1: Contemplation

There are many reasons why people commit murder, and those reasons are as varied as the murderers themselves. Some kill for revenge. Others do it in fits of passion or desperation. However, no matter how varied the circumstances, most of these reasons have a common root: the victim's life was in the way of the murderer's best interest, either real or imagined.

A person who kills someone in a jealous rage is getting rid of a person who is causing them to feel intense negative emotion. A person who kills due to fear is stopping the victim from possibly harming the murderer in some way. One can even make this case for the psychotic murderer. They may kill to quiet the voices in their heads that demand bloodshed, or in other cases, because an innocent victim isn't as innocent in their own twisted minds.

However, some murders cannot be explained so easily.

In some instances, the victim isn't of any significance. They weren't inconveniencing the killer in any way, whether in the realistic or fantastic sense. In fact, it is almost entirely based on luck whether or not someone dies at this murderer's hands.

Those who commit these murderers are the most enigmatic, and yet most simple killers of them all. They seem to kill for simply the sport of it. There is no loss of self-control. There was nothing to be gained by killing off one person as opposed to another.

They killed… because that's what they did.

The young man stared at a bright computer monitor, its screen showing various images of the most recent killer he had captured. It had been months after the Nagasaki Love-Suicide Cases had been closed, and yet he couldn't get the murderer out of his mind… his dull, almost lifeless eyes, his calm and yet intense demeanor… there was just something so frightening about him…

The young man forced himself to look away from the computer and instead busied himself by staring at the floor. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen people like the murderer before. It was impossible not to meet people like that in this line of work. However, every time he had the pleasure of meeting one…

His computer chirped and he glanced back at the monitor, which had replaced the various photographs of the Nagasaki Murderer with a plain white screen housing a single detailed w.

"L," a voice said, one he recognized as belonging to his "handler."

"Yes?" the young man asked, pushing away any unpleasant thoughts from his mind, "What is it?"

"Do you remember two weeks ago, when we were discussing the deaths in Los Angeles?"

He blinked. Of course he did. The LAPD had contacted him after they had found the second victim, asking if he wanted to help with the investigations. Almost immediately he decided that they weren't worth his involvement. There were only two deaths, with similar victims of similar backgrounds. It was almost laughably simple. The local police department would easily be able to sort the case out; there was no need for him to be there… He thought he made it clear the first time.

...apparently not.

The young man frowned and replied, "Yes, I remember."

"Well, it appears that the killer has been active again. The LAPD would like to have another word with you."

The young man's frown deepened, but he said, "Fine, tell them I'll speak with them."

"What do you mean he said no?" One of the commissioners growled, "Doesn't he realize that people are dying? Young people! Doesn't he care about that?"

"Well, to be fair, he did tell us he believed we were more than capable of solving the case by ourselves," the police chief replied.

"Honestly, I'm surprised he even gave us the rejection personally," an officer mumbled.

Unfortunately for the Los Angeles Police Department, negotiations with "the greatest detective in the world" weren't going as smoothly as anticipated. Because of this, the board of commissioners, as well as the police chief and a handful of officers had all been called in for an impromptu meeting, and had all crammed themselves into a small meeting room in the police station.

The commissioner who had spoken had stood up and began pacing around, much to the displeasure of everyone else in the room.

"The FBI is already getting involved," the commissioner griped, his hands and his voice becoming more and more animated as time went on, "…you did tell him that the death count is now at four, right? Two more just this week?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"That's four young men and women! Killed in an incredibly disgusting way! With absolutely no clues as to whom the killer may be!"

"It's still early in the case and we're still investigating," the police chief said, "Please just, calm down… it's not like we need him, anyway. We've been able to solve cases like this before."

"Yeah, who needs him?" one of the officers agreed.

"It was only four deaths…"

"There were two in this week alone!" The commissioner snapped in frustration.

"It's still only four overall… that's a really small number. I mean, if I were L, I wouldn't be wasting my time on this just yet…" a young officer began.

"Wasting your time?" the commissioner asked, spinning around to glare at the young officer who had spoken, "This isn't wasting time, this is bringing a serial killer to justice! Do you think the victims' families think this is just wasting time…?"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door of the meeting room.

"What is it? What do you want?" the commissioner barked, spinning on his heels to yell at the door, "What is so important that you have to interrupt us?!"

The door opened slightly and a young woman peeked in. Everyone's eyes in the room immediately snapped to her, and she almost shrunk away due to the amount of attention alone, "I'm sorry to bother you, but we just received a new report, and I thought you ought to know about it."

"Well, hurry up and spit it out!" the commissioner barked.

"The killer has… struck again."