Elid:

Born in a rich home, with rich neighborhoods, gardens, and pets, I grew up with the most precious parents I ever saw in my life, loving me dearly in my heart, wanting me to be like them, a financier and marketer of cigars and beer. I never liked the Aleut world once I grew up as a teenager; all my childhood was work. Work, work, work; I cannot take it. Watching the kids outside the neighborhood playing seesaw, hide-and-seek, and running around. If I ask my part about running around the neighborhood, they tell me, "Start acting like a child; it will disappear. "I mean it; you will feel more focused on work than playing around the garden, my sweet pea. Life is not about having fun. Money is too tight, and the future will be much rougher if you stop slacking off." "If you

I feel so manipulated listening to my parents, like childhood is not the right way in life. I learn nothing besides from homeschooling. I am a teenager now. I am writing this in my journal: my life is just a new story, a lot of rewrites, but no ending.

NO ENDING.

At home, it was me and my maids, working, working, working.

A new family moved in and saw the outside Eolian house, beautiful architecture, 1800s-style home, white buildings, chalk walls, and blue and purple ceilings, roofs, and windows. They love it so much, but since their house was not ready to prepare to move, the construction was still building only the roof. They decided to stay at my house for now.

A handsome blond husband, a beautiful blonde lady, and two children: one is a girl with long fluffy hair and pearl eyes, and the other is a boy with girly eyes and rosy lips. His name is Carmine.

Carmine:

That lavender girl, purple like lust, she is staring at me like I am an angel; she asked her mother about us living with them for a while after the house is ready to be set. I see the hallway, the paintings, the flowers, and the rugs; it smells like a garden itself, with the fresh air, the fresh floors, and the fresh people. I am in love with it, and this girl, who is named Slid, holds my hand, telling me, "Let's go around; I want to have someone sleep with me."

A quick love, but she is a girl, and I am a boy. I think girls are way more judgmental than men. I love guys; I love her, but if only she were a boy.

Elid:

A couple years later, adult! Life, the worst time ever; I changed my gender over the man I love. Now, as we fall in love, he still feels shy around me. I am different now, and being the man is something he loves, but something is missing rather than a man. What is it?

My personality?

He came closer to me at the park with cups of water, looking at me with a smile. As he kissed my cheeks, I blushed. LOVE IS IN THE AIR, I thought.

I know my parents never liked that, and my love is such. Heart to Carmine before his last airdrop

I know my parents never liked the idea of a transgender person. I left home to live with Carmine, but as time flew by in Atlantic City, he tragically died from drowning. I know he cannot swim, and my love is such that he cannot swim. heart to me. I was at the beach and wanted to swim, but then seaweed tangled his legs, and gasping for air, I used it, but the lifeguards pushed me back and saved Carmine before his last breath. "It cannot be," I gasped.

Carmine:

I am a ghost now, but Elid still loves me. From the love from our said childhood, I wanted to be a girl, but my parents said gender does not matter in the adult world; personality does. I agreed and stayed the way I am. And now, living with her in our police life is all about

"NOW BACK TO THE STORY! NO PERSPECTIVE! THIS IS NOT A ROMANCE STORY! ELID AND CARMINE! MOVE!" Hathen shouted at the top of his lungs at Elid and Carmine together in the park with tea sets and biscuits on the picnic carpet.

Hathen and Rockin are up to no good, as they are finding the missing cat for some old lady who looks like Donald Trump.

"Ugly ass bitch, that fat cat can be somewhere." Hatten searches around until a huge fart pushes gas at Hatten in the bushes. Gagging, Hathen clears the ashes, seeing the fat brown cat that looks like fecal matter, eating fish and vomiting on how this fish tastes like Chum Bucket.

GROSS!!!

Hathen cannot touch the cat; it stinks like trash. Rockin came to Hathen and saw this creature looking like it is about to take a shit.

This is too gross, Hathen thought as he picked up the cat, but vomit hits the cat from Hathen. This has gone too wrong. Rockin is looking at this mess, and smelling this cat makes him also vomit.

After five hours of vomiting, the cat is saved, and Hathen and Rockin are still up to no good, resulting in the smell still being with them, with no food in their bellies in the future, along with not going outside, and they cannot take a shit for that long, even though their stomachs cannot handle poop and hunger.

In their rooms, they are sleeping but still have nightmares, not like in their previous murder cases. Oxin and Uvital are seeing what a mess of a fool they are and have closed the doors as Carmine and Elid are deciding what to eat for tonight.

"How about Italian food?" Carmine asked.

"I like sandwiches," Elid smiled.

The love between Elid and Carmine makes Oxin smile with joy inside, where love is the poison and cure to a human being. Both Carmine and Elid are humans.

Entering the club sandwich restaurant, where the seats are full and everyone is enjoying the food, until they hear the ring of the door, Elid shows up with Carmine; one is a transgender, and the other is just a boy who loves being a girl. The crowd stares at Elid, who is a well-known rich person who became transgender.

Elid and Carmine sat down in the waiting room. Elid looked frightened as Carmine held her hand. "Things will be true," he whispered to Elid. Elid looked into Carmine and smiled, as this date would be the best for them. After thirty minutes, they got their two-top seat and ordered some sandwiches and soda. Carmine started his conversation about books. 

"So, One Hundred Years of Solitude? "Bold choice," Carmine chuckled, stirring his soda. "I'm more of a classic sci-fi person. Think Ursula K. Le Guin."

Elid's smile was a soft curve. "Ah, a world-builder! But Marquez... the magic, the generations, the sheer storytelling." They leaned forward, a strand of dark hair falling over their brow. "It makes you believe in impossible things."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, a comfortable current carrying them from literary analysis to shared dreams, the outside world fading into a pleasant blur. Then, a shadow fell over their table. It rings the bell; the customers stare at the man. A man, beefy and reeking of stale cigarettes, loomed, his eyes cold and filled with a venom Carmine instantly recognized as hatred. The crowd began to scream, "SERIAL KILLER!"

"Well, well," he sneered, his gaze fixed on Elid. "Look what we have here. You think you belong in places like this, freak?"

Elid flinched, their vibrant energy instantly dimming, a familiar fear clouding their features. Carmine's hand instinctively reached across the table, covering Elid's, squeezing gently. "Leave us alone," Carmine said, their voice steady despite the sudden spike of adrenaline.

The man merely laughed, a guttural sound that grated. "Not a chance." Before Carmine could react further, he lunged, a large hand clamped over Elid's mouth, dragging them from their seat with terrifying speed. Elid struggled, a muffled cry escaping, their eyes wide with terror as they were yanked towards the cafe's back exit.

"Elid!" Carmine roared, leaping to their feet and knocking over their chair. Adrenaline surged, bypassing fear. This was not a moment for logic but for pure, unadulterated protection. The man was burly, but Carmine's heart needed action!

He was pushing Elid through the back door into the narrow alleyway when Carmine reached them. The alley was dark, smelling of refuse. The assailant turned, a glint of something metallic in his hand. But Carmine was faster. A swift kick to the knee buckled the man, and as he stumbled, Carmine landed a precise, powerful strike to his temple. The metallic object clattered to the ground: a rusty knife. The man collapsed, a sickening thud echoing in the confined space. He didn't move.

Carmine's breath hitched, their chest heaving. They didn't check for a pulse. All that mattered was Elid.

Elid was pressed against the grimy wall, trembling, tears streaming down their face. Carmine rushed to them, pulling them into a tight embrace. "Oh, Elid," Carmine whispered, stroking their hair, feeling the shuddering of their shoulders. "You're safe. You're safe now."

Elid clung to them, burying their face in Carmine's shoulder. The world narrowed to the warmth of Elid's body and the rapid beat of their heart against Carmine's own. When Elid finally pulled back, their eyes were still wet, but a fragile hope flickered within them.

Carmine cupped Elid's face gently, their thumb wiping away a tear. The danger had passed, leaving behind a raw, undeniable truth. Leaning in, Carmine kissed Elid, softly at first, then with a deep, unwavering tenderness, a promise of safety, and a silent declaration that Elid was beautiful, worthy, and loved. And in that kiss, surrounded by the shadows of the alley, a powerful, fierce love was truly born.

Gorham and Dola stared at this mess, and as Dorham said, "My story is completed."

Dola noticed something wrong with Carmien and Elid as she came to the destructive place where the man whispered, "Criminals, you killed my wife and kids; kidnapping you is the way of my revenge."

Dola's ears were close to the man's whispering about how "Elid" killed his wife and kids.

The late afternoon sun, a bruised orange, bled through the grimy window of the old factory. Lied Liar, a man whose name echoed his bitter reality, stood hunched over a sputtering machine, the rhythmic clank and whir a cruel soundtrack to his simmering rage. His shoulders, thick and calloused from years of manual labor, trembled not from exertion, but from a deeper tremor within. Underpaid. The word festered in his mind like a gangrenous wound. Not just underpaid, but systematically, deliberately cheated.

It wasn't her fault, he knew that. Clara, the factory owner's wife, who occasionally brought her two bright-eyed children to visit, was a kind, albeit oblivious, woman. The fault lay with the manager, a portly man whose condescending smirk was as ingrained in Lied's memory as the smell of stale oil. But the manager was untouchable, protected by his wealth and position. Clara, though... Clara represented the comfortable indifference that allowed men like the manager to thrive.

The silence of the evening was a stark contrast to the factory's din. Lied stood across the street from Clara's elegant home, a silhouette against the fading twilight. The house was a beacon of warmth and light, a stark reminder of the life he was denied. His hand, beefy and calloused, tightened around the grip of the specialized air rifle he'd meticulously crafted—a whisper of death, designed for precise, silent execution.

He waited. The children, a boy and a girl, were laughing, their voices carrying on the still air. Clara, a blur of movement, was preparing dinner. A knot of cold resolve tightened in Lied's stomach. Justice, he rationalized, had a price. And tonight, the price would be paid in the most devastating currency.

One by one, they appeared in the large bay window of the living room, silhouetted against the lamplight within. First the boy, then the girl, their innocent faces etched in the warm glow. Lied raised the rifle. Thwip. Thwip. The barely audible exhalations of compressed air were swallowed by the vast silence of the night. Each shot was precise, aimed at the center of their small chests, ensuring a swift and sudden fall. The sickening thuds against the ground below were muffled by the well-manicured lawn.

Clara appeared next, her face contorted in a scream that never fully escaped her lips. Her fall was less graceful, a flailing descent that ended with a sickening crunch. The gun lowered. The silence that followed was absolute, punctuated only by the distant chirping of crickets.

Under the cloak of darkness, Lied Liar moved, a phantom in the night. The shallow graves he dug in the nearby woods were crude and functional. He covered the bodies, not with reverence, but with a cold, almost detached efficiency. He knew the vultures would come. He wanted them to. Let nature reclaim what he had so cruelly taken. Let the world see the consequences of an unpaid debt, even if only in the silent, scavenged bones left behind. He left as he came, a shadow in the night, the factory's silent hum now a distant echo of his dark justice.

The man gasped his last breath, dying on the ground until Oxin and Uvital came over to the crime scene. The man is dead. Dola got the notes as she whispered, "My evidence is complete," writing in her notebook down to the story. Something flashed in her eyes, the white light—another clue down. She thought of yes.

Oxin sees Carmine and Elid kissing, wanting to ask them, "Are you okay?"

Carmine and Elid are distracted by each other. Oxin just ignores them and yells to Gorham and Dola to get rid of the body, as Elid and Carmine are shocked that Oxin is here, looking at this, staring at the alien like he just popped out of nowhere.