The Past – The Second Lesson
The body was already cold when young Damien dragged it to the pit.
He had wrapped it neatly—just like he'd seen on crime documentaries. Plastic tarp, industrial tape. But the weight surprised him. Death had a heaviness to it. Not just physical. Emotional, too.
Even if he wouldn't admit it.
Even if it thrilled him.
The man had been homeless, sleeping behind a butcher's shop for days. Damien had watched him, followed him. He'd even shared a sandwich once.
The kindness made the kill cleaner in Damien's head.
He wasn't a monster. Just… curious. And the man had been disposable. Society had already thrown him away.
This time, Damien didn't panic. No shaking hands. No vomiting. Just a checklist in his head.
Burn gloves. Bury clothes. Wipe down surfaces.
He buried the man deep, marking the earth with nothing but silence. When it was done, he looked at the stars. They felt closer now. Like they were watching.
Approving.
The Present – Cole's Mask Slips
The house was quiet when Damien returned.
He found Cole in the garage, leaning over the hood of the broken-down Mustang they'd never gotten around to fixing.
"Elliot's asleep," Cole said without looking up. "And before you ask—I didn't go out tonight."
"I didn't ask," Damien said carefully, stepping into the garage.
"Yeah," Cole muttered. "But you were going to."
Damien watched him. The anger in his son's voice was new. Usually, Cole was calm. Detached.
But something had changed.
"What's wrong?" Damien asked.
Cole straightened. His hands were greasy, his sleeves rolled. There was a cut on his jaw—thin but fresh.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" Cole said.
Damien's heart didn't skip. His face didn't twitch. But inside, everything went still.
"What do you mean?"
Cole took a step forward. "You talk to me like I'm a child. Like I don't see what's happening. All these questions. The way you look at me after each kill gets announced. You think I'm stupid?"
Damien met his son's eyes. "I think you're smart enough to know what happens when someone gets reckless."
Cole scoffed. "Right. Because you were never reckless, right? Just perfect. Always three steps ahead. How long until you turn me in?"
"I would never—"
"Don't lie to me."
The words cut deeper than they should have. Cole was trembling—not from fear, but fury.
"I learned from the best," Cole said. "Every move. Every method. You taught me this. You shaped me."
"I gave you structure," Damien replied. "Control. There's a difference."
Cole laughed—bitter, sharp. "You made me this. Don't try to fix what you broke."
He walked out, slamming the door behind him.
And for the first time in years, Damien felt unsure.
The Present – Jonas Has a Theory
Jonas stood at the whiteboard, the three victims' photos lined side-by-side.
They were posed differently.
But if you connected the positions—the angles of the hands, the direction of the blood spatters—it formed a symbol.
Not an obvious one. Not something anyone else would notice.
But Jonas had been chasing patterns his whole life. And this one was too intentional to ignore.
"What are you seeing?" Damien asked, walking into the precinct conference room.
Jonas stepped aside.
"It's a language," he said. "A personal one. Like code. You and I used to study killer signatures back when we were rookies, remember?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I think this one's not just leaving a message. I think he's copying someone."
Damien's breath caught, but he said nothing.
Jonas went on, "You ever hear of the Ravine Man?"
Damien's stomach turned.
"No," he lied.
"Unsolved case from fifteen years ago. Small town. Five bodies. All buried deep in the earth. No press coverage, no national headlines. Just whispers. But the way these bodies are staged now? The precision? I think our killer studied the Ravine Man. Maybe even knew him."
"Interesting theory."
Jonas looked up. "If I were a profiler—which I'm not—I'd say this guy had a mentor."
Damien forced a smile. "Maybe you should switch careers."
Jonas chuckled, but his eyes didn't move from Damien.
Not for a second.
The Past – Elliot's Silence
Elliot was eight when he found the basement unlocked.
He wandered down, barefoot, cradling a stuffed tiger.
It was cold and smelled strange. But it wasn't the tools or the plastic that caught his attention—it was the box of photos in the corner. Neatly stacked. Dated. Labeled.
Faces of men. Some sleeping. Some not.
And drawings.
Ritualistic. Diagrams of poses. Cuts. Angles.
He sat there for a long time, flipping through them.
Then, quietly, he put everything back the way it was. He climbed the stairs. Closed the door. And never said a word.
Not then. Not ever.
The Present – Elliot Draws
It was past midnight when Damien entered Elliot's room.
His younger son was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sketchbook in his lap, pencil flying fast and silent.
"What are you drawing?"
Elliot didn't look up. "A shadow."
Damien stepped closer. The sketch was... haunting. A dark figure in a hallway, long fingers curling into smoke. Behind it, smaller shadows stared with blank faces.
"What does it mean?" Damien asked.
"It means someone's watching," Elliot said.
Damien crouched beside him. "You feel watched?"
Elliot shrugged. "You all act like I'm invisible. But I see things. I hear things."
His eyes finally lifted to meet Damien's.
"I know what Cole is."
Damien swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"
"He thinks I don't know. But I'm not stupid. He comes home late. Smells like metal. Sometimes, there's blood under his nails. You never ask. You already know."
Elliot turned another page and drew again.
Damien watched in silence, unsure of what terrified him more—that Elliot knew about Cole...
Or that he might know more.
The Present – A New Victim
Jonas called just after 5 AM.
"Another body," he said. "This one's... different."
Damien arrived twenty minutes later.
The scene was lit by orange dawn and flashing lights.
The victim had been left in a playground. Tied to the monkey bars. Naked. Slashed across the stomach.
But what made this one different—was the message carved into the wood beside the corpse.
"I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET."
Jonas looked at Damien. "Guess he's tired of playing copycat."
Damien stared at the words.
Cole was speaking directly to him now.
The student was rebelling against the master.
And the game had changed.