Thump! Thump!
A young, bloodied man with shaggy platinum blonde hair matted with sweat and blood was hastily running up spiral stairs, the crimson red sky gradually fading back to blue. His onyx stone-like depths flickered between the distance above and his feet.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!"
His breath came in short bursts, forming a pale cloud of smoke in the cold air as it exited from him. The deafening screeches echoed throughout the entire building, threatening to burst his eardrums.
The more he ran, the less he could see the forming clouds; he could tell he was getting closer. His bright red nose started to cool, but that only made the panic in his lungs burn even more.
"Zero percent! They had a zero percent probability of surviving... It wasn't my fault!"
Just a few feet below him, monstrous shapes rose upwards. They were bats, three to four times bigger than tigers, their wings torn like broken sheets, and their glowing a rotten gold.
Thumpthump! Thumpthump!
His heartbeat quickened, threatening to jump out of his chest as he forced his legs to move faster. Just then, he could see the narrow slit of light above him.
The bats screeched from it. It also made him flinch his eyes, but he couldn't stop now. The stones widened over the light's stare, the sun washing over them, creating an eclipse-like glare.
He could hear the bats getting closer, screaming as if trying to speak. Their cries fell on deaf ears, but still they insisted.
"They had to die! They had to die, it was either them or me!"
With one last push, he flung himself out of the door, the bats following him outside. As they hit the sunlight, they instantly began to disintegrate into ash with the wind.
Huff... Huff...
He stared up at the sky, his breathing growing heavier as a sudden jolt of exhaustion ran through his body. He felt like jello, his gaze shifting in and out as his ears rang from the sudden loud noises of cars and sirens.
A man with long red hair ran towards him, instantly grabbing him by the back and checking him for wounds. Behind him, a woman with short snow-white hair and stoic eyes followed.
Simon put a shaky hand up, trying to stop the check-up, turning around to his knees. He began to vomit up his breakfast, squirming in pain.
"What's your name?" The red-haired man asks nervously, his voice having a few cracks in it.
"Simon... Simon Crest."
"How many casualties were there?" The woman asked, her scarred face and body getting closer to him, as she raised an eyebrow almost suspiciously.
"I don't fucking know—"
He could barely finish his sentence before he began to vomit again. Whenever he was done, he was practically dragged to a car, too weak from shock and exhaustion to pick himself up.
For most of the car ride, all he could do was stare down at his feet. His gaze was one of shock and horror, his eyes unable to close as if he had just woken up from a nightmare.
The blood on his clothes was drying like paint, but no one seemed to pay any heed. The next thing he knew, he was in an investigation room. The room had a singular window, only there to give people some sense of warmth or escape.
The faceless figure behind the glass in front of Simon trapped his fingers against the glass, snapping his attention back to him.
Tok! Tok!
"Hello? Can you hear me, Mr.Crest? I need you to help me do my job professionally."
Like a sloth, Simon's gaze lazily shifted towards the glass and away from the window. The figure cleared his throat.
"Just for safety purposes, can you please report your name?"
The sudden flash of the lights in front of the young man made him flinch and slam his eyes shut. His platinum blonde hair flew against the back of his neck from the winds, before he finally opened his eyes.
Swoosh!
"Simon Crest..."
"Signature and rank now."
"Probability: Grade A, Dissonantly Reformed stage."
The man talking to him behind the glass paused for a second. Beautiful sounds from gusts of wind coming from the window, the smell of heavy rain and night floating through.
"How many people died? Are you the only survivor?"
Simon's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the figure, a mix of fury and sadness boiling in his heart. He could feel tears forming in his eyes that he didn't let softly drop. A yell in his throat that he couldn't let fully out.
"Their blood is still on my clothes, and you're asking me... If I'm the only one left?"
"I understand how you feel, but we have to send a rescue team if there are."
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disgust. Simon knew he was right; he knew that he wasn't the only person that the Cognitive Hollow World Enforcement Bureau had to care for.
"Yes, I'm the only survivor." Simon exhaled with a sense of hatred, a dark silence suddenly surrounding the room.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
That was the only thing filling the room, the faint tapping from the faceless figure on the other side.
"It was reported there were bats following you, no? The monsters inside the Hollow World don't usually go so far up... Unless they were humans beforehand."
Simon's stone-like eyes shrank to the size of a pebble, his jaw tightening as his mind clouded with thoughts of storming out. He quickly shoved them down, as deep as he could, into his heart before slamming his hands on the table.
"Are you accusing me of turning them?!" Simon said, palms slowly balling into fists as he stared the figure down.
'It wasn't my fault, I didn't know it'd turn out like this.' He thought even deeper inside his mind, the memories of his actions held on by a tight thread.
"I never said I was accusing you. I said, they were humans beforehand, and I never said anything about you turning your squad mates specifically..."
Tap!
The figure stood up abruptly, seemingly staring Simon down, his hands hovering over some cube. Simon couldn't see them, but he could feel him looking into the obsidian of his eyes.
"Damn it! Think Simon, think—"
"Simon Crest, until further notice, you are being detained and investigated for being a part of, or having some type of involvement with, Project Icarus."
The words hit him harder than any physical blow; they were louder than any siren he could even begin to imagine. He jolted up towards the window, standing in front of it, unable to contain himself any longer.
"I just watched everyone I've lived with for the past six months die in front of my face, and you're accusing me of being a part of Project Icarus! All because I asked a question?! Who do you think you are—"
"I know I'm the best detective this place has ever seen. I'm certain you're a member, or perhaps you work solo; either way, I don't care, I trust my lapse in judgment. If I'm correct, then you're sloppy; if I'm wrong, then I would be very disappointed... But I'm never wrong."
"Disappointed?..."
Simon flinched at the word, but he still stepped closer to the glass. He could see the figure getting even closer to him, until his faint features came into view.
The man was slim, his eyes narrow like a snake's, with long hair that reached down his back like a river. A bandaged hand came to the glass, and he could see him smile.
"A red fox sees an opossum on the other side of a mountain that he cannot reach. Does the fox go around the mountain and hope to catch it, or sneak under the mountain? Both are wrong—the fox jumps over the mountain and pounces on it, entrapping its prey."
The figure stepped back, taking a seat once more before putting the cube in his hand down.
"Now, let's make this simpler for everyone here. Tell me everything that happened, and start from the beginning."
Simon knew he had no choice but to comply, so he also took a seat. A sense of defeat washed over him for a bit before his resolve tightened.
"This morning—"
"No. Start from when you joined the Bureau. This is more than just about this morning."
"...Fine."