Act I: Who Are You.

  19XX/XX/XX

  The cold, the rain, the job—none of it existed here. There was only the smell of roasted chicken and thyme, and the golden light of a hallway that stretched on forever. It was the only place he wanted to be.

  "Finally," he whispered, turning the key in the lock. "I'm back."

  The door opened. Warm light spilled out.

  "Papa!"

  A small blur of energy ran down the hallway.

  "Lucy," he laughed, scooping her up. "Who is my cute princess? Who is it?"

  "Me! Me!" she giggled, hugging his neck.

  He looked up. His wife was standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling. "Welcome back, honey," she said softly.

  "Yeah," he said, feeling the weight of the world vanish. "Thanks."

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  "Frank?"

  The face was his wife's face. But the voice... it was a man's voice.

  “What?” Frank said.

  "Frank?"

  "Yes?" he mumbled, reaching out, trying to hold onto the image of Lucy.

  "Wake up."

  "What..."

  "WAKE UP, FRANK! Get up, lazy! We have work to do!"

  Frank’s eyes snapped open. The warm house was gone. He was in the passenger seat of a car. Rain drummed on the roof like bullets. Lucas was leaning over him, shouting in his ear.

  "Oh my god, Frank," Lucas sighed, leaning back into the driver's seat. "Again? You treat this car like a hotel. Wake up."

  The back door opened. Ben leaned in, shaking his umbrella. "Okay, I'm here. Is he still asleep?"

  "Nah," Lucas said, starting the engine. "I just woke him up."

  A loud, thumping rhythm filled the car.

  "I'm awake, Lucas," Frank groaned, rubbing his face with calloused hands. "Stop this music. What even is that? A dying trumpet trapped in a washing machine?"

  "No," Lucas grinned. "The music is for me, not for you. Anyway, get up. We have a case."

  Frank stared out the window at the gray city. The memory of Lucy's laugh was already gone, replaced by the splitting headache of reality. "Case? What case?"

  "Someone was murdered."

  "Murder? Just that?" Frank closed his eyes again, leaning his head back. "Lucas, the city has a thousand cops. Unless the victim is the Mayor, give me five more minutes. My head is splitting."

  "We sent Sandy," Ben said. "She broke. Kid's only twenty-three."

  "She's scared, Frank," Lucas added. "Good. She should be."

  "Yeah. That too."

  "Then just send William."

  “This isn't a bar fight, Frank. The guy was minced,” Lucas said.

  Ben dropped the case file into Frank’s lap.

  Frank didn't open it. "And?"

  "He died in the blink of an eye."

  Frank opened his eyes. He kept looking into the gray city. And then he opened the case file.

  Frank grabbed a smoke from his pocket and lit it. The flame illuminated his face—a young man of twenty-eight, with hair long enough to brush his collar.

  He took a drag. The smoke curled around him, a gray haze to hide behind. In the reflection of the window, for a split second, he didn't see a detective. He saw a stranger staring back from the glass. Hollow cheeks, dead eyes—a ghost haunting a living body.

  "Let's not waste time," Frank said, his voice rough. He coughed, ash falling from his lips. "Drive, Lucas."

  Thanks for reading the first chapter of SHATTERED!

  This is a passion project of mine, Mixing Noir Detective vibes with Action-Heavy Dark Fantasy.

  Release Schedule: New chapters every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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  See you in the next one.