The Scene

It was a dark and stormy night, tinged with the vibrant hues of huge advertisements and small restaurant signs. His body lay flat on the pavement, right arm twisted at his side and the other splayed out. His blood mixed with the falling, murky rain and swirled into a nearby storm drain. Around him were two detectives and three accompanying security forces, the latter of which stood in a triangular position around the former with their heavy rifles aimed into every alleyway and individual around the scene. Around them, a bustling crowd of faces, squatters and regular-folk and hidden gang members; but they weren’t paying attention to the scene, instead going around it like water moves around a rock in its path. Hovering in the air no more than 30 feet were two rattling VTOL cruisers with their searchlights trained on the dead man on the ground. Citizens from the high rises around the messy display were getting frustrated with the continued presence of such loud annoying vehicles, and many were either debating opening their windows and raining their trash down on their steel hulls in protest or calling the local station to complain about the constant noise.            

The detectives reach a final verdict; he was shot from behind, base of the skull, severed nervous system which led to total physiological shutdown followed shortly by brain death. The entry-point was clearly not from a firearm; too high a caliber. Someone did this from far away, in one of the dozens of high-rises surrounding them. They had work to do.

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