His apartment was trashed. Papers scattered, furniture upended, and the faint hint of a struggle lingered in the air. An unexpected breeze pulled my attention to the open window, a pool of water gathered on the floorboards from the heavy rain outside. He could’ve left it open, so it was probably nothing, but I mentally noted it anyway. I gently guided the apartment door shut behind me, careful to avoid any unnecessary attention from noisy neighbours, and slowly stepped into Jonah’s 6th floor apartment.
As a seasoned reporter, the pulse of the city had often led me into the heart of its mysteries. But this time, the enigma hit closer to home. Over a week had passed since my colleague vanished into thin air. Their unexplained extended absence had me concerned, as had their last message to me.
A missed call. A voice mail. A clue.
There had been nothing, just static and background banging for nearly 20 seconds. I thought he must have drunk-dialed me by accident, and almost deleted the message without finishing it. Then his voice came through, and he just said “The cat” before a large explosion sounded, and the message cut off.
Initially, I thought the message was weird, and I intended to ask him about it when I saw him next. I didn’t know at the time that he would never be seen again.
And now, standing in his living room and looking into the bedroom of his downtown apartment, I found the source of the sound I had heard in the message. His bedroom door lay in splinters, small fragments littering his carpeted floor and bed, hinges holding onto the stubborn remains.
I carefully tip toed in and surveyed the mess, shining my small led flashlight around the room. Then, I saw the blood.
I immediately called the police, and while on the phone I continued shining the light around the room, describing the scene to the operator. The reason I had initially missed the blood, was that it was on the ceiling. Along with a huge indentation, like something large had been slammed into the plasterboard above the bed, the blood splattered then streaked towards the left wall and down the side, like someone had dragged a bloody mop across the ceiling and down the wall.
That’s when I noticed the framed picture on the floor. The picture of his childhood cat.
I immediately tip toed over to the picture, holding the phone to my ear while I tried not to contaminate the now evident crime scene.
I heard sirens in the distance, slowly growing louder, so I hung up on the operator, sliding the phone in my pocket and pulling out a set of gloves. I slid them expertly over my hands, placed my flashlight in my mouth, then picked up the frame. The glass was cracked, the bottom corner dented slightly. I figured it fell from the bedside table, knocked off in the commotion that had left the room in this current state.
I flipped it over and immediately noticed that 8 of the 10 black tabs that hold the rear of the frame in place had been straightened out, as if someone had removed it and hastily put it back on. I straightened the last tabs and pulled the back off with a wiggle, and a micro-SD card fell to the floor.
Quickly grabbing it, I put it in a small zip lock bag then placed that into a hidden pocket in my coat. I replaced the back of the frame then repositioned it approximately where I found it, before heading out to the corridor to meet the arriving police officers.
The Police questioned me for a while, but were satisfied at my explanation of why I had gone to Jonahs apartment and, essentially, picked his lock and broken in. I probably got more leniency than others would have, as I had worked with both attending officers in the past in my capacity as a reporter, so they knew who both Jonah and I were. That didn’t mean I still didn’t get the obligatory “don’t leave town” and “We will have more questions for you” threats, but overall, I was out of there within the hour.
I immediately plugged the card into my card reader when I got home. Jonah had taken time to hide this before he disappeared, and I think that he wanted me to find it, that’s why he called me.
And what was on there has left me shaken and fearing for my life. Files, dating back to the 5th of December, about a new story he was working on. A story I wish he never got me involved in.
The first files on the SD card were text files. I haven’t included all of them, just the ones related to this case.
********************
05/12/2023
My source, JG, from within the downtown police precinct contacted me yesterday. Apparently, there are growing concerns within the police HQ about a gang war building in the city. They’ve been keeping it quiet, directed by the mayor apparently. I guess they don’t want it to get out. Election year, so no surprises there.
JG provided some photos of a crime scene. There were bodies of some low-level drug dealers dead in an alley. The bodies were mutilated, torn apart in some cases. Some close ups showed burn marks and signs of torture. I don’t know how they managed to keep something as horrific as this under wraps, but this was definitely the first time I had heard of anything like this in the last few years. At least to this level of brutality.
JG also provided some reports on the deceased. It confirmed that they were low level criminals with wrap sheets that included drug dealing, motor vehicle theft, breaking and entering and assault being the highlights of their criminal past. Real scum.
JG said he is not so sure this is a gang war. No other gang has taken responsibility for the crime, which would normally happen, and informants have not backed up the claim.
He thinks something else may be at play here, but has no evidence yet. He has asked me to sit on this for a while so he can try find out more from his end. If a report gets out now, they will know someone has leaked it from within the department, and it will become harder to find out more. He asked me to do some investigating from my end, see what I can find out.
12/12/2023
Just got off a call with John Burgess, seems he’s working for Right Security now. Quick chat about the old college days, but I could tell he had something else he wanted to tell me. His call came in just after midnight.
Told me he mostly does the night shift for them, driving around factories in the industrial area not far from the pier. He said they are mostly empty factories nowadays, only a handful still in operation.
His role is mostly to just chase off teenagers looking for a place to drink, do drugs, property damage, that sort of thing.
But tonight, he heard gunfire coming from one factory which is not on his rounds. It is a large, 3 storied, red-brick factory that he drives past a few times on his normal route. He said it always has lights on, and there are usually a few unbranded trucks and some nice, corporate-looking cars parked out front. It has the typical big fence and secure gates like all the other factories in the area.
He said he parked slightly up the road and left the car running while he called the police
He stood next to his car while he was waiting and watched on as he saw lights in the windows flicking off one by one.
The gunfire continued, but over the next few minutes it slowly faded out until the large factory stood in darkness, all lights off, and the night was silent
That silence was shattered when the front door suddenly burst open, and a man came running out screaming. He made it about 10 meters when, in Johns words, his legs violently snapped together and he went flying, his face slamming into the pavement.
He looked dazed, likely concussed, as he lay on the ground. He seemed to be reaching, clumsily, for his feet, before his legs snapped straight and his head slammed to the ground again, and he was dragged feet first back into the dark doorway, as if he was attached to a rope.
John said he just stood there, next to his car, in stunned silence as sirens cut through the night, blue and red light illuminating the surrounding buildings as the police got closer, forcing the darkness to creep back.
One last thing. Just before the police arrived, John noticed a figure standing on the roof of the factory.
And he swears on his life that the figure jumped from the roof and glided away.
13/12/23
I followed up with JG in the Police precinct. He didn’t attend the scene, but had heard stories from colleagues around the station already. He said it was all very hush-hush, but it seems the victims were members of a small-time drug cartel that operated out of that factory.
16/12/23
I reached out to an informant, known as H.D, that I have worked with a few times in the past. He seemed hesitant and rushed, but money talks, so agreed to meet me earlier tonight but nowhere near downtown. We met where the outer suburbs of the city turned into rolling fields of farmland, at a well-known 24-hour truck stop diner.
I hopped out of the yellow cab, rain pelting me as I jogged through puddles to the front door and entered. Its retro-modern 1960s décor felt inadvertently chaotic rather than deliberately nostalgic.
I spotted my informant sitting in a booth near the back, so I made my way to them. As I settled into the well-loved red leather booth, I barely had time to get comfortable before the waitress appeared, carrying a glass jug of black coffee.
She poured us both a cup, took my order for a slice of pie, then made her way back behind the counter.
I pulled out a small roll of cash and slid it over to H.D before asking him if it was ok if I recorded this, but he said no, it’ll be quick.
He told me something is brewing, something big.
It seems to have some gangs a little riled up, worried even, and some of them have been tightening up the last couple of months.
He had heard whispers of a new gang in town, potentially South American or Middle Eastern, that had been brutally taking out some low-level thugs and dealers. But he wasn’t so sure. There was nothing he had heard on the street to support this.
He told me to look into something that went down at the ports seven weeks back. It was the first time he caught wind that something was going down in the city. The Foreman who was the first on scene was called Jordan.
With that, H.D stood up and started walking out, before he stopped next to me. He was looking at the ground, not making eye contact.
“I’m leaving town for a bit” he said to me, still averting his eyes.
“Whatever this is, gang, vigilante, crazy billionaire looking for a thrill, they are going for people like me not you. Still, be careful you don’t poke the bear.”
With that, he walked out of the diner as the waitress brought over the slice of pie. I sat there in quiet contemplation, staring at the running rivers on the window the rain had created as I mulled over what H.D had said. Something had spooked him enough to leave town. I think he knew more than he had said directly, but left me enough in between the lines to know this was serious.
17/12/23
I called Jordans Manager earlier today who informed me that he was going to be in after 9, working the late shift. Works for me. I pulled up to the ports around 10, thankful for the brief reprieve from the rain. The guard on duty was happy enough with my reporter credentials to let me in, and the fact I name-dropped Jordan and his Manager probably didn’t hurt either.
I found Jordan in the main office, where the guard had said he would be, and told him I had spoken with his Manager earlier and that I just had a few questions about an incident at the docks a couple of months back. He immediately stiffened and looked on edge and nervous, even before I told him what incident it was. Obviously, this incident had really shaken him. In all my years doing this, I had become pretty good at reading people, and what I read in Jordan right now, was fear.
I eventually managed to calm him with some language and tonal techniques I had learned, and he finally started opening up to me.
He told me he had been “persuaded” by the police to say the incident in question was a weapons bust that went wrong, ending in a large gunfight and multiple casualties.
It drove him to the brink of quitting his job, and when I asked why he didn’t, he said he has a mortgage and kids, and all the job market wants is 20-something-year-olds, not 55-year-olds with a bad back.
I sensed that Jordan had relaxed enough for me ask if I could record the conversation from here on, which he gave me permission for. Below is a part the transcription from that discussion.
“Do the ports ever shut down?” I asked.
“Nope, they run 24 - 7, there’s always people around” he replied.
“And was there anything special about that night?”
“No, nothing, it was a standard Tuesday night until it all went crazy” he said.
“Ok. Can you start there then. What happened that made the night go, as you say, crazy”
“I was overseeing a ship being unloaded, a large shipment from China, probably some cheap tvs or something, when the power cut out. It had been raining pretty hard, and windy too, so I wasn’t too surprised.
Then reports started coming in over the radio of a commotion in one of the warehouses, shouting and screaming, that sort of thing.
I started making my way there when I heard gunfire coming from that direction. I initially thought it was an attack, like, a terrorist attack type thing. I radio’d the boys in the office and said to call the police immediately”
“Then” I prompted after a moments silence.
“The gunfire slowed, then eventually stopped altogether, and not long after that the power came back on.
Another staff member, Jason Todd, was near the warehouse already. He and I went in together to investigate.
It was dumb. We should have waited for the cops, I know, but I had this intense curiosity as to what the fuck had just happened.
There were bodies, skinned, hanging from the hooks in the warehouse everywhere. Most had a different weapon shoved into their mouths and down their throats, like some ruthless message or evil gang-calling card.
One poor guy, he was still alive, but barely.
He kept mumbling about a, a black demon, over and over, until he bled out in front of us.
Jason quit the next day, moved across the country as far as he could. I don’t blame him.”
After taking all that in, I asked Jordan if he could take me to the warehouse so I could see where it all happened.
He was hesitant, said the police only just removed the tape, but I eventually managed to convince him.
Jordan led me there, but refused to come in himself. He said I had 10 minutes then I needed to go. I agreed, then entered the warehouse.
Even in the dim light, I could clearly see blood stains decorating the wall. Splintered crates created a maze to navigate, and the hooks where the bodies hung were draped in police tape.
I took a lot of photos before climbing a ladder to a top walkway near the rear of the warehouse. There, I found what looked like some evidence that the police had missed. A black, thin, membranous material, about the size of my palm, caught on a protruding nail. I don’t know why, but I immediately thought that it could be from a cape.
23/12/23
I sent that piece of material I found in that warehouse to a lab to see if they could tell me any more about it. I got the results back today – inconclusive. Though they did say it was old. Really old. Maybe 500-1000 years old.
There was also a news report on tv last night. It was of someone saving a couple from an assault from a group of thugs. Assaults and muggings are far too common in the city, but someone stepping into help is almost unheard of, and when it came to the description, I really perked my ears up. They said it was someone dressed in all black, with a black cape on, that attacked the assailants, leaving the couple to flee to safety.
When the police attended the scene, the assailants had been beaten to death and that they were appealing for witnesses. Good luck with that.
The news report finished with a comment from a local shop owner who, according to the running banner across the bottom of the screen, had been robbed 3 times in the past year. The shop owner said the cops have failed at their job and criminals aren’t scared of the law. But now, he says, a guardian angel is looking after the city, someone the criminals fear, cleaning up the streets.
29/12/23
I have spent the last week reviewing all reported murder cases and news reports from the last 3 months, and I am starting to see a pattern that no one else has reported on yet.
There have been multiple, seemingly unrelated, cases that have either been written off as a drug deal gone wrong, a territorial gang fight, or an accident.
One particularly brutal case, a meth house had been ransacked and 6 drug dealers slaughtered.
One of the dealers had been found with his forearms snapped, the protruding forearm bones shoved up and through his eyes, while another had been force-fed raw mixing chemicals until his internal organs had burnt and shut down.
But it wasn’t until I put all the different reports on a map that I realised this was all happening within a 10-mile radius. It was happening in the west of the city, an area with a mix of low-level residential lots, government high-rise public housing complexes, and industrial parks. It was a lower socioeconomic part of the city, with a high crime rate and little hope.
So tonight, I jumped online and booked a hotel, right in the middle of it all. Even nearing NYE it was easy to find a vacant room, as this area is not exactly a holiday destination.
Tomorrow, I go into the heart of this all, and I have a good feeling that I am about to break the news story of the decade.