Room Number: 35 Resident: Egao Chan Certified SS Member Since: Jun 14, 2022 Egao Chan is an Eastern fantasy author. Check out more from Egao Chan here: https://linktr.ee/egaochan |
“The Witness"
by Egao Chan
by Egao Chan
The day had somehow turned grim and gloomy when Detective Lang and his partner Detective Manning approached the prison by the name of Ironhide. Wind howled, carrying dried leaves and slamming them on the car windows. The road was bumpy and neither of them was in a good mood. It was not just because of the weather, but also because they were here to visit an infamous convict. Not just any convict with a certain degree of notoriety, but one that used to be a detective himself.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.” After parking at a spot close to the main gate, Detective Lang slammed the driver side of the door shut and sighed: “You’re ready, newbie?”
“Yes, maybe.” Detective Manning shook his head: “Just - first time here. Of all the high security prisons…”
“Yeah.” Detective Lang shook his head as he tapped his pass at the front gate and waited for the gate to open and the guards to come: “I’d say get used to it, but even the most senior detective doesn’t come here often enough, so…”
“Detectives, welcome.” Two guards came to the gate, both in tactical vests and with guns in their hoisters. Both the guards were wearing dark sunglasses that covered their eyes. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“That’s kind of… too friendly a welcome for a prison visit.” Detective Lang joked: “But thanks.”
“We don’t get too many visitors here.” One guard helped them find their way into the inner yard of the compound, through a couple of teams of armed guards and some cleaning and custodial crew. All of them were wearing sunglasses as well.
“What’s with the glasses?” Detective Manning asked, gesturing before his eyes.
“Because we get flares sometimes.” One guard answered with a smile: “And they are kinda hard to detect beforehand, so we wear them all the time.”
“Flares? What kind of flares?” Detective Manning was more confused now.
“Just - just flares.” The guard shrugged.
“Alright here it is, our staff elevator.” The other guard stopped in front of a metal door: “You can find the warden’s office on the third floor.”
The detectives got into the elevator, and the two guards just waved them goodbye before heading back to their station. Some kind of weird feeling loomed over them, as both of them were trying to remember things they read about the convict, yet neither of them could bring them to mind.
“I can't make anything of it right now. I might have forgotten something.” Detective Lang scratched his jaw with a frown: “I - I don’t know what it is I can’t remember, I just know it’s about Vic.” Vic, or Vic Sanderson, was the convict that the detectives were there to see.
“Let’s ask the warden then.” Detective Manning also seemed to be having a hard time remembering as well, so he just rubbed his temples and shook his head: “Weird, maybe it’s the air. ”
The warden was also wearing a pair of sunglasses, a bigger pair and with a golden frame. He seemed overly cheerful for a warden locked in this gloomy prison for most of his time: “Hello, detectives, it’s wonderful to see you here.”
“Warden, what’s uh, what’s with the sunglasses?” Detective Lang asked as he took the folder handed to him by the warden, who, for some reason had the folder of files on Vic the convict ready before they came.
“Flares.” The warden chuckled: “It’s the darndest thing. If you’re ever staying here any longer, we’ll make sure you get yours as well.”
“Then - how about the inmates?” Detective Manning couldn’t help but ask: “And what the hell are flares?”
“Well, as the name suggests, flares!” The warden pointed to his left side as he rushed the detectives out of his door: “The meeting room is to your left, the guards will bring Mr. Sanderson to you. Have a good day, detectives. Hope your meeting will be fruitful.”
Both detectives were baffled when the office door slammed in their faces, it seemed the warden was quite unwilling to speak to them, or rather, he was in a rush to push them to see Vic Sanderson.
The meeting room was not that far from the warden’s office, so on their way they could only read through about three pages of Vic Sanderson’s file. He was a decorated detective, won quite a few medals of honor, helped solve one of the most horrible and notorious serial killer cases, “Heart Plunger”, but later somehow went insane and killed a whole bunch of people.
Both the detectives almost jolted off the ground when they saw Vic Sanderson: he appeared to have barely aged, and both his eyes were covered by a ring of bandage wrapped around his head. Yet somehow he was facing them, like he could actually see.
And when they entered the room, they noticed that the guards standing at each corner of the room were also wearing sunglasses that covered their eyes fully. With their heads full of confusion and concern, the detectives walked over to the table by which Vic Sanderson was sitting. Both of them intentionally lightened their footsteps, yet somehow the convict’s face followed them until they sat down.
“Detective Lang, Detective Manning. nice to see you.” Vic Sanderson’s voice was calm and gentle, warm even. “I’m sure you have questions. And if you had a chance to read my files, then you’d know my eyes were like this long ago.”
A sense of chilliness shot through both detectives, from head to toe. Detective Lang flipped through the page he just read, and right on the next laid a picture of Vic Sanderson with his eyes bandaged up like he was today. The only difference was the blood stains on the bandages where his eyes would be.
“What happened?” Detective Manning tried a couple of times and finally mustered up the strength to ask.
“I know why you’re here, detectives.” Vic Sanderson smiled then turned to Detective Lang: “Some copycat of the Heart Plungers has appeared. And there’s more than one, isn’t there? They’re senseless murderers, taking their victims’ organs and leaving behind what seems like nonhuman traces, at every crime scene.”
“How’d you know that?” Detective Lang looked around at the guards, trying to find any indications of an internal source.
“That’s not important right now.” Vic Sanderson stood up, the chains that bound his arms to the table snapped like they were made of cheap plastic. Both detectives immediately backed off, drawing their guns at him.
But the next moment, they noticed that the guards also had their guns drawn, pointing at them.
“Put them down. They’re no use here.” Vic Sanderson gestured at them with a calm but stern voice.
Neither of them wanted to, but they relented at the same time. They had no choice.
“Good.” Vic Sanderson nodded, pulling out two pairs of sunglasses with thick lenses seemingly out of thin air: “Put these on. You’ll need them.”
The ground disappeared the moment the detectives put the sunglasses on. Everyone in the room, including the guards, went into a short but slow fall. Far below them was not the interior of any building, but a floor made of bright orange lava. Rocks floated in midair, and all of them landed on one of the bigger pieces. The pungent smell and heat hit the detectives at the same time, almost making them wretch.
A lifeless creature with several irregularly shaped arms and legs was submerging into the burning pool or melted rock. Bright orange crystals embedded in the creature’s body flickered and gave out a humming sound. As the detectives watched, images flashed before their eyes, and countless voices started whispering.
They could not make much sense of neither the images nor the voices. But they could tell that the images were of the most brutal atrocities, and the voices all conveyed one message: that their lives were meaningless, their hearts and heads would be empty one day, that there would be no sense in continuing as they were.
A stream of cool and calming energy flowed from the legs of the sunglasses and into their temples and brains, and the lenses blocked the images out.
“What - what was that?” Detective Lang asked, barely able to catch his own breath.
“Flares,” Vic Sanderson shrugged. “And that thing down there is possibly a distant cousin of the Heart Plungers. It’s dead now, as you can see. But less than twenty minutes ago it was still craving flesh. Stare at the shiny parts for too long, and you may have joined them.”
“Why… uh, why show us this?” Detective Manning asked with a trembling voice.
“To show you what you’ll be dealing with.” Vic Sanderson snapped his fingers, and everyone was raised upwards back into the meeting room: “And first things first - the glasses won’t hold forever. I suggest a more… permanent solution.”
“Alright, let’s get this over with.” After parking at a spot close to the main gate, Detective Lang slammed the driver side of the door shut and sighed: “You’re ready, newbie?”
“Yes, maybe.” Detective Manning shook his head: “Just - first time here. Of all the high security prisons…”
“Yeah.” Detective Lang shook his head as he tapped his pass at the front gate and waited for the gate to open and the guards to come: “I’d say get used to it, but even the most senior detective doesn’t come here often enough, so…”
“Detectives, welcome.” Two guards came to the gate, both in tactical vests and with guns in their hoisters. Both the guards were wearing dark sunglasses that covered their eyes. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“That’s kind of… too friendly a welcome for a prison visit.” Detective Lang joked: “But thanks.”
“We don’t get too many visitors here.” One guard helped them find their way into the inner yard of the compound, through a couple of teams of armed guards and some cleaning and custodial crew. All of them were wearing sunglasses as well.
“What’s with the glasses?” Detective Manning asked, gesturing before his eyes.
“Because we get flares sometimes.” One guard answered with a smile: “And they are kinda hard to detect beforehand, so we wear them all the time.”
“Flares? What kind of flares?” Detective Manning was more confused now.
“Just - just flares.” The guard shrugged.
“Alright here it is, our staff elevator.” The other guard stopped in front of a metal door: “You can find the warden’s office on the third floor.”
The detectives got into the elevator, and the two guards just waved them goodbye before heading back to their station. Some kind of weird feeling loomed over them, as both of them were trying to remember things they read about the convict, yet neither of them could bring them to mind.
“I can't make anything of it right now. I might have forgotten something.” Detective Lang scratched his jaw with a frown: “I - I don’t know what it is I can’t remember, I just know it’s about Vic.” Vic, or Vic Sanderson, was the convict that the detectives were there to see.
“Let’s ask the warden then.” Detective Manning also seemed to be having a hard time remembering as well, so he just rubbed his temples and shook his head: “Weird, maybe it’s the air. ”
The warden was also wearing a pair of sunglasses, a bigger pair and with a golden frame. He seemed overly cheerful for a warden locked in this gloomy prison for most of his time: “Hello, detectives, it’s wonderful to see you here.”
“Warden, what’s uh, what’s with the sunglasses?” Detective Lang asked as he took the folder handed to him by the warden, who, for some reason had the folder of files on Vic the convict ready before they came.
“Flares.” The warden chuckled: “It’s the darndest thing. If you’re ever staying here any longer, we’ll make sure you get yours as well.”
“Then - how about the inmates?” Detective Manning couldn’t help but ask: “And what the hell are flares?”
“Well, as the name suggests, flares!” The warden pointed to his left side as he rushed the detectives out of his door: “The meeting room is to your left, the guards will bring Mr. Sanderson to you. Have a good day, detectives. Hope your meeting will be fruitful.”
Both detectives were baffled when the office door slammed in their faces, it seemed the warden was quite unwilling to speak to them, or rather, he was in a rush to push them to see Vic Sanderson.
The meeting room was not that far from the warden’s office, so on their way they could only read through about three pages of Vic Sanderson’s file. He was a decorated detective, won quite a few medals of honor, helped solve one of the most horrible and notorious serial killer cases, “Heart Plunger”, but later somehow went insane and killed a whole bunch of people.
Both the detectives almost jolted off the ground when they saw Vic Sanderson: he appeared to have barely aged, and both his eyes were covered by a ring of bandage wrapped around his head. Yet somehow he was facing them, like he could actually see.
And when they entered the room, they noticed that the guards standing at each corner of the room were also wearing sunglasses that covered their eyes fully. With their heads full of confusion and concern, the detectives walked over to the table by which Vic Sanderson was sitting. Both of them intentionally lightened their footsteps, yet somehow the convict’s face followed them until they sat down.
“Detective Lang, Detective Manning. nice to see you.” Vic Sanderson’s voice was calm and gentle, warm even. “I’m sure you have questions. And if you had a chance to read my files, then you’d know my eyes were like this long ago.”
A sense of chilliness shot through both detectives, from head to toe. Detective Lang flipped through the page he just read, and right on the next laid a picture of Vic Sanderson with his eyes bandaged up like he was today. The only difference was the blood stains on the bandages where his eyes would be.
“What happened?” Detective Manning tried a couple of times and finally mustered up the strength to ask.
“I know why you’re here, detectives.” Vic Sanderson smiled then turned to Detective Lang: “Some copycat of the Heart Plungers has appeared. And there’s more than one, isn’t there? They’re senseless murderers, taking their victims’ organs and leaving behind what seems like nonhuman traces, at every crime scene.”
“How’d you know that?” Detective Lang looked around at the guards, trying to find any indications of an internal source.
“That’s not important right now.” Vic Sanderson stood up, the chains that bound his arms to the table snapped like they were made of cheap plastic. Both detectives immediately backed off, drawing their guns at him.
But the next moment, they noticed that the guards also had their guns drawn, pointing at them.
“Put them down. They’re no use here.” Vic Sanderson gestured at them with a calm but stern voice.
Neither of them wanted to, but they relented at the same time. They had no choice.
“Good.” Vic Sanderson nodded, pulling out two pairs of sunglasses with thick lenses seemingly out of thin air: “Put these on. You’ll need them.”
The ground disappeared the moment the detectives put the sunglasses on. Everyone in the room, including the guards, went into a short but slow fall. Far below them was not the interior of any building, but a floor made of bright orange lava. Rocks floated in midair, and all of them landed on one of the bigger pieces. The pungent smell and heat hit the detectives at the same time, almost making them wretch.
A lifeless creature with several irregularly shaped arms and legs was submerging into the burning pool or melted rock. Bright orange crystals embedded in the creature’s body flickered and gave out a humming sound. As the detectives watched, images flashed before their eyes, and countless voices started whispering.
They could not make much sense of neither the images nor the voices. But they could tell that the images were of the most brutal atrocities, and the voices all conveyed one message: that their lives were meaningless, their hearts and heads would be empty one day, that there would be no sense in continuing as they were.
A stream of cool and calming energy flowed from the legs of the sunglasses and into their temples and brains, and the lenses blocked the images out.
“What - what was that?” Detective Lang asked, barely able to catch his own breath.
“Flares,” Vic Sanderson shrugged. “And that thing down there is possibly a distant cousin of the Heart Plungers. It’s dead now, as you can see. But less than twenty minutes ago it was still craving flesh. Stare at the shiny parts for too long, and you may have joined them.”
“Why… uh, why show us this?” Detective Manning asked with a trembling voice.
“To show you what you’ll be dealing with.” Vic Sanderson snapped his fingers, and everyone was raised upwards back into the meeting room: “And first things first - the glasses won’t hold forever. I suggest a more… permanent solution.”
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