April 15, 3:49 PM. David Alexander was found lifeless inside an abandoned apartment. There were no physical wounds on the victim's body, but forensic results showed that he had been dead for over 24 hours.
The old apartment had long been empty. But the stench of death still clung to the cracked walls and dust clumps in the corners. Investigators combed through every inch of the place. Outside, red and blue siren lights rotated slowly. Andrew stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the sentence displayed on the still-lit monitor—quiet, yet jarring: Try again.
Gregory lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke toward the decaying ceiling, then leaned his back against a wall with peeling paint.
"He's toying with us," he muttered.
"He planned everything meticulously," Gregory continued. "Letting us find the body, discover the result, and leaving a message."
Andrew turned to him. "Yeah, but why here? How did he get him here?"
Gregory nodded slowly. "You're right. The victim wouldn't have come to this place willingly. But there's no report of an abduction."
Andrew stepped closer to the monitor. He moved the mouse. The screen returned to the desktop—but something was off.
"Hey, look at this," he said.
"What?"
Gregory stepped closer.
"What's the first thing you notice?" Andrew asked.
Gregory squinted. "The map app. There are tons of icons on the screen, but somehow that one stands out the most."
Andrew clicked it. Turned out, the app had already been opened. A location was marked on the screen. Directly across from the old apartment.
"What's with that house?" Gregory asked a nearby officer.
"Nothing suspicious. Just a regular residence," the officer replied.
"Is there CCTV?" Andrew asked.
"Possibly. I'll check," said the officer, rushing off.
The next morning, the news spread fast. Every station aired clips: the white-masked figure, that deep rumbling voice, cutting words, and the final footage of a politician dying in silence.
But what stunned the public wasn't the footage—it was the comments that followed:
"He deserved it."
"Finally, someone took action."
"Maybe we need more people like him."
Forums, social media, and online news were flooded with similar remarks. Outrage. Satisfaction. Justification.
At central headquarters, the atmosphere in the morning meeting was heavier than usual.
"So, what's the victim's condition?" asked Captain Raymond.
"The victim was found deceased, no physical injuries," Olivia replied. "But he had been dead for over 24 hours."
"If that's the case, then what about the live broadcast?" an inspector asked.
"Looks like it was just a recording that was aired live," Olivia explained.
"When we arrived, the broadcast was still ongoing," Gregory added.
"Unlike the previous hijacking, this time only certain channels were taken over," said the communications staff.
"What do you mean?" Gregory asked.
"He only hijacked the police's internal network, a few television channels, and parts of the internet."
"We dropped the ball," Captain Raymond muttered.
"We need an official statement," said one of the inspectors. "We have to show we're going to catch him. Immediately."
"And if he strikes again before we do?" Olivia asked. "What can we promise the public if we can't even stop him?"
Silence.
Gregory glanced at Andrew, who had been quiet at the end of the table. "What are you thinking?"
Andrew looked up. "Sorry... I'm still trying to figure out why he aired his act live."
"Isn't it obvious? He wants the public's sympathy," Captain Raymond said.
"But... if a council member goes missing, that should be a big deal right away," Andrew said. "It's strange no one noticed."
"Right. If he's been dead for over 24 hours, there should've been an earlier report," Olivia added.
Gregory raised his hand. "Oh, right. We found something. Check this out. CCTV footage from the house across the apartment."
"Show it," Captain Raymond ordered.
The footage showed the victim's car arriving. Two people got out: the victim and possibly his aide. Moments later, the car drove off, leaving them behind.
Date of footage: April 12.
"April 12? That's two days before the body was found," an inspector noted.
"If he disappeared on April 12, there should've been a report," Gregory said.
"On the 11th, the victim filed for an investigation," Olivia added.
"If he'd been missing that long, the police should've known before that video ever aired," Andrew said.
"But the public wouldn't know unless the info leaked. That livestream wasn't just an execution. It was propaganda," said the communications staff.
Gregory added, "That wasn't just a killing. That was... a campaign."
Andrew fell silent, then slowly said, "Yeah... But why so clean? Why carry it out when the victim may have already been dead?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"If the goal was just to kill and send a message, a pre-recorded video would've sufficed. But livestreaming? That takes real-time coordination, secure networks, signal redirection…"
He looked at Gregory. "Someone helped him. Someone set all of this up."
Gregory slowly nodded. "Which means… he's not alone."
"Former intel? Cops? Hackers?" Captain Raymond asked.
Andrew shook his head. "I'm afraid… those people might be right here among us."
That afternoon, Andrew sat alone on the rooftop. The wind carried dust and the scent of sun-warmed asphalt. In his hand was an old report: the corruption investigation he nearly exposed—before he was silenced.
"He knows about this," he murmured. "He knows I almost uncovered everything."
Soft footsteps approached. Gregory arrived, holding two cans of cold coffee.
"If you're hoping the answer's in there, you'll be disappointed," he said as he sat down.
"He knows more than we think."
"That's what makes him dangerous," Gregory said. "But also… fascinating."
Andrew looked up at the sky. "If he's got someone inside the police, what do you think?"
Gregory looked at the same sky. "If that's true, then this isn't a cat-and-mouse game anymore."
He exhaled. "That means justice is no longer about who's right or wrong… but about who dares to face the truth, and who chooses to look away."
Gregory lowered his gaze, then turned to Andrew. "And the most terrifying ones aren't the corrupt. It's those who know… and choose to stay silent."
"We start digging tomorrow. Be ready."
Andrew nodded.
Night fell. Andrew returned to his apartment. Dim lights. He stacked all the documents on his table—names, notes, photos of the masked figure from the last broadcast.
He turned on an old tape recorder. White noise played. Silence.
Then, the sentence echoed again:
"Try again."
Andrew stared at the masked figure's photo. Long. Silent. Then, in a whisper meant more for himself than anyone else, he asked:
"Are you evil disguised as justice… or justice unrecognizable to a world already rotten? Who are you, really?"