My, my, my. What's with that blue flame on the fourth floor?

I stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots ricocheting through the silent night. The air was thick with the scent of smoke—and something more baleful.

I entered the abandoned hospital, the once sterile halls now ghostly and decrepit.

My eyes landed on a man's lifeless body, splayed out beside a charred mannequin.

This man, once a formidable killer, now lay broken and burnt... a testament to her wrath.

I glanced up at the flickering blue flames on the fourth floor, then turned my gaze to the three men standing resolutely to my left.

"Check that blue flame. Make sure your blue lights are on," I commanded, my voice a low growl that brooked no dissent.

I knew the nature of blue flames. They came from methanol—and were invisible in daylight. If that treacherous flame touched anything flammable, it would spread like a voracious beast, consuming everything in its path. Twice as deadly as regular fires, it was a silent, unseen predator.

I moved through the desolate corridors, my eyes catching a thick rope tethered to a pillar—its surface riddled with bullet holes. This rope had hidden the strings connected to the burnt mannequin... the very trap that ensnared the killer. That unfortunate man, with a skull shattered beyond recognition.

A dark chuckle escaped my lips as I imagined the scene.

My Luna, in her fury, had shot him three times. But it wasn't enough.

She had stomped on his head—a final, brutal act of defiance.

She truly is a magnificent artist of crime. Her anger, a masterpiece of violence.

My men returned, their faces grave.

"Sir, there's a man's body in the 25th room of the fourth floor. We can't get any closer—the fire is too dangerous and already consuming the adjacent rooms. We should evacuate the building soon, sir," one of them reported, his voice steady, filled with unwavering trust.

I nodded, signaling them to prepare for evacuation. The building would soon become a hellscape of flames.

As we moved, I suddenly halted—my gaze fixed on a small footprint beneath me.

Ah... my Luna's delicate footprints. So diminutive compared to mine.

The right print was smeared with blood.

I carefully covered it with sand. My men followed suit, erasing its presence or obscuring it with my larger prints.

The police must not trace her to this forsaken building.

The thought of toying with them brought a dark thrill to my heart.

Her footprints led to Harris's metal-selling company.

The memory of the Shayen Mass Murder flitted through my mind... a macabre ballet, where she had dispatched hundreds of policemen who dared to unmask her true identity to the public. The thought always sent a shiver of admiration through me.

Fascinating.

I possessed a copy of that single document—of her real identity. A testament to her lethal efficiency. A truth that had cost a hundred policemen their lives.

After scouring the hospital, I returned to the car with my men. We drove toward Harris's metal-selling company, the anticipation a tangible force within the vehicle.

I scoffed, the corners of my mouth curling into a sinister smile.

The tension was escalating—and knowing my beloved Luna was wounded only fueled my resolve.

Whoever dared to harm her... would soon face the wrath of a high-ranking Mafia leader. A retribution they could not fathom.

"Prepare," I commanded, my voice a steely whisper.

My men and I readied our weapons—Uzi SMGs. Their sleek, deadly forms gleamed in the dim light. Compact. Lightweight. Marvels of lethal engineering.

Tonight, we would unleash their deadly beauty.

A symphony of destruction that would echo through the city.

The night would belong to us.

And my newly formed enemies would tremble before our power.