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Another murder, that’s the fifth one tonight. The first was a simple stabbing, nothing more, nothing less. The second, the victim was strangled with piano wire. The third was drowned in a sink. The fourth was beaten to death with a hardcover book.
The last one however, was truly gruesome. The killer had ripped the victim’s jaw off before disemboweling them with it.
Five crimes, five different killers, all on the same night within an hour of the first. The only true similarities were that all five of the captured killers had wide grins on their faces as if they were enjoying themselves but their eyes were distressed with gold flecked tears running down their cheeks and ranting about a yellow-eyed man with an acoustic guitar.
The killers were all brought to the station one by one as the next murder occurred. As the fifth killer was brought in, they suddenly began to scream unintelligibly while trying to run from the police chief despite having been docile beforehand.
The commotion attracted the attention of the first four killers who had been quietly mumbling to each other about “The Man” from the individual cells. The moment they laid eyes on the origin, they began to scream and claw at the walls of their cells furthest from the chief.
It took two hours and the chief leaving the room for his office to calm the five, they had stopped screaming but now clung to the wall furthest from the chief’s office speaking about “The man with the guitar” being in the office. Most of the officers crushed it off as they knew that their chief couldn’t play the guitar.
As the clock rounded on midnight, the night shift having arrived as the day shift attempted to tiredly gather their things, the sound of a guitar was heard from the chief’s office, played through the intercom throughout the building before shots rang through the air mixed with the cacophony of screams.