SOME HOURS AGO
"We'll use the victims to lure him out," Scott said flatly, eyes locked on the screen.
"Huh? The victims? How the hell do we do that?" Ray asked, his brow furrowed.
"We release a video," Scott replied. "Show the world where they are. Make it look real."
"That's crazy, sir!" Stephanie shot up from her seat. "If we do that, he could—"
"It would be... if we used the real victims," Scott cut in, his voice low and deliberate.
Frank glanced over. "Okay, now you've got my attention. Care to elaborate, Cap?"
Scott turned toward him. "This is your territory, Frank. I want a fabricated video. CGI. Hyper-realistic. I'll give you every detail you need."
Frank cracked his knuckles and leaned into the keyboard. "Say less. Easy peasy."
PRESENT TIME – INTERROGATION ROOM
A dim yellow bulb hung low from the ceiling, casting a lazy flicker over the metal table. The room was cold. Silent—except for the creak of Damien Quinn's chair as he leaned back, rocking like a smug teenager with a secret.
Scott stepped in without a word, dragged out the chair across from him, and sat.
He didn't speak at first.
He just stared.
Damien tilted his head, a grin crawling across his lips. "Mr. Quinn, right?" Scott finally said.
"You got that right," Damien said smoothly, arms crossed behind his head.
"Do you understand what brought you here?"
Damien shrugged. "Not sure. I was in the middle of something real important when y'all grabbed me. Dunno what the hell I'm doing here. I didn't do shit, man."
Scott didn't blink.
Then he spoke—calm, precise.
"Allow me to clear it up for you."
He leaned forward and began reading:
> "—Kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment of Helena Andrews and her two children—held in inhumane conditions in a sealed underground space.
—Abduction and prolonged torture of Dr. Felix Gibbs, a practicing psychologist, used as a pawn in your twisted psychological experiment.
—Mental manipulation and emotional warfare, including the creation of staged 'family reunions' designed to torment and psychologically scar the victims.
—Tampering with multiple forensic scenes to deliberately mislead investigators and delay justice.
—Digital intrusion, illegal surveillance, and technological subversion—including facial recognition evasion and burner network hopping.
—Identity theft and impersonation of Thomas Andrews—your friend, who you murdered in cold blood just to wear his life like a goddamn costume.
—Murder of Dr. Felix Gibbs—stabbed through the neck after you decided his usefulness expired.
—Triggering a false fire alarm at B&G University Teaching Hospital—causing public panic, emergency deployment, and risking patient lives.
—Attempted infiltration of a secure medical ward using fake credentials and a fabricated family story.
—Attempted escape from a lawful arrest—ending in resistance, injury, and use of force.
—Reckless endangerment of civilians—children included—through calculated, premeditated chaos across multiple locations."
—And lastly... the premeditated murder of Thomas Andrews, your childhood friend, whose life you erased just to step into his skin."
Damien flinched, his smile cracking.
"Goddamn it, that's enough!" he snapped, slamming his fist on the table.
Scott didn't flinch. "Why'd you do it?"
Damien's eyes narrowed.
"You mean all that you just read out?"
Scott nodded. "Start there."
Damien leaned forward, smirk returning like a shadow. "I did it... because it had to be done. Every move. Every setup. Every scream—I needed them. To complete it. It was never about pain... it was about purpose."
Scott leaned back slowly. "You think that's purpose? That wasn't purpose. That was you trying to play God with people's lives. You turned suffering into a game—and you lost."
Damien smirked again, but his eyes twitched—just once.
"Lost? Nah, detective... this ain't over. You people only caught a piece of the story. I was this close," he said, pressing his fingers together. "You just couldn't let me finish it."
Scott stared at him, unmoved. "You mean finish what? Torturing more victims? Killing off more people who didn't fit your script?"
"No," Damien replied, slowly leaning forward on the table, voice low and heavy, "Finishing what life never gave me. Order. Justice. Closure."
"You're not a hero, Damien," Scott said firmly. "You're not some broken man trying to heal himself. You're just another monster trying to justify the blood on his hands."
Damien chuckled under his breath. "Aren't we all?"
Scott slammed the case file shut. "We're done here."
As he stood, Damien called after him. "They'll come for me, y'know. The ones who understand. The ones who've seen what I've seen."
Scott paused at the door. "Then they'll rot in the same cage."
With that, he stepped out.
The door creaked shut behind him, leaving Damien alone—still rocking in that chair, still smirking, but with a faint twitch in his eye.