With a wave of immense satisfaction, you flung yourself onto your beanbag chair, staring up at the tiled ceiling of the building you worked in. You never really understood the point of having friends when one could have a beanbag chair that remembered you every time you sat on it, already carrying out the imprint of your body, making it the perfect chair.

The city of New York was a bustling hub of human activity, never once knowing the sound of silence. You thought that if the city ever were to grow cold and desolate, it would mark the end of the human race, for the city you lived in was the head of a growing human empire that was scattered all across the globe.

And you were its protector! Just the thought of that sent chills down your spine, the way that the lives of over eight million people rested on your shoulders, depended on your actions.

It had been a long road to get where you sat now, comfortably immersed in your beanbag chair imported from China. Most of it had been paperwork, but only through hard work and determination had you been allowed to stand where you sat now.

Your fingers played with the golden badge that was proudly strapped over your breastbone, catching the glint of the harsh lights above. "New York City Police Department," you read aloud underneath your breath, feeling elation course through your mind at the thought. You had gotten the job only a day ago, but the day had already been full of activity.

Not only had you rightfully earned a beanbag chair, but you had also earned a great amount of respect within the community as well. Perhaps it was something about the badge, the way that it commanded an air of respect as you walked in the streets, letting the entire city know that you labored both night and day working to protect them so that they could sleep safe and sound at night -

"Hey intern, can you get me a coffee?"

The command snapped you out of your fantasy, once more sending you spiraling back to reality. Okay, maybe you had been exaggerating just a bit. You had been hired by the NYCPD yesterday and earned a cheap plastic badge as the only thing to show for it, but the entire gig had been completely worth it. You had earned your own beanbag chair and a small corner of the office to claim as your own.

Plus, your cubicle was even near the window where you had happily placed your cactuses. Such creatures did need love and nurturing, after all.

"It's (Y/n)," you grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out of the beanbag chair to fetch a pot of coffee. So far the job had proved to be nothing like it was advertised in the newspaper, an advert that had depicted the life of an intern as one where you would spend your hours deep in the heart of the city, solving crimes and ensuring justice for all...

But in reality, you were beginning to understand why there was such a vacancy of interns in the police department. Your day had been filled alright, moving back and forth as you filed papers and fetched both donuts and coffee for the police officers that worked within the building.

Yeah people, that's where your tax dollars pay for.

"Okay Sally, go get me the coffee," the police officer replied sarcastically, biting into a donut as he typed something into a computer. Upon closer inspection it seemed that he had fixated himself with playing Candy Crush.

You opened your mouth to respond with a retort but then decided better of it. As much as you hated the majority of the people that worked here, you were desperate to keep the internship. It was the only one you could find within the city that offered full pay, which was essential if you wanted to keep up with the extraneous rent on your apartment on the outskirts of the city.

You trudged over to the counter and began to pour the steaming pot of coffee, wondering why the police officer couldn't have bothered himself with walking five feet to get it himself and turned back around to give the steaming pile of liquid back to him.

As you entered his cubicle, you purposefully allowed your foot to catch on the side of the wall paneling and went crashing down to the floor, watching in satisfaction as the coffee cup sailed through the air in a majestic arch before splattering the liquid all across the papers that were stacked across his desk.

"Dammit!" The police officer cursed, standing up to avoid the coffee that would have scalded him should he have remained in his seat.

"Whoops," you replied, really not giving a damn for what had happened. The longest you had ever kept a job was for two weeks and that was only because you had been dating the diner's manager, which ironically was also the longest relationship you ever had.

"You ruined my donut!" The officer spat, gazing with a profound sadness upon the donut that was now soaked with coffee. "Do you know how much that cost me?"

"Nothing," you replied, feeling the words spill from your mouth without restraint. "It comes out of the taxpayer's wallets, doesn't it?"

The face of the police officer blushed to a deep crimson as he sputtered back a retort. You began to think that he was going to tear you a new one when a sudden rush of static came from the dusted radio that was perched on the opposite wall of his office room. The sound caught the two of you unawares; this section of the police department was reserved only for an incident that involved a double homicide, which was rare even within the city.

"Requested backup on Fifth Avenue," a voice sputtered from the radio, almost undetectable from the overwhelming sound of gunfire in the background. "Five men down, suspect has barricaded himself inside a convenience store with four hostages inside." More gunfire followed as the policeman continued to holler into the radio, "Backup now! I repeat, five men down!"

You and the other office froze, immediately forgetting your dispute over the donut and the spilled coffee. You felt your blood run cold at the thought of having to rush straight into the midst of an active crime scene. Even though you had been rigorously thrown into the police department's training program in case you were summoned for a case such as this, you never thought it reality until now.

"Hopefully you're better at shooting a gun than you are with fetching coffee," the officer replied as he shouldered on his vest, tossing you yours as you hastily put it on. You traced your finger against the cold outline of the gun that was tucked within the front pocket, recoiling from the prospect of using it to take another human being's life even if it was necessary.

You realized that the officer's name was Hank as you gazed upon the golden badge that was pinned for all to see. "Ready then?" he asked you as several other policemen filed out of the building, jumping into their cars and speeding off towards the east side of town. You climbed into the backseat as Hank started up the engine, the white car roaring to life as the sirens began to wail.

There was barely enough time to fasten your seatbelt as Hank took off speeding towards the crime scene, speeding past people who were running in the opposite directions, eager to make their way back towards their homes to escape the chaos that ravaged the other side of the city. Your hand was still clamped around your gun, fingers white from the pressure that you were clutching it with.

"Just stay in the back," Hank reassured you, looking at you through the rearview mirror. There was no signs of aggression within his eyes anymore, instead laced with pity and remorse, as if he too was reliving the first moment when the call had come for him to jump into his first case. "The others should have the situation dealt with by the time we get there."

The flashes of police cars became prominent in the distance as the two of you arrived near the outskirts of the building. Most of the pedestrians had cleared the area already, the entire block covered up from the rest of the world. You joined the grouping of men and women who were assembled outside of the convenience store, speaking to one another rapidly through the radios strapped across their chests.

"Any words from the hostages?" Hank asked as the two of you ran towards the group.

A woman by the name of Donna briefly glanced at the two of you. "They're still alive, from what we can gather. We're not sure what the suspect wants, there's been no demands issued from the building since nine o' clock when the situation was first reported. We lost five men when they entered the building. Whoever tries to enter the store is killed on sight, it's a slaughterhouse in there."

Over Donna's shoulder you could catch the glimpse of several dead bodies that were visible from the window of the store. You felt yesterday's dinner rise up in your throat and you turned away, wishing you were anywhere but here.

"We've got a team heading around back right now," she continued to explain before hollering something into the radio once more. "There's three snipers and we're hoping that we can catch the suspect by surprise and liberate those trapped inside."

The whole situation seemed perplexing to you. The biggest question was the motive, why some demented person would even want to hold five people hostage in the first place. From the looks of it, no demands had been issued which was even more perplexing. Usually the criminal offered some sort of ransom in exchange for the lives and yet this seemed to not be the case.

"Could it be the same one from last week?" Hank asked Donna as he looked over her shoulder, clenching his jaw at the sight of his fallen comrades.

Your mind briefly recalled a similar situation that had occurred only a few days back. An unnamed person had briefly taken a bank hostage with twelve people inside. The motive was never discovered, only that every hostage had been slaughtered and the twenty of the thirty police personnel that had responded were killed on sight. The murderer had gotten away and the trail went cold after that. There was nothing to show for it, not even a fingerprint.

"Would make sense," Donna muttered as she glanced up at the roof of the building. Even in the dark of night you could make out the figures of seven people as they skirted the top of the store, guns in hand as they began to enter through the ventilation shaft. A sickening thought occurred to you that the next time they would leave the store would be through a closed body bag.

But how could one person have enough strength to take on seven armed police officers, let alone twenty if it was in fact the same person last week? None of this made sense and the thought unnerved you.

"What if he wants us to come?" The thought suddenly occurred to you and you voiced it aloud, Hank's and Donna's head snapping in your direction.

"What did you say?" Donna asked, her voice oddly quiet.

"I mean, what if the suspect wants us to be here?" The pieces were beginning to fit together in your mind. "What if this whole hostage thing is distracting us from the bigger picture? What if the hostages inside aren't really what the murderer's looking for, but it's all a trap, a ruse to get us here? It would explain why they would have robbed the bank last week without stealing anything, only killing people. Money, demands, they don't mean anything to this person. They only want to kill - "

"Us," Hank finished, a look of growing horror dawning on his face. "They want to draw us in, it's all one big game of cat and mouse." He turned to Donna, a look of horror on his face that chilled your blood to ice. "Donna, you've got to get them out of there!"

Her face was blank for a moment, trying to process what was going on. Finally, she spoke into the radio. "All police personnel, please exit the building immediately! Conclusive evidence suggests that the suspect is anticipating your arrival, abort mission, I repeat, abort mission!"

"Target is in sight ma'am," a reply came through the other end, kept at a hushed whisper. "We're taking aim now."

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, everything going still when -

An ear-piercing scream rang through the other end of the radio, a scream that could be heard even from outside the building. A brilliant flash of blue light erupted inside the convenience store and Hank tackled you the ground as the entire building erupted into flame, blowing the foundation to smithereens.

Screams and confused shouts rang out across the assembling of officers as they struggled to come to their senses. A profound ringer buzzed inside your ears as you got to your feet, stumbling as you blindly walked to try and catch a view of what remained of the convenience store.

The entire building was ripped apart, bricks and metal shafts strung across the landscape. A row of mangled corpses that represented the officers closest to the building lined the streets. You doubled over and emptied the contents of your stomach, the events of the night too overwhelming for you to great to handle.

It occurred to you that this must mean that the seven snipers and hostages inside all must have perished as well. You wondered if the suspect would have been did as well, but an awful feeling within your stomach suggested otherwise. But how could someone survive a blast such as this?

And what could so such a thing? Even after the police investigators would wrap up the scene and declare that it was a bomb that reduced the store to rubble, nothing you had ever seen before, and certainly not in your training, ever recalled a light capable of emitting a blue light such as the one you had just witnessed.

The second thought that came after was worse.

What if the murderer wasn't human?

A hand that clamped on your shoulder caused you to jump. "We've got to retrieve the bodies and clear the area," Hank said, wiping a stream of blood from his face as he barked a series of commands towards a group of nearby officers. "You coming or not?" he asked, looking over your shoulder.

More than anything you wanted to run and forget that any of this had ever happened, but a sense of duty overwhelmed you. You owed it to those who had perished inside to retrieve their bodies and find out who exactly had been the one responsible for ending their lives.

As you followed Hank and the others, combing over the pile of brick and metal in search for the bodies of the victims, your foot caught on something that sent you crashing to the ground. Muttering a stream of curses as you nursed your injuries, your gaze fell upon a single silver knife that stuck up from the ground, untouched by the chaos around it.

You ran your finger across the blade, analyzing a few grains of what you thought to be dust that coated the outer edges. How could a knife be covered in so much dust?

And in the corner of your eye you saw it, a lone figure on the rooftops that watched the chaos below as if it were a god reveling in the happenings of its subjects. A hood shrouded their face, concealing it from view.

The figure would have almost been invisible against the blackness of the nighttime sky if it weren't for the single glowing eye rimmed with blue and red that sparkled like some malevolent star. For a brief moment the eye met your gaze, staring at you in wonder. And then the figure turned and began to ran, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

You rose from where you had been squatting, ignoring the calling voices of Hank and the others around you, giving way to chase.