The relentless heat of a New York City summer pressed down on the city like a suffocating blanket, but it wasn’t just the weather making people uneasy. Body parts—severed limbs and torsos—had begun surfacing in the Hudson River, grim evidence of a serial killer stalking the city’s underbelly. The victims were men, all gay, all taken from the West Village’s underground scene, from bars like The Eagle’s Nest, The Ramrod, and The Cock Pit. Each one had been lured away, bound, and brutally stabbed to death in dingy motels and rundown rooming houses.
Captain Edelson knew that the NYPD was facing a difficult case. The killer was meticulous, careful, blending into a world that the police force barely understood. Edelson needed someone who could move unseen through the shadows of the Meatpacking District’s secretive world of leather bars and underground S&M clubs. He turned to Officer Steve Burns. With his lean frame and dark features, Burns bore a striking resemblance to the victims. He was perfect for the role.
Burns saw the opportunity as more than just another case. It was a way to fast-track his career, to make a name for himself in the department. He took the assignment without hesitation, renting a small apartment near the district to immerse himself in the scene. His new life came with new acquaintances, including Ted Bailey, a young playwright struggling to find success and stability. Ted’s world was filled with art, ambition, and heartbreak, particularly from his possessive boyfriend, Gregory, a dancer whose jealousy often turned to rage.
As Burns delved deeper into his undercover work, his relationship with his girlfriend, Nancy, suffered. She knew he was working a case, but the details were locked away behind a wall of secrecy. The late nights, the hidden truths, and his growing closeness to Ted drove an unspoken wedge between them.
One night, Burns received a tip that led him to a suspect—a waiter named Skip Lee. The evidence was circumstantial, but the NYPD was desperate for a break. Burns’ lead prompted an aggressive interrogation. Skip was cornered, intimidated, and finally beaten in an attempt to force a confession. But when his fingerprints failed to match those found at the crime scenes, the reality of the mistake hit hard. Burns was disgusted. He hadn’t signed up for this just to see innocent people brutalized. He confronted Edelson, demanding accountability. Edelson, acknowledging the misstep, pulled back the officers responsible, but his focus remained on the killer still at large.
Despite his growing exhaustion and the moral weight of his mission, Burns pressed on. The investigation eventually led him to Columbia University, where one of the victims had once taught. Among the students was Stuart Richards, a music graduate student with a history of schizophrenia. Something about Richards unsettled Burns—his mannerisms, the way he carried himself, the quiet intensity in his gaze. Digging deeper, Burns broke into Richards’ apartment and discovered a cache of letters, all addressed to his father. Each one was filled with a simmering rage, hinting at a fractured mind that could easily turn violent.
Determined to confirm his suspicions, Burns orchestrated a meeting in Morningside Park. Posing as just another man looking for company, he carefully led Richards into a secluded area. The tension crackled in the air. When Burns made his move, asking Richards to lower his pants, the student lunged at him with a knife. But Burns was faster. His own blade found its mark, wounding Richards and allowing Burns to take him into custody. At the precinct, a simple scan of fingerprints sealed the case—Richards’ prints matched those found on one of the bodies.
For a moment, it seemed as though the nightmare was over. But then Ted Bailey’s mutilated body was discovered. The scene was grotesque, a crime of passion and rage. The police dismissed it as a lover’s quarrel turned deadly, immediately issuing a warrant for Gregory’s arrest. Burns knew better. He had seen Gregory’s jealousy firsthand, but something about the way Ted had been killed unsettled him. It didn’t fit.
In the days that followed, Burns received his reward—a promotion to detective, a return to normalcy. He moved back in with Nancy, trying to slip back into the life he had before. But the past had a way of clinging to him. As he stood before the bathroom mirror, razor in hand, stripping away the beard he had grown for the case, he caught sight of Nancy behind him. She had slipped into his leather jacket, the cap, the aviator sunglasses—the very uniform of the killer he had hunted.
His reflection stared back at him, unreadable. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, a question lingered: Had he really left that world behind, or had it left its mark on him forever?