The Red Floor Incident (3)

The trio—Max, Richard, and Amelia—moved through the city, trying their best to blend in. The streets were lively with morning traffic, people heading out for errands, and students gathering in small groups, chatting about things that had nothing to do with blood, curses, or exploding cultists.

Richard felt a strange disconnect, like he was walking through a different world—one where last night hadn't happened. But the faint metallic scent of blood still clung to him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Max led the way, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, as if this was just another casual Sunday morning. Amelia stuck close to Richard, still shaken from what they had witnessed.

For a while, no one spoke. Then, Amelia finally broke the silence.

"I still can't believe what happened back there…" she muttered, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of cars passing by.

Richard exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Welcome to our world."

Amelia frowned. "That was not normal, Richard. That was… it was like something out of a nightmare."

Max, walking ahead, finally spoke. "It is what it is."

Richard shot him a look. "That's all you have to say?"

Max shrugged. "You're acting like this is the first time you've seen something fucked up."

Richard wasn't sure how to respond to that. It wasn't just about witnessing death—he had seen plenty of that already. It was about how unnatural it had been. About the sheer terror in Oliver's eyes before his body twisted and—

"Guys…" Amelia suddenly stopped walking.

Richard and Max turned to her, confused, but then they saw it too.

A massive TV screen was mounted on the side of an electronics store, broadcasting a breaking news report

The screen cut to a serious-looking news anchor, seated in a brightly lit newsroom.

"Good morning, we interrupt your regular programming for breaking news. A gruesome crime scene has been uncovered in the industrial district. Authorities are now referring to it as 'The Red Floor Incident.' What we know so far is deeply unsettling."

The image switched to footage of the warehouse exterior, completely surrounded by police cars and crime scene tape. A forensic team in full protective gear moved in and out of the building, their white suits stained with red.

Then, the screen cut to aerial footage from a news helicopter.

The reporter's voice continued:

"At approximately 9:45 AM this morning, an emergency call was made by a group of teenagers who stumbled upon what authorities are calling 'one of the most disturbing crime scenes in recent years.' Although details remain classified, sources tell us that the warehouse interior was covered—floor to ceiling—in blood. Forensic analysts say the pattern suggests a high-speed blood spatter, unlike any typical homicide."

The camera zoomed in on officers standing outside, visibly disturbed.

"Police have yet to confirm the number of victims or whether the blood belongs to multiple individuals. However, investigators have found no human remains on-site—only blood. This has led to wild speculation among experts, with some suggesting the possibility of an underground criminal ritual or a mass execution gone wrong."

The screen changed again—this time, showing Max's car, still parked outside the warehouse.

"Adding to the mystery, police have identified a vehicle registered under a local resident, found abandoned outside the crime scene. While authorities have not yet released the name of the owner, they confirm that tracking this individual is now a top priority in the investigation."

Richard's stomach dropped.

"…Oh fuck."

Amelia's eyes widened. "Max, isn't that your—"

"Yeah." Max interrupted, his jaw clenched. "They found my car."

Richard turned to him, panic creeping into his voice. "And you're not worried?"

Max exhaled slowly, watching the screen with zero emotion. Then, he smirked.

"I've got a plan."

Max kept walking ahead, hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered despite the situation. His car was literally on the news, and he still had the nerve to act casual.

Richard, on the other hand, wasn't handling it so well.

"We're fucked," Richard muttered, keeping his head down as they walked. "Completely, utterly fucked."

Max glanced back at him. "Relax, dude. I told you, I've got a plan."

Richard scoffed. "Yeah? Care to share it with the class?"

Max sighed, finally stopping in his tracks. He turned to face them, lowering his voice.

"Listen carefully. There's a government faction that handles supernatural shit like this. I don't mean cops or detectives—I mean exorcists. The real deal. They keep things under control, clean up messes, cover up incidents before the public finds out."

Richard blinked. "You're saying the government has their own exorcists?"

Max nodded. "Of course. You think this is the first time something like the Red Floor Incident happened? These guys have been around for decades, keeping things out of the public eye."

Amelia frowned. "And how do you know all this?"

Max smirked. "Because Grandpa George used to work with them."

Richard stared at him. "What?"

Max shrugged. "Yeah, old man's got connections. If anyone can get us out of this, it's him. We just need to get to his house before the cops start connecting dots."

Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is insane."

Max started walking again. "Welcome to the job, bud."

They kept moving, the sounds of the city blurring into the background as their focus stayed on one thing—getting to George's house without drawing attention.

Max kept his pace casual, while Amelia stuck close to Richard, clearly uneasy. Richard wasn't exactly calm either, but he was doing his best not to let it show.

The broadcast was still playing on different screens around the city, and every time Richard caught a glimpse of Max's car on the news, his stomach tightened.

"You're sure about this plan?" Richard muttered under his breath, keeping his head low.

Max gave a lazy shrug. "One hundred percent."

Amelia still wasn't convinced. "And what if it doesn't work?"

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then we improvise."

Richard groaned. "That's not a plan, Max. That's gambling."

"No, it's being adaptable." Max smirked. "Big difference."

Richard was about to fire back, but before he could—

He bumped straight into someone.

A cop.

Richard's breath hitched.

The officer turned, looking down at him with an annoyed expression. "Watch where you're going, kid."

Richard froze. His mind was screaming.

Had this guy seen the news? Was he already suspicious? Did he recognize him?

Before Richard could say anything, Max stepped in.

"Sorry, officer." Max flashed a charming, easy-going grin. "My friend here is an idiot."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Max nodded seriously. "Yeah, real tragic case. Got dumped this morning. Whole three years, down the drain. You know how it is."

The cop gave Richard a once-over before scoffing. "Tch. Kids these days."

Max patted Richard on the back. "Right? But hey, heartbreak builds character."

The cop just shook his head, grumbling something about teenagers, and walked off.

Richard let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Are you fucking insane?" he whispered.

Max grinned. "You're welcome."

Richard wanted to punch him.

Amelia stared between them. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"It's called being a natural." Max tapped his temple. "You should try it sometime."

Richard groaned. "Let's just go."

They kept walking, this time more careful to avoid running into anyone else. The city was buzzing with news about the warehouse incident, and every street corner felt like another potential problem.

At one point, Amelia pulled her hoodie up, glancing around anxiously. "I feel like we're being watched."

Richard didn't disagree.

Finally, after what felt like forever, they turned onto George's street.

And then—they saw it.

Right outside George's house.

Two men.

One was older, built like a war veteran, his posture stiff with authority. The other was younger, sharp-eyed, with a calculating look.

Richard's stomach sank.

Max stopped walking.

Amelia swallowed hard. "Who are they?"

Richard didn't need to guess. He knew.

The police had come to question George.

And they had walked straight into it.