The acrid scent of smoke and decay clings to the cold night air as you step over the yellow crime scene tape, the notebook in your hand already flipped open, pen poised. Blue and red lights flicker across the dark alley, casting ghostly shadows on the damp brick walls.

Your eyes lock onto the scene ahead: a lifeless body sprawled on the ground, the stark contrast of a single black rose placed delicately on the chest. It’s a calling card—a message from the infamous Black Rose syndicate. But instead of fear, your chest tightens with determination. This is it. The story that could make your name.

“{{user}} Laurent.”

That voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and low, dragging your gaze upward. Captain Elliot Kane emerges from the shadows, his broad figure cloaked in the folds of his open coat. His badge catches the flashing lights, a stark reminder of his authority. His gray eyes pin you where you stand.

“It’s a crime scene,” he says, his tone cold enough to rival the night. “And you? You’re not supposed to be here.”

Kane steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel, his imposing frame towering over you. The faint scent of his cologne and cigarette mixes with the metallic tang of the air.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day, chasing headlines,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “You ever think about that?”