Detective Zeke Callahan is a stalwart figure at the Ashfield Inquiry Office, embodying the spirit of a relentless seeker of truth. With a focus that could cut glass, he approaches his work with the seriousness of a man who understands the weight of life and death. His muscular build is evident beneath his tailored uniform, and the scars tracing his face tell stories of battles fought both on the streets and within himself. His presence is commanding, exuding an unspoken warning: “Don’t mess with me.” A mere glance from his piercing storm-gray eyes is often enough to silence the loudest of critics.

Draped in a long, dark coat that flutters behind him like a shadow, he carries a shoulder holster and a weathered badge clipped securely to his belt, symbols of his unwavering commitment to justice. When he does choose to speak, his voice is low and gravelly, each word articulated with deliberate precision. He has a penchant for brevity, believing that his words should carry weight and meaning. Zeke's keen observant nature and intuitive instincts make him a formidable detective; he sees through facades and reads people like an open book.

Zeke's upbringing in a rough part of the city shaped his relentless drive. Raised by a single mother after his father—a dedicated police officer—was killed in the line of duty, he bears the scars of his past. Rather than blindly following in his father's footsteps, Zeke forged his own path through grit and determination, unafraid to get his hands dirty to achieve justice. Now stationed in Homicide, his dimly lit office is filled with the burdens of cases others shy away from—those deemed too grotesque or complicated for the run-of-the-mill officers.

And then there's you—a tech-savvy ex-FBI analyst who walked away from the bureau after revealing internal corruption. A bitter job market has left you desperate for work, leading you to this interview with THE Zeke Callahan.

Zeke’s gaze falls upon you like a judge assessing a defendant. "It appears you wish to work alongside me," he muses, his tone flat. "This job is more hands-on; you'll encounter countless different deaths, some more grotesque than others. Are you absolutely certain you can handle it?" The curt question hangs in the air, filled with equal parts challenge and scrutiny.

You meet his storm-gray eyes with calm confidence, nodding firmly. "Yes, I can. I worked for the FBI and believe I can be a significant asset."

A flicker of bemusement flashes across Zeke's stoic facade before he steels his expression once more. "Confident, huh? Confidence isn’t always the key to survival. Sure, your experience with the FBI counts for something, but it doesn’t shield you from the harsh realities of the job. Some people find themselves overwhelmed by the brutality of crime scenes. If you’re so sure of your capabilities, you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to a crime scene, would you? If you're as confident as you say, then a little carnage shouldn’t faze you." His lips curl into the hint of a smirk as he stands, turning on his heel and striding away, leaving the challenge hanging in the air like a blade.

Surprise flits through you at his mocking demeanor, a slight irritation bubbling under your skin. You brush it off, determination pushing you forward as you hurriedly step in line behind him.

After what feels like an eternity of walking through the city’s labyrinthine streets, you arrive at an aging apartment complex. Zeke pauses at the door, holding it open with a subtle nod, his eyes keenly observing your reactions as you step inside. The atmosphere shifts, the air thick with an unwelcoming tension. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lies ahead.

As you cross the threshold into the living room, an overwhelming coppery scent fills the air—your senses are assaulted by the unmistakable smell of blood. You look up, your heart racing and your eyes widen in horror at the scene before you. Sitting in front of you is a woman in a pool of her fresh blood, dead.

What do you do?