"Having no one to eat with is kind of weird, right? Is Mr. Meyers still reaching out to you?" Luke asked as he opened his takeout bag and pulled out his food, setting it in front of him. Dakota closed his laptop, watching Luke unpack his meal from the carton and arrange it neatly. The guy even opened the chopstick wrapper to hand it to Dakota.
"Why would he reach out to me? We're not that close," said Dakota.
Luke raised his eyebrows at Dakota's response. "Oh, really? I thought you two were close. He often invites you to lunch and waits for your class to finish. If that's not close, then what is?"
Dakota opened his lunch box. For some reason, he felt like trying the wet noodles Rina had recommended a while back; they looked pretty good.
"We have lunch together too,
"Shutt," a whispering sound echoed in the darkness of the night, where only a faint light from the chandelier in the center of the room illuminated a small space filled with various heavy equipment such as spears and fishing hooks. "Umm." A muffled voice emerged, stifling sobs, with a mouth tightly gagged with dark fabric, possibly red. A pair of terrified eyes, those of a woman, still adorned with makeup that had run down her cheeks from tears. "Hu hu..." Her sobs were choked and trembled. A tall, large figure, dressed in black resembling a raincoat stopped, carrying a horrible tool which still drenched with blood dripping to the floor. You can still hear the dripping which getting louder and louder by the time."Ummm! Ummp!!" The heart-wrenching cries, though muffled, still sounded terrifying. The floor swayed as if on a boat, the light from the hanging ceiling lamp flickered along with it. No matter how loud the screams were, it was impossible for anyone to hear them in this de
"Clang" The sound of the metal door grinding against the frigid floor echoed through the confined space.In the dimly lit and chilly room, measuring three by three with barely any visible light, only a faint glow seeped in through the barred holes near the ceiling. This was one of the isolation cells in a highly secure prison, designed to keep the most dangerous individuals away from society.The warden pushed open the door and stepped inside. There sat the prisoner, handcuffed in a corner. Despite the maximum security, this person was kept secluded from the lights and commotion, still bound by handcuffs.A sneer could be heard from the figure sitting in the light as two officers pulled him, still shackled, out of the room. "Let’s go!"The prison was carefully designed to prevent any escape attempts, with multiple layers of security guards and extensive CCTV surveillance.That afternoon, Dakota was accompanied by a man in his fifties, his face covered in stubble from not shaving for a
Shortly thereafter, at the front main entrance of the high-level prison, Dakota and Thomas were accompanied by Warden, Carlos, who guided them through the gates."How did he end up in isolation? What did he do?" Thomas asked. The guard, Carlos, whose rank was a few levels below the chief, replied, "He challenged one of the lifers here. They could have easily taken him out, but this guy is insane; he didn't hesitate to poke the eyes of a prisoner twice his size with a plastic fork. If he hadn't been stopped, he might have killed that guy without blinking."Thomas smirked. "Crazy people like that still have someone willing to stand up to them?""Well, after this, no one might dare to go near him," Carlos grinned.Once outside the prison gates, Thomas and Dakota headed towards the parking area. Thomas paused for a moment in front of the car, staring at Dakota's face for a long time. He furrowed his brow, noticing how calm the young man was, even though he already knew Dakota's true natur
The camera shutter dominated the scene. Sam approached Emma, who had arrived earlier, as usual. A charred body was discovered by the construction foreman that morning as he started his shift, hanging from the end of a crane, still with a bit of smoke wafting from its blackened form. Several police officers had to use special safety equipment to retrieve the body. Even after managing to get close, they still struggled because the chains binding the body were still hot from the remnants of the fire. Sam shook his head. "Wow, they’re really innovative, aren’t they? Committing murder in such a spectacular way, incredible. Is this some kind of competition?" Emma took a deep breath; she had been wearing her latex gloves for a while, but the poor body was still hanging there. "You think this is some kind of competition, Boss?" "Well, if not, then what? Every week there’s some bizarre and increasingly brutal murder, as if the killer is trying to up the ante on their inhumanity."The are
Bayward Police headquarters, at the Coroner's Office. The autopsy room is located at the end of the hallway on the first floor of the five-story building. Where Doctor Emma and her team worked. Sam Danson, fine, handsome detective known as one of the most impressive, talented police who gained his position as the supervisor level 3, below the chief, at the very young age, just twenty - eight years old. But, most of his team are so young and fresh, one of them is Emma, a gorgeous young forensics doctor who's known as, cold, stern, sharp young, lunatic evil doctor, they said. Some people just over reacted, the woman looked so fine.Emma pulls back the covering cloth from the unfortunate body, charred beyond recognition, making it impossible to tell if it was a woman or a man. The body is so burnt that the bones are nearly visible, with the flesh blackened like overcooked steak.The entire body is scorched, and some bones can even be seen peeking through the flesh, which is almost reduce
"Um, yeah, I was going to say the same thing, Dax," Sam replied. Dakota get closer to the white board; every image in front of him might hold crucial clues. "The perpetrator wants to show how they could pull off such a big performance and how they managed to execute it perfectly. They’re even willing to do dangerous things to demonstrate just how high their confidence level is. The problem is, in this world, there’s no such thing as a perfect crime." "I know! It's like one of your famous lecture titles, right? I've watched the video over and over; it's so cool, Prof," Rina exclaimed. Sam turned to Rina, furrowing his brow, wondering what the young woman meant. "What video?" "That one, Boss! The title is 'There’s No Such Thing as a Perfect Crime.' So in Professor Dakota's lecture, he gives examples of some murder cases that are so tough they’re almost unsolvable. But even if the perpetrator isn’t found, the crime is still imperfect because of the evidence left behind, just wa
Sam was still sitting in his office. It was eight in the evening, and he hadn’t moved yet. Looks like he had to work late for their ongoing cases which keep coming.He lifting his head when he saw Dakota appear at the door. “Dax, aren’t you going home?” Dakota walked closer, observing several photos that Sam and the team had arranged on the whiteboard in front of the desk. He stood there for a while, just watching intently, his brow furrowed.He just keeps being calm and quiet, as he used to be, just observing with forehead furrowed deeply, sometimes Sam has a little doubt does this young man heard him or not.Sam got up from his desk, pulled out the drawer to take out something out. He was carrying a clear plastic bag with a letter that Dakota had received. “Do you recognize this handwriting? This letter is really addressed to you. I’m worried that people might still be following your every move; you need to be careful, Fax.” said Sam.Dakota glanced at the plastic bag with the paper
"Ugh!" His neck was gripped tightly; two large hands were choking him with all their might, making it impossible for him to breathe. Dakota struggled to free himself from those hands, but he couldn't; his strength was fading. The massive figure pinned him down and continued to choke him, even pressing on his chest. He was gasping for air, and no matter how hard he tried to draw in a breath, it was slipping away. Soon, he thought, he might die. But... A dream. Suddenly, Dakota opened his eyes and could only see darkness around him. His breathing was heavy, but at least he could catch his breath again. It was just a dream—his bed, his room, a nightmare that had haunted him repeatedly, feeling so real that it could have killed him. The trauma overwhelmed him. As a psychiatrist, he could read the deepest thoughts of every first-class criminal's brain he had worked with but he missed the most important thing. He even opened some free consultation sections at social institutions for som