Me and Walker strolled through the public hallway of this police station, taking turns in starting a conversation with each other, “so,” I started, breaking away from our silence, “you are going to leave a buddy hanging without a cigar?” I asked him, making him chuckle. “Why didn’t you ask sooner? Here,” Walker handed me a pack of cigar from his pockets, graciously handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I took it, looking at the small box in awe, wondering how much it cost, but I would be too embarrassed to ask, “where did you get these anyway? Encase if I um, ran out of them that is,” I add quickly. He shrugged, “you can get them in any other retail convenience stores or gas stations around here,” he answered, gesturing his thumb over his shoulder, “but, the one I got them from was a bit more expensive.”
“Ah, so they are pricey,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment, “I guess, but why do you smoke them then? Are you rich?”
He smirks and shakes his head, “no, not really. I just enjoy smoking cigars every now and again,” he replies while puffing on his cigar, taking a long drag, exhaling smoke into the air, “the pack I gave you lasts longer when you use them,” he says with a smirk, if he was challenging me to try it out.
“You sure? They look pretty fragile to me.” I reply, inspecting the packaging closely, wondering if they could even withstand the abuse of being dropped, stepped on, or whatever else, “look like any ordinary pack of cigar other than some fancy design to it.”
“Yeah, but they are the best kind you can find in this city,” he adds with a smile, “they are made from the finest tobacco grown by one of the highest quality tobaccos, they also have a sweet taste that makes them unique and worth every penny you spend on it,” Walker answers, showing off his knowledge of cigars.
We continued our talk about cigars, chatting away while putting the new pack of cigars inside one of my pockets. As we reached a door marked ‘High Officials Only’ and entered inside the room, “here,” Walker said, pointing at an obscured figure sitting behind a large desk with many large piles of papers over it, “that is your guy,” he pointed out behind the dozens of papers that were obscuring him.
The figure stood straight, slowly and casually walked around his table towards us, walking past the stacks of paper. To my surprise, the person he is referring to isn’t person nor man, but humanoid mouse in fancy long coat and top hat with walking cane in hand as he approached closer to us with a curious gaze, “Mr. Adam?” He asked, taking note of the fact that I am now a police detective.
I could not help but gawk from my shock. It is rare for mutants to take part in society due to how the public fears and despise them, which is why most mutants live on their own or in isolated places away from others. But here he stands before me, an anomaly who is trying to make a difference in this world, even though it may be hard for him to do so.
“You…you are mutant?” I ask, feeling myself with sweat as the reality of what I just saw sets in, “how the hell are you able to a job? Mutants are-“
“They are despised and hated by the public. But luckily for you and me, I am one of those few mutants who have accepted me.” The mouse replies calmly, staring at me with his bright brown eyes, “I will tell you a secret,” he said to me, “not many know about this but there is a small group within the city’s government that has been working secretly to protect and give rights to mutants like me, so we can survive in the big bad world without being discriminated against,” he continues with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“What the hell?” I gasp, still having trouble believing what I am hearing, “this is a lot of take in. I mean, my dad was mutant too but to see another of his kind with my own two eyes is a bit…” I trailed off, unable to find the right words to say.
The man nods, smiling warmly, “I understand Adam. You must be startled seeing me in front of you. But believe me when I tell you that your father would be proud if he were alive today,” mentioning my father makes me feel strange as this mouse guy knows each other.
Just how many secrets is dad hiding from me?
“Can we take a sit and continue this conversation at the table?” I ask, gesturing to the chairs across us near his occupied desk, feeling suddenly nervous and anxious from this revelation. The mouse nodded, “sure.” He replied, taking the seat opposite me before moving aside the papers. The three sat down in silence for some time, before he broke it by speaking up again, “what manner of questions do you ask of me Adam?”
A lot little mouse, I thought, staring back at him. My thoughts drift towards what sort of answer I should give. As I look around the office, I realize just how much effort went into making this place so perfect.
The room is decorated in a way that feels cozy and homey. It is furnished with a couch at the corner, desk, filing cabinets, bookshelves filled with old and new novels and even a painting on one of the walls. This mouse is like he is some from the Victorian era or something.
“What is your name and how do you guys know me so much?” I asked curiously, trying to get more information out of them. His smile faded away when he looked at me, “it is not important who we are Adam,” he said, his voice low enough for only me to hear, “as long as you trust us and let us help you, we will find the people responsible for your friends and father’s deaths. But to answer your first question, my name is Mervin, Mervin The Mouse at your service,” the mouse explained while introducing himself.
I am about to say something sarcastic but I stopped myself from saying anything, looking up at him, “how do you know my dad?” I ask, curious why this man knew my dad. Is there some connection between them?
The mouse, Mervin, sighs heavily as if he was deeply saddened by the death of his friend and colleague. He looked down for a moment before raising his eyes back to me again, “he is an old friend of mine,” he said, sounding sad and nostalgic, “I used to work in his hospital when you were still a young boy, Adam. The man was kind to everyone equally, even those xenophobic human patients that treated him with disdain. Your father never had any real enemies, neither did I,” the mouse sighed sadly once more as if remembering something terrible from the past.
My heart ached hearing all these things about my dad. I am glad that someone outside the facility cares about him, but concurrently; it hurts to know the truth that he is dead. My thoughts drift towards what could have happened to him and how his death came to be.
“Now what? We are just going to let those dead go to waste?” I questioned Mervin, feeling like we should take action rather than just sit here and wait for something to happen. He smiles softly at me, “we cannot exactly do much about the corpses, all of them have turned to skeleton so funereal is impossible as we are unable to identify who they were,” he explains calmly, “but we might be the people responsible for their deaths.”
“How would you know this?” I asked curiously as Mervin tilts his head slightly in confusion, looking at me with curiosity, “how else? We both know that it was caused by a supernatural entity who is linked to infamous unknown cults,” the mouse explained as he leans forward on the table, “but that is all we know so far while the police still have not caught up with them yet. But if there is a possibility of getting more information, then I will investigate further into it,” he sadly shook his head, in disappointment.
How about me? I can take part in this investigation even though Walker denied my request earlier to join him in investigating that particular case.
“How come I cannot take part in that case?” I asked Mervin, feeling disappointed by his answer because he wanted me to focus on other cases. Perhaps he would allow me to help me in this matter but it appears like he has no interest whatsoever.
Mervin shakes his head and looks down for a moment before replying, “I know that you want to avenge their deaths,” he explains, sounding worried, “however, it is already occupied by many detectives from different stations houses and revealing yourself to the public can draw unwanted attention,” he tells me, which is understandable. I do agree with him in some sense.
“Alright,” I nod, “putting aside this subject, what is this task you are going to send me on?” Mervin unexpectedly stood up, walking next to the pile of papers before taking one out as he places it down on the desk, its paper facing towards me, “this is your assignment, Adam.” He then sat on his chair, handing me the paper. I stared at it, confused by what he meant until I read the contents of the paper. It read about a grandma named Shelly, who was reported to have been brutally killed in her home.
What could this be? A simple case or something else entirely?
The worst part of it is how much detail of this report in explaining the victim’s injuries; I am almost convinced that she had been attacked by an unknown assailant. It is not uncommon to see cases involving grannies being assaulted due to their weak physical ability compared to young men and women. However, something stand out as odd for me to make me question my initial assumptions. Why would anyone bother assaulting a frail old lady like this? I am sure that they were after money or valuables inside the house, but when I look at the picture of her corpse in the bottom of the page…
“Jesus Christ, why did I have to get involved in such things…” I mutter under my breath as I read through the rest of the details, only to find more information that is just too gruesome for person robbing her home. The old woman had her face torn off completely, with her ripcage wide open and her innards spilled out onto the floor. Her hands and feet were also missing. This was beyond disgusting.
What sick mind does this?
As I focused my attention inside the opened ripcage, where her heart is supposed to be located; it had nothing but strange and bloody tiny red sigil that is very difficult to see due to all the blood inside, except for one thing. It was a symbol of a triangle surrounded by a circle within another triangle which resembles an eye, a pentagram, a six-pointed star or even a hexagon depending on how a person wants to interpret it, which made me think that whoever did this is either an insane occult murderer or demon haunting the place.
Worst case scenario, demon is responsible for this heinous act.
“Interesting, based on the picture alone; there are well-hidden demonic sigil in the old woman’s opened ribcage,” I explained to Mervin and Walker, their eyes widened at what they just heard. “I cannot tell if these symbols hold any significance, but the fact that someone is crazy enough to do this leads to two choices. Either an insane killer occultist has done this or a demon is haunting her home. But my gut is telling me that it is the latter.”
Silence lingered around us as we contemplate the matter. Finally, Walker broke the silence with his words.
“Dammit, this is why no one dared to investigate this case,” he said in a low voice. “This should be taken care of immediately before anyone else gets hurt.” Mervin nodded along with him and I could see both were seriously concerned about this case.
“So what is the plan? If this is a demon, then how the fuck can we kill or even exorcise it?” I asked while scratching my head, “unless you brought a priest to handle it then it is beyond our expertise in dealing with stuff like that.”
Mervin, on the other hand, disagreed with my take, “no Adam, you are wrong. That is why we wanted you to solve this case.”
What? Is he insane? How the hell do I defeat something that is not even human?
“By how exactly?” I asked in disbelief.
Mervin stared at me blankly for a moment before replying, “persuading it to leave.” The answer made me laugh out loud as he looked confused by my reaction.
“Wait, you are serious?” I stopped my laughter after seeing his confused expression, detailing that he was not joking nor making fun of me. “Alright, so let us say I agree with your suggestion. How am I supposed to find and speak with it?”
“That is the easy part,” Mervin said while tapping his chin, “you have to figure it out yourself.”
What?
