chapter 11- the blood bath

The city had always whispered with secrets, a murmur of unsolved crimes and midnight transgressions that people chose to ignore. But recently, the whispers had turned into cries. Killings had escalated overnight—messy, scattered, each of them seemingly taunting the police department's inability to keep order. Even worse, each killing seemed to cast a shadow directly onto Karon's meticulously crafted territory.

As she sifted through the latest reports, Karon's hands tightened around the edges of the file. It wasn't the brutality of the crimes that angered her; it was the sloppiness. Her imitators had begun to encroach on her work, seemingly fascinated with recreating her exact methods but without her precision. Each botched replica of her kills was like a cheap forgery, and it gnawed at her sense of control.

The latest victim had been a 23-year-old woman, found in an alley just blocks away from the police station. That alone made Karon's stomach twist; it was as though these imitators were purposefully daring her, closing in on her personal space, hoping to draw her out into the open. But worse still, her latest investigation revealed something unsettling: the woman had been murdered using Karon's exact techniques, down to the unique mark she left on every victim. She felt a surge of anger. This was supposed to be her symbol, her trademark, and yet someone had carelessly stamped it onto a stranger's body as if it were their own.

Karon took a breath, her fingers drumming against her desk as she forced herself to think. The case was already drawing intense scrutiny, and Jade—sharp, observant Jade—was growing more suspicious by the day. Her mask would have to hold, and it would have to hold flawlessly.

She put on her coat, readying herself for yet another night of tangled lies and double-checks on her imitators' work. Jade was at his desk across from her, poring over a map of the city. Each new murder location was marked with a red pin, and from the way his brow creased, he seemed to be on the verge of connecting dots that Karon had carefully erased.

"Another one," he muttered, staring hard at the cluster of pins.

Karon tilted her head, slipping on her best mask of indifference. "You sound almost... hopeful," she teased, a small smile twisting her lips.

Jade barely glanced up, still focused on the map. "Not hopeful," he replied, "just… close. Whoever's doing this, they're either taunting us or they're desperate for attention. Maybe both."

"Maybe they're just reckless." She shrugged, feigning disinterest, though her pulse quickened. Every word he said was a glimpse into his suspicions. If she wasn't careful, he'd trace this chaos right back to her.

Jade gave her a look, the kind that cut deeper than he realized. "Reckless is one thing. But there's something about this string of murders... it's like they're trying to mimic something. Someone."

Karon fought to keep her face calm. She leaned in, feigning curiosity as she asked, "So, you think it's an imitator?"

Jade nodded slowly. "Or worse, a group. Each killing has slight differences, but the method is eerily similar. It's almost as if they're trying to send a message to someone."

A chill went down Karon's spine. Did he know? Could he have pieced together her signature? She forced herself to stay composed, offering him a skeptical smirk. "Sounds like someone has been watching too many detective shows."

He shook his head, sighing as he finally looked away from the board. "Maybe. Or maybe we're dealing with a killer who's… organized. Someone who thinks they're above the law."

A ripple of satisfaction mixed with irritation passed through her. Jade wasn't far off, but his words highlighted her current problem. Her imitators had disrupted the rhythm she'd cultivated, and each poorly executed kill chipped away at the precision she was known for.

---

Later that night, Karon slipped away from her apartment under the cover of darkness, her mind racing with thoughts of retribution. If these pretenders wanted to play her game, she would give them a taste of what real fear looked like. The recent murders had drawn attention from every news channel and journalist in the city, with headlines like *"Who's Really in Control of Our Streets?"* painting the police department as helpless. The irony wasn't lost on her; she'd spent so much time perfecting her game, and now amateurs were upending it, leaving bodies in their wake like reckless children scattering toys.

She'd planned on taking her time with her next target, choosing someone who would fulfill her need for precision and catharsis alike. But tonight, she was too agitated to wait. Tonight, she needed to reassert herself.

She slipped down the winding alleys of her favorite hunting ground, her eyes scanning the empty streets for a potential victim. She spotted him near a dimly lit bar, stumbling along the sidewalk, oblivious to her presence. He was young, early twenties, maybe an innocent. A twinge of guilt flared in her mind, but she squashed it. Tonight was about sending a message to anyone foolish enough to claim her territory.

Within minutes, he was at her mercy, his body slumped against a wall as she made quick, calculated incisions. She worked with surgical precision, ensuring each mark was exactly as it should be. This kill would stand out among the rest, a cold, precise reminder to her imitators that there was only one true artist in this city.

When she finished, she stood back, admiring her work. The body lay twisted, with each mark meticulously placed, each cut a deliberate echo of her rage. This was her calling card, her artistry. She lingered for a moment, letting the satisfaction wash over her before slipping back into the shadows.

---

The next morning, the city buzzed with news of the latest murder, but this time, Karon's handiwork was unmistakable. She overheard officers speculating about the sudden surge in copycat killings, some suggesting it was an organized crime group, others whispering about cults or gang rivalries. She suppressed a smirk, enjoying the chaotic theories they spun around her.

But Jade was quiet, his gaze trained on the latest crime scene photos. He leaned closer, tracing his finger along the map, muttering to himself.

"This one's different," he said finally, glancing up at Karon. "It feels… colder. More deliberate."

Karon raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "And what makes you think that?"

He shrugged, frustration clear in his eyes. "The others were reckless, random. But this one—it's as if someone wanted to remind us of their presence. Like they're setting boundaries."

Boundaries. She felt a twisted sense of pride. He was close to the truth, but he still didn't know it was her he was chasing. "Sounds like you're giving them too much credit," she said lightly, masking her satisfaction. "Maybe they're just refining their technique."

Jade let out a tired laugh. "Or maybe they're playing a bigger game than we realized."

As he turned back to the map, Karon felt a chill of excitement course through her veins. Her imitators would be dealt with soon enough, each one reminded of their place. But for now, she would let Jade stay on her trail, always just one step behind, the perfect pawn in her deadly game.