Shortly after, I was escorted out of the building following a security camera check. The law enforcement perceived me as the only eligible witness. I was forced into the back of a police car and quickly sent to the nearest police station. After being escorted into the interrogation chamber, I was taken aback when my hands were cuffed to the arms of my chair.
"Listen, kiddo. We're going to ask you some questions, and we expect honest and genuine answers." One of the police officers—a woman with water for hair—said as she entered the room, sitting down across from me with another police officer by her side.
"You hungry?" She asked, her expression softening slightly as she pressed a button on the small, black remote she was holding. I suddenly felt my cuffs loosen, falling to the ground with a dull clank. She reached under, before laying a fast-food bag on the table. It was the exact restaurant I had gotten food from that my father had previously eaten.
I nodded, wiping some drool away as I opened the bag and removed the chicken sandwich and french fries.
"So, you witnessed the collapse and death of a student..." She pushed another button on the remote, causing the overhead television set to spark to life, broadcasting footage of the hallway I was in during the incident. I saw the electrical bully charge at me, and his body stiffen as he collapsed to the ground.
"What did you see aside from this footage? Have you encountered him before?"
I nodded. "He's...tormented me before, he's like my bully of sorts."
The female officer nodded her head in understanding, mentally gathering all I had said, along with writing them down on a clipboard and paper like a teacher taking daily attendance.
She exchanged a glance with the other officer in the room, a man with ears, a mouth, and a nose similar to a rat. He opened his mouth, taking a slow breath as he turned towards his coworker.
"Should we conduct a quirk scanning? The autopsy analysis we received clarified...abnormal wounds, ones that wouldn't be inflicted by a regular person."
"I think it's best...we just need his cooperation." The female officer turned back to me, her face solemn yet containing a dash of empathy. "Does that sound ok?"
As if to add to the feeling of safety, she continued. "We won't put the cuffs back on."
...
I was led into a sterile looking room with white walls. The atmosphere and tone of the room was reminiscent of a doctor's office or medical facility. I was ordered to sit on an elevated, soft countertop, and a semi-translucent, thin sheet was wrapped around my shoulders. I was also ordered to strip myself and lay out my clothing beside me.
Suddenly a man wearing a face mask and a white coat entered the room, carrying a small, black case in his left hand. In his right was a piece of paper with what appeared to be a large quantity of words. The stoic looking doctors laid the paper in front of me, and gave me a look that matched his demeanor.
"Sign this, please." He said, his voice low but not demanding.
I slowly took the sheet and the pen the doctor had given me, looking over the conditions and survey on the paper. The sheet asked me of my age, my height, my body weight, my gender, and the usual information I would be greeted with at the doctors office. Before I handed the form back I noticed gray text at the bottom, which almost looked invisible but still there:
Will you allow your DNA to be tested for scientific and analytical practices?
"You'll be...testing me?" I looked up at the police officers and the doctor in the room, my heart pounding in my chest.
"No, we won't. But we'll be analyzing your DNA to see if you do have a quirk. After all, what happened to that boy wasn't anything ordinary." The doctor said as he opened his briefcase, showcasing the items inside. Among them was a small, translucent plastic cup with a lid, and the other was a syringe and IV.
"You'll have to urinate in the cup. After that, we'll commence with IV extraction."
The doctor put on a pair of blue latex gloves and handed me the small cup, raising an eyebrow expectantly. I hesitated for a few moments, but the doctor's gaze seemed to feel like ice on my skin. My hands slowly wrapped around the cup as I grabbed it from the doctor's grip. Shortly after that, I was escorted to the bathroom.
"I'll give you privacy." The doctor's voice sounded behind the door after I closed it, leaving me alone in the room. The lights of the bathroom were dimly lit, and the toilet was in the ground like a shower drain. I undid my pants and began to urinate, trying my hardest to ensure enough of the contents landed in the cup.
After I finished urinating I put the cup on the counter and washed my hands two times over to ensure I wouldn't contract any infections or germs. After leaving the bathroom the doctor extended his palm, and I gave him the cup of my urine.
"I'll commence with the testing shortly, in the meantime—I'll set up the IV." He turned around and walked back into the room that smelled like antibiotics. I remained in the hallway with my hands in the pockets of my gown, attempting to stifle the nervousness within me. My heart jumped from my chest when I heard the doctor call my name.
"According to your previous medical files, you seem to have irrational hemophobia. So I'll give you two options..." He rapped his gloved hands on the counter as he gazed at me with his icy-blue eyes.
"Conscous or unconscious?"
"Unconscious." I replied, my hands fisting in my pockets as I took a deep breath, sitting back on the soft counter. The doctor sighed softly when he heard my answer. I could tell he was annoyed from this delay.
"Take this." He handed me a small black tablet. "You'll fall asleep quickly with this."
I nodded, taking the pill and swallowing it with a gulp of water from the nearby sink. As soon as the pill entered my body, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me. I lied down on the soft counter and took a deep breath, attempting to calm my body and mind whilst distracting myself from the sensations.
The stern doctor watched from the sidelines as my body gradually calmed down, and I entered a state of slumber.
"Ticket, boy." An illusory voice sounded in the darkness. When my eyes opened I saw a man with a black mustache, wearing a uniform, standing behind the box office booth. I looked down at my attire, noticing it was the same twenties fit I always seemed to wear when I entered this dream-like state.
"Sorry..." I reached into my pocket and took out a ticket, before handing it to the man in the booth with a small smile. After he took a few moments to authenticize it, he ushered me on my way. As I stepped into the theater I saw what was playing now.
One of the movies was what appeared to be a horror movie, showing an unfathomably large shark under the depths of a dark ocean, its titanic sized mouth opening under a small ship. Looking at the poster, I couldn't help but get a shiver down my spine.
The next movie showcased a man wearing a black mask, a pinstriped suit, and carrying a large dagger in his hands, which was painted in thick crimson blood. The atmosphere of the poster conveyed mystery, along with a semblance of danger, malice and trickery. I looked at the title of the movie, which was scribbled out in red words that were barely legible.
CLAYMOUND'S HAUNTING
I wasn't big on murder mysteries, but I did like some drama.
The last movie poster portrayed a young woman lying in a field of flowers, holding a worn book to her chest. Her expression was peaceful, and her demeanor appeared to be one of gentleness and empathy. The movie's title: Rising of Roses, made it appear to either be a coming of age film, or a film focused on internal feelings and turmoil.
Perfect.
After I grabbed my popcorn I entered the theater and surveyed my surroundings. Like usual, the theater was empty except for myself. I moved to the top row and sat down whilst the movie screen buzzed with static, waiting for the movie to project. As I popped a kernel into my mouth, illusory, dark shadows began to creep into the chair next to me.
They crept into the seat like spiders, manifesting into the shape of a large figure shrouded in shadows. A large, illusory cloak wrapped around their body, and two red, wormhole-like eyes manifested in the depths of its head. After a pregnant pause, it turned to look at me, its head cocking as its eyes ebbed with curiosity.
"A film like this?" The figure's voice seemed to echo to an infinite extent, but at the same time, it seemed collected within the room.
My body remained frozen, unable to move. I refrained from looking at the shadowy figure in my peripheral vision. Its body seemed to emit an inscrutable sense of bitter coldness, and the figure's eyes seemed to ebb with a maniacal yet collected malice.
Overall, the shadowy figure in the theatre was one that appeared evil and seemed to refrain from doing so.
My voice seemed caught in my throat, unable to speak. Goosebumps arose across my manifested form, and I felt as if hundreds of eyes were peering at me from the darkness of the room.
"Who...are...you?" I asked, my voice shaky as I closed my eyes.
"You'll find out soon enough." The figure responded. At that very moment, the shadows composing its form quickly dissipated, along with any fleeting evidence of its presence.
...
As my eyes opened again, I was greeted by the sterile lights of the room, and a dull ache in my left arm. I could feel a bandage wrapped around the spot where the needle had been injected into. When I leaned up I didn't feel much nausea, but I felt a throbbing in my head.
"Your test results are in the works, we should expect results back in a few hours. In the meantime I think I should fix your arm...whoever applied that cast did a good job, but not industrial grade like I prefer." The doctor popped his collar as he approached me, gently wrapping his arms around the cast. He then took out a small circular blade and began to cut into the thick material.
"I apologize, I tend to be a perfectionist." The man's voice turned a little less solemn, this time taking a softer and more comforting approach. After he removed the cast he quickly gave me a new one, accompanied by his neat signature on the white material.
"I heard there's an ironic trope saying we have bad handwriting, but I have to say I'm among the minority who can document information and still maintain almost perfect legibility."
I could tell this doctor had lightened up slightly for an unknown reason, an occurrence that wouldn't help but make my head spin.
"So, I'll be out in a few hours?" I asked.
"I believe so. In the meantime, the tests are running—and the possibility of us having to extract more samples is...uncertian."
"Oh..."
The red light above the door suddenly accosted, and a small buzz was heard on the control panel. The doctor's eyes darted to the panel as he walked over to it, before exchanging a glance with me.
"It appears your company is here." He said with a sigh as he opened the door, the panel sliding open with a mechanical hiss. Ayumi, Shinso, and Shinso's parents, accompanied by Aizawa, Ryujin, and an unexpected visit from Olivia, were there to greet me.
"So...you all showed up? It's not like I was hospitalized, I'm being questioned for the death of a student." I couldn't help but chuckle self-depracatingly as I watched them all enter.
"Well, kid. I figured I'd visit you." Mr. Ryujin said with a small smile as he walked into the room, sitting in one of the armchairs. "By the way, I told Olivia about you, and she seemed curious to know you."
"Hello, Isaac." She said, a small smile on her face.