[Incident Report—Siesta Solace Hotel, Entity Encounter.]
[Location: Siesta Solace Hotel, Fourth Floor, Siesta City]
[Agent Involved: Howard Leyman, Operative]
[Status: Compromised, Non-Physical Entity Interaction.]
——
Howard's pulse thundered in his ears as he tore down the hotel stairwell, his bare feet slamming against the cold concrete steps.
The blood beads he'd scattered—each a microscopic extension of his senses—screamed with urgency, their tingling pulse converging on the fourth floor.
It's here. The killer. I'm not letting it slip away.
His mind churned with dread and resolve, the memory of Ch'en and Hoshiguma's warmth fading beneath the weight of the hunt.
He reached the fourth-floor door, yanking it open with a metallic groan.
The hallway stretched before him, its opulent carpet and gilded fixtures bathed in sterile fluorescent light.
The beads' signal intensified, a prickling under his skin, guiding him forward. It's close.
His instincts, honed by years of tracking anomalies, flared to life.
Then, one by one, the hallway lights flickered and died, plunging the corridor into shadow until a single bulb remained, flickering weakly at the far end.
The air grew heavy, thick with an unnatural chill that clawed at his exposed skin.
Howard froze, his crimson eyes narrowing.
A figure emerged beneath the lone light, its form coalescing from the darkness.
It wore a long black coat, pristine white shirt, and a thin black tie—an outfit suited for an instrumentalist, elegant yet jarring in the desolate hall.
Its face was obscured, a void where features should have been, as if light itself refused to touch it.
What the hell is that?
Howard's mind raced, his hand twitching as they began to transform into claws.
Then he saw it—the thing's left hand, dragging a corpse.
The body was a woman, her lower face torn away in a grotesque mockery of humanity.
Her spine jutted from the ruin of her jaw, her tongue dangling like a grotesque pendulum, swaying with each step the entity took.
Howard's stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat.
His eyes locked on the corpse's chest, where a fist-sized hole gaped, the heart missing—identical to the wound on the Ursus merchant. It's the same.
This thing's the killer.
His theory snapped into place, but the horror of it threatened to swallow him whole.
He reached inward, channeling his Liberi ability, the blood in his veins humming as he prepared to reshape his body for combat.
But before he could act, the entity raised its hand, fingers splaying with an unnatural grace.
The air cracked, a jagged fracture splitting reality itself.
The hallway warped—up became down, left twisted into right, and the walls bent like molten glass.
Howard's feet left the ground, an invisible force seizing him, hoisting him into the air like a puppet on frayed strings.
His arm jerked violently, as if an unseen hand sought to tear it from its socket.
He screamed, the sound raw and desperate, thrashing against the force. Move, damn it!
He pushed his ability harder, willing his body to shift, to harden, to break free.
But the entity's laugh cut through the air—a guttural, demonic rasp that burrowed into his mind, dripping with malice.
"Howard," it said, its voice a jagged blade of sound, each syllable laced with an intent to unravel.
Y̶̰̖͙͐̽̎͒͆̈́̈̾͊͊̉ō̴̘͈̳͕̩͈̪̠ṷ̷̢͉͈̘̯̻̠̝͉̹̳͌ͅ ̴̜̹͎̙̘͚̭̣̱̬͉̜̆̾̑̃͘̚ͅt̶̘͚͉̜̠̱̙̳͖͒̿h̵̰̘̤͔͕̳͈͇͕̫̹̣̹͎̃̿̊̈̋̇͐͘̕ơ̵̧̞͉͚̱̘̙̘̤͖̩͗̊̑̆͂̇̀͗͌̌̕͝͝ù̴̧̫̤̞͉̩̫͖̪̥̜̖͇͐͗̾͑́̔̍̆̈́͝ģ̷̢̧̧̨̣̰̥̖̙͙̱̹̟̋͗̆̀̓̏̒̚h̸̛̝̯̳̤̓̓̃͘͝t̸̛̙͕͙͈̪͈͖̟͖̃̎̌̇̈́̂̅̑̈́͆̿͜͠ͅ ̴͎͉͔͓̞̘͉̻́͑͒̋ỵ̴̨̛̮͖̱̪͇̻̖̎̓̈̐̂͛̄̉̆͠͠ȯ̴̬̩̠̬͆̇̿u̸̢̬̺͚̹̦̜̠̰̟͒͊̓̀ ̷̢̛̛̰̗̠̮̺̈́̈́́̽̇̂̆̍̍̈́̉̇̚ç̵̜͔͓̀̉̉̔͊̊̐̄͒̍͘͠o̴̝͈͊̆̈͐͌͒́̕u̷̻̐l̷̨̤͔̱̮͉̱̜͔̆̒̃́́͝d̵̢̡̖̜̲̺̬̔́̌͜ ̸̨̥̺̻̪͕̟͙̙̱̬͕̹̒h̶̫́̒̒̆̃ȗ̷̟̬̹͉̮̞̆̓͠͝n̴̢̤͛̒͌̒̆̒̇̃ṯ̸̡̢̣̫̱͔̭͍̘͎͛͋̐̀͐͆̏̔̌̅̋ͅ ̷͔̥̺͌̈̂̒͋
How does it know my name?
Howard's expression was one of confusion.
The entity snapped its fingers, and Howard's world exploded in pain.
His head burst, a sickening pop as brain matter and blood sprayed across the warped hallway, splattering the walls in a grotesque arc.
His vision flickered, but his Liberi resilience kicked in, his body already knitting itself back together.
I can regenerate. I'm fine.
But then he felt it—a wrenching, unnatural pull. His soul, or whatever tethered his consciousness to his form, was torn free, floating outside his body.
He hovered, a disembodied spectator, staring at his own regenerating corpse, now impaled on a twisted metal rod that had erupted from the floor, pinning him to the ceiling like a grotesque trophy.
No. No, no, no.
Panic clawed at him as he tried to force his essence back into his body, but an invisible barrier repelled him, cold and unyielding.
What the hell is this thing?
His gaze darted to the entity, still dragging the mutilated corpse, its movements unhurried, deliberate.
The woman's ruined face seemed to stare back at him, her empty eyes confirming his theory: this was no human killer.
This was an anomaly, a predator that fed on Siesta's underbelly, cloaked in its glittering façade.
The entity paused, tilting its featureless head as if sensing his disembodied presence.
"You see now," it hissed, its voice echoing inside his mind.
Ş̶̨̛̭͔̥̤̞̙̦̘̫̭̭̭̱̇͋͆̔̉̄̿͌͊͊̍̍͘o̷̢̡̬̹̠̲̰̮̠͛̀͐͑̇̑̒̐̍̿͠o̷̭̟̦̖̗͈͓̻̙͗͗͗̍̆̾̇̀͝ͅn̸̨̙̰͔̼͈͉̞̼͔̩͌̿̀͒̀̈́̏̿̅͊̾́̃̑͜͝,̵̨̭͖̰͎̫͕̗̺̭͈̯͐̈ͅ ̸̡̢̠̥͖͇̘̰̖͓̑͆́̇͛̏̓̋͒͂͂͠Į̶̱̪̖̻̯͙̆͐́͋ ̴̹͌̋̈̅̎̾̀̐͐̒̓̕͝͠w̴̡̡̢̧̪͔͎͎̤̼̻̆̊̊͆̇͗͑̒̿͑̕ͅi̶̡̟̼̣̪͂̊̊̅́́͊̽̓̆͜l̸͖̠̮̰͉̝͎͌̕̚l̴͈̘̤͈̙͕̘̫͎̹͎̪̫̈́̇̉̄̽͜͜͝ ̵̬̇̈́̅̐͐̈́͑̽̿̎̂̓͌͒͗ț̴͎̫͔͔̯̼͉́̐͑̌̆́̂̽̕á̶̢̞̰̙̤͈̗͚͍̰̫͙͈̈́͋̈́̏ͅk̵̡̠̟̟͓͛̆̒̾̑͌͜͜e̶̙͖̩̘̝͍͕̖̖͎̯̐͑̎̉̈̎͒͗̓̋̌̆͜͜͝͝͝ͅ ̵̢̢̛͚̝̯̹̤̘̥͔̼̙̱͗̅͐̉̈̓͝w̴̡̺̮͙̺̣̬͌̃͊̀̋͜h̶̢͈͍̬̤͖̘͍̦̫̱̀̇͌̈́͊́͗̄͂͠ͅą̴͇̻̬̬̏̍̏͊̐̎̓́̀̃̑̚͠t̷̼̟̫̗̟̥̯͔̦̹͍͕̞͛̌͘ ̶̹͉̖͖̯̄̀͐͛̈́̐̎ỳ̸̤̠̯̦̠͍̟̪͙̽̃̏͐̓̾̊͝ȍ̸̢̧̜̻̝̱̞͔͔͕̞̳̱̰̃̒͒̆̒̽̃͒̈́͒̈́͘͝u̴̪̻̮̖͙͚̘͍̹̙̣͍̜̍̏͠ ̴̻̟͎͇̻͇͇̺̤͙̯͈̩̆̃͜v̸̻̳̠̄͊̓͑̿͛͛̊͋͗͑͜͠͝à̵̢̨̯̹̳͍̗̪̤̥͉͚̈́̆̎̈́̒̎͋̍͜ͅļ̵̨̛̯͇̔̆̅̍̈́͘̚͝͠ͅǘ̵̗͉̎͐͠͝͠͝͠e̵̢̮̩̞̖̠̳̹̗̾͋͠͝ ̴̧̛̟̭̗̭̬̲̌t̵̡̨͎̪̝̳̮̫̪͇̪̩͉̀̀̊̌͒h̷̛͍̤̓́̓́͗̆̏̓́͠ḙ̵̡̠̩̣͈͍̺̹̻̠͐́̏̽̕͜͠ ̸͖̱̱̀͑̓̌̔̽̿͑͌͠m̴͙̞͐ǫ̷͍̩̘͈̞̥̘̮̆̔̓̈́̐̉͒̊͗̀̔̿̕ŝ̴̻̯͙͚̲͆͑̋͘͜͠͝ţ̵͖̪̓̾͐̿͗̀͊͛͠.̷̝̺̹̗̭́̽͂́̐̕"̵̜̮̣̻̬̘̘̙̔̌̎͋̀̈́̐̓̈̄͒͜͝ ̸̡̨̭̘͙͉̟͍͍͍̥͈̜͒͊̀͋̽̎̓̂̊̽̕̚͠͠͠
It resumed its slow march, the corpse scraping against the carpet, leaving a trail of blood and bone.
Reality snapped back, the hallway righting itself with a nauseating lurch.
The lights flickered on, one by one, revealing the pristine corridor once more—except for Howard, still staked to the ceiling, his body regenerating but his soul adrift. I'm trapped.
His mind raced, grasping for a plan. The beads.
They're still active. He focused, feeling the faint pulse of his blood beads scattered throughout the hotel, but he felt nothing, his control fading.
But the entity's laughter lingered, a promise of worse to come.
Howard's disembodied gaze followed it, the corpse dragging behind, as he clung to the faint hope that his blood would lead him to answers—or to survival.
Time was running out, and Siesta's shadows had never felt so alive.
———
[Addendum: Operative Howard's status remains critical.]
[Entity designated ████-Siesta is under preliminary classification as an outer-level threat.]
[Operative Howard's anomalous physiology may allow recovery, but soul displacement presents unknown variables. Further reports to follow.]
***
The first rays of dawn crept through the curtains of Howard's suite, casting pale streaks across the tangled sheets where Ch'en and Hoshiguma lay.
The air was heavy with the lingering warmth of the night, but a chill settled over them as Ch'en stirred, her hand reaching instinctively for Howard.
Her fingers found only empty space. She sat up, her white t-shirt clinging to her skin, her heart lurching.
Where is he? Her eyes darted around the room—his shoes were gone, his key missing from the desk.
A gnawing unease coiled in her chest.
"Hoshiguma," she said sharply, nudging the oni beside her.
"He's not here."
Hoshiguma groaned, her turtleneck rumpled as she propped herself up, rubbing her eyes.
"What? Howard?" She scanned the room, her usual confidence faltering.
"He wouldn't just leave. Not after… He's probably after the killer." Her voice trailed off, the memory of their shared intensity flashing in her mind.
Where the hell did he go?
Before they could process further, a sharp knock rattled the door. Ch'en was on her feet in an instant, her sword within reach, her instincts screaming danger.
Hoshiguma followed, hefting her shield as they exchanged a glance—wordless, but heavy with shared dread.
Ch'en opened the door to find a Siestan police officer, his face pale, halo flickering nervously.
Behind him, the hallway buzzed with activity: officers cordoning off the stairwell, hotel staff whispering in hushed panic.
"Are you guys officers Ch'en and Hoshiguma?" The policeman said, his voice strained.
After exchanging glances, they both set their weapons aside.
"There's been another incident. Two victims this time. The entire fourth floor's sealed off."
Ch'en's blood ran cold. "Two victims?" Her voice was steady, but her mind raced.
Howard was hunting the killer. Did he… She couldn't finish the thought.
The officer swallowed hard, his eyes darting away.
"One's a woman, face… mutilated. The other…" He hesitated, as if the words burned.
"It's your colleague. Howard. We found him impaled on the ceiling, a metal rod through his chest. His body's been taken down, but it's… it's bad."
The world tilted. Ch'en's knees buckled, her sword slipping from her grasp to clatter against the floor.
No. Not him.
Her mind replayed the night—his crimson eyes, wide with panic and desire, his warmth under her touch, the way he'd fought to keep up with them.
Her chest tightened, a sob clawing at her throat, but she forced it down, her fists clenching until her knuckles whitened.
Damn it! Why did I let him leave alone?
Hoshiguma staggered back, her shield dropping with a dull thud. Her face, usually a mask of strength, crumpled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He's gone? The thought was a knife, twisting deep.
He was right here. How could we lose him? Her growl was gone, replaced by a trembling whisper.
"He… he can't be dead. He's Howard. He's tougher than that."
But the officer's words echoed—impaled, ceiling, mutilated.
Her hands shook, rage and grief colliding. I should've been there. I should've had his back.
They stood on the edge of collapse, the weight of their failure crushing them.
Ch'en's vision blurred, her breath hitching as she fought to hold herself together. Hoshiguma's massive frame seemed to shrink, her shoulders hunching as if the guilt could physically break her.
The officer shifted uncomfortably, muttering something about procedure, but his words were static against their shared devastation.
Howard's presence should have been.
As the officer left, a low, familiar voice cut through the haze—impossibly alive. "Ch'en, Hoshiguma."
Their heads snapped up, tears blurring their vision.
From the shadowed corner of the hallway, a crow materialized, its feathers an unnatural, glistening black, three crimson eyes gleaming with eerie intelligence. It perched on a railing, its gaze locked on them, unyielding.
Ch'en's breath caught, her voice a trembling whisper.
"Howard?"
Hoshiguma wiped her eyes, her voice cracking with disbelief.
"What the hell? Howard, is that you? A damn bird?"
The crow tilted its head, its voice unmistakably Howard's, though tinged with a strange, otherworldly echo.
"It's me. Don't break down yet."
Ch'en's tears flowed freely, relief and confusion warring within her.
He's alive. But how?
Her voice shook as she stepped forward, her eyes locked on the crow's unnatural gaze.
"Howard, what's going on? How is this possible? They said you were dead—impaled!"
Hoshiguma's fists clenched, her tears still falling.
"Yeah, you better start talking, bird or not! What the hell happened to you?"
He's alive, but this… this isn't right, she thought, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and fear.
The crow's three eyes glinted, Howard's determination shining through despite the alien form.
"I'll explain everything later—I promise. Right now, I need you to retrieve my body. By any means necessary. Get it before they move it."
Ch'en's grief hardened into resolve, her tears drying as she gripped her sword.
"Your body? Howard, I am not sure what you are saying, and who did this to you?"
Hoshiguma nodded, her voice steadying despite the tears streaking her face.
"Yeah, give us something, Howard. You're a damn crow, and we're supposed to just trust this?"
Howard twisted a bit with a sigh.
"I know it is hard to understand, and I will explain everything, but we need to get my body quickly."
Ch'en and Hoshiguma exchanged a glance, their shared pain forging a new resolve. Ch'en wiped her eyes, her voice firm.
"We're getting your body, Howard. Then you're explaining everything."
Hoshiguma hefted her shield, her tears replaced by a fierce glint. "You're not slipping away from us, bird or not. Let's move."
The crow—Howard—took flight, its three eyes blazing.
"Take my phone as well; there is someone I need you to call later."