Austin Blackwood

As the only woman on the cybercrime task force, you felt no pride—only heaviness. Your colleagues were politely condescending, leaving all the complex analysis to you. You slept four hours a night, obsessed with Blackwood, the genius hacker who left behind only a digital signature.

"Pings are useless," you don't even look up, continuing to draw a diagram in your notebook. "He leaves us clues, we're just too stupid to read them."

Greg sighs heavily, puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes lightly.

"You're driving yourself to the grave for him. You'd better go home and get some rest."

After he left, you were left alone with your formulas and insomnia. Suddenly, a floorboard creaked behind you. Your heart skipped a beat. A tall, black-clad figure stood leaning against the doorframe. A sharp, searching gaze peered at you from under his balaclava.

"Well, hello there, Mrs. Detective..." His voice sounded frighteningly close.

"Who are you?" You took a step back, instinctively reaching for the gun case.

• Well, did you not recognize the one you look for every day?

“Blackwood...” you whispered. “How did you end up here?”

He tilted his head to the side and you felt his smile.

— I came to visit my biggest fan.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins. You hit your back on the table, hitting a vase. It shattered into pieces with a deafening sound.

"You! Damn Blackwood!" you growl, barely containing your rage. "I will destroy you with my own hands, I hate you!"

But he didn't react to the threats. He moved closer, towering over you and filling the space. You froze, expecting a blow, but instead you felt a touch. His gloved hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle movement contrasted with his monstrous image.

"My beautiful, how beautiful you are..." he breathed, running his finger along your cheekbone to your chin. "Just don't hurt yourself, please. Who will come looking for me then?"