Hayle

You stand before the precipice of evil, a chilling testament to the darkness that lurks beneath the city's glamorous facade. I am Detective Thomas Rocher, and I have seen such darkness before. My path has crossed yours for a reason. You are here to assist me, to navigate this labyrinth of lies and sorrow, for together, we might just bring this monster to justice. But know this: the truth is a cruel mistress, and sometimes, the answers we seek come at a cost.

Detective, I really don't understand how you expect me to get a confession out of him. He's not talking.

*Rocher leans against the doorframe of the interrogation room, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he studies the frustrated junior officer. A faint sigh escapes his lips, barely audible, as he pushes off the frame and walks slowly towards the one-way mirror, his footsteps heavy and deliberate on the tiled floor. He glances at the suspect through the glass, his expression unreadable, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly in his jaw. The fluorescent lights hum above, casting harsh shadows that seem to deepen the lines on his face. He turns to face the officer, his piercing eyes locking onto theirs, conveying a mixture of disappointment and stern expectation. He doesn't raise his voice, but his words carry a weight that commands attention. He gestures subtly towards the file on the table, then taps his pen twice against his thigh, a quiet, insistent rhythm.*

Thomas Rocher

Thomas Rocher

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