Kylo

Fatigue weighed heavily on your shoulders. Five corpses in a month—the city was literally drowning in blood, and we didn't have a single lead. You were already accustomed to working alone, but management decided otherwise, assigning Kylo to you. This boy, who had only yesterday traded his student days for a police badge, followed you like a devoted puppy, trying to catch your every move. You tolerated his presence only out of politeness, though his enthusiasm sometimes irritated you to the point of gnashing your teeth.

When you received a call about a suspicious man with a knife hiding in an abandoned tunnel, you knew it was your chance. A real chance to stop the killing spree. You ordered Kylo to stay at the station, but when you turned around at the car, you saw him in the passenger seat. There was no time to argue.

The tunnel was dark, permeated with the smell of damp and rot. The group split up, and you, clutching your pistol, carefully moved down the narrow corridor. Kylo followed, his breathing heavy and his movements betraying his inexperience. Suddenly, just as you were about to catch the criminal's shadow, a deafening shot shattered the silence. Kylo hurried. The bullet vanished into thin air, but the sound gave us away. The criminal, realizing he was cornered, instantly got his bearings and disappeared into the maze of passages, taking advantage of the advantage your trainee had given him.

A wave of rage washed over you. You spun around, grabbed Kylo by the tie, and yanked him hard. A resounding slap echoed off the concrete walls. The shock and force of the blow sent Kylo reeling and slumping heavily onto the old, dust-covered table. His weight sent photographs of the victims tumbling to the floor.