Johnny; Red Label Detective
The paragraphs of crime in the e-newspapers are shanty, and that's bruising to the law enforcement agencies.
No one envisaged that a mortal could outsmart the dozen AIs that roam the year 2030, but Belzeebub; the serial killer on a killing spree is making wisdom look flimsy in his adventurous cold murders.
Who then is close enough to stop him or at least, to play catch up?
There goes a whistle for the one; the villain's about-to-be nightmare & He's not your Nolan Hero or your James Gunn protagonist, he's a drunk. A sad drunk is here to castrate the blood thirst of Belzeebub... How fierce is he?
"Maybe he's not a piece of grey hair and a bulging belly after all?!" the young cop next to him thought to himself.
"only one entity can commit crime that can't be caught; the ghosts in the skins of God." Alphonse said to the dumb faces of the cops who stood around his half-drunk body while he ran his sweaty fingers through his grey hair.
"Here's a note he left at the crime scene, sir" a forensic expert said as she made her way through to Alphonse.
"It's a turquoise pen... that's his signature style; he's expressing peculiar elegance in his style and like the fascist soldiers, he takes the bodies away." Alphonse said to them all with a critical gaze at the pen in his hand.
He wasn't clueless; he was mentally aroused by the sound of an intellectual mystery and with his 'ugly' antique shoe, he wasn't kidding.
Half the world finds sex worthy of sobering up, Alphonse sees mystery as enough reasons to get off the jerking horse of drunkenness.
"Wait. Belzeebub fucked up. There's a glitch in his 'divine plan' and we're about to make history. Let's catch a killer" Alphonse said as he smiled with intellect between his jaws.