Fuck me.

This place is an absolute shithole.

You can barely even tell this is in the same fucking city. All the brick buildings around here look rundown and old. Some of them even have wooden planks boarding up what used to be convenient stores, each word mart, fainter than the last. While graffiti is scrawled on the walls, with busted up cars. While just sitting at the edge of this little pocket of shit, is a construction site of a brand new shiny, coming soon department store. Almost like a fucking premonition of the future of a place like this.

Avenue View Apartments, huh. This place looks like the type of place someone has likely overdosed dead in. Forgotten. And only remembered when they smell. The front entrance sort of has that scent. A blood stain has sort of greeted us.

Meanwhile, no one in the leasing office even greets us. Despite the woman wearing floral printed shirts. And looking put together. They do their jobs like zombies. Just looking to get out of the literal apartment of death. Even with my abilities significantly weakened right now, Phantoms lurk in the corners.

A lot of them make homes here. Feeding off the fucking misery of Humans. Gorging themselves on their tragedy. And here they lurk. Hulking shadows doping on the negativity, feeding, until they have turned into right old nasty energies themselves. Powerful enough to affect Human devices.

And definitely powerful enough for Humans to feel them. As a Human man looks behind him, not realizing the Phantom using his misery as easy steroids.

Heading up the stairs to the third floor. This place is sad. Miserable. Every door. Every person here seems to have the life sucked right out of them. The scent of dejection. This place should be condemned. Maybe the tractors and wrecking balls across the street will do everyone a favor.

“Apartment 3-D2,” Lacie states, while we head up. She seems uncomfortable. Then again, Mortals like her don’t do well in places like this. She’s such a bright beacon of positive energy the Phantoms around here seem eager to feed on her. Her pretty little Aura. Made of wings of rainbow light. It’s been a while since the Phantoms around here have fed on something so positive. She can sense them. She may not have the Sight. But since they are so literally engorged. As they surround her. Hungry. She shudders, looking around. “This place gives me the creeps.”

The Phantoms seem to back off. Once they recognize what I am. Now some of them seem curious about why I am here. With a Mortal girl like this. Do I plan to feed on her? Probably not. I am not like them. Lazy. With simple goals and simple motivations. But they know who I am. Even in this Mortal Bond they can sense who I present.

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Passing 3-D1 I feel a charge in the air. That’s? I have physically been in contact with the Artifact before. The power behind that door. Why haven’t the other Phantoms tried to slip in and take the Pen for themselves? Are they all that stupid and lazy?

“Did they call it in?” I ask pointing to the door.

Lacie looks over, “Someone on the floor did.”

I nod, “I am just going to ask a few questions.” That seems Mortal Enforcer enough.

Fuck Eras. Once I get my hand on the Pen, he’s going to regret throwing me down here. In this Mortal Bond. Kill the Mortal. Take the Pen. This feels relatively too easy. Almost convenient. Has Eras constructed this entire thing? Did he know about events to come? Prick.

Knocking on the door. Asshole. When I am done here. I am going to make him regret putting me in this Mortal Bond. I just have to figure a way back to the Realms somehow.

The door opens. It’s answered by a woman.

Well, this is very fucking interesting.

Her Aura is blooming of dark purples and reds, a beautiful blackish, purple, rose. She smiles warmly at me, pushing back her wavy hair behind her ears while adjusting her round glasses. This woman is dangerous. That gesture was entirely ungenuine. She comes off meek, but that’s really all a lie.

“Can I help you, officer?” she asks softly.

“I wanted to get a statement,” I tell her, “About the suicide next door.”

“That would be my son and his friend. His friend went home, however, he wasn’t feeling well. I hope that isn’t a problem,” she tells me. She’s very good at pretending. Isn’t she? “I can get my son. But only if he’s comfortable handing a statement.”

She gestures for me to walk in. There were so many Phantoms before. Around, clinging on walls, wandering hallways. Entering rooms. But this place seems relatively clean.

Well, besides the Artifact being around. I can sense it down the hall. She smiles, wordlessly asking for a moment as she wanders down the hall to knock on the door, “Quentin, there is an officer here who would like to speak with you.”

I wonder what toxic spawn this woman has manifested. Or maybe she birthed a meek child that she could control. The door opens gingerly. I am not sure if I am looking at a boy or a girl. Though I suppose that’s more of the traditional way. Some punk looking kid, with straight black hair.

What she created is an abomination, staring back at me. Deadness. Avoid of all emotion in his brown, nearly black eyes. He smiles, but it comes off sinister. While his Aura flickers. On and off. Like the flame of a candle.

Now what do you do Trista? Just pretend not to notice.

“I just had a few questions,” I tell him with a smile.

He doesn’t seem impressed.

“Of course officer,”

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t deal with kids like this. Hard to bend. Hard to break. But I have to try. Especially since I believe the Artifact is in his room. He shifts his attention behind him. Then back at me. I am going to have to try.

“Can I get your name?” I ask him.

“Quentin Klaus, though I go by Quinn,” he tells me politely.

“Nice name, can we talk in the hallway?” I look over at the woman. Then back at Quinn. Quinn looks behind him, then back at me. He nods gingerly.

“I don’t know much, but I will do my best to help,” he’s just faking Human, isn’t he?