A weird picture of the city

At precisely 3:50 PM, Alex emerged from the 168th Street subway station, the air tinged with a damp chill. He surveyed his surroundings; Washington Heights was considerably quieter than lower Manhattan, a juxtaposition of towering hospital buildings and antiquated residential blocks, with sparse pedestrians dotting the streets.

Proceeding northward, he located St. Rose of Lima Church—a squat, brick edifice, its spire veiled in the mist. The alley adjacent to the church was narrow and dim, its walls overgrown with moss, several dilapidated trash bins lining the perimeter.

Alex ventured into the alleyway, his footsteps echoing softly on the slick ground. Halting, he leaned against a wall, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings. A distant, somber chime reverberated, marking exactly four o'clock. A brisk cadence of footsteps emanated from the depths of the alley; he looked up to see a red-haired woman emerging from the shadows.

Clad in a black leather jacket, paired with casual jeans, her hands were tucked into her pockets, her gait as lithe as a feline's. It was Scarlett.

She paused before him, tilting her head in appraisal, and murmured, "You actually came, kid." Her tone was cool, laced with a hint of mockery, her red hair swaying gently in the breeze.

Alex adjusted his glasses and responded quietly, "Alex Carter, student at Columbia. You're Scarlett?" He maintained a steady tone, striving to conceal the nervousness within.

Scarlett nodded, leaning against the wall, producing a scalpel from her pocket, tossing and catching it idly as she said, "Yeah, Scarlett, no last name. You're lucky to have found me alive." She paused, the scalpel's tip directed at him, "So, what do you want to know?"

Alex inhaled deeply. "That place, the Whisperers, and the 'Cryptid Society'... what's it all about?" He refrained from pressing, waiting patiently, his gaze fixed on the scalpel in her hand.

Scarlett pocketed the scalpel, checking that they were still alone: "What you saw is just the tip of the iceberg. This city is rotting from the inside, the uncanny is all over the place, not just New York, but even the surrounding Newark and Jersey City are starting to stir."

She paused, her gaze shifting towards the alley entrance, "What are Whisperers? Just the lowest scum, catching those unlucky enough to stumble in. There are far more terrifying things."

Alex frowned. "Like what?" Images of the information on the dark web from last night surfaced in his mind—moving statues, the cries on the late-night subway.

Scarlett glanced at him. "The sewers of Brooklyn, there are things that drag people in, leaving nothing behind, not even bones. The abandoned buildings in Queens, the mirrors reflect faces that aren't yours, and if you stare too long, you're no longer yourself. Downtown Manhattan, there's a statue that moves on its own at night, and the next day there are always a few people missing." Her voice was deep, laced with weariness. "These things are smarter and crueler than the Whisperers."

Alex's heart raced. "What about Columbia? I saw posts saying there are strange noises in Philosophy Hall." He recalled the records on the clue board, the rumors about the knocking.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "Philosophy Hall? I heard people saying that the sounds in the walls were like Morse code, but no one has deciphered it. Could be something trapped, or... something else." She shrugged. "You better not try, don't say I didn't warn you."

He was silent for a moment, then asked another question: "What about the 'Cryptid Society'?" He recalled the trading platform on the dark web, those strange items and missions.

Scarlett leaned against the wall, looking up at the sky. "The Society isn't some justice organization, just a bunch of people who came together to survive. We've all been to that place—you call it 'The Other Side'? Whatever. Some die inside, some climb out, and learn how to survive." She paused, pulling out a rune-stone, tossing it in her hand. "These monsters and things, they can make us stronger. Hunt monsters, dig out stones, trade for something, or use it yourself. Some things can change your body, give you special abilities."

Alex stared at the stone. "You used them too?" he asked quietly, recalling her extraordinary agility last night.

Scarlett seemed to find something amusing in that. "Of course. I believe you wouldn't refuse these things, either, if you were in my position." She squatted down, then leaped up, easily jumping onto the low wall on one side of the alley, her movements as fluid as if unaffected by gravity. She jumped back to the ground.

"This is nothing. Some can run faster than a car, some can hear sounds half a mile away. People in the Society, they're all gambling with their lives."

Alex pressed further. "What about the Sound Thieves' stones?" He recalled the three she had picked up last night.

Scarlett shrugged. "That stuff isn't of much use, doesn't trade for much. But little by little, you can get some good stuff." She paused, then said quietly, "If you want to live a little longer, you might want to check out the stuff in the Society. But don't expect anyone to protect you, everyone is too busy taking care of themselves." 

Alex was silent. He felt that the shadows of the city were far beyond his imagination, and everything had to be considered carefully. He lowered his head, pulled a memo out of his backpack, wrote down his number, and handed it to Scarlett: "If something happens, can you contact me?"

Scarlett took the note, glanced at it, and muttered, "Alright." She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her leather jacket pocket, wrote down a string of numbers, and handed it to him: "This is my burner number, toss it when you're done. If you need me, don't just call." She paused. "Don't die too soon, kid. You're fairly quick on the uptake."

Alex took the note and said softly, "Thanks." He watched her turn, her red hair swinging, as she walked into the depths of the alley, her footsteps fading into the distance. He looked down at the note, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket.

He turned and walked out of the alley, the church bells ringing again, half past four had passed. He walked along 168th Street towards the subway station, mulling over Scarlett's words.

The Sound Thieves were just a weak kind of monster, the city's uncanny tales were spreading, and the people of the Society were fighting these horrors with hunting and trading. If he wanted to explore the knocking in Philosophy Hall, he would have to gather some intelligence first.