Red Ink Part 2.

It's been like this for weeks.

Messages appearing all over the city. Written in red. Ink, paint, even ketchup... And worse.

It's my job to find the freak who's writing this crap.

Problem is... I have no idea where to start. No leads, no suspects, no chance in hell.

It used to be simple. A crime happens, we have witnesses, we have fingerprints, we have evidence, we have suspects. Criminals got smart, but we got smarter - Hence the whole "CSI" scene. Forensic investigators have one of the hardest and yet oh-so-satisfying jobs in the world.

This is just weird. Crime happens, no fingerprints, no evidence, no suspects. Any witnesses were... used as a fucking paintpot. Not even any genetic evidence.

But people are dying.

Whenever there's a new message, even if its the same speil again - someone takes it personally. One guy went nuts over in Queens, offed himself with pills. But it was the amount that staggered me. He even swalowed a load of sepositories. That's just messed up. Looked like he force fed himself the entire contents of his medicine cabanet.

All because someone wrote "glutton" on the side of his house. It wasn't even just his house, the message was spread across 7 houses!

People are going crazy. There's no pattern to it!

...Except...

Well, it was ironic that the "glutton" guy ate himself to death. Then there was the Guy over in Chelsea who hung himself. "lust" was written in the center of the district. The guy was HIV positive.

People over-reacting to uncharacteristic nonsense.

I'd have written "greed" in Chelsea. That one turned up on Staten Island.

...I need to get some sleep. I've been working on this case non-stop.

Marcy's been worried about me. Heh, I hate to make her worry. Especially since she's living for two. Plus, she's been as spooked as everyone by these ...events? I don't even know what to call them.

...

What? Another one?!

"Pride" in Brooklyn? ...For God's sake Marcy, don't step out of the door.