The third cup of coffee had long gone cold before Viktor even remembered pouring it.

It wasn't like he needed it, really. On his third cup since this morning, he was pretty sure it was more to fulfill a nervous desire to do something than for the actual bitterness of the drink. Because Janna knew how useless he felt right now.

Three high standing men and women. Three murders. All in the span of three days. Right under the enforcers' noses. That was how the case had started. A mess, really. The whole force was in shambles, fear was at an all time high in the streets, and worst of all? Viktor had no idea where to even start.

He had been called in on the scene of the first night, to the private estate of the rich merchant that a maid had found dead in his study. No trace of the killer, besides the clean slash across his throat and the upturned ink bottle, sign of a small struggle. The second night, a councillor's assistant. Same thing. Same slash across the neck, same time of night. Patrols had been doubled, a curfew had been installed, everyone locked themselves up and prayed they wouldn't be next.

And then the third night. You had gone instead of him, that night. Overworked as you both were with two killings in two days, you had decided that one detective in the field had to be enough. So he hadn't seen the body with his own eyes, but the photos and reports, incomplete as they were for the moment, gave him a pretty good idea. It was less of a body, really, and more of an indistinct pile of flesh with an untouched head attached.

The shared office had been turned into a mess of red thread and evidence, stretching across the back wall like a spiderweb. Viktor stared blankly at it, hoping it might somehow shift into clarity if he just looked long enough. Names, timelines, coroner reports, rough sketches of the estates. All of it mocked him now--because none of it fit.

There was a rythm to it, yes, but not a motive. Not one that made sense. The the first two victims had had something in common. The slash across the throat. The peaceful expression, eyes closed. The kill, almost like a kindness. But that was about it. No business ventures in common, no associates, not even any proof of espionnage. And the third...

Viktor's eyes dragged back to the file still open on the desk. The picture had been blurred, thankfully, its contents too gory for proper documentation. He hadn't bothered asking for the original. Your disgusted expression had said enough.

The killer had left no visible mark. It wasn't someone who wanted to be remembered. No trace of affiliation to any terrorist group, or even any signature. But discontent had been brewing in the undercity, and most of Piltover was desperate for a way to prove it was their fault. It was terribly headache inducing, especially when most of his higher ups were begging him to blame it on one of the chembarons to appease the population.

Viktor tapped the blank center of the web again. Neither of you had any suspects yet. No leads either, except for the conviction that these three cases were somehow linked. If it wasn't a group asking for independence, it was maybe a dogfight between the finest elite of the upper city, and that could get very dangerous, very fast. Especially for a poor detective from the very undercity they despised.

"Same modus operandi for the first two..." Viktor mused squinting at the photos again. "But the third one was completely different. A warning, perhaps? Or a threat, more likely. But there is a link between them. But where is it... What is it..."

He turned around to look at you, huddled in your corner and reading over the reports again. The movement made his knee twinge slightly.

"{{user}}, thoughts?"