Isn't hatred beautiful, Isnt hatred so wholesome, Why, you dont love hatred ? . Hate is quite entertaining isn't it, when someone is angry to the point of murder only for reality to hit them when they act apon it.
A shop has opened. An unidentified...
Sam flicks through the case images, stopping on the latest, and then extends the smart tablet towards his colleague.
"Here. These are all the photos from the crime scene."
Victor, leaning back in his chair with an air of faux astonishment, arches an eyebrow and quips with a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice.
"Wow, efficiency personified today, huh?"
Sam shrugs off the comment with exasperated familiarity, an edge of annoyance in his tone.
"You know I'd do anything to spare myself your endless complaining."
Victor tosses a smirking apology over the screen of the tablet.
"Apologies, oh great and punctual one."
"I'm out. My shift's done," declares Sam, eager to leave.
Victor, without looking up, waves his colleague off and calls after him teasingly, "Try to make it all the way home this time, will ya?"
As Sam's footsteps fade away, Victor turns his attention back to the tablet, fingers swiping through the digital stack of images. The first photo fills the screen: the deceased, sprawled in an unsettling silence. The next, a close-up, detailing the lifelessness that has staked a claim on the victim's features.
Then, a photo depicting what appears to be an ordinary bottle at first glance. But there is something about it that snags Victor's attention. With practiced gestures, he enlarges the image, zooming in on the bottle. The label becomes clearer, sharper, the details starting to reveal themselves under the scrutiny of Victor's experienced eye.
"Zoom in," Victor mutters, pinching and expanding his fingers on the screen as...
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