He flexed his fingers, sore after hours of furious typing, staring outside at the rainy street of his quiet neighborhood. He was really on to something with this story, he could feel it. He turned back to his work, typing out the next sentence when he heard the shrill sound of a phone, only it wasn’t his phone. He turned, shocked when he saw the room had changed. Instead of his house he was sitting in a cramped apartment room, old photos in black and white hanging on the grey walls. It was still raining, but the view outside had changed from a suburban street to a city skyline. The phone rang again, and he answered hesitantly.

“H-hello?”

“Good, ya finally answered. ‘Bout time. We need ya at 31st Street, we got another one.”

“Another one?” He questioned. The man on the line sighed.

“Yep. Another body. Pretty bad, too. Get over ‘ere.” With a click the call ended, and he set the receiver down. A body? This all felt oddly familiar. He strutted to the door, pulling on an old trench coat before stepping out. He arrived quickly at the crime scene, an alleyway full of police. He found a badge in his coat pocket and flashed it, being allowed through to the body. It was a young woman, skin ashen and eyes glassy, laying in a puddle of blood. He got a feeling of deja vu by looking at her, but was snapped out of it by a man coming up to him.

“There ya are! Took ya damn time gettin’ ‘ere. Looks like we’ll be needin’ another Chicago overcoat, huh?” The man said loudly in the same voice as the man on the phone. He nodded, not fully understanding what the guy had said.

“Guess so. What happened?” The man, his badge said his name was Oliver, pulled out a cigarette.

“Eh, same as every other. Stabbed multiple times an left fer dead.” That sounded... familiar.

“The killer?” He asked hesitantly. Oliver took a drag.

“All wet. Ran off into the night like always. There was a witness, but he wasn’t wearing his glasses when he looked out so he couldn’t tell us much. So what’d ya make of it, Dick?” Oh no, he realized why this was all so familiar. This was the plot of the story he was writing! The one he hadn’t finished yet! He didn’t know how it ended or who the killer was, or even how the detective found them! And even worse, it seemed he was in the shoes of the main character. Oliver nudged him. He cleared his throat.

“Is...the murder weapon here?” Oliver shrugged.

“Still lookin’ fer it. Be mighty useful if we find it.”

“Right. Let me take a look around.” Oliver nodded, saying something about talking to the ‘Coppers’. He took a deep breath. Somehow he knew the only way out of here was to catch the killer, so that’s just what he’d do....