Ridgecliff Outskirts – Patrol Route
10:24 PM
Brendon drove slowly down the empty dirt road, headlights dimmed, tires crunching lightly over gravel. The town had settled into a false calm again, blanketed under moonlight and that eerie, ghost-quiet air unique to Ridgecliff's outer edges.
He wasn't technically supposed to be patrolling alone, but after what they'd found at Eris Noir, he needed space. He needed to breathe.
He rolled the window down halfway. The night wind licked the edge of his jacket collar. Somewhere in the dark woods beyond the treeline, an owl gave a low call. His eyes flicked toward it out of instinct.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
He stared at it for a moment.
Another buzz. Then a third.
He picked up, pressing the phone to his ear without a word.
A voice slithered through the speaker — sultry, amused, laced with danger.
Ninja Fox: "Sheriff. Burning the midnight oil on the outskirts, I see."
Brendon's grip tightened on the steering wheel. How does she know he is here? Does this phone has a tracker on it?
Brendon: "I assume you've seen the video too."
Ninja Fox: "I uploaded the video, darling. Of course I've seen it."
Her words landed like a slap across his temple. He pulled the car over, cutting the engine.
Brendon: "What the hell do you want?"
Ninja Fox: "To see how much progress you've made. The stage is open, the spotlight's on you. Have you learned to dance yet, or are you still tripping over corpses?"
Brendon (his voice rising in temper): "It's hard to make progress when I'm knee-deep in this f***ing shenanigans. People staging death like theatre, videos going viral, and I'm juggling a goddamn political PR crisis."
There was a pause, then a soft chuckle.
Ninja Fox: "Such temper, Brendon. It's delicious. But it's also your enemy. You know that, right?"
He stayed silent.
Ninja Fox: "Sometimes I wonder. You like to think you're the calm one. The silent observer. But underneath, you're boiling. Ever wonder how you've kept your cool for so long in investigations?"
Brendon: "I've had practice."
Ninja Fox: "No. You've had luck. And right now? Luck is in short supply. Ask yourself, sheriff: when the curtain rises again… will you still be in the spotlight? Or the next trial?"
Click.
The line went dead.
Brendon sat there, hand frozen around the phone, heart thudding like war drums. He stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror — just a tired wolf, with eyes that saw too much and understood too little.
The trees whispered nothing.
---
Next Morning – 8:36 AM
Ridgecliff Morning Herald || Ridgecliff Observer || Channel 2 News
HEADLINES:
"CULT RITUAL IN RIDGECLIFF? Disturbing Video Goes Viral"
"Anonymous Footage Shows Alleged Murder in Woods – Police Remain Silent"
"Local Law Enforcement HIDING Information? Mayor Unaware of 'Graphic Ritual Clip'"
A grainy still from the video — the burning ring, the hanging body, the candlelit trees — was splashed across every screen, every homepage. Reddit threads were 10,000 comments deep. Conspiracy videos were trending.
Worse — parents were pulling their kids from Ridgecliff High. Businesses reported calls from "concerned tourists." The phrase "cult town" had started to trend.
And somewhere on Channel 2, an anchor said the words:
"...has all the markings of either a serial performance killer or a small, deeply hidden group operating under police noses."
Brendon didn't even bother turning the volume up.
His phone buzzed.
Chief Tyson.
Tyson: "Brendon. Get your ass to the station. Mayor wants both of us now."
Brendon: "He saw the news."
Tyson: "No thanks to our dearly beloved social media. I wanted this contained. Now he thinks we're running a clown circus with murder props."
Brendon: "He's not wrong."
Tyson: "Just get here."
---
Mayor Guerieo's Office – 9:25 AM
Mayor Enrico Guerieo stood at the window of his high-rise office, staring out at the fog-laced rooftops of Ridgecliff with his arms folded tight behind his back. A man in his sixties with silver-streaked black hair and a politician's posture, he wore a tailored grey suit and an expression that could shatter brick.
When Brendon and Tyson walked in, he didn't turn around.
Mayor Guerieo: "It's a beautiful town. Isn't it, gentlemen?"
Tyson: "Sir—"
Mayor Guerieo: "I said isn't it?"
Brendon: "Yes, sir. It is."
The mayor slowly turned, eyes locking onto them like lasers.
Mayor Guerieo: "Then why in God's name is it being painted as the new Salem on every digital cesspool this country has?"
Silence.
Mayor Guerieo (snapping): "A video. A goddamn snuff video. With fire, nudity, ritual symbols. Someone made a movie out of a murder and uploaded it for the world to see! And I'm the last one to know about it?"
Tyson: "I made the call to keep the investigation internal until we had something actionable. The leak wasn't from our side, sir."
Mayor Guerieo: "Oh, good. That clears it right up. You weren't incompetent. You were just secretive."
He paced behind his desk.
Mayor Guerieo: "What happened to chain of command? What happened to containment? You think Ridgecliff can survive another scandal? You think I can? We've got tourist revenue plummeting, city council blowing up my inbox, and do you want to know what the Chamber of Commerce called me this morning?"
Brendon: "A liar?"
Mayor Guerieo (slamming desk): "They called me a risk! And as for you—"
He pointed sharply at Brendon.
Mayor Guerieo: "—you've been here what? Three years? Four?"
Brendon: "Two."
Mayor Guerieo: "And in those two years, Ridgecliff has seen two serial investigations, one black kid getting murdered by one in the police department, and now this. Tell me, Brendon — are you unlucky, or are you cursed somehow?"
Tyson's jaw tensed.
Tyson: "That's unfair, sir. Brendon has led those investigations with precision and professionalism—"
Mayor Guerieo: "And how many have he closed? How many killers in cuffs, Tyson? How many of those trials turned into convictions?"
Brendon took a step forward.
Brendon (snaps out): "I don't have the luxury of press conferences and ribbon-cuttings, Mayor. I don't get to hide behind clean suits and blame. I'm in the goddamn mud, with corpses, trauma, and lies. And maybe I haven't closed every case — but I've stayed when others left. I've looked under every rotten plank this town has buried. Don't question my commitment just because it makes your poll numbers sweat."
A charged silence stretched in the office like a pulled wire.
The mayor stared at him.
Then sat down, steepling his fingers.
Mayor Guerieo: "Fine. You want commitment? Then consider yourself tethered. From this moment forward, you report directly to me. Not just Tyson. Me. I want updates on this case. Every twenty-four hours. If another leak happens, you'll both be answering to a state auditor and maybe even the feds."
Tyson: "Understood."
Mayor Guerieo: "Dismissed."
As they exited the office, Tyson muttered under his breath:
Tyson: "I liked him better when he was just threatening budget cuts."
---
Ridgecliff PD Parking Lot – 10:12 AM
Brendon leaned against the hood of his car, lighting a cigarette with a shaking hand.
Tyson came up beside him.
Tyson: "You handled yourself well. Mostly."
Brendon: "Think he'll get off our backs if I find the killer?"
Tyson: "No. But he might finally shut up long enough for us to work."
Brendon: "He's right about one thing. This town… it's rotting from somewhere. You can feel it."
Tyson: "Yeah. But if you dig too deep, you end up buried with it."
They both watched the horizon for a long moment — quiet, smoky, tense.
Behind them, the station buzzed like a hive starting to boil over.
And somewhere far off, beyond the woods, behind glass screens and VPN walls…
Another file was preparing to go live.
TRIAL_TWO.MP4