Sypnosis: One fateful night. One birthday party. One tragic story. 5 years later, it comes back to haunt 5 friends who discover that they are being hunted by a sadistic killer. They enlist the help of police detective John Denver to protect them and find the murderer fast. But it seems that the murderer is always a step ahead of the police. Can John Denver still solve the crime when his most trusted partner becomes the prime suspect of the case?
[1] Tonight was special for Joe Robson. It was his birthday. He had turned 24 today and was hanging out with a bunch of his mates and they were drinking. That was all he could remember. Then he was waving goodbye to his friend Matthew, who had sent him back to the apartment he lived in. Joe stumbled at the front door as he groped his pocket for the key. “Shit, where did I put the keys?” Just then a light shone. “Having difficulties there, young lad?” It was his neighbor, the irritating old man who always listened to his stereo which was always blasting some sort of weird and ancient music. Joe reeked of alcohol and knew the old man was a health-conscious freak. “Stay away from me or I’ll vomit all over your face.” The old man backed away. At this moment, the key fell out of his shirt pocket. Joe picked it up and unlocked the door, slamming it shut the moment he got in. “Young people these days are just so rude…..” The old man mumbled to himself as he made his way back home and turned on his stereo as he prepared to turn in for the night. Joe was disorientated by the alcohol, but he was still awake and conscious. “Damn that old man and his stereo, I’ll break both of them when I see them again.” But Joe was more bothered about another thing. Tomorrow morning his parents would pick him up for breakfast as a belated celebration for his birthday. Both of them were extremely busy and could only make it for tomorrow. And both of them were extremely strict with tidiness and cleanliness, much like the old man. He remembered that day when his father saw his apartment and screamed at him. “What the hell are you doing to your room? This place isn’t fit for human living.” Then his mom slipped on a piece of sock and went crashing onto the bed. Except that the bed was covering his pile of unwashed clothes and the impact made everyone aware of that. “I…. am withholding your allowance for this month. If we ever see this again we will never give you any more money… Understand?” Grudgingly, Joe nodded. He was lazy and he knew it. There was no way he could hang on to a job and he needed the money his parents provided. The sad truth that dawned on him now was that his room would probably be a war zone to his parents. To his right was his clothing all strewn over the living room. To his left were his beer bottles littering the kitchen. Sighing, he set down to work. It would be a long night. The stranger outside the door was meticulous. He had everything prepared ready for the night. It was this fateful night a few years ago that he almost lost his life. Tonight someone will pay for it, and all hell will break loose....... “Crap” Joe jumped at the doorbell. Who could it be at this hour? His parents? No, they hardly had time to drop by and it was now late at night. Besides they were coming tomorrow, visiting now would serve no purpose at all. Could it be his friends? Possibly. They could have followed him back here and were going to surprise him. With a smile etched on his face, Joe walked to the door and opened it. Standing right before him was a man whose facial features were partially hidden by a pair of sunglasses and cap. His hands held the box of a birthday cake and a bottle labelled Sprite. “Who are you?” “Oh don’t you remember me? I would like to wish you a happy birthday just like 5 years ago, at that very special birthday party." Joe pondered for a while, before realization came crashing down on him like a wave. Before he had any time to react, the contents of the bottle of Sprite was splashed onto his face. It felt as though thousands of glass pieces seared into his face. His vision blurred as he opened his mouth to scream. But no words came out as he felt a blow to his head, and he knew no more.
[2} It wasn’t the best of days for police detective John Denver. First, he woke up with a throbbing headache. Then he received a call about a suspected homicide. Now, he was riding shotgun in the police car, with his partner Dylan Thomas at the steering wheel. Denver glanced to his left. Sometimes he wondered how Thomas could have been his partner and best friend as well. They were so different in many aspects, yet the two of them clicked well. For instance, Denver was a rookie in his early 20s, and was of medium build with curly black hair, while Thomas was an experienced sergeant in his late thirties, was of a larger build and had straight brown hair. But then again, Denver had always looked up to Thomas as his older brother, and Thomas was willing to share almost everything with Denver as well. It formed certain camaraderie between them, and the both of them had solved several robbery and burglary cases, earning praises from the police commissioner. However, today was their first homicide case together, and both of them were hard-pressed to solve it. The sight that greeted both man was not particularly pretty. A body lay at the front door of the apartment and it was quite obvious that whoever the killer was, he sure hated the victim. At first glance, it could only be ascertained that the victim was scarred by a liquid which was most likely acid. “What happened exactly?” Thomas asked the first responding officer to the crime scene. “Sgt, an old man called the police at 6.55am, reporting that his neighbor’s body was lying on the front door of the apartment. I reached the crime scene and did the necessary- detained the old man, cordoned the area off to public.” “Thanks for your help. Lead us to the old man and leave the rest to us,” interjected Thomas as they walked towards the old man. The old man was gaunt, and wrinkles littered his face. He seemed tired and nonchalant at the same time. Denver held up his badge “Sir, we would like to ask you a few questions.” “Ask away,” the old man was tired but he was cooperative. “Sir, please tell us what exactly happened.” “I woke up at 6.45am just like every other day and I was about to go for breakfast when I found Joe lying face up on the floor in front of his door. I went for a closer look and turned around when I saw his face. Man, that psycho splashed acid and killed him. How cruel is that?” the old man said as a matter-of-factly. “Sir, how did you know it was acid?” The old man gave a chuckle and replied, “I was once burned by acid when working in the pharmaceutical industry.” He raised his left hand and a scar was seen. “Now, I know acid wounds when I see them.” “Last question Sir, you don’t seem horrified or even surprised that your neighbor was killed.” “Joe was never friendly in this neighborhood, in fact, he was aggressive towards almost everyone except his friends who were drinking with him, people like him die every day, there’s nothing to be sympathetic about.” The old man shook his head in disapproval. Denver and Thomas left the old man to examine the crime scene. “This killer’s no ordinary man, he’s extremely careful,” noted Denver at the lack of fingerprints and evidence in the crime scene. “That’s right, and he’s very daring, he did not even dispose of the body after killing the victim here,” Thomas pointed at the blood splatter around the victim’s head and on the door. “Right now we know a few things; the victim was either splashed with acid first or hit in the head with a blunt object repeatedly. We’ll have to ask the coroner for the actual order but my guess is that the acid was splashed first, this fits the image of the perp hating the victim more.” Thomas summed up but gave a sigh. “All this isn’t really much to go on.” Denver pondered for a while. “Thomas, why don’t you visit the victim’s parent and see if they knew if the victim had any enemies. I’ll follow up on what the old man said- the bunch of friends the victim hangs out with.” “What about the old man himself? He was at the scene and is a suspect as well.” “The blunt object used would have weighed at least 20 pounds, and there was no way the old man could have lifted it. Of course, this doesn’t rule him out, but I think that other leads are more important. If you’re worried, we could put a police officer to monitor the old man.” “Alright then, but you better be careful ." Thomas left Denver to visit Mr. and Mrs. Robson, scowling. Denver wondered why Thomas was in a particularly bad mood today. But he cast that thought out of his mind as he focused on the more important matter on hand- the murder of Joe Robson. John Denver stared at the apparel store right before him. The visit to the club which was the most frequented in town was not exactly helpful. The bouncer admitted that he saw the victim on several occasions, but could not remember what his friends looked like. All he could do was point to the opposite shoe store, where he thought one of the victim’s friend was working. Now, Denver strolled into the store and brought out the picture of the victim at the counter. “Police, does anyone know this person?” At this, a young man stood up. “That’s Joe Robson, my friend. Did anything happen to him?” “He was found dead in front of his apartment door this morning. May I know your name?” questioned Denver. “What…dead? But…I just saw him last night,” stuttered the man whose name tag showed him to be Ryan Matthews. Matthews collapsed into a chair and shook his head wildly. “I need to go to the restroom…Excuse me for a while,” Matthews walked lopsidedly and disappeared into the back of the shop. “Sorry for that, Sir, I am the owner of this shop and Matthews is my employee. I often saw the victim with Matthews. He must be greatly distraught at the loss of his good friend,” Jamie Garcia spoke to break the awkward silence. “It’s ok, I’ll wait,” nodded Denver. A few minutes passed, and Matthews had still not reappeared. Denver decided to check on him. But before he could even start moving, Denver heard someone in the shop let out a scream. In front of them, Matthews was limping and struggling to keep his balance. A deep gash appeared on his forehead, and his arms and legs were slashed too. “Someone…black suit…gloves….he attacked me..,” before he could finish his sentence, Matthews collapsed to the ground and writhed in agony, hoping that he was dead and did not need to suffer anymore.