Dawn in the city of Kusa was a time of day which remained almost unnervingly dark, yet despite the low light levels, the city – along with its inhabitants – all woke up and got started with the day. Men and women traversed the illuminated streets as they went to their places of employment, or to their homes after their respective night shifts. The number of cars on the roads also increased steadily as people began their daily commutes, and the city came to life.
Yet in a run-down part of town, which was not blessed with the infrastructure and maintenance of some of the more affluent parts of town, a couple of young street rats stumbled down an alleyway. As they twitched and sniffed while walking, one of them stripped over something and hit the floor, halting their progress. The one that tripped, as well as the one that didn’t both looked towards the wall and saw a person on the floor, pressed against the wall. He was dressed in an incredibly creased and somewhat dirty suit, and the two young men remained silent as they looked at him, before looking at each other.
“…i-is he dead?” The one that tripped asked his mate.
“…fuck if I know.”
“Should we call an ambulance?”
“What we should fuckin do is check him for valuable shit and get the fuck outta here.”
The two approached the hunched over man slowly, whilst one of them attempted to check his pulse by placing two fingers on the back of his head.
“I don’t feel anything.” He said as he sniffed rather hard.
“Alright, let’s sit him up so we can—”
The other street rat wasn’t able to finish giving his instructions as the ‘dead’ man’s pocket suddenly started vibrating and playing a surprisingly upbeat ringtone. Both men jumped back and recoiled just a tad, before calming down and looking at each other with panic-stricken faces. The phone continued to ring, but after a few seconds, the two calmed down moved closer to the man once more. As one reached down to try and grab the phone, probably to try and silence it before sliding it into his own pocket, the supposedly dead man suddenly snorted loudly as he came to. His hand darted into his breast pocket and pulled the phone out with lightning speed. The phone was then brought to his ear and answered just as quickly, before the corpse spoke.
“…Langa.” He said in an almost criminally raspy voice.
“Fuck me Detective, how many times must you be called before you answer the damn phone? We’ve got a fresh crime scene that is right up your alley. I’ll text you the address, so hurry up and get your ass over here!”
“…roger.”
“Oh, and for the love of all that is holy, please freshen up before you come – you sound rough as hell!”
“…roger.”
Detective Langa then hung up the phone as his arm went limp by his side. He spent a few moments catching his breath and seemingly orienting himself, but the latter appeared to be a little easier said than done. Without even looking up at the two men who were trying to loot his unconscious body, the Detective reached up and grabbed both men’s necks, displaying the type of speed and strength that neither of them was expecting.
“…where are we right now?”
“W-What?!’ One of them asked, which only earned his neck an even tighter grip than the one it was currently being applied.
The Detective then looked towards the other one, waiting for an answer.
“I-In an alley off of Beard Street!” He practically roared.
“…where is the Club Foot?””
“Club Foot?! At the end of the alley, across the damn street!!’
Seemingly satisfied with the answers he had received, Langa released the two young men by literally throwing them off, causing them both to smash their backs against the opposite wall. He then struggled to his feet, using a trash can as leverage to help him up before stumbling a bit and almost falling right back over. The world appeared to be spinning for the Detective, and it took every bit of concentration and willpower for the man to stay on his feet. Without wasting any more time on his would-be corpse looters, he forced his way down the alley, swaying this way and that. Crossing the street in his state was a literal game of life and death, but he managed to do so without being flattened by oncoming traffic. The Detective then leaned against wall next to the entrance of the Club Foot – one of the many watering holes in the area – before opening the door and bumbling his way in. As if they had been waiting on the Detective’s entrance, everybody within the Club Foot turned to look at him in unison. Some looked disappointed, while others looked excited.
“What’s the time?!” One of them asked.
“5:45 in the morning! Pay up, bitches!” Another obnoxiously responded while doing a bit of a dance.
The men and women that were either grumbling or cheering were quite clearly members of waitstaff. As money exchanged hands, one of them looked at Detective Langa with a grin on his face.
“Yo Langa! Thank you for actually waking up and coming in before we officially close for fuckin’ once!”
“Yeah man, we truly appreciate you finding a closer spot to pass out in!” Another chortled.
The Detective just walked as though he didn’t hear a single word before barging into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. After a few retches while hunched over the filthy toilet bowl, Detective Langa’s stomach was purged of whatever was consumed the night before – which appeared to be nothing but fluids. He then proceeded to void his bladder before plodding over to the bathroom sink. He took both his trench coat and blazer off, shoddily hanging them up looking at himself in the mirror for a few moments in complete silence. His afro was us unkempt as one could get, his facial hair was untidy, his skin was dry, the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced and darker than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked about as unhealthy and rough as be – and that was before taking his clothes into consideration. He reached for a loose brick and pulled it out, revealing a secret supply of toiletries which were pulled out and readied for use. Langa then unbuttoned his shirt and opened it so as to gain access to his armpits, before proceeding to have an extremely quick and light bath which was basically just him wiping his torso and pits with a damp cloth, washing his face, and then used the toiletries he had picked out. He quickly got dressed again, before applying some cologne and put everything back in the hiding place and made his way out of the bathroom.
Langa walked right to the bar, where a fresh, steaming hot cup of black coffee was waiting for him. A handsome looking man around the Detective’s age stood behind the counter, shaking his head as he looked at this man who barely looked alive.
“You didn’t even shave, P?” The man behind the counter asked.
“No time.” Langa responded after taking a disturbingly large sip of his piping hot coffee. “I have to go.”
“Dude, at least go home and change your clothes.”
“I said there was no time.” He repeated, downing the rest of the coffee.
“…fucking hell, dude.” The barkeep grimaced as he watched the Detective inhale the coffee.
He then reached beneath said counter and pulled out a series of items, including a badge, a gun with a holster, handcuffs, and car keys. Detective Langa scooped everything up and after clipping and sliding it all into the appropriate places, simply nodded at the barman and walked off. His legs were still unsteady, but he was no longer stumbling like a newborn deer. After the Detective exited the bar, one of the waitstaff approached the barman.
“So, uh Boss, I have a question.”
“What is it, Victoria?”
“That Langa dude? Who is he? He’s pretty much here every night, and drinks more booze than a party of four alcoholics at an open bar. He leaves all that shit with you – including a damn gun, and then comes back every morning to collect his shit.”
“That is Detective Pious Langa, one of Kusa City’s finest, and a close personal friend. He hands his shit over to me because he refuses to get hammered with those belongings in particular on his person, and he gets hammered because he has his reasons.”
“Which are?”
“None of your business.” The man said with a scowl.
“Okay, okay Lorenzo… damn. He’s such a fuckin’ mess.”
After a few moments of awkward silence passed, Victoria spoke again.
“…so, is he single, then?”
“…”
In the parking lot behind the bar, Detective Langa had just climbed into the most cliché cop car one could imagine, yet it was also beat to shit. Dents, scratches and dings adorned the entire car, yet it started right up, engine ran smooth as butter, and there was not a misfire nor a puff of smoke in sight. He spent a few minutes in the car, as if waiting to recover a touch more before driving off. A few moments later, the obnoxiously loud car drove out of the parking lot and the Detective made his way to the crime scene.
Meanwhile, at said crime scene, things had already become somewhat hectic. News vans and reporters all stood just beyond the crime scene tape, barely being kept at bay by the officer stationed there to keep them out. They continuously bellowed at anybody who was part of the force – whether in forensics or a uniformed officer – trying to get some kind of a statement or comment. The sheer number of police personnel that were present only served to spur the journalists and anchors on, causing them to be as persistent as humanly possible. There were a few men and women in suits standing around the scattered remains of whoever had been attacked. They had been standing in silence for a while, until a shorter man covered his mouth and looked to the side.
“Damn…” He said in a muffled, yet clearly disgusted voice. “How can this dude be this torn up, yet still recognisable as a dude?”
“Really, Detective Corazon?” A female detective asked.
“How much blood does the average human body have in it? It’s as of Pablo van Mozart went crazy with a bucket of red paint on these fuckin’ walls.”
“Pablo von who?!”
“You know, the sculptor dude.”
“Would you shut up, Corazon.” An older gentleman with a moustache ordered before pulling his cigar out of his mouth. “I already called Detective Langa. That guy might be a colossal fuck up of a human being, but he has an eye for cases like these.”
“Yeah, that’s if he’s able to even stand.”
“You know that’s right.” Another detective said from a distance.
“Detective Burton, do you even have the right to chastise another whilst standing all the way over there?”
“I don’t do dead bodies Chief – you already know that.”
“How your dumb ass became a Detective, I’ll never fuckin’ know.”
While the Chief and his Detectives were bickering, a supercar pulled up to the crime scene – and parked right next to the members of the media. A scissor door slid up, and out stepped a tall, well dressed and practically sparkly man. Designer clothes adorned him from head to toe, and he made a show of fixing and buttoning up his jacket. He then walked right across all of the cameras to the tape, where the officer that was stationed there lifted it to give him access to the crime scene.
“Detective.” The officer mumbled.
“Tommy.”
“It’s Officer Carlson.”
The Detective just breezed past Carlson and made his way to the corpse. The Chief and the other detectives all looked at the new arrival as he made his grand entrance, with the Chief looking him over and shaking his head.
“How many times have I told you to stop wearing those fuckin’ shiny suits to work, Kavish? You keep trying to have the Department compensate you when they and those cars of yours get damaged, but you never listen when people are speaking to you.”
“So, what have we got, people? Give me the short version.”
“Who the Hell do you think you are, Kavish? Do you see any uniforms here? Do we look like your assistants? Crouch next to the mess and pretend to look it over thoroughly like the rest of us did!”
Detective Kavish didn’t respond to the colleague that admonished him, but ended up doing exactly what was suggested – even making terribly obvious statements like ‘there are body parts missing’ and ‘this person was killed’ while looking entirely too serious. Everybody just watched in stunned silence as he did his thing, before the familiar burble of a muscle car alerted them all to the impending arrival of yet another colleague. This prompted the Chief to nod at the Detectives and walk out the crime scene from the back, so as to avoid the media. He rushed to the main access road to the alley where the crime scene was and waited. Sure enough, the beat up, black car appeared from around the corner, and the Chief then waved it down.
“Chief Freeman.” Langa said after coming to a stop and rolling down his window.
The Chief was breathing rather heavily and grimaced in discomfort as he caught his breath.
“Quickly, unlock the door so we can go to the crime scene.”
“Roger.”
Detective Langa unlocked the car and Freeman made his way over, before climbing into the car. Before he could close the door however, Langa stopped him.
“No Chief, no smoking in this car.”
“Seriously, Langa?”
“You know the rules Chief.”
“This car is a piece of shit, Detective. For you to even care about something as trivial as—”
“Feel free to walk back.”
“Okay, okay!” Chief Freeman barked before putting the cigar out and stuffing it into his breast pocket.
He then closed the door, and the Detective drove off – as his boss just stared at him while shaking his head.
“I thought I told you to freshen up, Langa.”
“You did, so I did.”
“THIS is you looking fresh? I don’t even want to imagine what you looked and smelled like when you woke up. Anyway, this appears to be the fourth killing done by the same… people? I mean, for one person to do all this is just…”
The Detective did not respond as the pulled up to the back of the crime scene, before both men hopped out. They ducked under the tape and as they approached the group, almost everybody who was present recoiled a tad.
“Damn, Langa.” Corazon said while shaking his head.
“I see you’re still in that suit, too.” A different female detective remarked.
“At least he doesn’t smell.” Detective Burton said with a thumbs up.
“Sanibonani.” (Hello [plural]) Langa greeted without looking at or responding to anybody.
He just went straight to the remains and began examining them. Meanwhile, Chief Freeman started looking around with some concern.
“Where did that idiot go?”
“He said something about fetching some shit from his car.” Someone responded with a shrug.
The Chief immediately made a beeline for Detective Kavish, the concern on his face having escalated even further. As it turned out, his worries were valid, as he found his detective standing in front of the media, giving them an impromptu briefing.
“Due to the number of victims, the manner and brutal nature of the killings, the missing body parts, the almost ritualistic blood paintings on the wall, we believe this to be the work of some kind of cult.”
“A cult?”
“Yes, that’s right. Perhaps the mutilating and removal of body parts is to appease a certain deity, or even—”
Kavish was unable to finish what he was saying as he was rather forcefully pulled from behind and dragged away.
“What the fuck?!” Kavish boomed, before he was dragged back into the alley and pressed against a clean section of the wall.
“You took the words right out of my fucking mouth! What part of no talking to the press did you NOT understand?!” Chief Freeman absolutely roared.
“What?! You said that?!”
“YES!!”
“WHEN?!”
“AFTER THE SECOND MURDER!” The entire group of Detectives boomed in unison, together with their boss.
“…oh, right.” Detective Kavish said before grinning sheepishly. “My bad.”
A simultaneous groan echoed through the alley before the Chief released Kavish with a shake of the head.
“How you became a fucking Detective, I will never know. Anyway, Langa, what have you got?”
There was no response, which caused him to look around once again.
“Where the fuck is Langa now?!”
“He said that he had seen all he needed to.” Burton said with a shrug.
“Argh! Why are you all even here if you can’t stop these two from doing as they please?!”
As Freeman stomped off to go find Langa, the man himself was just standing at the alley’s entrance, staring up at the gloomy, dark and cloudy sky. He stared at it as though he was seeing something entirely different to everybody else, and this had even prompted a few cameramen and anchors to look up at the sky as well, as if waiting to see what exactly the Detective was looking at. A few of the members of the media attempted to get his attention, almost taking turns in calling out to him, but the Detective continued to just stare at the sky. One voice eventually managed to get through to him however, and it belonged to a rather small, soft spoken woman holding a microphone that looked comically large in her hands.
“Excuse me Detective.” She called. “We have heard from a source that the police suspect these brutal murders to be the work of a cult, carrying out some kind of ritual. Is that true?”
Detective Langa’s head slowly came down as his gaze immediately became fixed on the anchor that asked him the question. He the started walking towards her, with his hands buried deep within his pockets and his bloodshot eyes unblinking. He reached the media as they all began bombarding him with questions, yet he paid no attention to the rest and continued to stare at the woman.
“In all four of these killings, there are cuts, there are no slices, nothing has been extracted, preserved, removed with any care. There are teeth and claw marks, yet none of them match with teeth and claws of any animals that are indigenous to our City, and out Province. There are no signs of the missing organs and body parts having been removed – however it does look like they were eaten whilst still in the bodies. Whichever source you got this information from was lazy in its work, and irresponsible in releasing its findings – especially after we were placed on a gag order by the Department. Excuse me.”
Chief Freeman, who was unable to get to Langa in time, simply sighed and looked up to the sky himself as his detective was being bombarded with even more questions. Meanwhile in a home in a nice part of the city, a family was having breakfast in the kitchen. A young girl on the cusp of her teenaged years sat with a bowl of cereal in front of her while trying to get the attention of her mother.
“What is it, Didi?” The mother annoyingly answered as she looked up from the kitchen sink.
“Langa is on TV.” The girl pointed out before going back to eating her cereal.
A rerun of his impromptu press briefing was being aired, and the mother turned the volume up just as a boy who was younger than the girl walked into the kitchen as well.
“Oh, it’s Langa!” He excitedly exclaimed before taking a seat next to Didi and starting to eat.
“He doesn’t look as bad as we’ve seen in recent time, to be honest. Must be due to the case.” The woman said.
“Yeah, but he’s been drinking.” The girl responded. “Just look at him.”
“He looks like he slept in a trash can.” The boy said, sounding rather amused by it all.
“He looks like he hasn’t slept in a million years.” The girl responded.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“That’s because he doesn’t sleep – he blacks out.” A man said as he walked in and approached the mom. “Morning, Baby.”
“Good morning.” She responded as they exchanged a quick hug and kiss.
“Who is Langa causing trouble for this time?” The man said with barely contained disdain.
“Nobody, Craig. He’s just answering a question.” Didi said, defending Langa.
“We interrupt this pre-recorded video to bring you LIVE crime scene developments! Detectives Kavish and Langa are currently embroiled in some kind of dispute with one another! Let’s listen in!”
The anchor moved to the give people a clear view of Kavish and Langa having a moment, right in front of the media. Kavish was becoming increasingly aggressive, with his posturing and body language indicating as much. Meanwhile, Detective Langa was paying his colleague absolutely no attention, as he had resumed his sky gazing activities. As if he wasn’t even hearing all the expletives he was being called, Langa didn’t even react when he was pushed in the chest, which only served to infuriate Kavish even further. The flashy detective then grabbed his colleague by the lapels, and then slapped him hard – much to the surprise of everybody present. The other detectives had been rushing towards the pair to try and break them up, but they were too late. Chief Freeman looked as though he was about to have a brain aneurysm and the slap finally got Kavish Langa’s attention.
“Yeah, how’d you like that, you cunt?! You think you can just embarrass me on TV by calling me lazy and get away with it? Huh?!”
Detective Langa spent a few more moments staring at the sky, before his eyes looked down at Kavish.
“Have you ever noticed how the sun never comes out in his forsaken city? No matter the season, the time of day, the temperature… it’s always the same. As if there is something purposely blocking us off from the sun.”
“…huh?” Kavish asked as he tilted his head to the side, clearly confused.
“When you look up at the sky, what do you see, Kavish?”
“What do you mean, what do I see? I see the sky and shit.”
This answer made Langa close his eyes and sigh, taking a deep breath as he did.
“Listen, if you value your right arm, you will release me and back off as quickly as you got in my face, or things won’t end well for you.”
“Huh?! Is that a threat, motherfuck-—”
Before Detective Kavish could finish his question, Langa had raised both of his hands and gripped the right forearm he had just referenced, squeezed tightly, pushed both hands in with such force and speed that there were two simultaneous cracks which were louder than they had any right to be, and then just as quickly as he had grabbed Kavish’s arm, Langa released it and had his hands flop back down to his sides. Detective Kavish let out an almighty scream while Langa went back to staring at the sky, completely unbothered and unmoving as everybody around him reacted to what they had just witnessed.
Back at the house, the two children watched the TV screen in stunned silence, while their mother groaned and face palmed herself. The man smirked as he shook his head, before grabbing some food to go.
“Good old Pious Langa – he never fails to fail, does he?”
A few hours later down at the precinct, Chief Freeman was in his office, holding a phone to his ear while clearly taking a verbal beating. The number of times he said things like ‘yes sir’ and ‘I understand’ must have numbered in the hundreds before a particularly angry sounding goodbye bookended the call. Chief Freeman took a few seconds to calm himself and collect his thoughts while staring at his desk, before slowly looking up to see Langa’s completely unbothered face looking right back at him. The older man could feel his rage bubbling up, but managed to keep it contained.
“So, that was the Commissioner… he wants to know when you’ll be fired and charged with assault.”
“Fire me, and I’ll sue, Chief. There are countless witnesses that saw Kav slap me first. I simply defended myself.”
“Yeah, well it’s not like you slapped him back or something – you broke his forearm in two fucking places!”
“He tried to break my jaw.”
“With an open hand?! His soft, callous free hands couldn’t break an egg.”
“Why don’t we let him slap you then, Chief?”
“I don’t need him to slap me across the face when I have the Commissioner trying to ram his fist up my ass, The Mayor is already unleashing a 16 hit hyper combo in that poor bastard’s sphincter, hence him trying to share the pain with me.”
“Why is the Mayor even getting involved?” Langa asked, even though he clearly didn’t care.
“Because you broke his son’s arm!” Freeman boomed as he slammed both hands on his desk. “The only reason you haven’t been suspended or worse is because of the fact that the fight was caught on camera. People want to see you gone from here, Pious. You have absolutely NO sympathisers in here, and they are looking for any excuse to get rid of you. You’re a walking fucking cliché of a Detective that’s on the edge but survives because he closes cases. Stop giving these motherfuckers a reason, Pious. You’ve alienated yourself from them and created separation, but that doesn’t mean they don’t wanna see you fall. There’s only so much I can do to protect you, man. But you’ve got to keep your head down… and not break any more police officer arms.”
“You make it sound like I just go around snapping arms.”
“Far worse than that has happened to those around you, Pious.”
There was a period of silence in the office, as not only had Freeman’s tone and demeanor changed, but so too had the atmosphere within the office itself. Detective Langa looked at his superior before standing up.
“I’m assuming that we’re done now, Sidney?”
“We are.”
“Then let me get back to the crime scene – we were pulled away so quickly after the scuffle that I just want to look it over again.”
“Fuck, go home first, Pious. Have something to eat, a shower – Hell, maybe even SLEEP – and only then are you permitted to go anywhere near that crime scene.”
Langa just nodded slightly before walking out of the office and through the building. All of the detectives present on the floor looked at Langa with barely contained dislike, and even disgust. A few backed away, others made gestures, while a few were downright hostile towards him.
“So, what, since you no longer have partners to take out, you decided to go for mine? Is that it, you piece of shit?!” A rather aggressive sounding man roared.
Langa just walked and paid everybody no attention at all. He got to his desk which was tastefully decorated with expletives that were written in permanent marker, carved into the wood and even painted on, pictures of a number of officers and detectives, as well as some other stuff. The detective simply pulled out a few of his belongings before making his way out of the building to a chorus of insults. As he stepped out of the building, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps alerted Langa to the impending presence of somebody.
“Detective Langa!” A female voice called out.
By the time the approaching woman burst out of the door, she found Langa staring up at the sky and let out a sigh of relief at having caught up to him.
“Oh, thank goodness I caught you.” She said between breaths. “I just wanted to let you know that everyone saw that lecherous Kav accost you. He was clearly the aggressor, as well as the attacker. Everybody in there is just being a little extra – please don’t take it to heart.”
“Officer Richards.” Langa said rather softly. “When you look up at the sky, what do you see?”
“…e-excuse me?” Officer Richards stammered, before quickly looking up at the grey skies as well. “Well, I see… dark clouds… uh, smoke… birds… uh…”
“What don’t you see?”
“Uhhhhh… the… sun?”
“Have you ever wondered why, Officer?”
“…no, I can’t say that I have, Detective. This has always been a dark, gloomy city. I just always figured we were destined to live in relative darkness.”
“…huh.”
The officer, who had been caught off guard by the fact that the Detective had even spoken to her, looked at him to see if she had answered well when all she saw was his back as he walked off. Despite looking slow, his gait was pronounced and he covered ground rapidly. Before she could even call out to him, Langa had disappeared into the sea of cars in the parking lot. A 30-minute drive later, he had pulled up to a rather sorry looking apartment building. After parking the car, Langa entered the building through the rear entrance and ascended the stairs as opposed to riding the janky lift. His apartment was on the top floor however, and this meant he had quite the walk ahead of him. He made it to his apartment door with only a few stumbles and slow-wobbles, but the familiar sound of the door to the apartment directly opposite his opening caused him to sigh just a tad.
“Mrs. Kitrakis.”
“How many days has it been since you were last here?” An elderly woman asked suspiciously.
“I work, Mrs. Kitrakis. Sometimes I don’t come home. Have a nice day.”
Langa simultaneously opened the door and slid in through the tiny gap he made for himself, so as to block the nosey old woman from peeping into his apartment as she so often tried to do. Both people had their reasons for doing so, and the reason was actually the same – Langa’s apartment was anything but normal. There were no walls or partitions, the entire apartment was just one giant room which appeared to be completely empty at first glance. The interior was completely black, yet there was always sufficient lighting. He took a few steps in and opened a hidden compartment to his left which revealed a coat rack that he promptly hung his coat on. Another compartment revealed a shoe rack, on which he placed his shoes before stepping further into his home. His fridge and shower were built into the walls, much like all the other compartments in the apartment, and after disrobing and tossing his clothes into the washing basket. He stepped into his shower, which had multiple lights that switched on the moment he got in, and the water immediately hit his body. The lights revealed all manor of things about him and body, such as how he was in absolutely phenomenal physical condition in spite of how he lived his life, a disturbing number of scars as well as what looked to be a massive tattoo on his back in the shape of a wing, that was absolutely riddled with lengthy scars – as if a blade had been taken to it and an inhumane amount of cuts were etched into it. Once finished with his shower, the Detective went to a wall and opened the fridge, revealing the contents of said fridge – water. He removed a single bottle and gulped it down in one go, before tossing the bottle into yet another compartment. He walked over to the middle of another wall and pressed a button, after which a large panel slid open, and a bed proceeded to fold out from the wall. Langa stared at the bed for the longest time, continuing to do so long after the impressive show had come to an end. It looked as if he was contemplating whether or not climbing into bed was a good idea, but when he thought of how long it had been since he last slept, and just how ragged his body was at that point, he decided to go for it.
‘Just a quick 10-minute nap should be fine.’ He though to himself as he walked to the bed.
As he reached it, instead of climbing onto it, he actually got on the floor and slid under it, inching his body along the floor tiles until his body was completely covered. He then pressed a button that was on the bed’s frame which lowered even more panels along the sides of the mattress, which touched the ground and completely encased the Detective. After a passage of time in which Langa had no idea when he fell asleep, he woke up and found himself no longer within the confines of his bed cage, with his back pressed against a wall whilst in the fetal position and completely DRENCHED in sweat, yet shivering as he felt cold as ice. He was clutching his head tightly with his hands, and his throat was hoarse, as if he had been yelling or screaming for the longest time. He had no idea how he got there, but within minutes of regaining consciousness, Langa unfurled himself and got on his feet while shaking his head rapidly. After shaking the cobwebs, he checked the time and just sighed.
“Not even half an hour this time.” He said to himself as he moved to the hidden bathroom once more to have yet another shower.
The second was far quicker than the first, and once it was done, Langa quickly got dressed in a crisp grey suit with a white shirt and red tie. He even picked out a fresh coat, and despite having rested, showered, combed his hair and gotten dressed in fresh clothes, he still looked every bit as rough as he had in the morning. After holstering his service weapon, clipping his badge to his belt, Detective Langa folded his bed away, and closed every single open panel before putting his shoes on and leaving. He made his way down to the car, and then left for the crime scene from the morning. The commute took a little longer than the Detective would have liked due to the congestion on the roads, however there was nothing that could be done about that as most of the inhabitants of the city were driving home. Once he arrived at his destination, Langa hopped out the car and made his way towards the taped off area. The light levels in Kusa were already absolute piss, so as they dwindled, she wasn’t bathed in the purples, pinks and oranges other places would be blanketed in at dusk. Rather, everything was a muddy grey, and the clouds formed a kind of smog, making the sky unbearably unpleasant to look at for most. As the Detective stepped over the crime scene tape, he approached the bloody spot where the remains once were, and just stood there with his hands in his pockets. A stiff breeze suddenly kicked up and swept through the alley, but Langa did not move. He just stared at the dry blood on the ground until his right eye started twitching. His eye twitched and his skin started to itch, mildly at first, but as the minutes went by, the itching and twitching intensified until Langa was no longer able to ignore them.
He pressed his open palm against his left eye and stumbled as if he was struggling to stay standing. Suddenly, everything for Langa went black, before it all went red moments later. He didn’t know when it happened, but Langa was on the floor with his back against the alley wall as a strange black substance appeared in front of him. Whatever it was, it was constantly changing shape and even changing its texture, going from thick and liquid, to almost ethereal and vapour-esque. Whatever it was, it swept over the entire crime scene, swirling about as if it was looking for something. The Detective on the other hand made sure to keep his right eye open and focused on the substance, barely even blinking in the process. While he was unaware of it, his right eye itself was glowing bright red, and it followed the black stuff diligently. The entire process lasted no longer than ten minutes, and once the black substance was done, it actually came back to Langa before things went dark again. He got to his feet as he braced himself against the wall before opening his eye again. It was all still red, however his eye scanned every part of the alley as he slowly stumbled down it. Tiny slivers of the substance from before would occasionally flicker and dance past his face, as if informing him where to look, with a higher number of them appearing the further he walked until there was an entire swarm of them, buzzing and squirming. Langa crouched down and reached into the swarm, before all of the little swarming things crawled up his arm. As quickly as they covered his arm though, they disappeared along with the red filter the Detective had been looking through. Instead, there was something that looked like a tooth in the palm of his hand and a single sliver of the black substance. Upon completion of the entire strange fever dream type process, Detective Langa suddenly hunched over vomited prodigiously. The Once that was done, he stood up and wiped his mouth with some wet wipes he kept in his coat before walking back to the car. The walk back to his car was slightly unsteady, but Langa made it back to the car relatively smoothly, before climbing in. After a brief recovery period, the car was started and drove off.
Meanwhile, atop the roof on a nearby high-rise apartment building, two people dressed in black hooded robes watched as Langa left the area.
“So that is supposed to be the hope of House Loh-Melelo?! He’s so weak, he not only cannot use his abilities consciously, he even vomits after barely even using them? Really?” One of the hooded figures said, sounding anything but impressed.
The other person said nothing, but slowly turned to look at the one who had spoken. Immediately afterwards, a substance similar to the one that Langa had used wrapped itself around the unimpressed figure’s wrists and neck, forcing them to take a knee and lower their head.
There was the briefest of struggles before the one being attacked stopped resisting. The black tendrils that the substance had shaped itself into released the person, who then raised their open right palm as a means of apology, but their companion simply turned around and walked off in the direction Detective Langa had walked off in.
“…come.”
The other figure stood up straight and did just that without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. Meanwhile in the car, Langa was driving while holding the tooth tightly in his right hand. His right eye was still glowing a bit, and it was as if he was looking for the black substance again. That said, each time his eye would twitch, he would take a turn, or go down a different road and the further he drove, the more the tooth in his hand would heat up. As he pulled up to a part of the city that looked like it was freshly removed from a nuclear apocalypse, the tooth had become so hot that the Detective actually had to let it go. It dropped onto the floor of the car, and actually burned through the carpet, glowing bright red as it did. Langa looked at the tooth, before looking at the establishment he had parked across the street from. It was a tavern which served the absolute dregs of Kusa. Detective Langa spent a few moments looking at his palm, which had a tooth shaped burn in the centre of its palm, and sighed. Just as he was about to step out of the car, his phone started ringing. He saw the name of the caller and was gripped with apprehension and anxiety. He stared at the phone until it was right on the cusp of having the call stop before he answered.
“…hi.”
“…wait, what? He actually answered? Langa, hi!” A young female voice beamed.
“Is something wrong, Didi? Why did you call?”
“Why must something be wrong for me to call?? Junior and I saw you on TV earlier, and wanted to see if YOU were okay.”
“…why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were in a fight, Langa! Everyone saw!”
“Oh, that? I wasn’t in a fight; I was in an ass kicking – and I did all the kicking. Only one of us left the altercation with a broken arm.”
“You know that’s right!” Didi boomed as the sound of a high five echoed, which was swiftly followed by the clearing of a throat.
“Hello, Junior.” Langa said in a gentle voice.
“Langa.” A young boy responded.
“Samke. Bheki.”
“How are you, P.L?” Samke asked in an almost hushed tone.
“Same as always, to be honest.”
“Ukephi manje?” (Where are you right now?”
“Chasing down a lead.”
“I should have known. Sorry for calling unannounced – the rugrats saw you on TV this morning and have been asking to call all day. They even finished their homework, did all their chores and were on their best behavior.”
“…so, you bribed them with this call?”
“How else am I supposed to get them to listen? Anyway, we saw you on TV as well… you looked—”
“Like you slept in a dumpster!” Didi called.
“Didintle!” Samke scolded before speaking again after a brief silence. “Yeah, what she said. When last did you sleep? Like naturally?”
“Not counting earlier today? I can’t even remember.”
“You actually slept today?! When? For how long?!”
“After I was given the rest of the day off, and for less than an hour.”
“…how’d you wake up?”
“On the floor, drenched in sweat and in the fetal position.”
“Crap.”
“Anyway, I’ve got to go – I’ve been out here long enough.”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for answering.”
“Langa, wait!” Didi boomed again. “Before you go, please don’t drink tonight.”
“Huh?” The Detective responded.
“Didi!” Samke scolded.
“You looked like you were going to pass out and never wake up this morning! You never look healthy, and every time you drink, you look like a zombie or something the next morning.”
“Didintle! He has his reasons!”
“Yeah, but it hurts to see him like that!” Didi managed to stammer out, clearly sounding like she was trying to hold back tears.
There was silence on the line as both everybody involved in the conversation just listened to Didi as she regained her composure before continuing.
“…it hurts because it looks like you could get robbed and killed by some loser junkies or something.”
“…that almost happened this morning.” Langa guiltily thought out loud.
“What?” Samke gasped.
“Nothing.”
“You’re supposed to be the strongest man in the world, Langa. When you drink, you—”
“That’s enough, Didintle.” Samke said in a slightly emotional sounding voice herself. “That’s enough.”:
There was yet another lull before the child spoke again.
“Please don’t drink tonight. Please, Daddy.”
“…okay, I promise.”
Langa responded after remaining silent for what felt like an age, before abruptly hanging up. Things in the house were a little tense, as Didi wiped a rogue tear that had made its way down her cheek before snorting and making a brave face. Samke patted her head gently a few times.
“He’s not going to drink tonight.” Didi exclaimed happily.
This drew a scoff from Bheki who just walked towards the fridge.
“As if. He probably just downed a quart right now.”
“Actually, he said he wasn’t going to drink, so he isn’t going to drink!” Didi stated defiantly.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah it is! I’ll bet on it!”
“Name your stakes, lil girl.” Bheki snorted as he approached the child.
“Junior and I need some new games for our handhelds. You buy us each three games if Langa doesn’t drink, and we get to choose them!”
“What happens if he does drink?”
“Uhhh… we wash your car every weekend for six months!”
“DEAL!” Bheki boomed as he slammed his hands on the kitchen counter, before pointing at Didi. “You’d better not go back on your word! We have witnesses!”
“Same to you, old man!” Didi said with a sly grin plastered on her face, before both she and the quiet Junior walked off.
“…you just got played, Bheki.” Samke said with a sigh as she waved at her children.
“What are you talking about? There’s no way Pious doesn’t break that fucking promise. He’s an alcoholic.”
“Not once in all the years she’s been able to speak has Langa broken a promise he’s made to Didi after she hit him with the two magic words.”
“Huh?”
“Please Daddy – once she says those words, there’s not a force on this earth that will cause that man to break his promise. Ready your wallet Bheki, you’re about to buy some games.”
Samke kissed Bheki on the cheek before walking off and leaving him alone in the lounge, looking worried. Meanwhile, Langa had exited the car and made his way into the bar. It was truly the epitome of a shithole. The interior mirrored the neighbourhood, with all manner of refuse and rubble littering the floor. Sticky patches of spilled drinks and food, what looked to be dried vomit with chunks and other bits of particulate, dry blood on the counter and walls – it was just an absolute pig sty. Yet, it had many a patron within, and said patrons were drinking without giving the environment they were drinking in so much as a second thought. The Detective, who had slid his badge along his belt so as to hide it from plain sight, walked to the bar counter, behind which stood somebody who threw Langa off for a second. In this absolute shit-stain of an establishment stood a man dressed in a three-piece suit, with a tail coat, what looked like knee-high boots and a top hat. The sleeves of both the coat and the shirt he was wearing beneath were rolled up and the top hat sat at a slight angle on his head. Yet despite there being a disconnect between this man’s outfit and the bar, his actual physical appearance looked as though it belonged. His skin was ashy and incredibly unhealthy, he was very thin, his eyes were yellow, lips were dry and chapped – he just looked like a crack addict of the highest order. He was busy drying some glasses when Langa reached the counter, and the two men locked eyes. They stared at each other for the longest time without speaking or so much as blinking. All of the ambient sounds of bottles and glasses banging against tabletops, burps, retches, mumbles, everything just went quiet. Everything in the backgrounds of each man’s vision went blurry and all they could focus on was each other. Even time itself appeared to slow down, and Langa instinctively closed his left eye, as if to ‘see’ better. The man behind the counter simply grinned at Langa, while the Detective’s face had broken out into a rather intense scowl. The man with the top hat continued to look at Langa, before suddenly having his eyes baulk for an instant. He saw something that caught his eye, and quickly broke eye contact before looking down at the floor for a second before looking back up, yet still avoiding eye contact.
“Good evening, Sir.” The man said with a heavy drawl. “Get you a drink?”
“No… I’m not drinking tonight.”
“Is that so? Well, we do have a wide range of non-alcoholic beverages for you, ranging from sodas, to freshly squeezed juices.”
“…you guys squeeze here… here?” Langa enquired incredulously.
“Indeed, we do! We use only the freshest fruits, vegetables and steaks in all our juices!”
The smile and pride with which this strange man revealed that they juice steaks caused Langa to recoil just a bit, before he awkwardly raised his hand and shook his head.
“I’ll pass on the juice, thanks. Just give me a diet soda – not freshly squeezed, thanks.”
“Freshly squeezed soda ain’t a thing, my good Sir. Regular diet soda, coming up!”
The Detective’s eyes remained glued on the strange man, who pulled a can of soda out from the fridge behind him, placing it on the counter along with a glass.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No – not right now, thanks.”
Langa took his drink and looked for a relatively clean spot in the corner to sit in. There was no such thing as a relatively clean spot in the bar, so he ended up sitting on the tray his drink was on and quietly observed the patrons in the bar. He had carried the tooth with him into the bar and held it in his right hand the entire time. Due to the fact that it had cooled down significantly, he was able to keep it in his hand and he simply nursed his soda while he watched. The Detective sat in his spot fondling the tooth as time went by, with minutes eventually turning to hours. So, engrossed he was is observing the patrons of the bar – those that were already there as well as the newcomers – that he didn’t even notice when the strange barman was right beside him until he was actually spoken to.
“Pardon the intrusion Detective, but I initially came over here to see if you would like a refill… but, you’ve barely even touched your drink.”
Langa, whose head had snapped around about as rapidly as humanly possible without twisting off, looked at the barman with equal parts shock and aggression – as if he was about to reach for his service weapon. He quickly recovered his composure though and shook his head slightly.
“…no, I’m good.”
“If I may ask, why are you even drinking something you clearly don’t like?”
“I made a promise not to drink tonight – wait a minute! Did you call me Detective?”
“Indeed, I did, Sir.”
“I didn’t say anything about being a detective.”
“You didn’t have to, my good man. Only a Detective in this city could look as sharp and as blunt as you do. You look about as healthy as my customers, yet are dressed in a perfectly pressed suit, a wonderfully slim fitting coat and your shoes really are very, very nice. This city of ours has quite the knack for beating down our hard-working members of law enforcement and making them look like the walking dead, looooong before their time.”
“If that’s the case, you could be a detective yourself.” Langa retorted. “Now keep it down, and keep the whole Detective speak to a minimum, would you? I’m actually here looking for someone… or something.”
“Oh my, something? You mean that thing you said had torn those four victims to shreds and fed on their internals?”
“Yeah, that very th— okay, what the fuck?”
“Calm yourself, my good man!” The barman said with a chuckle. “I saw you on the television this morning – that’s how I know what you are, Detective Langa. I’m still tryna figure out exactly who you are though.”
“Yeah? And just who are you, exactly?”
“Oh, names are ultimately useless, Sir… but in these parts, I go by Sam – pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Sam removed his top hat and bowed before Langa rather elaborately, before flipping the hat back on.
“You look like a regal crackhead.” Langa snorted before looking back towards the patrons he was keeping an eye on.
“So, what exactly are we fondling in that hand, good Sir?” Sam asked as he reached down towards Langa’s right hand.
He suddenly got an overwhelming sense of danger that seemed to come directly from said hand, causing him to pull his own hand away and look at Langa, who just looked at him suspiciously.
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.”
“Does it belong to whomever or whatever it is you think is going to enter my bar?”
“And what if it was?”
“Well, if you were to show it to me, I’d be able to tell you who it belongs to.”
“Yeah right.”
“No, really. These people are my customers, and I never forget a face. I could tell you right away who it was just from seeing the evidence you have in your hand.”
“I’ll buy you some crack if you’re able to tell me who I’m pursuing based on this.” Langa scoffed as he opened his hand and revealed the tooth.
“Ah, that belongs to a customer who just recently started coming to the bar. He’s about 6’1, stockily built, has short, dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and has scruffy facial hair – sort of like you. He’s worn pretty much the exact same clothes every time he’s come in here, yet the last time he was here, there were a few blood stains on his shirt. He hasn’t been in for a few days, but the intervals between his visits are never long. I unfortunately do not know his name, but if you stick around for long enough, I’m sure you’ll be able to ask him what it is yourself.”
Langa just looked at the Sam with his mouth slightly agape, and his eyes wide with disbelief. He was finding it difficult to believe the strange man, yet at the same time, he found it difficult to think that he was lying.
“Let me go back to my bar, Detective. Keep an eye on me, and I’ll let you know if and when our toothless friend walks through the door.”
Sam then tipped his hat and winked, before virtually skipping off to the counter. As Langa watched him walk off, he swore he saw a purple energy or force dancing off of the barman’s body, but it was only for an instant. The waiting then continued for a while longer, with the Detective paying quite a bit more attention to the barman, in spite of his brain telling him not to believe a word the ‘regal crackhead’ had said. However just over an hour after their little conversation, the door opened and in walked a man who was huddled up in a dirty looking trench coat. It was dark and hazy inside, so it was difficult to make out finer details from the corner in which Langa was seated, however just going by the physical description Sam had given, he was pretty sure that the guy who had just walked in was the one. That suspicion was then confirmed by Sam, who was simultaneously speaking to this while simultaneously looking incredibly smug. Langa was certain this was the signal, but then in the moments when the man was looking through his pockets for money, Sam then turned his entire body towards the Detective, took off his top hat and started waving it back and forth in the air as a means of getting Langa’s attention. That was unequivocally the signal, and Langa simply rolled his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly. That said, the suspect that he had been chasing for just over two weeks was finally in front of him, and despite not having genuine, concrete evidence to go on in the eyes of the law, he had plenty to go on in his eyes.
He continued to monitor the situation as the suspect appeared to have ordered every meal on the menu. In fact, there was a definite sense of horror from the few that were sober and cared enough to pay attention to him as he not only ordered everything, but he also ate it all in one sitting. It was a truly monstrous sight, with bits of food, sauce and whatever else was on those plates flying all over the place. The fact that the food was also demolished so quickly also played on Langa’s mind, but it also served to move things along as he got up and abruptly exited the establishment after leaving money on the table. The Detective quickly stood up and left money for his own unfinished and now room temperature beverage on the table, before following the suspect. He looked over at the table and saw a bunch of unidentifiable food residue on the numerous plates that remained on the table. Next thing he knew, Langa found Sam standing next to him still looking smug.
“How fortunate for you, he really did swing by tonight to eat some of the delicious cuisine we have on offer.”
“…what the fuck is all of this shit?” Langa said as he eyed the table before stepping away from it.
“Delicious cuisine.” Sam defiantly answered.
“…if this guy really turns out to be who I’m chasing, you can expect your crack in the mail.”
“Thank you, have a wonderful day!” Sam said in response as Langa slipped out of the bar and began following the man in the coat.
He made sure to keep his distance and make as little noise as possible. The intention was to shadow the suspect and follow him home, so as to see if he would find more concrete evidence in his home. As the pair walked through the labyrinthian alleyways of the district they were in, the man in the coat began to walk faster and faster, with his speed becoming damn near inhuman the further they went. Soon enough, the Detective had broken out into a light jog, and after turning down yet another alley, he found that the man in the coat was no where to be found. There was a moment of frustration as Langa sprinted down to the end of the alley and looked around, as if hoping to see the tail of the trench coat as he slipped down the street, alas he was out of luck. He then closed his eyes as he squeezed the tooth in his hand once more before opening his eyes and looking at his fist. Unlike the last time where he actually saw that black substance, this time the only thing he felt was danger. Everything went red for no more than ten seconds, and within that time, Langa’s senses were heightened to an almost painful degree, as everything got simultaneously loud yet dead silent at the same time. He could hear nothing outside of the area affected by this strange technique, yet within said area, he could feel and hear everything. From his own breathing, to slight whistle coming from the multitude of empty cans as a light breeze blew over them. The rancid smell of urine, vomit and general refuse was strong, and if it wasn’t for the sense of impending doom, Langa would have probably keeled over retched himself. The danger he was sensing seemed to be coming from above, and just as he became cognisant of it, his body screamed at him to move as quickly as possible – which he did. The moment he dashed out of the way, something large and heavy landed directly in the space that had been vacated. The fluttering trench coat made it obvious to the Detective just who it was that had tried to squash him, but what he couldn’t figure out was why the man in the coat sounded so heavy. He had no time to contemplate it further however, as not only did his vision go back to normal, but the man not only stood to his full height, but let out a long and almost wet sounding breath.
“…why… are you here?” The man asked in an almost pained whine.
“My name is Detective Langa, and I’m here because I have some questions for you.” Langa answered as normally as possible.
“No, I mean why are you here? Why did you follow?!”
“…like I just said, I have—”
“I’ve been trying so hard… so hard.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? Look, my ques—”
“I’m so hungry…”
“What?! I just saw you eat like nine plates of that dodgy ass food, how can you – wait, why am I getting caught up in this shit. Listen, you can either answer my questions now, or I can drag you down to the station – it’s up to you.”
The man in the coat, who had yet to even look up, started to slowly and shakily stumble towards the Detective, all the while mumbling something under his breath. Langa, who was still feeling somewhat uneasy, was instinctively keeping his hand close to his pistol. The air in the alley seemed to become thicker, and the closer the man got to the Detective, the more it felt like breathing was an act of torture rather than an act of life. It eventually felt like Langa was trying to inhale cream cheese, yet surprisingly enough, this kind of situation was one he was all too familiar with, which was why he had his hand ready in case the situation escalated. In spite of being approached by someone who looked like he was a raging alcoholic, instinct and experience were telling him to be on guard – which was just as well because he suddenly went mumbling to shouting and screaming.
“…hungry… hungry… hungry… hungry… HUNGRY!!!”
As he absolutely shrieked the last ‘hungry’, the man in the coat looked up and revealed his face which appeared to be in worse shape than Langa had been expecting. Blood was starting to flow liberally from growing and bursting boils, whilst also streaming from his eyes. After another shriek, he suddenly lunged at Detective Langa, doing so with such speed and force it took all Langa had jump out of the way. The alley was small, so just by evading, his back slammed against the wall. The man in the coat simply bellowed out a few more renditions of the word hungry, with each one sounding progressively wetter and more gross than the last one. Before the Detective could move away, the shrieking, gurgling man was on him. Yet as he reached Langa, the Detective instinctively threw a rapid two punch combo to the gut and then to the jaw that landed flush. Yet the bleeding face didn’t even react or turn, and simply let out another shriek before leaning in, then instantly opening its mouth way more than any human mouth had any right to and trying to bite Langa. The Detective managed to hold the bleeding face back by jamming his forearm right into the man’s neck, before delivering a blistering flurry of right hooks, with three of them landing clean. They were however incredibly ineffective, as the lapels of his coat were then grabbed by the filthy hands which then preceded to absolutely man handle Langa, lifting him up and slamming him onto the hard asphalt below, before raising him up and slamming him back into the wall he was just pulled off of, before the absolutely tossing him into the opposite wall. The impact was so fierce that Langa thought his spine had shattered.
He was close to passing out but saw the… thing shaping as if it was about to try and eat him again, so he literally willed away the supposedly inevitable unconsciousness that looming, shook his head rapidly and as his feet touched the ground, he absolutely launched himself towards the one who was trying to eat him. He planted his left foot, turned his hips and unleashed a positively ferocious left-handed Smash that hit the target clean, yet had absolutely no effect yet again. Instead, he was grabbed by the neck, lifted once more and driven into the wall so hard, the Detective was sure it was going to break. Instead, it stayed strong and the creature let out yet another shriek, but from so close, Langa was actually able to make out far more detail on its face. The boils that had been popping all over its face continued to grow and burst, while the corners of its mouth had torn and made its mouth even bigger. Said mouth was now filled with hundreds of tiny, razor sharp teeth in multiple rows. The shrieks were becoming gross roars and Langa was being hit with hot, rancid breath and disgusting, black saliva. After letting out yet another roar, the creature opened its mouth as wide as it possibly could and a plethora of tendrils snaked and slithered their way out of the gaping maw. Hot, steamy breath smacked Langa across the face and as he watched all of those things squirm their way out of the ever-widening chasm of a mouth towards him, he suddenly switched tactics as speaking English was working, and neither was fighting. Despite being choked by an ever-growing hand, Langa glared directly into the eyes of the creature, grabbed and held a part of the creature’s collar with his left fist, pumped his chest out and let out a series of almighty roars. One would be forgiven for mistaking Langa for a wrestler and expecting pyrotechnics to explode behind him. What actually happened was far more of a surprise, given the current situation because after letting out his third and final roar before essentially running out of breath, the creature looked at Langa, eyes bulging and filled with genuine intimidation. Those eyes saw something that had absolutely crushed its spirit and its desire to eat the Detective, who maintained eye contact and scowled the entire time. The creature actually began to cower and loosen it’s grip on his neck on account of whatever it was that it was seeing, however instead of just letting the Detective go, it pulled him away from the wall and practically choked slammed him into the concrete below before shrieking and running away – leaping from wall to wall and disappearing into the night.
Langa just lay on his back and stared at the sky, completely silent and motionless. Surprisingly, he wasn’t shaken up by the entire experience, but he was still lamenting the fact that he was so easily dispatched of, and was dangerously close to being eaten. His eyes narrowed as he groggily whispered.
“…what he fuck are you all looking at?”
Langa said this while looking at the many, many creatures that looked as though they came from the same monster design book as the one that had just kicked his ass. There were strange spider like creatures climbing all over the walls and rooftops, flying creatures with human hands for wings, a massive tentacle monster that was many times the size of the largest cruise ship or aircraft carrier, small creatures, large creatures, big ones, small ones, and they all seemed to be looking directly at him, as if wondering how he had just lost like that. Moments after asking the question, the Detective lost consciousness right there in on the floor.