The Corner booth(A Story Unfolds)

A small television screen flickered in the corner of ManGrill Restobar, casting a dim light across the warmly lit space. The aroma of sizzling meat and garlic, laced with a hint of sweetness and soy sauce, hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the grim images flashing across the screen. The sound of the meat hitting the hot metal, the rhythmic clang of the spatula, and the quiet hiss of steam created a strangely comforting symphony.

The news was on, the volume low but audible, the news anchor's voice a low hum in the background. Subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen:

"We interrupt this program for a developing story. Police are currently investigating the gruesome discovery of a body in an alleyway early this morning.

The victim has been identified as local resident, Thomas Ashton, a 34-year-old teacher.

The circumstances surrounding Mr. Ashton's death are… disturbing, to say the least. Authorities have described his injuries as 'severe' and are currently unable to determine the exact cause of death.

A spokesperson for the police department stated that they are 'not ruling anything out' at this time."

The subtitles continued as the camera cut to shaky, handheld footage of the alley, the scene blurred and pixelated. Even through the poor resolution, the chalk outline on the rain-slicked concrete and the dark, ominous stain were chillingly visible.

The image shifted to a close-up of a visibly shaken police officer. The subtitles relayed his strained words: "It's… it's the most disturbing thing I've seen in my twenty years on the force. We're not ruling anything out."

The news anchor's face returned to the screen, the subtitles continuing the story. "This tragic event has left residents of this normally quiet neighborhood on edge.

But there's more to this story than meets the eye. We've learned that Mr. Ashton was on his way to propose to his long-time partner, Lisa.

A night of celebration with friends turned into a nightmare, the ring he intended to give her still clutched in his hands.

This brutal act of violence has not only claimed a life but has also extinguished a love story before it could fully blossom."

Detective Inspector Davies sat in a corner booth, a nearly empty glass of soda in front of him.

Ranier, the restaurant owner, a wiry man with a perpetually worried expression, stood behind the counter, near the cash register and food preparation area.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. He nervously wiped down the counter with a cloth, his gaze fixed on the television screen. "Tsk," he muttered under his breath, disgusted by what he was witnessing.

Outside, the rain began to pick up, a low drumming against the windows.

"Another one," Ranier sighed, gesturing vaguely towards the television screen as he watched the subtitles. "This is the third one this month, isn't it?"

Davies nodded, swirling the remaining ice in his glass. "Yeah. And this one… this one's different. Even the guys at the force are spooked." He took a sip of his drink. "So, how's life treating you these days? Keeping busy?"

"Busy enough," Ranier replied. "Keeps me out of trouble. Though sometimes I miss… well, you know." He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.

"Yeah," Davies said. "I can imagine." He glanced back at the television screen as the news report continued, the anchor's voice a low murmur in the background.

Three this month… he thought. The first one was in an abandoned warehouse, the second near the docks… and now this. All different locations, all brutal… but is there a connection? "This one's… messy," he finally said, his voice low. "Real messy. And there's something… off about it. Something I can't quite put my finger on."

Ranier leaned back slightly against the counter, his eyes narrowing. He'd seen a lot in his years on the force, and he knew that look on Davies's face. It was the look of a man who'd seen something that had shaken him to his core.

"You think it's connected to the other two?" he asked.

Davies shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe it's just a coincidence. But… I can't shake the feeling that there's something more going on here."

The news report ended, replaced by a commercial. Ranier turned the television off, the silence in ManGrill Restobar suddenly heavy and oppressive, broken only by the increasing sound of the rain outside.

He looked at Davies, his expression serious.

"Whatever it is," he said, "it's not good."

Davies nodded, taking a long sip of his soda. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was a call from the precinct. He sighed.

"Duty calls," he muttered, answering the call. "Davies."

"Inspector," a voice crackled through the phone. "Just got some new information on the Ashton case. Forensics found something strange at the scene…"

Davies's brow furrowed as he listened intently. He picked up his glass of soda, now nearly empty, and his plate, where he'd made a decent dent in his fries and sandwich. He carried them over to the bus table, popping the last fry into his mouth.

"Looks like you're not quite finished with that," Ranier observed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Always so into it, Davies. That Ashton case got you hooked?"

Davies shrugged, a wry smile touching his lips. "Wouldn't be my job if I wasn't." He paused, listening to the update from the precinct. "Gotta go. They've got some new leads."

"Be careful, Davies," Ranier repeated, his expression serious. "Reminds me of that time… remember young lady Rio? Found her down the basement of an apartment building, just like Ashton. Mutilated. We identified the group behind it and even nabbed one of the members, but he never talked. It was definitely organ trafficking, though. The way they described it… the… the clinical precision… it gave me chills.

They were efficient, cold. Like they weren't dealing with people, but… parts. We got most of the story, but some pieces… they just didn't fit. The evidence… it pointed to something more than just greed.

These guys… they were high. Not just your average junkie high, either. This was something… different. Something that stripped away their humanity, left them capable of… of anything. The toxicology reports… they found traces of some experimental compound. Something that amplified aggression, suppressed empathy… turned them into devil. The one who never talked, well cracked his head open by repeatedly hitting it on a wall.

They weren't just criminals, Davies. They were… freaks..weapons. Programmed to kill, to harvest. And the worst part is… we never found out who was supplying the drugs,

who was pulling the strings. It's like they vanished into thin air."

"Davies," he said, a flicker of interest, and a hint of dread, in his eyes. "I remember vaguely. We'll see what this one turns up." He grabbed his coat from the back of the booth. "Thanks for the soda, Ranier. I'll catch you

later."

He headed towards the door of MangGrill Restobar. As he reached the door, another officer, Detective Alex, entered. Alex, from a different team, nodded to Davies and Ranier.

"Hey Davies," Alex greeted, heading towards the counter. "Ranier, the usual, please. Soda and fries."

"Hey Alex," Davies replied, pausing briefly. "Busy day?"

"Always," Alex chuckled. He glanced at Davies. "Remember your boy from that scuffle last year? Whose sister is… well, you know."

Davies frowned, trying to recall. "Was it Ethan, Eddie, or Edward, perhaps?" he muttered, more to himself than Alex. "Oh, yeah… the one you kept bugging me about. I think… timid guy, if my memory serves me right."

"Yeah, it's Ethan," Alex confirmed. "Guess you really forgot about him," Alex said,

shaking his head slightly. "You're so loaded, I think you need a break after this case you have right now. By the way, I have him this time around." Alex gestured vaguely, indicating another case. "You'll see

details on the news later, you'll see. You're in a hurry, I know. Well, you always are. Take care."

"Right," Davies said, a flicker of something – curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of annoyance – crossing his face. He opened the door of ManGrill Restobar and stepped out into the rainy afternoon.

The rain had intensified, a downpour now, the heavy drops mirroring the weight of the case pressing down on him. He walked towards his car, the images from the alley flashing through his mind. Torn flesh, scattered innards, and a broken skull – all bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. The feeling of unease.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was dealing with something far beyond his understanding, something that was lurking just beneath the surface of reality. He reached his car, opened the door, and slid inside. As he started the engine, he glanced back at ManGrill Restobar. Ranier was watching him from the window, his expression grim.

Davies knew that whatever was coming, it was going to be dark.