Cherki's phone buzzed like an insistent insect at 04:30. He blinked through the dark, thumbed the screen, and squinted at a push notification that glowed like temptation.
A congratulatory ping—so garish in the quiet hour it felt obscene—offered a gift pack. The app asked, in cheerful type, whether he wanted to open it. He stared at the question as if someone had asked him if he wanted to jump off a cliff for a prize. His thumb hovered. The idea of a small, meaningless reward in a world that had suddenly become very big and sharp made him smile in a brittle, private way.
Another notification cut through the dazzle; this one wore duty like a badge. It was from the bureau—urgent, terse. Cherki abandoned the trivial gift and tapped open the file.
The screen swallowed him. He read the headings twice before the letters became blood.
He read the report aloud under his breath, voice small and ragged in the empty flat.
INVESTIGATION REPORT 01
Case ID: CB-07-1149
Classification: Homicide
Date Filed: [This Morning]
Incident Window: 22:41 – 23:12 (Previous Night)
Location: Private Residence, Gated Suburb (Redacted)
Victim
Male, 47
CEO of [Company Name Redacted]
Cause of Death: Multiple sharp-force trauma (machete)
Summary of Events
At approximately 22:41, the victim returned home via private vehicle driven by a personal chauffeur. Driver departed after parking the vehicle in the garage. No irregularities reported at that time.
At approximately 22:58, the victim was attacked outside the front entrance of his residence by an unidentified male wielding a long-bladed weapon (believed to be a machete). The assault was rapid and lethal. Victim collapsed at the doorway and expired on scene.
Two minor children exited the residence shortly after the assault and discovered the body. Emergency services were contacted by neighbors and family members.
Witnesses
Two minor children (ages 6 and 9)
Multiple neighbors (visual confirmation of aftermath only)
Chauffeur (last confirmed contact with victim)
Suspect Description
Adult male
Wearing dark coat
Exhibited erratic behavior
Weapon: Machete
Fled toward wooded area behind the property
Suspect Status
At large
No immediate identification
No theft or personal items taken
Preliminary Findings
Attack appears targeted rather than opportunistic
No prior threats reported
Security systems showed no malfunction, but failed to capture attacker's face
Suspect observed remaining near scene briefly after the killing, behavior inconsistent with panic-driven flight
Reason for GSB Referral
Witness reports describe suspect behavior consistent with dissociation or fixation rather than escape urgency
Attacker reportedly remained watching the scene from nearby woodland
Pattern similarities noted with other recent incidents involving post-act observation
Status: Forwarded to Ghost & Supernatural Bureau for pattern correlation review.
INVESTIGATION REPORT 02
Case ID: CB-07-1152
Classification: Domestic Homicide
Date Filed: [This Morning]
Incident Window: 01:13 – 01:29 (Early Morning)
Location: Residential Apartment Unit (Redacted)
Victim
Female, 38
Cause of Death: Blunt force trauma to head and torso
Suspect
Male, 41
Husband of victim
Arrested on scene
Summary of Events
Neighbors reported a domestic disturbance involving shouting and crying. Upon police arrival, the female victim was found unresponsive in the kitchen area. Paramedics confirmed death on scene.
Investigation indicates an escalating domestic argument involving accusations of infidelity. Physical confrontation ensued. Victim sustained multiple blunt force injuries consistent with repeated punches.
Suspect was rendered unconscious after being struck on the head with a fire extinguisher by the couple's eldest child during the assault.
Witnesses
Three minor children (ages 7, 9, and 12)
Neighbors (audio only)
Suspect Statement
Claims loss of control following being stabbed or struck in the back during altercation
Claims no intent to kill
Preliminary Findings
Scene indicates excessive force beyond self-defense
Pattern of repeated strikes after victim was incapacitated
Children present throughout incident
Reason for GSB Referral
Eldest child reports suspect "changed" during assault, describing facial expression as "not him"
Similar language recorded in unrelated cases involving violent dissociative episodes
Recommendation: psychological and anomalous behavior cross-reference
Status: Forwarded to Ghost & Supernatural Bureau for behavioral anomaly assessment.
INVESTIGATION REPORT 03
Case ID: CB-07-1160
Classification: Homicide (Strangulation)
Date Filed: [This Morning]
Incident Window: 02:44 – 04:10 (Early Morning)
Location: Nightclub & Adjacent Private Room (Redacted)
Victim
Female, 17
Student
Cause of Death: Manual strangulation
Summary of Events
Victim entered nightclub with peers during a themed event. Witnesses confirm she was last seen seated alone before being approached by an older male.
The victim left the main venue with the suspect without informing her friends. Her body was discovered several hours later in a private room within the establishment.
Suspect Description
Adult male, estimated 35–45
Well-dressed, affluent appearance
Wearing luxury watch
Identity currently unknown
Witnesses
Friends of victim (last confirmed sighting)
Club staff (limited recollection)
CCTV footage partially corrupted
Preliminary Findings
No signs of forced entry or struggle at initial contact
Strangulation indicates prolonged physical control
Victim showed no defensive wounds consistent with immediate resistance
Reason for GSB Referral
CCTV corruption localized exclusively to suspect's movement path
Multiple witnesses describe difficulty recalling facial details despite direct interaction
Pattern aligns with previous cases involving charm-based victim compliance and memory distortion
Status: Forwarded to Ghost & Supernatural Bureau for entity-pattern review.
INTERNAL NOTE (ATTACHED)
Three homicides within one night. Different locations, different perpetrators, similar emotional catalysts: fixation, rage, persuasion. Recommend cross-case analysis for non-conventional influence patterns.
He dropped the phone onto the duvet like it had burned him. The familiar apartment around him—the cheap kettle, the stack of unpaid bills, the single plant he kept alive by guilt—felt suddenly papery, as though each object might crumble into paperwork if he looked at it wrong.
He read the report again, slower this time, as if speed had magnified the wrongness. The words did not create an image so much as a pressure behind his eyes. He swallowed hard and went for the kettle.
At the bureau the morning had that brittle silence of a city holding its breath. The stairwell smelled of wet coats; people walked through with the hesitant sort of air you get when alarms go off in the subconscious. He arrived earlier than usual, keys in hand, and saw that he was not the only one with that idea. The conference room windows were already fogged where bodies had leaned; Dave and others were seated, low voices knitting themselves into urgent threads.
Cherki didn't join them. He went straight to the chief's office as if some part of him expected a different person to be behind that door—someone who could make sense of mischief and murder and return them to the realm of the explainable.
"Morning," he said, stepping in without knocking. The chief looked up from his mug with the kind of tired politeness that always guessed work before sleep.
"You saw the files?" the chief asked, not a question but an offering of company in the disaster.
"I did." Cherki's voice still sounded wrong, as if someone else was borrowing it. "I opened the packet."
The chief scoffed—as if the air itself had been too small to contain three homicides. "Three," he repeated, then let the word slide through his teeth like a bitter seed. "Those were the ones sent to everyone. We've had more reports come in since—two more, actually. Central box is lighting up like a Christmas display of bad news."
"My God." Cherki felt a cold hand land on his sternum. "More?"
"Couple of street-level incidents flagged; not yet confirmed, but when the bureau pushes, the city answers. We'll print and share in ten. Sit tight."
The chief pushed a slim, printed copy across his desk like it might anchor Cherki to something official. "In the meantime," he said, "you can hold my copy. See what you make of it."
Cherki took the folder with hands that had stopped trembling but had not found calm. He nodded and left with the paper like contraband.
Outside the office door, corridor light spilled in flares. He walked back to his own little room—desk crowded with file trays and a mug that read BEST DAD (a joke, unseen, from before meaning had shifted)—and sat, the folder open like a mouth.
He read the reports again on paper. The ink had a different finality than the screen: there was no glow to distract, no app notification tempting him to a trivia prize. There were only the letters, suspiciously solid and inevitable.
"Hell is this," he muttered aloud, rubbing the bridge of his nose until the skin warmed. He ran his palm over the top of the page, feeling the grain of fiber, the tiny relief of type.
Dave found him in the doorway halfway through the second read, coffee in both hands like a peace offering. "You look like you slept on a crime scene," Dave said, voice half-joking, half-fractured.
Cherki gave a humorless smile. "Three already. And apparently some more. The chief says prints will be in the conference soon."
Dave set a cup down on Cherki's desk and leaned in, brows pulled. "Read 'em?"
"Yeah." Cherki's thumb tapped the file as if marking danger. "REPORT 03—there's a young victim at a club. CCTV corrupted along the suspect's path. Witnesses can't remember him. Looks like more than coincidence."
Dave's cup paused mid-air. "Corrupted footage? That's not—"
"Not routine," Cherki said. "And here—" He flipped gently to the internal note. "Emotional catalysts: fixation, rage, persuasion. Cross-case analysis recommended for non-conventional influence patterns."
"You're thinking what I'm thinking?" Dave asked, the question not a sentence so much as a defibrillator pad, asking for consent to shock.
Cherki didn't answer. He felt the gravity of the paper shift like a planet. It was the kind of thing you read once and then imagine people walking into in different shoes: families on porches, lovers in cars, a man in a dark coat watching a house like a seismograph of resentment.
Minutes crawled like small animals. The conference room filled with bodies and voices that made the walls judder. Maps were posted, phones were checked, someone called for CCTV pulls and chain-of-custody clerks. People moved like someone had flipped a light in the middle of a sleeping town.
Cherki stayed with the file as if proximity might stave off the strangeness. He ran through possibilities aloud to no one in particular.
"Security failure, staged—but they reported no malfunction. Multiple actors? Copycat? Or—"
"Or?" Dave prompted.
"Or something exploiting people," Cherki said, tasting the words and finding them bitter. "Something that uses persuasion—charms someone, gets them alone—and there's memory blur after. The report says witnesses have trouble recalling facial details. CCTV corruption limited to suspect route. That's specific."
Dave's mouth thinned. "We'll need forensics, IT, the works. And discretion." He glanced at the door, at the head's office. "Chief's already said keep it tight. No press. No leaks."
Cherki nodded. "Ghost & Supernatural Bureau is on the loop, too. These are forwarded to them for pattern correlation review." He said the name aloud, letting it land. The bureau's letters felt like another kind of protocol—one the city rarely spoke out loud.
Hours condensed into practical movement. Calls were made, teams assigned, the kind of administrative violence that turns panic into process. Cherki's morning blurred into lists: CCTV requests, interviews scheduled, children's services notes flagged.
Through it all his mind kept returning to the image that would not leave him—the blade's shadow, the spreadsheet list of lives catalogued in cold, bureaucratic language. He read each line and then closed his eyes, trying to imagine the people behind the text.
And somewhere else in the early, collapsing hours of the day, Elizabeth slept. Her phone lay face-down on her bedside table, the screen dark. In the quiet that precedes alarm clocks, her finger found the do-not-disturb icon, a careless press in sleep-slack movement.
Unbeknownst to her, at some point during her sleep she had accidentally clicked on it, causing the alarm not to trigger