Ch.9
News Broadcast – Early Morning
"This is Channel Nine. We interrupt your scheduled program with breaking news."
The screen flickered slightly as a grim-faced anchorwoman leaned forward, papers rustling beneath her fingers.
"Reports of missing persons have surged dramatically across the county. In just the past two weeks, eleven individuals — all students or faculty from Blackbridge College — have vanished without a trace. Authorities urge all residents to remain indoors after sunset and report any suspicious behavior immediately."
The screen shifted to grainy footage: police tape, crying parents, rows of fliers stapled to wooden poles with faces .
"While police continue their investigation, no official suspects have been named. However, several individuals are currently being questioned. Sources suggest a possible connection to an underground network operating in the region. Law enforcement has refused to confirm these rumors."
The screen cut to black for a moment.
Then the anchor's voice returned, softer this time.
"We advise our viewers to stay alert, stay cautious… and stay safe."
---
Interrogation Room – Late Afternoon
The fluorescent lights above buzzed with a faint, almost oppressive drone.
Inside the concrete-walled room sat two figures, their wrists shackled to the cold steel table, backs straight, expressions unreadable.
A one-way mirror stared back at them like an unblinking eye.
One of them leaned forward, slowly cracking his neck. The other sat still, almost serene, eyes half-lidded, as if bored by the whole performance.
The officer across from them — mid-40s, heavy-set, sweat darkening his collar — slammed a file on the table.
"Let's cut the bullshit," he barked. "People are disappearing. Eleven, to be exact. You were both near at least five of the reported locations. Witnesses place you within walking distance of the library incident. One girl saw you behind the cafeteria before another student vanished. Tell me that's all coincidence."
Silence.
Then — the one on the left smirked.
A slow, lazy thing that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Coincidence is a funny word," he said. "You throw it around like it means something."
His voice was smooth. Detached. Dangerous.
The officer slammed the table again. "You think this is a game?"
The second man finally stirred, raising an eyebrow. His voice was softer, but sharper.
"If it were a game, you'd already be losing. You don't seem to be in the age to play"
The officer leaned in, teeth clenched. "Where were you last Thursday night?"
The first man yawned. "Asleep."
The officer turned to the second. "And you?"
He smiled, almost sweetly.
"I was with him. We sleep together sometimes."
The cop froze.
He blinked.
They both smiled.
The tension in the room turned bitter — then curdled into something worse.
One of the detectives behind the mirror leaned closer to his colleague.
"Jesus. They're toying with him."
The other shook his head. "I don't know. Something about them… doesn't sit right."
---
Outside the Station – Evening
The doors to the precinct opened with a quiet hiss.
David stepped out first, rolling his shoulders.
Vincent followed, adjusting his coat, a cigarette already lit between his fingers.
They walked slowly, without speaking at first, letting the last rays of the sun hit their faces.
After a moment, Vincent exhaled smoke and chuckled.
"That was fun."
David grunted. "You're insane."
"Was that not fun?" Vincent said with mock outrage. "We even got free coffee"
David didn't smile.
But Vincent didn't need him to.
He already saw the glint in his brother's eyes.
"They had to question everyone in the district," Vincent continued. "Standard procedure. You think they'll find anything?"
David didn't answer for a few steps.
Then: "No. They're too late."
They turned the corner, fading into the crowd like ghosts
From inside the station, the officer flipped through the empty files again.
"No priors. No links. No prints. Nothing."
He frowned, rubbed his temples.
"I could've sworn…"
The officer standing next to him suddenly grabbed the file
His eye shone with a dangerous light
.
.
.
The wind was dry that evening, sweeping lazily through the trees .
David stood near the gate, phone pressed to his ear, watching the distant .
On the other end of the line, Victoria's voice crackled faintly through the speaker.
"It's done," she said.
David didn't respond right away. His eyes remained fixed on the empty road.
Then, softly:
"…Thank you."
A pause. Then a mocking hum.
"Was that a 'thank you' from the great and emotionally barren David?" Victoria teased. "My God. Someone mark the calendar."
"Don't get used to it."
"I won't," she said. "See you around."
The call ended with a beep.
Vincent was already beside him, leaning against the rusted gate with his hands in his pockets, one foot lazily kicking at a rock.
"So… you actually thanked someone," he said, smiling. "Or that's for Victoria only?"
David ignored him.
He exhaled slowly, his breath curling like smoke in the cooling air.
"It's Saturday," he said.
Vincent nodded. "Mhm.so? Forget that bro"
David didn't answer.
They started walking.
The town was quiet. Too quiet for a weekend. Shuttered windows. Empty sidewalks. Streetlights flickering .
After a few minutes, Vincent slipped into a nearby café — one of the few that still opened after dark — and returned with two cups of coffee.
He handed one to David.
David took it, silent as always.
They walked a little more. A few sips. The taste was strong. Bitter.
David frowned.
He paused mid-step.
He lifted the cup again, sniffed it.
There was something off.
Something he couldn't place something.. wrong enough.
He turned his head, slowly.
"Vincent… did you—"
A sharp impact split the side of his skull.
A crack. A burst of white behind his eyes.
The world spun.
The cup slipped from his fingers.
He didn't see who hit him.
Only the sound and the taste of blood rising in his mouth.
Then—
Darkness, thick and absolute, like the world had been turned inside out.
Collapse.
..
.
She had broken through the front gate .
Two of his men were already on the floor — one choking on his own teeth, the other bleeding from the nose, barely conscious.
Victoria's boots were slick with their blood as she stepped over them without a glance.
Her knuckles were torn raw. Her jaw clenched like it was wired shut.
She kicked open the heavy steel door.
The room inside was dim.
And there he was — the man she'd been hunting for months.
He smirked, sitting there with a busted lip and a half-lit cigarette, like he was expecting her all along.
"You came all this way for that ?" he said, voice rough and amused. "That's pathetic."
Victoria didn't answer.
She just stepped closer, breathing heavy, hair matted to her face with sweat and blood.
"Tell me who killed her," she hissed.
Her voice wasn't angry.
She had nothing left .
He laughed dryly. "You really don't know, do you?"
"I said—tell me."
Silence stretched.
he leaned forward.
Then whispered a name.
Victoria froze.
The color drained from her face.
Her lips parted slowly. Her hand trembled at her side.
She blinked once.
"No…"
The man's smirk widened.
"I thought you were smarter than this."
She took a step back, shaking.
"It can't be."
He only shrugged.
"You asked."
Behind her, the lights flickered violently —
And then everything went dark.
Like someone just buried her heart alive.
........