At 07:16, as Michael made his way home, he found solace on a park bench. With closed eyes, the String coiled within him, weaving its way from arm to arm, effortlessly navigating its training routine. The strain it imposed on him surpassed yesterday's records with minimal effort on Michael's part.
"Too early to tell if the ease is actual improvement. Need time to check if each exercise's duration extended," he mused. As he contemplated, a pebble levitated over his index finger. "One hundred and eighteen, one hundred and nineteen, one hundred and twenty." With a swift retraction of the String, the pebble descended. Its stability at the exact height as the String's length surprised him. He could endure longer now, a stark contrast to yesterday's limit of seventy-two seconds.
"It's not just the training; it's too abrupt. Changes must tie to last night. Does the String's growth and my power correlate with my mental or physical state? Both? Mentally, there's the MK kiss, the fight outburst," he pondered, feeling perfectly fine despite the lingering taste of blood. "Physically—rapid heartbeat during the kiss, pain in the fight. Not impossible to test them."
Testing, however, meant finding a willing partner for a kiss and someone to thoroughly beat him for another hospital trip. Michael wasn't eager to rush into either experiment. "Is the String's growth why I'm healed? Physically stronger, purged impurities? Hospital bed stank. Mental fortitude improved? Eighty-one times eighty-one equals six thousand five hundred and sixty-one... uncertain."
A sudden vibration in his pocket interrupted his musings. "A call this early?" he wondered as he fished out his cellphone. Eric had muted it after informing Michael's parents. "No caller ID?" Michael answered, intrigued by the odd hour for a call. "Hello?"
"Michael Mir?" a man's voice on the other end inquired.
"Yes. Who's this?" Michael responded, immediately on edge.
"Mr. Mir, I'm Detective Ilmar Lois from the 98th Precinct. May I know where you are presently?"
"The police?" Detective Ilmar's mention of his occupation shifted Michael's mental gears. "Is it about the fight? Charges pressed by that guy, the club, Eric, Mac, the girls, someone from the other group?"
"I was just discharged from River Olsen's Center. On my way home on foot," he replied promptly.
"May I know where exactly?" Detective Ilmar inquired again, maintaining an even tone.
'What's it about? I can't go home now without knowing why I'm being contacted by the police. Can't sound anxious.'
"Is there a reason you're calling me, Detective Ilmar?" Michael matched the steadiness in the detective's voice. No, he wasn't copying. It came naturally. Somehow, his emotions didn't stir as his thoughts.
"Mr. Mir, it is best if we talked face to face. Can you come to the 98th Precinct? Or would you rather, in consideration for your health, I can pick you up."
"Detective Ilmar, I'd like to point out that I am the one who was assaulted-"
"It's not about the altercation, not entirely. At the moment, all I want is to talk."
"Alright. I can be at the precinct in forty to fifty minutes."
"In that case, it's better I pick you up."
'Why's he so insistent?' Michael didn't believe Mason or his friends would send corrupt cops after him. 'Did we make too much mess at the club?' He sighed. "I'm at Yoshi Park. I stopped to rest-"
"I'll be there in five minutes. Be at the northern entrance. A blue Suzuki Ciaz."
The call ended, and five minutes later…
The blue Suzuki Ciaz braked, nearly climbing the sidewalk. A window rolled down, and from within…
"Michael Mir!"
"Detective Ilmar?" Michael scrutinized the man, comparing him to the picture next to the badge. Forty-something, Middle Eastern look, large mustache, tired?
"Get in." Detective Ilmar pushed open the passenger door. Michael fastened his seatbelt, and Detective Mir drove.
"Mind answering some of my questions on the way? It'd save both of us time."
"Only if you'd answer mine. I'm quite confused. Not used to police going after the victim-"
"Mr. Mir, when did you last see Mason Nordoy, the man you had fought in The Debinger?"
"When he left me on the club's floor, holding my innards in, after he one-sidedly beat the shit out of me. Why do you need me to come to the precinct?"
"Mr. Mir, it's understandable that you don't understand the situation. Urgency compels me to make haste with the inquiries. Mr. Nordoy and his friend Neil Julian Lorik, who was also involved in the one-sided* fight, albeit in an attempt to separate you, were found dead less than two hours ago."
'Dead!' Despite the String, the supposed potential for power beyond law enforcement, Michael's composure shattered. 'Relax! You have nothing to do with it. They might have messed with someone else. Besides, I was taken straight after the fight to the hospital, so I do have an alibi... unless it was tampered with.'
Detective Ilmar's attention was divided between the road and Michael, noting the short, shocked reaction expressed in Michael's eyes and facial nerves.
"Sit yourself straight, Mr. Mir. I do not, yet, think that you're involved. I'm aware of your exact route from The Debinger to the River Olsen's Center. When you left it, the two were already dead. My previous question was to gauge your temperament."
"If you know I have nothing to do with their death-"
"Mr. Nordoy was found headless, and Mr. Lorik was found with a piece of Mr. Nordoy's skull stuck to the back of his head. Oh, entry point was the right eye."
"What the fuck!"
"My thoughts exactly."
"I didn't-"
"I'm quite certain also that you didn't kill them. Nonetheless, it's too early for us to call the fight you had before their death a 'coincidence.' How are you feeling, by the way, Mr. Mir?"
"How do you think I'm feeling?!"
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"I mean before I informed you of Mr. Nordoy and Mr. Lorik's situation, before I called you?"
"I don't know, well… for someone who got beaten and sent to a hospital. What does that have to do with anything?" Michael quickly corrected himself, to hide the fact he was more than well, actually better than yesterday morning.
Detective Ilmar weighed his words. "My concern, knowing your situation, and… the manner in which Mr. Nordoy died. I'm telling you this as a courtesy for cooperating, not that there's much to say. Preliminary investigation of the body raised questions that may be related or unrelated to you."
"Wait, if they were found around two hours ago and you're not sure about my involvement, why do you want me to come to the precinct?"
"Normal procedure. I may not think that you're related to their deaths, but without due process, I can't let you go. And in case Mr. Nordoy and Mr. Lorik were murdered, the culprit could be targeting loose ends next…"
"How am I a loose end?"
"You're the reason Mr. Nordoy and Mr. Lorik left The Debinger. Technically, later, that bite you gave Mr. Nordoy is the reason he and Mr. Lorik separated from the rest of the group. Mr. Mir, as unrelated as you seem to be, how can I convince my superiors you're not a conspirator of the culprit?"
"Alright," Michael frowned. He despised Mason, but he didn't wish him dead. 'If the police want to clear my involvement, sure…' Still, there was something that bothered him, a budding concern. 'Am I… Are you… truly unrelated?'
The String didn't answer.
…
'Is that it?' He walked inside the perimeter of the crime scene, a coated figure undisturbed by the pair of officers left to protect the area until they were done with it. The world around him was covered by hues of gray, including the officers, all but him and his.
'Two bodies? Let's see…' To pierce through The Gray, he connected the tips of his thumb and index finger and viewed through the circle. Colors well beyond the spectrum of a normal human eye lit in his right eye, a reflection of the world he was a spectator of outside the veil of The Gray. Then again, it was thanks to the world of The Gray that he did not have to deal with the police.
'Only one was assaulted by Demonic Presence.' Seeing the outline left of Mason and Neil's bodies, it wasn't difficult to guess the primary victim and how he died. 'This is a common breach in Demonic Contract,' he continued to look around. 'Venessa's predictions are subject to interpretation. She knew about the breach before it happened, which is expected of her uniqueness. I wouldn't have been the first here if I relied on sensing the disturbance, let alone waiting to hear about it. Conversely, Venessa's aware, some mere involvement with Demonic Entities won't help me. Breaches are practically useless. In this case, maybe I'm looking at it wrong?'
He parted his fingers and returned to watch the sealed grayness. 'First thing first,' he pulled a vial from an inner pocket in his trench coat. He removed the cork and spread the content, a white bone powder, all around the gray crime scene. An invisible power caused the air above the crime scene to tremble, starting violently but quickly surpassed, without alarming the oblivious law enforcement duo.
'Done. Now unless I choose to divulge the signature of the Demonic Presence, the Entity who offered the contract would remain unidentified, and It cannot breach a second time. Oh? Others are approaching. What great timing… right after I eliminated the presence. Is Venessa feeling bored…?'
He contained his aura, sealing his malice. 'Whatever. I don't have exclusivity on her predictions, and it might not be her necessarily.' He took a step, leaving the crime scene. '98th Precinct they said…'
…
10:28
Four cloaked figures materialized from swirling black fog at The Gray crime scene. "We're late," First muttered, a monotone voice cutting through the air. "The Demonic Presence also evaporated."
"As expected. But we had to follow her instructions, per the agreement," Second reasoned.
"She wanted us to miss him, despite knowing the importance of his capture to our House. I still believe that we should've convinced the Lord to attempt concealment from her Sight," Third spoke, displeased by the choice of words, detached by tone.
"Forget it. She provided the second mark's location for this reason," said First. Fourth maintained their silence. "Depart."
Not long after, individuals and groups arrived at the crime scene. Some in The Gray, others outside of it but in hiding from the officers' detection.
…
12:45
The 98th Precinct's adjacent Crime Lab.
"Tell me you have something," Detective Ilmar entered the lab with a cup of coffee. "Where's Jacob?"
Eilin and Berman shared an early lunch, homemade sandwiches. Behind them, on two tables and covered by a white sheet, lay Mason and Neil's bodies.
"Jacob went to buy food after he finished examining the victims," Eilin said.
"Then, to which of you did he shift the responsibility of explaining what he found?"
Berman exchanged looks with Eilin and set down the half-eaten sandwiches on a paper plate. Excitement to share Jacob's findings was absent from his face. "It's my displeasure to be the one to disappoint you. The blood samples we took returned normal. Of the dried blood, we also found nothing. Initially, I had a small suspicion victim No. 1 was struck repeatedly in the head by a blunt object, a mere attempt to rationalize the state of his head and inability to explain how it seemingly spontaneously exploded. The examination of the skull's bones proved this theory wrong."
"Everything proved it wrong," Eilin filled her mouth with bread, unbothered by the exposure of Mason's upper body. Angrier for the lack of results than the death of two young men, which didn't come as a surprise to either of the living men.
"There's one thing, though," Berman said, covering Mason's upper body and exposing his leg. "Eilin, would you…"
She turned the lab's light off, and Berman aimed a UV flashlight on Mason's leg.
"A blood clot…" Detective Ilmar inclined, focusing his eyes.
Barely visible, from the bite mark on Mason's leg to his neck stretched a winding, very thin and branching line.
"You brought in a suspect," Berman raised his head. "Is it, by any chance, the person that left this bite mark?"
"What's it supposed to mean, Berman?" Detective Ilmar gravely questioned back.
"God as my witness, I can only imagine… a kind of a smart nano bomb? Inserted through the wound in victim No. 1's leg that was able to navigate to his head-"
"And cause it to explode with zero residue?" Eilin turned the light on. "I hate his Sci-Fi scenario, I really do, Lois, but this type of technology isn't completely out of the question. It's just something that's kept from good ol' regular law-enforcement agencies."
"What does Jacob think?"
"He speculates that something foreign entered victim No. 1's bloodstream sometime after he was bitten. He got mad failing to find what, which is why he went for air and eat out."
"Okay," Detective Ilmar nodded. "Set aside conspiracy theories of futuristic weaponry," he took the initiative to cover Mason's leg. "I did bring the person that bit Mr. Nordoy. That good ol' young man is as normal as normal comes. History cleaner than any of the tools here earlier today. He willingly agreed to stay until I get to speak with you, but he's not detained."
"Maybe-"
"Oh, please!" Eilin cut in, interrupting Berman. "That's an even worse hypothesis. Jacob warned not to say it." He shot her a glance and attempted again. "Maybe he carries a strain of something new…"
Detective Ilmar raised a hand. "Stop. I picked him shortly after he was discharged from River Olsen's Center."
"He participated in a fight. Hospitals don't do invasive tests to treat bruises-"
"No. Eilin and Jacob are right. Unless these two start moving on their own, I won't be the one telling Sergeant Benev or Captain Galiger we're dealing with a half-assed zombie apocalypse. I'd not recommend bringing it up yourself, either. Not now, at any rate. There is a difference between a flu-like virus and one that makes heads go boom. You'll need concrete evidence to entertain them. And if before that, the press catches wind of this idea…" Detective Ilmar rubbed his neck. "Not to disrespect the dead, we'll all lose our heads, metaphorically."
"Alright. I surrender. My intention was to have the person who bit victim No. 1's leg do a blood test, not cut him open. Since the victim's blood returned clean, we can't legally coerce him."
"Neither verbally alarm him into doing a blood test," Eilin pointed out.
Berman placed the UV flashlight in its place and resumed eating his half sandwich. "That would be all from us, Detective Ilmar."
"Thank you for the hard work," Detective Ilmar turned to leave.
"And thank you for the entertainment," he chuckled, spectating from The Gray.
…
12:56
98th Precinct's Interview room
The door to the Interview room swung open, and Michael greeted Detective Ilmar with a quizzical stare.
"Thank you for being patient, Mr. Mir. You can go, for the time being."
"Why 'for the time being'? Didn't I answer all your questions? Besides the bite mark, is there any proof I did something else to that guy, Mason?"
"No. You were very helpful. Treat it as a figure of speech while the investigation's open and the culprit at large."
'At least it's not us,' Michael sighed inwardly. 'Don't think I'll have the energy… mental energy to get up from bed until the weekend is over.'
"Mr. Mir," Detective Ilmar stopped him as he crossed the threshold. "You had Mr. Nordoy's blood in your mouth. As a precaution, I'd do a blood test before going home."
"Eh, sure-"
Loud ringing echoed throughout the precinct.
"The Crime Lab is on fire!"