It was approaching midnight.
Having finished slacking off, they were ready to hand over the shift.
Mike and Frank returned to the precinct to complete their reports and hand over their equipment.
Working until midnight is a completely different feeling from partying until midnight.
Mike felt his eyelids growing heavy and his whole body was uncomfortable, yet his mind remained somewhat over-stimulated.
“Go back and get some good sleep,” Frank urged.
“Try not to schedule anything during the day tomorrow.
Let your body adjust.”
Mike nodded.
He was picking up his backpack and heading toward his car when a voice suddenly crackled over the radio from dispatch:
“All units, Code 10-54.
Intersection of Carroll Street and 4th Avenue.
Caller reports a male down, suspected gunshot fatality.
Nearby units, please respond immediately.”
Mike stopped in his tracks and looked at Frank.
Carroll Street was only six blocks from the precinct and fell within their patrol sector.
Frank let out a groan and waved him over.
“Get in!”
Mike jumped back into the patrol car and hit the siren.
Five minutes later, they arrived at Carroll Street.
It was a narrow alleyway flanked by old apartment buildings covered in graffiti.
A small crowd had already gathered at the mouth of the alley.
Among them, a middle-aged woman in pajamas was pointing deep into the shadows, her face pale.
Frank parked the car.
The two of them drew their sidearms and approached cautiously.
The light in the alley was dim, but it was enough to see the situation: a man wearing a black hoodie and jeans was lying face-down next to a dumpster.
A pool of dark liquid had spread beneath him.
There was a visible wound at the back of his head, with blood and brain matter splattered against the wall.
“Execution-style,” Frank whispered, staying alert.
“Shot from behind, close range.”
“Step back, everyone.
Caller, please stay.
If anyone else heard gunshots earlier, you can talk to us.” Hand on his holster, Mike walked toward the onlookers.
The crowd retreated but didn’t go far.
Only the middle-aged woman raised her hand.
“I’m the one who called it in!”
[Ding!]
[Host has made contact with a gang homicide scene.
Triggering Story Mission: Gang Homicide.]
[Mission Description: The deceased was a low-level distributor for the Buffalo Gang, placed on a suspicion list for embezzling funds.
However, the hit was actually carried out by the rival gang, the Scarlet Angels.]
[Mission Requirements: Secretly fan the flames to make the conflict between both sides more intense.
Fish in troubled waters; do not let the contraband and illicit cash go to waste.
Help the detective squad close the case—as for whether the real killer is found, who really cares?]
[Mission Rewards: 150 Points, increased favorability with the Detective Squad, 1x Special Item Purchase Opportunity.]
[Time Limit: 120 hours.]
Mike quickly pulled out the yellow tape to cordon off the area.
He appeared to be standing guard, but he was actually studying the mission information.
He was already somewhat familiar with the gangs in this district, including the Buffalo Gang, but the “Scarlet Angels” didn’t seem to be a local group.
They looked like an encroaching gang.
“The detectives and the medical examiner are on their way.
Oh, great, backup is here.
Looks like we can leave early.” Frank was talking to Mike when he saw the flashing police lights in the distance and immediately brightened up.
He had been dazed just now; the system hadn’t issued a Side Quest this time, but a Story Mission, likely equivalent to a main quest in a game.
He wasn’t surprised that the mission didn’t require him to solve the case, especially given it was a gang vendetta.
Still, he almost laughed out loud at the line “as for whether the real killer is found, who really cares?”
“Everyone, please step back!
Do not disturb the scene!”
The newly arrived patrol officers helped maintain order.
Mike went back to the car to report the situation over the radio and continued to request support.
Dispatch confirmed that the detective squad was on the way and had dispatched another patrol car from the new shift to assist.
While waiting, Mike carefully observed the surrounding environment.
Across the street was an apartment building.
A window on the third floor was slightly open, curtains fluttering in the morning breeze.
His dynamic vision caught a shadow flashing past that window.
“Frank, third floor across the street, second window from the left,” Mike whispered.
“Someone’s watching.”
Frank looked up, but the window was already closed and the curtains were still.
“Probably a resident woken up by the noise,” Frank said, though his hand remained on his pistol grip.
“Note the location.
We’ll tell the detectives later.”
Ten minutes later, the second wave of reinforcements arrived.
Two patrol cars blocked off both ends of the alley with caution tape.
Another five minutes passed before a black SUV drove up and parked at the corner.
Detective Liam Carter stepped out from the driver’s seat, while another younger plainclothes detective climbed out of the passenger side.
Liam was wearing the same jacket as earlier that day, his expression solemn.
Frank tapped Mike, who was starting to doze off, and they both got out of the car.
“Frank, Mike.” Liam nodded to them, ducked under the tape, and walked toward the body.
The medical examiner knelt to examine the corpse, while crime scene technicians began taking photos and collecting evidence.
Liam listened to Frank’s brief report on the discovery and then looked at Mike.
“You noticed a possible witness in the building across the street?”
“Yes, third floor, second window from the left.
Someone pulled the curtain back to look, then closed it very quickly.”
Liam turned to the younger detective.
“Ryan, go ask around.
Take a patrol officer with you.”
The detective named Ryan nodded, signaled a patrol officer, and walked toward the apartment building.
Liam knelt by the body, put on gloves, and gently turned the victim’s head.
The gunshot wound to the back of the head was clearly visible, with singe marks around the edges of the wound, indicating a shot fired at point-blank range.
“.38 caliber, probably a revolver,” Liam judged.
“Classic execution-style.”
The medical examiner added, “Time of death is roughly two hours ago.
The body temperature is already nearing ambient levels…”
Mike remembered the gunshots he had heard coming from the direction of Hell’s Kitchen.
Was there a connection?
Or just a coincidence?
The forensics team found a phone, a stack of cash, and a small plastic bag containing several white pills in the victim’s pockets.
“No wallet, no ID,” the technician noted.
“The phone has a passcode lock.”
Liam picked up the plastic bag and held it up to the streetlight.
“What type?”
“Needs testing, but most likely addictive painkillers,” the medical examiner replied, placing it in an evidence bag.
Detective Ryan returned from the apartment building.
As he passed Mike, he bumped his fist against his own chest.
“Good lead.
Nice job!”
Ryan said to Liam, “The resident is a seventy-year-old lady with failing eyesight.
She said she heard a noise and looked out the window.
She saw someone come out of the alley and drive off in a blue pickup truck.
She said she couldn’t sleep after that and lay back down for about an hour and a half until she heard people down here and looked out again.”
“Good.
Get it all down.
Tomorrow we start checking the surrounding surveillance, focusing on blue pickups.” Liam stood up and stripped off his gloves.
“Frank, Mike, you two head back to the precinct to write your report before you clock out.
Davis’s team will stay behind…”
“Understood.”
By the time they got back to the precinct, Mike’s drowsiness had vanished.
He took the initiative to handle the report.
He wrote a simple description of the arrival at the scene, the condition of the body, and the potential witness information.
Halfway through, Sergeant Huggins walked in.
Mike’s brain stalled for a second.
He turned to check the time; it was already 5:00 AM, and it was light outside.
“Heard you guys stumbled onto another case?” Huggins asked.
“Homicide, mouth of the alley on Carroll Street,” Frank replied.
“Detective Carter has taken over.”
Huggins nodded and looked at Mike.
“First a robbery, now a homicide.
Kid, do you have some kind of ‘case magnet’ constitution?”
Mike gave a wry smile.
“I hope not, Sergeant.”
Huggins patted his shoulder.
“Just joking.
Make the report detailed.
You’re the second promising recruit Liam’s taken an interest in since Davis.
By the way, how was the night shift?”
“Sleepy,” Mike said honestly.
“Normal.
You’ll get used to it after a few times,” Huggins laughed.
“But you look like you’re holding up okay.
Frank didn’t corrupt you too much, did he?”
Frank raised his middle finger in response.
Huggins left, laughing loudly.
By the time the report was written and submitted, it was 6:30 AM.
Mike and Frank finished their handover and dragged their exhausted bodies toward the parking lot.
“Go home, take a hot shower, and go straight to sleep,” Frank said.
“Don’t even think about doing anything during the day.
Your body will protest.”
“Got it.
What about you?”
“Catching up on sleep, obviously.” Frank pulled open his car door.
“The temperature’s going to drop for the next night shift.
Remember to bring heavy clothes.
It gets cold after midnight.”
Mike, already wrapped in his trench coat, nodded.
He definitely wasn’t feeling warm right now.
On the drive home, Mike thought about the mission.
The system prompt was clear.
This wasn’t a simple gang internal cleanup; it was a frame-up.
The Scarlet Angels wanted to dismantle the Buffalo Gang to seize their territory.
If that were the case, more murders would happen over the next few days.
And he, presumably, would become one of the killers.