Chapter 2: The Ratasleep
As the squad's bus took off, heading toward Cairo—the heart and capital of Egypt, where Harith's sister's wedding was being held—the wind swept through the nearly deserted town. A tumbleweed rolled across the street, carried by the current of air.
Somewhere in the darkness, in a place unknown, a dangerous gleam pierced through the blackness. It was red. Creepy. It radiated pure menace.
A mysterious figure sat there, somewhere filthy—perhaps in the sewers. No one truly knew.
In front of him floated a small, rat-shaped screen, glowing faintly in the darkness. It was likely the only source of light in that place, aside from the figure's red, ominous eyes.
The screen displayed someone familiar… gray hair… strange, thief-like clothes.
It was none other than Mutafakir.
But the dangerous figure wasn't spying on Mutafakir for amusement. He had a purpose.
A very important one.
Then… something interrupted him.
An old man crawled through the sewer's filthy, stinking water.
The weak splashes of water grew closer and closer.
A trembling voice echoed faintly.
"H-hey… s-son… y-you…"
The old man wore nothing but a dirt-stained white tank top, marked with every imaginable kind of filth. He looked up at the figure above him and immediately shivered in fear and dread.
Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak.
"I-I… d-don't know why… s-s-someone like you… w-would be here… b-but… p-please… g-give me… some money… even a little…"
The dangerous figure slowly stood up, shadows completely consuming his body.
Tiny, mysterious creatures—also cloaked in darkness but glowing with green, dangerous gleams—swiftly lifted the old man. There were dozens of them.
The dark figure stepped forward slowly and gracefully, hands behind his back, until he stood close enough.
"You know," he said, his voice deep and chilling, echoing throughout the sewers, "I'd be too ashamed of myself to bend down and lay my hands on a pile of garbage."
His voice was quiet—yet it carried enough weight to fill the entire space.
"And thus… I have some little companions who help me pick up dirt whenever I need it."
He placed a hand on the man's chest. The old man's face had already turned pale—white as paper.
Something green began spreading across his flesh.
Slowly at first.
"You're interrupting me, you know. Take this one lesson from me… and listen closely…"
Then suddenly—
The thick, green virus devoured the man in a single instant.
"Because it isn't going to be repeated again."
The man's skeleton dropped to the ground with a hollow clatter.
The dangerous figure shook his hand as if cleaning off dirt.
"What a shame. I should've fed you to my companions… though it's like cracking an egg before eating it. They wouldn't refuse the bones."
He commanded calmly,
"Eat up."
From the shadows, an army of rats emerged, swarming the skeleton. They were fast, precise, and terrifyingly efficient. Within seconds, the bones were stripped clean.
The figure returned to his seat and looked back at the rat-shaped screen.
Mutafakir was in his room, studying.
It was a small, simple room. Somewhat messy. Nothing remarkable.
He sat at a small desk, writing notes.
"Perfect," the figure muttered.
"Thirty-seven."
He called out in a commanding tone.
Red eyes gleamed behind him.
A smaller figure stepped forward. A black mouse—unnaturally large, standing upright with its arms crossed. Its fur was pitch black, and it almost looked muscular.
"At your command, sir," it said.
"You know what to do, Thirty-seven. I don't like repeating myself."
He pointed at the rat-shaped screen displaying Mutafakir.
"Ay, sir. Consider it done."
The rat leapt out of the sewers, disappearing swiftly and professionally.
⸻
Meanwhile…
Mutafakir sat at his desk, bored out of his mind.
"Ugh… this is useless."
He shoved his notebook and study materials aside in frustration.
"I've revised this a thousand times already… that exam can't be this hard… right?"
He jumped onto his bed and lay down. It was already getting late.
"I could just use a little sleep. Concentration is important when solving exams."
He switched off the lights and pulled the blanket over himself.
"Wait a minute…"
He slowly sat up.
"Before that… nature's calling."
After a few minutes, he returned and climbed back into bed.
"Woah. Sleeping at 7 p.m.? Eleven hours of sleep has got to be a crime."
He turned off the lights again and wrapped the blanket tightly around himself.
"Oh boy… this is going to feel like heaven."
He closed his eyes, perhaps hoping for a good dream—something exciting to accompany his sleep.
…
Thirty minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
His eyes remained closed the entire time.
Yet he didn't fall asleep.
It was unusual.
Finally, Mutafakir opened his eyes and reached for his phone.
He turned it on.
7:30 a.m.
"What the hell is that?!"
He exclaimed in shock.
Without questioning it, he rushed up, washed his face, and prepared his school bag.
But something felt wrong.
He felt sluggish. Heavy.
As if he hadn't slept at all.
He yanked his backpack onto his shoulders and hurried out.
But he couldn't run at full speed. His body felt weighed down for some reason.
(This is extremely bizarre… I thought I just closed my eyes for a while, and now I'm an hour late for school?! Something's off… this isn't normal at all.)
After what felt like an eternity, he reached the school gates.
They were closed.
"Darn it," he muttered, frustration in his voice.
"And they'll never let me in, either."
He sat down beside the gates on the dirty, yellow-beige ground.
"Something's off… I know it wasn't normal. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think I know what's going on…"
He looked down at himself, noticing how tired he felt.
"This… they look almost normal?"
The symptoms he was experiencing would only be considered normal if a specific condition had occurred.
"Screw it."
He stood up and brushed the dirt off his back.
"That exam's not important right now… I may be jumping to conclusions, but…"
As he walked, he kicked small rocks along the way.
"I feel really tired… like I haven't slept in a day. I should probably get some rest."
Then he thought,
"But how am I supposed to rest when I'm under the effects of a Disposition?!"
After a few minutes of slow walking, he reached his house. His hand weakly grabbed the door handle before he headed to his room.
His condition worsened by the minute. His vision blurred.
As he stepped inside, his foot crushed something sharp and hard.
He immediately fell.
"D-damn! What is that?!"
He looked down.
White powder.
It had scattered after being crushed beneath his foot.
"Wait… what is that supposed to be?!"
He reached out to inspect it.
It looked like the skull of some small mammal.
"T-this…"
He began sweating.
"This was never in my room before. Someone must have placed it here…"
"But wait!"
He looked down at himself.
He felt slightly better.
The fatigue was fading.
"So… that means once I crushed this thing…"
Above him, something watched through a small hole in the roof.
Thirty-seven.
"Shit… did he just figure out my ability coincidentally?!"
The muscular black rat stared, waiting.
Mutafakir spoke aloud,
"So these things… they're the reason I was feeling whatever the heck I was feeling before?!"
He slammed his fist into his palm.
"Then there must be more of those skulls in my room."
As he moved toward another suspicious spot—
CRASH.
The weak roof gave way.
Thirty-seven landed in front of him dramatically.
"Woah woah woah. Where do you think you goin'?"
Mutafakir was caught off guard.
Thirty-seven threw a powerful left hook, knocking a tooth out of Mutafakir's mouth.
"Who told you you could go there?"
A right hook followed—
Mutafakir barely blocked it.
"Wha'd up, dude? I tho' I was fightin' a man, no eunuch."
Thirty-seven kicked him with immense force, sending him crashing into the wall. The wall cracked. Books fell from the shelf onto his head.
His vision blurred. Fatigue lingered.
Mutafakir stood up weakly and wiped blood from his mouth.
"Bring it on, rodent."
Mutafakir's thoughts:
(This rodent is using his ability to weaken me every time I blink…)
(I'll have to get serious… his ability is weakening my guard…)
(And right now, each punch feels like a harsh stab to my body…)
The air grew tense.
(Like second-degree burns that can break bones…)
(I am blessed I crushed that random skull… that's the secret to his Disposition. I'd have been killed a long time ago if that little incident hadn't happened.)
Thirty-seven smirked.
"Ya' know, ya'd be a good meal for my frien's. I'll surprise ma' lord with yo flesh and bones."
Mutafakir blinked once again, but something eerie went off.
Shapes and images flickered in the corner of his eyes—things that didn't really exist.
Faint whispers began to creep in—some high-pitched, some deep and creepy.
Evil laughs echoed faintly.
(All of these… are lies.)
Mutafakir stomped the floor. For a few moments, the hallucinations vanished. But before he could relax, Thirty-seven rushed him again.
He was this close to being finished off…
But—
Everything slowed down, just for a second.
Mutafakir's resolve shone brighter than any lies or hallucinations.
Then…
He dodged with professional precision. A blue trail followed his movement.
Thirty-seven's thoughts:
(Impossible… this human ain't dismissin' my disposition's hallucinations… not like that!)
He countered with a powerful punch, sending Thirty-seven crashing into the wall.
"G-good… good. This isn't—"
And right after the punch, the hallucinations crept back into Mutafakir's vision, this time stronger. Creepy shadows loomed. The faint whispers grew louder by the second. It was overwhelming.
Mutafakir placed both hands on his head as if he had a headache.
All of that was about to drive him crazy by itself…
But not until—
Water dripped onto Thirty-seven's face.
It melted him. Brutally.
The water droplet wiped away all the hallucinations as it melted 37's flesh.
Mutafakir smiled slightly—a bloody smile. He was handling the hallucinations, and at the same time, enduring the pain from the stabbing punches.
"Oh, please. I don't need a rodent like you to compliment me," he said, his voice fearless yet shaky.
He pointed at Thirty-seven, blood dripping from his mouth and forehead.
"You think I didn't notice when the roof earlier dripped water onto your shoulder? That droplet melted your flesh instantly."
Thirty-seven stood up. His face had become a skull, more terrifying than before.
"I'll torture you so hard, you won't even be able to relax in the afterlife."
He dashed forward at extreme speed, cracking the floor beneath him.
Mutafakir caught his fist mid-strike.
One punch to the face. Three to the ribs.
Ribs shattered. Nose bent unnaturally.
Thirty-seven crashed into the wall again.
"Y-YOU MOTHERFUCKER—!"
"I'LL END YOU HERE!"
He leapt one final time.
Mutafakir charged a steaming punch. Red aura flared around his fist.
His heart pounded. He calculated the timing.
And swung downward.
The impact was tremendous.
A loud bang echoed as the wooden floor shattered.
Thirty-seven was buried beneath the force.
Mutafakir exhaled shakily.
"Y-you know… I've seen people bury people… animals… but never a rodent, buddy."
He leaned against his desk and grabbed a book.
"Oh, and one more thing. I'll teach you how to swim while we're at it."
He threw the book at a precise spot near the broken roof.
Something shifted. Liquid trickled. Then—
SPLASH.
A dirty bucket full of water fell onto the buried rodent.
Thirty-seven melted away brutally.
He couldn't even scream.
…
To be continued.
…
Characters spotlight:
37: Big cheese but with rights revoked and is a "gym rat".
(His Disposition is called "The Ratasleep." He places rat skulls around a specific spot and whomever walks in that spot is affected. Whenever the affected person closes their eyes or simply blinks they'll lose hours of sleep and as-well skip time)