The detective raced down the street, his gun in hand. He had been chasing a serial killer for weeks now, but it seemed like he was always one step behind. Everywhere he went, more bodies were found, drained of all life and emotion.

The detective had heard a rumor on the street that the killer was heading to a certain house next. He had to get there before the killer did, or else risk more lives being taken. As he raced towards the house he noticed shadows moving in the houses on either side of the street. Was the killer already in the neighborhood? He didn’t have time to check.

He arrived at the house just in time to see a dark figure slipping away around the back. He took off after it, determined to catch the killer and put an end to the carnage. He chased the figure down dark alleys and through deserted streets until finally cornering the killer in an abandoned warehouse.

The killer lunged at the detective, trying to escape, but before they could reach the exit the detective pulled the trigger and stopped the killer dead in their tracks. The detective had caught the serial killer, but he had failed to prevent any more deaths. He hung his head in sorrow, a regretful reminder of the cost of his duty.