Just like the incident with the White Rider MC, another gruesome event had shaken New York—this time in the heart of Manhattan, in a secret house tucked away in an affluent neighborhood. The victim, however, was no ordinary individual. He was Arthur Maxwell, the star District Attorney of New York, a man whose name had been synonymous with justice and integrity. Or so the public had believed.
Detective Misty Knight was once again at the forefront of the investigation, leading the first team to arrive at the scene. It was early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, but the atmosphere was anything but calm. The call had come in just a few hours earlier, an anonymous tip to the newly established information hotline. It was the first call the hotline had ever received, and it had sent shockwaves through the department.
Misty had been intrigued from the moment she heard about the call. Something about it felt… significant. She had joined the patrol to check out the scene herself, and what they found was beyond disturbing. The house was unassuming from the outside, but inside, it was a house of horrors. The basement, in particular, was a nightmare come to life.
"Ma'am, this is seriously messed up," one of the officers said, his face pale as he emerged from the basement. "There are cages down there, and all sorts of… tools. It's like something out of a horror movie."
Another officer, an African-American man with a grim expression, nodded in agreement. "I always thought this guy was sketchy," he said, his voice low. "A lot of the cases he won? They were mostly against people of color. You ever notice that?"
The first officer frowned, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, now that you mention it… that does seem off."
"That's enough, guys," Misty interjected, her voice firm but calm. She had noticed the pattern too, of course. As an intelligent and observant detective, it was hard to miss. But without concrete evidence, her suspicions had remained just that—suspicions. Arthur Maxwell had always maintained a pristine image, his career a shining example of justice and fairness. Or so it had seemed.
But now, standing in this house, surrounded by the remnants of Maxwell's dark secrets, Misty couldn't help but feel a sense of grim satisfaction. No matter how secretive a person was, the truth always had a way of coming to light. And for Arthur Maxwell, that truth was more horrifying than anyone could have imagined.
What concerned Misty most, however, were the two folders placed neatly in front of the basement door. Beside them was a note, scrawled in what appeared to be blood: "Reveal this to the public, or I will." It was a chilling reminder, one that Misty knew couldn't be taken lightly. Whoever had done this—whoever had brought Maxwell's crimes to light—was sending a message.
And it was a message that demanded attention.
Captain Stacy arrived shortly after, his face drawn and tired. He had clearly come straight from home, bypassing the office to get to the scene as quickly as possible. His expression darkened as he took in the scene, his eyes narrowing as he approached Misty.
"Knight, is this the second victim?" he asked, his voice tight with tension.
Misty nodded; her arms crossed as she stood near the basement door. "Yes, Captain. But if you're asking whether I'd label him as a victim… I find it hard to do so."
Captain Stacy gave her a sharp look, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his tone a mix of confusion and concern.
Misty didn't answer right away. Instead, she gestured toward the basement, her expression grim. "See for yourself."
Stacy stepped forward, peering into the basement. His face turned pale, then green, as he took in the scene. Arthur Maxwell's body was sprawled on the stairs, his face bloodied and unrecognizable. But what caught Stacy's attention—what made his stomach churn—was what Maxwell was wearing. The white garb, the pointed hat… it was unmistakable.
"Is that… Arthur Maxwell?" Stacy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yep," Misty replied, her tone matter-of-fact.
"And is he wearing…?" Stacy trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"Also yes," Misty said, her voice steady. "We found him like that. Wearing that."
Stacy took a step back, his hand running through his hair as he processed what he was seeing. "This is… this is bad. Really bad."
Misty nodded; her expression grim. "Yeah. And it's not just him. There's more." She gestured to the folders on the floor, her eyes meeting Stacy's. "Whoever did this leave us a gift. And I have a feeling it's going to blow this city wide open."
Captain Stacy pinched the bridge of his nose, his face a mask of frustration and exhaustion. "Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath. "This is an even bigger headache than I thought."
Misty Knight stood beside him; her arms crossed as she dangled three crucial items from the scene in her hand. "By the way, Captain," she said, her tone grim, "we've got a much bigger problem to deal with."
Stacy looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the items she held. The first was a note, scrawled in blood: "Reveal this to the public, or I will." The words were stark, menacing, and impossible to ignore.
"This is really something," Stacy said, his voice low and grave. He took the note from Misty, his fingers tightening around the paper as he read it again. The message was clear—a warning, a demand, and a promise all rolled into one.
Misty handed him the two brown folders next, her expression unreadable. Stacy took them without a word, flipping through the pages carefully and slowly. His face grew darker with each passing second, his jaw tightening as he absorbed the contents.
"Oh, this is messed up," Stacy said finally, his voice hollow. He sat down heavily on the hood of his car, the folders resting in his lap. "Really messed up."
Misty leaned against the car beside him, her arms still crossed. "This is a massive conspiracy," she said, her tone steady but laced with anger. "It involves nearly 50% of New York's upper echelon—collusion, conspiracy, bribery, misuse of power, self-enrichment. And it's been going on for far too long."
Stacy nodded, his hands gripping the folders tightly. "Captain," Misty continued, her voice dropping slightly, "one thing I know for certain is that the people behind this aren't doing it halfheartedly. They're serious. And they're very driven."
She paused, her eyes flicking to the symbol carved into the basement door—the four-headed dragon, now with two of its heads crossed out. "And remember this symbol? Two heads are gone. That means there are two more targets left. Whoever's doing this isn't stopping anytime soon."
Stacy sighed, running a hand through his hair. The weight of the situation was crushing, and he knew it was only going to get worse. The investigation had just taken a turn into dangerous territory, and the stakes were higher than ever.
When Captain Stacy and Detective Misty Knight returned to the station, the news of Arthur Maxwell's death had already spread like wildfire. The station was in chaos, with everyone from the Police Commissioner to judges, lawyers, and influential figures demanding answers. The pressure was immense, and the atmosphere was tense.
The FBI, who had joined the investigation as part of a joint task force, initially acted as if they were in charge. They openly berated Stacy and Misty, dismissing their concerns and mocking their methods. Their priority seemed to be accommodating the powerful, not pursuing justice.
But when they were handed the two folders, their demeanor changed instantly. The FBI agents fell silent, their faces pale as they read through the damning evidence. The reality of the situation hit them hard—this wasn't just a case; it was a ticking time bomb. The names in those folders were too big, too powerful, and too connected to ignore.
"This… this needs to be confirmed and evaluated," one of the FBI agents said finally, his voice shaky. "We'll take it from here."
Misty and Stacy exchanged a glance, their frustration evident. They had anticipated this. The FBI wasn't interested in justice; they were interested in damage control. The folders were taken away, citing the need for further analysis, but everyone in the room knew the truth. The FBI was going to bury this.
Captain Stacy was furious. He stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. Misty followed; her expression grim.
"They're going to bury this," Stacy said, his voice low and seething. "They're going to protect those names, sweep it all under the rug. Or whatever those shady people would always do…This isn't about justice anymore. It's about protecting their own."
Misty nodded; her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. "We knew this would happen," she said quietly. "But we also knew this wasn't the end."
Stacy looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
Misty's lips curled into a faint, grim smile. "The note, Captain. 'Reveal this to the public, or I will.' Whoever left that message isn't going to let this go. If the FBI buries this, they'll take matters into their own hands. And when that happens… things are going to get a lot worse."
"Oh Fuck!" Stacy sighed, sinking into his chair.
He knew she was right. The situation was spiraling out of control, and there was no easy way out. The truth was too big, too dangerous, and too explosive to contain. And when it finally came out, it was going to shake New York to its core.
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A/N: Thank you for my supporters, as always.
The Next Bundle (EP81-90) Already Up, guys~
~ once again, Thanks to R3dmoon,Cultic239,S1iver,Whosnaw,Joe Thigpen and Junior~ your support meant a lot to me~ Thanks again lads~