At the FBI HEADQUARTERS in Southwest district of Washington D.C, 9;30 P.M...
As I hunched over my laptop, the glow of the screen casting an eerie light on my face, I began to type out my notes on the case that had finally come to a close. "My name is Raven Angela Wing," I typed, my fingers flying across the keyboard. "My colleagues call me 'Midnight Raven.' At 28, I'm a rising star in the FBI, but I know the streets of Washington D.C. better than most. The Southwest district is usually a haven of safety, a tranquil oasis in the nation's capital. But there's one place where the rules don't apply – Metropolis, or as the locals call it, the Red District."
I paused, taking a deep breath as I gazed out the window at the city's dark underbelly. The words flowed onto the page, a mix of reflection and analysis.
"Metropolis is a city within a city, a labyrinth of crime and corruption where justice is often a luxury few can afford. It's the place where the desperate and the depraved come to play, where the darkness that lurks in every human heart is given free rein. I've seen things in Metropolis that would haunt my colleagues' dreams for years to come. But I'm drawn to it, like a moth to flame. Maybe it's the thrill of the chase, or maybe it's the desire to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. Whatever it is, I'm in this for the long haul."
I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking softly as I steepled my fingers together.
The hinges of my office door groaned in protest, the sound slicing through the evening quiet. It was Naomi Chen, her silhouette framed in the doorway, a frantic energy radiating from her small frame. Naomi, the team's expert profiler and a friend I trusted implicitly.
"Raven, thank God you're still here! I've been hunting you down," she said, her voice tight with urgency, breath catching in her throat. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.
"What is it, Naomi? Another case?" I asked, anticipation tightening my gut. The silence of my office had been a welcome reprieve, but the call of duty was never far off.
"Yes! Another disappearance in Metropolis, and this one… this one is twisted, Raven. I'll explain everything in the car; we need to move." The urgency in her voice was a sharp edge, promising something dark and unsettling.
"Alright," I replied, pushing back from my desk. "Gather the others. I'll get the car and meet you all in the parking lot. Let's go see what we're walking into."
"Right away!" Naomi replied, already turning to disappear back down the hall.
With a shared nod, we split, each of us instinctively moving to fulfill our assigned tasks.
What the hell is going on in Metropolis? The thought hammered in my mind as I grabbed my coat. Four disappearances in as many weeks. People just vanishing, swallowed by the city. Never encountered anything like it. Too clean, too sudden. A shiver snaked down my spine. And I'd bet my badge the same sick bastard is behind all of it.
A few minutes ticked by, the silence in the car amplifying the unease churning within me. Finally, the team materialized, their figures cutting through the twilight.
"Sorry we're late, Midnight Raven!" Hector announced with a playful salute, his usual enthusiasm cutting through the tension. Hector Rodriguez, former member of FBI's Intelligence Unit, was a master of espionage and interrogation, a chameleon who could blend into any crowd and extract the truth from the most tight-lipped suspect.
"So, what's the situation?" Saku asked, his voice calm and measured, his gaze direct. Sakunosuke Hiragaya, we call him "Saku", born in Japan but raised in the U.S., was a former Navy Strategic Unit member. His cool demeanor and strategic mind were invaluable in any situation. He had an aura of quiet intensity that always commanded respect.
"Well, whatever! What are we waiting for?! Let's solve this case and kick some ass!" Shion exclaimed, cracking her neck with a grin that bordered on manic. Shion Zuberg, former member of FBI'S Cybersecurity Unit, was a force of nature. She craved action, a thrill-seeker who claimed sitting behind a computer was a slow death. Violence was her drug, and she wasn't afraid to admit it.
"Get in," I commanded, urgency lacing my voice. "Naomi, you can fill us in on the way."
"Yes, right away!" they responded in unison, piling into the car. I shifted into gear and slammed my foot on the accelerator, tires squealing as we tore out of the parking lot.
"So, Naomi," Saku began, his voice cutting through the rising tension in the car, "what exactly are we dealing with here?" He let out a soft sigh, a hint of weariness in his tone.
Naomi cleared her throat, her eyes focused on the road ahead. "I received a tip about a car that crashed into a tree near Salmon Road in Metropolis. The passengers are gone, vanished. But there's evidence they were definitely there, and no signs of forced entry. The informant couldn't tell me how many people were in the car. I can't shake the feeling this is another one of those disappearances we've been chasing for the past month."
"Sounds like it," Hector agreed, scratching his head, a mix of weariness and anxiety creeping into his voice. "Another vanishing act. Feels like these victims are being plucked out of thin air."
"Exactly," I replied, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Same disappearances, same lack of leads. This kidnapper is a ghost." A knot of frustration tightened in my chest. It was like chasing a shadow.
"Well, what matters is that we catch this bastard and I get to beat the crap outta them! Hell yeah!" Shion exclaimed, a manic grin spreading across her face. Her thirst for violence was unsettling, but it was also a valuable asset.
"We're almost there," Saku announced, his eyes scanning the road ahead. "I can see the crashed car from here." His voice was devoid of emotion, all business.
"As expected from the eye of a former Navy SEAL," Hector said dryly, clapping his hands in a sarcastic slow clap.
I parked the car a safe distance from the wreckage, the eerie silence of the scene broken only by the chirping of crickets. We exited the vehicle, our movements deliberate as we approached the crashed car.
"Naomi, Saku," I commanded, my voice sharp and decisive, "you two inspect the exterior of the vehicle and the surrounding area. Look for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might explain the crash. I'll focus on the driver's and passenger's seats. Shion, you check the trunk. Hector, you take the backseats. Leave no stone unturned."
"Yes!" they responded in unison, their voices echoing in the still night air. With a shared nod, we dispersed, each of us falling into our designated roles, our training kicking in. The hunt had begun.
Outside the car, the air was thick..
"You focus on the surroundings, Naomi," Saku instructed, his voice calm but firm. "I'll examine the car itself, try to determine what caused the crash, look for anything that might help us identify the victim(s) or the perpetrator."
"Yes, thank you," Naomi replied, her voice a low murmur, determination hardening her features. She offered Saku a curt salute, a gesture of respect and understanding.
"Let's disperse and start as soon as possible," Saku stated, his words clipped and authoritative.
Naomi nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping over the landscape, taking in every detail. With a final exchange of glances, they moved apart, their figures swallowed by the encroaching darkness, each intent on their assigned task. The search for answers had begun in earnest.
On Naomi's side...
Damn it, nothing here. Her internal frustration grew with each passing second.
Then, she saw it – a dark smear beneath her feet. Kneeling, she examined it more closely.
"Is this...blood?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Etched into the ground, amidst the crimson stain, were words. "A letter from the perpetrator… what does it say?"
"'L'espoir'," she read aloud, a mix of dread and confusion washing over her. "What does it mean? Whatever it is, I doubt it's good." Swallowing hard, Naomi continued her search, a gnawing anxiety settling in her stomach.
On Saku's side...
"A flat tire caused the crash? How? The road's straight as an arrow... How could a tire blow like this?" Saku muttered, his brow furrowed as he circled the damaged tire. "Wait..." He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "There's a hole here..." He ran a gloved hand over the rubber.
"Not caused by the road," he concluded, his voice barely audible. "Someone did this. This was a bullet, fired from something like a shotgun…" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Fascinating. Planned, not random. This wasn't just an accident, it was stage setting for a vanishing."
On Hector's side...
"Damn! Nothing but a bunch of chip bags?!" Hector exclaimed, scratching his neck in exasperation. "Oh, wait! A debit card here." His tone perked up. "Let's see... belongs to an 'Arnold Wall.' What kind of name is that?" He chuckled derisively.
On Shion's side...
"Nothing in here, literally! Argh, this is why I hate hide-and-seek!" Shion stomped her foot, her frustration palpable. Boredom and disappointment were etched on her face.
On Raven's side...
The glove compartment's the only place I haven't checked. I thought, internally. So far, nothing but normal stuff. Still, gotta bag it all, get it dusted for prints.
I opened the compartment slowly, my senses on high alert. Inside, a pistol, a wallet and a gun license.
"Licensed to... Gyro Kennedy. That name sounds familiar, but from where?" I muttered, a flicker of curiosity igniting within me. "Gyro..."
In a secluded, abandoned place in Metropolis...
"Urgh… what happened? Where am I?" Gyro gasped, jolted awake by a sharp slap to the face.
He found himself in a grimy room, lit by a single bare bulb. He was greeted by the sight of two masked figures looming over him, and he shouted in shock and fear.
"Who are you two?!" The man beside him, Arnold, exclaimed, his voice trembling with fear.
"Oh, goodness gracious! You shocked me there!" The dollface-masked individual said with a mocking tone, a high-pitched giggle following.
"Now that you're awake, Angel of Light, I want you to start the stream," the Ghostface-masked individual said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Stream?" Arnold repeated, his voice laced with confusion.
"What do you mean, stream?" Gyro asked, his voice a mix of expectation and nervousness.
"Oh, how silly of me to forget to tell you about it..." The Ghostface-masked individual said sarcastically. "We are about to play a game," he continued, his voice hardening. "And you have no choice but to play."
And that will be the start of the nightmare that are about to engulf the Metropolis and the entire U.S.A.