Thump! Thump!
A tall, young, bloodied man with shaggy platinum blonde hair matted with sweat and blood, hastily ran up spiral stairs, the crimson red sky gradually fading back to blue. His onyx stone-like eyes flickered between the distance above and his feet.
(Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!)
His breath came in short bursts, forming a pale cloud of smoke in the cold air as it crept from his lips.
Deafening screeches echoed throughout the entire building, threatening to burst his eardrums.
The more he ran, the less he could see the forming clouds; he could tell he was getting closer.
(Zero percent! They had a zero percent probability of surviving... It wasn't my fault!)
Just a few feet below him, monstrous shapes rose upwards. They were bats, three to four times bigger than tigers, wings torn like broken sheets, and their eyes glowing a rotten gold.
Thump-thump! Thump-thump!
His heartbeat quickened, threatening to jump out of his chest as he forced his legs to move faster. Just then, a narrow slit of light from above hit his vision.
The bats screeched from it.
It forced him to squint his eyes; however, he couldn't stop now. The stones widened over the light's stare, the sun washing over them, creating an eclipse-like glare.
His ears followed the sounds of bats getting closer; they were screaming as if trying to speak. Their cries fell on deaf ears, but still they insisted.
(They had to die! They had to die, it was either them or me!)
With one last push, he flung himself out of the door, the bats chasing him into the daylight. Oxygen enveloped their lungs, instantly turning them into ash with the wind.
Huff... Huff...
He glanced up at the sky, his breathing growing heavier as a sudden jolt of exhaustion ran through his body. His body recoiled like Jell-O, his gaze shifting in and out of focus, his ears ringing from the loud noises of cars and sirens.
A man with long, fiery red hair ran towards him, hurriedly grabbed him by the back, and checked him for wounds. Behind him, a woman with medium-length, snow-white hair and stoic eyes followed.
Simon put a shaky hand up, trying to stop the check-up, turning around to his knees. He began to vomit up his breakfast, squirming in pain.
"W-what's your name?" The red-haired man asked nervously, his voice having a few cracks in it.
"Simon... Simon Crest."
"How many casualties were there?" The woman asked, her scarred face and body getting closer to him, as she raised an eyebrow almost suspiciously.
"I don't know—"
He couldn't hear his own voice, too weak from the horrors he had faced. Simon was practically dragged to a car, shock and exhaustion pressing him into the earth.
For most of the car ride, all he could do was stare down at his feet. His face was one painted in horror, his eyes unable to close as if he had awakened from a nightmare.
The blood on his clothes was drying like paint, but no one seemed to pay any heed. The next thing he knew, he was in an investigation room.
The room had a singular window, only there to give people some sense of warmth or escape.
The faceless figure behind the glass in front of Simon trapped his fingers against it, snapping Simon's attention back to him.
Tok! Tok!
"Hello? Does my voice reach your ears, Mr. Crest?. Don't make my job any easier than it is." The smooth, hushed voice from the other side of the tainted glass uttered.
Like a sloth, Simon's gaze lazily shifted towards the glass and away from the window. The figure cleared his throat.
"Just for safety purposes, report your name."
The sudden flash of lights in front of Simon made him flinch and slam his eyes shut. His platinum blonde hair flew against the back of his neck from the winds, before he finally opened his eyes.
Swoosh!
"Don't make mine harder, you already know my name."
"Yes, Crest is an indistinguishable surname... Signature and rank now."
"Probability: Grade A, Dissonantly Reformed stage."
The man talking to him behind the glass paused for a second. Beautiful sounds from gusts of wind flying from the window, the smell of heavy rain and night floating through.
"How many people died? Are you the sole survivor?"
Simon's eyes widened as he stared at the figure, a mix of fury and sadness boiling in his heart. He could feel tears forming in his eyes that he didn't let softly drop. A yell in his throat that he couldn't let fully out.
"Their blood is still on my clothes," Simon couldn't help but laugh. "And yet you still expect me to give you a spreadsheet..? Do you want me to count the screams too?"
"We have to send a rescue team if there are — even if they are Bedeviled, it'll be better to stop this tragedy."
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disgust. Simon knew he was right; he knew that he wasn't the only person that the Cognitive Hollow World Enforcement Bureau had to care for.
"Unfortunately, I'm the only survivor." Simon exhaled with a sense of hatred, a dark, weighted silence suddenly engulfing the room.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
That was the last thing filling the room, the faint pitter-patter of tapping from the faceless figure on the other side.
"Rin Sato reported that bats followed you up. Do you acknowledge this? The monsters inside the Hollow World don't usually go so far up — they can't stand those levels of clean oxygen... Unless they were humans beforehand."
Simon's stone-like eyes shrank to the size of a pebble, his jaw tightening, mind clouded with thoughts of storming out. He quickly shoved them down, as deep as he could, into his heart before slamming his hands on the table.
"Are you accusing me of turning them?!" Simon said, palms slowly balling into fists as he glared back at the man.
(It wasn't my fault, I didn't know it'd turn out like this.)
"Yes. Even more so at that reaction. I never accused you, I only asked you a question about the Hollow Beasts' odd behavior."
Tap!
The figure stood up abruptly, eyes wrapping around Simon. Simon couldn't see them, but he could feel him holding onto the stones he called eyes.
(Damn it! Think Simon, think—)
"Simon Crest, until further notice, you are being detained and investigated for being a part of, or having some type of involvement with Bedeviled Organizations."
The words hit him harder than any physical blow; they were louder than any siren he could even begin to imagine. He jolted up towards the tainted glass, standing in front of it, unable to contain himself any longer.
"I just watched everyone the life that I lived for six months die in front of my eyes, and you're accusing me of being a Bedeviled! All because I asked a question?! Who do you think you are—"
"I know I'm the best detective this place has ever seen. I'm certain you're a member, or perhaps you work solo; either way, I don't care, I trust my lapse in judgment. If I'm correct, then you're sloppy; if I'm wrong, then I would be very disappointed... But I'm never wrong. The word 'wrong' does not exist; there are only truths and lies or even worse, partial truths."
"Disappointed?..."
Simon retreated at the word, but he still stepped closer to the glass. He could see the figure getting even closer to him, until his faint features came into view.
The man was slim, his eyes narrow like a snake's, with long hair that reached down his back like a river. A bandaged hand came to the glass, and he could see him smile.
"A red fox sees an opossum on the other side of a mountain that he cannot reach. Does the fox go around the mountain and hope to catch it, or sneak under the mountain? Both are wrong — the fox jumps over the mountain and pounces on it, entrapping its prey."
A shiver ran down Simon's spine, one that couldn't be anything else besides fear. It was as if that force he felt had made him still — like he didn't have a choice.
(I can still salvage this... No, more importantly — why is someone like him here? Shouldn't this be above him?")
(..Master, you think too much,) A soft, disoriented voice muttered in his head.
(Shut up, Saber! Not now!)
The figure stepped back, taking a seat once more before putting the cube in his hand down.
"Now, let's make this simpler for everyone here. Tell me everything that happened, and start from the beginning."
Simon knew he had no choice but to comply, so he also took a seat. A sense of defeat washed over him for a bit before his resolve tightened.
"This morning—"
"No. Start from when you joined the Bureau. This is more than just about this morning. You are supposed to be the only person who can compare to me, if you were to fall like this... Please, go on."
"...Fine."