. Suddenly, he felt his boots step on something wet.
"Hmm?" Immediately, Dave directed his small flashlight toward his feet. There, lying on the ground, was a pool of dark red blood and shocked, fearful eyes gazing up at him. It was a decapitated head.
"Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God!" Dave Rodriguez screamed as he tripped on his feet due to the utter brutality and hellish nature of the scene. He found his butt kissing the blood-soaked ground, his legs paralyzed to even move a single muscle.
"What's wrong, Dave?" His partner, McDonald, worriedly walked up to him and tried to help him up, however, he also saw the grotesque display.
"Jesus!" McDonald muttered, the hand holding onto the flashlight trembling.
"We need the Captain's intervention ASAP, Dave. This is beyond our pay grade. And I don't think I'm ever eating meat again!"
Dave merely nodded, his eyes still lingering on the bodiless head.
McDonald sighed while watching Dave's shaken reaction. 'He's going to quit. There goes my third partner. We should tape this place before the captain and the forensics team arrive.'
Shaking his head, Officer McDonald began contacting the NYPD captain over the radio.
"Sir..."
...
A young male police officer raised the yellow crime scene tape for the newly arrived Captain George Stacy, Detective Becker, and the forensics team.
"Sir," McDonald approached Captain Stacy and respectfully saluted him before he focused on the woman following behind the captain. A look of pure surprise formed on his face. She was someone he had never seen around the department. Such a fine woman couldn't go unnoticed among the young male officers.
"Hello, Officer McDonald. What do we have here?" Captain Stacy nodded at him.
"Sir, this way," McDonald cleared his throat in slight embarrassment as he led the team through the 'artistic' entrance.
Detective Becker noticed the young man's gaze with her sharp senses, however, her attention had been occupied by the ruined door. She had developed the habit of starting her investigations the moment she approached a crime scene. Investigations weren't always limited to the internal environment but also extended to the external tidbits, just like the door.
"Plasma, laser... This is probably some high tech and whoever did this didn't shy away from going through the front door," Detective Becker subtly commented as she followed behind the two.
"Oh God!" She whispered as she carefully avoided stepping on the pool of blood and some lone body parts.
Captain Stacy clenched his jaws, a grimace settling on his face that seemed to have aged the moment his eyes surveyed the carnage.
"Who on earth could have done this inhuman act in my city? Just what the hell occurred here?" Captain Stacy felt that the world was nearing its end as his gaze lingered on the corpses strewn like rubbish on the ground.
Detective Becker could sense the anger, pain, and sense of duty in the captain's voice. But she was different. While it was her first time witnessing such a large-scale massacre, she had already been accustomed to the dark side of homicidal murders. However, she had to admit that the person or group behind this gruesome crime was among the most brutal murderers.
Detective Becker approached a corpse that was being examined by the forensics team with Captain Stacy tailing behind.
"Some nitrile gloves please." Detective Becker made her presence known and the leader of the forensic team, Dr. Iris, with a PhD in forensics pathology, looked up at her.
"Detective Becker, it's a huge surprise seeing you in New York." A look of recognition showed on Dr. Iris's face.
"Iris... It's really a small world we live in. While I might like to catch up for old times' sake, I want to hear your findings."
"You know the doctor, detective?" Captain Stacy curiously asked as he wrapped his hands in gloves.
"We share a history," Detective Becker tersely responded.
"Oh." Captain Stacy didn't question further as he squatted next to Dr. Iris. "So what do we have this time, Doc?"
"Look at this clean, precise cut." Dr. Iris pointed at the cauterized armless shoulder. "Some pretty advanced military-grade laser technology was highly involved. This poor soul also had spinal cord herniation, and multiple fractures were exhibited all over his body. Whoever did this was truly bloodlusted."
"It's one person." Detective Becker showed a thoughtful look on her face as she gazed at the corpses and then at the bullet-ridden holes on the walls near the entrance.
"And they had a personal vendetta against this...gang."
"You mean to say that one single man—" Captain Stacy chimed in, but Detective Becker interjected.
"It could go both ways, captain. Crime isn't fixed by gender. We can't rule out anything unless we dig out more substantial clues."
"Sorry about that. This... everything..." Captain Stacy gestured toward the pile of corpses and sighed deeply. "...is just all messed up. What will I tell the people of New York if they become aware that such a massacre is possible?"
"Captain, every debt has its due and whoever's behind won't stay unknown for long. We will find them and they will answer to the judicial system," Detective Becker valiantly declared, her sharp amethyst eyes filled with determination.
"Detective, I think we've found someone easily recognizable," McDonald, who had disappeared who-god-knows-where, returned and reported urgently.
"Who?" Detective Becker quirked a brow as she carefully rose from the ground.
"It's Rhino."
There was a sudden shift of emotions on Detective Becker's face before she retained her calm. No one noticed this except for Dr. Iris who had been sneaking glances at her.
"Dr. Iris, please file me a copy of the report you will make at the lab. I want everything cataloged to the tee," Becker showed her a tight-lipped smile before she followed after Officer McDonald.
Dr. Iris momentarily glanced at Becker's departing figure before giving orders to her team.
"Rhino really got done in?" Some officers whispered among themselves as they went about carrying the dead bodies or...parts only.
It was a shocking piece of news since Rhino was a notorious criminal with an almost inexhaustible list of crimes to his name. He recently bombed Times Square, causing numerous deaths and injuries. When he got imprisoned, he escaped, leaving a bad taste in the mouths of police officers.
Becker crouched beside Rhino's one-legged corpse. She silently observed the injuries, ignored the consistent decapitations, and concentrated on the marble-sized hole on his forehead. She then turned her head and examined the occipital region.
"There's no exit wound," she muttered, a heavy frown on her face.
'Whatever it was, Rhino seemed to have been their prime target. His injuries had been calculated and induced with clinical precision as if to make a point.'
'This person is extremely dangerous.' A sense of unease filled Detective Becker for the first time. 'There's no hesitation, just an outright execution.'
'But why am I getting curious about them?'
Becker glanced at the minimal footprints on the Bloodied ground. They were almost indiscernible and different from the rest. It felt almost unnatural.
"Officer McDonald, pick some of the forensics guys to analyze these footprints."
"On it, detective."
A deep, tired sigh left her pink lips. "Rhino, now that you've died, am I supposed to feel relieved? Should I thank whoever killed you?"
Detective Becker, she really was a woman with a story of her own.
...
Meanwhile, at Joe's apartment,
Joe stood before his bathroom mirror. The tap was running, water gushing down on the bloodied armguard before disappearing into the sink. The armguard seemed to be slightly damaged as a result of being overused. He stared into the mirror, his eyes unfocused and glassy. The reflection gazing back at him seemed to belong to a stranger, disconnected from the world around him.
"We did what was necessary for our survival. Never forget that." His reflection seemed to echo his thoughts.
"And this isn't the end. You'll always be one with death. For your survival, anything can be sacrificed!"
Suddenly, Joe seemed to wake up from the stupor and angrily punched at the mirror. The glass shards ruthlessly dug into his skin, but he ignored the pain as strings of blood dropped on the sink.
"Nonsense. Am I becoming insane? I should start thinking about my next step. I can't revert my actions so I would have to live with all my sins. There's no time to mop around."
"I should be making a truly perfect permanent NZT drug, create a world-level corporation, and get more powers. It's a necessity."
"I shouldn't become soft."
Joe tightly clutched the sides of the sink as he glared at the broken reflections of himself on the shattered mirror. Like broken pieces of the mirror, something within him had started to break and shift. It was unknown what was changing, only himself would come to understand.
…
