David Haase

The mutated corpse’s blood had spread all over the room. Dean Howes was unidentifiable on sight. His own mother wouldn’t be able to ID the body, but it was Dean’s apartment. Rohrs took another Polaroid picture. “No prints, no nothing. The only thing we’ve got is this is some how involved with World War II,” mumbled Detective Daniel Fischer of the NYPD Homicide division. Detective Steven Rohrs just nodded his head slowly, as if something far greater was on his mind. The patrol officer looked like he had just seen a ghost. Fischer turned his attention to the officer, “Good work, I’ll recommend you to the head of your precinct. Tell Mark that they can bag up the body.” Fischer and Rohrs looked at each other. Nothing was left, except that on one of the walls, spray painted in blue, was ‘Remember WWII’. Rohrs finally said the inevitable, “All we can do is wait.”

Three Days Later

The killer slowly entered John Patton’s apartment. The key was under the mat, he knew this from experience. The TV was blaring and he could hear laughter. He needed there to be a scream, so he glanced around the corner into the living room to see John on a sofa. John still had not caught sight of the murderer. He thought to himself, “stay calm, a shot to the stomach, wait two seconds, and then a burst in the chest.” Time for action. John turned around as he saw a familiar man holding a silenced MP-5A5. The crisp bullet went slicing into John’s intestine. John’s reaction was a fierce, “Ahhhhhhhh!” Eleven more bullets left the muzzle of the gun, only eight hit his chest, he was dead in seconds. The man immediately grabbed a spray paint can and sprayed the wall nearest to him. The killer left as quickly as he came. He was in and out of there in 13 seconds.

“911 emergency services, what is the emergency?” barked the operator. “There has been a murder at apartment #106 on Cedar Drive, send the police!”

Detective Fischer was interviewing the neighbor Jack Mason. They stood inside the victim’s doorway. “So, you heard a scream, ran in 20 seconds later, the door was unlocked, and you found the body, then what?” inquired Rohrs. “I then used his phone to call the police,” replied Jack. Fischer finished his notes. “Lets dust for prints, thank you for your time Mr. Mason,” commanded Fischer. Rohrs and Fischer entered and started immediately. "Don't forget to dust the phone too," were the only words which came out of either of them for the next five minutes. To their dismay, they hadn't found one single print besides the victim’s.

Jack Mason waited cautiously behind his door with one brown eye focused into the peep hole. Finally, the two cops were out of his ex-neighbor's apartment. But instead of leaving, they stood in the hall and compared notes and whispered too quietly. They then both pulled out the standard issue Glock 17s and approached his door. Jack Mason's face suddenly filled with sweat and his throat clogged. He heard the noise of the men cocking back their guns, locking the first bullet into the chamber. He took off into his bedroom, with one thought on his mind, escape. He noticed the window.

Rohrs kicked the door down, and Fischer ran through headed to the living room. "NYPD! Jack Mason you are under arrest!" yelled Fischer as he searched for Mason. Rohrs entered the bedroom to find an open window. Rohrs screamed, "He went down the window!" He put one foot out onto the fire escape stairs and was about to put out the other when Jack Mason popped out of the closet with a .357 magnum aimed straight at Steven Rohrs' back bone. Boom! Rohrs collapsed. Jack walked up to him, aimed the gun straight at his head and boom! The crisp bullet entered the victim's head and death was instantaneous. Jack Mason was now dead. Daniel Fischer stood at the door with his gun carefully aimed at the dead, limp body. His gun, still had some smoke coming out of the barrel from the last fatal bullet. He then rushed towards Rohrs. "Thank God for my bullet proof vest!" cried Rohrs.

Reporter Tom Chan rushed up to Detective Fischer four hours after he had killed Jack Mason. "Sir, detective, what is Detective Steven Rohrs' condition and why did Jack Mason kill?" questioned Tom. Fischer replied, "Rohrs was wearing a bullet proof vest and has no injuries whatsoever. The man, Jack Mason, had a father who was killed in World War Two on D-Day. After some research, we found out that all of the three victims’ dads were Germans and fought on D-Day. They all had changed their last names when they came to the United States. He must have done it out of revenge. By coincidence, one of his victims was his neighbor.”
Tom was still jotting down notes, he then perked up his head and spat out another question, “How did you realize it was he who had done the murders?” Fischer couldn’t stop from smiling, “It was luck really. Mason said he had made a phone call at the neighbor's house. The temperature was 87 degrees, way too hot to wear gloves. When we found there were no prints on the phone, it became obvious that he had killed the neighbor and then made the phone call with his gloves still on. If he just came in like he said he did, there would have been finger prints on the phone."