Page 42 of Wrong Girl

He turned his attention to the laptop screen, where he had pulled up additional coverage from various news sources. The FBI agents who had captured Diana were being hailed as heroes. Dr. Miles Sterling, a forensic toxicologist, and Special Agent Victoria Stone had apparently put together the pieces that led them to Diana's door. He had made mental notes about both names. It would be wise to keep track of individuals who showed such investigative insight.

But what pleased him most was what the articles didn't contain. There had not been any mention of connections to other element-based murders in other cities. Diana had taken her secrets to the grave, just as he had trained her to do. The authorities remained blind to the larger pattern, the grand design that connected dozens of seemingly unrelated deaths across the country.

Rising from his chair, the man walked to one of the bookshelves and withdrew a leather-bound journal. He opened it to a page marked with a gold ribbon and began writing in precise, careful script:

"Diana Hartwell - Gold (Au) - Mission Complete. Subject maintained operational security through capture and termination. San Francisco cleansed of four corruption vectors.Local authorities remain unaware of broader scope. Agent Sterling shows concerning pattern recognition abilities - monitor future activities."

He set down his pen and turned to a map mounted on the wall beside the bookshelf. Red pins marked locations across the United States—Seattle, Denver, Boston, Atlanta, Phoenix, and now San Francisco. Each pin represented a completed mission, a corrupted soul cleansed from the earth by the pure application of elemental justice.

He studied the map with the satisfaction of a general surveying conquered territory. Each city had been carefully selected, each target meticulously researched, each acolyte perfectly matched to their assigned element. The work was proceeding exactly as he had envisioned when he first conceived of this grand undertaking.

It had taken years to identify and recruit the right individuals—brilliant but damaged souls who shared his vision of a world poisoned by human greed and corruption. Diana had been one of his finest students, her anger at corporate exploitation perfectly channeled into righteous purpose. Her family's destruction at the hands of development interests had provided the personal motivation necessary to sustain her through months of preparation.

But Diana was just one voice in a much larger chorus. Across the country, other acolytes waited for their turn to serve. Each had been carefully selected for their unique combination of scientific knowledge, personal grievance, and fanatical devotion to the cause. Each would add their own element to the grand design.

The man who called himself the Elementalist returned to his chair and opened the laptop to a secure communication platform he had designed himself. Several encrypted messages waited in his inbox, but only one interested him at the moment.The sender's identifier was simply "DC-6," and the message contained a single line: "Awaiting instructions."

The Elementalist smiled. His young protégé in Washington, D.C. had been patient, spending months studying his assigned targets and perfecting his techniques. The young man's eagerness was almost palpable even through the encrypted text, his hunger to join the crusade against the natural order's corruption evident in every communication.

Soon, it would be time to activate the next phase, and another group of parasites would face the justice they so richly deserved. The young man had shown remarkable aptitude during his training, demonstrating both the scientific acumen and moral conviction necessary for the work ahead.

The Elementalist began composing his response, just as he had many times over the years. Each word was chosen carefully, each instruction precise and unambiguous. There could be no room for error, no chance of misunderstanding. The work was too important to be left to chance.

As he typed, the Elementalist reflected on the beautiful symmetry of his design. Each element told a story, revealed a truth about the corruption that infected human society. Diana's gold had exposed the toxic nature of greed, the way the pursuit of wealth suffocated everything noble in the human spirit. The next element would reveal different truths about different corruptions, but the message would be equally clear.

Humanity had forgotten its place in the natural order. It had allowed artificial constructs like money and power to override the fundamental laws that governed all existence. The periodic table represented pure truth—the basic building blocks of reality, uncorrupted by human interpretation or manipulation.

Through his acolytes, the Elementalist would remind the world of these truths. One element at a time, one corrupted soul at a time, until the balance was restored.

He finished his message to Washington and sent it into the encrypted darkness of the internet. Somewhere in that distant city, a young man would soon receive his activation orders and begin the sacred work of elemental justice.

And the world would learn, one death at a time, what happened when humanity forgot its place in the natural order.