Slowly opening his eyes, Basil saw not his apartment, but a crowded street. He looked around, confused, until he saw a child, perhaps five years old, sitting on a bench, listening to his father speak to him. "Just like always, Basil," the father said to the kid, "Daddy goes into that building, and you help Daddy count the number of people who walk in, ok?" the father said. The child nodded with a smile on his face, unaware of the situation unfolding around him. So pure, so innocent, how could he? He watched his father walk into the building, his figure slowly fading as he walked deeper in. The child's eyes moved around like lightning, counting every single person who entered the building.

  But then, the soft jingle of a candy cart nearby caught the attention of the kid. Slowly, the child's eyes drifted from the building onto the cart. Basil watched this scene in horror, his eyes so wide that his eyeballs could pop out, and his forehead sweating. It was like he was witnessing chaos before it unfolded. Then, he watched the kid slowly turn his body towards the cart. He sees many kids running to it like a pack of sheep, all laughing with joy, each getting a candy of their own. Slowly, the child, who was sitting on the bench, also got swept away.

  "No..." Basil said, "STOP!" and ran towards the kid, only to phase right past him. He looked back in confusion, then hopelessly, and finally in utter defeat.

  He watched as the child ran towards the candy cart, slowly getting swept away by the bright colors of a lollipop and the smell of cotton candy. Then, as if lightning struck him in the head, he jolted up in cold sweat. Frantically looking around, he realizes that he was back in his humble flat, the crowded streets gone, the candy cart missing. Slightly shaken, he fell back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, grumbling under his breath.

  "How lovely..." he said in a sarcastic tone.

  Later that day, Basil was called to yet another case by Grace. To say "later that day" would be inaccurate, however. It was still quite early when Grace had called him, saying something about a case being "to his liking". Of course, this meant two things: either option one, Grace was out of her wits once more, not that she wasn't a clever woman. Or two, this was actually a good one. Both excited Basil, both allowed him to show off and tease Grace, both allowed him to mock other detectives, and both allowed him to test his wits. Arriving at the scene, he saw many officers standing around like idiots, at least in Basil's eyes. Some showed terror, some showed shock, and others showed excitement.

  "Either we're dealing with a notorious serial killer." Basil said, walking past them, "Or all these officers wanted to impress Grace but failed miserably."

  Basil observed that the location was quite ghetto. Run-down apartments, tightly built apartments, pretty dense population. In a place like this, crime often gets seen as nothing more than simple gang violence or street fights. Unfair, yes, but the law is flawed in many ways. walking up the sketchy metal stairs, Basil caught a glimpse of Grace standing here the doorway of one of the apartment rooms. He was about to poke her and scare her, but a voice from the room caught his attention first. "Male, perhaps half white, half asian, formal, but young... detective." Basil thought.

  Ditching the scare operation, He poked his head into the room, first smiling at Grace, who glared back at him, as if quietly scolding him for taking so long, before looking back in the room.

  "Based on how the man fell, he likely walked in first before getting stabbed in the back and then stabbed in the front once he turned around from shock," a young man said.

  Basil listened to the man intently. This was the same voice he heard from outside. Getting a better look at him, he noticed it was indeed a wasian male, young and passionate about his job. wearing a white dress shirt and his ID card around his neck, he was definitely also formal. Quite skinny, it was a miracle he passed the police academy with his body shape. Looking at the ID card, Basil caught the name of the young man, Brian Beyley. Basil looked at the dead body on the floor. Middle-aged Black man, maybe in his mid-30s or early 40s. One stabbed in the back, and two stab wounds in the front.

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  Brian continued. Stepping to the side, on the right wall of the small room lay a bloody smiley face, painted on the wall, a bloody smiley face. "Looking at the direction of the blood, it is most likely that the killer drew this smiley face clockwise, painted not as a symbol but more of a signature. The only man who would do this is well... Red John."

  That name caught Basil's attention. Red John, the infamous serial killer known for leaving no traces of his crimes besides a red face on the wall. Basil stepped into the room himself, turning his head, and he saw the face. eerie, bloody, yet somehow fascinating.

  "Well, this is quite interesting..." Basil commented, "Very interesting."

  "And who might you be?" Brian asked, glancing at Grace, then back at Basil.

  "Ah, right." Grace said as he stepped aside, giving room for Basil to step in, "Basil, this is Brian Beyley. he-"

  "New detective, I know." Basil cut in. "And no need to introduce me, it's a waste of time," he said, walking into the room. He walked past Brian like he didn't exist. Though Brian was baffled by this, Grace only smirked.

  "Basil, the new guy, is pretty good," she said, "follows your 'all facts point to one truth' mindset." he stated glancing at Brian, who was flustered by the compliment, "Maybe you've met your match."

  "Not quiet." Basil said as he turned around, "he's completely off.

  Brian gave Basil a look, as if watching a blind person staring at the sun, "right..." he said, "how?"

  "This isn't Red John for many reasons." Basil stated, "For one, the face is way too rushed. Look at how uneven this circle is; it's wonky, it's unprofessional, the lines are solid enough, and the color red isn't even prominent. The word 'red' in Red John isn't silent, you idiots."

  "So? Maybe he was in a rush." Grace cut in.

  "Wrong. Red John sees himself as an artist; he wouldn't rush his most iconic part of the piece. He takes his time, he makes the face perfect, he spends more time on the smile than the kill." Basil said, "Then it's the victim. Red John kills mostly women because he sees killing as a form of sexual pleasure; he kills for sex, metaphorically. He's professional, he's quick. he wouldn't waste his time on a backstab just to finish him off with a chest stab twice, both in non-vital areas."

  Then, Basil walked right up to Brian and flicked his nose. "Finally, Red John is in California, that's a whole other country," he said before walking out of the room. "Honestly, to compare me to his is... insulting.

  Flinching at the flick, Brian looked at Grace with victim written all over his face, "Detective Grace," he said, "Battery."

  "That's just how he is..." Grace said with a long sigh, her hands resting on her hips as she watched Basil leave the scene, uninterested, unassuming, as well as a strange sense of sadness. "I am terribly sorry about him. I'll have him apologize to you," she said.

  As she left the room, she watched everyone else finishing up. Walking down the steps, she sees that many people were staring at her, not out of admiration, but out of confusion. "Ah..." she thought. She knew what they were thinking about, at least an idea. It is definitely strange for someone like Basil to act so close to someone like Grace. Both came from different worlds, both with different mindsets. Even in terms of social hierarchy, Grace was practically at the top, and Basil was at the bottom, not that he cares anyway.

  She sees Carwell yelling at some rookies, probably for messing up a procedure, or maybe just being disorganized. Carwell is responsible as a cop, and as a detective, Grace respects him for it. But his attitude towards her is where his marks are deducted. Grace was quite happy when Basil and Carwell first met; now, thinking back to it, Basil really did humble Carwell quite a bit. Recently, she's even noticed that Carwell hasn't been bothering her, 2 weeks to be exact. That was a milestone.

  But slowly, Grace's thoughts drifted towards Basil. Something about his energy was off. Usually, she would be ecstatic about a new case, a killer mimicking another serial killer? The Basil she knew would be kicking his feet right now, yet he didn't. Instead, for the first time, he looked disinterested.

  "No..." Grace mumbled, "he was distracted by something."

  But what? What could he be distracted by? Honestly, it was at times like this, is that Grace envied Basil's talents to deduce. If she had been distracted, Basil would have guessed and been spot on the moment he saw her, and from something stupid like a scratch on her shoe. Regardless, something was off. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.