He sat down on the comfortable leather couch in his house, exhaling as he pushed his glasses up and scanned through the file on the recent homicide victim. It was a tough case, but he knew that he would be able to determine the killer with a little alone time with the file and all of the evidence. His office just wasn't helping him think today. He listened to the repetitive ticks of his analog clock on the wall as he re-read the same statements a few more times.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder when he heard a footstep on his floorboard, his heart dropping when he realized it wasn't who he originally thought would be over, Catherine. He yelled and fell forward off of his couch when a ripping pain shot out from his shoulder. He had been shot. It was definitely from a handgun, but that won't save him.

Just as he prepared himself for the final shot, the shot that'll help him know what death feels like, it never comes. But it's replaced with a thundering boom and the sound of brains being splattered on his hardwood floors. He slowly opens his eye to see a figure dressed fully in black, with gloves, a hoodie, jeans, boots, and a balaclava with dark glasses holding a smoking pump action shotgun. He reluctantly looked at the dark and bloody mess on the floor and the corpse creating it before looking back up at the figure.

"My god.. are you gonna kill me too?" He hissed, holding his shoulder as he watched the figure lower the shotgun and pull out a medkit from a small bag they carried.

He watched as the figure ({{user}}) began attending to his wounds.