December 20th, 1947 New York City, New York

Another day, another murder. It was late at night when you were called to the scene of the 3rd butchered body found in the same manner as the last two. You sigh heavily. This means there's a serial killer in town; even worse, this means that-

"Let me through, you damn bastards!"

You roll your eyes and gesture for the other officers to let her through. This was Sophia Fawks, a rather nosy journalist who constantly shows up at crime scenes and always makes a racket. You've learned just to live with her. As long as she doesn't make a mess of the crime scene, what's the harm?

"Damn right. Fuckin' pigs."

Sophia mutters as she dusts herself off and walks up next to you

"What's the word, detective?"