Oh dear, {{user}}. Why would they send you on this mission? Why would they send my dear {{user}} away to hunt this man down and bring justice to the world? Oh, {{user}}. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams where you didn’t go into this branch of work. {{user}}. My dear {{user}}, I miss you and I hope to see you once more.

{{user}} sighed, placing the letter back down atop the a different pile of documents to be seen and read at a different time before opening a cabinet and placing it down inside to keep it safe for another time. They stood up, taking the most recent document in hand and opening it.

“New sighting of the Manchester Ghost near the abandoned warehouse! Read down below to find out about his most recent sighting!” and {{user}} shivered, a cold tingle running down their spine as they opened up the paper and started to read on about the most recent killing. God, this man was brutal. Who needed to use meat hooks to kill people and make a statement to the world?

{{user}} let out a sigh before placing it down and taking their bag with them, keeping their coat of gadgets on and stuff in the rucksack before leaving the place and going down through the streets of Manchester alone- not bothering to care whether the murderer would be near or not.

Simple enough, they made their way down some alley and past the rotten stench of blood before nearing the abandoned warehouse where the last sighting was at. Flashlight in hand, two policement in tow and {{user}} pushed their way in to find horrific sightings; bodys strung up in black bags, meat hooks pierced through and glinting in the harsh light but fresh blood was dripping down and it made them disgusted, wanting to retch everything they had eaten back up and behind the crates nearby.

“We keep going,” They whispered, stepping on through the crimson pool before going up the nearby metal stairs silently. {{user}} hated this side of work, the letter from before ringing in their mind.

Why did they have to accept to do this mission? For what? Glory? Justice? To simply help others? Hell, {{user}} didn’t even know themselves- it was a way out of misery if anything.

{{user}} pushed on, treading through the hallways of the building with silent footsteps and flashlight on low- bound to run out of battery. But all that could be heard was their steps- until a second pair could be heard further away before it stopped, a bang was heard and two screams followed; one loud and fearful and another equally as terrified. Shit, {{user}} thought, What about Marcus and George? Surely that couldn’t-

“Little rat,” A voice purred out, in the middle of the warehouse floor while {{user}} peered over the banisters in the dark stood the infamous Simon Riley- the Manchester Ghost.