Good Detectives Scott and Claire must outwit a cunning killer Pieces of a Nightmare by marilyn quillen What Happened? writing prompt entry

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. “Just pick up the pieces,” Scott's voice shook with fear, the command barely audible over the deafening crash of shattered porcelain littering the wooden floor. The room fell into an eerie silence, disrupted only by the sharp hiss of wind rushing through a shattered window. His eyes darted around at the destruction: torn curtains, an upturned chair, and a smear of blood on jagged glass. He knew what this meant -his nemesis Eliot had returned. Claire's flashlight flickered in her trembling hand as she searched the room, casting long, ominous shadows that seemed to dance in the corners. She crouched down and lifted a shard of glass stained with dried blood, revealing a message scrawled in dark, menacing ink: "Run." "Scott," she whispered, her voice low and tight with dread. But before he could respond, a slow and deliberate creak sounded from the hallway, sending chills down their spines. "Move. Now," Scott mouthed urgently, his heart pounding in his chest. They backed towards the entrance, their guns drawn and ready for whatever came next. Suddenly, Claire's radio crackled to life with a static-filled voice breaking through the tense silence: "Dispatch to Unit 47. Possible sighting at 12th and Main. Same description, same suspect." Eliot. Just the murderous memory of his name sent shivers down Scott's spine. Three weeks of chasing him had brought them here, and now he was playing on their territory. In a wink of Claire's flashlight, something caught her eye - a photograph lying facedown under a broken cabinet. She snatched it up, her hands shaking as she turned it over to reveal a young girl with terror in her eyes. Scribbled on the back in smeared but legible writing were the words: "Find her before I do. Time's ticking." A sound echoed from behind them - a quiet chuckle that made their blood turn icy. They spun around, but the hallway was empty, filled only with ominous shadows. "We're being watched," Claire whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Before they could react, the radio crackled again, this time punctuated by three rhythmic clicks. A signal. A warning. The game had begun, and Eliot had just made his first move. "Backup," Scott barked into his radio, knowing it would be too late. They had only minutes - if they were lucky. A sudden crash sounded from above them. Claire and Scott ran up the stairs without hesitation, their boots thudding on the worn wood and their breaths ragged with adrenaline. The ominous hallway stretched out before them, concealing possible danger behind each closed door. "Tick, tock," a voice whispered from the shadows, followed by the slow, menacing scrape of a blade being drawn. Scott's heart raced as they moved down the hallway in sync, their breathing shallow and quick. The haunting words "tick, tock" repeated in his mind with every step. He shivered as they reached the last door, slightly cracked open to reveal a thin slit of darkness. Claire pushed it open with her foot, subdued lighting spilled in from the hall revealing a bare room with only a single chair in the center. Ropes hung from its arms and legs, frayed and stained. The window was wide open, billowing curtains carrying the scent of rain and something metallic. "He's playing games with us," Claire muttered as they searched for any sign of the girl in the photograph. Scott nodded grimly, feeling time slipping away from them. A soft whimper caught their attention - coming from the closet,  they crept towards it like predators stalking their prey. As Scott counted silently - three, two, one - he flung open the door. But there was no one inside. The darkness of the room enveloped them like a shroud, thick and suffocating. Claire's heart raced as she cautiously stepped forward, gun raised, her senses on high alert. Suddenly, something cold and sharp pressed against her neck from behind, sending a jolt of fear through her body. A voice, smooth as silk but with an underlying edge of danger, whispered in her ear, "You're not as fast as you think, detective." Claire spun around to face the source of the voice, only to freeze when she saw the blade pressed against Scott's jugular. Blood oozed from the small cut at its tip, a chilling reminder of the deadly threat they were facing. "Time's up," Eliot sneered, his grin twisted into a snarl. But before they could react, a crash from downstairs. "Move!" Scott shouted, pushing himself between Claire and Eliot just as he thrust the blade towards them. With all his strength, Scott shoved Eliot at the same time Claire lunged forward, knocking him against the window. Even in defeat, Eliot's smile never faltered, he took advantage of the convenient escape route, as he laughed maniacally and taunted them with his parting words: "You'll never find her. The storm is just beginning." And with that, he bolted out the open window and disappeared into the night, leaving behind only the distant sound of sirens and the bitter taste of unfinished business. Scott clutched at his neck where the blade had grazed him, blood seeping through his fingers. Claire quickly checked the window, grabbed the radio and called for all units to pursue Eliot, now fleeing northbound. As they shared a tense glance filled with adrenaline-fueled determination, both knew this dangerous game was far from over. They still had to find Eliot's accomplice and save their missing victim before it was too late. The hallway seemed to close in on them as they made their way downstairs, each step bringing them closer to the unknown dangers that awaited them outside. The wind howled through the broken window, sounding like the mocking echoes of Eliot's laughter. But they pushed forward, their boots pounding against the wet pavement as they chased after their target. Claire shouted for them to split up – she would cut off Eliot's escape while Scott went in from the opposite direction. Heart racing and mind focused, Scott navigated through the dark alleyways, his only guide being the occasional flash of movement under the dim streetlights. The rain started to pour down, masking their footsteps and making it even harder to track their elusive suspect. In the midst of the chaos and tension, Scott could hear his own labored breaths mixed with someone else's – Eliot's harsh breathing echoing off the walls of the alley. And then came a chilling whisper: "Tick, tock." Scott's grip on his gun tightened as he moved forward cautiously, every sense on high alert. But before he could react, Eliot lunged out of the darkness towards him, steel glinting in his hand as he pushed Scott back against the unforgiving brick wall. Pain exploded in Scott's chest as he gasped for air, his vision blurring from both physical and emotional agony. Every move felt like an eternity as they fought for control – a deadly dance where one wrong step could mean certain death. Claire's silhouette appeared at the beginning of the alley, her gun steady and ready to fire. But even with backup assistance, it was clear that this would not be an easy victory. "Move up," Claire mouthed, and together they cautiously advanced towards their enemy's position. The scent of rain mixed with iron filled the air as they closed in on Eliot who stood waiting for them in the shadows. "Detectives, you've made this too easy," Eliot sneered, his voice like poison. In a split second, he lunged forward again, the glint of his blade blinding in the darkness. Scott's heart pounded against his chest like a war drum as he struggled to regain control. But it was too late – the blade came down towards him, threatening to end everything in one final blow. “Did you miss me?” Eliot whispered, his voice dripping with malice as he pressed the cold steel of a knife against Scott’s chest. Time seemed to stand still as the world around them faded into oblivion, drowned out by the deafening sound of blood rushing in Scott’s ears. In the midst of the chaos, Claire’s desperate shouts were barely audible over the raging storm and the frantic sounds of their boots on slick pavement. And then, a single gunshot shattered the air. Eliot's eyes widened in shock before he stumbled back, clutching his wounded arm. With rain-soaked hair plastered to her face, Claire stood at the end of the alley with her gun trained on Eliot, her expression fierce and determined. “This ends now,” she spat, taking a step forward. But even as Eliot's grin faltered, it did not disappear. “You think this is over?” he muttered before disappearing into the shadows, leaving an unspoken threat. Eliot moved like a wild animal, his eyes glittering with cunning as he darted down the alleyway with an impossible grace that defied pursuit. “Don't let him get away!” Scott roared, fueled by adrenaline as they chased after the elusive figure who seemed to dance just out of their reach. The city blurred past them in a whirlwind of neon lights and blinding darkness. Suddenly, without warning, Eliot changed direction and slipped through an old chain-link fence, causing it to rattle and protest loudly. Scott followed suit, his lungs burning with exertion as he stumbled into a narrow courtyard flanked by abandoned buildings. A faint sound caught his attention - the soft whimper of a child. “Claire!” he called out urgently, gesturing towards the corner where a small figure cowered in fear. It was her - the girl from the photograph. A wave of relief washed over him, but there was no time to bask in it. Eliot's cold laughter echoed through the courtyard, sending shivers down Scott's spine. “You've found her. Good. But now who's going to find you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. Claire stepped forward, her aim unwavering. “It's over, Eliot.” But Eliot's smile only grew wider with pure malice. “Do you really think so?” And with a quick movement, a flash of silver glinted in his hand before he vanished once again into the shadows. The courtyard fell deathly silent, save for the soft sobs of the terrified girl and the relentless patter of rain. Scott's chest heaved as he looked at Claire, their victory feeling hollow and fleeting. They both knew that Eliot would be back - he always was. But for tonight, they had fulfilled their mission and found the missing girl, and that was enough. “Backup's around here, they helped,” Claire announced calmly, though her eyes held unspoken questions. Scott pushed himself off the wall, his body trembling with adrenaline as he wiped away the blood from his neck. “Next time,” he said firmly, determined to end this once and for all. But deep down, they both knew that Eliot was far from finished... Writing Prompt Write a story that starts with: "Just pick up the pieces." You can extend the sentence if you wish.

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