The Crimson Ace

Detective Lena Ward had seen her fair share of blood, but the scene in the abandoned warehouse on 5th and Mercer chilled her more than usual. A man in his late 30s lay sprawled in a pool of crimson, a joker card placed carefully on his chest. No fingerprints, no murder weapon. Only the card and the message "TWO DOWN" carved into the concrete with what appeared to be a screwdriver. The victim, Marcus Klein, was a defense attorney known for getting high-profile criminals off the hook. Lena recognized his face instantly. Two weeks ago, the same calling card was left on the body of a corrupt judge. Same message, different number: “ONE DOWN.”

Crimson Ace had already been given the name by the media. Back at the precinct, Lena spread photos across her board. She drew lines connecting the victims' connections and used red Xs to mark their faces—each had profited from the suffering of others while concealing their legal immunity. Someone was executing their own version of justice.

“Who’s number three?” she muttered to herself.

Her partner, Detective Rios, stepped into the room, holding a manila folder. "You should see this. We found traces of latex paint under Klein’s fingernails—industrial type. Same as the paint used at that old amusement park by the river. Maintenance logs show it’s been closed since 2019.”

Lena’s gut twisted. "He brought them there." By nightfall, they arrived at the amusement park. The building was decaying. The paint on the ferris wheel was peeling. The wind howled through the broken mouth of the funhouse. But amid the decay, a light flickered.

Inside the hall of mirrors, they found him.

The Crimson Ace.

He wore a black hoodie, but his face wasn’t masked. Mid-40s, calm eyes. He raised his hands slowly.

He declared, "You've arrived." “I was expecting you, Detective Ward.”

“On your knees!” Rios barked.

The man obeyed.

“I’m not here to run,” he said. Elliott Vance is my name. I’ve already sent my confession to every major news outlet. You should be getting it... now.”

Lena’s phone buzzed.

Subject: Final Card

She opened the file. Photos. Videos. There is evidence that the judge took bribes. Klein coaching criminals. All tied to a 2015 case: People v. Dawson. A young woman had been raped and murdered. The accused walked free. Vance’s daughter.

Lena spoke softly, "You lost your daughter." “I didn’t just lose her,” Vance said. “I watched the system kill her twice. Once in that alley. Once more in court. And now, I've brought balance back." Lena looked into his eyes. No madness. Just a man who had spent too many nights staring into the abyss, and finally stepped in.

“I had one more target,” Vance continued. “The man who buried the case to protect his reelection campaign.”

He turned his head toward Rios.

Silence.

Rios froze.

Lena’s heart dropped.

Vance spoke again. “He sealed the evidence. buried the testimony of the witnesses. Made sure my daughter’s case never saw the light.”

Rios' hand twitched near his weapon.

“Lena,” Vance said, voice calm. "Check the archives of the DA. Look at the witness list. Then ask Rios why a key witness disappeared a week before trial.”

She turned to Rios. “Is it true?”

He did not respond. Gun drawn, she faced him. “Put your weapon down, Rios.”

His hand lingered on his holster, then dropped.

Later, back at the precinct, Lena filed the report herself. Vance was detained. Rios was under investigation.

As she closed the case file, her phone buzzed once more. A message with no sender:

“THREE DOWN. WHO JUDGES THE JUDGES?”

She looked out at the city lights, her breath catching in her throat.

Perhaps the Crimson Ace wasn't working on his own.