Shades for Vengeance

Part One: A City of Rain and Lies

Rainfield City, a metropolitan expanse where the sun was more of a faraway fantasy than a reality, dwelt in permanent gloom. The skyline, jagged and filthy, threw black shadows over tiny streets and dilapidated buildings. The affluent lived in the sky, in glass skyscrapers, while the poor battled on the rainy, dirty streets below, where hope was as uncommon as bright skies.

Detective Sam Carter knows this city too well. He had wandered these streets since he could remember, a place where crime festered like an open sore and the law was as broken as the smashed windows bordering the lanes. Sam had never believed in miracles, but the notion of justice, that was something worth fighting for.

Yet when the rain poured down that night, soaking through his tattered trench coat and pouring from his fedora, Sam wasn’t so sure anymore.

The case had started like any other—a high-profile murder, a rich man dead in his mansion, and a media frenzy that painted the scene in a thousand different colors. But as he dug deeper, the bloodstains began to reveal more than just a killing; they led to something far darker. Something that could tear the thin veil of order left in Rainfield apart.

Victor Calloway was a name everyone in Rainfield knew. A powerful crime lord who ran most of the city’s illegal dealings with an iron grip, hidden behind layers of politicians, businessmen, and even police officers who owed him favors. His wealth and influence stretched into every corner of the city, and his power made him untouchable.

Sam had crossed paths with Calloway before—just a few years ago, in fact. Calloway’s men had been involved in the brutal slaying of Sam’s wife, Laura. The investigation had been buried beneath mounds of red tape and obstruction, with all indicators pointing to a succession of corrupt officials and law enforcement turning a blind eye. Sam had never forgiven the system for letting Laura die, and the hunger for revenge had become a quiet companion that gnawed at his soul, becoming deeper with each passing year.

It was just a matter of time until Victor Calloway’s empire ensnared Sam again. He simply hadn’t anticipated it to occur so soon.

The murder victim was Jared Whitley, a strong local politician with his own skeletons in the closet. His link to Calloway wasn’t public knowledge, but it was enough to arouse Sam’s suspicions. Whitley had been found in his mansion, his throat slit with a precision only someone with knowledge of the criminal underworld would possess. His death seemed personal, a message sent to someone—and Sam suspected that someone was him.

It didn’t take long until Sam found himself standing outside the Whitley estate, the rain pouring down on the slippery, dark tarmac. The house, a gothic remnant of an era long gone, loomed ahead, its windows gloomy, its gates forbidding and menacing. Inside, the mansion’s corridors were lined with paintings of power, each more menacing than the last.

Inside the main office, Sam spoke with the guy who had hired him to investigate the murder. Carl Donovan was a well-groomed municipal politician with links to both the aristocracy and the underworld. His fine suit and slicked-back hair were the least of what made him threatening. His smile, always calculated, hid a darkness Sam could feel in his gut.

"Detective Carter," Donovan began, his voice low and silky, like a snake hidden in a well-tailored suit. "We both know why you’re here. Jared Whitley’s death is... disturbing. He had friends in the right places. People who demand answers."

Sam didn’t answer straight away. Donovan’s words were a carefully constructed smokescreen, and Sam wasn’t about to fall for it. His eyes scanned the room, the rich mahogany furniture, the soft glow of lamps casting shadows across the faces of long-dead politicians in the portraits on the walls. The place reeked of lies, and Sam had grown accustomed to them.

"What do you want from me, Donovan?" Sam’s voice was hoarse, rough from years of unanswered questions.

"I want the truth," Donovan said, leaning in closer. "Whitley was a public figure, but he had ties to Calloway’s syndicate. If we let this murder go unsolved, the public will start asking questions. We can’t have that. You understand, don’t you?"

Sam nodded slowly, but deep down, his instinct told him that Donovan’s words were just another form of manipulation. Justice in Rainfield was like a streetlight in a fog—it flickered, barely visible, and often betrayed those who sought it.

"I’ll take the case," Sam said, more to appease Donovan than out of any real desire to find the truth.

Donovan’s smile widened. "I knew I could count on you, Detective. You’ll be well compensated, of course."

Sam’s fingers curled into a fist at the mention of money. He didn’t need compensation. He needed justice—though he wasn’t sure if he still believed in that.

Part Two: The Heart of Corruption

The investigation into Jared Whitley’s murder quickly became a twisted game of cat and mouse. Each lead Sam followed seemed to dead-end in one way or another, all roads leading back to Calloway’s syndicate and the web of corruption that choked Rainfield from the inside out.

Sam made several trips to the slums, to the dark corners of the city where the criminal underworld thrived, a place where justice was more of a whisper than a shout. He spoke to informants, to petty criminals who had once worked for Calloway. They spoke of fear, of silence, and of people who disappeared for asking the wrong questions.

The farther Sam probed, the more he discovered how entwined the system was. Law enforcement, politicians, and business moguls—all of them were connected to Calloway in some way. It was a kingdom built on bribes, threats, and blood. Everyone had a price. Even those who wore badges.

On one especially terrible night, Sam found himself at a filthy tavern on the outskirts of town, a place where guys like him didn’t belong but where intelligence could be bought—if you were ready to pay the price.

He sat at the bar, drinking a whiskey, waiting for his contact, a retired officer called Frank Miller. Frank had been member of the Rainfield Police Department until he had met encounters with Calloway’s men one too many times. Now, Frank was a shell of the man he once was, his soul hollowed out by shame and treachery.

When Frank came, he sat down without a word, his eyes darting around the room uncomfortably. He realized how deadly this chat might be.

"You're digging too deep, Carter," Frank replied gently. "If you keep going after Calloway, you'll end up like the others. Dead or worse."

Sam’s expression darkened. "What do you know about Whitley’s murder? Who's behind it?"

Frank paused, his eyes flicking toward the door as if he expected someone to be listening. "Calloway’s involved, but there’s more to it. There’s someone in the municipal administration working with him—someone higher up. The entire system’s corrupt, Carter. You can’t trust anybody."

Sam leaned closer, his voice low. "I don’t need ambiguous warnings, Frank. I need facts."

Frank took a big breath. "Whitley was striving to break away. He was preparing to expose Calloway’s practices. That’s why he’s dead. And if you keep pushing, you're going to find yourself on the wrong side of the law. The mayor, some of the police officers—you won’t know who to trust."

Sam clinched his hands. He had knew the reality was nasty, but this? This was considerably worse than he had expected. The corruption went so deep that the entire city looked to be in on it. The walls that had been constructed around Calloway’s dominion were impregnable—no one, not even Sam Carter, could tear them down.

Part Three: The Cost of Truth

The closer Sam got to finding the truth, the more the danger closed in. He got anonymous threats, his vehicle was destroyed, and his residence was broken into. But nothing discouraged him. His search for justice had become personal. Whitley’s death, his own sadness at Laura’s loss, and the weight of a corrupt system crushing down on him all combined to drive his relentless pursuit.

But it wasn’t until the night he faced Carl Donovan that the last piece of the jigsaw came into place.

Sam had suspected Donovan from the start. His links to Calloway were too evident, his aims too polished. When Sam confronted him in his office, Donovan didn’t even flinch. He already understood why Sam was there.

"You think you can expose me, Carter?" Donovan responded, his voice cool, even amused. "I’m untouchable. This city belongs to guys like me—the ones with the power, the ones with the money. And you’re simply a broken officer."

Sam’s knuckles curled around the edges of the desk. "You’re mistaken, Donovan. This city may be crooked, but it’s not beyond rescue. I’ll bring you down."

Donovan sat back in his chair, a proud smile creeping over his face. "Do you think the law is going to stop me, Sam? You’re nothing more than a tool in a game that’s already been determined."

In that instant, Sam recognized the full breadth of the web he had gotten himself caught in. Donovan wasn’t simply another dishonest politician—he was a major actor in a much wider conspiracy, one that brought Calloway’s criminal syndicate to the core of the city’s political and law enforcement structures.

The truth, Sam knew, wasn’t only about solving a murder. It was about deconstructing the whole system, a job so massive that even the concept of it seemed impossible.

But Sam couldn’t back down now. He had come too far. And the folks of Rainfield? They deserved to know the truth, no matter the cost.

The struggle for justice in Rainfield has only just started.