Chapter 2: Welcome to Hell
The New Harbor Metropolitan Criminal Investigation Bureau didn't look like justice. It looked like penance carved in concrete.
A brutalist monument to institutional failure, the building clawed skyward from downtown's wounded heart—twelve stories of weathered gray that had aged like infected flesh. Morning light struck the dirt-crusted windows but couldn't penetrate the darkness within. The air outside reeked of exhaust fumes, stale coffee, and industrial disinfectant—the kind used to scrub away evidence of things that refused to stay buried.
Alex Stone stood motionless on cracked asphalt, neck craned upward at the architectural monstrosity that would become his hunting ground.
This wasn't a place where people found answers.
This was where hope came to be systematically dismantled.
"Jesus Christ," Kevin Ross whispered beside him, enthusiasm finally dampened by the building's oppressive presence. "It looks like a prison."
Alex's enhanced awareness was already working. Exit routes mapped. Security vulnerabilities catalogued. Blind spots identified. The building's defensive structure was impressive—but not impenetrable.
"It is a prison," Alex said quietly.
Kevin shot him a look. "What do you mean?"
But Alex was already walking toward the entrance, leaving his roommate to follow.
『 ◆ ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS ◆ 』
『 Location: High-Stress Law Enforcement Facility 』
『 Personnel Psychological Degradation: 73% Show Chronic Moral Fatigue 』
『 Corruption Potential: EXTREME 』
『 Recommended Strategy: BLEND, INFILTRATE, EXPLOIT 』
He dismissed the interface before it could establish deeper hold on his consciousness. The system's influence was growing stronger—more insistent. Each analysis felt less like suggestion and more like command.
Inside, the bullpen sprawled across the third floor like an open wound. Fluorescent lights hummed with electrical cancer, casting everything in sickly yellow pallor. Phones shrilled constantly. Conversations overlapped in cacophonous symphony of human misery. The air tasted of burnt coffee, printer toner, and something else—something metallic that might have been old blood or fresh fear.
A wall of case boards dominated the far end, each one a shrine to unfinished business. Crime scene photographs were pinned like butterflies to cork, surrounded by maps studded with red markers, victim portraits staring accusingly at nothing, and suspect profiles labeled with that most damning designation: UNKNOWN.
Each board represented someone's last moment on earth. Alex could read them like sheet music—the rhythm of violence, the melody of method, the harmony of human suffering orchestrated by minds he understood better than his own.
"Stone! Ross! Over here!"
Detective Marcus Williams emerged from the chaos like a lighthouse in fog—six-foot-two of weathered authority, salt-and-pepper hair framing tired but alert eyes. His posture suggested a man who'd stared into enough darkness to develop night vision.
Kevin practically bounced toward him. Alex followed with predatory grace, each step calculated for maximum efficiency.
Williams extended his hand to Kevin first—warm grip, genuine smile, the easy camaraderie of shared purpose. When he turned to Alex, something shifted. The handshake lasted a heartbeat too long. Williams' eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, professional instincts triggering warning bells he couldn't yet interpret.
Something about this kid felt wrong. Not obviously. Not dramatically. Just... off. Like a photograph where everything appeared correct until you realized the shadows fell in impossible directions.
"Welcome to the circus, gentlemen." Williams gestured toward the controlled chaos behind him. "Academy's over. This is where we separate the hunters from the prey."
『 ◆ THREAT ASSESSMENT ◆ 』
『 Subject: Marcus Williams — Senior Detective 』
『 Intuitive Capability: EXCEPTIONALLY HIGH 』
『 Suspicion Level: ELEVATED AND CLIMBING 』
『 Risk Rating: SIGNIFICANT THREAT 』
『 Recommended Action: MONITOR AND NEUTRALIZE IF NECESSARY 』
Alex crushed the analysis before it could complete its sinister logic. Williams was studying him with the intensity of someone who'd learned to trust his gut over evidence.
"You'll be working with me, Ross," Williams continued, clapping Kevin's shoulder. "Try to keep up and try not to vomit on any crime scenes. It's unprofessional."
Before Alex could process his own assignment, another voice cut through the noise like a scalpel through skin.
"Stone."
Chief Inspector David Miller stood silhouetted in his office doorway—a man-shaped collection of hard angles and harder experience. Coffee stains decorated his white shirt like abstract art. His tie hung crooked, suggesting either carelessness or the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that made minor details irrelevant. But his eyes remained sharp enough to perform surgery on a man's soul.
Alex had never seen Miller before in his life.
So why did the chief look at him like he was reading familiar text?
"My office. Now."
Miller disappeared into the shadows beyond his doorframe without waiting for compliance. Kevin shot Alex a questioning look, but Alex was already moving, drawn by invisible strings toward whatever waited in that cluttered den.
The office was a museum of human darkness. Case files formed geological layers across every surface, each stack representing months or years of investigation that had yielded nothing but frustration. Whiteboards covered three walls, dense with timelines, suspect profiles, and red string connecting dots that refused to form coherent pictures. Evidence bags lined metal shelves like specimen jars in some ghoulish laboratory—knives, ropes, bloodstained clothing, personal effects of the dead.
Miller positioned himself by the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the street twelve stories below. "You're the academy's golden boy. Perfect score on every exam."
Silence stretched between them like piano wire.
"You know what I've learned about perfection, Stone?" Miller turned, fixing Alex with laser focus. "It's unnatural. Nobody achieves perfection without cutting corners, or possessing advantages they shouldn't have."
Alex remained statue-still, waiting.
Miller moved to his desk, extracted a manila folder yellowed with age, and opened it with ceremonial precision. Inside: three black-and-white photographs that made Alex's enhanced nervous system spike with recognition.
"Jennifer Walsh. Twenty years old. University student. Found dismembered and dumped across three locations. Case went cold in 2005. Killer was never identified."
The first photograph showed Jennifer's face—young, beautiful, frozen in an expression of terminal terror. The second captured her severed hand wedged between rusted drainpipe and concrete. The third revealed a trail of blood across dormitory tiles, forming an abstract pattern that spoke of methodical violence.
Alex's world tilted sideways.
『 ◆ MEMORY ARCHIVE ACCESSING ◆ 』
『Simulation #51,789: University Dismemberment Protocol 』
『 Subject: Jennifer Walsh — Age 20 』
『 Methodology: Surgical Dismemberment, Multi-Location Disposal 』
『 Execution Rating: PERFECT 』
『 Evidence Trace: ZERO 』
『 Case Status: PERMANENTLY UNSOLVABLE 』
The memories flooded back with crystalline clarity. Not memories of reading about the case—memories of living it. The weight of surgical tools in his hands. The resistance of cartilage and bone. The metallic scent of fresh blood. Jennifer's voice pleading, then screaming, then falling silent.
Because in Simulation #51,789, Alex Stone had been the killer.
But simulations weren't real.
Were they?
Miller's eyes hadn't wavered from Alex's face, cataloguing every micro-expression, every tell.
"There's something about you, Stone," the chief said slowly. "Something that makes my teeth itch. I just can't figure out what it is yet."
Alex forced himself to meet Miller's gaze. "What do you need from me, sir?"
"I want you to review this case. See if your... instincts... pick up anything previous investigators missed." Miller's smile was sharp enough to draw blood. "Statute of limitations expires in eight weeks. After that, even if we identify the killer, he walks away clean."
Alex stared down at Jennifer's photographed eyes.
In that moment, he couldn't tell if he was looking at a victim or reviewing his own handiwork.
『 ◆ SYSTEM ALERT ◆ 』
『 MISSION PARAMETERS UPDATED 』
『 PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: SOLVE JENNIFER WALSH HOMICIDE 』
『 TIME CONSTRAINT: 56 DAYS REMAINING 』
『 FAILURE CONSEQUENCE: PERMANENT SYSTEM TERMINATION 』
『 WARNING: HUNTER/PREY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED 』
His heart hammered against his ribs.
The system wasn't what terrified him.
It was the growing, ice-cold certainty that he knew exactly who had killed Jennifer Walsh.
Because somehow, impossibly, that killer might have been him.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━CRIMESYNC™ REPORT // LOG 02.END› Subject: ALEX STONE› Status: MISSION PARAMETERS ACTIVATED› System Interference: MODERATE› Memory Integration: 67%› Psychological Drift: ELEVATING› Priority Objective: RE-EXAMINE COLD CASE #J-WALSH
Observation:"When the hunter becomes the hunted...the only question is: who's already dead inside?"
⛔ Target Recognition: IMMINENT━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
⟿ END CHAPTER 2
⟿ MEMORY PROTOCOLS COMPROMISED...