Top-secret experiment

Chapter One: The Disappearing Crime Scene “Shasha... Now a special broadcast. Shasha... This evening, a dismembered body was found near People's Park in the city. The police have confirmed that this is likely the fourth case in the 522 serial dismemberment murders. A joint task force has been set up to investigate the case. Citizens are advised to stay safe and avoid going out alone at night. Shasha...” In the dead of night, the room was pitch black, save for the creaking sound of an old television still murmuring in the background. The rusty lock made a screeching sound, followed by the creak of a worn-out security door slowly opening. A man wearing glasses, reeking of alcohol, stumbled into the room. "Eh... Did I forget to... forget to turn off the TV when I left?" The man mumbled as he heard the broadcast on the TV, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. With a click, he pressed the switch, but the light did not turn on. The room remained dark. "Ah... Looks like the lights are broken again. This urban village is such a hassle..." The man shook his head, stumbling toward the bedroom. After taking a couple of steps, he suddenly slipped and almost fell to the floor, but fortunately, in a panic, he managed to grab the bedroom door handle and avoid crashing to the ground. "Ugh, where’s all this water coming from? Could it be the kitchen pipes leaking again?" The man, still groggy from alcohol, looked down and saw a dark patch of water on the floor. He cursed under his breath and made his way toward the kitchen. The kitchen had a window, and with the faint light of the moon coming through, he glanced around but didn’t notice any signs of water leakage. “Strange, I thought the kitchen was leaking...” He turned back in confusion and then noticed a line of dark footprints on the floor. His alcohol-dulled brain took a moment to process, and it slowly occurred to him: those footprints were his. He chuckled to himself, squatted down, and wiped his finger across the liquid on the footprint, bringing it close to his face to examine. The liquid was red, and it smelled strongly of iron. Wait... Blood! The man froze in shock, his drunken stupor dissipating. He rubbed his eyes, then brought his finger closer to his face again. Yes, it was definitely blood. He suddenly remembered the "water stains" outside the bedroom door—what if that was all blood? Chilled to the bone, he quickly stepped back to the bedroom door. Blood was seeping out from the gap beneath the door. Despite his fear, curiosity overtook him, and he couldn't resist wanting to see what lay behind that door. Should he go in or run away? Encouraged by the alcohol, his rationality was quickly overwhelmed by his curiosity. He hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a kitchen knife, and returned to the bedroom door. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door. The door swung open with a loud crash. The bedroom was a mess. In the moonlight, the white lime walls were smeared with large streaks of blood, and the floor was almost completely submerged in dark red. Among the blood, dismembered limbs and pieces of flesh were scattered across the room, and a bloodied human head was sitting upright on the bed. Its wide, lifeless eyes stared directly at the door, locking onto the man with an eerie intensity. The man staggered backward in terror, throwing up in disgust. His mind flashed back to the news report he had heard earlier: “This evening, a dismembered body was found near People’s Park, and the police have confirmed that this is likely the fourth case in the 522 serial dismemberment murders...” His drunkenness was now completely gone, and his mind was fully alert. This was a dismemberment scene. Why was this happening in my home? But wait... the blood hasn’t even coagulated. The victim must have died recently... and the door opened by itself... that means... The killer is still here! The man’s body shook uncontrollably as cold sweat poured down his back. Just then, he heard strange footsteps from the hallway outside, the rhythm of the steps punctuated by an odd sound: "Click-clack, click-clack..." The sound was heavy, uneven, and rhythmic, as though a person with a limp wearing thick-soled boots was walking on a wooden floor. The footsteps were growing closer, slowly descending the stairs from the second floor and approaching his room. “He found me! What do I do? Run... yes, run!” The man snapped back to reality, grateful that the landlord hadn’t installed security bars on the window. He quickly shoved open the bedroom window and jumped out. Outside, a dark alley extended through the urban village, winding in all directions. The unfamiliarity of the narrow paths often caused people to get lost, and although the man had complained about them before, he now found himself grateful for these labyrinthine streets. He wanted to scream for help, but feared alerting the killer. Instead, he ran as fast as he could down the alley. He had no idea how long he had been running, but his chest burned with pain, and his legs felt like lead. The strange footsteps never stopped, echoing in his mind like a giant wave pushing him forward. Just when he thought he couldn’t go any further, the alley ended, and an open area appeared. A lone streetlight illuminated the scene like a beacon of hope. To his immense relief, a police car was parked beneath the light, its red and blue lights flashing, offering a sense of security. “Police! Help!” The man cried out, rushing toward the car. “Officers, no... comrades, someone’s after me! No, no, no... I saw a murder, I saw the dismemberment!” He stammered, his voice frantic. But inside the car, it was eerily silent. He peered into the darkened vehicle, but it seemed empty. "s**t!" A cold wave of panic washed over him as he realized his delay might cost him his life. Just then, a large hand landed heavily on his shoulder. “Ah!” The man turned around, startled, only to find two police officers standing behind him. Their hats were pulled low, obscuring their faces, and they stood in the dim light, their presence unsettling. The man, too scared to think straight, rushed to explain everything he had seen. The officers, upon hearing that it might be connected to the 522 dismemberment case, immediately instructed him to lead them to the scene. Though the man was hesitant, he felt safer with the police, so he reluctantly agreed. Strangely, the officers said nothing as they followed him. They didn’t ask any questions or inquire about details of the crime. They simply walked silently behind him. The man felt uneasy but didn't notice anything odd as they walked for over ten minutes, eventually returning to his rented apartment. He opened the battered security door and, on instinct, pressed the light switch. With another click, the light came on. But this time, instead of the expected darkness, the room lit up brightly. The man froze in place. The two officers, however, didn’t seem surprised and walked straight into the room. Suddenly, he realized that, despite everything, he had never really seen their faces. What was going on? He quickly followed them into the bedroom. “This way! Officers, the blood, the body... everything’s in here!” He rushed ahead, opened the bedroom door, and froze again. The room was a mess, but it was filled with dirty clothes and socks. The blood, the dismembered limbs, and the head were all gone. “Disappeared? How could this be? I saw it, I swear I saw it!” The officers didn’t acknowledge the man’s shock, and instead, they searched the room methodically but found nothing. After exchanging a glance, they shook their heads, turned, and walked out without a word. The man stood there, stunned, realizing something was terribly wrong. The officers had been following him the whole time, but he hadn’t seen their faces, and now they acted as though nothing had happened. Why hadn’t they asked any questions about the case? Why had they not taken him to the station for a statement? Something was off. Those officers were not what they seemed. Just then, the lights in the room suddenly went out. The room fell into darkness again. The man’s heart raced. He hadn’t even fully processed what had happened when the same "click-clack" footsteps echoed through the room again. It’s the killer! He’s still here!