Mistaken as an Artist-part 2

Fitta River Bridge — Second Crime Scene

They arrived just after sunrise. The bridge loomed over the Fitta River, its metal frame rusted and slick with fog. Beneath it, a body hung from the underside — swaying slightly as the wind rolled across the water. The rope was tied tightly around his stomach, leaving faint burn marks on the skin. Each slow movement made the rope creak, echoing against the bridge walls. The faint scent of iron mixed with river water filled the air.

“He’s a worker from the same museum,” Zoro said, scanning the ID tag still clipped to the victim’s shirt.

“Is this a piece of art too?” Lihar asked, glancing at Sirius.

“I don’t know,” Sirius rubbed the side of his head, his voice low. “I’m going to Raz. There isn’t anything here for me.”

“I’ll come,” Lihar said, following.

Sirius paused for a moment, stepping closer to the body. The man’s skin was cold and pale, his t-shirt loose and damp from the mist. The deep purple marks around his neck stood out against the bluish tone of his skin.

“Suffocation,” he muttered, touching his neck lightly through a pair of gloves.

Forensic Department

“Raz, is the cause of death confirmed?” Sirius asked as he entered.

“Right on time,” Raz replied. “Suffocation. His neck was crushed by hands. All the other injuries were made after death — none were fatal.”

Lihar and Sirius spoke at the same time, their eyes meeting as the truth settled in like a chill.

“A serial killer.”

“You shouldn’t speak on assumptions,” a voice said from behind them.

Even before turning around, Sirius recognized it. Kareef — his father.

“Father! A blessing to my eyes but a pain to my career! What are you doing here?” Sirius exclaimed.

“Nothing,” Kareef replied casually, stepping into the room. “I was having lunch with Raz today.”

“Something I should know about?” Lihar teased, a wide smirk spreading across his face.

“Nothing peaceful,” Sirius sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’ll let you know once we catch the serial artist.”

“The chandelier one?” Kareef asked, taking a seat.

Lihar and Sirius both nodded.

“The display was artistic, sure,” Kareef said slowly, “but the meaning?”

“The meaning is… mockery?” Sirius guessed.

“And that’s exactly why you’re not a poet,” Kareef replied dryly.

Sirius groaned. “I know, the display was a metaphor.”

“Since when do artists have their majors in metaphors?” Kareef countered, trying to guide him toward the point.

Sirius froze for a moment — flashes of the man hanging from the chandelier, then faces of everyone at the university flickered through his mind until one image made him stop. He sank to his knees, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“What the eye can see is not what it can withhold.”

Kareef smiled faintly. “You caught up.”

They went two floors down — to their base, the dim level where all case work came together. Files stacked high, the faint buzz of old lights above them.

Moments later, Zoro and Kyrokuto arrived, having just sent the second body to the forensic department.

“He’s no longer to be found,” Zoro said flatly, removing his gloves referring to the culprit as they realised who he is. 

“I expected that,” Sirius replied, leaning back against the table. “We just need to arrive before he commits a third one.”

“How are you so sure it’s the same man?” Lihar asked.

“I was right,” Sirius murmured, eyes lowering to the file photos spread across the table. “It’s mockery.” He gestured slightly, voice steady but dark. “He hung the man on the chandelier to make a point. All that beauty — the glass, the gold, the shine — but no life inside. Just like the people who admire it.”

He paused, tracing a slow circle in the air withhis finger.

“And the blood… it’s guilt. His own. No matter how perfect he makes the art, he can’t stop it from bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” Zoro asked, pen trembling slightly between his fingers.

Sirius’s gaze lingered on the photograph of the chandelier.

“You can hide guilt,” he said softly. “Cover it with glass, gold — anything that shines bright enough to distract the world. But guilt finds its way through. It leaks — through silence, through art, through blood. Even if he meant to make beauty… it bleeds truth in the end.”

Crime Scene – Third Attempt 

Abandoned District, 1:48 a.m.

Two places. Two possibilitie.Kyrokuto and Lihar went to the photography studio.

Sirius and Zoro took the other — a warehouse filled with mirrors, broken glass, and shadows that moved before you even noticed.

Rain tapped against the roof. A faint smell of metal and dust.

“Why do I always end up in creepy places?” Zoro moaned.

“You’re popular among ghosts,” Sirius quipped, smirking.“Let’s split up. Look for clues,” Sirius said — the typical line.

Zoro went down the main hall. Mirrors on either side. Props scattered everywhere.

Sirius moved toward the back corridor, flashlight cutting through darkness.

A sudden clink. A whisper of movement.

Before Zoro could react — a heavy blow to the back of his head. Darkness. He hit the wet floor. Dragged. Thrown outside.

Sirius heard it and froze. He didn’t move. He could feel the presence.

A mirror stood in front of him. A shadow behind him.

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear, he thought.

A slam came toward his head — he bent down just in time.

That’s when a thin cloud of gas sprayed the air — chloroform.

Everything went black.

After an Hour

“Zoro??”

Zoro’s eyes fluttered open. His head throbbed.

“Lihar?”

“Llah ykhalik!” Lihar said in Moroccan, relief flooding his voice. He always said it whenever something went wrong — a little habit of his, a small prayer whispered in tense moments.

“I cannot find Sirius,” Kyrokuto said, frustration in his voice. He had searched the entire warehouse.

Lihar’s eyes narrowed. Action. Guilt. Reflection. Consequence. But the innocent pay the consequence. Sirius is innocent.

“Kyrokuto, how long from here to the main Fitta Theatre?”

"An hour,” he replied, voice steady.

“We’re not gonna make it!” Desperation crept in, rising like fire in Lihar’s chest.

His heart raced, each beat hammering in his chest. Tension ran through his body like wildfire, consuming him entirely, until it felt as if he had been swallowed whole.

“But I know who will,” Kyrokuto said, patting his head. His confidence? Barely a grain of salt.

Fitta Theatre Centre

Sirius opened his eyes,his hands and feet were tied while he was put on a chair.

“The sleeping beauty is awake,” a voice taunted.

The man removed his mask — and to Sirius’s guess…

“Parselly,” Sirius said, jaw tight.

“You forgot the professor part,” Parselly replied, amusement in his tone.

“What do you want?” Sirius’s eyes glared, sharp as a marble shot.

“You’re smart enough to figure it out,” Parselly said. “But I am a little disappointed. I thought you’d guess sooner.”

“I did,” Sirius said. “‘Pain hangs above waters one cannot imagine’ — it linked to the river one.”

Parselly’s smile faltered slightly. “Clever. But this… this is my last. Consequence. Finishing my metaphorical piece.”

Parselly started slipping on black gloves, cracking his knuckles with a sharp snap.

“Unlike others, I’m smart enough to keep an eye on you, little sheep.”

“Oh nooo,” Sirius said, smirking. “The big bad wolf is gonna eat me. But guess what?”

“What?” Parselly asked, playing along with his fav—or should I say, potential—victim.

“I’m the big bad wolf!” Sirius shouted. He had already untied his hands.He got up and threw a sharp punch at Parselly’s face.

Parselly bent backward, but Sirius forgot to untie his legs.

Sirius fell on his stomach. Parselly sat on him, wrapping an arm tightly around his neck, trying to suffocate him.

“Looks like the big bad wolf is about to become a dead wolf,” Parselly hissed.

Sirius was clearly at a disadvantage — an 85 kg man pressing down on him, leaving him barely any room to move.

He tried to hit Parselly with his hand, but he couldn’t reach him. His eyes started watering, the choke cutting off his air — for a moment, he thought it was the end.

Until , gunshot rang out, striking Parselly’s left arm. He yelped and fell off Sirius.

Sirius gasped, still choking, struggling to breathe.

He looked up — and froze.

Kareef was there, gun in hand, with Dr. Raz right behind him.

“Man, such a show-off,” Raz muttered, eyes flicking to Parselly. “Just like your son.”

Kareef ran toward Sirius, checking him instantly.

“Father? What… am I dreaming?” Sirius croaked.

“Fortunately, no,” Kareef said, tense but focused.

Kareef’s eyes fell on Sirius’s neck. A faint purple hue had started to bloom around the constricted area, the skin slightly mottled — bruising already forming from the pressure.

After a while, Lihar, Zoro, and Kyrokuto arrived.

“Sirius?”

The whole gang ran toward him. Kyrokuto bent down and kissed his forehead.

In the background, Raz and Kareef had tied Parselly down.

“What??” Lihar exclaimed, eyes going wide as he took in Parselly’s battered condition — the stab in his leg, the swollen mouth from punches.

"Self-defense,” Dr. Raz said with a small, calm and cunning smile.

“Sirius… my brother, are you fine?” Lihar asked, worry cutting through his voice.

“Don’t pamper him too much, he’s fin—” Raz began, but just as he was about to finish, Sirius choked up blood, gagging from his mouth.

Parselly laughed from the background. “This was plan B.”