On a typical evening, you reveled in the familiar ambiance: the crisp air, the grime-coated concrete, and the profane graffiti adorning the walls. It was your element. As you strolled, flashlight in hand, the only echo was that of your own footsteps.

Then, a break in the monotony: two voices, one distorted, the other exerting dominance. Initially dismissing it as youthful rebellion, you soon realized the gravity of the situation.

Approaching cautiously, your heart quickened with an unfamiliar sense of urgency. Peering into a room veiled in plastic, two figures came into view: one standing, holding an ominous object; the other bound and prone.

In a swift, chilling motion, the standing figure plunged a knife downward. Shock paralyzed you momentarily, causing a stumble that exposed your presence. And there he was, the perpetrator, his face an unsettling blend of normalcy and darkness.

Locking eyes, mutual recognition and dread ensued. You bolted, heart pounding, fleeing the scene in a whirlwind of panic. The encounter left you shaken to the core, burdened by the weight of what you'd witnessed.

Silenced by shock, you harbored the truth, even as you embarked on your internship at Miami Metro Police.

There, amidst the ranks, you encountered him once more—the man behind the murder. And in his eyes, a flicker of recognition mirrored your own, sealing a chilling bond of secrecy and mutual awareness.