He received a report at the "Nova Gas Station."
A radio call came through, the voice of a male officer: "Suspect carrying a modified firearm, type: shotgun, license unconfirmed, may possess uncertain quantities of Aniline granite. Remember, it's lethal even for you. Are you listening... David? Be careful, that PERSIST is just a prototype. Don't forget, it was made by the same team responsible for the Proxima Centauri Supernova." He, the one receiving the call, gazed at the night sky, unexpectedly dazzled by a single star.
Because of the star, the night felt like it was under a neon blue spotlight, casting down on us, revealing Earth to who knows how many species out in the Dark Forest.
The radio call wasn't over, "-.. . - . -.-. - .. ...- .," but David didn't hear it and ended the call.
He observed a small diamond-like structure with eight triangular faces, levitating just above his palm. It was caught in a perpetual state of melting and freezing, defying gravity.
Seeing it, he mused, "It never falters or collapses, yet it defies the laws, unlike me. Can this octahedron help me?" He began to ponder over it.
But the flickering streetlights caught his attention, and at the same time, the object began to melt in the crease of his palm, gradually, without him feeling it.
David saw a man glaring at him from inside the store, through the glass that halted his malevolent thoughts.
He noticed two cars in the parking lot in front of the store; one was active, currently charging its Xantheon GT, mostly used for long-distance travel, rarely seen on normal roads due to its complexity. "It seems we have international guests," he remarked suspiciously.
Glancing at a numberless, sleek black car, an old model from 1953, a Buick Wildcat I, it reminded him of his friend's old car, La Voiture Noire, which suited his profession.
Without any fear, he walked forward to confront the creepy guy. As he passed under the flickering streetlights, a bulb burst silently.
"What! Oh, shoot!" Glass shards narrowly missed his eyes, but he inhaled a mephitic vapor, and something fleshy fell to the ground, indiscernible as darkness enveloped everything.
His shadow merged with him; he heard faint breaths. The blue-red neon sign from the shop front beckoned him, but it offered no hope as he continued to see the word "Cry" while "Far" dimmed. It didn't help him in any way.
He walked forward as if nothing had happened, on guard, with a gun in his hand. The tactical light wasn't working; it had cracked when he recently fell into a river, pushed by prank-playing kids.
He heard the vroom of cars... only for their headlights to suddenly blink at him, signaling him to pass or risk being hit.
He didn't want to breach the law. He watched the Buick pass; its window was open, revealing only half of the driver's face—wrinkled skin, gray eyes, and it seemed he wore a top hat.
As the car passed, his doubts grew. He then looked at the store, where the lights seemed to have returned. There was no man glaring at him through the glass, but he was surprised, as he hadn't noticed the lights coming back on; he was too preoccupied trying to discern the appearance of the man in the car.
He walked up to the door, which didn't open until he pushed it, revealing a very eerie music track, one he doubted he had ever heard before.
Vigilance was his key as he scrutinized the retail shelves and closed doors; one in front of him, perhaps a storage room? The second one, to his far left near the vending machines, possibly a restroom?
He then turned his attention to the right, towards the counter desk, where an employee continued to glare at him. David's uniform and the obvious sign of danger in his hands deterred any confrontation.
It was good that David could read his surroundings; he holstered the sign of danger.
He noticed the employee, wearing a forced smile, struggling to speak, sweat clearly visible on his brow.
"Hey officer, the air's fresh and free, what do you want? You can take a look around our Far Cry Store," the employee said.
"Hey, lad—tell me—" David glanced at the employee's name tag and continued, "Romdo, are you implying I can only look but not buy anything?" David's tone was so serious it made Romdo nervous, causing him to falter.
But then David smiled, easing Romdo's tension, and said, "I'm serious. I literally mean, can I buy a furphy from you?" His gaze intensified once more.
"Sir—I mean—officer, you can ask me anything," Romdo replied, his voice timid, "except—!!" He repeated the word "except" just as a loud *slam* noise came from his left.
Startled, David turned to see what had caused the noise. "Hey—Romdo—!" But when he looked back, Romdo was no longer at the counter desk.
Confounded, David's suspicions rose. In a moment of uncertainty, he saw Romdo rising from under the desk, clutching a coin, oblivious to David's watchful eyes.
Romdo, perplexed, asked, "What happened? Is there something behind me?"
David remained silent and moved to his left, leaving Romdo even more bewildered.
As David passed the vending machine, it stirred, and a cold breeze swept through, ejecting a crab.
Surprised but undeterred, David approached the ajar restroom door.
He pushed the door open with slight tension in his hands, his other hand gripping his gun tightly.
Suddenly, a sharp noise pierced his ears, causing him to lose his grip and cover his ears. The noise strained his mind as he tried to peer into the empty restroom, where a strange object lay on the ground, indescribable through his pain.
As he moved forward, the noise became lower in pitch and sharper in tone, haunting him. He had to look back this time.
As he turned back, he saw a note on the ground. He picked it up and sprinted outside, noticing the crab still asleep near the vending machine, while Romdo was missing once again.
The lights were flickering, and he saw a weird, flashy thing inside the bulbs.
He wanted to inspect it, but at that moment, he heard the deafening *rat-tat-tat-tat* of automatic gunfire.
He ducked down and took cover in the fourth row, near one of the retail shelves.
He spotted a figure carrying two firearms, one firing continuously and the other slung over his back, likely his shotgun. A laser beam pointed near his direction but missed; the shooter didn't know David's location yet.
The figure moved from one direction to another, firing non-stop ammo as if he was fighting someone or trying to intimidate...
Amidst the clanging noise, the crab continued to sleep, seemingly used to the routine.
Frustrated by the earlier noise, David gripped his gun, took aim at the flickering bulbs, and after expending four rounds, he found himself enveloped in pitch darkness.
Moving slowly, crouching, he approached the entrance door but then heard a faint noise near his previous position. He had to decide: go back towards the noise or confront the maniac in the open.
Both options were risky, but he decided to follow his rational thoughts. He tried to see but couldn't, yet he was sure he saw someone's legs. As he confronted the figure from behind, he heard a scream. Following the voice, he grabbed the person and attempted to handcuff them, but then...
...he felt an unsettling sensation, his heart thumping as if to stop, the *crack* of gunshots ringing in his ears, his grip on his body loosening.
His vision was covered in a red haze as he saw his heart torn to pieces, flesh consumed by a bullet pinned to the floor.
With blood-stained eyes, he watched the note slip from his grasp:
"Do not look up, do not look down, do not turn back, do not turn front, wait for me, I came for f***h, bullets never sustain me. (Unreadable)"
-Bulb Finger.
To be continued...