Chapter 11 – Another Mark
Rain poured endlessly over the streets of Varren City — a coastal metropolis that never truly slept. The neon signs bled their colors onto the wet pavement, and the police drones hummed faintly in the air, scanning every movement like restless ghosts.
Detective Elara Quinn adjusted her coat collar and stepped under the security tape. Another crime scene. Another corpse. But this one was different.
The man on the floor wasn't just any criminal — he was Victor Kline, the head of an illegal arms syndicate who had evaded capture for years. His eyes were open, lifeless, staring toward the darkened dockyard ceiling. A faint black mark, shaped like a burning circle, was etched into his chest.
Elara crouched, her flashlight sweeping over the wound. "Same pattern as the others," she muttered. "But the file said the last one happened in another city, hundreds of miles away."
Her partner, Agent Korran, sighed. "Yeah. And that one was supposed to be handled by the special task force. They claimed it was an isolated incident."
"An isolated incident doesn't leave a signature like this." Elara's voice was sharp, but steady. "Whoever's doing this — they're moving fast. And they're precise."
She straightened, turning toward the docks. Beyond the mist, the ocean stretched endlessly — dark, silent, and somehow aware. For a moment, she thought she saw something move beneath the waves… but when she blinked, it was gone.
---
Back at headquarters, a holographic screen displayed a series of connected murder reports. Each victim powerful. Each with blood on their hands. Each marked the same way.
Elara leaned forward. "Seven cases in two weeks. All different cities. All untouchable people. And no evidence — not a single trace of human presence."
Korran rubbed his temples. "You're saying we're dealing with more than one killer?"
"I'm saying," Elara replied slowly, "that maybe there's something bigger happening here. Something we don't understand yet."
She opened a secure channel on her tablet. A coded alert flickered — Level 5 anomaly detected. Her stomach tightened. The last time that alert had appeared, it had been connected to a classified file — one labeled Project Justicar.
---
That night, the waves crashed harder against the docks.
Miles away, in a different city, Andrew Blake sat alone in a dimly lit room, reviewing a list of new contracts on his tablet. His eyes narrowed when one of the targets appeared — Victor Kline.
He froze.
That job was supposed to be his. But someone had already completed it.
"Impossible," he whispered. "That contract was private."
A notification blinked on his screen — Target: Eliminated. Source: Unknown.
Andrew leaned back, his mind racing. "Someone's working the same list," he muttered. "But no assassin moves like this." He remembered the stories — criminals vanishing, whispers of a shadow that came for the corrupt, leaving only a dark mark behind.
For the first time in years, Andrew felt something unfamiliar.
Doubt.
He shut down the tablet, his reflection catching in the dark window.
Outside, lightning flashed — illuminating the restless ocean beyond. For a second, the light revealed something massive beneath the waves, shifting and pulsing like a heartbeat.
Andrew turned away, unaware that a figure was watching him from a rooftop across the street — cloaked, motionless, eyes glowing faintly through the rain.
---
In Varren City, Elara received an encrypted call from a government contact.
A voice spoke — low, mechanical, distorted.
"Detective Quinn. Leave the Kline case. It's not within your jurisdiction."
She frowned. "You think I'll ignore a serial pattern because some voice says so? Who are you?"
Silence. Then, softly:
"Someone trying to prevent another storm."
The line went dead.
Elara exhaled slowly, staring at the frozen screen. She replayed the scene in her mind — the black mark, the smell of salt in the air, the way the corpse's eyes seemed to look beyond this world.
She turned to Korran. "Pull everything we have on maritime research, secret projects, and deep-sea retrieval missions over the last decade."
He blinked. "Why? What are you looking for?"
Elara's gaze was firm, her tone quiet but certain.
"Patterns repeat themselves. And this one started in the ocean."
---
Meanwhile, under the surface of the Atlantic, hundreds of miles away — shadows stirred.
Figures that looked human but weren't.
Eyes opening in the deep.
Whispers echoing through the currents.
They moved with purpose.
Each drawn to a different place.
Each carrying the same mark — the law of Noctis.
And as the currents shifted, one whisper rose above the rest, cold and certain:
"The harvest begins again."