Before we start, do note that this is my first attempt at this. If you see any issues in plot, or grammar, please point it out. Thank you, and enjoy.
Anarky
As the man frantically paced around his home, he found a package, addressed to him. “Quite odd… what is this?” the man said. Though his basic instinct said, nay, ordered not to, he picked up the parcel. Could this be what he thought it was? Only time would tell.
Jan\1\1955
New Morg City
This journal is the property of one of our best detectives, before he took a temporary leave of absence.
You will be given the job of solving the case formally given to Jason Sanders.
You will go through his notes, and determine the cause of the murders that Sanders was fixated on solving.
Good luck.
Well then… this is something. Well, if I have this thing, might as well use it. My name is Detective Jason “Arkham” Sanders, I was given this journal to list any loose ends in any of my cases. Let’s hope I actually use this thing. Until next time.
Feb\9\1995
New Morg City
10:22 AM
Another day, another murder. Welp, no use moaning ’bout it.
The victim’s name is Jack Armstrong, no list of crimes. Death from blunt trauma to the head, resulting in his skull being cracked in 2 places. Forensics also show severe blood loss.
Poor fella nearly bled to death, then got his head caved in. Unfortunately, we’ve no possible leads to explore. I’ll keep this thing posted.
Arkham out.
Feb\20\1995
New Morg City
4:40 PM
Just great, another murder. Well, if I can get through this fast enough, I’ll have time for tea.
Anywho, the victim’s name is James Kincaid.
He died the same way as Armstrong, very unusual. Wait a sec… what’s… ah hell. The forensics missed something: the blood loss was caused by a .66 hollow point bullet.
The only gun that shoots these are very rare. The only ones I know of are the Crimsion sniper rifle, the KN-66 compact rifle, and my very own 67.0 Revolver.
Ah, how the plot thickens. I suppose tea can wait… Time to go.
Mar\15\1995
New Morg City
8:58 AM
God DAMNIT! It makes NO SENSE! No matter how I put it together, I still need one more peice! There’ve been 3 more murders.
We’ve actually been thinking of setting up a cerfew, to keep people safe. I apologise for not noting down the last 3 murders, different people, same death. I swear, I’ll solve this case, even if it kills me.
May\8\1995
New Morg City
12:00 PM
Yes! I’ve gotten an anonymous tip that another murder is about to happen, this might be the break we’re waiting for.
As backup, I took at least 6 other officers. Some of the best. Whoever this b*****d was, he would never see the outside of a cell again.
We’ve arrived at the murder location. “Wait… I hear… TOP FLOOR, NOW!”
As we rushed to the top floor, we realized how beaten down this place was. I swear some the stairs almost broke beneath us. We also saw some paintings, and I SWEAR, they were tracking us.
We got to the top floor, we saw the unbelievable, but first allow me to set the scene for you.
At the entrance to the room was me, and my backup officers. On the sides, well one was poorly painted with several paintings hanging on it.
The other was clean, with fresh paint and some windows, be allowing us light to see.
But at the end of the room was the unthinkable, hell, I thought I was dreaming.
It was Armstrong and Kincaid, the first two victims, bowing to a man dressed clad in black from head to toe.
Without warning, they attacked us while the man in black remained seated, as if he we’re watching TV.
We had to shoot Armstrong and Kincaid, 2 shots each, one to the chest, the other to the skull.
At last, we faced the man in black, but then my men were englulfed in black tendrils.
When they emerged, their eyes were pitch black. When the man in black rose from his seat, my men took out their pistols. The man in black put a thumbs down, and in doing so, my men struggled, but failed, to shoot themselves in the head.
Shaking with rage and greif, I lunged at him, however the man in black side stepped me and started to englulf me in the same black tendrils.
I felt the air slowly leave my lungs, as the tendrils crushed my body. As I was about to pass out, the man said, in a deep distorted voice, as if he had a voice changer stuck in his throat, he said:
“As you slowly suffer, know that I am Penance. In an old life, I may have been sorry for what I have done. But now… not so much. In death, may you find peace.”
As the man finish reading the final journal entry, he sit… and started to smile. He went to put his trench coat on, along with his top hat, gloves, and boots.
As he left the house, the man said to himself:
“Penance comes for all.”
