The stench was unbearable. Even through a pinched nose did Bruce Harrington find himself gagging onto a piss-stained wall, hoping not to contaminate the evidence. He heard the heavy footsteps of his newly joined partner exit the alleyway. A blameless action, the nearly retired gentleman thought to himself. This was the worst one yet.

Braving the scene, Bruce found himself desperately trying, with watering eyes, to ignore the smell. Wafting his hand to clear the cloud of flies that had taken claim over the body, he finally took a look at the twisted, contorted human laying motionless on the broken concrete. It took Bruce a second to work out where each limb was against the mangled remains of this mass of bones and flesh on the floor.

Whoever had done this was a monster. And whoever had done this would strike again.

With a lump in his throat and a crease on his brow, the inspector had seen all he had needed. In the distance, a crow cawed and a child cried.

Back at his small house in the bustling streets of London, Detective Harrington mulled over every small detail of the case. Each victim was a police officer who had worked on the case of the Thames Killer and had been involved in bringing England’s worst serial killer to justice. It was clear to Bruce that the one responsible for the most recent string of murders was slaughtering the officers in an attempt to show that he was better than the detectives who had beaten the worst. It meant that he was worse than the worst

Every time Harrington eyes closed, he was back in that alleyway. He hadn’t slept a wink since the first victim was found. He understood the motive but simply could not figure out who would do such a thing.

The rain pattered lightly on his window and Harrington opened it, allowing it to dampen the papers on his desk. With a cigarette held tightly in his mouth, he lit a flame and breathed in, hoping the nicotine would make him think straight. It didn’t work.

Through the dark clouded sky, the sun peaked. A knock rattled his door. A crow landed on his windowsill. And Bruce, finally allowing himself to close his eyes, knew his time was up. For it was him who had eventually been the one to solve the Thames Killer case. He was the last one left. And his time was finally up.

The crow cried out but the world kept turning and Bruce’s life was simply another lost against the many.