Detective James Morrell walked downstairs to the lobby to meet the other forensic investigators and the media. Damn, what a crowd. Who the hell cares about some prostitute's murder anyway? This city has enough murders each night to empty the police stations with extra left over, yet every cop seems to be here. Morrell thought. Must be the grisly nature of this one that draws the media. They're like sharks; the more blood, the more that come. It's like these things are events in Gotham. And blood there was. A young prostitute in a hotel room, found with her throat slit and posed with her clothes off. Whoever did this clearly rented her out. She got more than just the playtime. he thought. "Hey Morrell, come tak a look at this!" Johnson. Why won't he shut the hell up and let me do my work? "Yeah, yeah, I'm comin!" Probably gonna show me some dried hunk of toothpaste in the bathroom sink and claim that it's "evidence". "What? I don't have time for---" Detective Morrell stopped in his tracks. There, written on the vanity mirror, was a strange and chilling message. It read:
"I HAVE MY FIRST MARK. I WILL TAKE MY SECOND VERY SOON! THE ZOMBIES CANNOT ESCAPE THEIR FATE!"
"What the hell does it mean? What is his "mark"? And what are "zombies"?" Morrell asked. "Not sure. All we can discern is the weapon was a long knife, probably a butcher knife, and that the TOD was about 2 hours ago." What's in here? thought Morrell as he opened the drawer of the vanity. Can't see all the way back there. Have to feel around. Hmm, just a lipstick tube. "Nothin in there, huh?" asked Johnson wearily. Wait, that doesnt feel like a lip stick tube! That feels like a--- oh my god, oh my god... "OH MY GOD! JOHNSON, GET IN HERE, NOW!" "What is it?" "This isn't a lipstick tube. It's...it's...it's a FINGER!" And so it was. Morrell pulled out the stiff, cold pinkie finger of the young woman. And to their shock and horror, not a drop of blood came out. "Oh Jesus Christ! Get that thing away from me!" Johnson screamed. "No, no...no wait! Why is there no blood in the finger? Oh no. Ohhhh no. He used the finger to write the message! Morrell almost threw up. "See, Johnny, look! All the blood's gone! And the finger is the exact same size as the thickness of the lines! And plus, the writing is red!" "We are dealing with a madman here, Jack. We need to take this finger into the lab, as well as dust the surface of the desk for prints. Let's go, let's go guys!" Morrell, however, had to walk away. He felt queasy.Why didn't I take that job in Keystone City? he thought as he tried to put as much distance between him and that awful tragedy as possible.