Arthur and his partner for the evening, Judith, both sat outside of the cult’s hideout in Judith’s parked SUV. In the late afternoon sunlight, with the front door locked and the window blinds lowered, most people would walk past it with little mind as it sat unremarkably between two other identical buildings.


"Are you going to tell me why we're here, or... am I supposed to guess?" He asked her.


The two worked by commission for the Paranormal Investigators of New Haven (or Pin, as a shorthand), and jobs like this often took the form of a hunch and a surprising amount of unlawful entry. Of course, there was never a gradient with paranormal instances; they were either absolute nonsense based on pure speculation or existentially terrifying threats that threatened the foundation of mankind with no in-between. The stress of such a job was apparent in Arthur's graying strands that were, thankfully, not too visible in his auburn hair.


Judith groaned. "Don't start guessing. I hate it when you guess things. It's creepy."


Arthur shrank a bit. He always had a hidden intuition when it came to knowing the truths to a nearly supernatural degree. He remembered with embarrassment when he'd exposed Judith's wife's affair just by asking questions he reasonably shouldn't have been asking to begin with. All he’d done was point out how Vivian came home four hours later than was usual for her book club, despite Judith never mentioning any book club to him before. An absurd intuition for knowing the truth of others and his own natural curiosity made for a poor combination. What Judith was about to tell him was likely not too hard to explain, but it was still the principle to not drag it out of her. She’d never quite opened up to him as much as she used to after that.


Judith didn't answer right away. She brought down her window and blew out puffs of her cigarette smoke. Arthur assumed she did it as a courtesy to him specifically, considering the smell of tobacco and ash from the car. She offered up the carton to Arthur. He took a sip from his reusable water bottle and held a hand up to decline, and she pocketed it along with her lighter.


Judith pulled out her wallet, and Arthur caught a glimpse of a photo of her ex. He winced, almost wanting to ask about how the divorce proceedings were going, but held back. He had no doubts that a conversation along those lines would go over horribly.


"Some kind of cult or something called the Red Talons," she said after exhaling. "According to Socket, they're a bunch of nutcases but managed to get their hands on something they shouldn't have."


"What is it? And... why do they want it?" He felt the answer just out of reach but held back.


"No clue what they're holding onto so tightly. It's been passed between around four different gangs so far," Judith reclined as she finished her cigarette and flicked it out the window. Arthur flinched at the littering but held his tongue as she continued. She held up her fingers as she counted. "First, the Infidels found it in an old basement, then during a turf war, the Guidance Council found it and auctioned it off, which is how Socket found out about it to begin with, then they sold it to the Broncos, who lost it to the Talons when they were all killed in that battle last week, and the Talons have had it ever since for the past four months. Any intel about it just details that whatever the fuck is so important, it's kept in a coffin-sized metal container with a bunch of locks and a bunch of guys guarding it."


"Coffin-shaped? That's... ominous."


"Well, whatever they've got, it either-"


"Holds some kind of power that makes it valuable, or - or it's got some level of psychic influence over the people who want it,"Arthur interrupted. "Maybe it's got... hypnotic qualities or something? It's brainwashing everyone who gets their hands on it, like the One Ring or something."


He looked over to gauge her response, but Judith only gave Arthur an icy glare, and what he had just done dawned on him. "Oh. Sorry."


She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Doesn't matter, you're right. I've got no clue what's in that box, but just in case, let's avoid getting too handsy with it if that can be avoided. I'd rather not find out the hard way and get brainwashed. Again."


And so the plan was set into motion. The pair managed to make their way to the back of the building. Arthur made a token attempt to pick the lock before, ultimately, Judith simply kicked it in two with her steel-toed boots. From there was a hallway, and Arthur did his best to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible as they walked along the linoleum floor. The sickly fluorescent lights illuminated the entrance into another room, which was the only light source in the otherwise dark, dingy area. The duo stood just beyond the edge of the door frame as they cautiously peeked inside.


Arthur watched Judith's fingers dance impatiently along the doorframe, and he quietly held a finger or his lips, hoping to instill some form of caution. He received a middle finger in return. He could only hope she knew what she was doing: she'd been at this job far longer than him, after all, and hadn’t died yet.


The wider room had two tables alongside the opposite walls, each stacked with books and papers and with candles lit on the ends, offering some warmth in the otherwise cold and decrepit-looking office space that likely hadn't been used in years.


In the center of the room was the most fascinating part; three rows of chairs faced the front of the room, and in each one sat a figure adorned in a red robe.


At the front of the room stood the only figure in white, his hood lowered so his face was visible. He was an older man, his cheeks rosy and his eyes twinkling as he spoke to the crowd. Arthur couldn't help but recall memories of his dear grandfather and absently noted that he could understand why someone would join a cult if their leader seemed so pleasant. However, underneath the gentle paternal exterior, Arthur could see the truth of such a man, and the truth told him that he was not one to be trifled with.


Next to the man was the infamous metal, coffin-sized capsule with a broken lock. Arthur gulped.

The Old Man spoke. "Brothers and sisters! Tell me, what is a god?"


The crowd did not answer. He continued, "When you think of a God, you may think of mainstream religion. Some Gods are benevolent, some are cruel, and no matter who you ask, if they believe in a God, they believe that their God must be feared, respected, and obeyed only because of its power over us—over our reality."


Some heads nodded. His smile dropped. "But Gods are not people. They are tools. Tools used by people to control other people."


He held out his hands defensively. "Now, don't get me wrong, I don't see that as a bad thing. Not at all. Which is why we've decided to take our destiny into our own hands, isn't that right?"


This time, the crowd spoke, a chorus of agreement. The Old Man's smile returned. "We are meant for much more than this, aren't we?!"


The cheering grew louder. Judith took the chance to whisper to Arthur. "That old bastard is either scamming them out of money or wants to make their daughters into some child brides."


"Shh! Shut up!"


"Or both," she said, quieter this time, "Probably both."


The Old Man opened his arms wider. "Don't we as humans have the right to forge our own destiny?! Don't we as humans have the right to forge our own God?! Only through me can we step out of the shadow of the universe and rise to our true potential! This is our time! This is our apotheosis!"


The crowd continued to cheer. Arthur only got a passing glimpse at Judith before she stood up straight. She gritted her teeth. "Fuck it."


She raised her arm, displaying her baton, and whistled loudly. Much to Arthur's horror, the room immediately swiveled their heads in their direction. "We're from the Pin, nobody moves! We're here to confiscate any illegal and potentially paranormal contraband."


The Old Man blinked as the crowd looked up to him, waiting for his response. He smiled. "Hello, are you police officers?"


Arthur stuttered. "No! No, we are not."


Judith glared at him and whispered. "Shut up. They won't be intimidated if they know that."


Arthur shot back a glare of his own but didn't take it back. "We're only here to ensure no one is getting hurt or using any items that fall under our jurisdiction. Any, um, anomalies of nature are meant to be taken in by Pin to protect the public. If you don’t mind, we’d like to do an impromptu search."


He smiled, his cheeks rosy. "Well, feel free to search the premises. We have nothing to hide."


Arthur pointed at the capsule by the Man's side. "What's in there?"


He received a confident grin in return. "Why not open it and find out for yourself?" "Arthur," Judith spat, "Don't you dare!"

Arthur hesitated, but stepped forward despite the warning and the parade of red flags telling him this was a bad idea. He walked past the rows of chairs, and though the robed figures looked up at him, he paid them no mind, transfixed on the capsule. His curiosity gnawed at him hard enough to leave a hole in his stomach.


Judith stepped forward but still kept her distance from him. "Just leave it be! We don't need to look at it!"


Arthur froze in his path down the center row of chairs. "It's empty. The capsule is empty."


The room was disrupted by the murmuring crowd, who echoed sounds of surprise and confusion. The Old Man's expression changed from relaxed confidence to shock. "How did you know?"


"Call it intuition," Arthur said.


The hairs on the back of Arthur's neck stood up, and he swiveled around to see one of the followers in red standing behind him with a sledgehammer seconds from swinging. "Oh, shit!"


Before he could strike, Judith ran forward and barreled into their assailant, tackling him to the ground. In a few seconds, the once-still room burst into pure chaos as robed figures lunged at the pair of investigators. Arthur lost sight of Judith in the crowd as several members circled him, and he stopped thinking about her when he received a swift punch to the jaw.


"Don't let them leave!" He heard the Old Man say amidst all the noise.


Arthur gritted his teeth, reached into his coat, and pulled out his baton but was quickly overwhelmed by several arms and legs. He shielded his face with his arms as he fell to the ground, trying and failing to fend off kicks to the chest and back.


Despite himself, the truth revealed itself to him. He could sense several things at once: he peeked through his fingers to see several cult members leaving through the doors and a few even yelling at the Old Man. A crisis of faith, Arthur realized. The ones currently beating his ass were likely older and more devoted. The less-so ones were all more than a little disappointed with the grand reveal. One even opened the capsule to reveal nothing but air.


"The capsule was empty, and so were your promises!" One yelled as the Man tried to placate him.


"I can't believe I missed my daughter's graduation for this!"


"I quit!"

And then they left, and the population of the room shrank by about half-


Suddenly, in a rush of movement, Judith barreled through the crowd, knocking over several and freeing Arthur as she shoved away several of his assailants. Judith was a tall, stocky woman, and it could be argued that her refusal to keel to anyone was only rivaled by Arthur's own intuition for the truth, a supernatural trait all on its own. It took seconds for her to shove her way through the crowd, pick up a fallen knife that'd clattered to the ground, rush at the Old Man who'd been too slow to run, and hold it to his neck. "Hey!"


The room fell quiet as everyone watched her. Arthur staggered to his feet, holding the black eye he'd received from the onslaught.


Judith tightened her grip on the Old Man's shoulder. "Everyone put your hands behind your back and stay where you are, or Manson here gets it."


"Funny," the Old Man chuckled, despite the situation, "I thought you two weren't cops."


Judith groaned. "Shut up. This would be so much easier if I was allowed to have a gun."


Arthur could not help being silently grateful that she wasn't. He hadn't lied earlier: Paranormal Investigators were not police and did not need warrants, but they were also liable to the same falls that civilians were and more likely to die as a result. This meant fewer rules to follow, but it also meant no real recourse for protection. If they could not prove that there was any paranormal activity here, they could easily get sued, and probably far worse if they managed to get someone killed.


"Brothers, Sisters," the Old Man said to the crowd, "Retreat to your homes. Martyr me. And if I turn up dead, be sure to avenge me."


Judith squinted. "What?"


But it didn't matter what she thought, as the remaining followers immediately did as they were told; they bowed to their leader, pulled away from the center of the room, dropped any weapons, and left through the door. Soon enough, it was only the three of them.


"That was stupid of you," Judith said, still holding the blade to his neck. "You had an advantage of numbers, and you just... sent them all away? What kind of game are you playing? Are you dumb, or are you trying something?"


"He's not dumb," Arthur clarified. "Trust me."


"My brothers and sisters, the ones who are the most faithful, will always return to my side when I have need of them,"the Man said, "As for me staying here with you two, I'll just say that this is only another test of my divine right to the god I've built."


Judith yanked his arm and pulled out some rope from her bag. Arthur didn't even want to question why she had brought it in the first place.


With the Old Man tied up to one of the chairs in the front room, Judith walked up to Arthur. "Why the hell did you walk up to the capsule anyway? What were you thinking?"


"Considering that you screamed at everyone and blew our cover," He spat back, "it's clear that I'm not the only one of us that's made an insanely stupid decision today."


Judith grew quiet. "Hm."


Arthur knew he wasn't getting any sort of apology, but he didn't especially want one either. He walked up to the Old Man. "Look, sir, we know that that capsule has been passed around between a bajillion people by this point. I mean, was that capsule empty when you got it? What was in there that you wanted so badly? Tell me or I'll pull the truth out of you anyway."


The Old Man smiled gently. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."


Arthur closed his eyes. And he searched for the truth - the Old Man’s truth - and gripped it tightly as he pulled it forward in his mind. He opened his eyes. "The capsule is supposed to help you 'build a God', yes? It wasn’t always empty, there was something inside it this morning, something important. But you moved it to another space. You wanted me to take a closer look at the capsule to give one of your followers enough time to strike me, but you didn't anticipate me knowing it was empty before I actually opened it, did you?"


He was silent. Arthur continued. "And this .... thing that was in the capsule, it's still in the building, isn’t it? You have it hidden somewhere around here."


"Way ahead of you. I'm gonna go look for it," Judith said, walking down a hall to the room's left.


Arthur didn't even look at her as she walked away, his gaze intently set on the Man in front of him. "As for what the entity in the capsule actually is, you at least view it as a God. But what is it really?"


"What's the matter?" The Man asked, cocking his head. "Can't you figure that out on your own? It’s clearly not a problem for you."


"I can only pull people's own thoughts from their minds, not some omniscient third-person perspective of the state of the world," Arthur explained incredulously, "You view whatever this thing is as some kind of a God, so that's the only interpretation of it I have to go off of as of right now."


The Old Man gave a smile that Arthur wanted to wipe off his face. "It's the correct one."


Arthur sighed. "Can you at least describe what it looks like?"


The Old Man paused contemplatively. "Beautiful hair, with an aged pleasantry. Sharp, cutting eyes. And a lovely elegant face."


"Okay," Arthur clapped his hands. They were getting somewhere. "So, at the very least, it looks like a person?"


"It looks like a man, I suppose."


It was Arthur's turn to pause. His eyes widened as he tilted his head. "Are you telling me that you just have a random guy locked up in this building?"


"Our God is much more than you comprehend. Calling it a "guy" is, frankly, rather diminishing of its importance."


"Holy shit, you people actually kidnapped someone," Arthur ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, which room is it?"


The Old Man's smile turned into a smirk. Arthur sighed. "Well, I'll just find him myself."


Arthur stood at the center of the room, closed his eyes and exhaled. If he could just try and find the presence of another person in the building, it could give him some kind of hint-


There.


He turned his head to the room's right wall, opposite of the hallway Judith disappeared into, and saw the entrance to another hall. He sighed and began to walk past the chairs towards it.


—————-


The texture of the walls and floors changed from the room to the hallway; rough brick and linoleum tiles gave way to drab, imposing concrete on all sides. The walk down the hall was short, first going straight and then a ninety-degree turn to the left, until Arthur was met with a locked metal door, like that of a freezer.


The bolt was easy enough to slide out of place, and Arthur cautiously pulled the heavy door open. He sighed. He probably should get Judith before going to confront... whoever was in this room, but he felt caution pull him away from that decision. If there truly was someone who’d been kidnapped trapped in here, Judith was not the most comforting presence in such a scenario.


After all, in the usual thrum of what he could comprehend of others' truths and perspectives, he could only sense a distinct feeling of loss from the other side of the door.... And underneath that, an incomprehensible feeling of coldness. The feelings were simplified and sharp, like those of a small child or an animal. Arthur had no clue what to expect, but he couldn't help the bubble of pity growing in his chest.


At the far end of the dimly lit, windowless room were the bars of a prison cell, and behind the bars sat a stranger. His thick, long hair fell in waves past his shoulders, a sea of brown streaked with gray as he hunched in his cell, obscuring his face from view. He was barefoot, and wore a simple white shirt and gray sweatpants, which looked baggy on his gaunt frame. Even though, if he were standing, he'd likely be taller than Arthur himself, he looked so very small.


The most concerning thing, however, was the thick, black iron chains connected to his neck, wrists, and ankles, keeping him tied to the wall. They were long enough to allow him to sit relatively comfortably, perhaps stand if he wanted to, though their weight was clearly what kept the Man so low to the ground.


"Hello?" Arthur said.


The Stranger looked up at him. His sienna-toned skin, stubble, and prominent nose gave him a refined and elegant look despite his squalor, although his youthful face betrayed that he was likely not much older than Arthur himself. His brown, almond-shaped eyes sat under bushy eyebrows and above dark bags, the brightest and gentlest part of his face. They twinkled, and Arthur found it hard to pull his own gaze away from theirs. The Old Man wasn’t wrong when he said this guy had a sort of elegant beauty.


"Hello," the Stranger's voice was soft but deep, his dulcet tone remarkably calm for someone chained up in a dark room. "Can you please help me out of these chains?"


Arthur regained his composure. "Uh, I'm so sorry. Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?"


The Man shook his head. Arthur walked forward and examined the bars of the cage. "I'm Arthur Descott. What's your name?"


The Stranger hesitated. "John."


"Last name?"


John said nothing, his brows furrowed in thought.


"I need your last name so we can try and get the police involved," Arthur pressed. "We just want to help you, I promise."

John sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't remember my last name. I wish I did, but it's... slipped my mind."


Arthur hesitated, but then pressed on. There was time to unpack that later. "How'd you end up involved with all these gangs? And this cult?"


John lowered his head again, breaking the eye contact Arthur hadn't realized they'd held since he'd walked into the room. "I-I...”


He trailed off. Arthur sighed. "It's alright. We can continue with the questioning once we get you out of here, alright?"


John looked up again and offered a small smile. "Thank you.You’re being very kind to me."


Arthur shook the lock on the cage and pulled out his lock-picking kit from his pocket. Might as well chat to pass the time. "So, how old are you?"


"I believe I'm about 29."


Ah, so they were around the same age. Arthur could bet that the gray in his long hair was possibly from stress. "Where are you from? What town?"


"I... don't remember. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more about myself, but.... so much of it has gotten away from me. I just want to get out of this place."


"It's alright," Arthur comforted, "Stress tends to mess with our memory. Maybe you can jog it if we get you to a better place."


"Arthur?" Both turned to the door to see Judith with a lit cigarette in her mouth. "Who's that? Is that the guy they kidnapped?"


"This is the supposed 'God,'" - he said, using his fingers as quotation marks - "That the Talon leader was rambling on about."


"Who is she?" John asked, cocking his head.


"Judith Monroe, my partner. She's here to help." He turned back to her. "Help me with the cage, will you?"


Judith did not. She froze in place, a deer in headlights, staring at John. "Arthur. Step away from him."


"What? Why?"


"I have a bad feeling about this," She said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she pointed at John. "This guy is what four separate criminal organizations have been playing Hot Potato with for the past year. They've been transporting him around in some metal death trap, and now he's just... here? It's weird. I don't trust it."


"You don't trust anything," Arthur warned. "Look, he's just a victim in this. Let's interrogate him when he's not in chains."


"Think about what this looks like for a second," She stepped into the center of the room, looking down at a kneeling Arthur and gesturing to John, who now sat up to his full height.


She released a puff of smoke. "The Talons are one hundred percent convinced that this guy is some sort of God, and then when we find him, he’s wearing an iron chain on his neck and every limb, is trapped behind a locked jail cell in a hidden windowless room with cement walls and floors that are at least three feet thick with the only exit being a metal bolted door. And none of that seems odd to you? That they've gone through so much effort just to keep one guy contained? That they had to bring him here in a fucking coffin?"


"I don't know, maybe they're just insane and paranoid," Arthur argued. "Look at him. If he was actually some sort of a god or some such nonsense, I doubt a few chains or a room would stop him. This is clearly a misunderstanding."


"Maybe so," Judith posited, putting her cigarette out onto one of the concrete walls. "I'm not saying he's a god. I don't think he is. But just because the cult may be wrong about what he is doesn't mean he's not powerful, and it doesn't mean he's not dangerous. He could just be a regular scumbag."


"He's been perfectly civil so far," Arthur said weakly as he stood up.


Judith tilted her head to look down at John but still spoke to her partner. "Your friend hasn't said much since I walked into the room. Why is that?"


Arthur turned to look down back at John. Even though he looked the same as he had for the past few minutes, his demeanor as Judith got closer to him visibly shifted so minutely that Arthur was almost convinced he'd imagined it. His posture had stiffened, allowing him a greater spread of confidence. His eyes, which were at first hopeful and shiny, hardened as his gaze grew sharp and judgemental. His mouth was no longer a pitiable smile but a straight, terse line, as if he was annoyed to be there. Arthur had at first mistaken him for smaller than he was, but now he couldn't help but notice how much space he took up in the room even from behind bars.


"So," Judith continued, "Why don't you tell us why you're here? Why you’re really here?"


John chuckled, the sound still as soft and deep as before, but it was the bold chuckle of someone who held all the cards. When he spoke, it was smooth and lilted, cold but with an almost imperceptible joviality that felt out of place in their current situation. "You don't already know?"


"Why did the Talons want you so badly? Did you offer them something, or did they take you against your will?"


John sighed and even had the gall to look at his nails as if they held more interest than anything the investigators had to say. "Those are two different questions. Which do you want me to answer first?"


Judith shrugged. "The first one."


John also shrugged. "They want me for their own purposes, I suppose. As for the second question, no, I didn't offer them anything, and yes, they took me by force."


"Are you actually a god like they claim?"


John scoffed. "If I am, I wouldn't waste my time in this room. I'd have blown the roof off of this place ages ago."


Judith pursed her lips. "That's not actually an answer."


John's dark eyes tilted up at her, and a delicate smile, cunning and dripping with smugness, crept onto his face. "Well, do I look like a god? Do I make you want to worship me? I won't complain if you do."


"That's also not an answer. Are you or are you not a god?"


The smile fell, and it was only when he sat back a little that Arthur realized John had leaned closer to the bars. "....As far as you are aware, I’m not."


"Okay, that's as much of an answer as I'll get. Where are you from?" Judith paced back and forth, her eyes never leaving his.


"Where is anyone really from, anyways?" John answered, scratching his nose. "For what it's worth, I have no home or an address, so if you're hoping to contact any family or friends of mine, that's not something to concern yourself with. I’ve done a lot of traveling, if that answers your question."


Judith’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t.”


Arthur chimed in. "Is it that you have no family, or... perhaps your issues with your memory mean you don't remember them very well?"


John's head snapped back to him, and Arthur expected his harsh gaze to cut into him. Instead, he was met with softer, gentler eyes and a contemplative, dour expression. "It... It doesn't matter either way. I have no one on my side."


"That's not true," Arthur said, grabbing one of the bars. "If you're honest with us, we can help advocate for you. We can help you."


Judith scoffed. "Why are you trying to sweet talk him?"


Arthur scoffed back. "What happened to 'innocent before being proven guilty'?"


"I thought we weren’t cops, Arthur."


"Is one of you going to let me out?" John said, his annoyance returning. "I don't really

like being in such a confined space."


"You don’t get to make demands right now, and we'll keep you here as long as we need to," Judith leaned on the bars.


"We work for the Paranormal Investigators of New Haven, meaning any paranormal or paranatural threats fall under our jurisdiction. Civil matters fall under the police's. The dilemma we face right now is figuring out which category you fall under. If you're just a regular kidnapped guy or some mundane criminal, then you're the police's problem. If you're anything else, then you're ours. So make it easier for both of us and tell me which one you are."


John was quiet for a while. His gaze fell to the floor as if contemplating what to say next. Then he smiled. "Who's to say, really? If I was some sort of existential anomaly, is there any way for any of us to prove for certain?"


"You just really hate giving us any straightforward information to work off of, don't you?" She groaned. "Do you have any powers or paranormal abilities? Anything that can mark you as a paranormal case?"


John chuckled again. "Maybe I do, maybe not. It's such a shame I won't tell you."


"Then answer this," Arthur interrupted, and John's gaze softened again as they made eye

contact. "What will you do if we let you out of this room? Will you hurt people?"


John's demeanor shifted once more, and he visibly shrank, his eyes growing wide. "My situation relies on doubt and on trust. There's really no possible way for you to tell whether I'm saying the truth at any given moment while I’m locked in this cell. Now, I could tell you that I'll go live in the forest and never interact with anybody for the rest of my life, or I could tell you that I’ll donate to charity, but the truth is that you don't know me, and there is no way to ever truly know me until you open this cell door. If I tell you I won’t hurt anyone, I could easily just change my mind the second I leave. You do not know me."


"Let us try," Arthur insisted in an almost pleading way, "If you genuinely need help, hell, even if you're lying to us right now, just trust us to help you get out of this room. Give us any information about yourself, something, anything we can work off of."


"I can't," John buried his face in his hands, his voice betraying what felt like genuine anguish.


"Can't?" Judith asked, "Or won't?"


John held his face in his hands and said nothing else.


Arthur took his chance to interrupt. “Then answer this at the very least. Do you want to leave this room?”


John looked up, his warm eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Right now, yes. More than anything.”


"That’s the most straightforward answer he’s said so far,” Judith scoffed. “Arthur, let's step out for a bit."


Arthur nodded and pushed himself off of the bars. "We'll come back."


—————-


"So," Judith put another cigarette to her lips. "We're both in agreement that there's something unnatural about that guy, right?"


The pair stood at the front of the room. The Old Man remained tied, but they had placed him against the far wall near the exit.


Arthur sighed. "I'm not sure. I mean, he didn't do anything, really. Can we really confirm our suspicions based on assumptions?"


"Him being shipped here in a coffin leads me to believe something is wrong with him. Besides, if he was just some normal guy, then he didn't help his case by not just telling us what his deal was. If someone asks you if you're a fucking god, you'd just say, 'No, I'm not a fucking god.' It's not rocket science."


"Should we leave this to the police?"


Judith scoffed. "It won't solve anything. It's just forcing the problem onto somebody less equipped to handle it. It should be us. In the best-case scenario, this guy is just a regular person, and we call the police. In the worst case, he is a paranormal threat, and we deal with him appropriately."


Arthur paused. "I can't help but feel like he's innocent. And knowing things is kind of my forte, isn't it?"


"True, I guess.Though a bit pompous of you to say.”


"But for some reason," Arthur continued, "It feels too easy. His emotions are too straightforward and too simplified when I'm around him. I couldn't dig up any useful information from him. He wasn't lying at all the entire time we were there."

"Well, he didn't say much of anything that could have been a lie," Judith corrected, "Most of it was him just talking about how he could theoretically be lying and a lot of fluffy nonsense that didn't actually answer our questions. For some reason, he doesn't want us to know what he's gonna do if he leaves, and that's reason enough to question his motives."


"But it wasn't like that," Arthur insisted, "All I could learn was that he wants to be free. That's all he wants, but... that can't be all he wants. I don't know if he knows what he wants to do afterward. Or maybe part of his strangeness means I can't read him like everyone else. Who's to say?"


"Gross, you sound just like him," Judith blew a mouthful of smoke. She waved her hand as she mimicked John's inflections. "'Who's to say?'


Her head smacked against the wall. "Ugh, this sucks. Of all our jobs, why is a guy locked in a room the most difficult to solve?"


Arthur tapped his chin in thought. "It just doesn't make sense. If he was innocent, why say all of this stuff that throws his word into question? And if he is a monster, why stay imprisoned? Why doesn't he just walk out? I know he wants out, but it's like he's doing whatever he can to avoid using us to escape. Even if he was just a bad person, even bad people know how to utilize pity to get what they want."


Judith's eyes lit up with intrigue as she tossed the cigarette. "Maybe it's because he can't leave."


Arthur looked at her in confusion as she sauntered over the Old Man in the chair. She leaned down to give him eye contact. "The chains you use to hold your God, are they infused with any... special materials?"


The Old Man's expression was confused. "N-no, they are ordinary chains. However, they hold great symbolic value. Our god-"


Judith waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. So they're ordinary chains, right? No magic minerals or power limiters of any sort?"


"Not at all. Those chains are nothing to him. He remains there because he wants to be here, with us, his worshippers."

Arthur perked up. "What are you talking about? He absolutely does not want to be here. He told us as much. Hell, getting information out of John is like getting blood from a stone, and that was the one thing we're both almost certain is true about him."


The Old Man's expression faltered. "He is... confused about his place in all of this, but we've done our best to guide him to his apotheosis, to show him the truth of his divinity. He will learn his place in due time."


"Okay, well, at least we know John wasn't lying," Judith clapped her hands. "John claimed he wants to leave, and if Manson here claims that John is reluctant to be part of the cult and all but acknowledges that he wants to leave, and you've deduced that he does genuinely want to leave this place, then that's three people confirming the same thing. We can just assume it's the truth for now."


She pulls a chair over and sits across from the Man, sitting on it backwards and leaning on the backrest. "Walk us through the process. How do you 'forge' a god?"


The Man scoffed. "Like I would tell you. How do I know you won't try to forge him into something else?"


Judith blinked. "We could do that if we wanted to?"


The Man frowned. "You forge a god through worship and by feeding him his power. We worship him every day, offering gifts, and he becomes what he is meant to be, but then, by morning, his strength diminishes. It is something that must be maintained through devotion and faith."


"Judith," Arthur said, "This guy believes everything he is saying to you. He’s clearly deluded. John said he wasn't a god. I know he wasn't lying to us."


Judith turned to look at him. "What if John is just saying that because he doesn't know what the cult's turning him into? You won't notice if he's lying if he thinks he's being honest with you. What if releasing him is part of the ‘forging’ process?"


The Man said nothing. His gaze hardened as he looked between the duo.


Judith continued. "Look, I don't agree with this guy. John being an actual god is pretty stupid and far-fetched, but I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't completely normal. That's my perspective; he's some fucked up dude keeping his real identity secret because he knows we'll rat him out. As soon as he leaves, he'll mess someone up. The only reason he's being so secretive is because he can't give straight answers without incriminating himself."


Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Okay. I'm going to go question John some more."


"I'll go with you." She stood up to follow, but Arthur held a hand out to stop her.


"I think he gets more anxious when you're around," He said. "I'll talk one on one. I think he's just more comfortable around me, to be honest. I know we're not police, but let's try a bit of Good Cop, Bad Cop and see if he says anything different when it's just me in the room."


—————-


When Arthur walked back into the room, he saw John huddled in the corner of his cell, his arms wrapped protectively around himself as he sat in the fetal position. He perked up as he saw Arthur, his brown eyes twinkling with relief.


"You're back!"


"Yeah," Arthur said, not sure how to feel. He walked over and kneeled to be at eye level with the prisoner. "Listen, I know this isn't easy, but since it's just the two of us, I want to know where we stand, okay?"


"What's there to know?" John said, looking at the floor. His tone was curious rather than indignant. " I'm chained in a room, and I want to leave."


"Where are you planning to go once this is all said and done?"


John sat in silence, carefully thinking over his following words. "I told you before. I don't know what I could say that you would accept. I don't think you would believe me anyway, no matter what I say."


"Even if it sounds ridiculous, I need to know. Even if you're lying, I need to know."


"I hate lying," John said bitterly, his thin hands tightening their grip on his knees. "And I’m not good at it. I want you to know I haven't lied to you guys, even if I can't prove it. This is just so... frustrating."


Arthur pinched his brow. This was going in circles. "If you leave, are you going to hurt someone?"


"I don't want to hurt anyone!" John snapped.


Arthur hummed in understanding, noting the noncommittal nature of the response.


"John, I need to know something important," Despite himself, he reached through the bars and, for the first time, gently touched John's shoulder. "When the Talons perform their daily rituals, do you become a god? Do you... transform into one?"


John froze. "Who told you about the rituals?"


"Please, just answer the question."


There was silence between them. John looked at the ground. "I'm not sure what you've been told but... I don't want to hurt anyone, I swear."


"I don't think so either, but I need you to answer me." Arthur reassuringly squeezed his hand on John's shoulder, although he couldn't quite explain which of the two of them the gesture was meant to comfort. Arthur wasn’t sure whether he believed John’s claims or not, but it hardly mattered. Arthur's thumb touched the cold iron of the chain around John's neck, rattling it.


John sighed. "I don't know why they want me to be a god so badly. I just want to get away from this place. I want nothing to do with them."


Arthur released him. "I'll advocate for you when I can, but you have to be transparent with us about your situation."


John groaned, an exasperated noise, as he began to yank at his hair. "I'm just as clueless as you are! I don't know why I'm still here! I don't know why this is happening to me!"


"Calm down," Arthur reassured, lowering his face to better see John's. "Look at me."


John wearily lifted his gaze, and the two made eye contact, John's bloodshot eyes brimming with unshed tears. He looked so very tired. Arthur leaned against the bars. "I want to help you, I really do. But I need you to tell me about what you've experienced while in Talon's custody. Even if you lie, I just want to know your perspective."


"They took me in my container," John started, "And brought me to this room and chained me up. They'd bring me strange gifts and say strange things to me. I don't know what else to tell you. I just want to leave this place, like any sane person would."


"If you aren’t a god, then what are you?"


Silence. Then, an annoyed huff. "What do I look like to you? Because I can assure you I'm exactly that and nothing else."


Arthur grimaced. He shouldn't ask this next question, but.... "What do you think of the Red Talon’s leader?”


John furrowed his brows. "I hate him. I just want to leave, and he doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t understand me at all."

“Well, neither do Judith or I,” Arthur added. “We don’t understand you either.”


John smiled. “Yes, but you seem kind. You aren’t trying to hurt me, even if I wish you’d just let me out. I can understand why you guys act the way you do, even if I don’t like it. You seem like a good person, Arthur.”


Arthur tried to ignore the reddening of his cheeks at the flattery. Judith would not have been happy to see him right now.

He sighed as he stood up. "I see. I'll be back soon. I just need to talk to my partner."


"I can't stand it here any longer," John said, standing up and gripping the bars, his eyes twinkling with a silent plea. "I just want to go, please. Please just let me out."


"I'll be right back," Arthur said as he headed for the door. "Don't worry, we won't leave you here. I promise."


—————-


"Alright, have we drawn any conclusions?" Arthur asked.


Judith lit another cigarette. "We've got three options. Free John and hope he doesn’t turn on us, leave him for the cops and hope he doesn’t turn on them, or..." she held up a finger. "Keep him locked up indefinitely until we can contact our boss."


"That last option is actually not a bad idea," Arthur said. "Any other options?"


"We could always just kill him."


"Judith!"


She coughed through a laugh. "What?! I was kidding! Although I wouldn't turn it down. He's a real piece of work."

"I don't think he's that bad," Arthur offered, "He's just frightened, and fear makes people act strangely."


"I think he's full of shit, and he's playing you like a fiddle," Judith retorted.


"I don't know," He shrugged. "He doesn't feel like a manipulator. Our ‘friend’ tied up in that chair feels like a manipulator. John just feels... inconsistent."


"Maybe he’s an inconsistent manipulator," Judith sat in one of the chairs. "I overheard your conversation with him. He's trying to play both sides. He plays hard to get with me because I don't take any of his shit and plays Mr. Clueless with you because he can tell you're a softie."


"Shouldn't it be the inverse, though?" Arthur thought aloud. "If I were locked up and someone who had the potential to free me was suspicious of me, I'd try to appeal to their better nature. Conversely, if I thought someone was softer or easy to push around, I might try and leverage my freedom."


"Maybe he's just an idiot, and we're idiots too because we've been letting him run marathon laps around us for the past two hours. Look, I'll shoot the agency a call to see what they recommend we do."


Judith walked around the corner of the left hall opposite the wall leading to John's room, pulling out her phone. A whistle caught Arthur's attention, and he looked at the Old Man.


“I'm happy to watch you two squirm as you try to decide, but it doesn't matter. No matter what you do, we win. You either release him into the world or leave him here, where he will meet his destiny alongside me."


Arthur flared up. "Don't you dare hurt John. You've caused enough trouble tonight."


"John,” He scoffed at the name. “Relax, I'm not going to hurt him. But his apotheosis will happen with or without you. One way or another, he'll leave that room."


"If he hasn't gotten out by now, I doubt he actually can," Arthur said. "Unfortunately for you, you’re tied to a chair and he’s chained to the wall, so any collaboration you think you’ll have will most certainly fall through. I don’t even think he likes you all that much, to be honest.”


The Man said nothing, which only agitated Arthur more. He paced as he continued. “I mean, if John’s supposedly so powerful, what'd be the point of him sitting in a room talking to two imbeciles trying to get them to decide whether they trust him or not? Why would he need us to let him out?"


The Old Man tilted his head back, letting out a long, exasperated sound. "It's like I said before! He will not leave until he is meant to! Until we decide for him to leave!"


Arthur sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Judith may humor you, but I've already discounted your opinions in all of this."


"Are you sure about that?" he retorted, "Or are you just saying that because you have no clue what you're doing and want to bully the Man tied up in a chair because needling me relieves some pent-up frustration? Oh, but I can tell. You want to know him."


"I-"

"It's tearing you up inside, isn't it? I may not know you, but I can tell that you're a man who's very used to trusting his judgment, and this situation is like a puzzle you can't solve. You want to know more about what he is, don't you?"


Arthur was silent for a beat. "Yes."


"It's frustrating, isn't it? The lure of forbidden knowledge?" The Old Man spoke with a tone of pity that Arthur may have fallen for if he could not see his true nature. “Just do the right thing, the thing you want to do, and let him out. Put all of your faith in him and trust that it’s what must be done.”


Arthur clenched his jaw as he thought, his verdant eyes flickering from the table to the Man to the hall Judith disappeared into. "I can’t do that."


The Man's smile dropped. "Pity."


Judith walked back in, her boots clicking loudly as she cussed under her breath after hanging up. "Okay, so everyone apparently has better stuff to do than deal with some guy in a room, but Socket did get back to me. She says that if we can't figure something out, we'll have some of the higher ranks come and collect him, probably put him somewhere where he can be observed more closely."


"Wait, so," Arthur said. "They intend to place him in a special containment unit? For how long?"


"How should I know?"


Arthur pursed his lips as he leaned on a chair. "Fantastic. So, we're just going to take him from one prison to another. That's cruelty, Judith. We don't even know if he actually has anything unnatural about him or if you and that maniac in the chair are in agreement about your weird hunches. I made a promise to help him get out of this place."


"And whose fault is that?" Judith cocked her head.


Arthur said nothing, so she continued. "You should have known better than to make promises to a stranger we're investigating. Look, I think there's definitely something up his sleeve, and you think he's an innocent cherub with puppy eyes, and nothing we've seen and heard has convinced us of the other person's perspective. Clearly, we're both not as equipped to handle this as we thought."


Arthur looked at his feet. Judith's scowl melted. She sighed. "Arthur, I'm sorry. I know you hate leaving things unfinished."


"No, I'm the one who should be sorry." Arthur looked to the side, avoiding her gaze. "You're right. I haven't been as professional about this as I should have. It's just there’s... something about John that I can't quite piece together, and it's kind of driving me up the wall."


"Welp," She shrugged, plopping her arms by her sides. "Should I make the call?"


"Talk to him," Arthur said. "Just ask any more questions to see if you change your mind."


"Arthur-"


"Talk to him just one more time. Just once. And if you still think he's suspicious after that, we make the call and I won’t complain for the rest of the night. I promise."


—————-


“I want to try talking to him alone,” Judith said as the pair stood outside the door. “Maybe he’s too comfortable around you. I want to see what I can get out of him.”


Arthur nodded his head. “Good cop, bad cop, I suppose.”


“You can listen by the door. I don’t mind you eavesdropping.” She smiled wolfishly. “I’m a little too used to you snooping anyway.”


Arthur nodded, leaning against the right wall of the cement hallway as she stepped inside.

John was standing to his full height on the other side of the cell, his chains clanking on the ground as he stared her down. Judith was a rather tall woman, but she still felt diminished in his presence, as if he was looking down on her despite what should be an obvious disparity in power in a situation like this.


She spoke first. “Alright, John. We got off to a rough start, but I’m here now. I’m going to ask a few more questions.”


John tilted his head, his eyes intense enough to send shivers up Judith’s spine. “Where’s Arthur?”


“He’s busy. It’s just me, so you gotta deal with it.”


A cold smile crept onto his face. “Well, ask away. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, right?”


“That’s what I’m afraid of,” She said. “Alright. So, let’s go over what we know for a fact. We know you were taken by the Talons and chained up here, we know you’re here against your will, and we know that the Talons are convinced you’re some type of god, or at least you have the potential to become a god, and are trying to turn you into one. My biggest question is... why?”


He looked at her coyly. “Why what?”


“Why do they want you so badly? Why are all of these different groups passing you around? What is so valuable about you that people would kill each other over it?”


“That’s... a lot of questions. Which do you want me to answer first?” He asked the question dumbly, like he didn’t understand what she was asking him, but the calculating glint in his eyes made clear that he was doing it on purpose.


“Just answer this. Why would they want you specifically?”


John’s smile fell, but he did not break eye contact with Judith for even a second. “Who's to say, really? You already know that Talon fool's reasons for wanting me around, so I don’t think I need to give you an answer for that. Of course, I don’t particularly mind being worshiped, but I’d hardly want to stay in this room all my life, so I’d much rather leave.”


Arthur, on the other side of the door, grimaced. That was not what he was told earlier. Yet, despite the disparity, he could tell that John was not lying. But he hadn’t been lying earlier, either. What was his deal?


Judith laughed mirthlessly. “You don’t mind being worshiped? Quite the ego on you, huh? But we both know that there’s something you’re not telling us.``


“Oh? And what’s that?”


“You have... powers, right? Abilities? Me, I’m tougher than normal, and my partner is a lot cleverer than most. So, do you have anything particularly interesting about yourself that you’d like to share?”


John opened his mouth to speak, but Judith interrupted. “And before you try and weasel your way out of it, just know that Arthur told me about how much you apparently hate lying, so whatever you say to me will get back to him. Do you want to embarrass him like that? Or, if you do lie, at least I know which of us is right. So, do you have any powers, yes or no?”


There was silence as John thought. He never broke their gaze. “I don’t feel comfortable answering that.”


“That’s answer enough,” Judith said, “and the answer is yes, you do have something unnatural about you. Because if you didn’t, you could just say so.”


“That’s hardly fair, is it?” John retorted. “Is the absence of a no really a yes? It seems that I can’t have any autonomy, and even less privacy. Quite shameful of you, really.”


“Are you trying to make me feel bad for you like you do with Arthur?” Judith rolled her eyes. “You’re a real piece of work, you know. We’re trying to figure you out, but it's so clear that you have ulterior motives. I don’t know what to do with you.”


“Funny. I wonder if that’s what your wife thought of you.”


Silence. Judith blinked. “What did you just say?”


“Sorry, my mistake,” John apologized, not sorry at all. “Ex-wife, I believe. Or perhaps a girlfriend. Didn’t she leave you for another woman?”


“How did you-?”


He held up a small brown wallet. Judith patted down her pockets and realized too late that her wallet had been missing. “You left this here. Quite embarrassing, you clearly miss her a lot. Vivian, was it? Her photos, and what appears to be...”


He pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. “A drunken love letter begging her to take you back? That’s funny... in a sad, pathetic sort of way.”


He chuckled. Then he began to read it aloud. “Vivvy, I’ve been loyal to you since the moment we decided to promise ourselves to each other, and I can’t believe you would hurt me like-”


He was interrupted by a swift kick to the cage. Judith looked down at him, enraged tears falling from her eyes. “God, you’re awful. What did we ever do to you?!”


At this point, realizing how disastrous this questioning had gotten, Arthur ran into the room. He slipped between Judith and the cage. “Hey, both of you stop whatever it is you’re doing! No more reading, and no more kicking!”


Arthur held out a hand. “John, give it back.”


John held the wallet close to his chest. “Why should I? Why should I not leverage the only thing I have, just like how you’ve leveraged my freedom?”


“Please.” Arthur looked at him with pleading eyes. John hesitated, then reluctantly held out the wallet between the bars of his cage.


She scoffed, swerving around Arthur to talk to John directly again as she snatched it from him. “You know, Arthur was the one to try and convince me to talk to you, and try and give you another chance. But you really can’t keep up the facade that you’re an innocent victim anymore, can you?”


“Shut up,” Arthur urged her. He looked back at John. “Why the hell did you say all of that? Judith’s personal life has nothing to do with this.”


“The two of you are so eager to play with my life,” John said coolly, “But when we reverse things and I try to psychoanalyze one of you, suddenly it’s solid evidence that I’m a monster who is not to be trusted. Everything you do is morally justified, while everything I do is only further evidence for or against me, even if it hardly has anything to do with our situation.”


“That’s... different,” Arthur weakly defended. How so, he could not answer right away.


“Of course it is,” John agreed, “The difference is that while you two are forced to find some way to deal with me, I don’t have to be especially kind to either of you. I want to leave, and you promised you would help me do so.”


“Well, that was before things escalated like this,” Arthur said, pulling Judith behind him. “We’re not going to let you out tonight. We are going to call our agency and have some of our higher ups look into this. For the time being, you’ll remain here.”


John’s face was cold. He smiled, but it was tense and joyless, more like he was incredulous at Arthur’s words. “You liar.”


“I’m sorry.” He truly was.


“I’m not,” Judith said. “Clearly we’re not equipped to handle this situation, so let’s just wipe our hands of this mess.”

“We‘ll stay until assistance arrives, if that comforts you,” Arthur reassured.


“It doesn’t.” John’s gaze darkened, as he gripped the bars. “You lied to me. You told me you’d let me free. I haven’t been kind to you, I’ll admit, but I’m not a liar.”


“I’m sorry,” Arthur repeated. He headed for the door, and Judith followed. “The choice has been made.”


Before they left the room, they heard John behind them growl a warning. “I’ll get out of this room soon enough, and when I do you will regret not helping me when you had the chance.”


Judith turned around. “You’re bluffing. If you could have gotten out of this room without our help, you’d have done it already.”


John, despite the frigid rage clear in his gaze, smiled. “ If you were so sure about that, you wouldn’t have been so hesitant to let me out all of this time. You have no clue what I’m capable of, do you?”


Judith had no answer.


John’s smile fell. “No, you don’t.”


Arthur pulled Judith out the door as he gave another apology. “I’m sorry.”


—————-


“I’m sorry about that,” Arthur said as they stepped back into the larger room.


“No, I shouldn’t have lost my cool,” Judith said, the stomping of her boots giving away her soured mood. “I think that neither of us are impartial enough to deal with this.”


“Judith.”


“Yes?”


“He wasn’t lying. When he said he’d get out of the room.” “What?”


“He meant it.”


“I don’t know,” Judith leaned against the opening to the hall. “ Just because someone believes they can do something doesn’t mean that they’re capable of actually doing it. Maybe he just really wants to leave the room, and you’re interpreting it as his version of the truth.”


“Something doesn’t feel right,” Arthur insisted.


A loud whistle interrupted the pair and reminded them that they weren’t alone. The Old Man grinned. “Well, looks like things didn’t go according to plan, huh?”

“We’re calling our higher ups to deal with whatever mess you’ve made,” Judith said bitterly. “You’re not our problem anymore.”


“I guess not,” he said, “But he still is.”


Before either could ask him to elaborate, a loud pound shot through the room, a sound like someone had taken a hammer to a sheet of metal. The sound came again, then again, and repeated and repeated like the banging of some hellish drum.


“What the hell is that?!” Judith shouted through covered ears. Arthur did the same as he ran to the source of the banging; the door to John’s room, trembling with the force of the sound.


Arthur’s blood ran cold. “It’s him.”


Judith trailed behind him. “But that’s impossible. He can’t get out of that cell. How the hell can he reach the door?!”


“I don’t know, but he’s done it somehow. I guess you were right when you said that he wasn’t normal. It just sucks that we’re learning it the hard way.”


Through the metal door, a piercing voice called. It was loud and almost painful to listen to, and Arthur could barely recognize the voice as John’s at all, and wondered how he could ever confuse it with whatever this was. “It’s too late for regrets. One way or another, I will get out of this room. So, you should make it easier for all of us and open the door.”


“Um, there’s no way in hell we’re doing that.” Judith pulled out her phone and began dialing.


Arthur grimaced, staring at the door as if he could see through it and look at John if he tried hard enough. “So, all this time, were you just pretending to be helpless? Were you lying?”


A sound like screeching came in response, and it took Arthur a few seconds to realize John was laughing. “Unlike you, Arthur, I’m not a liar. I’ve never been anything other than what I am. I wanted things to be pleasant between us, but you just wouldn’t let it happen. You let doubt creep into your mind, and it’s hurt me too much for me to forgive you.”


Arthur trembled. He looked back at Judith. She was frantically talking on the phone and he could only catch her end of the conversation. “What do you mean, ‘deal with it yourself’?! We don’t know what the hell we’re dealing with! He’s some kind of monster who's been screwing with us for the past few hours! We need your help!”


He breathed out. He stepped closer to the door. “You really mean it? You’ll get out, one way or another?”


John sighed, a sound like crackling static. “It’s inevitable, I promise.” Arthur stepped even closer. “What’ll happen if I let you out?”


“No. Question time is over. Now. Open. The. Door.”


Arthur reached for the doorknob. And then his hand retreated. “No. I can’t.”


Silence. The pounding stopped. Judith’s phone call had gone quiet as Socket hung up on her. The only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic beating of Arthur’s own heart, and the sound of what could have been claws dragging across the metal surface of the other side of the door.


“Actually,” John said, a tone of finality in his voice, “I don’t think your choice matters anymore.”


The door shattered like shards of glass of a broken mirror. Shrapnel collapsed to the floor, cascading down like grains of sand down a dune. Judith gripped Arthur’s shoulder as she yanked him away.


John stepped out, and the pair took several strides backwards. It looked like him, long hair, lanky frame and all, yet he was fundamentally different then either investigator had seen him prior to this moment. He looked less like himself and more like something strange, something otherworldly, something distinctly inhuman wore his body like a poor disguise. When he walked out of the now empty door frame, he walked wrong, looking less like someone taking natural steps and more like he simply willed his foot to be where he wanted it to be.


His face looked less like his own - too still and too calm for the rage that Arthur felt bubbling underneath - and more like a mask, the only part betraying the life within being, of course, the eyes, vivid and piercing and dark as the night, and never leaving Arthur’s own gaze. When he spoke, it was cold, and a bit playful, and his mouth did not move with the words. “Looks like I don’t need either of you to escape anymore.”


He reached his arms up to grab the walls, and Arthur had to tilt his head up to truly grasp how tall he’d gotten. He noted the shackles still connected to his wrists, and the long chains dragging behind him.


“He’s still chained up,” Arthur said, “he’s still connected to the wall. But how? The chains weren’t that long, were they?”


“Who cares? Run!” Judith grabbed his arm and yanked him along down the hall. John gave chase, his arms far too long and far too twisted, clawing at the cement walls and dragging him forward as he charged - no, glided - down the hallway after them, his long hair floating behind him like he was underwater.


The pair ran into the larger room. John did too - or rather, he tried, before he was suddenly stopped with a jolt, the chains on his wrists and neck pulled taught and keeping him barely restrained to the hallway.


Arthur’s breathing was ragged as he explained. “He’s still chained to the wall. He can’t get us yet.”


“Yet.” John echoed, a chuckle following as he strained against his shackles.


Judith groaned as she pulled as much distance between them as possible. “Socket says that since it’s now confirmed a paranormal case, we’ve got to find some kind of way to deal with him. This job, I tell you, we need a fucking union.”


Suddenly, the groan of iron caught both their attention. The chain of John’s left arm snapped under the tension, jingling as it clattered free. John shook his free hand in amusement. “Oh, would you look at that?”


Judith grimaced as she heard another groan of iron following. “Shit, what do we do?!”


Arthur scanned the room. The Old Man was gone. The seat he’d been tied to now sat empty, the only reminder that he’d been there was the loose rope that had been restraining him.


“Dammit,” Judith placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Fuck him, we’ve got bigger problems now.”


“All this bickering and stalling and whining,” John interrupted, another clatter signaling that he broke the chain of his right foot this time. “This is all your fault. This is only your fault.”


Arthur stepped forward. “This is why we hesitated, John. We wanted to give you a chance-”


John swung his loose hand. Judith shouted a warning. “Arthur, duck!”


It was too late. The large hand connected with Arthur’s temple, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.


—————-


Arthur was somewhere far away from the world. Within the truth of another person’s reality. He distantly recognized that it must have been John’s.... But why now? Was he finally being given the truth of what John was? What he really was?

His thoughts are interrupted by someone else’s.


A creature of perception and persuasion.


The creature sits alone in a dark, empty room, crying. It feels so empty.


Suddenly, bodies fill the space, dozens of staring eyes all focused and curious and persistent. The creature changes, little by little, the fabric of what it is changing to suit the perception of its watchers. Everything it is, was or ever will be is suddenly in flux. The empty cup has been filled to the point of spilling over.


It becomes many things. A monster, a victim, a suspect, a god, a fool, a damsel, a hero, a martyr, a slave. It is given many masks to wear, and yet none of them truly belong to it. It is a performer, standing before a hungry audience, and it must give a show.


When it is alone again, the creature feels empty. It is nothing without the eyes of others. Loneliness and boredom force it to plan. It must do what it does to survive. It must fold itself infinitely to fit into the hearts and minds of others.


Once, it finds a kindred soul, one who imagines it as soft and vulnerable and pleasant. The creature doesn’t mind being reduced to such an objectified state, to being shrunk down to fit into someone else’s heart, as long as it has the comfort of loving hands and loving eyes.


But soon enough, the truth of what the creature is becomes known. Love turns to fear. The creature’s visage changes once again, from soft and sweet and gentle to harsh and vile and ugly.


It sits alone again. Angrier. Lonelier. It can’t trust anyone with what it is.


It wants to be free.


—————-


Judith dragged Arthur to the corner as John snapped the chain connected to the shackle around his other foot. "I knew it. I knew there was something wrong with you. Arthur's too much of a softie. If I'd shown up too late, he would have let you out, and who knows what you would have done."


"Yes," John cooed, "Keep justifying my mistreatment to yourself."


"I don't need to. I know I'm right, and that's what matters."


John laughed, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Of course. You're a skeptical mind, Judith. You're smarter than you think, anyway."


Judith scoffed. "I feel pretty stupid letting things escalate this far."


"That was stupid of you," John agreed. "But it's too late for regret. I want to make you hurt for trapping me for so long."


"We weren't even the ones who trapped you!" Judith argued despite herself. "The Talons are the ones who brought you here!"


"And yet, the Talons aren't the ones in front of me at the moment," John's eyes, under the mask that was his face, intensified as they stared into her. "They are not the ones who filled me with rage, and they are not here to suffer the consequences of it. Not even Arthur is here right now. It's only you, Judith."


With a final clatter, the last chain broke. John dove at her. Judith narrowly swerved out of the way, knocking over a few chairs and falling to the ground, her baton scattering loose from sight. As he changed his trajectory to strike at her again, she hastily picked one up and swung it at his head. John staggered, nearly snarling as he reached up to touch his face.


She swung again. With a flash of sharp teeth, he snatched the chair midswing and stood to his full height, lifting Judith off of the ground with it. "I'll be sure to take my time tearing you to pieces."


He grabbed her side with a hand with fingers too long and crooked and squeezed. Judith screamed, letting go of the chair to wrap around his wrist in a rabid attempt to pull him away. His skin was tight, its weight like a limb of some kind of machine, unyielding and rigid, wrapped in leather. If he squeezed any more, she was sure her stomach would pop like a balloon-


"Your holiness. I’ve arrived to aid you."


John turned to look at the back of the room, and there was the Old Man. Judith was dropped, the height and force of it stunning her hip as she landed roughly.


The Old Man smiled and walked forward, his steps the only sound in the otherwise quiet room besides Judith's labored curses.


Once stony and emotionless in its mask-like appearance, John's face broke into a more thoughtful expression, though one equally as chilling. It was the look of a being that was aware of something Judith was not, and aware of something Judith could never hope to comprehend.


John held up a hand. "Stop."


The Old Man froze. Judith compulsively froze, too, the sudden conviction in John's tone

freezing the blood in her veins. John smiled. "Kneel."


The Old Man buckled to the ground in a way that Judith was sure must have been bad for his knees. John towered over them, his hair floating around his head like a dark halo, a strange undercurrent of divine power radiating past the horror. Judith scrambled, trying to stand up. This couldn't be real. Surely John wasn't actually a god?


At the exact moment that she had that thought, John snapped his head towards her. He smiled, his expression holding no true joy in it. "Tell me. What do you think I am?"


The power of his words gripped Judith's mind like a set of jaws, squeezing her brain until she was forced to answer. "You're a monster."


John's expression did not change. "Perhaps. But it doesn't really matter what I am, does it? Monster or not, I rule your mind."


The Old Man gazed at John, a look of adoration and awe in his cataract-ridden eyes. "You're perfect. Soon, you will rise to even greater heights than this. You will remake the world into something new. Something better."


"Perhaps." John tapped his chin thoughtfully. "But to do that, I must leave this prison. Although... I don't want to. At least, not quite yet. I still want to make you pay for trapping me here."


John's eyes remained laser-focused on Judith, and she couldn't even pull her gaze away. He looked at the Old Man and pointed to the long-forgotten blade on the ground. "Old Fool, take that blade and cut your own throat."

The Old Man gulped. “But.... but your holiness... I-"


"Did I stutter?" John said, a hint of annoyance present in the otherwise calm response.

"Prove your devotion to my apotheosis. Slit. Your. Throat."


The Old Man grabbed the knife. The movement was forced and janky. The Man's hands trembled as he slowly, inch by inch, began to lift the blade closer to his neck, his cheeks turning bright red with the effort to resist.


"If your devotion is absolute," John asked, "Then why do you resist your god?" "I-I didn't know you would ask this of me, I-" The Old Man began to plead, tears


streaking his cheeks. "Please... I don't want to die. Please, don't kill me."


"I'm not killing you." John's smile fell. "You're doing it all on your own."


The knife plunged. The Old Man's mouth opened in a silent scream, blood spilling from his mouth as he dragged the blade from left to right, the sounds of slicing gore and metal scraping against bone as he cut his neck open.


"Stop!"


As if a spell was broken, John's head snapped to the side, breaking his connection. The Old Man's hands dropped down, and he collapsed, steaming blood pooling beneath him. Judith dragged her eyes away from the gory display, terrified into silence as she looked in the same direction.


Arthur stood in the corner, swaying as he struggled to keep his balance, trying his best to ignore the Old Man's body and steeled his resolve. "'A creature of perception and persuasion.' That's what you are, isn't it?"


John stared down at him, and a soft light twinkled in his eyes while his expression remained cold. A look of acknowledgement. "What do you think?"


Arthur swallowed, unsure of himself. "I-I think that you only become what others perceive you to be. I think everybody in this room has been incorrect about what you are at some point tonight. And I don't think you're a monster."


"Are you serious?!" Judith said incredulously. "Fucking look at him!"


John didn't bother giving her a backward glance. "What makes you so sure?"


"I had a hunch. You don't actually have any secret ulterior motives, do you? Your earlier nonsense was just smoke and mirrors. You just want to leave, plain and simple."


John said nothing. Arthur continued. "Other people get ideas about who or what you are, assumptions based on their first impression of you, and you have no choice but to play the role of whoever they perceive you to be. You become what others think you are."


"Stop," John said, his tone sharp but lacking in the intensity from when he was chasing them down, or when he was ordering the Old Man to kill himself. "Do you think you can humanize me, make me small and manageable, so I fight back less when you call for backup?"


"It must be hard to never be in control of what you are. To never have the full range of free will. You were afraid, weren't you? Afraid of our doubts and opinions turning you into something you couldn’t control? That we’d use it against you?"


Again, John did not answer. Arthur adjusted his glasses. "All of the secrecy is because you want to control how you change, right? Offer us enough answers to come to certain conclusions, but also give yourself enough mystery to give leeway to your actions. You don't want to make our perception of you so rigid that you can't act in your own interest. Am I right?"


"So what if you are?" John asked, his tone bitter. For the first time in a while, he looked as tired as Arthur assumed he felt. "What does that mean for us? For me?"


"I still want to keep my promise," Arthur said, finality in his tone. "I want to get you out of here. I want to help you."

Arthur held out a hand.


John stared down at it, a moment of sincerity passing between the two men. John still looked terrifying - he stood far taller than he should have, a divine, haunting energy orbiting around him. Despite this, Arthur tried his best to focus on the part of John that he could understand and sympathize with, and he knew that this crumb of humanization would be enough. Judith saw John as a monster, the Old Man saw John as a god and whoever hurt John in the past saw him as a helpless doll. If Arthur could just see John as a human, as a person, it would be enough.


The Old Man on the ground at that moment let out a final, shuddering breath. Judith stared down at him. "I think he's dead."


At that exact moment, John changed so imperceptibly that Arthur almost couldn't believe he hadn't always been that way. He stood less tall, less imposing, less divine, his stature accommodating Arthur's humbling perspective, but Judith's tinge of distrust and fear still kept him from shrinking entirely back to the more harmless form he'd held earlier that day.

John took his hand. Despite the earlier terror still permeating the room, the moment is gentle.


His eyes gazed down softly at Arthur, and despite the apparent difference in power, he shrunk away as he spoke. "There's no way for you to know who I really am. For all we know, I'm only acting the way I am right because it's what you think I should act like. Am I really some poor victim of circumstance, or do you only perceive me that way because of your own guilt coloring your perspective of me?"


Arthur paused as John leaned in, eager for an answer. "Honestly, I don't know, okay? But that's not something I can ever know for sure, is it? Or if it is, it's something we can figure out with time. Together."


John smiled. "I suppose that's as good an answer as any."


"This is insane," Judith spoke up, and the other two turned to look at her. "Arthur, help me up."


Arthur let go of John’s hand and walked around him. Letting Judith lean on his arm, they both stood to full height. Judith scowled, eyeing John suspiciously. She looked back at Arthur. "Was all that shit you were saying true?"


He nodded. "Yes. I'm sure of it."


“So, all this time, all that suspicious shit he was doing was because I was suspicious of him first?” Judith sighed. “That’s annoying. So we basically wasted a bunch of time investigating this shit for nothing.”


“Well,” Arthur said coyly, “I wanted to free him from the beginning, just an FYI.”


“If we had, then we would have just let him run rampant without any context,” Judith corrected, her gaze narrowing, “Which means it would have been a disaster regardless. Although, one with maybe less of a body count.”


She looked down at the Old Man’s corpse.


Arthur smiled. “Agree to disagree. I know this isn’t easy, but let's just trust him, Judith. He’s only as trustworthy as we perceive him to be.”


"I won't," Judith said. She sighed. "But I do want to trust you. So, as hard as this is to wrap my head around, I'll believe you."


Arthur smiled. "Thank you."


Judith frowned even deeper. "Don't push it. If he turns out to betray us because you were wrong about your hunch, I'm holding you accountable."


She looked back to John. She scowled. "Are you going to hurt people if we leave this building?"


John smirked. "Do you think I'm going to hurt people?"


Judith stuttered. Arthur sighed. "No. He won't. As long as we decide that he doesn't."


John tilted his head coyly. "There’s no way to know for sure, really. I guess you're just going to have to take a leap of faith."


Judith frowned. She hated this.


—————-


The police were informed of the corpse on the premises and generally filled in on the entire debacle. Arthur knew it would be a headache unpacking all this nonsense, and the paperwork was going to be hell to get through, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Perhaps it would be best to hold John in some motel nearby until they can bring him back to the office and find a suitable way to manage him. For now, the issue was getting outside.


With Judith leaning on his shoulder, the pair walked down the hall to the back door. John quietly followed, the Eurydice to their Orpheus, both hesitant to look behind and force too much of an idea onto his entirety.


Judith exhaled through her nose. "I can't believe we're doing this. I hate feeling his eyes on me."


Arthur sighed. "Remember, he's just an ordinary man."


Judith groaned. "Right, right, I know."


Finally, the three stepped outside. The evening sky was dark and all-encompassing, only contrasted by the red and blue police lights flashing. As soon as they'd walked out, a few officers stumbled into the building past them. Arthur grumbled a bit at being ignored, but considering who he was with, the less attention, the better.

John smiled at the cool breeze of the night. “I missed the fresh air.”


An older officer approached. He gave them the same tired, vaguely disappointed glare that cops usually gave Pin employees. "So, this is the former hostage, correct?"


Judith pulled out a cigarette. "Yes. He's coming with us since his... current state falls under our jurisdiction. You and your boys can handle the corpse."


"Uh huh," The officer looked at John, and Arthur knew that the other man could see so much in those wondrous, terrifying eyes. John was as unreadable as ever, subtly shifting to suit whatever idea this officer had of him in his mind. Arthur knew that the second any words were exchanged between them, John would transform into something else, and the officer would have no idea that he was anything different.


The officer nodded as if he'd seen enough of what he wanted. John technically fell under the Pin's jurisdiction, which made him exempt from police questioning. "Alright, I'll let you be on your way."


As far as this officer, and every other officer on the property knew, John was just a mundane guy, albeit one who had been in an awful situation and was probably tired and traumatized. To them, nothing had indicated he was anything other than that, and it was certainly for the best.


The trio walked past the police cars and back to Judith's van. Judith looked back at John, who trailed behind silently. "Funny, I'd have thought you would run off by now. It's not like either of us could stop you."


John smiled, a coy expression reflecting Judith's own distrust. "And where would I run off to? If you can't think of any place I would rather be than here, neither can I."


"Fair enough." Judith sighed, blowing out her cigarette smoke away from Arthur's face. "Arthur, you're driving, right? I would, but my sprained hip isn't helping."


"I guess I am."


After helping Judith into the passenger seat and ordering John into the back, which he did with little fuss, Arthur drove his partner and their strange new acquaintance into the night. Arthur looked back through the rearview mirror, and caught a glimpse of John smiling as he watched buildings and trees pass.