Analytical Report

Doctor Zein finished her meticulous adjustments to the HS-XR01-a, his eyes narrowing as he reviewed the results. With a quiet sigh, he muttered to himself, "That's it, I'm done."

Heendon, who had been watching with a mix of fascination and impatience, raised his eyes from the table. "So? You're leaving, then?", She asked, a trace of disbelief in her voice.

Doctor Zein didn't even look up as she packed her things. "Yes. It's time to return home," he said, his voice crisp and detached.

Heendon blinked, as if the words were lost on her for a moment. Then, with an almost childlike insistence, she straightened up. "I'm coming with you," she announced, the words firm, yet the undertone of defiance unmistakeable.

Doctor Zein paused, turning his gaze on her for the first time. His brow quirked in mild surprise. "And why, pray tell, would you come with me? I'm simply going home," he said, his tone steady but edged with the kind of authority that often made others rethink their decisions.

"I'll come because I want to," Heendon said simply, folding her arms across her chest, her stance a quiet declaration of resolve.

The doctor gave a soft snort of amusement, then shook his head in a manner that suggested both exasperation and amusement. "You're not going. Stay here and watch over my house while I'm gone. That's your duty."

Heendon's response was immediate, his voice unyielding. "No, I'll come. I won't stay behind."

What followed was a brief, yet spirited back-and-forth. Doctor Zein's patience wore thin as Heendon continued to argue her case. He found her persistence grating, but at the same time, oddly endearing.

It was a strange dynamic, one that he hadn't quite figured out, but it was a dynamic that had existed for longer than he cared to admit.

The argument continued until, finally, with a sigh of resignation, he conceded. "Very well," he muttered, his tone now one of reluctant acceptance. "You may come. But don't expect me to make things easy for you."

With that, Heendon flashed a triumphant grin, clearly pleased with the outcome, while Doctor Zein simply shook his head, as though already regretting the decision.

Without another word, they gathered their belongings, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the room.

The air was thick with unspoken tension, as if both of them were acutely aware of the journey ahead, a journey that neither of them truly understood, but both were now inextricably tied to.

The silence between them lingered, but it was not uncomfortable. Instead, it was a kind of quiet understanding, one that existed not in the spoken word but in the shared anticipation of what was to come.

And so, they set off, leaving the confines of the lab behind them, each step bringing them closer to an unknown destination.

(30 minutes later)

The faint hum of the car engine dissipated into the stillness of the evening as Doctor Zein parked in the driveway. The house loomed ahead, silent and unwelcoming, as though time itself had paused within its walls.

Inside the car, Doctor Zein turned sharply towards Heendon, his expression a blend of irritation and urgency. "Listen to me carefully," he said, his tone clipped and precise. "You are not to say or do anything strange. No mention of my past. No comments about… anything unusual. Especially not to my parents."

Heendon, reclining in her seat with an air of casual defiance, raised a brow. "Don't worry," she said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "I'll behave." Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, "But what if I introduce myself as your wife? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Zein's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure exasperation. "Absolutely not!" He snapped, his voice laced with barely restrained fury.

Heendon smirked, unfazed. "You're terrified, aren't you?" she teased, a playful edge to her tone. "Scared they might actually like me more than you."

Zein huffed in frustration, throwing open the car door and stepping out with a calculated grace. "Just keep your mouth shut," he muttered over his shoulder.

Heendon followed, her movements deliberately languid, as though to emphasise her nonchalance.

As they approached the house, the door creaked open, revealing three women standing in the doorway. Their gazes locked onto Zein, a mixture of curiosity and quiet judgement flickering in their eyes.

Zein straightened his posture, his face a mask of professional calm. He nodded politely to the trio, though the tension in his body was impossible to miss.

Heendon, trailing a step behind, let her eyes flit between the women and Zein, her smirk growing wider.

She said nothing, but the amused sparkle in her gaze spoke volumes. This, Heendon thought to herself, was going to be a moment to savour.

Doctor Zelena, Zara, and Fazeeya remained stationed in the doorway, their postures formidable and their expressions unyielding.

It was clear they had been lying in wait, and their collective energy now bore down upon Zein like a storm.

"And where exactly have you been all this time?!" demanded Doctor Zelena, her words clipped and frosty.

"Zein, honestly! You've got no heart whatsoever!" Zara added, her voice rising with incredulity.

"Don't you miss me, big brother? Not even a little?" chimed Fazeeya, her tone a curious blend of hurt and accusation.

Dr. Zein froze, rooted to the spot. His mind raced for a reply, but no words came. He felt like a cornered animal, trapped and utterly defenceless.

Meanwhile, Heendon, standing at his side, seemed to find the entire ordeal endlessly entertaining. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, and she leaned in slightly.

"Trouble at home, Filzev? This looks serious," she whispered with mock sympathy, her grin wide and infuriatingly smug.

Dr. Zein glared at her, his eyes a warning, but Heendon merely shrugged, clearly unbothered.

The three women, however, were no longer focused on him. Their attention had shifted to Heendon, their gazes sharp and brimming with suspicion.

"Who is she?!", they demanded in unison, their voices rising in perfect harmony.

"She's… uh… she's a friend," Dr. Zein stammered, his usually sharp wit failing him entirely under their scrutiny.

"A friend?" Zelena echoed, her brow arching in disbelief.

Dr. Zein, sensing the growing tension, quickly manoeuvred past them. "I'm going inside," he muttered, his tone a poor attempt at nonchalance.

Heendon moved to follow, but before she could take a step, the three women closed ranks, forming an impenetrable barrier.

"Not so fast," Dr. Zelena said firmly. "We asked who you are."

Heendon tilted her head, feigning indifference. "Didn't Zein just explain? I'm a friend," she said, her tone deliberately casual.

"Watch your tone," Zara snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.

"What's your problem?" Heendon replied, her patience fraying ever so slightly.

Fazeeya narrowed her eyes, her suspicion deepening. "Old lady, are you someone important to my brother?"

Heendon froze, her smirk faltering. Old lady? The insult hit harder than she cared to admit. She clenched her fists, resisting the very real temptation to retaliate. After a moment, she inhaled deeply, forcing a smile back onto her face.

"Does it matter who I am?" she said finally, her tone cool and unbothered. "What matters is that for the past week, Zein's been living with me. Just the two of us. And I must say… it's been quite… enjoyable."

Her words hung in the air like a thunderclap. With a casual shrug, she stepped around them and into the house, leaving them frozen in shock.

It took a moment for her words to fully register, but when they did, the three women erupted in a cacophony of outrage.

"ZEEEIIINNN! You ungrateful, shameless scoundrel!"

==========

(In the Autopsy Room)

The air in the room was heavy with sterilising chemicals and a palpable tension as Kapten Lenny moved meticulously between the rows of lifeless bodies.

The victims were laid out in perfect alignment, their pale forms casting haunting shadows beneath the stark fluorescent lights.

"Remarkably clean," Lenny muttered, leaning in to examine a deep incision on one of the bodies. "What sort of killer exhibits this level of precision?" she mused aloud, her voice low and edged with disbelief.

A junior officer approached, breaking her train of thought. "Captain, the laboratory results should be arriving shortly," he reported, his posture rigid with duty.

Lenny acknowledged him with a curt nod before turning her gaze back to the bodies. Something about the scene gnawed at her, a pattern she couldn't yet decipher.

Across the room, she noticed the forensic pathologist scrubbing his hands clean, the faint sound of running water echoing in the sterile environment.

She strode purposefully toward him. "Anything unusual in your findings?" she inquired, her tone direct but not unkind.

The pathologist shook his head slowly, then hesitated. "The majority of the victims were dispatched with alarming speed clean, efficient. But these five," he said, gesturing towards the far end of the room, "stand apart."

Lenny's brow furrowed. "Explain," she demanded, folding her arms.

He sighed and gestured for her to follow. "The wounds on these five are... unique. The lacerations are far more severe, almost surgical in nature. I'd wager the weapon wasn't your standard knife. it was a scalpel, or more specifically, an autopsy blade."

Lenny's eyes narrowed. "You're certain of this?"

"As certain as I can be after fifteen years in this field," he replied confidently. "Look here." He carefully lifted the covering from one of the bodies, revealing a wound so precise it could have been drawn with a ruler. "A knife, even in skilled hands, couldn't achieve this level of straightness without enormous effort. But an autopsy blade? With minimal force, it can create an incision this clean, even through layers of muscle."

Lenny stared at the wound, her mind racing. "So, your conclusion?"

The pathologist straightened. "The perpetrator is likely a medical professional, perhaps a forensic pathologist like myself, or a surgeon. If not, they're closely connected to someone with such expertise. These blades aren't easily accessible, only licensed professionals can obtain them legally."

A cold resolve settled over Lenny as she absorbed the information. 'A doctor, perhaps? If so, this goes deeper than I anticipated,' she thought grimly.

Before she could dwell further, the hurried footsteps of an officer disrupted her thoughts. "Capt., the lab results are in," he announced, handing her a thick file.

She took it, her fingers tightening slightly around the edges. "Finally," she muttered. 'Perhaps now we'll gain some clarity,' she thought, flipping the file open.

As she scanned the preliminary findings, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Interesting," she murmured under her breath. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together, but the full picture remained elusive.

Straightening, she turned to her team. "Prepare for a deeper investigation. Our killer isn't just any murderer. They're meticulous, skilled, and well-trained. This is far from over."

Her voice carried a calm determination, but inside, Lenny's mind was already racing ahead. Whoever had committed these atrocities had left just enough evidence to challenge her, and she intended to rise to that challenge.

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