It's not a chase if the prey is already behind you.
---
6:03 A.M.
Naomi's Apartment
Naomi tightens the holster around her ribs. Her badge is left behind on the table.
This isn't protocol.
This is personal.
She double-checks her gear — hidden mic, nonlethal taser, encrypted recorder, body cam patched through a private server.
Her goal: Confront Silas Creed. Alone. Unofficially.
No paperwork. No warning.
If she's wrong, she loses everything.
But if she's right…
Then she's face-to-face with the most terrifying serial killer in modern history.
---
7:28 A.M.
St. Gabriel's High – Front Gates
The morning is ordinary. Too ordinary.
Silas enters the gates with his usual calm smile. He nods at students, exchanges a few greetings, brushes off another love note someone slips into his bag.
He can feel it.
Something's different. Tension, sharp as a blade, pressed just beneath his skin.
He walks to class—but halfway through the courtyard—
"Silas Creed."
The voice is soft, even. Familiar.
He turns.
Detective Naomi Kisaragi stands behind him. No uniform. No backup.
"Good morning," he says with polite surprise. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."
"Walk with me?"
He smiles gently. "Of course."
---
7:32 A.M.
Rooftop – Empty
Naomi closes the door behind them.
No students.
No teachers.
Only open sky and wind.
Silas leans on the railing like it's a casual conversation. "Is this about the new video?"
Naomi doesn't answer. She stares at him, eyes narrowed. Calculating.
Then:
"You were at Platform 3 last night."
Silas chuckles. "Why would I be?"
"You have no alibi. And the footage was deliberately sloppy. Almost like the killer wanted someone to witness it. Almost like… a message."
His golden eyes glint.
"You're very imaginative."
She pulls out her phone and plays a recording. Audio. Background noise. Clicks. A voice:
> "This isn't about staying hidden anymore. This is about showing the world what happens when the devil stops pretending to be human."
She looks up.
"You recorded that in your studio. Didn't you?"
Silas stares at her for a long second.
Then—
He laughs.
Not the soft, polite chuckle he gives everyone else. A real laugh. Deep. Cold. Real.
"You're good," he says, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Better than I expected."
"You're The Hollow."
"You can't prove it."
"I don't have to," she says, stepping closer. "Because I'm not here to arrest you. I'm here to warn you."
Silas raises a brow. "Warn me?"
Naomi's voice sharpens.
"There's chatter online. Someone's copying you. Not just mimicking — stealing your kills. Claiming your symbol. Messing with your brand."
Silas's smile fades.
"What?"
"I thought it was you — until last night. That wasn't your style. The chaos. The sloppiness. The blood was everywhere."
She leans in close.
"They're trying to be you. And they're about to mess everything up."
---
8:02 A.M.
Silas's Studio – Remote Access
Silas skips his first class.
He's underground, alone, screen lighting his pale face.
He pulls up the newest video — one uploaded just hours after his own. Labeled "Hollow Reborn."
The footage is brutal. Messy. Torture for the sake of pain, not message. No pattern. No precision.
The mask is wrong. The voice distorted poorly. The victim? A street vendor. No crimes. No reason.
Silas stares at the screen, silent.
Then, softly:
"They're ruining my work."
He begins tracing the IP.
The copycat didn't cover their trail well.
Mistake.
---
9:13 A.M.
Naomi's Car – Outside School
Naomi waits, watching the gate.
Her phone vibrates. She answers instantly.
A voice on the other end. Her tech analyst.
> "That new video? Definitely not the same encryption as Hollow's. Different device. Possibly mobile. Amateur-level."
She nods. "Can we locate it?"
> "Already working on it. But heads up—there's a message embedded in Hollow's previous upload. It's new. Wasn't there yesterday."
She frowns. "Play it."
> "To the one wearing my mask—
You can borrow my name. But not my skill.
I'm coming for you."
— The Real Hollow
Naomi hangs up.
She whispers, "You're going to kill your copycat, aren't you?"
---
10:46 P.M.
Abandoned Parking Complex – East District
The copycat waits in the shadows, shaky breath in a stolen mask.
He checks his phone. The comment section is full.
> "This one felt different."
"Still Hollow?"
"Too much blood, not enough message."
"Something's off."
He shivers.
Then hears it.
Footsteps.
No voice. No warning.
Just silence and the soft scrape of steel on concrete.
Then — pain.
He doesn't even scream before the first tendon is severed. His phone drops. Recording by accident.
The real Hollow stands above him. No expression. No mercy.
"You thought you could be me?"
He kneels, whispering into the camera:
"This is what happens to imitations."
The screen goes black.
---
Final Scene
Naomi watches the copycat's death video hours later. Her face is unreadable.
He's not hiding anymore.
He's sending messages.
To the world.
To her.
To himself.
---
Final Line:
> "You just made your first mistake, Silas. You gave yourself a signature."
---