PLEASE HURRY > she whined, curled up tight under her desk. < I SAW.. BLOOD, blood under the door! I heard noises, I think the killers still here! > It’s hard to forget the cry of someone who witnessed a murder for the first time. Although inconsolable, the women was able to give you some details on your location. Smith Studios. It’s not surprising someone wanted Mr.Smith dead, but they were bold to do it so early. Only thing to do is enter the building. The early night is still.
[DM]: Please remain calm, ma'am. We’re on the way.
You really don’t do distress calls like this. At least, not with the person on the line. What are you? The receptionist? The Powerpuff Girls with a big ol’ red phone anyone can have access to? You’d rather stick to your ragged and dirty job of being the “clean up crew” in the crimes unit (where you’re just as cold as the dead bodies you find at 3 am) than listen to the screams of those about to lose colour just as fast as you lose faith in the legal justice system. It was 2am, and the call was just on time. Hopefully, you would be too.
===> ABSCOND.
You haul your ass to the Crime Scene Studios.
allendsinflowers
OOC;; That’s such a metal line Mayhem
How brave of you to climb up the stairs, and at the very top the blood seems to come to a halt. The only light on the top floor is blaring from a room directly in front of you, cashing a brilliant yellow glow out of it towards you.
If you can listen very carefully, you can hear music coming from inside. This murderer obviously has some class.
The music starts with a swell, with the kind of quality that makes you hunger for the simpler days.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0feNVUwQA8U
Walk into the light Detective.
(( Thank you…It’s too good to not reuse
Your footsteps stain the hallways as you creep towards the bright room. At least when the next detective comes, they can deduce the fact that you openly walked towards your inevitable death. But you were too stubborn to let someone else take care of business for you. Your job stood right before you, and you already stood ready to be made fun of. The bonus soundtrack to your funeral was overkill, hah. No, you weren’t ready to tango with this killer and be sent off with a song that you only got rough with your partner over. You’re no cheat. Just a winner.
You walk in steadily, like you had all the time in the world.
Sitting in the chair, with his back to you, is Mr. Smith.
The music slows.
The chair swivels around to face you.
And you stare into the eyes of a corpse.
Of course, that’s not the concerning part. You’ve seen corpses before. What’s concerning is the fact that someone is in the room with you. You can tell, because the music turned down as you entered, someone is here toying with you. Only one light is on, bathing the walls of the room in darkness and creating a sharp neon cat walk. Police lights blare outside the window.
It’s just you and the unseen killer.
