Several days had passed since the mass hijacking orchestrated by the white-masked figure. The incident had shaken the city to its core. Public reactions were mixed—some were terrified, some saw it as the start of change, others remained indifferent, and not a few began to grow suspicious.
But for Andrew, this wasn't just another incident. It was a rare opportunity—perhaps the only one—to dive into something far bigger than any petty case he'd ever handled. He knew there was something behind this. Something deeper.
That morning, he started his day as usual: a cup of coffee, the TV on mute, and the familiar silence of his apartment. But today, his eyes lingered on the blank screen. As if waiting for something to return. Yet the screen remained silent.
When he arrived at police headquarters, the atmosphere was different. Quiet—but not because of silence. There was pressure in the air. Like the calm before a storm.
Near the elevator, Mary Celeste stood with her arms crossed.
"You look like you got dragged under a train," she said flatly.
Andrew ignored her. "Looks like it's going to be a busy day."
"Everyone's probably still shocked," Mary said, glancing around.
"You're right."
They walked side by side, their steps in sync.
"What do you think is the worst that could happen?" Mary asked.
Andrew glanced at her. "Definitely not whatever happened to that councilman."
"Hey, keep your voice down. Someone might hear."
"You worried? I thought you hated me," Andrew said with a thin smile.
"It's because you're too vocal that you're treated this way. You're stubborn. And that's dangerous," Mary replied seriously.
They fell silent. Only their footsteps echoed.
"Something bad is coming, Mary," Andrew finally said. "Worse than anything we've imagined."
In the main conference room, high-ranking officers had gathered. Tense faces surrounded the large round table. Captain Raymond sat in the center, flanked by Olivia, the lead analyst, and Detective Gregory John—recently brought back onto the case.
"So," Captain Raymond began, "we've all seen what happened. I want to hear it straight from you. What are your thoughts?"
"I think it's just a prank. Some joker," a senior officer said.
"Then why the hell are we having a meeting like this?" another snapped.
"Councilman David—he was the target. He's pressuring us to act quickly," someone else added.
"Enough," Raymond cut in. "Olivia, give us your preliminary report."
Olivia nodded. "The masked figure created public fear—not just because of the content, but the method of delivery. Every device broadcasted the message at once, and nothing could stop it."
"And what does that mean?"
Gregory, who had been silent until then, spoke up. "It means he has control over a system we don't even understand."
All eyes turned to him.
"Go on," Captain Raymond said.
Gregory stood. His gaze was sharp.
"Our target is the man in the mask. We don't know his identity, and we don't fully understand his intentions. But he's already decided who should be punished. And worse—people are starting to support him."
"Evidence?" an inspector asked.
"Protests have already started downtown. They're holding up signs that say, 'Justice Cannot Be Delayed.' They don't name him. But we all know who they mean."
"And the video?"
"It's gone. Only unofficial copies remain," Olivia explained.
Gregory added, "We're dealing with a symbolic figure. If he keeps appearing and showing truths we can't act on, the public will side with him. And we lose authority."
Silence fell over the room.
"I'll handle this case," Gregory said finally. "But on one condition."
"What's that?" Captain Raymond asked.
"I want Andrew Kael as my partner."
Andrew, still talking with Mary, was suddenly called into the meeting room. Mary shot him a sharp look.
"Don't make things worse," she said curtly.
After the meeting, Andrew caught up with Gregory in a back hallway.
"Why me?" he asked.
Gregory lit a cigarette, staring straight ahead.
"Because you've seen the rot up close. You tried to fight it, but they silenced you in subtle ways. I know your story, Andrew."
"The minister case?"
Gregory nodded. "You investigated it. Almost exposed it. They couldn't let that happen. But they also couldn't throw you out. They knew they'd need you one day. So they shut you down. Gave you scraps."
Andrew clenched his jaw. "So why bring me back now?"
Gregory exhaled. "Because you haven't given up. And only those discarded by the system know how to break into it."
"Now let me ask you, Andrew. What do you see in this case?"
Andrew opened his mouth, but didn't get the chance to speak.
The lights flickered. All screens in the building lit up at once.
He was back.
The white-masked figure. No eyes. No mouth. Only emptiness.
"I… am deeply disappointed in this country. All forms of crime can vanish with enough money. But what disappoints me more… is all of you. Oppressed, played with, humiliated, yet none of you dare to act. That's why I will act."
The screen shifted.
The same politician shown in the previous video—now bound to a steel chair, his head hanging low, breathing shallow. No longer the smiling man from campaign ads, but a hollow version of himself awaiting judgment.
At police HQ, the entire room froze. Faces stiffened, mouths open in shock. Even Gregory and Andrew stood still, as if time itself had nailed them in place.
"What are you waiting for? Track his location! He's broadcasting live right now!" Captain Jack shouted, breaking the silence.
Suddenly the room exploded in motion—frenzied typing, overlapping commands, endless notifications. The tracking team moved fast. A digital map appeared on the main screen. A location pinged.
"For the first time, real action will be taken. And I will be the one to represent your frustration. This man was given time. He chose silence. So I'll choose for him."
The masked man's voice was calm—but it shook the room.
Without delay, the police team rushed to the detected location. Their destination: an old, long-abandoned apartment building, standing silent amid the ruins of the past.
"To the police, the soldiers, the people, and those who run this nation—fear me. Follow my path. Seek me."
His voice still echoed from the screens in the command vehicle, from the officers' phones, even from radios that should've been dead. His words didn't just speak—they sank in.
When the team reached the site, they moved through damp, rust-scented hallways. Their footsteps echoed, creating an uneasy rhythm in the building's hollow stillness.
Finally, they reached the last room.
The old door creaked open. Inside: a dark room lit only by the pale blue glow of a monitor. The air reeked of metal and death.
There—sat the politician.
Rigid. Blank-faced. Lifeless. Staring into a screen still glowing.
One sentence displayed:
"Try again."