The halls of the Heldale municipal mortuary were silent—eerily so. The walls, painted an aging cream, carried the chill of the place. A slight hum from the fluorescent lights above buzzed lazily in the background, flickering now and then.
Mayor Ronald Myers walked down the corridor with measured steps. His hands were buried in the pockets of his leather coat, jaw tight, face unreadable. At his side walked Detective Harrold, a man in his early forties, sharp-eyed with a thick moustache and sleeves rolled up past the elbows of his beige shirt.
They didn't say much on the walk in. Neither of them wanted to. They had seen enough horror over the years to know that whatever lay under that linen sheet wasn't going to be good.
The mortuary assistant opened the door for them without a word. Inside, the room was painfully sterile. The metal drawers lining the wall glinted faintly under the overhead light, and the cold air settled in their lungs like a weight.
In the center of the room lay the body—covered in a white sheet, the kind hospitals used to cover up pain they couldn't fix. Only the head remained visible. Mayor Ronald's expression faltered slightly as he took a step closer, the scent of cold iron thick in the air.
The man on the table had been Officer Ren Gallow. Said to be a loyal and dependable member of the force. Now he lay lifeless, a jagged hole through the side of his skull that looked nothing like any wound a normal weapon would cause.
His skin was pale, lips purpled. His eyes were shut, and his short brown hair was still stiff with dried blood.
Mayor Ronald drew in a breath through his nose and slowly exhaled. "Unbelievable," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "What happened to him, Harrold?"
Detective Harrold adjusted his glasses, frowning deeply. "It started with his comms. According to the Unit Control, Officer Gallow had reported some kind of movement in the children's theme park during his patrol shift. Said he saw someone—or something—lurking near the tree line."
The Mayor didn't say anything. He kept his eyes locked on the man's face.
"Apparently, he followed it into the park," Harrold continued, "called in to report visual confirmation on an unknown figure. Said it was unresponsive to his questions. That was his last communication. Dead air afterward."
"Time of death?" the Mayor asked.
Harrold opened his folder. "Between 10:57 and 11:13 PM based on a PMI—Post-mortem interval carried out by the forensic team. Backup arrived shortly after 11:30. Found him near the candy booth section. Gun a few feet from him. They thought maybe he slipped, got into a physical clash —" Harrold shook his head. "But there's no signs of a struggle. No defensive wounds. Just that... hole."
Ronald's lips twitched.He looked over to the sheet-covered body again. "Any footage from the area?"
Harrold sighed. "No security cameras. It's a children's park, sir. City funding hasn't stretched that far since we pulled surveillance from the east side."
Ronald pinched the bridge of his nose hard, trying to suppress the throb growing behind his eyes. "What about the evidences?"
"No fingerprints. No footprints, either. No tire tracks. It was as if whoever did this walked through the air," Harrold said, eyes narrowing. "But the lab confirmed that a sharp object, long and thin, was used to pierce directly into the cranial cavity. Precision. Not a jagged stab like from a knife. Something cleaner. Stronger."
Ronald stared at him. "Stronger?"
Harrold nodded. "Too clean. The kind of puncture that doesn't match any standard combat knife or field weapon. It went through his skull like butter. No splintering. Minimal cracking."
The Mayor's hand dropped from his face, his mouth dry. "That doesn't sound ordinary."
"No, sir," Harrold muttered. "It doesn't."
For a moment, neither man spoke. The mortuary lights buzzed above them like insects.
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Mayor Ronald stared back at the pale, lifeless face of corpse, the flickering light above casting faint shadows over the gaping hole through the side of the man's head. A deep breath pushed through the Mayor's chest.
"What do you think this is, Harrold?" he asked, his voice low and sharp, like he already knew he wouldn't like the answer.
Detective Harrold didn't respond immediately. His brows furrowed as he shifted his gaze from the corpse to the Mayor, his expression dark and thoughtful.
"I think..." Harrold began, his voice cautious, "...we're not dealing with a rookie. Whoever did this—knew exactly what they were doing. They knew how to move. How to vanish. How to strike with accuracy."
The Mayor turned to him, eyes narrowing.
Harrold continued, "The theme park was locked up for the night at the appropriate time. No gates open, no staff present, and the officer never reported anyone breaking in. Yet he spotted someone already inside the park. That means they didn't come through the front... they found another way in."
He stepped closer to the table and stared down at the clean puncture in the officer's skull.
"This person—has probably mastered every inch of Heldale. Every backstreet, sewer drain, service route, and blind spot. They're comfortable moving through shadows, using the town like a hunting ground."
He looked up at Ronald again, his eyes hardening.
"They've done this before. And if we don't find them soon, they're not going to stop."
Mayor Ronald stared back at Harrold, his expression unreadable, but the slight twitch of his jaw betrayed him.
"God help us if you're right," he muttered. "Because if they know this town better than we do… then we're already playing catch-up in a game we don't understand."