Alex's Departure
The air inside Mark Alberton's office was still, yet tense.
Across the wooden desk, Mark Alberton, the head of the police department, eyed Alexander Bluestone carefully.
Alex, as usual, was composed. Hands in his pockets, his sharp gaze unreadable.
"I'm taking a week off," he stated.
Mark raised a brow. "You? A vacation?"
Alex smirked faintly. "Surprised?"
"More like suspicious," Mark replied, leaning back. "Last time you took a break, half the underground world disappeared."
Alex chuckled. "Relax. No killing this time."
Mark sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fine. But don't expect peace. Grim Reaper's still out there."
Alex turned to leave. "That's what makes it fun."
And with that, he was gone.
The Case Without Him
Back at Bluestone's detective office, the atmosphere was different.
For the first time, Alex wasn't there.
Madison, Darmian, and Rose sat in silence, processing the news.
"He really left?" Madison muttered, crossing her arms.
"Guess so," Darmian replied.
Rose, however, was fidgeting. Without Alex, they were exposed. Vulnerable.
Then, a newspaper slapped onto the table.
Darmian had tossed it there. The headline was chilling.
"David Goathlin – The Man Who Almost Blew Up A Plane, Now Tied To Grim Reaper"
Madison's expression darkened. "This guy again?"
Darmian nodded. "Reports say he's planning something bigger."
Rose swallowed. "What?"
Darmian turned the page, reading the subheadline.
"Intelligence suggests Goathlin will target a major transit route."
Then, the realization hit them.
Liverpool to Birmingham.
The train.
Madison stood up. "We need to move."
Darmian grabbed his coat.
Rose hesitated, glancing at Alex's empty chair.
If he were here… he'd already know how to win.
But he wasn't.
And this time, they had to figure it out on their own.
The Train Ride to Death
The three boarded the train, keeping their eyes sharp.
They knew David Goathlin was here. Somewhere.
The train moved steadily, passengers unaware of the danger among them.
Madison whispered, "If he's planning to blow this up, where would he be?"
Darmian's gaze turned cold. "The driver's cabin."
They pushed forward, past passengers, through the narrow corridors.
Rose's heart pounded. This wasn't Alex's game anymore. It was theirs.
When they reached the driver's cabin, they froze.
David Goathlin was there.
A gun in one hand.
A detonator in the other.
Two hostages – the head driver and his assistant – tied to their seats.
Goathlin smirked.
"Well, well… looks like Bluestone's lapdogs came instead."
And with that, the real game began