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Otto Schmidt sat in his cluttered office.The dim, yellowish light from an old desk lamp painted the room in an eerie glow, casting long, dancing shadows on the worn-out carpet. His hair, an untamed silver mane, seemed to form a messy halo around his tired face, while the lines and creases on his skin were like a roadmap of a life lived on the frontlines of law enforcement. The file in front of him was a grim testament to the city's latest nightmare โ a series of brutal murders that had plunged London into a state of fear. Each victim's life had been extinguished in a horrific fashion, their lifeless bodies left in meticulously arranged, macabre displays. It was as though the murderer was leaving behind a gruesome work of art at each crime scene, a chilling testament to their audacity.
As Otto sat there, his piercing blue eyes scanning the grim details of the case, he felt a knot of dread and determination tighten in his gut. He knew he was dealing with a predator, a dangerous enemy that relished the deadly game of cat and mouse. This was a challenge that would push his abilities to the limit. His concentration was abruptly shattered by a knock at his office door. Without even looking up, Otto knew who it was โ his new assistant. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the room, mingling with the rustle of new clothes. Otto sighed deeply, the creases on his forehead deepening with his evident displeasure.
"Come in," he called out gruffly, his voice echoing his annoyance. He had always been a lone wolf. Having to share his professional space and his cases with someone else was like an irritating thorn in his side.
The door creaked open, and in walked the assistant. Otto grunted in response, his gaze still glued to the file in front of him. His eyes only lifted when he finally decided to set the record straight.
"Let's get one thing straight," he began, his voice rough with authority that had been hard-earned through years of service. He locked eyes with his assistant, his gaze stern and unyielding. "I work alone. I don't need a sidekick, especially one blatantly wet behind the ears." His words were a clear warning, a boundary he was drawing from the get-go. Otto Schmidt was a man who walked his path alone, and he intended to keep it that way.
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