The Silence Of Room 𝟽
CHA:1: Reina Monroe
The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn. It painted the streets of chicago in a dull gray wash, neon lights flickering through puddles like dying stars
I stood under the hotel’s awning, letting the drizzle cling to my trench coat, eyes fixed on the glowing sign — grand miranda hotel
I pushed open the glass door, the familiar scent of cleaning chemicals and old carpet greeting me. The lobby was empty, except for two uniformed officers whispering near the front desk. As soon as they saw me, they straightened up
Edwin
Detective reina monroe
One of them said quickly, voice uncertain
Edwin
The room’s on the second floor. Same pattern as the others
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Did you touch anything?
I asked flatly, my eyes scanning the staircase
Edwin
No, ma’am. We followed protocol
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Good. Stay downstairs. No one goes in or out until i say so
My heels echoed as i climbed the stairs, the air getting colder with each step
The corridor light flickered
A thin strip of yellow tape blocked the door, but the metallic smell had already reached me. Blood. Fresh
I slipped on gloves and pushed the door open
I stared at the lifeless body sprawled across the king-sized bed in Room 7
It was November 1, 2022, and the chill in the air wasn't just from the autumn wind seeping through the cracked window—it was from the bone-deep frustration that had become my constant companion over the last five years
My name is Reina Monroe, and I'm the lead detective at Apex Investigations, a private agency that's cracked more cold cases than most police departments dare to admit
I've unraveled corporate espionage rings, exposed political scandals, and even brought down a human trafficking network that spanned three continents. My mind works like a finely tuned machine
Patterns emerge where others see chaos, clues whisper secrets in the silence
But this case—𝙍𝙤𝙤𝙢 7—it's my white whale, my personal hell
Eighty victims now, each one meticulously placed in a hotel room numbered 7, across cities from New York to Los Angeles, London to Tokyo. No fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses
Just a body, drained of blood or poisoned or strangled—always different methods, but always the same signature: the number "7" carved into the skin, painted on the wall, or etched into a nearby object
Today's victim was a middle-aged accountant named Elias Grant, found by the housekeeping staff during their afternoon rounds. He lay there in his rumpled suit, eyes wide open in perpetual surprise, a fresh "7" sliced into his left palm
The room smelled of stale coffee and faint metallic blood. I knelt beside the bed, my gloved hands hovering over the wound. Clean cut, post-mortem, like all the others. No struggle, no forced entry
The door's electronic lock showed only Grant's key card access last night at 10:47 PM. Security cameras in the hallway?
Conveniently glitched for exactly seven minutes around midnight—another pattern I'd noted in half a dozen other hotels
Asked Officer Ramirez from the Chicago PD, hovering by the door with his notepad
He knew me well; we'd crossed paths on three other Room 7 cases in this city alone
I shook my head, standing up slowly. My knees protested—too many late nights, too much coffee, not enough sleep
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Same as always. Killer's a ghost. No fibers, no hairs, no prints. Autopsy will probably show a rare toxin or some untraceable asphyxiation method. And that damn seven...
Ramirez
Eighty now. Media's calling it the 'Seven Sins Serial.' Public's panicking—hotels are installing extra cams, but it doesn't help
I glanced at the wall clock: 2:17 AM
Reina/FL ( Eina )
I've tried everything. Infiltrated hotel staff, hacked reservation systems, even posed as a guest in Room 7s across the country. Nothing. It's like the killer knows my moves before I make them
As the forensics team bagged evidence—or the lack thereof—I stepped out into the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing like angry bees in my skull
This case was driving me insane. Sleepless nights replaying victim profiles: no connections between them. Ages 20 to 65, various professions, ethnicities, genders
The only link was the room number and that infernal 7. Was it a cult? A lone wolf with a numerology obsession? Or something more sinister, like a hired assassin taunting the world?
By 4 Am, I was back in my rental car, heading to O'Hare Airport for the flight back to our agency's headquarters in New York
My phone buzzed—Dante. Our team leader. Strict as a drill sergeant, cold as arctic ice. But brilliant in his own way, with a mind for strategy that complemented my intuition
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Monroe
His voice clipped through the speaker
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Meeting at 7 AM sharp. Agency conference room. Private. Bring your A-game
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Another body?
I asked, though I already knew
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Same case. We're escalating
Click. No pleasantries. Typical Dante
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Escalating? After five years of dead ends? Part of me hoped he had a breakthrough. The other part dreaded it— what if even Dante couldn't crack this?
The Apex Investigations office was a sleek, glass-walled fortress in Manhattan's Financial District, overlooking the Hudson River
By 6:45 AM, I was there, nursing a black coffee in the lobby. The team trickled in: First, Ishi Tanaka, our forensics whiz, with her sharp eyes and ever-present lab coat, even off-duty
She'd analyzed more Room 7 samples than anyone, chasing chemical traces that vanished like smoke
Then Ron Hargrove, the tech genius—burly, bearded, with fingers that danced over keyboards like a pianist
He'd built algorithms to predict the killer's next hit, but they always missed by a city or two
Last came Lucine Voss, our profiler and resident firecracker. Petite, with fiery blonde hair and a smirk that could melt steel
We filed into the conference room, a high-tech sanctum with holographic projectors and bulletproof glass
Dante was already there, standing at the head of the table like a statue carved from granite. Tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that could freeze lava. No suit today—just a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing tattoos from his military days
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Sit
He commanded, not looking up from his tablet
We all took our seats. Lucine was the only one bold enough to flop down dramatically
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
So, boss, what’s the plan? besides us losing sleep again for the next month?
Dante's jaw tightened, but he ignored her, waiting until we were all seated. The door locked with a soft click—private meant no interruptions
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Room 7
He began, projecting a holographic map onto the table. Red pins marked eighty locations: The Plaza in New York (victim 1, 2017), The Ritz in Paris (victim 12, 2018), now the Grand Horizon in Chicago (victim 80)
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Eighty confirmed victims, all across multiple cities. The killer doesn’t stop. and reina—
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
—you’ve been on this for five years. tell me what you see
I exhaled slowly, pressing my hands together
Reina/FL ( Eina )
It’s methodical. The killer studies hotel systems, times, staff changes. They target different regions to confuse the jurisdiction process. The ‘7’ isn’t random — it’s symbolic. Seven days of creation, seven sins, seven victims per year. Something psychological
Ron Hargrove( Ruin )
Maybe they’re replicating a ritual or message. but what’s their pattern of victim selection?
Reina/FL ( Eina )
That’s the problem
Reina/FL ( Eina )
There isn’t one. Gender, age, status — completely random
Lucine raised her hand like she was in school
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
What if it’s not random, but we’re just looking from the wrong angle? maybe it’s the hotels themselves that matter, not the people
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Explain
Lucine leaned forward, eyes sharp now despite her playful tone
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Each hotel where a murder happened was part of an old chain called ‘the royal haven group.’ I looked it up before you called the meeting. They went bankrupt six years ago. But… their properties were sold and renamed. The rooms might be connected to some sort of blueprint
Ishi Tanaka( Unpainted )
You’re saying the killer’s following the blueprint of the old hotel chain?
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Exactly
She said proudly, popping her gum
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Maybe the killer worked there. Or… lived there
Reina/FL ( Eina )
That’s… possible. If they knew the layouts, it explains how they enter unnoticed
Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly — which, for him, meant interest
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Lucine, i want you to pull the blueprints for every royal haven property. Cross-reference them with the crime scenes
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Aye aye, captain
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
So, we're going proactive. I've got assignments. This is the only way: divide and conquer, with fresh angles
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Proactive? You've been saying that for years, boss man. What's next, crystal balls?
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Save the sarcasm, Voss
Dante shot back, his voice a low growl
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Or I'll assign you to desk duty
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Oh no, not the desk! Anything but that. Fine, enlighten us, oh fearless leader. What's your grand plan?
Dante tapped the holo-map, zooming in on clusters
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
First, patterns we might've missed. Ishi, you're on forensics deep-dive. Cross-reference all autopsies with global databases. Look for micro-traces: pollen, isotopes in the blood, anything tying to an origin point. Maybe the killer's traveling from a hub city. Start with the Chicago body—rush the tox screen. And check for nanotechnology; rumors of black-market implants that could explain the cam glitches
Ishi nodded, jotting notes
Ishi Tanaka( Unpainted )
On it. I've got a contact at Interpol for isotope mapping. Could narrow it to a continent, at least
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Good
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Ron, tech angle. Build a predictive AI. Not just locations—factor in lunar cycles, numerology dates (like 7/7, or multiples of seven). Hack into hotel chains' central reservations—Marriott, Hilton, independents like the Grand Horizon. Flag any Room 7 bookings with anomalies: single occupants, paid in crypto, or from VPNs
Ron grinned, cracking his knuckles
Ron Hargrove( Ruin )
Finally, some fun. I'll layer in social media scrapes—see if victims posted about hotels before death. And deep web monitoring for 'Room 7' chatter. Could be a darknet challenge
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Reina, you're the brains here. Infiltrate. Pose as a hotel consultant auditing security. Target chains hit multiple times: Start with the Eclipse Hotels in Vegas—they've had three victims. Plant bugs, interview staff under cover. Look for insiders—someone tipping the killer to empty rooms
My pulse quickened. It was risky, but brilliant
Reina/FL ( Eina )
I can do that. And I'll cross-check guest lists for overlaps. Maybe the killer books adjacent rooms, like 6 or 8, to stage entry
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Smart
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Coordinate with Ron for real-time data
Lucine raised her hand mockingly
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
And me? Or am I just here for moral support?
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Remember the blueprint?
Lucine's eyes lit up, despite her pout
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Ah Yes, Finally, something aggressive. Though your ideas are so... predictable, Dante. Ever think of therapy for that control freak vibe?
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Ever think of shutting up?
He retorted, but there was a ghost of a smile
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
This isn't a game, Voss. One slip, and we're victim 81
Ron Hargrove( Ruin )
You two should just get a room. Preferably not number 7
Ishi Tanaka( Unpainted )
Or do. Might solve the tension
I couldn't help but smile inwardly. Amid the frustration, this team was my anchor. But the case loomed large
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Sir, what if it's bigger? A network? Multiple killers copying each other?
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Possible. That's why we're syncing weekly. Share everything—no silos. And Reina, if you get a whiff of danger, pull out. You're too valuable to lose
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Meeting adjourned
As we filed out, he caught my arm
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Monroe, this ends now. We've got the pieces—time to assemble the puzzle
I nodded, determination steeling my resolve. For the first time in years, hope flickered
CHA:2: Sou Tachibana
{ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬 }
Ah, the sweet symphony of chaos. Here I am
Lounging in my penthouse atop the Tachibana Tower in Midtown Manhattan, New York City
The date? November 4, 2022—three days after that delightful little deposit in Chicago's Grand Horizon Hotel
The city sprawls below me like a glittering web, lights twinkling like the eyes of a thousand sinners begging for mercy
I'm sipping a 1946 Macallan, neat, because why dilute perfection?
My reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows stares back
Sharp jawline, piercing red eyes that could charm a snake, and those tattoos—intricate coiling across my back, chest, and up my neck, a reminder of the yakuza blood I left behind in Tokyo. Handsome? Oh, darling
I'm the CEO of Tachibana Enterprises, a tech empire worth billions. AI security systems, quantum encryption—we keep the world "safe
The public adores me: magazine covers, TED talks on ethical innovation. If only they knew the real innovation happens in the shadows
Killing? It's not just a hobby; it's art. Pure, unadulterated ecstasy
𝙀𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚
Why? Because they're no saints, my dears. Every single one got away with horrors that would make your stomach churn
I don't pick randomly—oh no, that's for amateurs. I dig deep
Hacked databases, bribed informants, my own surveillance nets
That accountant in Chicago, Elias Grant? Embezzled millions from orphanages, left kids starving while he yachted in the Bahamas
Dark sin number one: greed that devours the innocent. And the feeling?
When the light fades from their eyes, it's like conducting an orchestra—each gasp a note, each plea a crescendo
Power surges through me, electric, orgasmic. They deserve it; society's blind justice failed them, so I step in
Judge, jury, executioner. Sarcastic? Me? Never. Just brutally honest in a world of hypocrites
I know every move those detectives make. That agency, Apex Investigations? Pathetic
Reina Monroe, the "𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩" one—ha! She's chased her tail for five years, sniffing dead ends I planted like breadcrumbs for pigeons
I glitch cameras with my custom EMP devices, leave false DNA trails from cloned samples, book rooms under ghost identities that vanish like smoke
In London last year, at the Savoy Hotel, I had Rex stage a fake maintenance outage—cops chased a "suspect" to Heathrow, only to find a decoy
𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩? 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙨
They look for patterns; I weave illusions
Numerology cults? Hired hackers to seed dark web forums with that nonsense
International ring? Leaked "tips" pointing to cartels in Mexico. Keeps them spinning, wasting resources. And Dante, that stiff prick—calling meetings like he's Sun Tzu
I bugged their conference room months ago; heard every word of their "escalation." Infiltrate hotels? Predictable. I'll feed them red herrings until they choke
But enough reminiscing. Time for number 𝟴𝟭. I've got a fresh canvas
Marcus Hale, a slimy real estate mogul from Brooklyn. Raped a 12-year-old girl two years ago—daughter of his maid
Cops "lost" evidence; his lawyers buried it. Dark sin: lust that shatters innocence. I tracked him for weeks, learned his routines: gym at 6 AM, mistress at noon, board meetings at Tachibana Tower—ironic, since he invests in my company
Last night, I slipped a sedative into his scotch at that pretentious club in SoHo, The Velvet Rope. He woke up here, in my private "studio"—a soundproof basement beneath the tower, accessible only by my retinal scan elevator
Concrete walls, surgical lights, tools laid out like a gourmet kitchen: scalpels, pliers, acids, and my favorite, the electric chair replica for... motivation
Rex is waiting when I descend, his hulking frame leaning against the wall like a shadow come to life. Best assassin in the world? Understatement
Ex-special forces, trained in every kill art from Krav Maga to poisons. He works for me because I saved his ass from a cartel hit in Colombia
Now he's loyal as a dog, but twice as deadly
He grunts, nodding toward the chained figure in the center. Hale's strapped to a metal table, naked, gagged, eyes wild with terror. The room reeks of fear-sweat and antiseptic
I flash my million-dollar smile
Sou Tachibana/ML
Rex, my faithful reaper. How's our guest? Comfy?
Rex smirks, crossing his arms
Rex ( Kim )
Squirming like a worm on a hook. Begged for his mommy when he woke up. Pathetic
I circle the table, trailing a finger along Hale's trembling arm. His skin goosebumps—delicious
Sou Tachibana/ML
Marcus, Marcus. You thought you could hide? That little girl—Sarah, wasn't it? She'll sleep better knowing justice is served. Poetic, no?
Hale mumbles through the gag, tears streaming. I yank it off
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 :
P-please! I have money! Millions! Let me go!
I laugh, a low, manic cackle that echoes off the walls
Sou Tachibana/ML
Money? Oh, honey, I'm richer than sin. This is about balance. You took her innocence; I'll take... pieces of you
Rex hands me the pliers without a word. Efficiency, that's why he's the best
I start with the nails—fingernails first, slow pulls that make him scream like a banshee
Sou Tachibana/ML
Feel that? That's the pain you inflicted, amplified
_________________________
Sou Tachibana/ML
Tell me, Marcus, how did it feel raping a child? Empowering?
He sobs, babbling excuses
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 :
It was a mistake! She came on to me!
I hiss, switching to toenails. Blood pools, warm and sticky. Rex watches impassively, occasionally adjusting the IV drip—nutrients to keep him alive, barely
By evening, Hale's a mess, fingers raw meat
Sou Tachibana/ML
Rex, thoughts? Too gentle?
Rex ( Kim )
Nah, boss. But maybe add some voltage. Wake him up proper tomorrow
Sou Tachibana/ML
Brilliant. Lock it down. I'll be back at dawn
_________________________
I return after a board meeting—irony, discussing "ethical AI" while planning torture
Hale's weaker, eyes sunken. I wheel in the acid cart
Sou Tachibana/ML
Morning, sunshine. Today: confession. Your other sins—bribery, fraud. Spill, or burn
He resists at first. Rex holds him down as I drip hydrochloric acid on his thighs—sizzling flesh, acrid smoke
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 : AHHHHH! NOOO
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 :
Okay! I paid off judges! Embezzled from tenants! Please stop!
Sou Tachibana/ML
Good boy. Rex, note that—anonymous tip to the feds later. Diversion for the cops
Rex nods, typing on his encrypted tablet
Rex ( Kim )
On it. They'll chase corruption while we plant the body
We break for lunch—sushi delivered from Nobu. Over wasabi, I muse
Sou Tachibana/ML
Rex, ever wonder why I do this? Not just vengeance—it's the rush. Society lets these vermin walk; I correct it. Feels like... godhood
Rex ( Kim )
You're twisted, boss. But effective. Better than my old gigs—killing for cash. This has purpose
Sou Tachibana/ML
Twisted? Flattery. Pass the soy
_________________________
Afternoon: more acid, targeted
His arms blister, peel. He passes out twice; Rex revives him with adrenaline shots
Sou Tachibana/ML
Stay with us, Marcus. The fun's just starting
By nightfall, he's broken, confessing every dark deed: the rape, cover-ups, even a hit-and-run on a homeless man. I record it all—fodder for leaks to confuse investigators
Sou Tachibana/ML
See? You're no saint. None of them were. That politician in Vegas? Trafficked girls. The doctor in LA? Sold organs on the black market. All escaped justice—until me
_________________________
Hale's a husk, begging for death. I enter with my scalpel kit, Rex at my side
Sou Tachibana/ML
Endgame, my friend. But first, signature
I carve slowly—chest first, ribs cracking under pliers. He howls. Then, the pièce de résistance: his genitals
I grip his flaccid cock, slicing the number 7 deep into the flesh. Blood sprays, warm on my gloves
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 :
PLEASEE! IT'S HURTT
Sou Tachibana/ML
Seven for the seven deadly sins you embodied. Lust, greed, wrath—all of it
Hale thrashes, but Rex pins him
Rex ( Kim )
Make it quick, boss? Or draw it out?
Sou Tachibana/ML
Draw it out. He earned it
More cuts, twists—brutal, intimate agony. Finally, the kill: a syringe of my custom toxin—potassium chloride derivative, stops the heart clean. No mess, autopsy puzzle
Hale convulses, eyes bulging, then still. Silence, save for my heavy breathing—euphoric high
Rex ( Kim )
Disposal, Hotel room 7. Which one?
Sou Tachibana/ML
The Meridian in Boston. Quiet, upscale. Book under a ghost alias. Glitch the cams—seven minutes, as always. Dump him post-midnight. And Rex? Make sure the 7 on his... artwork is visible. Let them puzzle that
Rex ( Kim )
Twisted genius. Consider it done. Any extras? False leads?
Sou Tachibana/ML
Always. Plant a hair from that decoy in Miami. And hack their database—make it look like a cult symbol from some obscure sect. Keep Monroe chasing ghosts
Rex hauls the body into a body bag
Rex ( Kim )
You're untouchable, boss. They suspect nothing
_________________________
I ascend to my penthouse, showering off the blood, tattoos glistening under hot water
𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚? 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚
Eighty-one down, eternity to go. The world's full of sinners; my symphony plays on. Sarcastic? Crazy? Perhaps. But in this mad world, I'm the sanest one alive
Later The Bath, I collapse onto the plush leather sofa, still buzzing from the Hale cleanup
The place is a minimalist dream: black marble floors, walls of smart glass that tint on command, and a view that screams "I own this city"
But the real star? Reshu. My little demon queen. A tiny black furball with eyes like glowing rubies—red as fresh blood, rare as a honest politician
First of her kind, they say; I "acquired" her from a shady genetics lab in Switzerland. Cost a fortune, but worth it
She's protective as a pit bull, smart enough to outwit most humans (and definitely those Apex idiots), and hates clingy crap with a passion
Me? I live to tease her. It's my daily therapy—keeps the crazy balanced
There she is, perched on the windowsill like a gothic gargoyle, staring out at the skyline with that "I'm plotting world domination" vibe. Her tail flicks lazily, ignoring the laser pointer I'm waving like a mad conductor
Sou Tachibana/ML
Oh, Reshu, my crimson-eyed conqueror! Come hither, you fluffy tyrant! Daddy's home from... work. Want to play? I've got this feathery toy that looks just like a pesky detective's ego—ripe for shredding!
She doesn't even glance. Just yawns, showing tiny fangs that could probably eviscerate a mouse in seven seconds flat
Reshu turns her head slowly, those red eyes narrowing like laser sights. She bats at the air dismissively—misses me on purpose
Sou Tachibana/ML
Et tu, Reshu? Betrayed by my own fur child! After all I've done—caviar breakfasts, that diamond-studded collar that costs more than a small country! You're breaking my black heart here!
I scoop up a catnip mouse and toss it her way. It lands at her paws. She sniffs it, then kicks it aside with one paw, as if saying, "Peasant offering. Try harder"
Crazy cat—smarter than half my boardroom. I roll onto my back, clutching my chest
Sou Tachibana/ML
Alas! Rejected again! Woe is me, the unloved serial philanthropist! If only you knew the sins I've avenged today, you'd worship me. But nooo, Miss Independent prefers ignoring her doting dad. Fine! I'll just lie here and perish from neglect!
She pauses, tilts her head—probably calculating if I'm worth the energy—then pounces onto my chest in one fluid leap. Claws out just enough to prick, like a warning
Sou Tachibana/ML
Oof! Victory? Reshu, you minx! I knew you loved me deep down
She meows once, low and sassy, then curls up right on my tattooed neck, purring like a chainsaw. Ignore me? Ha! She's hooked
But shh—don't tell her I said that. My little red-eyed rarity, the only soul who gets my brand of madness
Author
Unfortunately I'm A Cat Here 🗿 All Because Of This Sou Baka
CHA: 3: Lucine Voss
Oh, joy. Another day in the glamorous life
It's November 5, 2022, and here I am, trudging through the sterile halls of the Royal Haven Properties headquarters in uptown Manhattan, a towering glass monolith that screams
Corporate soullessness with its polished marble floors and fake potted palms that look like they've never seen actual sunlight
Why am I here? Because Dante, our oh-so-charming team leader with the emotional range of a brick wall
Assigned me to dig up blueprints for every Royal Haven hotel chain property that's been hit by the Room 7 killer
You know, cross-reference layouts with crime scenes, look for architectural quirks that might explain how this phantom slips in and out like a bad ex at a wedding
Royal Haven—fancy name for a mid-tier chain that's popped up in half the Room 7 cases: the one in Vegas (victim 47, strangled with a curtain cord), Seattle (victim 62, poisoned cocktail), and now whispers of ties to the Chicago mess
I flashed my badge at the receptionist—a perky blonde named Tiffany who probably thinks "detective work"
Involves cute fedoras and magnifying glasses—and demanded access to their archives. "Official business," I said with my best no-nonsense glare
She blinked, fluttered her lashes, and led me to a dusty back room stacked with servers and filing cabinets that smelled like old coffee and regret
Two hours in, and what do I have? A stack of digital blueprints on a USB drive, plus hard copies that could wallpaper my apartment
Elevators here, service ducts there, fire escapes galore. I pored over them on a borrowed laptop, overlaying crime scene photos from our database
Room 7 in the Vegas branch—corner suite with a balcony; Seattle—mid-floor with adjoining conference access. Patterns? Zilch
No secret passages, no consistent blind spots in security grids. The killer might as well be teleporting. Annoyed? Honey, I'm fuming. This case is like dating a ghost
Lots of buildup, zero payoff. Life's little joke: give the girl with the psychology degree a puzzle that's all smoke and mirrors
Expert. If I don't find something soon, I'll start profiling the coffee machine for hidden motives
By noon, I'm back at Apex Investigations, weaving through the bustling lobby where interns scurry like caffeinated squirrels
The office is a hive: glass partitions, humming servers, and that perpetual scent of printer ink and ambition
I slam into Dante's office without knocking—because why not add fuel to our eternal fire?—and toss the USB on his desk like it's a grenade
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Dante, darling
I drawl, plopping into the chair opposite him, crossing my legs with dramatic flair
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Your brilliant blueprint quest? Epic fail. Nada. Zippo. The architectural equivalent of a blind date with a mime
He looks up from his tablet, those steel-gray eyes narrowing like he's sizing up a suspect
Dante Russo: tall, brooding, with that perpetual five-o'clock shadow and a jaw that could cut diamonds. Hot, if you like the "emotionally unavailable iceberg" type
Which, apparently, I do, since our arguments are basically foreplay
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Voss
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Report properly. Not your stand-up routine
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly see my brain
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Fine, Mr. Protocol. I cross-referenced every Royal Haven blueprint with our crime scenes. Elevators? Standard. Vents? Too small for a human unless the killer's a contortionist squirrel. No hidden doors, no overlapping maintenance tunnels that scream 'serial killer expressway.' It's like the buildings are mocking us. Happy?
He pinches the bridge of his nose—classic Dante frustration
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
That's it? You spent four hours and came back with 'nothing'?
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Three hours and forty-seven minutes, thank you very much. And yes, nothing. This guy's a wizard. Or maybe it's you—your assignments are cursed. Ever think of that?
He stands, towering over the desk, voice dropping to that low rumble that sends shivers annoying ones, mostly
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Cursed? Try incompetent. I gave you a lead; you squandered it
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Squandered? Oh, please. I dug deeper than a mole on steroids. Maybe if you weren't so busy playing drill sergeant, you'd see this case is designed to drive us nuts. But no, blame the profiler
We're nose-to-nose now, his cologne—spicy, infuriating—wafting over
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
If you'd focus instead of snarking—
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Snarking? This is strategy! Lightens the mood in your doom-and-gloom kingdom
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
Out, Voss. Before I assign you to traffic duty
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
you secretly enjoy our little arguments
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
I do not
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
You do
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
I don't
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
You so do
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Look at you, all serious and cold. classic tom. i’m clearly the jerry here
Dante Russo/ML ( Reaper )
You’re not a mouse
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Oh, i’m the mouse that steals your peace of mind
Before he could come up with a comeback, the intercom buzzed
Nuan Intercom
Agent voss and agent monroe, report to director odessa blue’s office immediately
Reina glances up from her adjacent desk, arching a perfect brow. She's the yin to my yang: calm, brilliant, with that sleek black short hair and eyes that see through souls. We've cracked cases together that'd make headlines—if we weren't so discree
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Uh-oh
I mutter as we head up to the executive floor
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Mama Bear summons. Think we're in trouble?
Reina/FL ( Eina )
With you? Always possible
Odessa Blue's office is a power statement: mahogany desk the size of a small country, walls lined with awards and photos of her shaking hands with presidents
Odessa herself? sharp-suited, with silver-streaked hair in a no-nonsense bob and eyes that could laser-cut steel. Strict? Bossy? She's the queen of it, but with a teasing edge that keeps you on your toes
She booms as we enter, gesturing to the leather chairs
Odessa Blue
Sit. Coffee? No? Straight to business
We sit. She leans forward, steepling fingers
Odessa Blue
First, kudos on the Whitaker case. That embezzlement ring you two dismantled last month? Flawless. Reina, your deduction on the offshore accounts—genius. Lucine, your profile nailed the ringleader's narcissism. Saved a Fortune 500 from collapse. I'm proud. Hell, I'm framing the report
I beam, sarcasm dialed down for once
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Aw, shucks, boss. We aim to please
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Team effort
Odessa chuckles, but it fades quick
Odessa Blue
Now, the elephant—or should I say, the Room 7—in the room. This serial killer farce has dragged on five years. Eighty now? The brass upstairs is breathing down my neck—FBI liaisons, media hounds, even whispers from the White House. 'Apex can't crack it? What good are you?' Solve it. Soon. Or heads roll—starting with mine, then yours
Odessa Blue
Not that I'd let you off easy. Lucine, maybe assign you to babysit interns. Reina, paperwork purgatory. Motivation enough?
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Crystal clear, Boss. We'll nail this ghost
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Absolutely
Odessa Blue
Good girls. Dismissed. And Lucine?
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Yes?
Odessa Blue
Next time you mock dante in the office, make sure the cameras aren’t recording
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
you saw that?
I asked, pretending to be shocked
Odessa Blue
I see everything
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Creepy
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
But fair
_________________________
Back at our desks, reina was already scribbling on her notepad, deep in thought. i spun lazily on my chair like a child in detention
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
You know
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
We should totally get a neon sign that says room seven task force
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
What? branding is important
Before she could respond, the elevator dinged. three women stepped out, and instantly the air felt like it gained fifty percent more confidence
In strut Renata Voss (no relation, thank god—world can't handle two Vosses), Mariana Reyes, and Sia Kudo: our agency's secret weapons. Assassins? Best in the world, whispers say. They handle the "off-books
𝗥𝗲𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗮: tall, with a glare that could wilt flowers. Rude, strict, savage—queen of one-liners that cut deeper than her knives
𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗮: Wavey-haired firecracker, reckless on the surface but cunning as a fox, with a sweet smile hiding venom
𝗦𝗶𝗮: petite, doll-faced, sweetly dangerous—like poison in candy wrapping. Voice like honey, moves like death
They're fresh from a mission—disheveled but triumphant, carrying duffels that probably hide more hardware than a spy movie
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Look what the cat dragged in
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
The deadly trio! Mission success? Or did you blow up another embassy?
Renata Voss
Lucine, still alive? disappointing
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Aww, missed you too, renata
Mariana plopped onto the nearest desk
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
We heard you’re still failing to find the room seven guy. what’s the score now? eighty bodies?
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Wow, thanks for the reminder
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Really love that motivational energy
Renata Voss
We bring the truth, not comfort
Renata said flatly, crossing her arms
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Truth, huh? and what’s the truth of your last mission? heard someone got caught in their own smoke bomb?
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
Hey, that was renata, not me
Renata Voss
It was a tactical misdirection
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
Sure
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
And the two minutes you spent coughing were… meditation?
Sia giggled softly, and we all turned to her. She rarely laughed
Sia Kudo ( Siya )
You all sound like children
Sia Kudo ( Siya )
Adorable children who play with guns
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
And you sound like a disney princess who hides knives in her purse
Sia Kudo ( Siya )
Oh, I do
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Fantastic
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Remind me never to borrow your purse
We all chuckled. it felt weirdly normal — assassins, detectives
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
Aw, Ren, be nice. Lucine's trying. But seriously, eighty-one bodies? We'd have iced the guy by now. One bullet, problem solved
Renata Voss
Right or he’s just mocking you'all
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Wow, renata
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Your positivity lights up the room
Renata Voss
And your sarcasm darkens it
Sia perches on the desk edge, batting lashes innocently
Sia Kudo ( Siya )
Oh, but where's the fun in that? I like the chase. Makes the kill sweeter
Her smile's all sunshine and switchblades
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Details? Or classified?
Renata Voss
Classified? From you lot? Fine. Took down a cartel boss in Mexico City—Hidalgo Plaza Hotel, ironically Room 13. Sloppy guards, easy infil. Mariana distracted with her 'damsel' act—
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
Reckless? Me? Just cunning. Flirted with the bodyguard, slipped him a mickey. Sweet as pie—while Sia played maid, poisoned his tequila
Renata continues, savage tone dripping
Renata Voss
I handled cleanup. Snapped his neck for good measure. Out before dawn
I lean back, applauding sarcastically
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Brava! Meanwhile, we're blueprint-hunting like architectural archaeologists. No leads, just frustration
Sia tilts her head sweetly
Sia Kudo ( Siya )
Poor things. This Room 7 killer sounds fun. Sevens carved everywhere? Kinky. Maybe he's an artist. Want us to... assist? Unofficially?
Mariana laughs, reckless edge shining
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
Yeah! I'd love to play. Lure him out—pose as a victim, then bam! But nah, you'd get all ethical
Renata Voss
Ethics? Overrated. Your agency's too soft. If it were me, I'd torture a suspect till they sang. But you? Meetings and memos. Hilarious
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Oh, burn
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
But admit it—you three need us for the brainpower. Brawn's great, but without profiles, you'd be stabbing in the dark.
Sia giggles—dangerously cute
Sia Kudo ( Siya )
Touché. But stabbing's my specialty. Remember that time in Tokyo? Yakuza hit—sweet talk got me in, knife got me out
Mariana nods, cunning gleam
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
And my Paris op? Reckless dive off a balcony, but I landed the intel. Sweet victory
Renata Voss
Enough chit-chat. Room 7 tip: think bigger. Not one killer—copycats. Or a CEO playing god. Rich folks are twisted
We're all laughing—dark humor bonding—when my phone rings. Caller ID: NYPD Homicide. Reina's buzzes too
I answered, putting the call on speaker
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Lucine voss speaking
The voice on the line: gruff, urgent
𝗖𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗛𝗮𝗹𝗲:
Detective Voss? Captain Hale. Got a fresh one. Meridian Hotel, Boston. Room 7. Brutal—number carved... places you don't wanna know. Get here ASAP
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Of course. Room seven. My favorite cursed number
Reina/FL ( Eina )
Let’s move
I sighed, grabbing mine too
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
Another day, another dead body, another coffee i’ll never finish
As we headed out, mariana called behind me
Mariana Reyes( Jain Momo )
Don’t die, lucine!
Lucine Voss/Fl (Butter)
No promises!
Somewhere in the city, the killer was probably smiling, and i couldn’t help thinking — life really knew how to write punchlines
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