Rian had no idea that he'd already gone fully viral back home—and that his relationships with Taylor and Olsen were on the verge of being exposed.
Right now, he was back at the LAPD headquarters, summoned once again.
In front of him sat three figures:
— Detective Division's legendary investigator: David— FBI Field Operations Director: Samuel— DEA Tactical Operations Commander: Thomas
All three had gathered for one reason: the Blood Revolver incident.
According to on-site forensic reports, aside from the dozens of cartel corpses, only one set of tracks was found at the scene.
One man's traces.
Plenty of footprints, but no biological evidence. No blood, hair, saliva—nothing useful.
Someone had soloed an entire cartel—wiping out one of L.A.'s most infamous drug rings single-handedly.
It was a feat that defied reason.
And to make it stranger—Blood Revolver wasn't even top-tier. On the national level, they didn't even crack the top 100 of the U.S. drug syndicates list.
Which made this mystery attacker even more terrifying.
Meanwhile, Rian had already made headlines for taking down ten cartel members by himself. And he'd walked away without a scratch.
Plus, Rian had previously reported being followed. That very surveillance vehicle? Found later in Blood Revolver's underground garage.
It had been burned beyond recognition, but the frame number confirmed the license plate.
Timeline?
First, the cartel tailed Rian .Then, hours later, the entire organization was eradicated.And Rian —already known for exceptional combat performance—was still standing.
Naturally, suspicion fell his way.
But sitting across from the trio, Rian wore a calm, relaxed expression.
He knew exactly who these three were—experts in psychological profiling and micro-expression analysis. They could sniff out deception from a heartbeat.
But Rian didn't flinch. He wasn't hiding anything he couldn't afford to.
Thomas took the lead.
"Rian , where were you between 4 and 5 p.m. yesterday?"
The DEA was spearheading this case—not just because it involved narcotics, but because one of their own undercover agents had also been killed.
Taking out Blood Revolver was one thing. But when a DEA asset dies? That becomes personal.
"I was having coffee," Rian replied smoothly.
"With whom?"
"Alone."
"Location?"
Rian gave the address.
David narrowed his eyes.
"You've been staying at the Taylor estate in Bel-Air these past few days. Why go back to your old apartment alone to drink coffee?"
He stared intensely, watching Rian 's every twitch and blink—looking for cracks.
His instincts screamed that Rian was involved.
But Rian simply shrugged.
"After I noticed I was being followed, I got out of the car and waited. The tail didn't leave until the support team from the station showed up."
"I went back to my rental to see if they'd circle back. Sat there alone. Drank coffee for an hour. No sign of them."
"I figured after I filed the report, they got spooked and backed off. So I returned to Bel-Air—place has top-tier security. Better to sleep without watching my back."
He spoke the truth—just carefully omitted the part about using a clone.
And David… found no fault in his words.
Could it really have nothing to do with him?
But my gut's never wrong. Half the reason I earned the 'Legendary Detective' title is my intuition.
Sh*t… what if he has a clone or something?
David had no idea—his offhand suspicion had actually hit the nail right on the head.
Meanwhile, Samuel and Thomas exchanged a glance.
They'd had their suspicions the day before. They'd already investigated Rian 's movements thoroughly.
And everything Rian said? Checked out.
At the exact time Blood Revolver was slaughtered, Rian was sipping coffee—on camera—in a local café. The surveillance footage was crystal clear.
He didn't even leave for the bathroom. Just sat and casually flipped through a magazine.
To them, it was obvious—Rian had let himself be followed, lured the threat in, and planned to finish it cleanly.
But then someone else beat him to it.
Someone wiped out the cartel before Rian could act.
And what truly unsettled them?
According to neighborhood canvassing, not a single resident had heard anything unusual during the massacre.
No screams. No gunfire. No explosions.
Yet forensic reports confirmed a rocket launcher and a Claymore mine had been used.
Those weren't "quiet" weapons.
How did a full-on explosion happen in a residential zone… without anyone hearing it?
One theory floated around: the surrounding area was so saturated by toxic smoke that memory and perception had been compromised.
Their conclusion?
Rian had a rock-solid alibi.
This interrogation was just procedure—a final formality to cross his name off the list.
Even David, who remained convinced Rian was the key, couldn't find a single flaw in his answers or demeanor.
The interview wrapped up quickly.
But as they stood, David paused.
"Rian … would you be interested in joining the task force?"
The mayor had personally ordered a multi-agency special task force to investigate the Blood Revolver incident. The scale and public impact of the case—especially the drug smoke incident—had rocked the nation.
Rian looked at David, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.