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Blue Blood Murderer
It’s the middle of winter in Detroit, Michigan. The streets are covered with the fresh, powdered snow that’s still falling. The wind howls so hard, it nearly knocks him over. His lungs are filled with the crisp, winter air. A police officer named John has a story more bone chilling than the weather in the Great Lake State.
“Bye hun, have a good day. I love you,” John says to his wife while leaving for work.
John isn’t too thrilled about where he works. Crammed in a musky, old, broken-down office full of police officers and detectives surrounded by thick smoke filled air from the cigarettes isn’t necessarily the dream working environment.
“I’m assigned to a new case?’’ he asks his boss.
“Yes,’’ he snaps back. “ The Blue Blood Murderer” is the name of your new case.
John opens up the folder of his new assignment and quickly learns he had to catch a guy that murdered fellow police officers from different cities and states all over the country. It turns out Michigan is next on his list.
“I’ll start this right away, sir,” John replies and returns back to his desk.
Six feet tall, male, black hair, brown eyes, dirty fingernails, scar above eyebrow, scruffy beard. He keeps repeating in his head over and over until it is memorized.
“I’m not used to these types of cases,” John mentions to his boss. “I handle thieves and drug dealers. Not killers.”
“You’re the best guy we have for this case. If you can’t handle this job then I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go,” John’s boss says with guilt.
“Fine. I’ll go home and look it over” John hisses.
John stays up late that night reading about some of the murders that the Blue Blood Murderer has committed. All of them police officers. Each murder committed a different way and each one in a different state. He doesn’t go to the same state twice.
I’m not sure about this. I have a family to feed. If I don’t do this, though, I’ll be out of a job.
It was a restless night for John so he decides to go for a stroll to clear his head. He ends up at a local bar.
Flustered, John sits down. “Can I get two shots of scotch, please?” he asks the bartender while sitting at the bar.
“Rough night?” asks the person sitting next to him.
“You have no idea,” replies John.
“Let me buy you a drink and we can talk it over if you’d like,” offers the man.
“Sure.”
The man buys John three beers while he listens to John’s problems. The man is very understanding and gives him advice on what he should do.
“I’ll bring you home so you can arrive there safely.”
“Okay. Thank you,” John whispers.
John falls asleep in the man’s car. When he wakes up, he realizes he isn’t anywhere near his home, or society for that matter.
“Where are we?” asks John.
“We’re in a field, John. I come up here to think and enjoy the scenery. I figured you’d want to see it,” the man murmurs.
“Well, I’m uninterested so could you bring me home?” John hisses.
John starts to head towards the car when he turns to see the man. The light from the headlights helps John see him. It is him, the Blue Blood murderer, staring at John. He fits the description: the scar above the eyebrow, the dark hair, and of course, the brown eyes.
“Those aren’t just brown eyes,” John thought. “They’re the eyes of a killer.”
Both men stare at each other. John looks into the eyes of the killer he needs to catch. He can see his reflection in the other’s eyes. They aren’t just brown eyes; they have an orange glow to them and John knows he is on a mission.
“Please don’t do this. I have a wife and kids,” John cries out.
“Oh John, can’t you see? I have my own reputation to maintain,” the killer explains.
“Do you not feel anything when you commit the crimes you do?”
“I’m numb to everything, John. This doesn’t phase me.”
“Help!” John yells.
“No one can hear you up here. It’s useless.”
John then takes action and attacks the murderer. They both end up on the ground, fighting it out.
“BANG!”
John does it. He finally catches his killer and did what he had to do. He contacts his co workers who arrive at the scene. It is the last scene John will be at before he leaves his position as a police officer, never to set foot in that old, smoke-filled office again.
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