9 Days Before
P.4

Vem, inside the attic can hear the ghost of lingering footsteps down below. Its echo entices him to push himself further into the darkest corner of this dimly lit space.

The small window casting rays on the hard wooden floor plasters a vibrant screen, having nearby shadows of branches puppeteering within its small frame.

Tap tap tap.

Vem hears them again, following along the silent conversation down below. He can hear a lot up here like a megaphone: Every sound intensifies, having the faintest of sounds being rearranged to the highest of tones.

Thud thud. The other guard responds to his partner's tapping.

The other partners' response seems to be on the lower level still, right at the edge of the stairs it sounds like. he pieces it together inside his head, visualizing it.

Thud — Another singular foot placement.

The shadow of the tree shivers, making a rumbling static outside the walls. Its movement brings Vems' gaze to the window.

There's a moment of weakness, a moment where he sees a silhouette of a figure standing on a large branch staring right back at him.

An ominous fatigue settles on the back of his neck, This feels off—way off in fact that it's bringing him back to the very first day, with what he saw before his door got violently slammed shut.

Movement within the house dropped silent, not even the guards' pitter patter of communication can be heard.

Faint goosebumps polka-dotted across his cheeks making the edging of his beard stand tall, then it moved around the surface of his eyelids forming up and over them, with the feeling meeting between his eyebrows.

Having the Silhouette still standing on the branch, motionless in a gaze.

Within the motionless time, Vem gives in and tears his gaze away, trying to hear or sense the presence of the guards down below. However it might make him reconsider as his vision looks at the window, the frozen frame of the glass spells out a language unknown. Although it's unknown to Vem, his heart begins to race.

The spelling on the window vanishes with the cold breeze of the wind, vanquishing it away with frozen fingers of frost.

His senses begin to dull — Sight begins to fade within his peripherals. The dusted light beaming from the window tinges with a different hue. It's a ray of thick sheeted nothingness, yet with the little vision he has left he could still see that this beam is still emitting shadows within its body.

These shadows were the reflection of 'real-time' lighting, the same color/ the same realistic tone of staring into an open flame. It's as if the shadow and objects switch places with one another.

With the only realistic reflection of the world being the moonlit screen on the attic floor.

[I don't see anyone up here…] a faint voice echoed into existence.

[Didn't you say you heard movement up here?] It occurred again. The voices are in the attic, but it sounds like it's coming from outside the house.

An echo of footsteps stops on Vems' location.

[I feel the creeps just being up here..]

A ghastly noise ricocheted inside the attic with a slight humming co-existing with it. Vems' neck hair sparks. The familiar gooseflesh appeared, confirming to the one he felt that rainy day.

[What was that just now…?]

[ I didn't hear anything, might just be your senses toying with you. ]

Vem glimpses at the windows glowing reflection plastered on the floor, seeing within it. He takes the gaze and turns it into a dedicated focus, seeing something being written on the window. He peers up and sees nothing.

He looks at the reflection again and the writing halts. "Look up" it says and the writing vanishes again to only begin once more.

[Are you seeing this!?] The guards echos persisted, trying to get their partner's reaction to the writing being formulated on the cold glass.

Vems' curiosity reeled him into the printed writing, and looked up, seeing the two guardsmen.

[I'm not seeing anything]

[You don't see the writing?]

[No, all I see is frost.]

The two argue above Vem, seemingly lost in transmission to get one another to see that is, or that is not.

Before they could reiterate one another, tapping begins on the lower level.

[Did you hear that or was it just me again?] The guard with the brown-ish uniform had said.

The partner agrees, looking at each other. [Did you call in for reinforcements?]

[No.]

[Do you think it's the corporate? ] as the guard finished his sentence the tapping became rattling, sizzling up the stairs. The walls began to creak with the tension of sudden wind.

[Do you feel that?] Guard A had spoken, bubbled skin formulating across his back, making him shiver.

[Yeah…] The other guard responds slowly.

[We better go-] they get cut-off by the echoing rattle within the lower floor of the attic; In the shadowed space where the detective lies, he sees the two guards flail their swords out from their sheath in panic.

The uneasy feeling happens again, his stomach twists in knots.

[Turn the gauge on----] interruption seeps in again and everything goes silent.

The mirrored flooring where Vem could see the two turns dark, yet still seeing their silhouette of kind readying into stances, having their backs pressing up against each other.

The sizzling crouches up the steps, within each step it becomes a mockery of individuals tapping against a hollow wall.

Each motion captures the guardsman's attention, making their grip seemingly impossible to tear off from their handles. Sweat formulating on their palms, creating the tension between hand and handle to loosen.

Droplet of sweat races to the floor, freezing in mid fall—shattering upon impact. Vem sees the shattering happen, formulating a broken / Tilted circle. Simulating a vessel that he once saw in a blueprint that he dug through during his investigations.

With the shattered remains of the droplet, the echo room above Vem, turns to abyss, an engulfing darkness that the silhouettes can't escape.

Leaving him all alone with the moonlit screen of the window, shadowing the real world within the frame.

The sound in this place is a deafening one, a type of silence where he could hear his own heartbeat drumming, and his blood flowing through his very veins.

A silence where it'll make anyone in this circumstance go mad; pulling one's hair out and dropping into a beetle position, but he doesn't bow into one, nor does he give into it.

Vem sits there, awaiting for anything to occur.

He replaces the maddening sounds with thoughts.

Thinking of different ways this investigation could have gone, Allowing himself to have a glimpse of relaxation; maybe he could have taken a different route, rather than going into this house to escape the cold.

Relaxation drifts as he ponders on his recent activities during the investigation, it all started with storms and power outages, now, it's a full on out-of-your-mind experience.

Such as the house he entered and saw horrific outcomes in, if he was in his right mind he would have stopped this entire investigation, but he didn't---- curiosity in the unknown is what drove him.

Now he seems trapped in an endless void with a figment as company.

With these thoughts, he still believes that this job, being a private investigator, is right for him.

Who would have known that this job would've taken him here amongst all places, places where he couldn't even dream of, but that has changed.

When he first started this job he was chasing all kinds of works, from blackmail to thievery.

None of those jobs measured to this one, not by a long shot, by any shot in that manner. This one isn't even being paid for, he's just doing this one out of his own fruition; it is being paid for in other ways, however.

It's being paid out of knowledge, not any type of knowledge either, a type of knowledge one couldn't get out of college, or just by working a new job that you're getting ready to deep dive into.

This knowledge would be like replaceing gold, or even oil in your backyard, however it wouldn't pay the bills like gold or oil would; he's convinced that maybe after the fact it would.

Vem shifts his weight towards the luminous frame, still seeing branches dance within it. Bringing him more questions he wishes the answers for.

Forwarding the thoughts to the figure he saw, was it the tipper, no, it couldn't be.

It was something far more serious than the anonymous tipper that led the tower's guards to him.

The fact that the silhouette was nothing but a shadow, or the fact that it brought the unwary familiar goose-flesh he felt that night; it was that…thing, just a thing? Is that all he could best describe it with, a thing? No, it's a person rather than a 'thi'

Would a person bring that much terror?

The attic's wooden floor speaks with a creek.

"Hello, Vem…"

…….

{●}

Octavia's vision is slurred by the vacancy of light within the room, her ears buzzing from the lack of noise, she heard blood-curdling screams a moment ago, but nothing now.

She takes a step forward, feeling the room around her by using the tip of her toe. Guiding her way through the darkness.

Her foot makes a thud as it gets met with an unstoppable object, sounds bounce within the room and enters her eardrums, ringing it with a squish.

Octavia's heart drops, imagining the outcome her foot had made, taking in images of a dead body.

Her blind eyes darted around her skull, taking in imaginary images, wondering what's the next move.

Remembering training, she does a slow inhale, bringing the scent of blood to fill her nostrils. With the scent, flashes of imagery of what she imagined about a dead body formulates to the front of her vortex.

"Shit" she whispers to herself, Octavia turns herself around, seeing no ambient light inside the hallway. The empty light surrounded her, she did another big inhale to her lungs.

This time she can feel the taste of iron that blood gives, laid out onto her tongue like a steak being flattened on a plate.

Her guiding foot inches in another direction, making it halt on another foreign object. "Shit" she flailed out as she sprawls backwards, tripping and falling right on her rear—the sword clinking onto the floor from the fall.

Inside the emptiness, she feels an unknown presence–like if something is off, senses on how an individual can tell if someone new enters a space.

The smell around her changes into a dry-mold.

Clanking of metal and wood signals her movement within the vacant space, an urge swallows up to her throat, letting it out she croaks "hello..?" Following a thought. Why did I just say that…

A broad silence follows throughout the room before it gets abruptly replaced with a sound of a cold voice. "Hello, Octavia…" the cold voice rings a familiar tone.

Octavia's gaze tries to narrow down where the voice is originating, before her eyes meet with the source, it's guided by a born open flame.

The faint glow wisping to life, its vibrant warm light basking a face that Octavia wishes she hadn't seen.

It was herself. She backed away into the endless dark, clanking of the sword disturbs their eardrums as she crawls back.

Getting up, she fights the urge of confused-fear.

"What's the matter, Octavia?" Herself had said, it's cold sharp drawing daggers within her name. "Don't use my name…Don't use my face" She managed to make out, her grip tightening on the sword. "You're not me!" Yelling out into the darkness after the candle wick slices out.

"What's the matter, Octavia" they say repeatedly, its voice beginning to tear into her accompanied with goose-flesh crawling over her ears, she could feel it going down into the eardrums.

She lets out a yelp as the goosebumps hits them, an unfamiliar sense of feeling blankets them, making the sound of her own being silenced.

Flame being opened once more---it's not her own that she sees this time, it's a shadowed face. Their facial features being hidden with a sheet of darkness, the born flame doing nothing to uncover the veil.

The goose-flesh exits her ears, traveling down the earlobes and onto her cheeks as the figure approaches.

With odd vibrations that she could feel from the goose-flesh, translating to series of words that is unintelligible for Octavia, yet imagery flashes behind her closed eyelids, showing her a clip of jagged teeth protruding out from torn charcoal flesh, its darkened blood drawing rivers on its enamel.

She kicks the figure's chest, pushing it onto the floor, grabbing her sword that fell from lack of strength during the fright and drives it through its chest, the figure seems to be unphased by the puncture.

With a shift of movement, the blade yanks out---black blood spews onto the floor.

Light returns into the room and Octavia is standing in the room, alone with her blade that's tightened fast in her hand.

Her expression is stale, then turns into anger as she sweeps the floor with her gaze seeing just a plain empty room, with a sudden phrase shadowing her mind.

She shakes the phrase away, not knowing why those words echoed her mind, she turns towards the door seeing how she had left it and exits the room, going down the stairs seeing the guards she had defeated.

Octavia leaves the house with a new sense of feeling and a new sword, hurling away towards the orphanage, having Korith and Vem in mind as she cycles around the blocks before she checks up on her loved ones.

{●}

Korith makes her way through the snow, following the buzzing that's guiding the way towards the person who she needs to see.

[Over here] it beacons towards a building, following another buzz of the guide, Korith enters the building.

Its layout looks more abandoned than the building's frame outside, she crouches down a fallen obstacle, then hurls herself up, placing one hand on a little place where the guiding light buzzed.

After the hurl, she darts towards the guiding lights direction and sees a statue piece. "What do I do" she had asked the static lights advice, upon request–the light dims and flashes boil inside her mind. Telling her to rearrange the pieces she sees within.

The first statue piece is a horrid looking sculpture that rearranges into something beautiful.

Leaving her a new sense of taste in art, she does the final touches and the piece clicks.

A hidden wall opens up and she steps inside, the hum circles around her and darts further into the room.

{●}

Clysita weaves a sigh as two more strangers make her way into their mist, first it was a young-lady that dragged in a suspicious teenage-boy into their first hide-out, who, after they looked after got caught by Towers guards from escaping 'The Screech' going from hide-out-A to hide-out-B.

If they didn't know any better, they would have been caught with the rest of them. Clysita isn't one to help stragglers, the only one on her team that would've helped was off doing undercover work, Aelive.

Which he's now, bringing in an injured boy, while a girl tagged along with.

It's lucky for him that the girl had protested to them that she was with the boy, bringing a sense of da-ja-vu with the other two.

"Don't think for a second that we'll drop you if you struggle to keep with us." Clysita peered at Chandra, then eyeing the resting Dealix. "Hold on a minute" chimed Ael. Clysita pointed a finger at Aelive "not another word" her facial expression makes him shiver.

He shrugs after and waves her off, she faces Chandra again with a firm index finger, then huffs bringing it down sluggishly.

The corner of her eye catches a glimpse of a shadow, reactively, she grabs her knife–reading it on the spot. Aelive reacts as well, looking at Chandra.

"Did you have a shadow?" Clysita looks at the two, Ael's face grows blue, having not only Chandra following, but another.

Having his mind flow with these thoughts he thinks of other similar outcomes while Clysita stares into the dark.

Entering into the light a young Asian woman with long black hair with evenly cut bangs flowing past and onto her shoulders.

It's Korith, she had followed the humming light here, her facial expression shifts, having thoughts with 'the hum.'

"Where's the boy?" Her flat tone spreads throughout the group; Clysita's knife raising.

With newfound growing strength Korith looks at Clysita with a sense of unamusement.

Chandra looks at Dealix hopefully not after you, she threads a thought.

Ael gets up from his arrangement and tries to slow everything down, "hey now, we can talk about this, Clysita '' he looks at the two of them, raising his arm to Clysita.

"Black hair, has a leather jacket?" Korith had said, glossing over her own set of hair, thinking about the flashes of imagery that's deciphering the description to her.

Clysita's response is a tell of wonderment, having her eyes go towards the upper right of her sockets.

Aelive looks at Clysita's change of expression, lowering his arms down further, questioning brews within his mind to her wondering look.

The other comrades turn the corner, seeing Clysita arming a knife, Ael in-between, and a girl who they haven't seen before besides Chandra.

They hurried along to their leader's aid, arming their own weapons, however Korith remained like iron between the three armed individuals.

Her gaze shifts up at the hum, taking note that they can't see it, from peering down she looks at the crowd before her. "Where's the boy, it seems like you know something."

Having the question that's still being asked, Chandra gets in-between her and Dealix, Korith looks at Chandra and shakes her head.

The feeling of power strengthens, "but your leader here knows" she points at the leader, having Clysita's guard flinch as Chandra side-glances at her and back at the girl.

Clysita feels something off with this girl, the air around her feels like it's shrinking, but no one else is sensing this aura that's surrounding the young-woman.

"Who wants to know" she tries to bring her nose upward, to come across as threatening.

"Drop the act, lady" Korith feels another sense rising, the hum that's guiding her gets louder, Chandra starts to feel the aura as well and begins to search around for a weapon.

"Tell me" she orders, Clysita isn't having it. "What's so important that you replace this boy?" Her suspicion from early about the boy raises.

The humming light gets brighter and amplified in Koriths view and her auditory perception.

"What's so important that you try to hide this from me" her stance changes.

Chandra sees a weapon, as she's about to grab it, Dealix floods his eyes open and gasps.

"Korith" he yells out, his fatigue still wearing him down, unaware that he had said her name as his vision darts around the room.

Chandra looks at Dealix's frantic darts then hones her own to the woman wearing a black-n-red get up. Koriths' stare is like solid ice, seeing past her—eyeing Dealix.

"Korith, huh." Clysita looks at the both of them, then readies her stance once more—her guard coming back to her.

With information that she pirated from the Towers' system, she has everything from birth date to her medical information: such as being struck by that lightning bolt.

Her knife blade shines from the lighting of a fire-pit. She begins her lunge, striking towards the tendinitis of her shoulder blade.

Her reaction time throws off Clysita, as she twists the knife away, giving her a firm jab at the back of her neck.

With the sudden pressure on the back, she flops down. Her muscles turn against her, unveiling her to move freely.

Just like that—the leader of the pack drops like a fly being swatted.

Chandra eyes widened, almost wanting to drop her mouth by the shock on how easy it was for Korith to drop her.

Aelive does a quick dive towards his weapon, turning around to expect his opponent to be at arms with Clysita's knife, yet she remains unguarded.

Silently waiting for an answer for either him or anyone else in the room.

With Aels sudden pause, the two other armed members sprint to attack Korith, swinging wide to any point of her body.

The hum above Korith does a heightened pitch and the two drop—their weapons clank onto the floor, sliding from the momentum past her feet. She looks at the hum and then down at her two unarmed opponents, Aelive still clutching his ear, he hasn't had this problem since his training against their boss.

He's in his head, thinking of possible scenarios that will aid him and the two others.

Chandra doesn't realize the impact of the situation, hanging her body low as she bolts for the weapon.

The hum reacts again, but this time it's not effective towards her. Korith squints her eyes at her enemy, seeing that she didn't drop like loose clothing on a hanger.

The girl rolls and grabs the nearest weapon she can get ahold of, being one of the members weapons to the very right of her.

Chandra looks down at the soldier and quickly checks his pulse, sensing that it's still beating.

Koriths mind flashes with imagery of escape, the hum with her impulses sending a wave to her and darts for the exit.

She wants to finish the fight, however she listens and follows the flowing pictures within.

Chandra looks up, seeing Korith take a bomb rush towards the exit. She wants to leave, but Chandra wont give her a chance.

She's ready to fight, ready to kick her ass for the sake of protecting her given comrades.

Ael yells at the now jolted Chandra, barking an order to stay back—she doesn't listen, bringing him to rush to her. Catching up with her before the entrance collapses before her eyes.

Aelive had pushed her with him, nearly body slamming her down to the floor.

Chandra thinks to herself about the sudden notice, Before she could yell at him about anything, he responded.

"The smell changed, it smelt off----something was off when she rushed. It didn't seem like a normal retreat." He recalls his training, to the moments where the air changed around them when an explosion had happened.

Leaving two more questions in mind: How did it happen, and how do they get out?